A Gift from Andrew Carnegie1
George E. Little and two of his sons made a trip to the Teton Basin in 1889 to check out
its suitability as a place to live. They were impressed by what they saw: tall majestic mountains,
forests that would provide plenty of wood for houses, fences and other needs, beautiful streams
replete with trout and salmon, and in the nearby forests, deer, elk and other wildlife for the
taking. “This is the place for us,” thought George as his eyes took in the wonders of the valley.
View of the back side of the Tetons, from Teton Basin.
That first winter, one of George’s sons remained by himself on the land that the family
had selected—to secure their claim. The following summer George returned, with his wife,
Martha, and nearly all of his thirteen living children, some married and others still single.
Immediately he set to work building a saw mill and was soon providing lumber for other newly
arriving settlers.
George’s wife, Martha, was an exceptional, energetic woman. Born in England, she had
immigrated to America in 1854 with her mother and a sister, Maria. Life was difficult for her for
several years after her arrival in Salt Lake City. However, in 1861 she met George E. Little, a
Pony Express rider and they were married January 5, 1862. After living in several locations in
the Salt Lake Valley, their path finally took them to the Basin where they spent the remainder of
their lives.
At first, the Littles were nearly the only inhabitants of the area, but as word spread, others
quickly selected choice building sites. Soon a post office was needed and the Little home, with
Martha as postmistress, was selected to serve the community. Actually, the position paid very
little. The only money Martha earned was a small amount on the stamps that she sold for
outgoing mail. Still, it was something and with a large family she and her husband needed all the
extra income they could generate.
One of her frequent customers was Ed Morris, a bachelor from the east who had a small
place on Badger Creek. He was from a wealthy Pennsylvania family, but, due to reasons of
health, he had turned his back on high society and was living the life of a gentleman rancher in
the Basin. Almost every Sunday he would make the trip on horseback or by buggy from his
1
Martha Taylor Little was the recipient of Mr. Carnegie’s gift. She is my great grandmother. (Me → Alice Paul
Freeman → Marcia Little Paul → Martha Taylor Little. Martha Taylor is my grandchildren’s 3 rd great-grandmother.
remote ranch to Martha Little’s home and post office to pick up his mail. He was always a
welcome visitor. Well-educated and very friendly, he never flaunted his wealth and acted just
like he was any other neighbor. But despite his quiet manner, people could tell he was
different—in a good way. He would always have three or four letters waiting for him, but of
most interest to the Littles were the magazines and newspapers that came for him. Usually, he
would sit in the Little home, read his letters and newspapers and other reading matter, and then
take time to write a few responses to the letters he had received. Often he ate the main meal with
the family and fit in just as if he were another son or daughter. On leaving, he would leave one
or two of the newspapers and a magazine or two and the Little children would read them several
times from cover to cover during the following week.
One Sunday in the summer of 1901 eighteen-year old Estelle Little was at home while
the rest of the family attended church services. This was necessary since people came for their
mail whenever it was convenient for them, day or night or on Sunday. So it was essential for
someone to be always at home. When she heard a knock, she went to the door and answered it.
Standing before her was Ed Morris, and he wasn’t alone this time.
“Mr. Morris, it’s good to see you again! How are things out on your ranch?’ said Estelle
as she stood aside and opened the door wider.
“Things are just fine, Miss Little. I’d like to introduce you to my parents, Mr. and Mrs.
Morris. They’ve come out from Pennsylvania to spend a little time with me. I’ve told them
about my visits to your family and they are anxious to meet all of you.”
Estelle somewhat shyly greeted Ed’s parents as she looked closely at Mrs. Morris. Ed’s
mother was a lovely woman with carefully styled gray hair. She was wearing a very fashionable
traveling outfit, much nicer than anything women in the Basin had ever seen. Mr. Morris was
equally impressive. He was tall, like his son, and was wearing dark pants and a tailored tweed
jacket. “Mr. Ed must have warned his father about the dirt around here because he’s wearing
boots, but since they’re almost new they’re going to get awfully dirty,” thought Estelle as she
continued to gaze at the visitors. Realizing that she was staring, Estelle said,
“Oh, pardon my manners. Momma tells me I shouldn’t stare, but it’s just that your
clothes are so fine.”
Mrs. Morris smiled and replied, “Don’t give it a second thought. This is our first trip out
west and, well, we really didn’t know
quite what to wear. Do you think we
look strange?”
“Oh no, not at all! I’ve never seen
such a beautiful dress and I don’t think
even the bishop has a suit as nice as the
one you’re wearing Mr. Morris.”
Mr. Morris laughed softly and
Estelle, remembering her manners,
invited them to sit down in the family
The Little cabin, in the Teton Basin, 1891-92.
living room. The furniture was all homemade, but it was sturdy and not too uncomfortable.
“Momma and Pa have gone to Sunday School, but they should be home in a few minutes,” said
Estelle as she went into the post office area to retrieve Ed Morris’ mail. “Here’s your mail.
Maybe you’d like to look through it while you’re waiting. Can I get any of you a drink of water
or a glass of milk?”
Ed and his parents declined the offer and sat chatting amiably while Ed looked through
his correspondence. Estelle sat nervously, not knowing quite what to say or how to entertain
such distinguished guests. Fortunately, her anxiety was brief because it wasn’t more than a half
hour later when they heard a wagon pulling up in front of the house.
When George and Martha Little entered their home, they were surprised to see such
elegant visitors sitting in their living room. Introductions were made and soon the initial
awkwardness melted.
“Tell me,” said the elder Mr. Morris. “I understand from my son that you are Mormons,
and that you, Mr. Little, rode for the Pony Express.”
“That’s true,” said George. “We’re Mormons true blue through and through and I did
ride for the Express for a year or so, but that was a long time ago.”
Mr. Morris was fascinated. For one thing, he’d never met a real Pony Express rider nor
had he ever come across a Mormon. For more than an hour, he and George Little sat together,
with Mr. Morris asking most of the questions and George trying his best to give respectable
answers. Meanwhile, Martha and Mrs. Morris were occupied in the kitchen. Martha was busy
putting the finishing touches on the Sunday dinner and Mrs. Morris was just as eager as her
husband in asking questions of Martha. She wanted to know all about Martha’s trip to America,
her experience in the Basin and even requested copies of recipes for the chili sauce and other
homemade dishes Martha was busy setting out for the meal.
Finally, they all sat down, Martha, George and three children, Estelle, Nora and Mattie,
together with Mr. and Mrs. Morris and Ed. The table was brimming with sweet-smelling
aromas. Martha had put a large roast in the oven of the cook stove before they left for Sunday
School. Now she had added mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, pickled beets, bread and
butter pickles, homemade bread and fresh asparagus plucked from the river bank.
“Oh my,” exclaimed Mrs. Morris. “This is a wonderful meal. I don’t think I’ve ever
tasted anything more delicious. And your chili sauce adds a special flavor to the meat.”
Mr. Morris continued his questions about Mormonism. The topic seemed to fascinate
him to no end. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I’m curious as to what you do in your
meetings. Are they like what the Quakers do or do you say mass like the Catholics?
Martha laughed and said. “No, it’s nothing like the Quakers or the Catholics. In our
meetings we begin by singing a hymn, then have a prayer. Next someone gives a sermon or
teaches a gospel lesson from the Bible or the Book of Mormon. Then we sing some more and
end with another prayer. It’s really quite a simple service.”
“I’m curious,” continued Mr. Morris. “Do you have an organ in your church or do you
just sing the hymns without accompaniment?”
Martha dropped her eyes and looked flustered. “Well, to answer your question, I have to
say no. We don’t have an organ yet—but we’re saving money so that we can buy one.”
Realizing that he may have embarrassed his hostess, Mr. Morris said kindly, “Forgive me
if I have said anything inappropriate. It’s just that I think that an organ adds so much to the
musical experience. There are some, like the Presbyterians, who refuse to use an organ or piano.
They say that it detracts from the true message of the words, but I am not of that opinion.”
“Neither am I,” said Martha, recovering her composure. “I love to hear the organ. In
Salt Lake City, the Tabernacle has a wonderful organ and its music adds so much to the hymns
as they are sung.”
Hesitating a moment, Mr. Morris continued. “If you don’t mind my asking, how close
are you to reaching your goal? What are you doing to raise funds?”
Martha smiled wryly. “Well, as you can guess, there’s not much extra money floating
around the Basin. It’s us women that really want the organ. I’m president of what we call the
Relief Society and we have our own meeting every week. We talked about getting an organ and
agreed to sell our extra eggs for 25 cents a dozen and that goes into the organ fund. And once in
a while we have a bake sale, but times are hard.”
“How much money have you been able to raise?” asked Mr. Morris.
“To tell the truth, we’ve only got a little over twelve dollars to date. The cheapest organ
we’ve been able to find costs $50 so it’ll be a while before we get to hear an organ.”
“Do you have someone trained to play the organ?” asked Mrs. Morris.
“Oh yes. Our son’s wife, Zina, has an excellent singing voice and she learned to play the
organ when she was living in Salt Lake City. She can hardly wait until we get an organ.”
“You know,” said Mr. Morris thoughtfully. “I think there’s another way you can get an
organ. Have you ever heard of Andrew Carnegie?”
“Yes, I have,” said Martha. “We’ve read his name, along with the names of Rockefeller,
Morgan and others in the newspapers and magazines your son leaves for us to read.”
“Are you aware that he is also a philanthropist?”
“What’s a fil-and-throw-pist?” asked Martha.
With a chuckle Mr. Morris said, “It’s someone with a lot of money—more than he can
ever spend so he gives it away to worthy projects. I’d say your organ is a worthy project,
wouldn’t you?”
“Well, certainly, but I don’t think a man as important
as Mr. Carnegie would bother about giving an organ to a
little church out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Now don’t be so sure. I know for a fact that he’s
bought organs for churches in places as far away as Scotland
and England, and he even bought one for a little
Swedenborgian church with less than a hundred members in
Allegheny, New York.”
Allowing a little hope to take root, Martha said, “I
never realized that anybody was willing to give money to
buy organs.” After a pause she continued, “If you don’t
mind my asking, just what would I have to do to get Mr.
Carnegie to help us?”
Mr. Morris smiled and said, “It’s simple. Just write a
letter to him, describing where you live, your church and the
Andrew Carnegie
size of the congregation. Then have your pastor or minister
and some of your Relief Society members sign the request and mail it.”
Martha frowned. “I don’t know. I still think he’ll take one look at the letter and toss it in
the trash.”
“I’m sure he won’t. I hesitate to say this, but I know Mr. Carnegie personally. Prepare
your letter and I’ll write a brief personal note to accompany your request. I think you’ll be
favorably surprised at the response you get.”
Within a week Martha had met with other women in the Relief Society and had told them
what Mr. Morris had said. She even showed them Mr. Morris’ letter that he had handed her
when he and his wife and son had left the previous Sunday. Soon all of the women were buzzing
excitedly. Martha sat down, pen in hand and wrote, as prompted by the other women. After a
few changes and crossing out of things they felt were unnecessary or shouldn’t be said, the letter
read like this:
Dear Mr. Carnegie:
We’ve been told that you sometimes give money for a worthy cause, like buying
an organ for a church. And that’s why we’re writing this letter. We live here in the
Teton Basin and have a little log church where we hold meetings on Sundays and
sometimes during the week. There aren’t many of us. On a good Sunday, about one
hundred and twenty come to the meeting. We love to sing good old gospel hymns, but
we don’t have an organ, and we’ve been trying to save up for one, but times are hard.
So we’d like to ask you to contribute to our organ fund. We’ll be mighty
grateful for any help you can give. Oh, and maybe we shouldn’t mention it, but we’re
Mormons. In some ways we’re just like other churches because we believe in Christ
and sing hymns and try to live good lives.
We hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
The Relief Society Women
Haden Ward, Teton Basin, Idaho.
Martha and several other women signed their names to the letter and Martha took it home
and sent it with the next batch of mail that was leaving for Rexburg the following day. And then
the waiting began.
After what seemed like forever, she opened the mail pouch one day and found an officiallooking letter addressed to her, postmarked Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
“Oh heavens,” she cried out as she began ripping open the envelope. “It’s finally come.
Now we’ll find out if Mr. Morris knew what he was talking about or not.” Extracting the single
sheet of official stationary she read:
Dear Mrs. Little:
Mr. Carnegie has read your letter and decided to fund your
request. He agrees that an organ for your church is a very
worthy cause.
Please obtain the services of someone in your area who is
knowledgeable about organs and the needs of your congregation.
Have him recommend one or more appropriate instruments for
purchase and Mr. Carnegie will send a check to pay for the
organ.
Mr. Carnegie is delighted to be able to help you in your
effort to bring more spirit to the hymns sung in your
congregation.
Sincerely,
Henry Cabot,
Personal Secretary
When Martha finished reading the letter, she covered
her face with her hands to hide her tears. “I would never have
believed it if Mr. Morris hadn’t seemed like such an honest
man. I can hardly wait until our Relief Society meeting next
Thursday. Won’t the sisters be surprised!”
Martha shared her good news with the other women in
the Haden Ward. The name of Henry Lamreaux was
mentioned as being someone who knew something about
organs. After all, he owned a small organ that he carried about
to play for dances, weddings and church socials. Mr.
Lamreaux recommended an Estey organ2, a very fine instrument and Mr. Carnegie was notified,
whereupon he sent a $500 check to pay for it.
Some months later, in 1902, the organ arrived and was sent directly to Martha’s home, to
be placed in her church and to be used under her personal direction. Martha took it to the
meeting house, but it was quite a long time before in was formally turned over to the ward.
Many people thought that such a fine instrument should be given to the Teton Stake so that more
people could receive benefit from it, but Martha said, “No, it was given to the Haden Ward and
there it shall remain.”3
2
By the turn of the twentieth century, the family-owned Estey complex had expanded to become the largest organ
factory in the world. The company economically dominated the community of Brattleboro and ranked among the
largest industries of Vermont.
3
Two separate accounts of the organ gift have been passed down. One was by Estelle Little and the other by a
magazine journalist. First the account by the journalist:
“Haden, Idaho, April 5 [1902]
Andrew Carnegie has just given a $500 organ to a little Mormon church in this town. It will soon be
installed in the meeting house, a small log building in the morning shadows of the three Teton Peaks.
The middle and highest peak, Mount Hayden, lifts its triangle of eternal snow nearly 15,000 feet above
sea level. [To find Haden] on the map of the Rocky Mountain States, [first locate] Yellowstone National Park.
Trace southward along the Idaho-Wyoming line. This is the Teton Range, with its three sentinel peaks midway.
East of the Teton Range lies the famous Jackson Hole, the last retreat of American big game. To the west of the
Teton Range lies the Teton Basin, long, narrow, fertile, with scattered Mormon hamlets.
The meeting house was built by the contributed labor and means of the membership. Some cut the
logs, some hauled them to the site, some laid them in place, some brought other material from St. Anthony, the
nearest railroad station.
It takes nearly a week to make a freighting trip out and back. It is a hard trip over the barren foothills
between the Basin and the Snake River Valley, where the Oregon Short Line runs a branch up to St. Anthony.
There are blizzards in the winter (eight months of the year). There are dust and thirst in summer on the arid
foothills.
The meeting house serves for all social and sacred gatherings. The Mormons, young and old, attend the
Sunday services and the weekday dances. But the church lacked one thing-- an organ. The women of Haden
wanted one. But funds were low. They thought a small, $50 organ would suit them. But $50 meant untold labor
and sacrifice to those hard-working mothers. Mrs. George Little had a hope. She cherished it all the long white
winter of 1901-1902. Now she proudly shows a letter from Andrew Carnegie's secretary. It says that Mr.
Carnegies will give the Haden meeting house a $500 organ. "I told you old Mr. Morris would get us that organ,"
she said triumphantly.
Mr. Morris is the father of bachelor Ed Morris who has a ranch in a wild, picturesque spot, where
roars a stream fed by the ice caves and glaciers far up Mount Hayden's heights. The business and social circles
of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania might tell more of the Morrises. Mr. Morris has renounced business and social
gaiety and has gone to ranching for his health. The Basin democracy likes Ed Morris for his sturdy pioneer
qualities. They would not pretend to think more of him if they knew that he is closely related to Andrew
Carnegie. The Basin is not acquainted with celebrities.
When Maud Adams visits her step-father, H. K. Glidden, who lives in Jackson Hole, she travels the
length of the Basin to reach the only pass over the Teton Range. There is a Belgian nobleman, Count Julian de
Coster, who often visits Ed Morris and others in the Basin. There are tourists who pass through to the southern
entrance of the [Yellowstone] National Park. There are millionaire sportsmen who come out for elk, moose,
deer, wildcats, wolves, mountain sheep and bear. If the millionaires can't bag the game, their Basin guides can.
A guide who roughs the hills scorns the artificial distinctions of wealth and caste. In the hills a man is a man.
Last fall, Ed Morris's father and mother came out from the East to visit him. The elder Mr. Morris
liked to chat with his son's neighbors. One day he talked with Mrs. George Little about the Haden church. She
told how the handful of Saints were struggling to build up their mountain stake of Zion. She told him,
incidentally, how the women longed for a $50 organ. "Write and ask Andrew Carnegie to give you an organ," said
Mr. Morris.
Mrs. Little had read of the steel magnate and his magnificent benefactions, but Andrew Carnegie
seemed a long way off from the little log meeting house at the foot of the Three Tetons. Mrs. Little would as soon
have thought of asking the man in the moon for a church organ. Besides, she had read that the multi-millionaire
did not give money indiscriminately to any and every begging letter writer. "You write and I will endorse your
letter," said Mr. Morris. "I happen to know Mr. Carnegie." The endorsed letter was mailed. Then Mrs. Little
waited for the answer. The story got abroad in the settlement. Some smiled; they wondered if the endorsement
of such a plain man as Ed Morris' father would put an organ in the meeting house. "I heard that Ed Morris is
Mrs. Carnegie's brother," said one. "I heard that Ed Morris is Mr. Carnegie's nephew," said another. "He can't be
both; therefore he is neither," said the scoffers. But Mrs. Little had faith that the elder Mr. Morris' endorsement
would secure that cheap little organ from Mr. Carnegie.
Last week Mr. Carnegie wrote that the organ would be given. Not with a $50 organ, but a $500 organ
for the Haden meeting house. The philanthropist has made at least one gift that will be appreciated. The organ
will inspire and satisfy. The Basin folk are not without aesthetic culture. It is their mountain heritage. The Three
Tetons, by sun, or by moon, or star, in storm, in shine, teach beauty and harmony and sublimity.
The Haden organ is the only organ Mr. Carnegie has given which will minister to the whole range of
wholesome emotions, from ‘Praise God’ and ‘He is Risen’ to ‘Money Musk’ and ragtime.”
And now Estelle’s account:
“My father and mother, George E. and Martha Little, kept a Traveler's Inn on what was then the main
road between the Teton Valley, Rexburg and St. Anthony, Idaho. Mother was also postmistress. People came for
their mail whenever it was convenient for them, day or night or on Sunday. So it was necessary for someone to be
always at home.
One Sunday in the summer of 1901 I was at home alone. All other members of the family had gone to
Sunday School. While they were gone, a Mr. Ed Morris who lived on Badger Creek in the vicinity of what is now
Felt, came for his mail. Mr. Morris was from the East, a well-educated man and very friendly. He usually came for
his mail on Sunday and then stayed and answered whatever mail he received. In stormy weather he usually stayed
overnight at our home. We were always glad to see him, as he had quite a lot of mail, and all mother received for
being postmistress was cancellation of stamps on outgoing mail. Too, Mr. Morris brought us many papers and
magazines which we all enjoyed reading. He often told us children what fine people he thought our father and
mother were. He would spend hours talking to them and listening to their experiences. Father was a pioneer of 1847
and a Pony Express rider, and mother a pioneer of 1855 and as a child had walked across the plains.
On this particular Sunday Mr. Morris had his father and mother with him. They had recently come from
the East to visit him, and I remember what a nice-looking couple they were. Mrs. Morris had lovely gray hair and
was dressed so stylishly, in much better clothing than we were used to seeing. Yet she was very simple and gracious
in her manner and was not at all affected as so many Eastern people were. I invited them to come in and wait for the
other members of the family to return from Sunday School. Ed Morris had told his parents we were Mormons, and
the elder Mr. Morris was very eager to learn more about us and our religion.
When the family returned, the Morrises were invited to remain to dinner. This they did. Mother and father
spent a pleasant day conversing with them, telling incidents of pioneer living and explaining our religion to them.
The elder Mr. Morris asked mother if there was an organ in our church. Mother said no, that the Relief Society was
working hard to obtain money enough to buy an organ. Mr. Morris then told mother how he thought she could get
one from Mr. Andrew Carnegie. She replied that she didn't think Mr. Carnegie would pay much attention to a
request from her. Mr. Morris told her to write up a request or petition to Mr. Carnegie and then have the other
women in the ward sign it, along with herself. He would also sign it and send a letter along with it, and he felt sure
they would get their organ. (As I remember, Mr. Ed Morris was a nephew of Andrew Carnegie.)
The petition was written up and signed by mother, Annie R. Egbert, Alice Hochstrasser, Jane
Hochstraasser, Fannie Little, Margaret Edelfsen and perhaps others whom I do not remember. Then it was sent as
directed.
After a long time, mother received a letter telling her to have someone who knew about organs and who
knew about the needs of the Church, select an instrument for them and he [Mr. Carnegie] would send a check to
pay for it. Mother chose Henry Lamreaux, who was quite a musician and who had a small organ he carried about to
play for dances, church, or whatever. Mr. Lamreaux selected an Estey organ, a very fine instrument, and Mr.
Carnegie sent a $500 check to pay for it.
Sometime in 1902 the organ was received. It was sent directly to mother and was to be placed and used
under her personal direction. It was placed in the meeting house, but it was quite a long time before it was formally
turned over to the ward. Many people thought such a fine instrument should be given to the Stake so that more
people could receive benefit from it. Mother said, "No. It was given to the Haden Ward and there it shall remain."