Stupid, other swear words and J. Golden Kimball

Anyone who knows me very well knows I cuss too much. I used to tell myself that I cussed because my dad did, and I just picked it up. More and more I think that I used it as an emphasis point, to get some one's attention and keep it. Throw a cuss word in and they were less likely to blow you off. I try never to take the Lord's name in vain. On the few occasions (I can count of one hand when it has happened) that it occurred, I was immediately shocked that it had come out of my mouth and repented of what I had said.

Some words are not swear words, in my opinion. They are scare words, or attention-getters, like the old joke about an old prospector telling some tenderfoot how to talk to a mule. He said all you have to do is whisper quietly in the mule's ear. The Easterner nods his head in approval. The Prospector then goes up to the mule, and whacks him over the head with a 2x4. The Easterner screams, "What did you do that for? You said you'd whisper to it!"

The old prospector winks and says, "True, but first you gotta get its attention."

It has bothered me when people arbitrarily decide that some words are not allowed to be used. I was working on some stuff in the garage when I missed what I was aiming at, and smacked myself with the hammer. One of my kids was nearby and so I squelched what I was going to say with "Mmmmmmmmmmmaaan! That was stupid!"

My son's mouth opened in a big horror-filled O, and said, "Dad! You swore!"

I quickly replayed the last few seconds in my mind and informed him that I did not swear, that actually I had left out quite a few swear words that I had intended to say.

"When did I swear?"

"You said stupid, and mom says stupid is a swear word."

Well, that just infuriated me. Stupid is not a swear word. It's not even close. It is a state of being for some folks I know, but it is not a swear word. I know where this is coming from, however. In the Bible, it says that a man is not to call his brother racca (or fool). (What if his brother is a fool and the poor guy is just trying to make his brother aware of his situation?) So one of my kids must have called the other stupid, and to simplify things (which only complicates things later) she informed my kids that calling their sibling stupid was swearing. I have no problem explaining to them that they can't call their brother or sister names. However, you can't ban the word from the English language. I often do stupid things. I even feel stupid on some days. Stupid is not a swear word and never will be. I think it was Forrest Gump who said, "Stupid is as stupid does."

Fast-forward ahead a couple of years and I catch my wife telling my kids that the word bastard is a swear word. I listen to the conversation for a couple of minutes and then, when I can no longer stay silent, (It is perhaps my greatest weakness. If I had stayed silent more times, I think I would be wealthier, have more friends and perhaps I would still be married.) I broke in and said that the word bastard was not a swear word.

She turned purple. I have never seen her so mad. She insisted that it was a swear word. I said it wasn't. I agreed that Tyler could not call his sister a bastard (even though she may have deserved it that day). Mostly because it wasn't true. She was not born out of wedlock and consequently wasn't a bastard. I said that I understood why to call someone a bastard is wrong, and not to be done, but you can't take the word out of the dictionary. You can't arbitrarily pick a word and rip the page out. I explained that the word has use in everyday English. I had a flat bastard file in my toolbox. It was labeled as a "flat bastard file" when I bought it. Bastard, in this case, means halfway. Thus, a bastard file is a file that is not a coarse file, nor a fine file, but one halfway between. Some files are called bastard files because they have a course file on one side and a fine side on the other.

In dealing with swords, you have a two-handed sword like a Scottish claymore that is too heavy for anyone other than Arnold Schwarzenegger to wield one-handed. Then you have a long sword, which is wielded with one hand, the other hand usually wielding a shield. Finally, you have a bastard sword, which is sometimes called a hand-and-a-half sword. It is longer than a long sword, but shorter than a claymore. It has a large enough grip that it can be wielded in a two-handed style, but also can be wielded one-handed if the swordsman is strong enough.

I concluded that yes, Tyler could not call his sister using that word, but to remove the word from all use was wrong. That to do so and to remove each word that caused offense was to ensure that eventually, there would be no communication. The English language would cease to exist.

At this point, the extremely purple woman across from me exploded. "You have cut me down in front of my kids, in my home!" she screamed and stomped out of the room and slammed the door. I sat stunned at the dinner table. First, I was almost positive they were my kids as well. Secondly, my point was not to embarrass her, but to make a point that I should have made at least ten years earlier.

Anyway, as you can probably imagine, my favorite General Authority was always J. Golden Kimball. His father was the Apostle Heber C. Kimball, who died when he was 15, leaving him and his family destitute. He left school at that tender age and became a muleskinner to support the family. I'm sure that he picked up his colorful language there. After serving a mission to the southern states, he was called back to the southern states a decade later to be the Mission President and a year later was called as one of the First Council of the Seventy.

As a muleskinner, and later as a cowboy on his ranch in Bear Lake country, he developed a fondness for coffee and struggled with abstaining from coffee the rest of his life.

Here are some of my favorite J. Golden stories. Some might be apocryphal, but most have been documented. If any of you are as squeamish as my wife, you may want to quit reading now. One last thing you should know, he had a high-pitched voice when he spoke, similar to Dudley Do-Right, the cartoon Mountie in the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons.

J. Golden Kimball and some of the Brethren were up in Lymon, Wyoming, where they came to a stream and President Grant suggested they’d better try to find a way around it.

Golden remarked, “Why that’s nothing, I can piss that much.”

President Heber J. Grant said to him, “Brother Kimball, you're out of order!”

J. Golden replied, “Yes, and if I wasn't out of order I could piss more than that!”

J. Golden Kimball

On a tour of the Church's woolen mill, J. Golden Kimball had his long coat snagged in the whirling machinery, which spun him around several times, then threw him to the floor. The young tour guide was aghast as the Church leader lay there silently.

“Brother Kimball,” he said, “Speak to me! Speak to me!”

J. Golden obviously wasn't hurt. “I don't know why I should,” he said. “I passed you twelve times just now, and not once did you speak to me!”

Boyd K. Packer told the story about how someone stopped Elder J. Golden Kimball on the street on one occasion. There had been a little difficulty in Elder Kimball's family that had become publicly known, and whoever it was who stopped him, no doubt with a mind to injure, said, “Brother Kimball, I understand you're having some problems with one of your children.” His answer was, “Yes, and the Lord is having some problems with some of his, too.”

Someone asked J. Golden Kimball his opinion of women wearing cosmetics, which some General Authorities in the early part of the 1900s frowned upon. Golden said, “Well, a little paint never hurt any old barn.”

Hugh B. Brown told of when J. Golden Kimball had come down to the stake where he was presiding. President Brown introduced him as the “Will Rogers” of the Church, and told the congregation that Golden was a great humorist. When he got up he said, “You know, I think the Lord himself likes a joke. If he didn't, he wouldn't have made some of you folks!” 

Once, when attempting to exhort a congregation to keep the commandments better, J. Golden Kimball waved a sheaf of papers at them. “You may have noticed, brothers and sisters, that I keep waving these papers. Well, this is the Lord's shit list, and all your names are on it.”

Another time, when addressing concerns about the behavior of the youth, J. Golden Kimball told the congregation not to worry about the young people: “They'll be all right. It's all these old bald-headed bastards on the front row that you need to look out for.”

Heber J. Grant and J. Golden Kimball were speaking in a stake conference in St. George that was going broadcast live over the air. President Grant was worried the FCC would take away the Church’s license if there were any profanity. In an effort to bring the “swearing elder” into line, LDS Church President Heber J. Grant wrote Golden’s speech and ordered him to read it on the air. After several minutes of stammering while trying to decipher Grant's writing, Golden gave up, announcing into the microphone, “Hell, Heber, I can't read this damn thing.”

He proceeded to abandon the speech and shoot from the hip for the rest of his talk.

Thomas Cheney told the story of an acquaintance who met J. Golden Kimball on the street one day during the conversation asked, “Do you believe that Jonah was swallowed by the whale?”

“When I get to heaven, I'll ask Jonah,” Golden answered.

“But,” said the man, “What if Jonah is not there?”

“Then you will have to ask him,” Golden quickly replied

A Baptist preacher once harassed J. Golden Kimball as a missionary. As he passed the missionaries on the street, the minister yelled out, “Hello, you sons of the devil!” J. Golden shot back, “Hello, father!”

As the story goes, J. Golden Kimball was giving a tour of Salt Lake City to some visiting officials from Britain, which was currently enjoying its position as the world’s biggest superpower. As they passed historic buildings, J. Golden would describe the struggles the early pioneers had to raise them in the desert. 

Salt Lake Temple

“Over there we have our Theater, the largest at the time west of the Mississippi when it was built. It took only four years to build.” 

The officials nodded, admired, and said, “Yes, yes, and I believe it looks much like a theater recently built in London, but ours only took two years.” 

Slightly perturbed, J. Golden pointed out another tall building. “We just completed this building after working on it for a year.” 

The officials nodded politely, and one said to the other, “It reminds me of the recent building raised for the Queen, but we were able to build that one in only six months.”

Finally, very annoyed, J. Golden drove their carriage by the magnificent Salt Lake Temple (which took 40 years to build). The visitors took off their hats and stood up in the carriage. “Wonderful!” they cried. “Magnificent! Mr. Kimball, what building is this?” 

J. Golden, with a hidden smile, looked up at the Temple, a look of shock on his face. He looked back at the men. “Well, hell if I know,” he said, “the damn thing wasn't there yesterday!”

Regarding the Klu Klux Klan, J. Golden Kimball said, “Waste of a good sheet.”

J. Golden Kimball once told a classic story about marriage. He always said that people had to get to know each other as people before they were married. One time a man fell in love with a girl's beautiful singing voice and decided to marry her, without knowing much about her at all. So, they were married, and the very first morning after their marriage the man woke up and looked at his new wife with curlers in her hair, no make-up, looking nothing short of horrible. He looked once, and could not believe he had married that, and then he looked again. On the third look he said, “Sing, for hell's sake, sing!”

He was presiding at a Stake Conference, the day was very warm, and noticed that many of the people were dozing off. When it was his time to speak, he quietly rose to the pulpit, announced that he had some "official business", and proceeded to ask for a show of hands of all those who were in favor of moving Mt. Nebo across the valley. As the people began to raise their hands, he pounced on the moment, slammed his fist into the pulpit and proceeded to berate them both for falling asleep, and for not paying attention to what was going on. It was said that the next 45-minute sermon was one of his best, when he called the members to repentance for their complacency.

Thomas Cheney told another story of when J. Golden was on a trip with Apostle Francis Lyman. They came to Panaca, Nevada. Meetings had begun in the morning and they kept them there all day, and they were fasting. Golden was starved and anxious to go at four o'clock. After four, Elder Lyman said, “Now, Brother Kimball, get up and tell them about the Era.” Elder Lyman had already done a good deal of talking about the Era (a magazine in the early Church).

Golden got up and said, “All you men that will take the Era if we will let you go home, raise your right hand.” There was not a single man who did not raise his hand, subscribed and paid $2 cash for the Era. That afternoon, they added over 400 subscribers. Golden said later, “I do not claim that was inspiration; it was good psychology. Really, they paid $2 to get out."

James Kimball tells how President Grant sent a note to Golden. The note read that there was a member of the stake presidency from Coalville, who had passed away. His wife had requested that Golden speak at the funeral.

Golden didn’t get the note until he returned from a Church assignment in Southern California. The funeral started in an hour, and Coalville was almost two hours away. He hopped in his Model T and drove as fast as he could. When he arrived, the funeral was almost over. The bishop saw Golden walk in. "Brother Kimball, come forward. We’d like to hear from you."

He went up and said, “I’m very happy to be here. I’m sorry I’m late. I want to tell you what a wonderful person this man was. I knew him; I’ve stayed in his home. He was an inspiration to me. He was a good father and he was a good husband. He goes to a great reward.”

As he started to hit his stride, he looked out in the audience. About the eighth row back, there sat the man he thought was dead!

He looked down in the casket and did not recognize the man lying there. Confused, he turned and said, “Say Bishop, who the hell’s dead around here anyway?”

When a nephew asked Brother Kimball if he wanted to hear the latest story about him, he responded, “Hell, no! It seems that all the stories told these days are either about me or Mae West!”

According to his traveling companion to a stake conference in Southern Utah, perhaps Cedar City, J. Golden struggled with living the Word of Wisdom, which was being pushed harder at that time than at any other time during his life.

Whilst in southern Utah to speak at a stake conference, he'd ditched his traveling companion and headed off to a local restaurant for lunch. He was eating -- a cup of coffee at the ready-- when his companion caught up with him.

His horrified and self-righteous companion said, “Why Brother Kimball, I'd rather commit adultery than drink a cup of coffee.”

To which, J. Golden replied, “Who the hell wouldn't?”

Allan Kent Powell documented in J. Golden Kimball’s biography of his feeling that he was called to be an LDS Church general authority (as a member of the First Council of Seventy in 1892) because of his father.

“Some people say a person receives a position in this church through revelation, and others say they get it through inspiration, but I say they get it through relation. If I hadn't been related to Heber C. Kimball, I wouldn't have been a damn thing in this church.”

In another story, J. Golden Kimball was speaking to a gathering of Relief Society sisters, who apparently had raised some questions ad nauseum about eternal marriage and whether they'd be forced to remain married to the bums they'd chosen in the  this life.

Squeaked Kimball, “I don't know about this here eternal marriage business. But it seems to me that if you can't live with the sons-of-bitches on earth, the Lord won't force you to remain with them in heaven.”

The Salt Lake Tribune once wrote how J. Golden Kimball accidentally wandered into a turn-of-the-century republican convention at the Assembly Hall on Temple Square. A staunch Democrat, J. Golden was mortified.

LDS Apostle and Republican Senator Reed Smoot beckoned him forward, saying, “We are glad that Brother Kimball has come to his senses, and we'd like him to say the opening prayer.”

“Oh, I don't think so, Reed,” J. Golden replied. “I'd just as soon the Lord didn't know I was here.”

When he heard that President Grant was changing the emphasis in the Church and making the Word of Wisdom a matter of enforcement, his diary states that J. Golden Kimball went to the president, saying, “Hell, Heber, what are you doin’? You know my problem with this.” President Grant reportedly said, “Well, Golden, just do the best you can.”

Later on in life, Uncle Golden said, “Well, I've almost got the problem licked. I'm eighty now, and in a few more years, I think I'll have it completely under control.”

J. Golden Kimball sometimes said, “If it weren't for my nephew, Ranch Kimball, it would be a lot easier for me to overcome this habit of drinking coffee… every now and then, and on a nice day, we drive all the way up City Creek Canyon, way up to the top. Nobody's there; we're just by ourselves, and on a beautiful day we'll park and Ranch will put a pot of coffee on. When it perks, he'll pour out two tin cups full, and we'll sit there, drink coffee, and reminisce…

I remember one day Ranch turned to me and said, ‘Uncle Golden, does this bother you sitting up here and drinking coffee with me and being a General Authority?’ and I said to him, ‘Hell no.’

And he said, ‘Why not?’ and I said, ‘It’s simple, Ranch. The eighty-ninth section doesn't apply at this altitude.’”

An incident took place in Keely’s Restaurant, and old diner in downtown Salt Lake frequented by Uncle Golden. Golden walked in and ordered a cup of coffee. They brought it to him and he went to a back booth to sip it. While he was sitting enjoying his drink, a woman came by on her way to the ladies room. She stopped, came back and peered closely at Golden.

“Aren’t you J. Golden Kimball of the First Council of the Seventy?” She probed, “And isn’t that coffee you’re drinking?”

He looked at her for a moment and said, “Sister, you’re the third woman today to mistake me for that old son-of-a-bitch!”

“What can God do for a liar who refuses to repent? Can the Lord save him? He can’t claim salvation. Baptizing him in water will not settle the trouble, unless you keep him under.” 

I think this is my favorite J. Golden Kimball quote: “I may not always walk the straight and narrow, but I sure in hell try to cross it as often as I can.”

J. Golden Kimball was travelling to a conference with new DSSU superintendent David O. McKay (who would in 1951 become the prophet) one winter day. Finally, about 8:00 in the morning, they got to Brigham City. It was cold, and Uncle Golden was frozen right to the bone… He turned to Brother McKay and said, “Why don't we go over and have a little breakfast; we've got an hour, and it's not fast Sunday.” Brother McKay thought it was a marvelous idea.

When they went into the restaurant, no one else was there. The waitress came up to their table and said, “What could I get for you two gentlemen?” According to Uncle Golden, Brother McKay blurted out, “Well, we'll have some ham and eggs and two cups of hot chocolate, please.” Uncle Golden almost died; this wasn't what he had in mind at all.

However, after a few minutes, an idea came to him. He excused himself, saying he needed to go to the men's room. Golden then walked back into the kitchen, grabbed the waitress and said, “Say, would you mind putting a little coffee in my hot chocolate, please?” She said no, she wouldn't mind at all; they did that kind of thing all the time up in Brigham City.

Golden washed his hands, went back to the table and sat down. In a few minutes, the waitress came with the ham and eggs and the hot chocolate. When she got up to the table, she looked at both men and said, “Now, which one of you wanted coffee in his hot chocolate?” Flustered, Uncle Golden looked at her and said, “Ah, hell, put it in both of them.”

Brother McKay laughed uncontrollably.

To Golden’s chagrin, young Brother McKay told everybody the story at the conference. And kept telling the story ever time he spoke.

“I wish he’d keep his damn mouth shut,” he reportedly groused, “Maybe Heber will release him and we won’t hear any more about him!”

One winter J. Golden Kimball was walking on the street in a snowstorm and a woman slipped, knocked him down and ended up on top of him, and they rode down the street with this large woman on his back. When they skidded to a stop at the curb, Golden said to the woman, “Sorry ma'am, this is as far as I go.”

J. Golden Kimball

One day J. Golden Kimball went into ZCMI to buy a suit. It is important to remember how very tall (6’4”) and thin (145 lbs) he was. He walked into the men’s clothing department and rifled through the racks, looking at suits.

A sales clerk came up and said, “May I help you, sir?”

Golden said, “Yes I would like to see a suit that would fit me.”

The sales clerk made a quick appraisal of Golden’s scrawny frame and responded, “Hell, so would I.”

They both laughed uproariously.

J. Golden Kimball went in to buy a new Stetson hat at ZCMI. An old cowboy, he loved Stetson hats. He walked up to the counter and said, “I’d like to look at that Stetson hat right over there. I’ve had my eye on it for several weeks.”

The sales clerk brought it over, dusted it off and said, “This is our very best Stetson.”

Uncle Golden said, “Well, how much is it?”

“Sixty-five dollars.”

“Sixty-five dollars!” Golden exclaimed. He looked the hat over critically and said, “Where are the holes?”

“Holes?” the man asked, puzzled, “There are no holes in Stetson hats. Why would they have holes?”

“For the ears of the jackass that would pay $65 for a hat!”

A stake president took Uncle Golden aside down in Salina, and said, “Brother Kimball, you’ve got to talk to the youth. I can’t send them on missions, they’re swearing too much!”

Golden wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “You want me to talk to them?” The stake president explained that they might listen to someone who spoke their language, so to speak.

So Golden gathered them all together and said, “I understand you brethren are not going to be called on missions unless you can give up your swearing. You can do it. Hell, I did.”

President Grant sent J. Golden Kimball to a stake conference in Wyoming and while there, Golden said that the women there were the homeliest women in the Church. Heber J. Grant sent him back to apologize, and he went back the next week and said, “I’m sorry you have the ugliest women in the church.”

On one occasion, J. Golden Kimball was attending a stake conference in St. George and it was a long meeting and very hot, about 118 degrees Fahrenheit. He was the last to speak and looking out on the perspiring congregation he remarked, “I don't know how the people of St. George can stand the heat, the Indians, the snakes and the flooding Virgin River. I believe if I had a house in Hell and a house in St. George, I'd rent out the one in St. George and move straight to Hell. I really would.”

When directed by President Grant to go back and apologize for his remarks, he returned said, “My brothers and sisters, the president of the Church has asked that I take back my intemperate remarks about the heat you experience here, but it’s so damn hot today, I ain’t gonna do it!”

In Brigham City, he admonished the church members, “This city looks like hell. You need to clean things up. Mow the grass. Paint your houses and barns. And you sisters, you could stand a little paint yourselves.”

In his last years J. Golden Kimball met a friend in the street who said to him, “How are you, Golden? How are you getting along?”

“Well, to tell the truth, I'm not doing so good. Getting old and tired. You know, Seth, I've been preaching this gospel nigh onto sixty years now, and I think it's about time for me to get over on the other side to find out how much of what I've been saying is true.”

“A sermon should be like a woman’s dress. Long enough to cover the essentials, but short enough to keep your attention.”

One of the Brethren said to J. Golden Kimball, “When you die, there will never be another like you in the church.” Uncle Golden replied, “Yes and I am sure this is a great comfort to you.”

Once, J. Golden Kimball accompanied a train full of General Authorities to create the first stake in Denver, Colorado. On the return journey, he was very ill with the flu. When he boarded the train, he said he just wanted to go to bed. However, President Grant insisted, “Oh, Golden, come down and join us for dinner.”

The waiter came to Uncle Golden and asked what he would like to order. “Nothing for me. I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

The waiter said, “Sir, I know how to lick the flu. I get a big, tall glass and I fill it halfway with whiskey and the rest with coffee. You drink that down, go back to your berth and sleep through the night. When we get to Salt Lake tomorrow morning, you’ll feel just fine.”

There was a deathly silence in the diner. President Grant and all the brethren waited anxiously for Golden’s response. He looked around at everyone and loudly said, “I’ll have to pass on that, brother, that’s very kind of you, but I’ll have to pass.”

The waiter moved on. He was just about to go through the swinging door to the kitchen when Golden stood up and yelled, “Oh, waiter, waiter! About that drink, you suggested… You couldn’t make that half Postum, could you?”

I think that this is the truth behind J. Golden Kimball. Unlike his addiction to coffee, his use of profanity had a purpose:

One of the Brethren once said, “Brother Kimball, why do you use so many ‘damns’ and ‘hells’ in your sermons?”

“Well, if I didn’t use a good hard ‘damn’ once in a while, they wouldn’t pay any more attention to what I say, than they do to what you say.”

James Arrington, while researching J. Golden Kimball's life, was visiting a friend who was private secretary to President N. Eldon Tanner. He mentioned the project to his friend, who insisted they go in and tell President Tanner about it. 

Tanner listened as Arrington explained how the project was going and then as he was about to leave, asked him, “What do you get when you cross J. Golden Kimball with Spencer W. Kimball?” 

“Do it, damn it!”

I have to close with my favorite J. Golden joke. 

In 1938, at the age of 85, J. Golden Kimball died in a car accident out in the desert in Nevada when the car he was travelling in hit the ditch and he was thrown from the car.

As he arrived at the pearly gates, Saint Peter said, “Well, Brother Golden, at last we got you here!”

“Yeah, but by hell, you had to kill me to do it!”