Utah History

Power to the People: How Enterprising Mormon Pioneers Electrified Utah

Salt Lake was fascinated with electric lighting early on. In more rural areas of Utah, if people wanted power they had to rely on enterprising individuals like the Daniels brothers. In the evenings, after work, Thomas Jr. built a dynamo (generator) that would later run the first electric lights in Payson. He and his brother,…

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Photo by Maria Milligan.

When the Mormon pioneers arrived in Utah they found an inhospitable desert. A few decades later, Utah was a major transportation hub with flourishing communities and electric lights illuminating orderly streets and fruit trees. So how did these destitute refugees create a prosperous, modern society in a matter of years?

Daniels Family 1943.

You can get some insight into this phenomenon by following one family—my family—as they navigated and influenced their changing world.
Thomas English Daniels was a typical Mormon pioneer: his family joined the Church in England and came to join the Saints in America.

When the Mormons were forced out of Nauvoo, he crossed the plains to Utah with his siblings and widowed mother, seeing suffering and death on the way. When they arrived in Utah, the family was asked to settle in Utah County.

With little access to advanced education or the latest technology, pioneers had to get creative as they built their new society. Many used knowledge from the lives and careers they left behind to make their community work. Others changed occupations based on need and availability. Thomas’s sons saw this need in electricity.

Salt Lake was fascinated with electric lighting early on. In more rural areas of Utah, if people wanted power they had to rely on enterprising individuals like the Daniels brothers. In the evenings, after work, Thomas Jr. built a dynamo (generator) that would later run the first electric lights in Payson. He and his brother, James, also made lights for the first electrification of Provo at the woolen mills.

Thomas English Daniels and Sons.

Small operations like theirs were popping up across the state, but as Utah grew more connected, people needed more reliable sources of energy. The Thomas brothers knew the state could make more use of its rivers for power (they’d owned a sawmill in Daniels Canyon for several years). The potential for hydroelectric power from streams and reservoirs was exciting, but also required more structure. Smaller companies were bought out by a series of larger companies, finally culminating in Utah Power and Light.

James and Thomas adapted to the conglomerate that swallowed so many of the local power companies, moving beyond their small community to help electrify the state. With James’s son Cleon, the brothers helped establish significant hydroelectric power sources in Grace,

Idaho and Logan, Utah. Cleon made his career as an employee of Utah Power and Light, making sure the hydroelectric dams supplied reliable, consistent power.

I heard about the family’s part in Utah’s development from Cleon’s daughter, my grandmother. She had fond memories of growing up in a company house in Logan Canyon, next to the hydroelectric dam her father helped build and manage. She loved growing up with the trees, the river, and all the electricity they could want. Due in large part to the efforts of her father and others like him, her world was very different from the one her grandfather was born into.

It took a lot to transform Utah into that world: a transcontinental railroad, strong leadership, and dedication to keeping up with scientific advancement. But it also took the work and creativity of local people who wanted to make their world better.

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    To access this post, you must purchase Utah Stories (Digital + Print) or 3 month free trial (Digital).


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  • Whiskey, Bullets & a Buried Town: Archaeologists Reveal Alta’s Wild Past

    Before Alta was known for powder days and lift lines, it was a silver mining town clinging to the side of a narrow canyon. In the late 1800s, men lived at 8,000 feet, went underground each day, and endured winters that regularly buried buildings in snow. This past summer, that mining town resurfaced — literally — during construction at the Alta Ski Area.

    To understand what Alta really looked like, you don’t begin with legend. You begin with its trash — and this time, that happened almost by accident.

    Alta Ski Area was installing underground water reservoirs to support snowmaking. Because the project sits on Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest land, an archaeologist was required to monitor the excavation. No one expected the trench to produce much.

    But, It did.

    Artifacts began surfacing almost immediately. Enough that the Forest Service contacted the Utah State Historic Preservation Office for help. Lexi Little, who coordinates the Utah Cultural Site Stewardship Program, helped mobilize nearly 30 volunteers to assist with what quickly became a focused two-week excavation.

    Winter deadlines were approaching. The pipes for the reservoirs had to go in the ground. There wasn’t time for a slow, extended dig.

    “It was two weeks of digging in the dirt and helping figure out exactly what we were looking at,” Little said.

    Most of the people screening soil weren’t professional archaeologists. They were trained stewards from around Utah — part of a statewide volunteer network that now approaches 500 people. They poured dirt through shaker screens, scanning for fragments that could piece together a town long buried.

    “Archaeology is human trash,” Little explained. “Archaeologists are very into trash.”

    Alta had left plenty behind.

    https://youtu.be/hzIHzx3OGoo?si=dKcl2CEz-t6FZzYw

    Victorian-style ceramics appeared first — the kind typically used in hotels. Medicine bottles followed. Ink bottles. Hand-blown glass. A porcelain doll’s foot surfaced from the soil, a small detail that shifted the mental image of the town. Families were here. Children were here. This wasn’t only a camp of miners.

    The bottles helped establish time. Manufacturing details — whether glass was hand-blown or mold-made, whether a maker’s mark appeared on the base — allowed archaeologists to date many of the artifacts to the 1870s through the 1890s, when Alta was booming as a silver mining town.

    “That gives you that range of dates for when Alta was really booming,” Little said.

    One reusable soda bottle clearly stamped “Salt Lake City” connected the canyon to the valley economy below.

    Then something unusual rolled out of a dirt pile.

    A corked bottle. Intact. Liquid still inside.

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