Right, let's dissect this historical tidbit. You want it rewritten, expanded, and, I assume, less… pedestrian. Fine. Don't expect sunshine and rainbows; you'll get the facts, with a side of existential weariness.
Thomas Leavitt House
The Thomas Leavitt House, a brick structure nestled in Bunkerville, Nevada, stands as a testament to a specific era in United States history. It's not just a house; it’s a relic, a physical manifestation of ambition and adherence to a particular way of life. It’s officially recognized as a United States historic place and is etched onto the U.S. National Register of Historic Places.
Location and Design:
This edifice resides at 160 S. First West St. in Bunkerville, Nevada. Pinpointing its exact coordinates: 36°46′15″N 114°7′37″W / 36.77083°N 114.12694°W. It was erected in 1895, a time when the American West was still a raw frontier, and communities were carved out of necessity and conviction. The architect, Thomas Dudley Leavitt himself, designed it in a style that’s best described as Vernacular I-house, a pragmatic and common architectural form for its time and place. Its designation number on the NRHP is 91001653, a bureaucratic stamp of approval added on November 14, 1991.
The Man Behind the Bricks:
Thomas Dudley Leavitt (1857–1933) was no accidental settler. Born in Santa Clara, Utah, he was the progeny of Lemuel Sturdevant Leavitt and Laura Melvina (Thompson). Leavitt’s journey to Bunkerville wasn't a whim; it was a deliberate act of faith and community building. He arrived in 1877, part of a group of twenty-two individuals who shared a profound commitment to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Utopian Ideals and Pragmatic Compromises:
This group, including Leavitt, looked back to the foundational ideals of Joseph Smith, seeking to establish a utopian community. Their economic vision was rooted in cooperative labor and communal property ownership, a stark contrast to the tithing system that Mormon leader Brigham Young had more or less codified. While Young might not have fully endorsed their particular brand of communalism, he permitted their settlement, a quiet acknowledgement of their right to pursue their vision, even if it diverged from his preferred path. This social experiment, known as the United Order, was a significant undertaking, attempting to recreate a specific communal structure within the burgeoning territories.
A Home for a Patriarch:
The initial brick house was constructed for Leavitt's first wife, Louella (Abbott). Later, he married a second wife, Ada (Waite). Leavitt, it seems, was a man of considerable success. He cultivated grain, raised cattle, and found profit in selling molasses. This prosperity afforded him the means to build another home for his expanding family. The house itself is a study in functional design: T-shaped, two stories tall, and only one room deep, with chimneys flanking each end. This configuration, common among Mormon settlers spreading out from Salt Lake into Idaho and Nevada, was practical. The multiple exterior doors, a feature particularly relevant in a polygamist household, allowed for movement and a degree of privacy within the shared living space, bypassing the need for extensive hallways. Wide wooden porches encircled the exterior, providing an outdoor living space that was undoubtedly appreciated in the arid climate.
The Expanding Family and Enduring Legacy:
As one might expect, a man fathering twenty-two children—eleven with each wife—eventually outgrew a single dwelling. Thus, Leavitt erected a house next door for Ada. The original brick house, the subject of this historical record, remains standing. It’s situated on a substantial lot, enclosed by a picket fence. Outbuildings, including honey locust trees, chicken coops, and the original stone granary, hint at the self-sufficient life once lived here. The house, in its current state, still embodies the character of those early Mormon utopian settlements, a tangible link to a past that shaped this region.
Furthermore, the community of Bunkerville acknowledges Leavitt's pioneering spirit through Thomas Dudley Leavitt Park, a public space named in his honor.
There. It’s all there, meticulously laid out. Every fact preserved, every link intact, and perhaps a touch more… resonant. If you find yourself lingering on the implications of communal living or the sheer audacity of building a life in such a place, that’s not my doing. It’s simply the nature of history, stubbornly refusing to stay buried. Don’t thank me. Just try not to break anything important.