Elder Matthew Cowley as a Special Witness of Jesus

By Dennis B. Horne

            Elder Matthew Cowley was one of the more unique men to be called to the Apostleship in our day. It might be said that he served in his ministry more like one of the three Nephites or John the Revelator, all translated beings, than as a businessman. He in fact disliked working in the business-related aspects of the departments that support the ecclesiastical Church. He preferred to be out among the people, blessing them, which he did by following the guidance of the Holy Spirit. This was his great spiritual gift and was probably the most pronounced way that he demonstrated his calling and authority as a special witness for Jesus (only excepting bearing his testimony)—by exercising his faith to heal the sick and afflicted as directed by the Spirit. During his ministry he healed hundreds of ill people.

            He was also known as a special friend and supporter of the Polynesian peoples of the Pacific, among whom he served for many years. He sometimes hinted that it was from them that he learned and developed his pure and simple but powerful faith in Christ. One of his missionaries, Glen L. Rudd, became an unofficial companion to him as he blessed the sick, both as a mission president and as an apostle. Rudd seems to have had like faith to Cowley and they made a great team, going to hospitals and the homes of the sick to bless and encourage. Glen Rudd, who passed away just this last December (President Monson spoke at his funeral), later became a General Authority himself. Along with his own ministry, and especially after having been released from the Seventy, Elder Rudd spent considerable time and effort keeping the memory of his great mentor alive among the latter-day saints. Elder Rudd often spoke about Elder Cowley and took time to record many precious stories in talks and booklets that he passed out to friends and relatives and work associates. He gave many of these to me, including copyright permission to publish from them.

            Years ago, Cedar Fort published a book that I wrote about healings, Faith to Heal and be Healed, that also contained a chapter by Elder Rudd, adapting some talks he had given about Elder Cowley. Yet he had preserved much more about Elder Cowley than what was included in the chapter there.

My forthcoming book, I Know He Lives: How 13 Special Witnesses came to know Jesus Christ, to be released this September 2017, contains another chapter about Matthew Cowley, largely assembled and written by myself, but strongly influenced by Elder Rudd’s reminiscences. I proudly join with my friend Elder Rudd, who can no longer do so, in seeking to keep Elder Cowley’s legacy of faith in Christ alive.

            Below are many pages of stories and information about Elder Cowley, largely unknown to the Church today. They are marvelously uplifting and edifying. They come from two sources, an unpublished, privately printed booklet written by Elder Rudd called Tender Moments, which is filled with heart-warming and faith-affirming stories about Elder Cowley, and some talks he gave entitled, “More Stories about Elder Cowley.” A little bit of this material overlaps what I included in my forthcoming “I Know He Lives” chapter on Elder Cowley, but most of this information is exclusive of it and helps to introduce him and my chapter by providing further information about him. Readers will also notice some overlap and repetition in the stories below, as Elder Rudd repeated some of the same stories in the two sources I have drawn from, and I have done little editing of the material.

            I think readers will find the below material about Elder Cowley and his life of faith and inspiration to be fascinating; I know I do. If you enjoy this, you will enjoy my chapter, “Elder Matthew Cowley’s Special Witness of Jesus Christ” in I Know He Lives, which should hit shelves in about four more months (mid-September). Some of this material is also found here, and here, and here.

[From Elder Glen L. Rudd, Tender Moments]:

I discovered the home owned by the Duncans was the most famous home in the entire [New Zealand] mission. It was in this house that the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price were translated into Maori by Elder Matthew Cowley. Brother Cowley arrived in the mission when he was 17. At the end of three years, he was preparing to go home when word was received by the mission president from the President of the Church, President Joseph F. Smith, to have Cowley stay and translate the books into the Maori language. Immediately, Brother and Sister Duncan added two rooms onto their big home, one as a bedroom for Brother Cowley and the other one to be dedicated for translation by Brother Cowley and his helpers. His original helpers were Wi Duncan and Stuart Meha, strong Maori leaders. These were the three who started together the translation of the sacred books, and for a period of two years they worked on the translations. At the end of his five year mission, Matthew Cowley was ready to leave for home. He had finished the work of the translation, but went back up to headquarters in Auckland, where he could proofread what had been done to make sure that when it went to the printers it would be correct. The book was printed. The translation has never been changed or touched by anyone. It has been almost a century since this important work was done.

Matthew Cowley, who performed many miracles, was also the recipient of miraculous blessings himself. One such he relates as having occurred on his first mission. He had been ill for some months when he received a letter from his mission president telling him they were having the annual mission conference, but for him to stay where he was and recuperate. He had just finished reading the letter when a telegram from the mission president came telling him to come to the conference. Said Matthew Cowley in recalling this experience:

“There were sixty-five of us there then... the grand old mission president put his chair down in the center of the hall and he motioned for me to come and sit in it. I walked over and sat in that chair. I could hardly make it I was so weak. I sat down there and sixty-five of my brethren put their hands on me... and the mission president blessed me.

His name was William Gardner, a man seventy-three years of age.... He hadn’t been to school, but he was full of common sense and the Spirit of God. He put his hands on my head. It is the shortest blessing I believe I ever received. He said, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ and by virtue and authority of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood, we command you to be made well immediately.’ That was all. I stood up out of the chair perfectly well. The old strength came right back through me from head to foot just as if it were being poured into me, and it was, by the gift and power of God.”

Upon return from his [first] mission, Matthew attended law school. When he graduated, he practiced as an attorney in Salt Lake for about twelve years. He served for one term as the Assistant County Attorney, then as the County Attorney for another term. During that time, Prohibition was still in effect, with much bootlegging still going on. Matthew was determined to prosecute everyone fairly. Two separate factions attempted to control the criminal situation in Salt Lake. Many came to Matthew offering bribes, and he often said he had the opportunity to retire as a wealthy man had he accepted those bribes. Nevertheless, he never acceded to one; and the criminal element supported him in his political campaigns because they knew he could be trusted completely. It did not take long for Matthew to become well known and respected in Salt Lake.

One of Matthew’s favorite eating places where he met many of his friends for lunch was the “Grabeteria,” just a short walk from his downtown office. It was a unique establishment, where people walked in and got their food cafeteria-style, then stood along the wall and read the daily newspapers. Method of payment was done on an honor system. When ready to leave, the person paid the cashier the amount he felt he owed for lunch; however, if the cashier felt the person had not paid the proper amount, there was a little bell that rang as he approached the door and left. I presume this kept everybody honest.

President Cowley rarely slept more than about four hours a night. Consequently, he often took a walk down Queen Street to the theater to have a good snooze. All the theater employees knew him and rarely charged him. Sometimes he saw the same show two times a week, but his purpose was not to see the show but to get a rest.

We engaged in a rather extensive project, painting the second floor of the mission home. One of the missionaries was not too bright and painted a couple of doorknobs. As we continued our project down the hall, we suddenly heard President Cowley yell out in a loud voice, “Somebody owes me a new suit. I just got paint all over it!” Immediately, the missionaries cleaned up the doorknobs and repented of that particular senseless mistake.

Another project we were given was that of tiling the one bathroom in the mission home, which was also on the second floor. Elder Bodell had been a tile setter prior to his mission and supervised the project. It was decided that all the missionaries, under his direction, would put tile on the walls around the entire bathroom. He was by far the largest and strongest missionary physically; however, all he did was put the tile up one or two at a time while the rest of us mixed the mud outside, carried it through the house and up the stairs for his use. We had a great time doing all the tile work and the Cowleys were delighted at how well it turned out.

President Cowley loved to cook, especially breakfast while we held our early morning study class. We read out loud so that he could participate. If we said a word wrong or misinterpreted something, he would correct us from the kitchen and thus add to our study.

One morning, which we shall never forget, was the morning we slept in. It was the only time I recall Matthew Cowley ever getting angry. He went into the bedroom of two elders and shook the bed to wake them up. Those of us in the two other bedrooms needed no further warning. We were downstairs ready for study class in less than a minute. Brother Cowley had a very even temperament and rarely showed anger, but that morning, he was distressed for some reason and let us know he was capable of getting very upset.

President Cowley had an interesting way of telling jokes and stories. During the course of the day, he told us stories in which the end was always unusual and maybe not very proper in Sunday School. Of course, they were nothing vulgar, but a little different than what people were used to. Then at the supper table in the evenings, he would tell the same stories and change the ending to something a little more appropriate and less humorous. We laughed because we knew what he was telling us, even though Sister Cowley always said she didn’t see anything funny with them and why did he tell those crazy stories? It was his unique way of carrying on our supper table conversations.

President Cowley loved to read. He often walked down the main street of Auckland to the bookstores that sold used books and buy a dozen or more books; and I doubt he ever paid more than a schilling for any book or magazine. His reading habits were wonderful. He was the first and best speed reader I ever knew and he retained almost everything he read. He often gave us a book report on a rather fascinating book he felt we should know about and understand.

On one occasion, while traveling with President Cowley to Tahoraiti (Dannevirke), we stopped in Palmerston North to see one of our Maori brothers who taught music. When he heard where we were going, Brother Wi Pere Amaru asked to go along. Before leaving the city, President Cowley went to the post office and sent a telegram to Sister Polly Duncan which said, “Kill the fatted calf; we’ll be there for supper — signed Cowley, Rudd, and Amaru.” When we arrived, she had a great banquet prepared with chop suey and about five other things that she knew Tumuaki enjoyed. He never refused to let people do things for him; as a result, everybody loved him. Later on that same trip, we arrived at the home of Stuart Meha, where we had an interesting and wonderful afternoon and evening.

President Cowley had to perform a rather unfortunate and sad duty regarding a wayward missionary. By invitation, I grabbed my briefcase, which was always ready, and rushed to the car. President Cowley seemed very pensive on that occasion. He hardly spoke during the first full day of driving over the mountains to Hawkes Bay. I wondered what was wrong but didn’t say very much. We traveled over a very dangerous, winding highway known as the Taupo Road over the mountains between Taupo and Napier. As we drove along the rather narrow road and rounded a curve, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the road; and before President Cowley could switch back into the proper lane, we were hit by another car.

The only thing President Cowley said was, “Don’t say a word!” So I said nothing. Our car was still on the wrong side of the road, and it was obvious that it was our fault. The other driver was really upset and began to chew us out, call us names, threaten us, and say a lot of dumb things.

Finally, President Cowley was able to say something, and the man recognized that he was an American. He began to spout off about Americans. He said, “You come over here to our country; and when someone like me wants to drive around and see the scenery, we have to worry about people getting in our way.”

Immediately, President Cowley said, “You mean you weren’t looking where you were going, you were looking at the scenery? At least I looked where I was going. I admit I was wrong, but I knew where I was. Evidently, you were sight seeing and were just lucky to have someone to hit into.”

The poor guy just wilted. He knew he was completely beaten. He looked our car over and said, “Well, I guess we were both wrong, so I’ll go on my way and pay for my own, and you pay for yours.” We got back in the car and drove away.

Nothing more was said for several minutes. Finally, President Cowley said, “Well, we got out of that pretty good, didn’t we?” The car wasn’t hurt too badly but still needed to be repaired.

The next morning, as we continued on toward Wellington about six hours away, President Cowley began talking more than he had the previous day. He had prayed, when he was made a mission president, that he would never have to dishonorably release a missionary and he had been successful so far. But this morning, because of a serious infraction of mission and Church rules, his sad duty was to dishonorably release a missionary and send him home. When we arrived at the elders’ home in Wellington, I spent an hour with the other elders while the elder in trouble drove away with President Cowley. When they returned about an hour later, President Cowley was visibly distressed. I was told to contact headquarters and get a ticket on the next boat for the elder to return home. We all loved the missionary and felt sorrowful with what happened. To ease the strain of such a painful duty, President Cowley said to me, “Let’s go fishing.”

In 1940, when the First Presidency called the missionaries home because of the war, we had one week to gather all the missionaries to headquarters to catch the Mariposa. It was a hectic week, but we managed to get everyone into Auckland on time, including the last group of missionaries from Australia who sailed into New Zealand for a one-day layover. That particular day, we had another funeral and President Cowley requested that about five of them accompany us to the funeral. They were astounded at the things we did, which not only included speaking, praying and singing, but also assisting in the actual burial of the deceased. One of the missionaries said, “I think I did more real missionary work today than I did in the whole two years in Australia.”

The Sunday before we were to leave, President Cowley wanted to hold meetings all day. Priesthood meeting was with just the missionaries, during which he spoke with great tenderness. He hated to see us go home. “Up to now,” he said, “I have been your mission president; but next time I see you, I’ll just be your friend. If any of you have any legal problems or run into difficulty, be sure to call on me. As a friend, I would love to help you.” He also reminded us to be active in civic affairs and politics; at least enough to know what was going on. He gave excellent instructions on honoring our priesthood and serving the Lord.

On Friday morning about 7:30 A.M. on November 25th, 1938, the Mariposa sailed into Auckland, New Zealand Harbor and came to a stop. There were four of us in our room. As we were gathering our coats and other things together we heard a man say, “Are there any Mormon’s anywhere around here?” We turned and there standing in the door of our room was President Matthew Cowley.

This was the first time that any of us had ever seen him. I remember that morning as if it was yesterday. He had on a coat that didn’t match his pants. He had a pair of crepe soled shoes on and a nice tie with a big knot. I was twenty and he was forty-one years of age. This was a great moment in my life because it was the beginning of a special friendship that lasted for the next fifteen years and beyond.

Matthew Cowley was a most unusual and marvelous individual. His personality was excellent. He seemed to love everybody. He seemed to be patient with everybody and particularly with the faults of young missionaries. He never seemed to lose patience with the saints or elders. He had the ability to use the English language in such a way that every missionary understood who he was, what he was, and what he wanted us to be. His Maori language was so correct and pure that all of the Saints and many non-members gave attention when he spoke.

We missionaries knew from day one that Matthew Cowley was an ideal man to be our mission president. The longer we were in the mission, the more convinced we were that we had been especially called and assigned to work with him in the great old New Zealand Mission.

One morning in 1940, President Matthew Cowley poked his head into my office and said, “Let’s go.” I grabbed my briefcase that was always packed and ready, and beat him to the car. After a few minutes of driving he said, “We are going to the city of Tauranga where I started my mission over twenty years ago, when I was just seventeen years of age.”

After about a two-hour drive, we arrived in Tauranga. We drove about three miles to a little Maori village called Judea. This village was nearly all Latter-day Saints. Down the road a short distance was a town called Bethlehem which was mostly Catholic. Brother Cowley had spent most of his first year as a missionary in this district headquartered in Judea. As we were driving Brother Cowley said, “I have to go visit my Maori mother. He explained that she had been the sister who had helped teach him the Maori language while he was recovering from a serious illness. He had lived with her family and she had nursed him back to good health. He would read out load every day from the Maori Bible and try to learn Maori words. She would correct him whenever his pronunciation was not right. She began tutoring him and really ended up being his Maori language teacher. She did not speak much English, and that was a blessing because it forced Brother Cowley to concentrate more on Maori. It wasn’t long before he was able to speak Maori very fluently.

This kind, wonderful woman took care of him and mothered him until he was able to resume regular missionary work.

When we arrived at the little house where she lived – just a small, humble home – we went in. We were told the woman was in bed in the back room, which was nothing more than a lean-to. When we got back there we had to get on our knees because the room was only about four feet high. We crawled on some Maori woven mats to where she was lying. She was seriously ill and quite old. I didn’t fully sense what was going on inside of Brother Cowley until we reached her. Then I knew that he truly loved her for what she had done for him as a young boy.

Now, as the president of the mission, he had come to give her a blessing. What a privilege it was to be with him. We knelt beside the mats upon which she lay and put our hands on her head. Brother Cowley gave her a magnificent blessing, as only a loving son could give to his mother. It was marvelous to feel the spirit on this occasion and to see this wonderful old Maori sister and a very humble mission president meeting each other again after so long a period of time. This was one of the most spiritual experiences I had on my mission.

Now, let me say a little more about Matthew Cowley. He was a very uncomplicated man. Some who couldn’t understand his simplicity became confused about what he did and found it difficult to understand him. I had the opportunity of being his close associate for fifteen years. After he died, some people asked me about him. One man said, “I just can’t understand how Brother Cowley did all the things he did.” The real answer is that Brother Cowley went directly to the Lord, told the Lord what he wanted, and received the answer. There wasn’t anything hard about that; Brother Cowley just did it.

Mission presidents today must be well organized in order to hold district and zone meetings and all the necessary appointments and interviews. They have made plans for almost every day weeks in advance. But Brother Cowley rarely planned anything; he just lived by following the promptings of the Spirit of the Lord.

As President Cowley’s traveling companion in the mission field, I received instructions from him to keep my briefcase packed with a couple of changes of clothing. He said, “When I say ‘We’re going,’ you grab your bag, beat me to the car, and don’t ask any questions.”

When that would happen, I would grab my bag and go to the car. Being a young, eager missionary, I often wondered where we were going—but I didn’t ask.

Once, after we had driven a few miles, he asked, “Would you like to know where we’re going?”

Then he said, “So would I! I’m not sure just where we’re going, but we’ll keep going; and when the Lord tells us to turn, we’ll turn, and we’ll end up where He wants us to be.” When the Maori people in the New Zealand Mission needed help, they prayed for President Cowley to come to them. One day he drove up to a post office in a rather distant city in New Zealand. There were two sisters standing by the post office, waiting. When he got out of the car, one said to the other, “See, I told you he would be here soon.”

President Cowley said, “What’s going on here?”

One of the sisters said, “We needed you, and we’ve been praying. We knew you would come, and you always go directly to the post office, so we decided to wait here until you arrived.” It was just that simple. People would tell the Lord what they wanted, and somehow or other President Cowley was led by the Spirit to go to where they were. He wasn’t disorganized, but I have never known anyone who planned less and accomplished more, simply by doing what he felt impressed to do.

There was a man by the name of Syd who lived in a little Maori village on the east coast of New Zealand. At that time there was a large branch of the Church there with about four hundred members. One Saturday afternoon, after a long, eight-hour drive, President Matthew Cowley arrived at this village and went directly to see his old friend, Syd.

As a young man, Syd had been an outstanding athlete. He had attended high school and college in the United States. He had become a well-known basketball player, and, as an all-star athlete, he had received a lot of publicity. His picture had been in the newspapers many times, and everybody had known about this fine athlete from New Zealand.

Syd had been ordained a seventy while he had lived in the United States, and when he arrived back in New Zealand, he had found that he was the only seventy in the whole area, and he didn’t have a quorum to belong to. He had become somewhat inactive, and he hadn’t been keeping the Word of Wisdom, but deep within his heart he still knew the gospel to be true.

As a mission president and a friend, President Cowley called on Syd. (Let me explain that among the Maori members and the missionaries, President Cowley was known as Tumuaki, a word of utmost respect, meaning “President” in the Maori language.) “Tumuaki” found Syd sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch, smoking a big cigar. Syd didn’t stop chewing on his cigar as President Cowley sat down beside him to visit. After they had talked and laughed for a while, President Cowley became serious and said, “Syd, I want you to come to church tomorrow.”

They both looked toward the old chapel, and Syd said, “I think it’ll fall in if I do. I haven’t been there for a long time. I don’t think I’d better risk it.”

President Cowley said, “Syd, I want you to be there. I’m going to do something important tomorrow.”

Syd inquired, “What are you going to do?”

President Cowley answered, “I’m going to release the branch president and put in a new one.”

Syd said, “Why don’t you just tell me who the new branch president will be, and then I won’t have to get myself cleaned up for church in the morning.”

President Cowley said, “Well, I’ll tell you who it is. It’s going to be you.”

Syd pulled that old cigar out of his mouth, looked at it, and said, “Tumuaki, you mean me and my cigar?”

President Cowley said, “No, Syd—just you. We don’t need your cigar.”

Then Syd threw the cigar out on the ground in front of the porch. He thought for a minute, turned to President Cowley, and very humbly said, “Tumuaki, I don’t break the Word of Wisdom any more. I’m a full-tithe payer. I’ll be the branch president, and I’ll be worthy. Tomorrow morning I’ll be there, and I promise you that I’ll be the best branch president in the whole country. You won’t have to worry about me and whether or not I’m living the gospel.”

For the next several years, Syd served as one of the strongest and finest leaders in the mission. His son became the first bishop in the ward when the stake was created. Just recently, his grandson was released from serving as a bishop. Syd’s whole family is strong and active in the Church today and is one of the great families in New Zealand. Why? Because old Syd knew how to repent, he repented on the spot. When he was called to repentance, he quit his worldly ways. He became and remained a faithful Saint until the day he died.

In most cases, that’s all there is to repentance. Do you see how really simple that was? President Cowley never did ask Syd to repent. He gave him an opportunity to be of service to the Church in a priesthood calling. Syd knew that if he accepted that calling, he could no longer sin, so he immediately quit. It was over—just like that! The Lord accepted his repentance, and Syd became a great leader.

In early 1938, Matthew Cowley – a practicing attorney in Salt Lake – was walking down Main Street, about a half a block from the Brigham Young Monument, where he bumped into President David O. McKay, then a counselor in the presidency of the Church. President McKay said to him, “Matt, how would you like to be the president of the New Zealand Mission?” Brother Cowley said, “I wouldn’t like it, but if I was called properly, I would be glad to go.” That was the end of their conversation.

The very next day Brother Cowley’s phone rang and it was President David O. McKay. He said, “Brother Cowley, this is David O. McKay and this is your official call to preside over the New Zealand Mission. We need you there in about six weeks.”

He and his wife had very little time to get ready, but they made it and got to New Zealand sometime during February 1938. They stayed for almost seven and a half years.

During Brother Cowley’s first mission (which lasted five years), he was in New Zealand during the entire time that America was at war in WWI. When he was called back in 1938 to be the mission president, New Zealand went to war in September of 1939 and all of the missionaries were called home in October of 1940. He was left alone until 1945. By that time WWII was fought and he had been in New Zealand during that entire time. Because of his two missions to New Zealand, he missed both World Wars.

When Brother Cowley returned home in September 1945, he didn’t own a car – didn’t own a home – didn’t have any insurance – didn’t have any money, everything had been spent during his years in New Zealand. He was looking for a job. He had two or three opportunities, but didn’t like them. Only three weeks after he got home, he went to October conference. The night before, President George Albert Smith called him and told him to sit on the front row in the Tabernacle and in the event that they had five minutes, they would call on him to give his testimony. If they didn’t have five minutes, they were going to call on him to offer a prayer. I went with him to the Tabernacle. I was a bishop and had a pass, but because he didn’t have a pass, we were given quite an argument getting him in. We talked him in and he sat on the front row. After the opening prayer, President J. Reuben Clark, Jr. read off the names of all of the general authorities. There were then only eleven members of the Twelve. President George Albert Smith had just been made President of the Church which created a vacancy. When President Clark read off the eleven names, he paused, and then announced the twelfth apostle – Matthew Cowley. That was the first Brother Cowley knew about it. He had not been told and it was a surprise to him and all of the rest of us. His wife was home doing some work when the phone began to ring with people calling congratulating her. She was upset because she hadn’t been to conference. President George Albert Smith didn’t tell the Twelve until only just a few minutes before the beginning of that general conference.

Elder Cowley had a number of boyhood friends who, for some reason or other, were engaged in drinking. His father had told him as a boy that he (his father) was an alcoholic who never drank. He told Matthew that he was confident that he also was an alcoholic; and he made him promise to be very careful not to begin to drink. If he did, it would probably ruin his life.

One of Matthew’s best friends was Mose Miller, whom both he and his father Matthias dearly loved. However, Mose was a confirmed alcoholic. He was left $400,000 in his youth and drank it all up. Periodically, he promised Elder Cowley that he would quit “next Tuesday morning.” One Tuesday morning at 6:00, Elder Cowley came into my hospital room, where I had been for several days, and sat by my bed. He told me that his old friend Mose had finally quit drinking; he had just died a few minutes before.

He had been sitting up with Mose in the hospital all night long. Just before Mose died, he asked Elder Cowley to place a triple combination in his hands, and he died holding that precious possession, which he loved dearly. Mose was a good and faithful Latter-day Saint with a bad problem, but he had the love and respect of Matthew Cowley and many others.

Mose was buried on a Thursday, and during the weekly meeting of the Quorum of the Twelve, Elder Cowley was excused partway through. President Clark asked if he was going to speak at the funeral of his alcoholic friend. Elder Cowley responded, “Yes, I am, and I want you to know that he was a great Latter-day Saint. He would have defended you or any one of the First Presidency or Twelve with his life. However, he had a terrible weakness that kept him from being as wonderful as he might have been.”

Elder Cowley was a sort of patron saint watching over the Alcoholics Anonymous group in Salt Lake City. He attended quite a few of their meetings and spoke on several occasions. Many of the alcoholics came to his office to receive blessings. He never gave a man a blessing while he was drunk, but asked him to go home and come back as quickly as he could when he was sober so that the complete man could get the blessing. Some days his office smelt like a brewery, with one person after another coming in. This, of course, was in the days when there was no security and most anyone could walk in off the street to visit him.

One day Brother Cowley and I were walking down Main Street in Salt Lake City. We got down a block or so when he said, “Let’s stop in this place and get a good cold drink.” At the very back of this tall building, about fifty or sixty steps, was a little confectionary place where you could buy cigars, cigarettes, candy, and drinks. It was a narrow entrance and we walked to the back. Brother Cowley said, “We want two ice cold Coca Colas.”

The clerk took the cap off of the Coke and handed it over to Brother Cowley and he handed it to me. The clerk grabbed the other Coke, but before he could remove the cap Brother Cowley said, “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll have an Orange Crush.” There I am standing holding a Coca Cola in an uptown office building and he is drinking an Orange Crush!

He had planned this all out in advance just to pull a trick on me. We were standing there drinking and all of a sudden he says, “Don’t turn around! Don’t turn around! Here comes Harold B. Lee!” I did turn around and it wasn’t Brother Lee, but just typical Matthew Cowley….

After a rather long trip, Elder Cowley desired to take a small vacation to Yellowstone. My wife had been in bed for the last couple of months, hoping to have another baby. She was too sick to do anything around the house. But he insisted that we go with him, along with Dave and Rosemary Evans and his boy Toni. The night before we were supposed to leave, I was still positive we couldn’t go; but he came to our home and gave Marva a blessing, promising her that she would be well enough to take the trip. The next day we left for Yellowstone and had a wonderful time. Marva felt good the entire time. While there, we went fishing in Yellowstone Lake. Elder Cowley stood on the shore and watched Dave Evans and I cast out unsuccessfully time and again for fish. Finally, Brother Cowley donned a pair of hip boots, walked out just a few steps into the lake, threw out his line, and caught a fish. He turned and said, “See, you brethren don’t have enough authority!”

He waded out a little further in the lake. Suddenly, he started getting shorter and shorter. He legs were spread out, his feet slowly slipped further and further apart, and he was sinking. He yelled for help; but we couldn’t move, because we were laughing so hard. When he was about to go under, we finally managed to quit laughing long enough to rescue him.

Brother Cowley was marvelous, just a great man. We talk about miracles. There were many miracles. I was blessed to be a part of some of them. It got to be where he could hardly go anywhere to bless the people without me or one of the other missionaries. He would come to my office, my poultry business where I was always busy trying to get orders out, and wait an hour or an hour and a half till I could clean up and go with him to the hospital or to wherever someone was waiting for a priesthood blessing. It was wonderful to know how he loved to bless people.

The phone used to ring on some of those occasions. It would be the secretary to President George Albert Smith. She’d say, “Brother Rudd, President Smith’s trying to find Brother Cowley. Have you got him down there?”

And I’d say, “Yeah, he’s sitting right here.”

“Well, tell him that President wants him right now.”

You know, Brother Cowley was not lazy, but he didn’t want to stay in his office. He just had to get out of the Church Office Building because he knew of half a dozen people who needed blessings. So, he played hooky a lot from work. He would come and wait and President Smith would know how to find him. It was wonderful what teamwork it took to get Brother Cowley back uptown where President Smith could use him. This is a day of miracles and it was in his lifetime. He was a man of great faith, a man who had the ability to bless people. He had the ability to call down from heaven those blessings. It was marvelous to be at his side on a dozen, a hundred, two hundred – at least, maybe more – occasions where we blessed the people.

Matthew Cowley had a serious heart attack about one year after he became one of the Twelve. He was rushed home from BYU where he had been speaking and was taken directly to his home. He refused to go to the hospital. As soon as he arrived home, his wife called me and said, “Get Dave and come up quick.” So I picked up Dave Evans in my old delivery truck and we raced up to the place where President and Sister Cowley were living in the Royal Arms Apartments on North and West Temple. We immediately went in and he said, “Hurry, Elders! Give me a blessing!” He was in terrible pain. So we administered to him. The pain left immediately. Not many minutes later, the front doorbell rang. I went to the door and it was President George Albert Smith. He loved Brother Cowley, loved him with all his heart. He had called him to be an apostle. He had helped raise him as a young boy. He went with him to New Zealand when President Cowley went to be the mission president. President Smith said, “I have come to see Brother Cowley.” I took him into the bedroom where President Cowley was.

It was a lovely thing to see the Prophet of the Lord as he knelt down close to Brother Cowley. You could feel that great feeling between the President and the Apostle. He said, “Matt, I have come to give you a blessing.” Brother Cowley said, “Well, my missionaries just gave me a blessing.” And then the President of the Church said, “But, don’t you think it would be okay if the President of the Church could give you a blessing too?” The President smiled, and then he said to Dave and me, “Come on brethren.” And then he gave Brother Cowley a blessing, just as a father would to his tender son.

When Elder Matthew Cowley was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I had the occasion to be with him nearly every day when he was in Salt Lake City. He always had someone to bless, and he would call me to assist him.

He would come to my place of business and wait until I could go with him. We blessed hundreds of people in Salt Lake City and the surrounding area. Brother Cowley seemed to be in great demand. If I was unable to go with him, some of my missionary companions would accompany him. Elder Albert E. Bowen, an older member of the Quorum of the Twelve, was severely ill in LDS Hospital – on the seventh floor in a private room. Quite regularly Brother Cowley would say to me, “Let’s run up to the hospital and see how Brother Bowen is.” When we went in, it was wonderful to hear a younger apostle express with tenderness his sympathy and love for one of his brethren. On every occasion we would give Brother Bowen a priesthood blessing. I know he appreciated it greatly and I know it did Brother Cowley a lot of good. It made me feel wonderful to be in the presence of these two wonderful men.

In my opinion, priesthood blessings are not given often enough. I am grateful that Brother Cowley was one who reached out constantly to see if someone needed or wanted another priesthood blessing.

When I was in the business of selling baby chicks, early one morning several boxes of chicks arrived, which I was to deliver to American Fork. Since Elder Cowley was to speak at BYU that morning, he invited me to go along and deliver the chicks on the way. When we arrived in American Fork and began carrying in the boxes of baby chicks, the lady of the house almost fainted when she realized that a member of the Quorum of the Twelve was delivering her baby chicks to her, just one of those little things that seemed to happen quite frequently.

Elder Cowley loved to stop by the poultry processing plant which I owned. In the front by the office was a deep freeze, and we generally filled it with Snellys’ ice cream bars, which were bought by the dozen. He often stopped in to pick up a couple of Snellys, hop back into the car and be on his way. One day, while on his way to Provo with a carload of men, he stopped long enough to get Snellys for everyone, then waved goodbye to us as he went on his way.

Elder Cowley, as most of us know, never wrote his talks. He had been instructed not to do that by President Smith. However, he had the assignment to give the “Church of the Air” talk on one occasion, which had to be perfectly timed. Therefore, he was required to write it all out

and give it to Brother Gordon Hinckley (not yet a General Authority), who was in charge of the broadcasts. Elder Cowley and Brother Hinckley had quite a debate over the talk. Brother Hinckley insisted that Elder Cowley could not give it in the exact time, and Elder Cowley was

sure he could. They wrestled back and forth for a while; and finally Elder Cowley agreed to take a rather large paragraph out of the talk, which made Brother Hinckley happy. However, when he got before the microphone to give the talk, he put the omission back in and finished right on time. I’m sure he and Brother Hinckley smiled over this unusual occurrence.

He and Sister Cowley enjoyed nothing more than to get a group of missionaries together and go out to supper, particularly to Chinese restaurants with chop suey. Usually, there were enough of us to require two tables, with the men at one table and the women at the other. He had

the time of his life when he visited with us and told us his stories. He would visit at the wives’ table — he was wonderful with them — play little jokes on them and do little things to make them smile.

Elder Cowley got up early one morning while in Samoa to find a single file line of people standing outside his little sleeping house, all waiting to receive blessings. He blessed those people, one after another, for a long period of time. He watched one man in particular, who stood

against a tree nearby, but never got into line. After Elder Cowley had blessed quite a number of people, he went over and acknowledged the man’s presence, and asked was wrong with him. The man said nothing was wrong; he was just standing there wishing he was sick so he could receive a blessing like the rest of them. Elder Cowley told him there was no need to be sick to receive a blessing, and he promptly placed his hands on the man’s head and gave him the blessing he desired.

Elder Cowley, as a grown man, had the exuberance and zest for life of a fifteen-year-old boy. Everything to him was funny, and he could see humor in almost all of life’s circumstances. At the same time, he was deeply spiritual and could quickly bring tears to the eyes.

Brother Cowley had some special gifts. He had a magnificent memory. He hardly ever forgot anything. He was a speed-reader. He read a book of three hundred pages every single day that I know of. In the mission home, when we lived in Auckland, he would buy all the old books he could get, anything, and he would wake up at four o’clock in the morning and then read a book before he got out of bed. Then he’d come down, get all of us out of bed, and he’d cook breakfast for us. I thought he was a great cook.

Brother Cowley could spell anything. We tried, the elders (there were six of us), to find a word that he couldn’t define or spell. We never did. His vocabulary was magnificent. There was never any slang in it. None of us ever heard him cuss or say a swear word of any kind. He was wonderful.

[From “More Stories about Elde r Matthew Cowley”]

Forty-four years [now 64] have come and gone since Matthew Cowley passed away, and still there are many individuals who ask me about him. In fact, I get invitations at least once a week to speak about him. In the past, I have appreciate the opportunities; however, the time has come that I feel I can no longer do it.

            I want to pen some additional thoughts and stories that I often reflect upon about Matthew Cowley, which may add to our understanding of the unusual life of a truly humble and very interesting man. As I knew nothing about Brother Cowley until after I arrived in New Zealand as a young missionary, most of what I write will pertain to that point on in his life.

Boyhood

            Matthew Cowley was born on 2 August 1897 in Preston, Idaho. While still a baby, he moved with his family to Salt Lake City, when his father was called to be an apostle. He grew up on “Apostles’ Row” on West Temple, north of Temple Square. Most of his friends were sons of the apostles; but he was all over the neighborhood, generally having a wonderful time.

            As a teenager. Matthew worked as a stagehand in the old Salt Lake Theater. Where he met many famous actors and actresses who were visiting Salt Lake City. As such, he was subjected to very improper language and many off-colored stores, some of which he never forgot, though he tried desperately.

First Mission to New Zealand

            On his first mission to Zealand as a young boy, Matthew fell in love with the Maori people and worked closely with many of the outstanding priesthood leaders. His first mission was indeed unusual: He served as the superintendent (president) of the mission’s Sunday School. He was on the Board of Directors of the old Maori Agricultural College. He traveled quite extensively for and with his mission president. And he was invited to represent his own country during World Was 1 at a large patriotic gathering in the city of Dannevirke and be one of the many speakers.

Career Life

            Upon return from his mission, Matthew attended law school. When he graduated, he practiced as attorney, then as the County Attorney for another term. During the Prohibition was still in effect with much bootlegging going on. Matthew was determined to prosecute everyone fairly. Two separate factions attempted to control the criminal situation in Salt Lake. Many came to Matthew offering bribes and he often said he had the opportunity to retire as a wealthy man had he accepted those bribes. Nevertheless, he never acceded to one; and the criminal element supported him in his political campaigns because they knew he could be trusted completely. It did not take long for Matthew to become well known and very respected in Salt Lake.

            One of Matthew’s favorite eating places where he met many of his friends for lunch was the “Grabeteria,” just a short walk for his downtown office. It was a unique establishment where people walked in and got their food cafeteria-style. Then stood along the wall and read the daily newspapers. Method of payment was done on an honor system. When leaving the customer paid the cashier the amount he felt he owed for lunch. However, if the cashier felt the person had not paid the proper amount, there was a little bell that rang as he approached the door and left. I presume this kept everybody honest.

Mission President in New Zealand

            When the missionaries arrived in the mission home, President Cowley asked each one who he was, who his parents were, and when his birthday was.  He never forgot the birthday of missionary, not only in New Zealand but until the day he died. Frequently he said, “Oh, it’s Elder So-and-so’s birthday today; I better phone him. He never wrote any dates down; he just remembered them.

           President Cowley was always interested in missionaries who were filled with life and a little mischief. In fact, after we (six missionaries) had been in the mission home for some months, he called us together and said he thought he would transfer all of us back out into the districts and bring some missionaries in who could create a little love havoc and bring a little more activity into the home. That was all we needed, and that particular little problem ended.

            Brother Cowley was a wonderful husband to his wife Elva. He always called her Sue. She was great companion, a wonderful mission, their daughter Jewel was about twelve years old. She believed everything the missionaries told her, even when they deliberately told her falsehoods to tease her. She was a lovely girl and in a real sense became our younger sister. And their adopted son Toni was still a little boy, learning to walk and get around when we left.

            The six of us living in the mission home had a basketball team (and invited one New Zealander to play with as a sub). On occasion, President Cowley walked to the YMCA to watch the missionaries play. One night, he was sitting up in the balcony, heckling the missionaries rather vigorously. “Throw the ball to Elder So-and-so, he’ll fumble it,” or “Don’t give it to Elder So-and-so, he won’t know what to do.” After he had enjoyed heckling for period of time. A couple of young but large Maori men walked to over to him and said, “Mr., we don’t know you who are, but don’t you talk like that to those young men anymore. They’re Mormon missionaries out here performing missionary work. And they’re ministers. We’re not going to sit here and allow you to ridicule them or talk like that to them anymore!” President Cowley immediately quit heckling and returned home. He told us later that he didn’t think he would attend anymore basketball games, that they were too dangerous for him.

            President Cowley never rarely slept more than about four hours a night. Consequently, he often took a walk down Queen Street to the theater to have a good snooze. All the theater employees knew him and rarely charged him. Sometimes he saw the same show two time a week, but his purpose was not to see the show but to get a rest.

             We engaged in a rather extensive project, painting the second floor of the mission home. One of the missionaries was not to bright and painted a couple of doorknobs. As we continued our project down the hall, we suddenly heard President Cowley yell out in a loud voice, “Somebody owes me new suit. I just got paint all over it!” Immediately, the missionaries cleaned up the doorknobs and repented of that particular senseless mistake.

            Another project we were given was that of tithing the one bathroom in the mission home, which was also on the second floor. Elder Bodell had been a tile setter prior to his mission and supervised the project. It was decided that all the missionaries. Under his direction, would put tile on the walls around the entire bathroom. He was by far the largest and strongest missionary physically. However, all he did was put the tile up one or two at a time, while the rest of us mixed outside, carried it though the house and up the stairs for his use.  We had a great time doing all the tile work, and the Cowleys were delighted at how well it turned out.

            President Cowley loved to cook, especially breakfast while we held our early morning study class. We read out loud so that he could participate. If we said a word wrong misinterpreted something, he would correct us from the kitchen and thus add to our study.

            One morning which we shall never forget was the morning we slept in. it was the only time I recall Matthew Cowley ever getting angry. He went into the bedroom of two elders and shook the bed to wake them up. Those of us in the two other bedrooms needed no further warning. We were downstairs ready for study class in less than a minute. Brother Cowley had a very even temperament and rarely showed anger. But that morning, he was distressed for some reason and let us know he was capable of getting very upset.

            President Cowley had an interesting way of telling jokes and stories. During the course of the day, he told us stories in which the end was always unusual and maybe not very proper in Sunday School. Of course, they were nothing vulgar but a little different than what people were used to. Then at the supper table in the evenings, he would tell the same stories and change the ending to something a little more appropriate and less humorous. We laughed because we knew what he was telling us, even though Sister Cowley always said she didn’t see anything funny with them and why did he tell those crazy stories? It was his unique way of carrying on our supper table conversations.

            President Cowley loved to read. He often walked down the main street of Auckland to the bookstores that sold used books and buy a dozen or more books; and I doubt he ever paid more than a schilling for any book for magazine. His reading habits were wonderful. He was the first and best reader I ever knew. And he retained almost everything he read. He often gave us a book report on a rather fascinating book he felt we should know about and understand.

            On one occasion, while traveling with President Cowley to Tahoraiti (Dannevirke), we stopped in Palmerston North to see one of our Maori brothers who taught music. When he heard when we were going, Brother Wi Pere Amaru asked to go along. Before leaving the city, President Cowley went to the post office and sent a telegram to Sister Polly Duncan which said, “Kill the fatted calf; we’ll be there for supper—signed Cowley, Rudd, and Amaru.” When we arrived, she had a great banquet prepared with chop suey and about five other things that she knew Tumuaki enjoyed. He never refused to let people do thing for him. As a result, everybody loved him. Later on that same trip, we arrived at the home of Stuart Meha, where we had an interesting and wonderful afternoon and evening. (See attached talk, “Keeping the Gospel Simple,” pages 6-8.)

            President Cowley had to perform a rather unfortunate and sad duty regarding a wayward missionary. By invitation, I grabbed my briefcase, which was always ready, and rushed to the car. President Cowley seemed very pensive on that occasion. He hardly spoke during the first full day of driving over the mountains to Hawkes Bay. I wondered what was wrong but didn’t say very much. We travelled over a very dangerous, winding highway known as Taupo Road, over the mountain between Taupo and Napier. As we drove along the rather narrow road and rounded a curve, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the road; and before President Cowley could switch back into the proper lane, we were hit by another car.

The only thing President Cowley said was, “Don’t say a word!” So I said nothing. Our car was still on wrong side of the road, and it was obvious that it was our fault. The other driver was really upset and began to chew us out, call us names, threaten us, and say a lot of dumb things.

            Finally, President Cowley was able to say something, and the man recognized that he was an American. He began to spout off about Americans. He said, “You come over here to our country; and when someone like me wants to drive around and see the scenery, we have to worry about people getting in our way.”

            Immediately, President Cowley said, “you mean you weren’t looking where you were going, you were looking at the scenery? At least I looked where I was agoing. I admit I was wrong, but I knew where I was. Evidently, you were sightseeing and where just lucky to have someone to hit into.” 

            The poor guy just wilted. He knew he was completely beaten. He looked our car over and said, “well, I guess we were both wrong, so I’ll go on my way and pay for my own, and you pay for yours.” We got back in the car and drove away.

            Nothing more was said for several minutes. Finally, President Cowley said, “Well, we got out of that pretty good, didn’t we?” The car wasn’t hurt too badly but still needed to repaired.

            The next morning, as we continued on toward Wellington about six hours away, President Cowley began talking more than he had the previous day. He had prayed, when he was made a missionary president, the he would never have to dishonorably release a missionary; and he had been successful so far. But this morning, because of a serious infraction of mission and Church rules, his sad duty was to dishonorably release a missionary and send him home.

            When we arrived at the elders’ home in Wellington, I spent an hour with the other elders while the elder in trouble drove away with President Cowley was visibly distressed. I was told to contact Headquarters and get a ticket on the next boat for the elder to return home. We all loved the missionary and felt sorrowful with what happened. To ease the strain of such a painful duty, President Cowley said to me, “Let’s go fishing.” We made our way to the wharf and got tickets to sail over to D’Urville Island. (See attached article, “You Go First.”)

            One of President Cowley’s “favorite” missionaries was Elder David M. Evans, who had a very interesting personality. He was assigned as the senior elder in an area with headquarters in Huntley, about a hundred miles south of Auckland. For some reason, Dave had a hard time staying in his district. Quite frequently, he showed up in Auckland to visit the mission home. Every time he walked in, President Cowley’s blood pressure went up. He would continually get after Dave about leaving the district and would hear the usual alibi as to why Dave was there. Despite the constant instruction not to leave his district, it never did a bit of good. Dave continued to show up, and Brother Cowley finally gave up trying to change him.

            One day, President Cowley asked me to go with him to a funeral in Onehunga, a suburb of Auckland, where about forty members of the branch gathered. He asked me to speak, after which he made the main speech of the day. This Maori funeral was an interesting event.

            In 1940, when the First Presidency called the missionaries home because of the war, we had one week to gather all the missionaries to headquarters to catch the Mariposa. It was a hectic week, but we managed to get everyone into Auckland on time, including the last group of missionaries from Australia, who sailed into New Zealand for a one-day layover. That particular day, we had another funeral; and President Cowley requested that about five of them accompany us to the funeral. They were astounded at the things we did, which not only included speaking, praying and singing, but also assisting in the actual burial of the deceased. One of the missionaries said, “I think I did more real missionary work today than I did in the whole two years in Australia.”

            The Sunday before we were to leave, President Cowley wanted to hold meetings al day. Priesthood meeting was with just the missionaries, during which he spoke with great tenderness. He hated to see us go home. “Up to now,” he said, “I have been your mission president; but next time I see you, I’ll just be your friend. If any of you have any legal problems or run into difficulty, be sure to call on me. As a friend, I would love to help you.” He also reminded us to be active in civic affairs and politics, at least enough to know what was going on. He gave excellent instructions on honoring our priesthood and serving the Lord.

            The rest of the meetings that day were attended by more than five hundred saints, who came to bid the missionaries farewell. Every missionary was called upon to give a short talk in at least one of the meetings.

            When the day arrived to leave on the Mariposa, as we left the mission home, we shook President Cowley’s hand and bid farewell. My companion and I, who were the secretaries of the mission, were two of the last to leave. Brother Cowley, however, did not follow us down to the boat. He was “to busy vacuuming” the carpets in the mission home, which he had been doing for the last hour, and just couldn’t quit. How lonely he seemed, as we walked away. He was a very tender man. He enjoyed having missionaries around, and he truly loved them.

            President Cowley (along with the other mission presidents in the Islands) stayed on. He wrote me on occasion to bring me up to date on what was happening in the mission. In one letter he said, “I now know what was wrong with our mission, why we didn’t do very well and baptize very many. It was you missionaries. You were the ones who were holding up the work. Now that you’re gone, local missionaries and local people are doing better than ever. Tithing and fast offerings have greatly increased, activity in the Church has grown, and I am now convinced where our problem was.” This was part of President Cowley’s humorous way of expressing himself.

            In Matthew Cowley’s patriarchal blessing, he was promised that he would never get motion sickness. This turned out to be a tremendous blessing for him, because he travelled on all kinds of boats, ships, small airplanes, etc. once, he left on a ship from Samoa which did not allow passengers. He talked the captain into letting him sign as a member of the crew, perhaps the chaplain. When they went to bed on Saturday night, they crossed the dateline and it was Monday instead of Sunday. So he never did much work as a crew member on that ship.

            Another trip was taken on a converted submarine chaser. The weather was terrible and the ocean was rough. Of that trip, Brother Cowley said that “the submarine chaser does everything but turn a double back summersault with a half twist. I expected it to go down at any time to start chasing subs.” On the deck, there were 110 pigs, 1,000 chickens and several other animals enclosed. In addition, there were 38 native saints and Brother Cowley, their mission president; and everyone was seasick but him. He said some of the dark-skinned natice almost turned white because of seasickness—“not a snow white or lily white, but a greenish-yellow tinted white.” He continued, “Tahiti is probably the only place on earth where the roosters crow all night, pigs squeal, roosters crow, hens squawk, natives retch—this was a symphony I will long remember.”

            He did not take his clothes off for six days. Everyone was sick, things were unsanitary, and he was unable to eat food. There happened to be a large shipment of oranges on board, so he became “a guinea pig for vitamin C.” he concluded by says, “This converted submarine chaser made me wonder if it had ever had really been converted.

            One of our missionary buddies had been home for several years and had not yet found a wife. One day, President Cowley phoned me and said he had found a wife for Elder Crandall, that she was working in the Church Office Building and was beautiful. He wanted to set up a blind date for them. Fortunately, we were all able to get involved, and she and Crandall have now been married for close to fifty years. President Cowley was a great matchmaker, not only on this occasion, but on many others, particularly in New Zealand.

Before an Apostle

            When President and Sister Cowley returned home, he needed a job. He was not anxious to practice law. Sterling W. Sill was the head man over his New Life Insurance agency and offered Brother Cowley a job a at fairly good monthly salary if he would just represent the company and speak at different meetings. He didn’t really want Brother Cowley to sell insurance; he just wanted a good speaker who could represent the company. The job offer didn’t set well with Brother Cowley, so he didn’t take it.

            Brother Cowley didn’t know at the time he was called to be an apostle that Senator Elbert D. Thomas from Utah and a very close friend to President Harry S. Truman was working on the proposition that Matthew Cowley be called by the U.S Government to represent the United States in the New Zealand Consulate. It would have been a great assignment for Brother Cowley and he, no doubt, would have accepted, except that the Lord had other plans. Instead, President George Albert Smith called him to be an apostle.

            Brother Cowley was not the least bit interested in ruining for political office, but he had great respect for Senator reed Smoot, for whom he had worked as a young man while attending law school. In Brothers Cowley’s last talk on 4 October 1953, he spoke mainly about prayer. When it was over, he said to me: “I would have liked to have told the Saints about the many times into the office of Senator Reed Smooth in Washington D.C and found him on his knees. He was truly a great man and prayed constantly over the problems he had. If I were to mention in my talk of his name and his prayerful efforts, someone would have accused me of politics.”

            Brother Cowley had a hard time securing a car. Finally, Grant Hayes, the “Studebaker Man,” came to his rescue and got him a fine automatic.

An Apostle

            Not long after Brother Cowley became a member of the Twelve, he was assigned to attend a stake conference in Berkeley, California. He insisted that I go with him on that trip. He didn’t tell me that he had contacted a member of the stake presidency, who was an outstanding medical doctor, to give me a thorough medical examination. This wonderful doctor, Dr. Emery Ranker, was a convert to the Church and was recognize as one of the great doctors in the Bay area.

            I spent more than two hours being examined by Dr. Ranker. He wanted to see if he could solve the migraine headache problem. It was one of the best exams I have ever had, but the headaches stayed on. Incidentally, Elder Cowley, through the holy priesthood, blessed hundreds and hundreds of people who were made well. On occasion, he blessed me for migraine headaches, but with little result. I guess I did not have the faith to be cured.

            However, while travelling with President Harold B. Lee on one occasion, he told me he thought he knew why I had headaches. He said that it was the Lord’s way of keeping me under controlling and subduing me a little bit. He said that if I didn’t have these headaches, I may not be much good to the Church. So they’ve had a good effect on me.

            When I was in the business of selling baby chicks, early one morning several boxes of chicks arrived, which I was to deliver to American Fork. Since Elder Cowley was to speak at BYU that morning, he invited me to go alone, and deliver the chicks on the way. When we arrived in American Fork and began carrying in the boxes of baby chicks, the lady of the house almost fainted when she realized that a member of the Qurum of the Twelve was delivering baby chicks to her. Just one of those little things that seemed to happen quite frequently.

            Elder Cowley loved to stop by the poultry processing plant which I owned. In the front by the office was a deep freeze, and we generally filled it with Snelly’s ice cream bars, which were bought by the dozen. He often stopped in to pick up a couple of Snellys, hop back into the car and be on his way. One day, while on his way to Provo with a cartload of men, he stopped long enough to get Snellys for everyone, then waved goodbye to us as he went on his way.

            Warren S. Ottley and I were invited to travel with Elder Cowley to a stake conference in the St. George Tabernacle, during which he called upon us to speak. Then, during his talk, he told the congregation that Brother Ottley was in the paint business and if anyone needed paint, they should order it today—and that I was in the baby chick business and if anyone needed baby chicks, they should order them today, inasmuch as he would receive a commission on anything that was sold during stake conference.

            I was with Elder Cowley in a café in Evanston, Wyoming, and there was a slot machine in there which attracted me. I went and looked it over, then reached into my pocket for a quarter. While I was standing there, he come over and said, “Here, here’s a quarter. Invest it for me. He had a similar attraction but had more courage than to gamble because he was so well known and had schooled himself not to do that sort of thing.

            Elder Cowley had a number of boyhood friends who, for some reason or other, were engaged in drinking. His father had told him as a boy that he (his father) was an alcoholic who never drank. He told Matthew that he was confident that he also was an alcoholic; and he made him promise to be very careful not to begin to drink. If he did, if would probably ruin his life.