A Mormon Fundamentalist Review: Under the Banner of Heaven Ep. 1 & 2

 

In 2003, I belonged to a United Order - a type of hippie commune, except that there were no hippies, there were Mormon polygamists.  And I was one of the Mormon polygamists who lived there, having two wives at the time.  (I only have one at the moment.)  

Life was not idyllic in the "Order", the commune.  We didn't sing songs around campfires with flowers in our hair.  We lived in trailers on a windy, dusty stretch of Arizona desert - no neighbors, miles from any town, completely isolated.  We tried to coax vegetables out of inhospitable soil and worked meager jobs, turning over our paychecks at the end of the week to the Order to be re-distributed to those in need.  The Order rules forbade us from having a TV, but that was okay,  We didn't have any electricity to begin with and hauled our own water.  Our children would crowd around the TV at the coin laundry where we washed our clothes every week, huddling around the glimmer of the screen, transfixed and mesmerized.

So, why did we live in this spartan lifestyle?  We were trying to build the Kingdom of God.

Without a TV, I would unwind at nights with a book in my hand, crouching under the dim light of a candle until my eyes hurt.  I would read everything I could get my hands on, and not just religious texts, but history books, sci-fi and fantasy, thrillers, anything.  At our weekly trip to the public library, I would load up with as many books as I was allowed to check out.  By 2003, Jon Krakauer was already one of my favorite authors.  I had previously devoured Into the Wild and Into Thin Air and thoroughly enjoyed them.  So, when I saw that he was publishing Under the Banner of Heaven, an exploration of Mormon fundamentalism, specifically the gruesome murder of Brenda Lafferty in 1984, along with her infant daughter.  I knew that I had to read this book.

As expected, Krakauer's writing style sucked me right in, and I finished the book in a couple of days.  It was completely captivating.  But it left me with a sense of malaise.  I had heard of the Lafferty murders for most of my life - a heinous act committed against a woman and her child.  But I was completely detached from this.  It was just something I had heard mentioned in hushed circles, but always with the sense that this was them.  Not us.  I always felt far removed from this tragic event.  Krakauer brought it forefront.  Krakauer made it real for me.  His sensory depiction as he turned the words of the killer into a horrifying study of violence - it left me sick inside.  Along with his account of the murder, he wove in a narrative of Latter-Day Saint history, specifically points of violence from our past.  By the time I reached the conclusion, I was livid.

Over the years, I have had to qualify my opinion of Banner to others.  "I really like it, but I disagree with his conclusions."

Krakauer concluded that the Mormon faith has had the seeds of violence planted within it since its inception.  That Mormonism is inherently violent.

Looking back, I don't know why this upset me so much.  I mean, I wasn't violent.  Even though I lived off-grid on a Mormon compound, I was happy.  I loved my family and wanted them to be happy, too.  How could my religion inspire, as a character in the first episode expresses, "dangerous men"?  Mormon fundamentalists aren't dangerous!  Aren't they?

Skip forward almost twenty years to 2021, and I am no longer a polygamist, the United Order dissolved, and I have a TV.  (I still live on the same dry patch of desert, though.)   While visiting a polygamous community in Missouri, I got a phone call from my dear friend, Lindsay Hansen Park, director of Sunstone Foundation and the host of Year of Polygamy.  She informed me that she had been brought in by a production team as a consultant for a TV miniseries adaptation for Under the Banner of Heaven for FX and Hulu.  She told me that Andrew Garfield was attached to the project, and she was being brought on to use her wealth of knowledge of Mormon culture to help lend authenticity to the program.  The show creator, Dustin Lance Black, the Academy Award-winning writer of Milk and one of the writers of  Big Love, came from an LDS background but needed someone who understood the minutiae of the weird world of Mormon fundamentalism.  That's where Lindsay came in.

Where I came in, Lindsay fielded some questions to me about Mormon fundamentalism - priesthood ordinances, customs, and history.  It's a bizarre culture I'm in, and I've been a part of it for almost 35 years.  There were other fundamentalists that worked with Lindsay in the same fashion, but I was just thrilled to be a part of this project, even as far-removed from it as I was.  Plus, it gave me huge cred with some of my teenage kids to be working on something involving Andrew Garfield.

It is probably relevant to add that not everyone in the fundamentalist community was thrilled with my ephemeral connection to the project.  I caught some flak for it.  Probably for the same reasons I myself might have hesitated in the past to get involved - Banner comes across as "anti" literature (although that view is shortsighted, as I will soon express.)  The way I justified my involvement to other fundies - hatchet job or not, I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure they get it right.

I was delighted when Lindsay invited me to the premiere two days ago in Salt Lake City.  Getting to the premiere was an adventure in itself that perhaps deserves its own post.  Needless to say, I was able to travel to the premiere with my wife Martha and two of my kids, including my 18-year-old daughter who was hoping to catch a glimpse of Garfield.  (Little does he know that she has staked a claim on him, along with possibly dozens of people of all sexes in the theater.)  I will add that Garfield is intelligent, funny, and affable.  Anyone who casually quotes Rainer Maria Rilke, one of my favorite poets, is okay by me.

The screening started, and the first thing that choked me up was the blood - Brenda Lafferty's blood on the floor.  I had such a visceral reaction that I could almost smell it.  Just like Krakauer's book, it made it real.  Brenda Lafferty was a real person.  And she really died.  She died, because some men had some really fucked up interpretations of my religion.  Daisy Edgar-Jones's heart-wrenching performance made it all the more poignant for me.  Just like Garfield's  Utah detective brought warmth and humanity to the narrative.  I watched the first two episodes of the series, and I have no intention of spoiling the plot.  But I will say that they have scenes interspersed that depict scenes from early church history, just like Krakauer's book, including portrayals of Joseph Smith and Emma Smith (portrayed by the lovely Tyner Rushing).

I do have some minor criticisms about the show, but they are just small items - like I grew up in the early '80s in rural Utah, and no active LDS member dressed like that or wore their hair like that, at least that I knew.  And the dialogue feels a bit stilted sometimes.  I felt the same way about Big Love.  It's like, they are using our vernacular, our buzzwords, but not in any way that anyone I know would use it.  Perhaps it's meant to be expository for the uninitiated, but dude, no plyg I know talks that way.  Even my daughter, who has not chosen the faith, made the same observations.

Beyond those very miniscule criticisms, this series is impressive.  It's definitely top notch and needs to win some Emmys.  It is beautifully shot.  The acting is superb and believable.  The emotional intensity is high.  (Be warned: this is not a "feel good" show.)  It will have you at the edge of your seat.

So, why did I feel my face get hot when I described the series to my Mormon fundamentalist father-in-law this morning?

Because I know how plygs are going to take this.  And that's as a personal attack on our culture.  They will feel - as they have felt before, and with good reason - that all polygamists are being painted with the same broad brush.  And perhaps they are.  I don't know.  I personally heard Dustin Lance Black, the show's creator, state that this is the story of a family's "descent into fundamentalism and darkness".  As if the two are equivalent.  And they're not.  I know they're not.  I'm not sure if he meant it that way, but it felt that way.  I'm not going to lie - it really stung to hear that.  Most fundamentalists I know are nothing like the Laffertys.  But let's be honest - all of us in the plyg world know someone, or many someones, like them.  

So, the question to ask - what is it about our religion and culture that draws some of the smartest, most compassionate people I know, along with some of the most batshit-crazy zealots?  How can this incongruous mix of people exist side by side?  Do you know how many people I have known over my long career who have claimed to regularly speak with God?  Who believe they are the One Mighty and Strong?  Or some reincarnation of some biblical prophet?  I've lost count.  There have been so many.  Generally, I tend to try to stay away from them as much as possible.  I never let fundamentalists get close to me until I've vetted them and know them better.  There is a reason that I love being an Independent, without church or group.  So that I can put distance.

Case in point - I'll never forget the time many years ago that I invited a man I had never met to the house to visit.  He and I sat outside my house on chairs, and one of the first things he said to me was his sexual preference in young girls.  I couldn't get that guy away from my property quick enough, but I remember worrying, "This guy knows where I live."  I'm not so trusting now.

That is the question - what is it in my religion that attracts these types of extreme personalities?  That is the real question.  And the answer?  I don't really know.  As a believer, I have some spiritual explanations, but I don't think I will be casting these pearls before the proverbial swine.  (Not that you're swine.)  But these are the questions we need to ask, because the Laffertys are not an anomaly.  Eventually, there was a Brian David Mitchell.  And then a Chad Daybell.  It keeps happening over and over again.  We need to have a dialogue about it, so that we can understand and so that it doesn't happen again.  Perhaps this TV series will spark that discussion.

Perhaps that's what Jon Krakauer - and Dustin Lance Black - had in mind when they both set out to tell this story.

I feel fortunate and blessed to know that there is also beauty in Mormonism.  I prefer to focus on the light, not the darkness.  But not to the point of denying the existence of the darkness.  And recognizing it in ourselves. We tread on dangerous ground when we think there is nothing left to learn.  I think it was expressed best by Andrew Garfield, in a theater in downtown Salt Lake City two night ago, "A life of faith is not a life of certainty.  A life of faith is a life of doubt."

To Plyg Or Not To Plyg: Utah Challenges Anti-Polygamy Laws

Hello, everyone!  Yes, it had been a while since all y'all have heard from me.  I'm still around.  There is so much going on in the world of polygamy that I felt like I was dropping the proverbial ball if I didn't comment on it.

So here it goes...

Utah currently has a bill before its legislature that would essentially "decriminalize" polygamy.  I use quotation marks, because the bill doesn't literally decriminalize the practice - it reduces it from a felony to a misdemeanor.  It would be a punishable offense.  But hey - a victory is a victory.  The bill passed unanimously in the Senate.  Read about it here.  It still must pass through Utah's House of Representatives where its fate will be determined - will this be a victory for polygamists?  Or a smackdown?  It remains to be seen.

Some may remember back in January, 2013 when Kody Brown and wives of "Sister Wives" fame challenged the anti-polygamy laws in federal court, and a judge ruled that those laws were unconstitutional.  That was a great day.  I was up late that night, celebrating with other polygamists on social media late into the night, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth with the "antis".  That victory was short-lived.  The ruling was struck down, because there needs to be an active prosecution in respect to the law in order to challenge it.  In other words, there was no polygamy charge levied against Kody Brown.  Utah has not prosecuted polygamy in decades.

I have been asked by friends, "Why do you care if Utah has anti-polygamy laws?  They don't enforce them.  It doesn't affect you."  No, it doesn't affect me.  Yes, I live in Arizona.  But the reason I don't live in Utah is its laws.  The threat is always there.  Nobody wants to live under that intimidation.  "We're not going to arrest you... but we could if we wanted!"

So, how did this bill pass the Senate in very mainstream LDS Utah?  Unanimously??  They provided a rationale that I have used for almost two decades.  The abuses that stereotypically exist in plural marriage - sexual abuse, domestic violence, underage marriage, welfare fraud, etc. - are caused by the culture of secrecy that has sprouted up due to strict anti-polygamy laws.  Much in the same fashion that Prohibition created a bootleg culture, along with theft, murder, and other crimes, making polygamy illegal has pushed it into the shadows, allowing the evil designs of men like Warren Jeffs to flourish.  Because they were not accountable to anyone.  Because everyone was quiet.  You don't talk about your beliefs to the world.  You don't take your brother to the law.  And if you're a plural wife enduring abuse, you don't take your issues to the authorities, because you yourself may be arrested for living polygamy.  It's a mess.

These are the very things that I said to Mike Watkiss, formerly of Arizona Channel 3, in a letter back in 2008.  (I can no longer find the letter online.)  These are the things I spoke about in my TV interviews, and I ruined my credibility in the polygamous communities because of it.  Why?  Because you DON'T GO TO THE MEDIA!!  Why?  The culture of secrecy.  You're not supposed to speak out, rather remain hidden, and go unnoticed.  And if you speak, you're not just risking yourself, but everyone else.  One man in a polygamous community called me a "wicked, wicked man" for going to the media.

This culture of secrecy has to end.  Only when everything is transparent will the abuses end.  Only when things are out in the open will there be accountability when men try to take advantage of this system.  Luckily, this is the argument that went before Utah Senate.  And cooler heads prevailed.

They realized that for well over a hundred years, the polygamy "problem" did not go away.  You are not going to get rid of polygamy.  Ever.  Not upon threat of jail.  Not upon the threat of death.  Nothing short of ethnic cleansing will get rid of this lifestyle.  So another solution must be presented.  Hence, the new bill.

It made my heart proud to see the response of overwhelming support from the Mormon fundamentalist community.  They gathered on the steps of the capitol to show solidarity.  There has also been an overwhelming response from the naysayers and anti-polygamist hate groups.

First of all, I must say that I am a lot less vitriolic towards them than I was wont to be in days past.  I still don't like them.  But at least I understand them a little.  These women are mostly victims of this culture of secrecy that I have been speaking of.  They suffered real hurts and pain at the hands of men abusing the Principle.  Who am I to judge them?  However, who are they to judge us?

Granted, I have not been a polygamist for many, many years now.  Maybe that accounts for my softening.  But I still remember the nights when I would lay awake, worried that someone would come to take my kids away, that someone would lie and make up shit to obtain that objective.  Even with the presence of this bill, there has been quite a clamor from the antis.

There was a demonstration where the antis slapped stickers that read "Slave" on the chests of women, equating slavery and polygamy.  They had the ill fortune of placing one on Rep. Sandra Hollins, an African-American woman.  The thoughtlessness is astounding.  However, this has always been the method of the antis - lying, overdramatization, false rhetoric, ignoring decency, and, in this case, outright racism.

Fortunately, there have been advocates like historian, Cristina Rosetti (check out her Twitter) and Lindsay Hansen Park, who did my Year of Polygamy interview.  I need to clarify that neither of these great women are pro-polygamy.  Cristina isn't even Mormon.  They just recognize that, for things to change positively in the world of plural marriage, that the change must start within the walls of the capitol building.  Check out Linday's excellent article about the racist narratives used in this argument right here.  These women may not want my gratitude for their defense.  But they have it.

In closing, my message is:  Utah - you made this problem.  You need to fix it.  You're doing a great job so far.  Keep it up.  Don't let us down!

PS  Relax, Utah Mormons.  The Church is not going to bring back polygamy anytime soon.

From Punk To Polygamy, Part 1

Me in 1988, age 18

In my recent interview on the "Year of Polygamy" podcast, Lindsay Hansen Park asked me briefly my history as a teen in the punk movement, as she thought it was an interesting aside about me.  She asked me if I thought that this interest in counter-culture movements might have contributed in any way to my embracing such an unconventional lifestyle like Mormon fundamentalism.  I mentioned that it indeed has.  There was a time when I tried to re-write myself, but, the older I get, the more I realize that punk - and other movements - helped to shape me and have made me who I am today.  I am grateful for that and have learned to embrace that part of me.  She has asked me to give a presentation at the Arizona Sunstone Symposium this March called "From Punk To Polygamy: The Story of a Mormon Fundamentalist".  I am sure that she will want me to focus more on the "Mormon fundamentalist" part than the "punk", but I thought I would write a little about that part of my life.

I grew up in Southern Utah in the late '70s.  Back then, the only thing that they played on the radio was country music.  In the home, my dad had a huge record collection he had amassed on his mission in Mexico, so we listened to rancheras and mariachi music.  Around 1979, at the age of 9, I started listening every Sunday to Casey Kasem's "American Top 40" on a portable radio.  It changed my world.  The first time I heard "Back in Black" by AC/DC, I sat transfixed, staring at the radio,  I had never heard anything like it.  It seemed almost forbidden.  From then on, I was listening to everything I could from that era - The Police, Blondie, Rod Stewart, Styx.  This was the stuff that I listened to.

In 1982, our family moved from Utah to Casa Grande, Arizona, a small town on the outskirts of Phoenix.  For a kid from rural Utah, this was a huge change.  It was '82, and I was the only kid in school still wearing bell bottoms.  I had older brothers in high school, and they made friends in the local LDS ward.  I remember, after Mutual, going to my parents' shop after hours with my older brothers and their friends to listen to heavy metal music on a record player - Rush, Ozzy, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest.  And so I became a metalhead.

Me in the center with friends from Texas, 1986

My older brother, like my dad, had a huge record collection.  His tastes became diverse, and he ranged from the conventional into more obscure bands - Motorhead, Testament, Voivod, Venom, Slayer, and Metallica.  We were listening to "Kill 'Em All" before anyone really even knew who Metallica was.  I remember some conflict between my dad and brother over the record collection and my dad throwing out some of the records that he perceived to be satanic.

And because these bands were influenced by hardcore punk, we started exploring that music - or rather, my brother started exploring, and I listened to whatever he listened to - Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, JFA, Junior Acheivment, Reagan Youth, Fear, Crass.  My brother moved on with metal, but I stuck to punk.  I was in junior high at the time, and the only other kid in the school who listened to punk was a kid named Matt who had just moved from Chicago.  I started going to his house, and we developed a love for horror films and art, fantasy fiction like H.P. Lovecraft, obscure metal and punk.  He introduced me to music like 45 Grave, Christian Death, The Effigies, and SNFU - pretty heavy stuff for some junior high kids.

The summer before I started high school, my oldest brother came home from college with a bag full of cassettes that I raided when he wasn't around.  That bag of cassettes - filled with what was then called "college music" also changed my life - XTC, INXS, R.E.M., The Cure, Depeche Mode, and New Order.  I started adding this music to my repertoire.

The Baron, me, & Matt in Round Rock, Texas, 1986

Once I got to high school, I learned that the people who listened to this kind of music were a minority.  Yes, we were close to metropolitan Phoenix, but this was still Arizona.  We were in a town dominated by cowboys and ranchers.  Anything underground was foreign and weird to them.  They made fun of us and our music.  In reaction, we changed our appearance and looked more garish - shaved our heads, used lots of hairspray, wore lipstick and eyeliner, tore our jeans, wore tees that reflected our musical tastes, wore combat boots, wore black.  One of the things that marked my generation that still persists today - we hate anything mainstream, and we embrace anything artistic, obscure, or indie.  We couldn't even drink Bud or smoke Marlboros like our cowboy counterparts - it had to be foreign beers and clove cigarettes.  Not only was our taste in music off the mainstream, but our choice in movies - "Eraserhead", "Blue Velvet", "A Clockwork Orange". This clique in Casa Grande, Arizona became very close and tight knit.  The cowboys called us "mods", albeit incorrectly.  Many of us to this day still maintain close contact through social media.  We have that shared experience of living in a small cow town, but bonding over our love of underground music.

Me & Melissa before a rave, 1990

For instance, there was Melisa, someone who made a great impact on me.  She was so cosmopolitan and "with it" that she was ahead of the times before anyone else.  For instance, she liked Madonna before anyone had even heard of her.  My youngest brother nicknamed her the "Black Widow" because of her affinity for wearing black.  We met because, at the beginning of my sophomore year, I was wearing a DIY, homemade Exploited shirt, and it drew her attention.  We started talking about music, and her knowledge was considerable.  She turned me on to Arizona's first alternative radio program coming out of Tucson on Sunday nights in 1985.  She introduced me to the music of The Smiths, The Jam, Style Council, and Siouxsie and the Banshees.  My friend from junior high, Matt, had moved outside of Austin, Texas, and continued to be instrumental in introducing new music to me, mostly gothic stuff, like Cocteau Twins, who remains to this day my all-time favorite band, as well as Dead Can Dance, This Mortal Coil, Bauhaus, and Clan of Xymox, stuff that I am still very much into.

The Domes

So, what did we do for fun?  These usually included forays into Phoenix where there was a readily available nightlife.  My older brother played in thrash metal band called Pedifile that was fairly well known locally.  While attending his shows, I got to see and meet members of the underground metal scene like members of Metallica, King Diamond, Fates Warning, and Sacred Reich, as well as honing my skills in the mosh pit (chipped my tooth).  There were a few alternative clubs that we would attend in Phoenix and Tempe - Prisms, Out of Water, Six Feet Under.  But mostly, we hung around town, throwing parties at homes or in the desert, blasting our music into the desert sky,  One of our favorite locations were a set of abandoned domes in the middle of the desert.  We simply called them "The Domes", and they were an eerie set of buildings with concrete floors, our laughter echoing off the walls.  They are heavily tagged now, but I was one of the first people to spray-paint graffiti on the walls - poetry about vampires.  The Domes are still in the desert and occasionally make online lists about haunted places in the U.S., although one has collapsed in recent weeks.

By the end of the '80s, people like us had banded into a cohesive movement.  120 Minutes was the show we all watched on MTV every Sunday night to watch videos from Husker Du or Peter Murphy to keep up on the latest music.  Arizona had its own alternative station with its smooth-voiced host, Jonathan L, who organized Q-Fest, the first alternative festival in the nation, before Lollapalooza.  (I attended the second Q-Fest). I feel lucky to have been part of this scene before it got big.

Me & my Valentine, Andi in 1987

So how did  my parents view all of this?  With remarkable tolerance.  My parents always knew that I marched to the beat of my own proverbial drum, and they did little to suppress my creative side.  The most "oppression" that I got was my dad making me cut my hair a couple of times.  Remember: all of this time, I was an active LDS kid, passing sacrament every Sunday.  In fact, some of the kids in my ward were in my "clique".  I was very careful about not getting too out of hand.  I was good at wiping off the eyeliner or lipstick or eyeliner before I got home from school, or taming my hair.  I was kind of a wild kid, and I am lucky I didn't get thrown into jail.  I remember being called a "punk kid" by a Chandler police officer and thrown down onto the hood of a car, being threatened with arrest.  The officer didn't arrest me, but let me go, and I went home shaken, my parents not even aware of the details.  By all accounts, I should either be in jail, rehab, or dead by now.  I can't account for having turned out okay.

So, why did I do it?  I moved from Southern Utah to a town with a lot of money, a lot of rich ranchers.  My family was never well-off.  We wore clothes from K-Mart.  We didn't have name brands - Polo, Reebok, Izod.  Everything in the '80s was about the brand.  If you couldn't afford to wear the brand, if you wore the imitation, you were made fun of.  I tried really hard to fit in my freshman year.  They never accepted me, and so I rebelled.  I started wearing combat boots and ripped jeans.  I would save my lunch money and buy the ugliest shirts from the '60s that I could find  from the thrift stores.  Then something surprising happened - in purposefully trying not to fit in, I became somewhat popular.  People knew me for having a unique style, and I guess it resonated with some.

I also started learning to think for myself at this time.  I became very interested in Marxist philosophy and read "The Communist Manifesto".  I became interested in the punk DIY ethic and anarchy.  I read underground, poltical 'zines, and even published one issue for our school, which was a lot of work before word processors.  I spoke like a revolutionary.  My girlfriend Andi and I got nominated for king and queen of the Christmas Ball.  I refused to participate, because I rejected popularity contests only to find Andi kind of mad at me.  I didn't take into account what she wanted.

So, all of this prepared me for life as a Mormon polygamist.  During this time, my dad was making an active effort to teach us more about the old Mormon doctrines of plural marriage and United Order.  I will continue the story tomorrow about my journey into Mormon fundamentalism and how music was a part of this.

Year of Polygamy

So, I was recently contacted by Lindsay Hansen Park, one of the directors at the Sunstone Foundation, a Mormon think tank.  Lindsay has been a series of well-known and well-received podcasts called "Year of Polygamy".  I was honored that she picked me to be a part of it.  I quipped that this was what every narcissist needed - a forum to talk about themselves!

This last Tuesday, I was snowed in at home, and I had to fire up my generator just to talk.  I made a Skype appointment to interview with Lindsay.  She was very kind, and it is very nice to have someone at her intellectual caliber give Mormon fundamentalists and polygamists such an objective voice.  It was a pleasant experience.

Anyway, the podcast aired yesterday, and I am very pleased with how it turned out.  In essence, I give highlights from my life.  I hope it is interesting.  You can listen to it here.

Lindsay has given me the possibility of presenting at this year's Arizona Sunstone Symposium with a segment aptly entitled "From Punk Rock to Polygamy".  I am looking forward to it!