ARCHIBALD WALLER OVERTON BUCHANAN 1830-1915 WHISTLING AND WHITTLING BRIGADE - NAUVOO Archibald was baptized on his ninth birthday, 9 February 1839, some of his family having been converted by missionaries as early as 1834. His father died in Lima, Illinois, the same year he was baptized, leaving his mother with 10 children. The family suffered the persecutions of the Saints in Caldwell Co. Missouri and the violence of being expelled with the rest of the Saints in 1838. In late 1838 and 1839, they were in Quincy and Lima, Illinois where John died, and they were in the midst of the persecutions of the Church there. After her husband’s death, Nancy Ann moved her family to Nauvoo for safety. They were there when the Prophet Joseph Smith and Hyrum were martyred. Archie was 14 years old. He relates: “About this time, [after the martyrdom] when there were many strangers among us, we boys were organized into little groups to follow these people to find out about them and what their intentions were. We were called a ‘Whistling and Whittling Brigade.’ It was organized among the younger boys and I was one of them. We watched around town for people who were strangers. If we saw a man looking around, whom we did not know, we would go up reasonably close to him and start to whistle and whittle. We followed him at a fairly close distance, just enough to be an aggravation to him and yet not to be too close. If he came to us and asked questions we did not look up nor did we answer but only continued to whistle and whittle. I suppose we were too young to hit individually but if he had attacked us, the group could easily have overcome him so there was really no danger. With this method we were able in many cases to force the stranger out of town.” He also remembered: “Because I was there I must tell you that I saw with my own eyes the mantle of the prophet fall upon Brigham Young. I heard the voice of Brigham Young become the voice of the Prophet Joseph. I heard this with my own ears, and I again bear witness that the Council of the Twelve was to be the leaders of the Church. Mother and her family were willing to follow them.” (By Claudine Cable, Great-great-great granddaughter.)

Teenage Witness to the Martyrdom

BY GOLDEN R. BUCHANAN

Just a lad of eight or nine was I, but I have not forgotten what he said, or how the old man trembled as he talked.

Grandpa Archie sat in Mother’s rocker, waiting for his lunch. Suddenly he called me to him, took me on his lap, and said, “Golden, I am old. I won’t be around much longer, but I have something to say to you that must not be lost. I want my grandchildren and their children to know that I was in Nauvoo when they murdered our Prophet.”

His old body trembled, and he squeezed me until I was almost frightened as I felt the deep anger in his soul. His feeble eyes blazed, and his soft, faltering voice became as hard as ice, and as cold:

“How I hated those who dared lay their hands upon the prophet I loved.”

He sighed, and his old body relaxed a little. “I was there when they brought their bodies back from Carthage. I saw their bloody, lifeless forms; I heard the anguished cries of their wives and neighbors; I saw their sobbing children and tried to comfort them.

“I knew the Prophet’s boys, played with them. They were often in our home, and I in theirs. Now they were fatherless, even as I. Their father was a martyr by bullets; my father was dead because of drivings, persecutions, and hate—but no less a martyr for the truth.

“I was there when they buried the sandbags to deceive the mob and laid the bodies in secret graves.”

Grandfather paused. He needed strength. And then he went on: “Listen again, my son. I tell you this because I want you to know. After the Prophet’s body fell from the window at Carthage, the mob rushed upon him to desecrate his body. But God would not permit this act of violence. He sent a sheet of lightning between the Prophet and those sons of the infernal pit, and they dared not touch him. Golden, my son, remember this—they could not touch him. They ran and are running still and will run till judgment day.”

He was tired now and his voice trailed off, “I hope I am present at that day.”

He dozed. Slowly the color crept back into his face, and when he opened his eyes, they shone with a light I had not seen before. Holding me at arm’s length, he commanded with a voice that no longer shook:

“My boy, look at me and listen. I want you to hear it from one who was there. I want you to hear it from one who loved him. I want you to hear it from one who knows.

“Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Through him God restored his church, and it will never be destroyed or taken from the earth. Now, my boy, remember what I say. I, your grandfather, was 14 then, and I wasthere.”

Editor’s note: The family of Archibald Buchanan (1830–1915) joined the Church in 1835 at Lima, Illinois. He came to Utah in 1852, filled a mission in the Elk Mountain Indian Mission, and afterward served for many years as Brigham Young’s interpreter to the Ute Indians. Brother Buchanan was a member of the first Sevier Stake high council.

[illustrations] Illustrated by Larry Norton

Brother Golden Buchanan is an assistant sealing supervisor in the Salt Lake Temple. He lives in Big Cottonwood 12th Ward, Salt Lake Big Cottonwood Stake.

Published in the June 1974 Ensign