*NOTE: I’ve edited and rewritten parts of the 26-blog “Part 19” series. I have presently broken this rewritten and reposted series into two different parts consisting of 13 blogs each. (“Part 19: A–M” was recently posted.)

This blog, “Part 19: N–Z,” is the second half of the 26-blog series “Part 19: A–Z.” (Also, I’ve individually posted each blog in this grouped series of 26 blogs.)
As always, looking forward to your feedback. ~ Stephany

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My Memoir, Part 19-N:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer
And More Perils of Polygamy

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From left to right: My Uncle Ervil Morrell LeBaron, My father Floyd Otto Spencer, My mother Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer, and my husband William Preston Tucker/ AKA: Bill

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The Virginity

Try as he will, no man breaks wholly loose
From his first love, no matter who she be.
Oh, was there ever sailor free to choose,
That didn’t settle somewhere near the sea?

Myself, it don’t excite me nor amuse
To watch a pack o’ shipping on the sea;
But I can understand my neighbour‘s views
From certain things which have occurred to me.

Men must keep touch with things they used to use
 To earn their living, even when they are free;
And so come back upon the least excuse —
Same as the sailor settled near the sea.

He knows he’s never going on no cruise —
  He knows he’s done and finished with the sea;
And yet he likes to feel she’s there to use —
 If he should ask her — as she used to be.

Even though she cost him all he had to lose,
 Even though she made him sick to hear or see,
Still, what she left of him will mostly choose
Her skirts to sit by. How comes such to be?

Parsons in pulpits, tax-payers in pews,
Kings on your thrones, you know as well as me,
We’ve only one virginity to lose,
 And where we lost it there our hearts will be!

Rudyard Kipling

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I left off saying in “My Memoir: Part 19-M — Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer and More Perils of Polygamy” that once I was married off as an adolescent into Bill’s polygamous household, I desperately needed my parent’s love, advice, and support. Was so lonely for my family. But I was not allowed to visit them.

This tripled the loneliness I felt as a 16-year-old newlywed married to a man ten years my senior with whom I was so in love but who was usually vacant in my life and even less often in my bed. When Bill wasn’t with his other two wives or someone else, he was with my Uncle Ervil … or some other man?

Having more than one wife and more than one household assures a polygamist his wives can’t usually keep tabs on whom he is with or where he is when he’s not with them — just one advantage to polygamy — especially if the husband is a rover living a double life — like Bill.

To make matters worse, it was as though Bill and Ervil were joined at the hip. If they weren’t together writing religious pamphlets, or on a “missionary trip,” or visiting, preaching to cult members and investigators, they found other “urgent” reasons to “get out of Dodge,” dodge the bullets and be together — all in the name of “doing church business” and “building up the kingdom of God.”

Ervil was like one of Bill’s wives.* As I said, the two were attached at the hips “doing missionary work”* — sharing the same bed when out of town.

And remember, these two polygamists were used to having sex at least once every night, and possibly during the morning or daytime too, given their many wives (and boyfriends?).

So I can only wonder what went on “undercover” when they were suddenly without their habitual sexual partners.

Given the above circumstances, and their belief that masturbation was a mortal sin, imagine how “hard UP” (pun intended) these Mormon fundamentalist “Saints” were for sex during their days and sometimes weeks of being away from home “Doing the Lord’s work” to convert new recruits; so as to bring more tithing money into the church coffers — money that mostly ended up in Ervil’s and Bill’s back pockets to support themselves and their humongous families.

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• After Bill left Joel and Ervil’s “Church,” Ervil took Dan Jordan “on” as his right-hand man. My Aunt Delfina, Ervil’s first wife, said Dan was Ervil’s “wife” because he spent more time with Dan than with his wives!

*”Doing missionary work” was the common catchphrase and smokescreen that covered up and justified everything in the cult. It made sinners look like saints in the eyes of the “true believers.” (But I know now not to believe everything I see or am told!)

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Excellent expose by renowned speaker and Author of “Combatting Cult Mind Control;” and leader in recognizing brainwashing tactics — and much more!

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My Memoir, Part 19-O:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And More Perils of Polygamy

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“Leaders who win the respect of others
are the ones who deliver more than they promise,
not the ones who promise more than they can deliver.”
Mark A. Clement

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Taking up where I left off in my blog “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer 
And More Perils of Polygamy
Part 19-N”:

It seems I got off onto a little bunny trail a few blogs back. It’s high time we backtrack — get back to where Uncle Ervil and my parents were manipulating my love-life in the name of polygamy to get me married off to “Billy” …

Back to where, in July of 1963, my sixteen-year-old-self was in the process of being pawned off in a prearranged marriage to ten-years-my-senior William Preston Tucker — leader of the infamous French missionaries excommunicated from the LDS/ Mormon church around 1958.

Since Uncle Ervil wasn’t able to do anything about his sister/my mom throwing a jackhammer into his plans to trade me to Homer Babbitt for land, Ervil manipulated another of his nieces into marrying Babbitt in my place.

Yes, smooth-talking, scrupleless Uncle Ervil soon had one of his brother Wesley’s daughters, my red-haired sixteen-year-old cousin Jenny Lou LeBaron married to Homer. Poor Jenny! At the time, she was only visiting the LeBaron colony. But visiting the LeBaron colony was dangerous. She ended up homesteading as forty-three-year-old Babbitt’s polygamous bride. Her parents weren’t by her side to protect her from her uncle Ervil’s revelations and manipulations!

My parents “protected” me by betraying me! They had raised me to believe I could trust them impeccably because they were Saints. No, they were frauds. For years, they regularly snuck into and read my private diaries unbeknownst to me. Then discussed among themselves my thoughts and business meant for my eyes only. (I found this out many years after-the-fact.)

So they not only knew every personal thought that went on in my adolescent brain (No wonder they had become so down on me!), but also, inadvertently, during their daily entertainment, learned of Ervil’s devious plans to marry me to Homer Babbitt behind their backs!

That’s how my parents got the bright/”bride” idea to turn around, themselves, and manipulate my love-life and who I was to marry! They boggled Ervil’s plans to barter me to Babbit by replacing them with their own plans to barter me to Bill.

After all, I had written in my journal, “Bill Tucker is the man I’m in love with, not Homer!” There was a selfish method to my parents’ madness:

It brought far more prestige to them to have me married to Bill rather than to Babbitt. I don’t know which was worse for me in the end! (I was so in love with Bill, but he shattered ‘n’ battered me. Bashful Babbitt would’ve built me up, appreciated, and loved me.)

Since Jenny’s parents weren’t around to snoop into her diaries, Ervil won the second time around. He got Jenny married to Homer in a heartbeat. Then set to work to convince his bosom-buddy Billy to comply with my parents’ wishes that he marry me.

(Ervil had quickly seen how Bill’s marrying me would work for him. For one thing, Homer wouldn’t wonder why I hadn’t ended up marrying him after all Ervil’s wheelings and dealings to have him marry me!)

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My Memoir: Part 19-P:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
More Perils of Polygamy

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“As I sifted through my memories,
my life came to me in bits and pieces,
often disconnected, just like my dreams.
Even normal memory has gaps,
but traumatic memory is even more discontinuous.
This is my story, which put me back together.”
Lost Boy
Brent W. Jeffs
2009

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Continuing where I left off  in “My Memoir:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer
And More Perils of Polygamy
Part 19-O”:

As I said previously, my sixteen-year-old first cousin Jenny Lou LeBaron’s parents weren’t around to snoop into her private diaries. So my uncle Ervil LeBaron won the second time around in his efforts to get Homer Babbitt a child bride in exchange for a parcel of his land.

After getting Jenny married to Homer, he set to work to convince his bosom-buddy Billy to follow through with marrying me — the way my parents wanted him to.

Let’s back up a bit. At first, Ervil (one of Mother’s younger brothers) didn’t know what hit when he found I was suddenly being given away to Billy! Like how was he, Ervil, going to explain to Homer that, despite the revelations he got that I was supposed to marry him, Homer, his sister Esther (my mother) had her own “revelation” I was supposed to marry Billy/William Preston Tucker?

But, Ervil, as usual, wormed out of his having promised me to Homer by coming up with a new revelation for Homer as to whom he was to marry when the first “revelation” fell through.

Nonetheless, “Evil ErVILE” was blindsided in his own shenanigans and misuse of power because he had no idea my parents knew about his secret attempt to marry me off to Homer Babbitt behind their back! I had no idea my parents knew about it either. I found that out far down the line — after I was already Bill’s concubine.

So, despite Ervil’s efforts to keep “the adversary” (the devil) from finding out about his plans, lo and behold, “the adversary” — in the name of my parents — did find out about the self-proclaimed-profit Ervil’s latest priestcraft — in a most unexpected way.

But Mother, with Daddy’s help, had me convinced it was “through a dream — a revelation” she “came to know” I was supposed to marry Bill Tucker!

As I mentioned in a previous blog, I had not told my parents what Uncle Ervil LeBaron (The Second Grand Head in the Priesthood of the LeBaron cult) was directing me to do, because Uncle Ervil, who practically stood as God to the people, had told me, “God doesn’t want your parents to know till you’re ALREADY married to Homer.”

“Let’s keep this a secret between me, you, and Homer,” Uncle Ervil had adamantly whispered to me. “We don’t want “the adversary” to get wind of what’s going on here and try to stop God’s work — God’s desire you marry Homer to help build up His kingdom on earth.” (Replace “God” with “Ervil.”)

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Part 19-Q:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And More Perils of Polygamy

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Could This be Bill with his first two wives,
“horny toads” in a menage a trois?
Sex, drugs, ‘n’ “rock ‘n’ roll“… Rock on!

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“The truth told with love and consideration is the key.
An honest account of what you experienced
is what memoir is all about.”
Rita Keeley Brown

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Continued from:
“My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And More Perils of Polygamy
Part 19-P”

Getting back to my being in the throes of “The First Grand Head” of the cult, my uncle Ervil LeBaron and his having a jackhammer thrown into his “perfect“ plans to marry me off to his pal, Homer (behind my parents’ back) let me give you a little pertinent backstory:

Mother and her siblings, including Ervil, had grown up with Homer Babbitt in the Mormon colonies in Colonia Juarez, Mexico. Timid blond-haired, blue-eyed Homer was around Momma’s age; that is, 26 years older than I. Extremely shy, unassuming, and quiet, he blushed often, highlighting his already red pockmarked face and neck deeply scarred from acne and boils. Sadly, the name “Homer” (Homely) fit him.

But he was a sweet, sensitive, kind, conscientious, considerate gentleman — with money. Quite rare in my neck of the woods. Barely converted from the LDS church to the LeBaron cult and polygamy, Homer was, in marrying me as his plural wife, trying to please both God and his childhood Mormon pal Ervil.

Even so, as I partly related earlier, my parents got busy post haste to covertly thwart Ervil’s plans to barter me off to Babbitt, by going to Bill, behind my back, and exclaiming, “If you want to marry Beulah, right now is your chance. Tomorrow will be too late!” 

But Bill, always the diplomat, countered with, “Beulah is too young. I need to wait a couple more years. I don’t have money to support another wife right now. Can’t even afford to take her on a honeymoon.”

He was REALLY hedging! Mormon fundamentalist Men usually did not take their plural wives on a honeymoon! There was enough trouble in Bedlam (Plyg Town) without them honeymooning each new plural wife. Furthermore, most polygamists couldn’t afford their first wife and her herd of up to possibly twenty-six kids, let alone a honeymoon for each new wife added to the harem.

And new wives meant ultimately even more kids–more expense and time: Each new wife stretched further and further the husband and father from his time and money. In the end, it was mostly the wives and children left to bear the brunt of this hapless, mindless lifestyle.

But true-believing, brainwashed Daddy nevertheless bribed Bill: “How’s about I help you out? I’ll give you some money … more than enough to take my favorite daughter on a honeymoon for a week. How’d that be?“

That money sounded good to penniless-pauper Bill. He had to rely too much on the purse strings of his first wife Marilyn (Her parents  sent her money regularly from “The States”) in order to keep his family afloat in the LeBaron colony while he worked to get his chicken business off the ground, including a chicken packing plant for “pollos”/friers.

But wouldn’t you know, it was Ervil finding out about my parents trying to arrange my marriage to Bill that cemented the deal. More on “the deal” in the next blog.

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My Memoirs: Part 19-R:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And More Perils of Polygamy:
My Honeymoon

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“We all come from the past,
and children ought to know what it was
that went into their making.”
Russell Baker

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I had never traveled much past my own backyard, especially once we moved, when I was fourteen, to Chihuahua, Mexico to join the secluded wilderness LeBaron cult — “Zion.”

But when I was married off to twenty-six-year-old Bill Tucker in an arranged marriage (as I said in the last blog) Daddy gave Bill money to take me to Chihuahua City for a week’s Honeymoon.

 I’m so touched Daddy did that because he was not well to do and was often mean to me, besides. But it seems he cared enough to twist Bill’s arm to take me on a Honeymoon — or desperately wanted to get me off his hands!

It is more likely Daddy gave him the money in an effort to set up a little better deal for Bill, at the start of our marriage, because he felt guilty about having pawned me off onto Bill and his harem when Daddy knew Bill was out of work and couldn’t afford to support the two wives and five children he already had!

Needless to say, Bill felt obligated to take me on a honeymoon. But he didn’t feel obligated to spend any of the money on me. And he didn’t! While in Chihuahua City, on our honeymoon, he took ME shopping to spend $ on his first wife Marilyn — money Daddy meant to be spent to help me get started in my new home because Bill said he couldn’t afford me!

Though, as a newlywedded teenager, I needed so many things to set up my new household, my new husband spent not a penny on me — other than for cheap lodgings for the both of us, restaurant meals he gobbled down, and gas for our automobile trip — a trip that (I realized years later), was mainly a business and pleasure trip for him:

 He met with boyfriends and with companies he was dealing with to get them to buy his fryers/pollos when they were ready to be beheaded, defeathered, and marketed.

When I married Bill, he and his two wives were in the process of starting a chicken business that would include a chicken-packing plant. Money to get the family business going would be mostly supplied by his first wife Marilyn’s dowery.

I realize now, Bill, having so recently come upon a little money of his own by way of my father, wanted to ingratiate himself with his jealous 31-year-old Marilyn (She was about five years older than he, 15 years older than I) for having taken me on as a third wife against her will — though she was largely financing his family and their upstart chicken business!!

Can you imagine how it hurt 16-year-old-child-bride me (who knew nothing about his family) to be left alone for an hour standing on the sidelines of my own Honeymoon watching the man I loved lovingly look for and pick out a costly gift for his first wife’s upcoming thirty-second birthday — while totally ignoring me?

 It wasn’t fun!
Welcome to Polygamy 101,
And the “Big Love” idea:
“Love-times-three.”
He bought “nada”
For new-homemaker-me,
Plural wife #3.

Take a hint: Polygamy
Is a bunch of bull-pucky!
Don’t believe me?
Try it and see.

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Part 19-S:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And More Perils of Polygamy: 
My Honeymoon

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“And we are put on this earth a little space
that we might learn to bear the beams of love”
― William Blake

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I left off in “My Memoir: Part 19-R, Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And More Perils of Polygamy: My Honeymoon,“ saying:

It hurt SO to be left out in the cold on my own honeymoon as I stood in the background watching the foreground where the man I just married neglected me to lovingly look for and pick out an extravagant gift for his “old” wife Marilyn’s upcoming 32nd birthday.

He not only ignored me. He bought me “nada.” No fun! Welcome to Polygamy 101.

I learned later that jealous Marilyn, about fifteen years my senior, was exceedingly upset Bill married me; despite her ardent protests! Then he added kerosene to the coals: He took me (once again despite her’s and the SECOND wife’s avid protests) on a Honeymoon to Chihuahua City, a-few-hours drive away.

Taking me on a honeymoon for a week must’ve left narcissistic Billy feeling a little queasy: His first wife Marilyn and his favorite wife Lolita were home alone and horny; grieving his honeymooning and spooning child-bride me.

Was he showing them they were not enough? Or that I was too good a package to pass up? Bill could always pass his actions off onto: “Polygamy –“The Law of Plural Marriage” –comes first and foremost … above all else!”

Mormon fundamentalists believe building up the kingdom of God is all that matters. More wives means bringing more little spirits into good Mormon fundamentalist homes to build God’s work and combat Satan’s efforts to overcome Him.

Because Marilyn held and CONTROLLED the family purse strings, Bill wanted to make strides with her. So, though it was my honeymoon, he bought her an extravagant present on my time that actually came from his own money — the money Daddy gave him for me!

I was rudely learning that all this was par for the course in polygamous marriages. I wasn’t his only love and consideration nor concern. I had to share him — even on my honeymoon.

To top it off, the second day there, without warning, Bill heartlessly left me alone out in the car on the street for five hours with nothing to do!! Not even a radio to listen to — sans warning that he would be gone anywhere nearly so long — while he “did business and missionary work” (in the missionary position?) with a buddy or two:

“I can’t have you at the meeting. These men have met Marilyn. Can’t let them know I have more than one wife,“ was his easy way out.

Next: Despite his promised seven-day Honeymoon, about five days in, he suddenly told me, again without my having any say in it:
“We’re going home now. Need to cut our Honeymoon short. Must get back home to take care of business.”

I think he mostly missed and was worried about his other two wives, was bored with me, wasn’t in love with me, and didn’t value freebie-me much … let alone care how I felt. What do you think?

We returned home within five days of what turned out to be, all-in-all, a stressful, rather uneventful honeymoon — except (brace yourself) lying in the lap of my sexy husband as he steered the vehicle toward home, I had my way with him. We are lucky Bill didn’t lose his way at the wheel as he came — and I lived to tell the story!

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NOTE:
If you wonder what Mormon fundamentalist cults believe, how they are brainwashed, and why members don’t often leave — aren’t able to escape these clans — listen to the following YouTube interviews:

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Part 19-T:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And More Perils of Polygamy: 
My Honeymoon 

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“The sharing of stories
broadens our outlook on life.
People identify with and draw strength
from reading about the struggles of others.
Readers can ‘try on’ the life
of the character/s in the story
and see how they would have felt
and reacted,
without having to suffer
through the experience themselves.
They ‘become’ that protagonist,
that main character,
as they step into his shoes
and walk through the difficulties he faces.”
Rita Keeley Brown 

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Continued from:
“My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer
and More Perils of Polygamy:
My Honeymoon 
Part 19-S”

I left off in the last blog saying Bill promised me a seven-day Honeymoon; however, 4 1/2 days in he informed me: “We’re going home now. Need to cut this Honeymoon short … get back to take care of business.”

Apparently, having taken care of “business” with his buddies/boyfriends in Chihuahua City, there was little enticement to remain away from his two grieving, furiously jealous wives conniving at home as to how they could best work in cahoots to deal with Bill and me. (And deal they did!)

While Bill’s old black Cadillac rocked, rattled, ‘n’ rolled, as it sped toward our homestead Colonia LeBaron, I lay in my lover’s lap and “had my way with him” — ever so lucky my husband didn’t lose control of the wheel as he came.

Adolescent me, who didn’t drive, didn’t see how close we “came” to diving over the cliff to Dover-heaven in sexual oblivion!

The car swerved back-and-forth, skidding dangerously a few times. But determined Billy managed to muster all he had to keep his Cad on the road while he exploded in ecstasy!

My, what a man — what I cad! But the Angels must’ve been watching over us (How embarrassing!) where angels fear to tread. Thereafter, tread marks left on the highway were all that remained to tell the tale of our ecstatic, erratic, “wreckless” ride.

Other than that, it was, for me, a pretty blissful but stressful and uneventful five-day honeymoon with hubby — except for some luscious restaurant meals, visiting Chihuahua City’s Museum of Art and other such — including Mexico’s Robin Hood and Mexican-war-hero Pancho Villa’s museum home. His elderly wife still lived there and lead us on the tour.

We then saw the hit movie, “El Sid.” I had seen so few movies in my life (maybe two or three?) I had to keep asking Bill what was said and what was going on.

And, did I mention the mosquitoes buzzing in, out, and all about as we slept, biting me on both eyelids just in time for our Honeymoon photos?

You shall hear, I fear, in my upcoming book, more about Bill’s and my Honeymoon — my initiation “into” Bill’s harem — and he into me. I promise! Can hardly wait to tell you this “herstory-history.”

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Part 19-U:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low

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“A memoir is your perception of your experience of
your involvement in a particular situation in your life.
It is not your sister’s, it is not your father’s, or anyone else’s.
There will always be someone who will say,
‘That’s not how I remember it.’ ” 
Rita  Keeley Brown

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Taking up where we left off in:
“My Memoir:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —
 And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low,
Part 19-T”:

My third trip in the five-and-a-half years since my family moved to Colonia LeBaron, Chihuahua, Mexico in 1960–including my honeymoon–was once again back to Chihuahua City, Mexico when I was nineteen. It happened only because I approached Bill pleading:

“Please! Since Daddy just died and I’m grieving, shouldn’t I be the one to go on this trip with you? You’ve taken the other two wives on lots of trips; yet, have never taken me anywhere except to Chihuahua on our honeymoon.”

Bill relented. But it was only a one-day-one-night business trip with him and one of his buddies, Bruce Wakeham, who drove us there and back in the cab of his bouncing gray pickup truck — the three of us crammed together like sardines, Bill between Bruce and me.

Just because Bill took me on what I thought would be a romantic trip where we might finally do some special bonding, it didn’t mean he had to make love to me that night or even talk to me … or anything else. And he didn’t!

He barely tolerated me. Once at the Wakeham’s home, he ignored me altogether and, without a kiss or a goodbye, took off with Bruce, leaving me behind with Bruce’s first wife Juna. Tears!!

That night, when we went to bed, more tears and disappointment: Bill rolled over and turned his back on me, refusing my attempts to make love.

Knowing what I know now about Bill and his buddies, I suspect Bill didn’t do his usual three-minute screw, then fall asleep on me, when it was my night to be with him–though he loved how well he fit in me–because he was afraid Bruce would know … even though we were in bed, undercover, in the dead of night.

Was he afraid Bruce would be jealous? There were no curtains on the bedroom windows if you can believe it! But either way you “peek” at it, I was screwed — screwed over big-time by two-timing big-Plyg Billy! You’ll see more of what I mean in my next blog.

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Part 19-V:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low

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“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories.
If people wanted you to write warmly about them,
they should’ve behaved better.”
Anne Lamott,
“Bird by Bird”

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I left off in “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low, Part 19-U” remarking that when my husband Bill Tucker and I went to bed, our one night we spent in Chihuahua City, I suffered the usual tears and disappointments of my concubinage with this man I’d experienced since the day I married him at age sixteen — two-and-a-half years earlier.

This time the suffering was because I expected a loving, supportive, special trip, and to be all alone without the other two wives around so that finally Bill might bestow on me some special warmth.

But even when I was alone in bed with him, he didn’t show any love toward me, let alone some sympathy for my father having just died!

Instead, he hadn’t given me any attention during the whole twenty-four-hour trip; now he simply rolled over, turned his back on me, and refused my attempts to make love.

Was this hot-blooded sex-fiend punishing me for asking to go on a trip with him, though this night would have been another wife’s turn-– and his taking me on this trip was causing his other two wives further grief and jealousy…which meant more trouble for him when he got home? 

That never mattered when he took his other two wives on trips when it was my turn to spend the night with him!

Knowing what I know now about Bill and his buddies, I suspect Bill — though he loved how well he fit in me — didn’t do his usual three-minute screw, like he always did when it was my night to be with him (which was every third night, if he was in town) then fall asleep on top of me — his stocky, overweight body crushing my petite frame — because he was afraid Bruce would know — even though we were undercover, in bed; in the dead of night!

I say this based on a trip I managed to go on with Bill to Guadalajara, Mexico in 1964, about a year earlier. I was barely eighteen then. There I witnessed, in a roundabout way, Billy and his buddy Stephen do this very thing I described above. It took place at Mariachi Square, famous the world over among homosexuals–at least back then–as a gathering place.

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Part 19-W:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —
And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low

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William Preston Tucker and his buddy Stephen 

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People see what they want to see —
Don’t see
what they don’t want to see —
till they want to see.
Stephany Spencer

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Taking up where we left off in:
 “My Memoir:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —
 And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low
Part 19-V”:

Being a poorly educated, adolescent eighteen-year-old, poorly educated, brainwashed, backward, duped, and dumb, I had no idea what the hell was going on when, while visiting Guadalajara, Mexico in 1964 with my twenty-eight-year-old handsome husband Billy Tucker, I unwittingly witnessed him and his horn-rimmed buddy Stephen Silver making “a connection” — a hit — at the Mariachi Square — famous the world over as a gathering place for homosexual men … I learned years later.

Back then I believed on-the-down-low Bill’s bull when he told me he and his pal Steve would be out late “doing missionary work.” (In the missionary position?)

Later that night, I didn’t see them in action. I heard them in action — After Bill had left me at Stephen Silver’s home with Stephen’s two wives (one of them my sister) so he could, as he told me, “go back and rescue Stephen from the hotbed of bad influences at Mariachi Square.“

At the time, I was “asleep…couldn’t hear” when it came to being in the dark about Bill’s double/down-low life. He knew he could count on that:

Homosexuality was in my blind spot. I didn’t even know the word existed, let alone what it meant — let alone that my own “saintly” Mormon husband and his best “buddy” — his old French missionary pal — were “one” … frauds!

They had spent two years as missionary partners in the Mormon French mission field in the mid to late 1950s, when they were at their sexual prime — around nineteen to twenty-one years old — sharing the same bed or bunk! (Not sure which one was “on top.”)

Now wise, I realize those passionate sounds and other activities witnessed on that “trip” weren’t “doing missionary work:” 

Bill and Stephen brought home with them that night at least one of the gay guys they connected with at Guadalajara, Mexico’s Mariachi Square.

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Part 19-X:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — 
And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low

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 Online Chat Notes Denote NPD:
Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Said one woman: 
“You know, it’s so funny!
I used to think my Ex was the most
kind, loving, good-hearted man I ever met.
I used to think he was such a treasure
and that I didn’t deserve him.

When I found out about narcissism,
and started putting the pieces together,
my brain did an about-face …
I’m now in a better place, thank God!

Now I know that I’m dealing with an NPD ….
So sad though … It makes me weep.
They are masters at trying to make you feel like crap.
However, I figured out how to checkmate these A-holes,
in the future, since I have a knack for
attracting such relationships.”

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I left off in the last blog:
“My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer
And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low
Part 19-W,” remarking:

Much older and wiser now, I realize the weird things I witnessed on that Guadalajara, Mexico “trip” weren’t doing missionary work: My twenty-eight-year-old Mormon fundamentalist husband William Preston Tucker and his best buddy/lover Stephen Silver had brought home with them at least one gay guy they connected with at Mariachi Square that night.

Believing my idol Bill was on a pedestal — a total Mormon saint– my eighteen-year-old innocent, trusting self figured the noises wafting up from down below were Bill and his buddy trying with all their might to “get it up” … I mean, to put across the Scriptures to someone they had met while at Mariachi Square doing missionary work.

I thought they were working so “HARD” to put across the gospel concepts of Mormon fundamentalism and my uncle Joel’s “Church” — the only true church on earth — that strained noises would somehow escape!

BUT That’s exactly what Bill and Steve knew their naïve women would believe. Doing missionary work was ever the cover for everything undercover in the cult.

When Bill came to bed around 3 AM that night, I approached my “HARD”-working husband to make love only to find him oddly drenched with sweat… and exhausted!

It seemed so strange but I figured it was due to his strenuous efforts to preach the gospel to the new contact. So I only admired my husband all the more for his hard work!

I didn’t question because I didn’t know enough to question. I was so sure Bill was the perfect emblem of virtuousness and virtuosity– That was the image he pretentiously portrayed. Bill was the LeBaron cult’s idol: He could do no wrong … so we thought… and so many of them still think to this day.

What amazes me now is, despite the intense sexual spree Bill had obviously just finished, that left him drenched with perspiration, when I approached him to make love (it never entering my mind what he just finished doing), he was still able, though barely, to roll his wasted, sopping self on top of me, get it up, penetrate, and go at it again … only to finish within thirty seconds!

Then my stocky, heavy hunk, whom I had been waiting and longing for all evening, fell fast asleep on top of me; without a word or a kiss, his dead weight crushing my petite five-foot-two frame! More cries, grunts, and groans — but this time they weren’t coming from badass Billy! I was crushed … in more ways than one … physically and mentally.

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Part 19-Y:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —
and Polygamy On The Down-Low

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A Reflection: 

Is God then so ignorant of things,
so unacquainted with the human heart
that He has to find out about a man by testing him?
Of course not. It is in order that a person
may find out about himself.

There are things in a person which are
hidden from the person in whom they are.
And they won’t come out, or be opened up, or discovered,
except through tests and trials and temptations.

If God stops testing,
it means the Master is stopping teaching …
you do not know yourself unless you learn yourself
through trial, temptation, and testing. 

St. Augustine of Hippo (430 CE)

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I left off in:
“My Memoir:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer
 And Polygamy On The Down-Low
Part 19-X” relating:

When my husband Bill came home around 3 AM, and then to our bed, our first night in Guadalajara, Mexico, I approached him to make love, having no idea gay Billy and his beaus had barely finished a sexual rendezvous–NO idea such things existed. He liked to keep it that way.

 I only knew I was crushed by his quick finish and even quicker falling asleep on top of me. And crushed by the dead weight of his limp body I held in my arms as I struggled to breathe, in between sobs and supporting his heavy muscular frame — about the only warmth I had felt from him the whole time there — or since I don’t know where.

This experience was extra disappointing and devastating because I had been expecting to finally have some time alone with my husband; since his other two wives were not there, for a change.

Instead, and with no explanation, Bill left me alone at Steve’s house with Steve’s two wives, my sister Doris and first wife, Beverly. Then, after spending the evening out on the town with Steve, he topped my pain, neglect, and disappointment off by returnning home and to bed unusually late.

After this and all my other suffering and sorrows with Bill, and knowing what I know now about him and how he constantly deceived and mistreated me, if I weren’t so civilized (though I could never do it) I would like to kill him. Then I remember he’s already dead.)

On my second day in Guadalajara with Bill, after touring some of its beautiful landmarks, with Steve as our guide, Bill took me with them to eat at a swazzi French restaurant where one of their handsome Mexican “contacts” worked as a Waiter.

When this Waiter came to take our orders, Billy and Stephen spoke with him in French — using an odd, pug-nosed, nasal accent I had never before heard Bill or Steve use. (They had learned French in school; and while on their Mormon French mission in the late 1950s.)

Then, the pug-nosed nasality amongst the three carried right on as they switched to speaking in Spanish! (And, no: We’re NOT talking about the Castilian accent. I’m fluent in Spanish, spent five weeks in Spain; and I can speak with a Castilian accent–for those of you who want to think Bill and Steve were using the “High class” Castilian accent.)

I only knew a few words in Spanish, back then. No French. But, as with other weird things I’d witnessed on this trip with these two men, I never quit wondering why they used that odd nasality. I never heard Bill nor Stephen speak again in that pug-nosed nasal tone; but I was never around them much, either, when they were together with other men.

Eventually, my wondering about the strange things witnessed on this trip bore fruit. After I escaped the cult, became educated and experienced, listened, watched, and read for answers–It helped that I had been around the block a few times, too–I learned, among other things, pug-nosed nasal speech was a secret code homosexuals used, at least back then, to connect.

The “connection” with the Waiter worked: That night, while climbing the loft to our bunk, Bill raised his voluminous voice and bellowed–so I would believe I was the guilty party–victimizing the victim:

“I”m not taking you anywhere else with me and Steve! I’m going to punish you for coming on this trip when I didn’t say you could! You just hopped a ride! So, for our next four nights here, you are to stay on your side of the bed. And DON’T touch me!”

Isn’t it odd: While hidden away in the big city where Billy was free to enjoy the homosexual spree, he didn’t want me … couldn’t use me, is more like it. But now I realize Billy’s punishing me was simply an excuse to save his sexual juices for gay rendezvous!

Because, on the trip to and from Guadalajara, when there weren’t any gay guys but Steve to save his sex for, Bill had NO problem responding to my sexual advances — even though one of Stephen’s wives was also riding in the back of the truck with us; whichever one was not sitting up front with Steve while Bill relinquished his envied spot next to Steve to get some sleep so he could take the wheel next.

So, on our way back home to Colonia LeBaron, Bill’s punishment ended as quickly as it had begun! If I made the first move, this sex addict was back to responding then falling asleep on me immediately after his three-minute screw, wherein he took advantage of my nubile body and how well he fit — when we thought the other person in the back of the truck was asleep.

I was so in love with Bill, and so bluffed by him and my Mormon fundamentalist indoctrination, I took whatever I could get, whenever I could get it — which was never nearly enough … nor ever often enough.

My Memoir: Part 19-Z:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —
 And Polygamy On The Down-Low

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Women Beware:
Philanderers are Opportunists: Big Pretenders.
They will tell anybody anything they want to hear.How can you tell if they’re lying?
Their lips are moving.

If a person will break a marriage contract,
he or she will break any contract.

A conman gains a woman’s “con”fidence,
then conjures up dishonest and illegal means to trick her:
Womanizers are cons/sociopaths:
Like convicts, they have no respect for The Rule of Law.

Every lady’s man I’ve ever known
has turned out to be a con
and a bisexual on the down-low.
But it takes two to tango.
Men can’t do it without a predatorial
or wanton woman’s help.
Stephany Spencer

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I left off in the last blog “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron-McDonald de Spencer– And Polygamy On The Down-Low, Part 19-Y” stating:

On our way back home to Colonia LeBaron, bisexual Bill’s punishment ended! He returned to taking advantage of how well he fit if I made the first move… and the other person in the back of the truck wouldn’t know.

But how is it I ended up on this trip Bill hadn’t “specifically” said I could go on? Well, I complained to my older sister Doris, Stephen’s plural wife, saying:

“Bill still has not given me a definite answer as to whether or not I can go on the trip with him. Each time I ask him, he simply responds, ‘You can probably go. I’ll see.’ And we’re supposed to leave tomorrow!”

She quipped, “Well, the way to handle that is to have your suitcase packed so you can grab it and hop in the back of the truck just as the engine starts up and they’re about to pull out.

“I’ll be in the back of the truck to help you. Bill will be up in the cab with Stephen; so you’ll be well on your way to Guadalajara and my house before Bill knows you’ve made up his mind for him!

“I’ll let you know what time they plan to leave in the morning. We’ll sure teach Bill to give you a definite answer in the future so you’ll know whether or not to get a babysitter and be packed and ready to go!”

As it turned out, I had my suitcase packed and was at the truck when Bill came to get in. Being concerned about how he looked to others and unable to handle controversy, Bill put out his hand and graciously helped me get on the truck along with my luggage! So he inadvertently gave me permission to go. His saying he didn’t give me permission to go showed lack of integrity on his part, and a penchant for blaming me for his own doing’s.

Day after day, as the time for Bill’s trip to Guadalajara had approached, he had left me up in the air … dangling. Didn’t bother to let me off the hook. Kept pretending he was going to take me with him when he really had no intentions (I now realize) of being with anyone but Stephen and the gay sex life in Guadalajara.

Stephen, who had been living and working there for a while, had so raved about life in that city. But he had me believing he was raving about the city of Guadalajara, it’s self. Apparently, he never let on to anyone but Bill that it was the gay life there he was raving about!

Oddly enough, Bill was not taking either of his other two wives on this five-day trip. And it was definitely my turn, long since, to go somewhere with him! But as usual, once on the trip, Bill made sure I wouldn’t much enjoy it; and wouldn’t be able to develop any intimacy with him.

Now I realize whenever he did not take one of his wives with him, it was because he wanted to be with a boyfriend — or alone in the dark fucking “bushes” in the park.

Bill didn’t want to be with me, as young, beautiful, and sexy as others said I was. “You are a ten on the ‘Richter’ scale,” said my brother-in-law Sigfried Widmar. “Any man would be proud to walk with you on his arm.” And almost every Plyg in town wanted to.

But Bill didn’t need nor love me. I realize now, unless he could use women to his advantage, they were not his preference. He was a Big Pretender, a charmer, a womanizer who said one thing, did another — an Opportunist who would tell a person anything they wanted to hear — such as, I realize now, “I love you.” How could you tell if he was lying? His lips were moving.

But Bill was further put off by me because I didn’t “bite”–  didn’t respond when his lesbian wives tried to bring me into “the family,” at Bill’s behest. I was totally naïve and unaware of what the advances of his wives meant. Didn’t know lesbianism existed.

Even had I ever been told about it by such as my parents, they would have told me it was a terrible sin. So it was nothing I would ever have wanted to be involved in — if ONLY because I was not sexually attracted to women.

The whole five years I was with Bill, I didn’t know such things as menages a trois existed, either — far less that some families in Mormon Fundamentalism participated in threesomes and group sex behind closed doors. I mean very closed. Because it was very against our religion!

Continued in “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And Polygamy On The Down-Low, Part 20-A

Continued in My Memoir:
“Pt 20-A:
Ma, Pa, Me,
and Polygamy On-the-Down-Low”