A tale of the Overland Trail which, more than 100 years ago was teeming with traffic (for that day) to and from the Pacific Coast and mines of Nevada and California, would have been lost except for a certain rock-walled cemetery. This cemetery is unique in that it was built for dogs. It is located near the Point Lookout Overland Stage Station about 80 miles southwest of Salt Lake City.
The moving spirit behind this story was Aunt Libby Rockwell, wife of Horace Rockwell, brother to Porter Rockwell, fearless enforcer of the law in pioneer days. Aunt Libby and her husband operated the stage station at Point Lookout and with Porter Rockwell had horse ranches in the area and in and about Government Creek, about 30 miles to the southwest.
Aunt Libby was childless and to fill the void, acquired pet dogs upon which she lavished her love, her time, and her means. She gave them names of famous persons including Jenny Lind, famed Swedish singer of that day, and Josephine Bonaparte. Also included in the menage were Bishop, Toby Tyler, Alack, and Roxie.
Aunt Libby’s two room cabin included a separate bed in an armchair with an especially designed sleeping cushion for each dog. Each dog also had its own dish into which Aunt Libby would distribute her choicest morsels. The hired men complained that they were second to the dogs when it came to meals.
Lige Perkins, one of the hired men, was summoned on one occasion when Aunt Libby decided she needed a change and was going to visit her people in Oakland, California. She laid in ample supplies, including a case of canned salmon which was reserved for the pet dogs (or so she thought.)
The late Dr. W. M. Stookey, who was reared in the Tooele area and later was an eye specialist in Salt Lake City, knew the family and knew Lige. Dr. Stookey recorded her words as follows:
“Now Lige, be sure you don’t neglect my pets. See that they have plenty to eat and don’t let Bishop stray off at night with the coyotes and make sure they are all in their beds at the proper hour. No matter what has to be left undone don’t neglect my dear dogs.”
Lige assured her that he would give the dogs his full attention. The story goes that Aunt Libby was hardly out of sight when Lige voiced his sentiments substantially as follows:
“Now you damn little ........and .......... I have been eatin’ after you long enough! From now on I eat the canned salmon and you get the scraps!”
When Aunt Libby returned, the dogs frisked about her and showed few signs of the adiposity which previously had hampered their movements. Aunt Libby proceeded to spoil her pets possibly even worse than before with petting, increased diet, and motherly attention. Nearly everywhere she went she took with her Josephine Bonaparte and Jenny Lind who were commonly referred to by the hired men as Mrs. Rockwell’s “two little bitches.”
But the dogs’ life was soon to be interrupted.
Little Roxie became dangerously ill. “Mrs. Rockwell,” Dr. Stookey recorded, was plunged into the deepest sorrow and fear as to the dog’s recovery. The little dog daily grew worse. What was to be done?
“I can’t let my poor little helpless pet lie here and die,” she reasoned tearfully.
She again summoned Lige. “We must send for Dr. Dods and get him here as soon as possible.”
But Dr. Dods (William Dover Dods) lived in Tooele some 60 miles away. The roads were bad and travel was slow at best. He was the only doctor in Tooele County and was of such a character (a former Army surgeon) that he would not take kindly to being summoned to care for a pet dog. He weighed about 250 pounds and made his rounds in a buckboard pulled by a white horse he called Crowder.
Anyway the doctor must be sent for and that at once, but he must not know that his patient was a dog, or he would not come. So a rider was sent forthwith requesting that the doctor come at once to see the seriously ill hired man, Lige. Aunt Libby instructed Lige to watch the pass and as soon as the doctor appeared in the distance, Lige must rush to his bed and pretend illness. Dr. Dods had not spared his horse, understanding that this was a real emergency. He covered the last mile downgrade at a fast pace. With his grip in hand he was soon at the bedside.
Lige was a six-footer and of sturdy build, not inclined to illness. After a number of questions from the doctor to which Lige gave evasive answers, Dr. Dods delivered himself as follows:
“By the great gods, there ain’t a G— d– thing the matter with you! What the hell did I come out here for?!
Aunt Libby stepped into the breach. “Doctor, as long as you’re here, one of my pet dos is dangerously sick,” she said.
Dr Dods uttered another blistering torrent expressing his disgust at being called to come such a long way to see a “damn dog.”
Aunt Libby assured him that she was willing and expected to pay for the long, hard trip. Responding to her tearful plea, he turned his attention to the real patient and did what was necessary to save the canine’s life. When his work was done and Dr. Dods was ready to begin the long drive home she inquired how much she owed him.
“One hundred dollars!” the doctor exclaimed. Aunt Libby handed him five shining twenty-dollar gold pieces, legal tender of that day, and the doctor proceeded homeward with satisfaction because of the pay and the satisfactory condition of his four-legged patient. Aunt Libby praised Dr. Dods’ skill and ability as a physician on many occasions thereafter.
But not many months later poor little Roxie was found dead in her bed. This death was a great shock to Aunt Libby and she shed many tears. Where should she bury the dear pet? It must not be at a site where the grave would be trampled upon by cattle or dug up by wolves, Aunt Libby decided. With due solemnity sand at least one tearful mourner the dog was interred alongside three human graves, two adults and a child who had died previously along the pioneer trail, their names and dates long forgotten.
Then came another tragedy. This time it was Bishop who was summoned.
At that time wolves, mountain lions, bobcats and coyotes were common in that area, especially coyotes. Nightly would come howls and yapping from nearby hills and cedars which would be answered by the baying challenge of Toby Tyler. Toby was a big mongrel who slept outside so he could keep tabs on his wild relatives. He would be joined in his baying challenge of the wildsters by a loud chorus of the small dogs inside the cabin. On this occasion shortly after nightfall a pack of coyotes set up a loud chorus near the ranch home. This was re-echoed across the hills by other bands taking up the chorus. Toby Tyler, Bishop, and others sped into the darkness.
One by one the dogs soon returned, all except Toby and Bishop. Toby returned a little later, but Bishop still was missing. A search in the darkness with loud calling was of no avail. Whether Bishop had been lured away by the wild females or had met with trouble in some other form could not be answered. Poor Aunt Libby was beside herself with fear and anxiety.
Seth Littleford, one of the hired hands was ordered the next morning to mount his horse and search for the dear missing canine. All day he hunted, returning at night, but no dog. Aunt Libby insisted that the search continue, and after he had scoured the country near and far, Littleford found the mangled remains. Evidently poor Bishop had been killed by the coyotes. The dear pet was buried alongside Roxie.
But Aunt Libby was not satisfied. Finally she summoned Carl Nelson and told him to build a substantial rock wall to protect the graves. Carl insisted that this was not in his line and suggested that she obtain the services of Gustave Johnson, a real rock mason. Johnson was engaged and proceeded to construct what became known as “Aunt Libby Rockwell’s Dog Cemetery.”
The original plot was about 15 feet square, enclosed by a rock wall about two feet thick and three feet high. This was to be built so it would endure for ages. Gustave shaped blocks of hard blue limestone carefully and cornered them accurately. Inside the enclosure on the graves were planted flowering tea trees, much used in the early days as ornamental shrubs. Also on the graves Aunt Libby placed pieces of crockery she used for flowers. She also would gather wild flowers in season to decorate the graves.
The Rockwells lived at Point Lookout from about 1866 to 1900. During that period the well beaten trail faded into obscurity. The horse ranches gave way to sheep trails. There seemed to be nothing more for Aunt Libby to live for. Alone most of her time, grieving over the loss and companionship of her pets she would sit for hours smoking a corncob pipe.
“Finally, weary and sick with disappointment and loneliness, she packed up and left her desert abode, never to return,” Dr. Stookey recorded.
Shortly afterward her own life came to a tragic end when she was burned to death after her bed and clothing were set afire from her burning pipe.
This reporter heard this story August 23, 1940 when he accompanied the late Elder George Albert Smith, President of the Utah Pioneer Trails & Landmarks Association; John D. Giles, Executive Secretary of that body; Dr. Howard R. Driggs, President of the Oregon Trail Memorial Association and others on a motor trip over the trail to dedicate monuments.
At a stop at Old Lookout Station they viewed the remains of Aunt Libby’s dog cemetery and heard Dr. Stookey tell its story. Dr. Stookey, with the aid of other influential persons, persuaded the U. S. Secretary of the Interior to improve the old Overland Trail. U. S. Grazing Service CCC camps were in operation at Simpson Springs and at Callao, not far from the Nevada State Line.
The CCC boys built substantial monuments at 15 of the old stations and constructed a substantial dirt road along the trail west from Faust Station, south of Tooele, to Callao, earlier know as Willow Springs. They also reconstructed the dog cemetery about 1944. The old route had become virtually impassable, the stations fallen into decay, burned or looted. The present graded road is a boon to sheep men. It also provides an access to Dugway Proving Grounds.
But to the history buff, it is priceless; marking the old Overland Trail. Simpson Springs, about 35 miles southwest from Aunt Libby’s Dog Cemetery along the historic route, now has picnic grounds, restrooms, and flowing water. Here one of the old Pony Express Stations has been restored. The 15 foot high monument was dedicated August 23, 1930 by Elder George Albert Smith.
Riverbed Station, also site of a monument, is at a point where water once flowed northward rom the Sevier Lake area into prehistoric Lake Bonneville.
But what has happened t the substantial bronze plaques imbedded in each of the monuments erected at that time? They have been looted by vandals who feel little love or respect for intrepid men and women of an earlier era who plied this route.
Ray Grass of the Deseret News sports staff made a motorcycle trip in 1981 over the Overland Trail route with a group of other buffs. Concerning Aunt Libby’s Dog Cemetery, he recorded: “Near the base of the mountain is a walled-in area about the size of a small room where, it is said, Porter Rockwell buried his wife and two family dogs. Vandals, though, have removed all forms of information.”
What a treasure trove of fascinating information is lost to our generation by those who have pried loose and stolen the plaques which were placed by men of the caliber and love of humanity possessed by George Albert Smith and all his helpers of an older generation!
The plaque on Aunt Libby’s Dog Cemetery read as follows: “Inclosing graves (west side) of two men and a child, emigrants of the early eighteen sixties. Original wall erected in 1889 by Mrs. Horace (Aunt Libby) Rockwell to shelter graves of her beloved dogs (1) Jenny Lind, (2) Josephine Bonaparte, (3) Bishop, Toby Tyler, companions in her lonely, childless vigil here, about 1866 to 1900.”
Dr. Stookey appended: “They died, but live again!”
Source: Original in the possession of Paul E. Barker, son
Electronic submission by Ruth Barker, daughter-in-law