We had a great stake conference the past two days. Just one of the many things that touched me deeply was the story of Caroline Hemenway Harman as related by our stake president, Maurice DeMille. I talked with Willyne about it after the meeting, and found we had both independently had resolved to learn more about this remarkable woman while listening to her story.
"Built long after the original academy on University Avenue, BYU's continuing education building was appropriately named for a woman of profound reverence for the Lord as she continued to serve with great wisdom and long-suffering, gentleness and meekness, kindness and pure knowledge throughout her life. Caroline Hemenway Harman teaches much about moving northward in human relationships.
"Elaine S. McKay tells the story of this remarkable woman, Aunt Carrie, in the Ensign.
[My note: It is worth looking at the full article in the October 1982 Ensign magazine, page 56, for additional details of her story. I looked without success for a picture of her, but apparently the original print version of the magazine had one, and there is a picture of her in the Harman Building on BYU campus. I would enjoy seeing it.]
"Aunt Carrie would not have expected to be remembered by anyone but her family. She lived quietly in a small Utah community. [In fact, the family home is still standing just down the road from our home.] To anyone outside an area twelve miles square, she was and is a stranger. And yet, there is something familiar about her uncommon courage. She is like our mother, our grandmother, an aunt, a niece or sister. Aunt Carrie represents countless women, unknown and unsung, who patiently do the thing that needs to be done and who in reality accomplish the important work of the world. She reminds us that deeds need not be great to be heroic. . . .
". . . On 26 January 1895 George [Reese Harman] and Caroline were married in the Salt Lake Temple. [Caroline was twenty-two.] During the next fourteen years they bought land, built a home, and became parents of seven children. Happiness grew out of industry, and they sorrowed only at the loss of their eldest child, George Luther, who died when he was four months old. . . .
"During irrigation turns, George often worked at night. One evening, wet and chilled, he caught a cold which developed into pleurisy. He died 12 August 1912, and Caroline, at 39, was left with the responsibility of a farm and six children. Her oldest daughter, Annie, was fifteen; the baby, Maurice, had just turned three.
"Four months later Caroline's sorrow deepened as she endured the death of her mother. But Caroline rallied to the responsibilities of life. Each day she arose at 5:00a.m.--to tend to household duties and to work in the fields and orchards. During the weekly irrigation turns, she would make beds in the wagon, hitch up the horses, and drive with her young sons to the fields to set the water. Three or four times during the night, Caroline would awaken the boys and help them 'change' the water. Only during haying season did they hire help. Caroline wanted her family to develop and use its own resources . . . .
"During World War I, Caroline's Relief Society responsibilities multiplied. In 1914, the sisters began meeting one day a week to knit sweaters for soldiers, roll bandages, and prepare other Red Cross supplies to be shipped overseas. In 1917, Caroline became Relief Society president of the Granger Ward.
"When the war ended, the deadly flu epidemic followed the soldiers home. Funerals were frequent. The Granger Relief Society made burial clothing, lined caskets, draped the chapel podium in white, cared for the sick, and comforted the bereaved.
"David and Grace [her sister and brother-in-law] were both stricken. In January of 1919, Grace gave birth to a son; a few hours later, weakened by the flu, she died. Grieving for her beloved sister, Caroline brought to her own home a six-hour-old baby boy--her sister's child, but a child whom she would always look upon as her own.
"Less than a month after Grace's death, . . . .in February, her daughter Annie died of the flu, a month before she expected her first child. . . .
"When Annie, with her unborn child, died, Caroline's health broke. Weeks later, she arose from her bed, calm and determined. The doctor diagnosed her illness as sugar diabetes. From that time on, she gave herself three insulin shots daily and carefully weighed her food. It was a private matter; she never spoke of her health. In the years to come, she maintained energy, strength, a cheerful countenance, and an indomitable sense of humor.
"Following Grace's death, David came to Caroline's home each day to see his baby son, Pete. . . . David's nine children needed a mother and he, a wife. On 29 October 1919, David and Caroline were married in the Salt Lake Temple. So, seven years after George's death, Caroline and her five children came to live in the big house on 3600 West and 4100 South.
"For many years this house was a central gathering place for neighborhood children who liked teeter-totters, swings made of rubber tires, kick-the-can games, and run-sheepie-run. Like all visitors, the children seldom left without a 'bit to eat.' . . .
"But at least twice a day the house was quiet. At breakfast and dinner time, all the leaves of the sixteen-foot-square table came out of the closet, the meal was spread, and it was time for family prayer. The huge Harman household tolerated teasing, wrestling, and noise. But quarrels were not permitted. Family members felt a unity that had begun long before David and Caroline married. Caroline honored David as patriarch, supported him as first counselor in the bishopric, and loved him deeply.
"In the spring of 1924, an itching rash spread over David's body. Despite his discomfort, he worked long hours. While dipping sacks of potatoes (or wheat, depending on the account) in a solution to prevent the disease, he noted that the rash on his hands healed. After checking with a doctor, David decided to bathe in the solution. Accounts differ as to what and how much he used, but the result was the solution literally ate him alive. His skin came off on clothing and bed sheets; his tongue and teeth fell out; his internal organs were burned beyond use. After one week, during which David never lost consciousness, he passed away from this world.
"David died with great courage and little complaint. Caroline lived in the same manner. At age 51, she was again a widow. She was now responsible for fourteen children, the youngest of whom was five-year-old Pete. She suffered complications from Diabetes. She was also Relief Society president of a ward with 948 members, 22 of whom were widows; and for Caroline, who served in the days before Welfare Services, this meant 'mothering' the entire twelve-mile-square ward. Her way was not to ask for help, but to give it. Always someone was being born or someone was dying; someone was ill or unhappy or hungry. Caroline knew what to do about illness, childbirth, and death. And she knew how to find happiness. When others were wild with grief, she was there to make beds, mop floors, fix meals, and sit up through the night with the bereaved to comfort them with her quiet strength. She became known throughout the territory as Aunt Carrie--kind, cheerful, loving, wise.
"How did she do it all with her large family? She did it with her large family. Year after year, the Harman sons drove her in a horse and buggy to visit every home in the ward--many times. Her black buggy would go to the houses of those who had 'enough and to spare' to gather goods to be shared with those who had little or nothing. The Harman girls frequently cooked and served meals to neighbors in need, and the boys stayed overnight with the aged or afflicted when Aunt Carrie could not be there.
"Aunt Carrie was a resourceful manager, and the children learned her ways. They had no money to spend, but the Harmans did not think of themselves as being 'poor.' They made bread, butter, cheese, horse radish, corned beef, apple cider, vinegar, and soap. Both sons and daughters farmed the land and cared for their animals, their orchard , and their garden. Every fall they bottled fruit, meat, and tomatoes and buried turnips, parsnips, carrots, and potatoes beneath the sawdust in the basement ice room. The girls sewed their few articles of clothing and kept their home scrubbed and orderly. If their chores were not done before the school bus came, they finished their tasks and walked to school. Aunt Carrie believed that idleness was a sin and taught that selfishness was the seed of misery. Everyone in the family learned to work--and more important, they learned to share.
"Within [a few weeks following a third marriage on 11 March 1925, her new husband] Eugene suffered a stroke, and became an invalid. For five years until his death in October 1930, Aunt Carrie prepared his food, helped him bathe and dress, and ministered to his many needs.
"In 1929 Aunt Carrie was released as president of the Relief Society. She has served in that organization under three bishops for some eighteen years. . . .
"Aunt Carrie devoted much of her time to developing her chicken business. Her chickens had become a symbol of her doctrine of hard work and independence. During the worst of the Great Depression, the well which provided water for the house and chicken coops went dry. Aunt Carrie refused the help of the government programs under which she qualified for a new well; so Pete, Jack, and Jake carried water from across the road. Carrying water for the house was one thing, but quenching the thirst of hundreds of chickens was quite another. Finally, when Aunt Carrie had saved sufficient funds, she had the well repaired.
"Years later, when all the children were gone, the pump sometimes failed. During winter time, Aunt Carrie would scoop snow into a big oval 'boiler,' melt it on the back of her coal stove, and carry warm water to her flock. . . .
". . . Aunt Carrie expected everything around her to be productive, and she would not have a lazy chicken. A hen who lacked commitment was invited for Sunday dinner . . . .
"[As she neared the end of her life, Aunt Carrie said,] 'I can face Grace . . . because I know that I did all she would have done if I had been called away and she had stayed. I have no regrets. Of course,' she added quietly, 'in some ways all our children could do better. And they will. We taught them right.' . . .
". . . Aunt Carrie, . . . according to her son Leon Weston (Pete) Harman, "had every reason to be waited on. Yet she continually served others. She never complained. She never quit. Aunt Carrie asked for so little, and gave so much." [Elaine S. McKay, "Remembering Aunt Carrie," Ensign, October 1982, pp. 5660]
"What can we learn from Caroline Harman's life? She exemplified service and dedication to life's responsibilities. She had no college degrees but learned from experiences thrust upon her to respond to human needs. She truly knew the importance of family and the relationships between members of the family. She learned and taught principles of self-reliance, opening opportunities for herself and her family. She learned and taught principles of self-reliance, opening opportunities for herself and her family. And she learned wisdom and the application of knowledge. From Aunt Carrie, from Karl Maeser, from Lyle McDonald, from Dr.McDermott, and from Sauan Sukhan, and from the countless others we have learned from, it is important that one's life become a reflection of the possibilities of hope, of meaning, of purpose--a reflection of God. It is, after all, not so much what we know but what we are willing to share that makes the difference. This is the challenge for each of us here today."
I believe that Sister Harman's entire life was a wonderful example of the power of being "the change you wish to see in the world". If you are looking to change the world, you might not be impressed with her world influence at first glance. But her extended family and the families of the Granger neighborhood of what is today West Valley City, a large Salt Lake suburb, would certainly beg to differ. Then you can consider the impact of Pete Harman, one of the nephews she raised as her own son.
"In 1957 Shirley Hamblin suddenly found herself, at 25, a single mother of five children. Her ex-husband had left the country, and she had no means to support her family. She eventually landed a job as a bus girl at the Harman’s Café on North Temple in Salt Lake City.
"One day soon after she began working, a man showed up at the restaurant and said hello. 'I didn’t know who he was,' Hamblin recalls. 'I was shocked when I found out it was Pete Harman, because he was so casual and kind.' Harman, who owned the restaurant and two others, learned of Hamblin’s circumstances and, with Thanksgiving approaching, made sure she was paid a little extra. Harman repeated the gesture until she was back on her feet.
“'He was so good to us,' says Hamblin, now retired after working for the company for 43 years, eventually becoming a store manager and then an area consultant for Harman Management Corp. “He wanted to make sure I could make a living for my children.”
"If Leon W. 'Pete' and Arline Harman have become known for helping the Shirley Hamblins of the world, Harman says it is because he knows what it is like to be in great need—and to receive great kindness. Losing his mother just days after his birth and his father five years later, Pete, along with his many siblings, was taken in by his widowed aunt Caroline Hemenway Harman, who would rear 14 children on her Salt Lake Valley farm. 'She was all service and no quit,' Harman remembers. 'She was always out helping.'
"So in the early 1980s, when BYU officials considered naming the new continuing-education building after major donor Pete Harman, he flatly refused. If they wanted to honor someone, he insisted, it ought to be his aunt Carrie.
"Pete and Arline’s success began in 1940 when, recently married, they made their first foray into the restaurant business, buying a run-down root beer stand for $700 and calling it the Do Drop In. During ensuing years, it grew into Harman’s Café. In 1951 Harman attended a convention in Chicago, where he met a charismatic goateed man. Dubbed a colonel by the governor of Kentucky for contributions to state cuisine, Harland Sanders had experimented with frying chicken in a pressure cooker. The next year Sanders dropped by the Harmans’ while traveling through Utah. Refusing his hosts’ offer of a meal, he instead proposed to fry up some chicken.
"It took only a few bites for Harman to know he wanted the chicken on his restaurant’s menu. With a handshake, Sanders agreed to share his secret recipe, for which Harman would pay a nickel for every chicken sold—making the Harmans the first franchisees of what became known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. Fifty-four years later, the Harman System has more than 300 restaurants in Utah, Colorado, Washington, and California.
"Though famed in the industry for his innovations, Harman feels most proud of ways his restaurants have fostered growth among their restaurant employees, particularly women like Hamblin. Early on Harman created a policy of sharing the company’s annual profits with employees, and he has encouraged store managers to become part owners of their stores. To Harman, treating employees well makes good business sense. 'Employees want to work for a fair employer,' he says. 'If you give them a halfway decent break, they’ll go a long ways beyond the capacity they think they’ve got.'
"This philosophy extends to the Harmans’ philanthropy to various organizations, particularly BYU. Since 1983 the Harmans’ scholarship fund has helped students afford an education, becoming BYU’s largest need-based scholarship from a private donor. Last year alone, the fund assisted 90 students.
"Having received a hand up in his own time of struggle, Harman says it is only natural that he should pass on the gesture, reaching out with encouragement and financial help to those in need. 'Money,' as he likes to say, 'is only good for what you can do with it.'"
So we see that Sister Harman's influence on Pete was passed on to his thousands of employees and their families, to hundreds of students to make their college education financially possible, and to influence countless people throughout the world who hear of her story because of the generosity of just one of the children she nurtured. Multiply that by her influence on the others in her family and hundreds of others in her ward, and you see she truly was the change she wished to see in the world.
All from a simple woman who was "all service and no quit". What a wonderful example to emulate!
