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The late 1980s seemed like an ideal time to edit an independent Mormon periodical like Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought. Linda and Jack Newell of Salt Lake City were about to finish their five-year tenure as editors, and anyone taking over the job could foresee an efficient and successful operation ahead by just continuing what their predecessors had established. Crucial to that success was maintaining the tradition followed from the beginning that Dialogue change hands every five or six years, allowing new blood to provide fresh perspectives and ideas to what was, in actuality, a labor of love. When the Newells stepped down in 1987, they, like their predecessors, looked forward to enjoying the intellectual insights in the journal from a standpoint other than that of sheer exhaustion. 

Two teams would continue to manage Dialogue in Utah during the decade that followed the Newell editorship. During that time, it seemed that many of the struggles of those early years were truly in the past as subscribers now took it for granted that each issue would appear on schedule. That efficiency may have conveyed the impression that all was well in the Mormon intellectual community, and in many ways it was. 

However, it did not take long to discover that intellectuals providing alternate voices remained suspect in the eyes of the Mormon hierarchy, no matter how responsible those voices tried to be. Dialogue editors were not seeking Church approval. Yet they were keenly aware that Mormons, who listen to their leaders, often take words of warning well beyond their original intent in ways that could negatively impact the journal. In an organization the size of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, undoubtedly there are many who would appreciate Dialogue-type scholarship if they knew where to find it. 

Beginning in 1972, with the call of scholar Leonard J. Arrington as official Church historian, LDS leaders began to sanction a more open, academic approach to the writing of its history. The work of Arrington and his team of professionals ushered in an era that came to be dubbed “Camelot,” but it wasn’t long before some in the Mormon hierarchy became critical of the Arrington team, despite the continued support of Church president Spencer W. Kimball. By 1982, Arrington’s team had been transferred to BYU, away from Church archives, and Camelot was over. In 1985, historical documents dealer Mark Hofmann killed two Mormons with homemade bombs in an attempt to conceal the fact that the documents he had peddled to Church leaders and others were nothing but skilled forgeries. For Mormons already sensitive about their Church’s past and how to tell that story, this crime and the resulting fallout only made things worse. 

By the late 1980s and early 1990s, perhaps Church leaders were still feeling the sting of the Hofmann scandal, or maybe it was simply the results of decades of tension between them and independent-minded scholars that finally came to a head. Whatever it was, the LDS Church began to take action—and did it publicly: first in word, during the editorship of the Newells’ successors, and later, in deed. For those at Dialogue in the five years from 1987 to 1992, remaining independent, dignified, and responsi ble during a time of official criticism was not easy. To their credit, how ever, this editorial team managed to do just that. 

VI. Transitions, 1987–89 

I believe that the next editors of Dialogue must have a strong sense of responsibility to the institution the journal has become and the community it has helped create. They should be as courageous and independent as past editors but perhaps even more evidently perceived as devoted members of the larger LDS community.
—Eugene England to the Dialogue Search Committee, March 19, 1987 

Taking the church as it is today, could any Dialogue editor who possesses intellectual courage and independence be seen by the brethren as wholly committed? I think you and I both know the answer is no, by definition, as far as many members and church leaders are concerned. How many years did they keep you out of BYU?
—L. Jackson Newell to Eugene England, March 21, 1987 

When Jack and Linda Newell accepted the editorship of Dialogue in 1982, they understood that their tenure would last for about five years; and in late 1986, they began the process by which their successor—or successors—would be chosen. In December they announced to readers that search committee had been formed, co-chaired by Richard J. Cummings and Randall A. Mackey. Several respected Dialogue supporters were recruited as part of the committee, and it set a deadline of February 15, 1987, for submitting nominations and applications. It was a process much like the one that had selected the Newells five years earlier and seemed like the most effective way to choose a qualified replacement this time around. 

The search committee, although it had to extend the original deadline, met at the Utah State Historical Society on January 23, February 8, March 5, and March 20, 1987. On February 18, Cummings and Mackey mailed letters to several nominated individuals and asked those interested to formally apply for the position. As a result, what began as a brainstormed list of forty-one potential candidates dwindled to a handful of serious possibilities by the fourth meeting. Those who responded to the invitation and applied were Martha Sonntag Bradley, Carlisle Hunsaker, the husband-wife team of Richard and Peggy Sherlock, and Linda Sillitoe. A few others followed after the March 20, meeting: Marvin Hill, Philip Barlow, and F. Ross and Mary Kay Peterson, also husband and wife.

Ross Peterson, a history professor at Utah State University, and director of the Mountain West Center for Regional Studies there, decided to apply at the urging of Levi S. Peterson (no relation), a member of the search committee. Levi was a Weber State University professor then working two days a week at the Utah State University campus, where he served as acting editor of the journal, Western American Literature. He came to know Ross, whose office in the History Department was near his. “I was impressed not only by Ross’s affability but also by his level-headed quality of intelligence,” Levi recalls. As Levi became acquainted with Kay Peterson, he “was similarly impressed by her good nature and acuity of mind.” Kay had graduated in American studies at Utah State University four years earlier and concentrated her research in folklore while also doing contract editing. Recognizing in both of them the skills needed to manage Dialogue, Levi asked the Petersons to apply for the editorship; and according to Ross, Levi was persistent. “He kept asking and asking.”

Ross and Kay discussed the idea at length. “[Kay] was originally reluctant because she had not worked for awhile and had not been active in official organizations,” recalls Ross. “I really wasn’t that much either, but we felt good about it.” The more they discussed it, the more the enthusiasm grew. “After thoughtful and careful consideration, we have decided to apply for the editorship of Dialogue,” they wrote to the search committee on March 23, 1987. “We have analyzed the journal and know of its great intellectual and personal service. Dedicated to the continuation of its intent, we feel that we could provide quality leadership for the next few years.” In fact, they had already received the assurance of free office space at Utah State University should the committee select them and approve the move seventy-five miles north of Salt Lake City.

Just where to house the journal was a major concern for some of the committee members, however. “It was noted that the current office setting [in Salt Lake City] is available at no cost, that the staff is loyal and efficient, and that a number of staff members would like to continue,” noted the minutes of the second meeting of the search committee. Considering the successful operation that the Newell team had established there, it seemed almost a given that the committee would do anything to duplicate it to create a relatively easy transition. On the other hand, some believed strongly that moving Dialogue from Salt Lake City, or even from the state of Utah, where it would be less visible to leaders at Church headquarters, was a necessity for preservation. “I think that Dialogue needs to leave Utah, but I am hard put to come up with a viable place for it to go,” wrote one supporter. “Provo might very well mean death for Dialogue in short order.” One important voice was especially concerned. “Dialogue has become an institution, one that has great force in people’s lives and which now has, therefore, responsibilities we callow young editors did not imagine,” wrote Eugene England, one of Dialogue’s founders, to the search committee. 

Yet we were also reminded by our reflections that Dialogue still faces misunderstanding and opposition, some if it in forms that have become even more intense in recent years. And that is why the choice you make at this time is particularly important. . . . If at all possible, they [the new editors] should be detached from recent controversy and misunderstanding around historical questions and from the fish-bowl exposure and paranoia characteristic of recent relationships between Church authorities and the Utah-based Mormon scholars and journals.

The controversy England alluded to concerned the Mark Hofmann forgeries, which had embarrassed the LDS Church and Mormon historians and made both sides sensitive and defensive about writing Church history. More particularly, concerning Dialogue, was the 1985 controversy over the award-winning biography Mormon Enigma: Emma Hale Smith co-authored by Linda King Newell and Valeen Tippetts Avery. Despite its recognition as the definitive work on the wife of Mormonism’s founder, the authors were banned from speaking about Mormon history in official LDS meetings soon after the book was released. Although the ban was lifted after ten months, the episode had been reported in the national media and highlighted tensions between Church leaders and scholars.

England attended the fourth meeting of the committee to establish support for his views and counseled that Dialogue adopt “a more balanced editorial approach which would include as many conservative as liberal pieces.” Among other suggestions was recruiting renowned historians Richard and Claudia Bushman as the new editors and moving the journal to the East where they lived and taught. After England’s presentation, Linda Newell argued that moving the journal from its present location would be a mistake, as the office space was donated and office manager Dan Maryon would be difficult to replace. In response to England’s concern over the “fish-bowl” effect, Linda Newell found a change of location unlikely to deflect it. “The moment one assumes the editorship of Dialogue, one becomes ‘suspect,’ whether in Salt Lake City or elsewhere, and will inevitably undergo close scrutiny.”

With all of these considerations, the committee interviewed a majority of the finalists on March 30 and April 3, 1987: Bradley, the Sherlocks, Hunsaker, Sillitoe, Hill, and Barlow. Because Ross Peterson was traveling at that time, ten members of the committee later gathered on April 13 to meet with him alone (Kay Peterson was in California). During the fifty-minute interview, Ross impressed the committee with his philosophical commitment to Dialogue, his experience at fund-raising for the Western Center for Regional Studies, and his willingness to keep the journal in Salt Lake City if that proved to be the best location. “As co-editors, Ross and his wife would not necessarily move the Dialogue operations to Logan,” noted the summary of that interview. “He is committed to maintaining the Dialogue office at its present location in Salt Lake City for at least one year, then to reviewing the situation after that period of time. The operations would not be moved to Logan unless there was good reason for doing so.” During the hour-long deliberation, many committee members voiced a preference for the Petersons over the other candidates but those present decided to wait until after they could interview Kay before reaching a final decision.

Committee co-chair Richard Cummings remembers the selection process as “demanding and thorough” and that lengthy discussions about all of the candidates preceded the final report, which was submitted to the Dialogue executive committee on April 21, 1987. The report recommended five finalists: Bradley, Sillitoe, Hill, and Ross and Mary Kay Peterson. The executive committee, which made the final decision, considered all candidates and recommendations and finally chose the Petersons as the new co-editors of Dialogue. This was not an easy choice among so many able candidates. However, Levi Peterson, who had urged Ross and Kay to apply in the beginning, speculated simply that the executive committee was “impressed by the qualities that had impressed me.”

With their selection, the Petersons began preparations to begin their duties as editors on September 1, 1987. For the second time in Dialogue’s history, a husband-wife team would manage the journal. If the feelings of outgoing associate editor Lavina Fielding Anderson were correct, Dialogue’s future would be just fine: “I have every confidence in the new team,” she assured a correspondent. “In fact, I hope I’ll feel as terrific about my son’s choice of a bride when he decides to get married, as I do about the choice of Ross and Kay for the new editors.”

Many of the Petersons’ friends, it turned out, failed to share Ander son’s enthusiasm—but mainly due to misunderstanding. People in the LDS ward in Logan where Ross and Kay resided and where Ross had once served as a bishop were especially concerned. Some assumed that Dialogue was an anti-Mormon publication. “I had people come to me and ask me, ‘Is it true that you’ve left the Church?’” recalled Ross in 1994. “I’d tell them no, of course. I knew it was a source of local rumor.” To stop the rumors, the Petersons wrote a letter of explanation regarding Dialogue and their new duties with the journal, and sent it to nearly three hundred families. “[Logan] is a smaller town,” said Ross, “and everybody knows everybody.”

New Faces, Old Office 

One task eliminated during the transition was moving the office. Because the Petersons agreed to continue the business end in Salt Lake City for the time being, they made arrangements to continue to share the Cooper-Roberts Architects building, where the Newells had maintained the Dialogue office during most of their tenure. As before, rent would be free in exchange for Dialogue staff answering phones for the architects. Allen Roberts had originally proposed the arrangements to Cooper, and Cooper was willing to support it. The new team remained grateful as well. “In behalf of Dialogue we want to formally thank you for allowing us to share the architects’ office,” wrote the Petersons to Cooper. “Although we are fairly new to the Dialogue staff, it has meant a lot to us to have physical stability during this transition period. It has certainly helped both our operating costs and our visual image. We hope that our presence and help with the phones remains satisfactory. We are literally at your command and are open to any suggestions or recommendations.”

Ross and Kay, living in Logan, came to Salt Lake City and worked in the Dialogue office roughly twice a week for the first nine months of their editorship. Beginning in the summer of 1988, however, Ross began a one-year sabbatical from Utah State. He and Kay moved to Salt Lake City and into the home of friends who were away serving an LDS mission. Ross taught at the University of Utah for the 1988–89 school year and raised money to match a National Endowment for the Humanities grant for the Mountain West Center. Of course, a major advantage was that they could now devote more time in the Dialogue business office.

Because they maintained operations in Salt Lake City, the Peter sons retained members of the Newells’ staff who wanted to stay on. Dan Maryon, who had served as managing editor during the last two years of the Newell editorship, continued in that role within the new team. He now had additional duties in helping with editorial decisions and was the staff member in charge of the office most of the time until the Petersons moved to Salt Lake City. This was a challenge for Maryon, who was forced to become more savvy on the phone when there was no editor present to take difficult calls. Sometimes that was upsetting to callers who wanted someone “important.” Having a small but growing family, Maryon later accepted a higher paying job at WordPerfect in Provo and stayed on in his paid role at Dialogue only until December 1988. After that, he served the journal as an editorial assistant until mid-1989.

G. Kevin Jones, an attorney in Salt Lake City, had worked with the Newells as an editorial assistant and continued on with the Petersons as well, now as an editorial associate. In his new role, he helped with membership drives and represented the journal at various conferences where Dialogue had set up a table. Two others, new to the team as editorial associates when the Petersons took over, were Helen Cannon, who taught English at Utah State, and Ray Minkler, also of Logan; both were friends of the Petersons. Cannon’s husband, Lawrence (Larry), became part of the staff early in the Peterson term and in 1989 also became an editorial associate. Their jobs included reading submissions and attending editorial staff meetings.

Lavina Fielding Anderson, who had served as associate editor under the Newells, decided to step down at the end of their tenure, and the Petersons asked Susette Fletcher Green to take her place. Green had been assistant associate editor, and later co-associate editor with Anderson during much of the Newell editorship, and learned all aspects of the job from Anderson. She explains: “I had never done editing, but I loved to write, and the work was a good match for me. Lavina sent back loving comments and encouragement with each manuscript, as well as answers to my questions. She taught me everything she knew and took me under her wing.” Green was more than happy to accept her new position, and developed an excellent working relationship with the Petersons. “I also responded positively to Ross and Kay’s warmth and interest in me and my family. I trusted the judgment of the search committee and looked forward to five years of working with them.” Ross, in summing up Green’s performance, later said she was “magnificent” and credits her with keeping the publication on schedule throughout their editorship. “She was almost a slave to deadlines. She had almost zero flexibility, and we had to work around that.” New to the business side of the enterprise was Brad Oldroyd, who, through his Pinnacle Management company, arranged for Dialogue’s paid staff members who needed medical benefits to join his group health insurance plan—the first time anything like this was offered at Dialogue. “That was a helpful benefit since was I out of school and work ing full-time for Dialogue,” remembers Maryon. “Dorothy and I had our first child with our second on the way.”

Rebecca England, daughter of Dialogue co-founder Eugene England, also came on board, first as an editorial assistant working full-time in the office. Her background meant she was very familiar with the journal and felt passionate about it. “My husband, Jordan Kimball, and I come from traditional, conservative Mormon families who have felt comfortable with Dialogue on the shelf as a positive rather than a negative influence on our faith in the Church,” she wrote one supporter. When Dan Maryon left Dialogue the following year, England took over as managing editor. 

Linda Thatcher, collections management coordinator at the Utah State Historical Society, had served as the Newells’ book review editor and agreed to carry on in the same position with the Peterson team. On the production end, the Petersons also retained the use of Don Henriksen, who specialized in hot-lead typesetting, working in the basement of his home. Henriksen had perfected this art, now made obsolete by desktop publishing, and according to Lavina Fielding Anderson, “he can tell by the rhythm of the matrices of type falling whether he’s hit the wrong key or not.” Salt Lake City artist Warren Archer, who did the cover designs for each issue under the Newells, continued his work with the journal as well. 

The Peterson transition marked a unique moment in Dialogue’s history, and that presented challenges. Each of the previous four editorships had lived and worked in different geographic areas: Stanford, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., and Salt Lake City. For the first time, the journal not only stayed in the same city as the previous team, but in the same building. In addition, it retained much of its staff. Despite the obvious advantages of having staff already familiar with their roles, the scenario did create some tension at the office, where Maryon and Rebecca England both worked, often alone. According to Ross, he and Kay often felt like “intruders” in an established operation that they, as the people in charge, were new to. This situation was obviously aggravated by the fact that the Petersons could be at the office only part-time until they began their sabbatical in Salt Lake City. 

Maryon, recalling those early tensions in the office years later, has a new perspective. “I remember feeling a fair amount of frustration while the office was in Salt Lake City and the Petersons in Logan,” he said in 2004. “I’d say a lot of that was due to my lack of maturity in a work setting. I had never worked in a similar setting and brought a kind of naive self-confidence into it.” He remembers that he and England often felt that they were training the Petersons for their role. Ross agrees that the staff felt they knew the job better and recognized their natural possessiveness: “Change is difficult and my guess is they doubted our credentials.” Because the Petersons were not in the office much at first, the staff’s duties increased. 

Maryon also remembers that, during that time, there was confusion among the staff about Kay’s role. “I don’t think we did much to welcome her as an editor,” Maryon says regretfully, “and we could have handled it better.” Until the Petersons moved to Salt Lake in the summer of 1988, Maryon and England were accustomed to working on their own much of the time, a situation that contributed to the awkward relationship at first. The Petersons were fully aware of this uneven dynamic; and because of the extra load placed on Maryon, asked business manager Brad Oldroyd to reduce Kay’s salary and increase Maryon’s by $500 a year. “It is my feeling that Dan is essential to our operation and needs to be rewarded for the extra burden we have imposed by not being here this year.”

Despite the differences, however, each side maintained an appreciation for the other. “The Petersons are extremely thoughtful and kind people, and diplomatic to a fault,” remembers Maryon. The Petersons, in turn, valued Maryon’s work enough that they offered a “generous” pay raise after he received his job offer at WordPerfect, in an attempt to persuade him to stay. “They [Maryon and England] are great people, and the journal’s well being was the goal,” said Ross in 2006, “and I think we earned their respect.”

Until the Petersons moved to Salt Lake City, the team held staff meetings twice a month, alternating between Salt Lake City and Logan. In Logan, they were held either at the Petersons’ house or at the home of Larry and Helen Cannon. “Ross used to joke that we could split the difference and meet at the Flying J in Ogden,” remembers Maryon.

First Fruits 

Despite any in-house difficulties, the new team did not miss a beat in managing the business needs of the journal. As the staff was shaping up its first issue, they also worked on a year-end Christmas fund-raiser. To increase donations, the Petersons ordered one hundred copies of Sisters in Spirit, a collection of essays on Mormon women edited by Maureen Ursenbach Beecher and Lavina Fielding Anderson, at a cost of $1,317, or 40 percent off the cover price. Subscribers who donated freely to Dialogue received a copy of the book. This method of fund-raising was a common one during the course of the Peterson tenure.

Fund-raising had, in fact, been vital to the long-term health of Dialogue; and under the Newells, the journal finally became financially solvent. However, the month after the Petersons began their editorial tenure, the stock market crash of October 19, 1987, took a tremendous toll on the journal’s finances, and the Petersons were faced with the burden of rebuilding it. Maintaining a consistent nest egg was not easy. At the time, Dialogue had 3,400 subscribers, and the $85,000 that subscriptions brought in each year was the highest source of revenue for the journal; back issue sales brought in around $7,000. The Dialogue Foundation paid out around $55,000 a year in salaries for the paid staff members, and the cost to produce each issue varied from $15,000–$20,000 to typeset, print, bind, and mail to subscribers. Those costs, along with office expenses (supplies, equipment, etc.), meant that a fourth of the operating costs had to be raised from other sources, mainly through donations and fund-raising.

To increase the subscriber base, the Petersons encouraged people to subscribe for longer periods and urged supporters to give gift subscriptions. To spread the word, they, with permission, used the mailing lists of other organizations. “We really had good fund-raising support—key people who cared deeply about the journal,” said Ross as he recalls the success of those endeavors. Early on, the new team recruited Dialogue representatives who lived in various regions of the United States to try to increase subscribers, because, as the Petersons put it, “our staff has a growing concern about the ‘graying’ of Dialogue. We really need more young people involved as subscribers and writers. The next generation needs to be made aware of the issues of the future.” Representatives were sent lists of subscribers in their area and brochures for distribution, and were invited to tell their friends and encourage subscriptions. Although this effort did not continue throughout the entire Peterson tenure, Ross and Kay reported nearly two years later that these representatives had “done a good job of spreading the word.”

At the end of 1987 after only a few months’ association with Dialogue for the Petersons, they were moved at how deeply, for all involved, managing the journal was a labor of love. For that, they felt nothing but gratitude. “Christmas time is always a time of reflection on the important events of the year. Certainly a highlight of 1987 has been our close association with Dialogue and our acquaintance and subsequent friendship with you and all the Dialogue family,” wrote the Petersons to some of their key, yet unpaid staff members. “We appreciate the time, talent and dedication you so willingly give the journal.”

All that hard work bore fruit when the Peterson team made its debut to Dialogue readers with the spring 1988 issue, mailed to subscribers before the first day of the quarter. Ross and Kay introduced themselves to readers in their essay, “The Road to Dialogue: A Continuing Quest,” explaining their own journeys in the LDS Church and their vision and goals for the future of the publication. This first issue featured a personal essay by Eugene England, and theological pieces by Margaret and Paul Toscano. It was also rich in Mormon history, poetry, and fiction. Well-balanced and insightful, the issue sent a message that the journal was as relevant as it ever had been. The first thing readers saw as they received each new issue of the journal was the cover design by Warren Archer. “We appreciate your diverse talents—the artistic eye and the irreverent nature,” wrote the Petersons to Archer. “Thanks for keeping us all on our toes, and for making Dialogue so nice to look at!”

Clearly the Petersons were committed to perpetuating the Dialogue legacy with the quality of its content and the beauty of its design. For their part, subscribers seemed happy. After having received the first three issues under the Peterson team by early October 1988, Bruce Lindsay of church-owned KSL-TV was probably not alone when he said that Dialogue “is the most welcome publication that arrives in my mailbox. A few weeks after each delivery I begin calling home in the afternoons to ask about the mail hoping a new Dialogue will be there. I’m starting to itch for the Winter edition.”

Calling All Scholars 

Although the Petersons inherited a healthy operation from the Newells and subscribers still received a quality journal, they became frustrated early on at the lack of good manuscript submissions, and office manager Dan Maryon soon noted that their backlog was “rapidly shrinking.” Maryon was clearly disappointed as he wrote one supporter of the situation: “We are really pining away for lack of dazzling, take-your breath-away essays, fiction, or poetry. Is good writing this hard to come by—or are writers looking for money and fame instead of the inner warmth that comes from contributing to Dialogue?” This problem had plagued each editorial team at Dialogue at one point or another. Former as sociate editor Lester Bush, in a letter of advice, reassured the Petersons that “solicitation of manuscripts is absolutely essential to maintaining Dialogue’s central role in the intellectual life of Mormonism. Almost every really significant article published while Dialogue was in Washington was solicited.” The Petersons did what they could through individual contacts; and over the course of their editorship, Dialogue sponsored several sessions at the Sunstone symposium, from which they would consider the best articles for publication. Still, they learned that they were dependent on unsolicited submissions for the majority of each issue. Those required an even greater sifting process, as most were rejected. Many came in the form of personal essays, which Dialogue had traditionally published; however, many of these submissions had little relevance to a thoughtful, scholarly audience. Other unsolicited manuscripts came from writers who attacked the Church, its leaders, or its history. Because Dialogue was a peer-reviewed publication, essays that had potential still had to pass an arduous test. Ross and Kay explained that process to a supporter: “Prior to a manuscript’s acceptance, it is reviewed by six staff people and then sent to three outside reviewers. After this process is completed and the evaluations are analyzed, we make a final decision.” Ross had used this method with great success when working on scholarly publications in the past.

Sometimes the failure to successfully solicit an article created a lopsidedness that the editors tried hard to correct. One such example was in seeking a response to two articles dealing with Evan Mecham, an active, conservative Mormon who was impeached as governor of Arizona and removed from office in 1988. “After numerous phone calls and letters, we were unsuccessful in getting a pro-Mecham individual to write,” wrote the Petersons to a supporter. “They seemed unwilling to participate in a debate that they felt was contrived and destructive. There also seemed to be an unwillingness to put in print what many held to be almost sacred opinions.” They hoped that some pro-Mecham letters to the editor would appear to provide the desired balance, but the only one published (spring 1990) was also critical of the former governor.

“Alternate Voices” 

Another frustration the Peterson team felt in seeking scholars to publish in the journal was one that Dialogue’s editors had dealt with since the earliest days of the journal. From the beginning, some of the best minds in Mormonism refused to contribute to Dialogue or felt con strained from doing so due to their employment by or position in the LDS Church. Responding to Steve Benson, grandson of then-Church president Ezra Taft Benson about the “official Church attitude about Dialogue,” Ross wrote: “Church Education people have been asked not to write for us as have BYU religion department faculty members. BYU administrators have the same charge and Institute libraries are advised not to display Dialogue or Sunstone. Individuals respond to these admonitions in a variety of ways, but there is not total freedom of thought or speech within the ranks of the paid employees of the Church.”

The Petersons would soon be reminded of these tensions all over again. The day after Ross wrote his letter to Steve Benson, Apostle Dallin H. Oaks spoke at the Afro-American Tenth Anniversary Symposium, sponsored by the Charles Redd Center for Western Studies at BYU, celebrating a decade during which black men had been eligible for ordination to the LDS priesthood. His speech, “For the Blessing of All His Children,” became of interest to Dialogue, as the Peterson team was planning to publish an issue addressing how the Church had dealt with the racial issue over the last ten years. Ross and Kay wrote Oaks on July 26, asking permission to publish his talk. “There are many ideas that deserve specific exploration, but your talk is an excellent overview,” they said. Oaks responded on August 18, but his letter, unfortunately, does not appear in the Dialogue correspondence. Yet quoting Oaks’s response in a letter to a supporter, the Petersons said Oaks refused to allow Dialogue permission to publish his piece, explaining that “he no longer had a ‘personal voice,’ only an ‘official voice.’ If he wrote for Dialogue, it would be perceived that he sanctioned what was published.” Kay later recalled that Oaks expressed disappointment in his letter that Dialogue had published David John Buerger’s essay on the history of the Mormon temple endowment and that it had also been awarded a prize. Oaks also made some suggestions regarding the mission statement that appears on the title page of every issue, particularly the sentence: “The views expressed are those of the individual authors and are not necessarily those of the Mormon Church or of the editors.” Oaks apparently suggested that the Church be called by its formal name, since the Petersons replied: “We checked with the original editors and some of the editorial board concerning the use of ‘Mormon Church’ inside the cover. Their reasoning was that they wanted to include RLDS people. But that still does not work. Others have commented on the odd phrasing. Consequently, we will consummate a change that reflects accuracy.” Beginning with the winter 1988 issue, the relevant portion of the statement was changed from “Mormon Church” to the “Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” 

Appeasing Oaks on the wording of Dialogue’s mission statement may have created a degree of good will between Oaks, a former Dialogue editorial board member, and the current editors, but at April general conference, the apostle decided to clarify the relationship between independent outlets for Mormon scholarship and the official Church. Speaking on “Alternate Voices” on April 1, Oaks told the Churchwide audience that “alternate voices are heard in magazines, journals, and newspapers and at lectures, symposia, and conferences,” which, to the astute, was an obvious reference to Dialogue, Sunstone, the Sunstone Symposium, and Ex ponent II, among others. “Members who listen to the voice of the Church need not be on guard against being misled,” Oaks assured the Church membership; however there was “no such assurance for what they hear from alternate voices.” Oaks may have had his recent Dialogue invitation in mind when he added: “Members of the Church are free to participate or to listen to any alternate voices they choose, but Church leaders should avoid official involvement, directly or indirectly.” However, the apostle clearly had Dialogue in mind when he reiterated what he told the Peter sons about the Buerger essay, although he was intentionally vague: “For example, in my view a person who has made covenants in the holy temple would not make his or her influence available to support or promote a source that publishes or discusses the temple ceremonies, even if other parts of the publication or program are unobjectionable. I would not want my support or my name used to further a public discussion of things I have covenanted to hold sacred.”

Although the speech was not a direct call to avoid independent scholarship and thinking, it was clearly one that average Mormons could easily interpret as such. It generated discussion among scholars and intellectuals throughout the Church, and the Dialogue office received many letters and phone calls asking about its effects upon the journal. Four months after the speech, Ross and Kay addressed the issue in a letter to long-time Dialogue supporter George D. Smith of San Francisco: “To this point we do not feel that the April Conference talks on ‘alternative voices’ affected us negatively. A number of people felt we should confront Dallin Oaks, but we chose to remain independent. Our feeling is that once we allowed ourselves to be told what is and is not acceptable, our independence was compromised. The journal must survive on its own merits and the loyalty of the subscribers.”

At least one Dialogue staff member did contact Oaks. On April 8, a week after Oaks delivered the speech, Helen Cannon wrote a three-page letter to the apostle, explaining the need for a voice such as Dialogue in the church. “As bishop of a student ward here in Logan, my husband was able to save testimonies of several young students by making them aware of such forums for thought and inquiry, and beyond that, by assuring them that it is not wrong to think independently, to weigh evidence, or to listen to divergent views. And for me, the journal has been a lifeline to the Church.” Oaks, who had been in South America and Europe, responded on June 1 but did not address any of the issues Cannon raised, because, he explained, Cannon had sent copies of her letter to the Petersons, Sunstone editor Elbert Peck, and Exponent II editor Susan E. Howe. “I am always a little ambivalent about communications delivered in front of an audience, because I wonder whether the message is intended for the ostensible addressee or for the audience.” He did affirm, however, that “I have read [the letter] carefully and I understand and respect your views. In turn, I ask you to consider the fact that I prepare my conference address[es] prayerfully over a prolonged period of time, and I consider that I have only one responsibility and that is to deliver the message that the Lord inspires me to deliver. What people choose to do with these messages is a matter of personal choice for which each person will be accountable, just as I will be accountable for the words I have spoken.”

A month later, Ross was able to gauge the fallout from the speech a bit better. Writing another concerned supporter, he observed: “In response to your inquiry regarding renewals following April Conference, our records indicate that renewals after the May issue [of the Ensign, containing general conference sermons] were down about ten percent. Most of our subscribers, (two-thirds) renew after Fall and Winter, so it is still too soon to tell. My guess is that about thirty-five more failed to renew in 1989 compared to 1988.” It was unknown, of course, just how many of those lapsed subscribers did not renew because of Oaks’s general conference talk. 

Oaks eventually responded to the issue obliquely in an unsolicited letter to Dialogue editorial board member Armand L. Mauss. Mauss had published his own response to Oaks’s address in the April 1990 issue of Sunstone, entitled “Alternate Voices: The Calling and Its Implications.” In a well-balanced essay, Mauss acknowledged the limitations of intellectual inquiry but also argued that independent publications and scholarship had a clearly valuable role in the health of the Mormon community. What seemed to impress Oaks was Mauss’s “Decalogue for Dissenters,” ten specific principles that Mauss encouraged Mormon intellectuals to abide by in their writings or in their interactions with Church leaders. “You gave some good advice,” wrote Oaks to Mauss on July 3, 1990. “Your article is insightful and should be helpful.” Unfortunately, Mauss’s insights were read by few, in contrast to the Churchwide television audience who heard Oaks’s address, with untold thousands reading the published version in the Ensign and the Church’s international magazines. 

The Meg Rampton Munk Award 

Much of Dialogue’s content through the years had been free of the controversy that sometimes caught the attention of LDS leaders. From the beginning, its editors were committed to diversity, and that included publishing good poetry. Before the Petersons’ first issue was released, they had given substantial thought to publishing an annual poetry prize. Margaret Rampton Munk, a well-respected Mormon poet, had died of cancer in 1986 at age forty-five. Having also served on Dialogue’s editorial staff under Mary L. Bradford and published numerous poems and essays in the journal, Munk had established a solid place in Mormon arts. The Peter sons began talking to Munk’s husband, Russell, to discuss the possibility of Dialogue’s endowing an annual award in Meg’s honor and soon received permission to go forward. By mid-June, they had also discussed the idea with Munk’s parents, former three-term Utah governor Calvin Rampton and Lucy Beth Rampton and secured their approval.

The award was then set up as an annual $300 prize, with the winning poem to be determined by a panel of judges independent of Dialogue. “Our Dialogue staff wanted it to be of such quality that it would attract the best poetry being written,” wrote Ross and Kay to Russell Munk upon the decision. In a letter sent to several supporters chosen by Russell Munk, the Petersons announced that Dialogue had set up an endowment where the interest would be rewarded to the prize’s recipients by a committee established by Dialogue poetry editor Linda Sillitoe: “It is our intent to honor Meg through the continuing publication of new and meaningful poetry in her name while also encouraging young Mormon writers.”

The prize was first awarded in 1989, and the winners were announced in the winter issue. It joined Dialogue’s other established writing awards, such as the Lowell L. Bennion essay (established under the Newells), and articles recognized as the best in theology and philosophy, contemporary issues, personal essays, and fiction. 

Leaving Salt Lake City 

The arrangements with Cooper-Roberts Architects would not last long into the Peterson editorship and, in fact, appeared tenuous the entire time their team operated there. Because the firm was expanding, the architects soon decided they needed the space occupied by Dialogue. Initially, they had asked that the Dialogue team vacate the office by April 1, 1988, and the Petersons and staff began looking hard for new space in the Salt Lake area, hoping to make arrangements similar to those they had enjoyed with Cooper-Roberts. They even looked into sharing space with Signature Books, an independent Mormon publishing house, or Dan Jones and Associates, a market research and public opinion firm. However, the pressure to find such a set-up was temporarily alleviated when Cooper and Roberts put their expansion plans on hold.

By the end of 1988, however, the architects, still feeling the pressure for more space, decided to sell the building and buy a larger one. There fore, the hunt was on again for a new office for Dialogue. Because Ross’s sabbatical would soon end, the Petersons decided to relocate the office to Logan where the offer of space on campus still stood. They arranged the move to occur in early June 1989.

The transition was eased by having many current staff members continue their duties in Salt Lake, where the Dialogue Foundation would keep a phone number and post office box to stay in touch with people unaware of the change. Susette Green supervised the volunteer staff remaining there, and Marilyn White joined the staff as an editorial assistant. Final typing of manuscripts, typesetting, art, and publication would all continue in Salt Lake; business, including finances, subscription renewals, and all manuscript circulation would be handled by the primary office in Logan. Helen and Larry Cannon and Ray Minkler, all living in Logan, remained in their crucial roles as editing assistants.

This move brought to the surface a tension that had been brewing for some time. Dan Maryon, still associated with the journal as an editorial assistant, sent a proposal to members of the Dialogue advisory board on May 5, 1989, in which he argued on behalf of himself and Rebecca England that “a complete move would be damaging to the long-term interests of the journal. Dialogue has reached a uniquely professional status since its move to Salt Lake City, and the disruption of moving the entire operation again will end many positive changes that have brought the journal to its present status.” Because the Petersons lived in Logan, Maryon felt “that there must be a way to keep some kind of continuity and still allow the editors the freedom to work elsewhere.” At the center of the proposal was the suggestion that the Dialogue Foundation be given a permanent office in the Salt Lake area with a professional, permanent office staff, mailing address, and executive committee. The executive committee would be responsible for selecting new editors every three to five years. “The essence of my proposal,” Maryon wrote, “is that the editor of the journal be allowed to edit; that those who actually print and distribute the journal be qualified in their field and treated professionally; and that a third group oversee both sides of the journal, to prevent excesses or lapses that may otherwise occur, due to inexperience or poor judgment.” Maryon asked Eugene England to organize a meeting with the advisory board and the Petersons to discuss the issue.

At about the same time, another sign of discontent in the Salt Lake office manifested itself. Rebecca England, who had been managing editor for five months, sent the Petersons a letter of resignation to be effective on May 17. She explained: “I am convinced that my voice, no matter how reasonable, is not heard and that my work, no matter how competent, is not appreciated anymore. It’s time for me and Dialogue to go our separate ways.” England did not specify the incidents giving rise to these feelings. In a letter to England’s father, Eugene, Ross and Kay acknowledged their difficulty in communicating with Rebecca, yet praised her as having “been an extremely competent and dedicated member of the staff, carrying on the fine England tradition of love for and support of Dialogue.”

As matters turned out, Maryon’s proposal failed to gain support. Linda and Jack Newell, then part of the advisory board, declined to support the proposal, feeling it was “inappropriate and unprofessional” to lead such an effort or to rally support for it. Kevin Jones, always support ive of the Petersons, felt the Logan move should have been effected much sooner and had even encouraged it. “Each editor has their own stamp, and they cannot do it correctly unless it is in their own backyard. Keeping Dialogue in Salt Lake City would have kept the old editors’ style on it. It needed to be seen as the ‘Ross and Kay Show.’”

Although the Petersons were successful in making their move to Logan, there is no question that Rebecca England’s resignation and Maryon’s reorganization proposal were matters of dismay and regret for them, as is obvious in the gratitude they expressed for the loyalty of Susette Green. “Thank you,” they wrote in a letter, “for really too many things to attempt to list, but among the most important are your loyal understanding and support during an intense and trying time, your encouragement that we didn’t need to feel incompetent, and your wonderfully capable and totally professional job as associate editor.”

Lavina Fielding Anderson, although not a member of the Dialogue staff since the Newells’ departure, also supported the Petersons in their difficulties, and again it is clear in Kay’s response just how difficult their Salt Lake City sojourn had been: “Your common sense, no-nonsense approach to our particular predicament has helped us deal with another wise debilitating situation. Ross and I have Dialogue first and foremost on our list of concerns at this time in our lives. Though it looked to many like we might fumble the ball, we feel that we have every potential in the world to even win the game. Your vote of confidence is very important to us. Thank you from two grateful friends.”

For the Petersons, having the journal’s office in Logan also meant that they could avoid the difficult commute to Salt Lake City that they endured during their first nine months as editors, where they could only be in the office part-time. However, there were clearly other important reasons in moving the office, as they learned during their first year and nine months as editors: 

In Salt Lake City, you get involved in a network: there is Sunstone and Sig nature Books nearby, which creates a Mormon rumor mill about things that were going on. We didn’t want to become involved in current affairs, and we needed to remember that Dialogue was supposed to be a scholarly format with peer review, to take the time to be thoughtful, and try to get a good input on the articles. And so we thought it was better being up in Logan. It was still printed, bound, and sent from Salt Lake City. But there was a touch of independence by being farther away and being able to evaluate everything on its merits, and not being too worried about what others were thinking, or trying to rattle someone else’s chain.

A new phase of the Peterson era was about to begin. For the next three years, the Petersons did enjoy that “touch of independence” they needed, but at the same time, they learned on more than one occasion that they were still just a little too close for comfort. 

VII: Logan, 1989–92 

Our people in Logan, at USU, are working very well. They will obtain the experience specific to Dialogue. A university provides a reservoir of talented people and they are anxious to contribute to the journal.
—F. Ross and Mary Kay Peterson to Armand L. Mauss, July 11, 1989 

During the past five years, we, as editors of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought, have enjoyed a unique relationship with Utah State University. The opportunity to be part of a campus intellectual community is very important to an independent scholarly journal. USU joins Stanford and UCLA as campus hosts during the journal’s twenty-five year history.
—Mary Kay and Ross Peterson to Stanford Cazier, July 30, 1992 

At the time the Petersons first decided to apply for the editorship of Dialogue in 1987, Stanford Cazier, president of Utah State University, and Blythe Ahlstrom, vice-provost, had offered the journal office space on the campus. When they finally took advantage of the university setting for the journal in 1989, they were able to set up a very effective operation. The new Dialogue offices consisted of two rooms in the building that housed the Utah State University Press, and a portion of the garage for storage.

As in Salt Lake City, Kay ran the office, where she put in about thirty hours a week. Ross, back to teaching at Utah State, spent little time at the office but still worked about twenty-five hours a week on Dialogue related business—writing letters, responding to questions, attending planning and staff meetings. Although some of the original staff continued to work from Salt Lake City, and the Logan editorial associates, such as the Cannons and Ray Minkler remained in their duties, the office staff was entirely new. Rather than hire a managing editor as in Salt Lake, the Petersons set up a larger office staff consisting of Laurel Cannon Alder, Lisa Watson, and Lisa Godfrey. Later, Marilyn Hone, Lucia Rhodes, and Laura Chamberlain joined the staff as Alder and Godfrey left. “They were talented and knew computers inside and out,” recalls Ross as he reflects back on this group. Together with Kay, they developed mailers, held sales, ran subscription drives, and launched ad campaigns. By late June, Ross reported to Mary Bradford just how well the new operation was functioning. “Our move to Logan has been eventful in that volunteers are coming out of the woodwork and the transition is going well. Susette and Marilyn White are doing a fantastic job of coordination with our Salt Lake City volunteers and business. The fall issue will be out in August and Winter is ahead of schedule.” Green says modestly that she and White “were a great team.” After Green edited and proofed the accepted manuscripts, she took them to White, who typed, copied, and mailed them. “We became great friends, and I am proud to say that we never missed a deadline.” Because staff was divided between Salt Lake City and Logan, the team held most of its planning meetings at a conference room at the Weber County Library in Ogden in order to make the commute fair to both sides. Everyone came fully prepared to discuss manuscripts for con sideration. “The group was diverse,” Green says, “though none of us had been part of the close-knit Mormon ‘intellectual’ community that swirled around the Newells. I thought the new perspectives were refreshing, and I felt less intimidated to express my opinions than I did before.”

To fully professionalize the operation, the Dialogue Foundation also remodeled the offices, purchased new carpeting, and set up an efficient communication system by making use of the university phone system and on-campus mail thanks to the skills of Marilyn Hone. As a result of it all, Ross says proudly, “We were treated as an important part of the university—another scholarly journal enhances any school’s reputation.”

A New Look 

Most subscribers were aware of, but unaffected by, the change in Dialogue’s business office. However, they would forever notice the influence of the Peterson team for other reasons. Before the Newells stepped down in 1987, they, with the help of Gary Gillum and Dan Maryon had launched a project to publish a twenty-year index. Delays resulted in its appearance in early 1990. Because the Peterson team was publishing on schedule and was determined to keep doing so, the index essentially constituted a fifth issue that year. Because it would be sent free to all subscribers, the added expense would strain the budget. This forced the Petersons to consider some painful changes to maintain the journal’s economic health.

During the August 1989 Sunstone Symposium in Salt Lake City, Kevin Jones hosted a Dialogue staff meeting at his home. Mary Ann Lush of Publishers Press addressed the group about the financial burden of the index project and demonstrated that the Dialogue Foundation could save money by changing the journal from the 6 5/8 x 10 format it had used for more than twenty years to a 6 x 9 format. By late October, the decision was made. “We have decided to reduce the size of the journal beginning with the spring 1990 issue,” wrote Ross and Kay to Levi Peterson. “The decision has not been easy for us to make. It has been on again off again for too long now. It is difficult for most long time subscribers to imagine the journal in any other format, but we cannot rationalize our financial status to accommodate an emotional attachment to size.” This move was not a hasty one. In weighing the decision, the Petersons spoke with editors of several journals that had also changed dimensions, and they examined bound copies in libraries. When they tested the savings on the index, the benefits were seen immediately. As that volume appeared, Ross and Kay described their rationale in letters to advisory and editorial board members: “We literally wasted nearly as much paper as we use because of the unnatural size. The [annual] savings are over $10,000 in paper costs alone.” About $3,000 in additional savings would be realized in mailing costs. Still smarting from the stock market crash two years earlier and with $50,000 in operating costs still dependent on donations each year, that $13,000 savings was significant.

Despite the economic benefits, there were plenty of early criticisms. Former Dialogue editor Mary Bradford wrote a letter of complaint, but her criticisms had more to do with the timing of the size change. The index, printed with the new format, covered volumes one through twenty, all of which were in the original format. “You have published the index in a size that will not bind with the last of the 20 years that it is supposed to be indexing,” she wrote. “If you had to change, and I am not convinced of that, you could have at least waited until after the Index was printed so it would match.” The new size, she lamented, made the journal look like BYU Studies, and more important, she feared it would send a message that Dialogue was struggling. Robert Rees, Bradford’s predecessor as editor, had near identical concerns and added that the new, smaller format would make it much more difficult to publish art. “I might also say that I would have wished that as an advisory editor I had been consulted about this decision rather than informed of it after the fact.” Rees ended his letter by encouraging the Petersons to reconsider the decision if it was not too late. Ross and Kay responded to Bradford, Rees, and others critical of the change in a letter written on March 8 explaining that they had “weighed all the arguments, but finally decided to move to the reduced size for both economical and ecological reasons.” 

The new look premiered with the spring 1990 issue, which carried an announcement to the general readership explaining the reason for the change. As expected, the Petersons experienced some negative reactions from subscribers as well. Some older readers complained that, because printing Dialogue on smaller sheets required it to become thicker, they had a hard time holding it comfortably. 

The Petersons made the decision to change the journal’s size at a time that they also changed to a new computer system, which included computer-based typesetting, a savings over the hot-lead method. Ross informed long-time typesetter Don Henriksen about the change, but Henriksen either did not get or did not understand the message. When he later called Susette Green to ask why she hadn’t delivered the manuscript for the spring issue, she was forced to break the news that the Dialogue staff had voted to change to the newer technology. Green “apologized profusely,” but Henriksen did not take the news well and “called us every name in the book.” When they hung up, Green immediately called Kay at the Dialogue office, and Kay in turn had Ross get in touch with Henriksen. Ross eventually smoothed things over by arranging some other typesetting work for him. Ross remembers that the decision “was very hurtful—both to him and to us for having to do that,” but it, too, was for the economic health of the journal. 

In the end, as the Petersons patiently explained the necessity of the changes, people began to understand. In fact, even before the first issue in the new format was released, Kay Peterson informed Linda Newell: “We are receiving many nice letters in support of this traumatic decision, and we’re certain life will go on for both us and Dialogue after the size change.” 

Prove All Things?: The Thomas Stuart Ferguson Essay 

The first issue in Dialogue’s new format included an important yet controversial essay that epitomized the role of faith, doubt, and the conflicting nature of religious belief and empirical evidence. Stan Larson’s “The Odyssey of Thomas Stuart Ferguson” examined the spiritual journey of the one-time Book of Mormon defender, author, and researcher who, before his death in 1983, had lost belief in the historicity of the Mormon scripture that he had spent a lifetime trying to prove. Larson, formerly with the LDS Church Translation Department, had since 1985 been an archivist in the Special Collections Department at the University of Utah’s Marriott Library. As a graduate student at BYU, he had prepared the register for the Ferguson papers housed there and was, in the late 1980s, cataloging the primary sources for his paper for the H. Michael Marquardt Collection at the University of Utah, which told a different story of Ferguson. In 1989, Larson presented a version of his essay at the Sunstone Symposium in Salt Lake City. 

Ferguson, a lawyer by profession whose passion for Book of Mormon lands led him to author two popular books and several articles on the subject, was also founder of the New World Archaeology Foundation in 1952, serving as its president until 1961. During the course of his research, he made several trips to Mexico and Mesoamerica, where he believed Book of Mormon events occurred. Perhaps even more significantly, he maintained close contact with Church officials, who provided funds for his self-described “magnificent obsession” to unearth indisputable archaeological proofs of the Book of Mormon and, by extension, the prophetic calling of Joseph Smith. 

The discovery of the Book of Abraham papyri in 1967, however, and their translation by renowned Egyptologists failed to demonstrate any relationship with the text contained in the Pearl of Great Price. These discrepancies raised insoluble questions for Ferguson that led to his eventual loss of faith in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. Although he remained active in the Church, found happiness in his involvement, and even continued to bear testimony of the Book of Mormon at LDS firesides, he was matter-of-fact in his dismissal of the text’s divine authenticity in his later correspondence. Thus, two Fergusons, and a significant degree of confusion, emerged. Larson’s essay establishes Ferguson’s loss of faith and his peaceful resolution of being an active though nonbelieving member without the sensationalism of anti-Mormon or apologist spin. 

The Petersons’ initial concern was that only Larson had access to the crucial sources from Ferguson’s later life, as they were still being catalogued. The most critical documents were twenty-two private letters written between 1971 and 1983. Although anti-Mormon critics Jerald and Sandra Tanner had already published information about Ferguson’s rejection of the Book of Mormon, it hadn’t been evaluated in detail, nor had it been published for a scholarly Mormon audience. As part of the review process, the Peterson team sent the essay to six readers, one of whom was John L. Sorenson, BYU anthropology professor and renowned Book of Mormon defender, whose own book, An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon, appeared in 1985. The Peterson team also verified the sensitive source material to their satisfaction. “The sources did not lie and Stan was fine to work with,” recalls Ross. Dialogue did receive pressure from some faculty at BYU not to publish the essay, who felt it might create an obstacle in funding their own research programs and might alter the archeological evidence for the Book of Mormon. Larson, not surprisingly, faced pressure to refrain from telling such a personal story. Ross T. Christensen, of the archaeology department at BYU, urged him to give up the project because “it would stir up trouble.” Christensen admitted to Larson that he was so upset about the proposed essay that he had to take antacids to calm his upset stomach. 

When the essay appeared, readers weighed in. “We have had some interesting responses to the Ferguson article,” wrote the Petersons soon af ter. “As expected, one son [of Ferguson] is convinced his father died a full believer. Another reader saw the danger of basing faith on physical evidence. A third saw him in a role similar to [Mark] Hofmann. It is a provocative topic which has elicited some introspective responses.” The letter to the editor from Ferguson’s son, Larry, appeared in the winter 1990 issue. It does not directly address any of the evidence in Larson’s piece about his father’s doubts but seeks to assure readers that, before his death, the elder Ferguson bore strong testimony to his family, declaring that “the Book of Mormon is exactly what Joseph Smith said it was.” 

In an unpublished letter to the editor, Larson responded to the younger Ferguson. Larson acknowledged that some had concluded from Thomas Ferguson’s contradictory statements that his crisis of faith was merely “a temporary state of questioning and doubt, but that after this troubled period he returned to his former enthusiasm and convictions.” However, because Ferguson’s letters, written all the way up to his death, consistently told the same story, Larson concluded that there was no evidence that Ferguson only temporarily lost his faith. 

The larger question was the value in telling such a personal story. To some, it could be written off as gossip, serving no purpose. To others, however, it validates the purpose of a journal like Dialogue. The essay was not a study of Book of Mormon evidence; it did not advocate a position on the historicity of Mormon scripture. It was a story of one man’s journey, yet in another sense, it was much more. Ferguson’s journey does show that there can be a peaceful resolution to a crisis of faith when faith cannot be regained; it shows that, unlike the one-dimensional characters so easily portrayed in history when distanced by time, a loss of faith need not be based on sin, evil, or selfish motivation; on the contrary, it shows how tenuous faith can be. It is a testament to the fact that one can find value in a religious culture without necessarily accepting its truth claims and that religion can provide temporal happiness when hopes of eternal happiness no longer remain. Ferguson’s struggle was not unique; neither was the embarrassment of family and friends who wanted to preserve a facade and protect the fragile faith of others. Clearly, the role of Dialogue in provoking “dialogue” was demonstrated here. 

An Unfortunate Episode 

The same month that Dialogue celebrated its new physical image, the Petersons experienced the most painful experience of their tenure, stemming in large part from the journal’s misunderstood public image. In early April 1990, LDS temples throughout the world closed for a week in order to install a modified version of the endowment ceremony, much of which is presented to attendees on film and in tape-recorded instruction. The changes that temple-going Latter-day Saints were surprised, but apparently glad, to see were the removal of gestures representing punishments for revealing portions of the ceremony, the depiction of a Protestant minister as a hireling of Satan, and a pledge by women of obedience to their husbands. Despite the charge to maintain the sacred yet secret nature of the ritual, some Mormons who attended the temple after the revised ceremony was instituted on April 10 talked so enthusiastically about the changes that they soon got the attention of the press; and within a few weeks, reporters began to seek out Mormon as well as non-Mormon critics for comment. The first story, published on April 29, was written by Associated Press reporter Vern Anderson and appeared in the Salt Lake Tribune. Anderson quoted only two Mormons in his article: Ross Peterson and former Dialogue managing editor Rebecca England, then associated with the Mormon Women’s Forum. In his comments, Ross noted that, “The general consensus is that it’s a breath of fresh air.” In reference to the deletion of the negatively portrayed Protestant minister, Ross again indicated approval: “You don’t put down other churches or imply that they are Satan’s children.” 

Within a week, more stories of the changes, featuring comments by other Mormons, such as Lavina Fielding Anderson, Robert Rees, and Ron Priddis, as well as anti-Mormon critic Sandra Tanner, appeared in the national media. 

Church leaders in Salt Lake City were displeased with the comments by Church members and took immediate action. What followed also made its way into the press. On June 2, the Los Angeles Times reported that local LDS authorities asked those quoted in the media to come in for discussions. In the article, Robert Rees said that his interview was “amicable,” and Lavina Fielding Anderson said hers was “positive.” In fact, her temple recommend was renewed in the process.

Like the others, Ross Peterson was called into the office of his stake president to discuss his comments. The Logan Church leader informed Peterson that the Area Presidency over Northern Utah—William H. Bradford, Malcolm H. Jeppson, and Richard P. Lindsay—had requested that Peterson be disciplined by having his temple recommend revoked. According to the stake president, the area presidency wanted Peterson to come to LDS headquarters for an interview with one of them. Peterson agreed and went alone to Salt Lake City on May 10—something he soon decided was a “mistake,” where he met with, not one, but all three members of the Area Presidency at the Church Office Building.

Peterson later described the interview’s focus, saying it was clearly “an attack on Dialogue and every other independent thinking, questioning, scholarly individual or publication.” The presidency was adamant that Latter-day Saints should not discuss the temple in Dialogue or to the media and in any regard. They expressed particular displeasure about David Buerger’s 1987 essay. “They were not deterred by any argument relative to the printed availability of the endowment ceremony or that all who were quoted viewed the historic changes positively,” Peterson wrote to George Smith three months later. Bradford then threatened a Church court (now known as a disciplinary council) should any further discussion of the temple appear “in any form of print media.”

Peterson was also shown what he described as a “large file of news articles, scholarly articles, and other material in which I had written or was quoted. Much of it was political, but Church security had done a thorough job on negative issues.” If the existence of such a file was not distressing enough, the apparent motive was worse. “There was no attempt to gather any counter-information. To say the least, it was an unpleasant experience.” Describing the file later, Peterson said that everything he saw “all described me as an anti-authority person—government or church.” During the interview, Ross agreed not to discuss the temple changes any further with the media.

Despite the personal pain the episode caused, Ross and Kay were immediately concerned for the well-being of Dialogue and held a meeting the following week with their Logan staff members. They also met with advisors and board members living in Utah. They offered to resign their position as editors if a consensus developed that staying on would be detrimental to Dialogue’s independence. During the course of the meetings, however, a decision was reached that Ross and Kay “should stay firm,” Ross said, “and not give those challenging me any satisfaction by changing leadership.” They also discussed an essay by Margaret Toscano, “Rending the Veil,” scheduled to appear in the journal, but which discussed the temple ceremony in such a way that might provoke Bradford’s wrath and the threatened Church court. “The timing could not have been worse,” Ross explained, and all concerned wanted to avoid any situation that might expose Toscano to attack and Church discipline too. “Would the threat of the co-editor extend to an author?” he wondered. Since Toscano’s piece was also set to appear in a forthcoming book she co-authored with her husband, Paul, the essay would still have an outlet. Toscano understood the dilemma but was saddened nonetheless. “In retrospect, it is the toughest decision that has faced us as editors.” 

Ross still had to deal with what he clearly believed was unwarranted discipline on the part of his Area Presidency, and decided to respond. He first wrote letters to Bradford, Jeppson, and Lindsay, to Gordon B. Hinckley, then first counselor in the First Presidency, and to Apostle Dallin H. Oaks. In his letters, he explained why he spoke with the media and argued why he felt he was being misjudged and unfairly disciplined. Rather than mail the letters, Ross hand-delivered them to their respective offices in the Church Administration Building and Church Office Building. By Monday, May 29, Ross and Kay reported that friends from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., had called with expressions of support. However, they had not heard (nor would they) from any of those to whom Ross had written. 

The Petersons’ bishop, also upset by the discipline, encouraged Ross and Kay to formally push the issue through him if nothing had changed by May 31. However, unbeknownst to Ross, others were already at work on his behalf. He soon learned that many of his friends wrote or called General Authorities whom they knew personally and told them of the injustice behind the discipline and the negative file. Then, in early June, someone whom Ross described as “a close personal friend with title” met first with a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and then with a counselor in the First Presidency and appealed to them in the matter. As a result of this effort, Ross was given assurance that the recommend would be restored and that his stake president was sent a letter with instructions to do so. After meeting with his bishop and the stake president, Ross was issued a new temple recommend on June 8. “I now want to put this issue behind me and trust that some good may come from the whole experience,” he wrote two weeks later. “Hopefully, some of those in authority will become less arbitrary in their handling of individuals. I have learned that there are authorities who do care.”

A concern to Ross and Kay during the ordeal was the possibility of any “fallout effect on our family,” explaining that it was “not an easy tight rope to walk.” However, reflecting on the episode four and a half years later, Ross found that at home, his support had been the greatest. It was also a moment of innocence lost, in case thirty-three months at the helm of Dialogue had not been long enough to pare away all naivete: 

A situation like this where your family knows you, and they also know the Church, then they know what is wrong or right. As a result they were very loyal to [me]. That is very important to me. The other thing that came out of that is the feeling that the organization isn’t what it seems—that there are people within the organization who may be trying to advance their own careers. As a result, they can get people caught in the middle of something, who are really innocent, well meaning, and trying to help. But suddenly, that person is viewed as an enemy. That has been the hardest thing for me to deal with—having devoted so much time over the years in Scouting, the Aaronic Priesthood, missionary work, and as a bishop, bishop’s counselor, and a high councilman—twice—to somehow be viewed as an enemy to the Church. Then to have [the Area Presidency] try to convince the stake presidency that I was an enemy—people who have known me since I moved to Logan. That was very hard to deal with. 

Keeping with Tradition: The Women’s Issue 

During Ross’s ordeal, business at Dialogue went on, and the Dialogue team was finalizing a special women’s issue of the journal, the third published in its history. Kay began the search for papers in February 1989 by placing an announcement in Exponent II, with a submission deadline of September 1. She later recalled that planning the issue was not as “orchestrated” as were its predecessors; she simply published the announcements and invited women to contribute. There were pros and cons in publishing theme issues, the Petersons had learned and, in general, wanted to stay away from them. “The advantage of pursuing a theme is that it can help create research and writing,” they noted to supporter Dixie Partridge. “Of course, a danger is that readers tire of the theme and are upset that an entire issue is so narrow, when usually [a typical issue] is general and universal.” The editorial board, however, felt a women’s issue would be greeted with enthusiasm. 

The response in terms of submissions was overwhelming. By early March, Mormon feminist Helen Candland Stark, nearly ninety years old, agreed to an interview as the basis for a biographical essay, and Kay sent her a list of questions assembled by Susette Green and Lavina Fielding Anderson. The result was the opening article in the issue, by Ander son, called “A Strenuous Business: The Achievements of Helen Candland Stark.” Anderson’s work on the issue extended beyond her essay. Green recalls that she (Green) was busy editing the manuscripts for the issue at the time her father was dying of cancer. “I was sitting editing articles when the call came from my mother that he had died, looking at those articles on my lap and going to pieces.” She immediately called Anderson, telling her that she could not continue under the circumstances. “In a flash she was at my house. She swooped them from my hands and told me that of course I couldn’t think, and I should leave them to her. I’ve almost never been so grateful.” 

The published issue included an essay by Stark called “The Good Woman Syndrome,” first published in 1976 in Exponent II. There was also an essay by Amy L. Bentley on the 1978–81 Alice Louise Reynolds Forum, a feminist lunch group that grew out of the disastrous International Women’s Year conference held in Salt Lake City in 1977. Other topics included women as healers, patriarchy, and domestic violence. A first for Dialogue was the inclusion of an eight-page signature in full-color of paintings and sculptures by Mormon women. There was such an abundance of material that three essays were held over and included in the winter issue. The Petersons planned to publish even more later but changed their minds, as they told one author, after they “received a number of letters and phone calls accusing us of ‘overkill.’” The women’s issue provided the Petersons the opportunity to publicize Dialogue, and they sent copies to several newspapers, explained the theme, and asked religion editors to review it. 

At least one essay did generate some concern. “Speaking out on Domestic Violence,” by Ann Castleton, was a personal story of abuse; and according to Ross, the Dialogue office received complaints. One person even came to the office to insist that there was another side to the story. One reader said it was “little more than opportunistic ‘ax-grinding’ and I am disappointed that the editorial staff failed to see it for what it is.” The reader questioned Castleton’s motivation in sacrificing the privacy of even her own family to expose her ex-husband. “It was far too personal to be scholarly and the motivation of the author was questionable at best” she said. Ross and Kay responded that they too, had been troubled by these concerns but that their final decision was based on the fact that the author had presented her paper at the 1989 Sunstone Symposium, where over a hundred people were in attendance, and that a tape of the session was available for purchase. More importantly, the prevalence of domestic abuse was such that it needed to be addressed. However, they admitted, “in this case we may have erred.” 

Overall, however, the response was positive. In a letter to the Peter sons, Helen Stark defined the women’s issue as “a vindication of the concept that even the life of an ordinary person has its place in the scheme of things.” For the Petersons, that said it all. 

Dialogue and the Statement on Symposia 

Throughout the remainder of the Peterson team’s tenure, Dialogue continued to publish on schedule, but the editors also focused intently on finances. In May 1991, they wrote Armand Mauss to report that the foundation investment fund was approaching $100,000. “This summer, we are going to make a giant push for increased subscriptions. By the August editorial board meeting, we hope to have an idea of our purposes.”

August, however, turned cold for the Mormon intellectual community as leaders of the LDS Church spoke out against its dangers, a warning reiterated at October general conference. In August, the Sunstone Foundation held its annual symposium in Salt Lake City. The Salt Lake Tribune gave it unprecedented news coverage this time, and especially highlighted some of the more controversial presentations. Non-Mormon University of Utah history professor Colleen McDannell presented a paper which discussed the Mormon temple garment (without details) in the larger context of religious symbolism. Dialogue staff member Helen Cannon was the respondent. BYU professor David Knowlton discussed terrorism against missionaries in South America; and John Sillito, archivist at Weber State University, presented the story of Richard R. Lyman, LDS apostle excommunicated in 1943. 

On August 23, in an unusual move, the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve issued a joint “Statement” that criticized presentations given at “recent symposia sponsored and attended by some members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The statement was printed in Salt Lake City in the Deseret News and the Salt Lake Tribune. Although none of the presentations noted above were mentioned by name (in fact, neither was Sunstone), the references in the statement were clear. Alluding to McDannell’s paper, the brethren “deplore[d] the bad taste and insensitivity of these public discussions of things we hold sacred.” Knowlton’s essay seemed to be the target of their statement that some facts were “seized upon in such a way as to injure the Church or its members or to jeopardize the effectiveness or safety of our missionaries.” As to Sillito’s revelations about Apostle Lyman, the Mormon leaders said “there are times when public discussion of sacred or personal matters is inappropriate.” The statement advised “faithful members” who participated in the symposium that “there are times when it is better to have the Church without representation than to have implications of Church participation used to promote a program that contains some (though admittedly not all) presentations that result in ridiculing sacred things or injuring the church of Jesus Christ, detracting from its mission, or jeopardizing the well-being of its members.”

The Tribune, unlike the church-owned Deseret News, published reactions to the Statement, which included an apology by Sunstone publisher Daniel Rector and editor Elbert Peck, who expressed regret “if some deliberations at our symposia gave offense or were interpreted as detracting from the mission of the Church.” Lowell Bennion, beloved author and Mormon humanitarian, made comments of support, as did others. At October general conference, Apostle Boyd K. Packer mentioned the statement and stressed “the dangers of participating in symposia which concentrate on doctrine and ordinances and measure them by the intellect alone.” Apostle Marvin J. Ashton and Seventy Charles Didier spoke similarly. 

With such a message and its reinforcement by Church leaders, it is not surprising that Dialogue soon felt the sting. Chad Orton, of the Church Historical Department, withdrew a paper from the journal soon after general conference. “Although it is difficult for us to accept the current climate, we respect the decision you have made,” the Petersons assured Orton. However, they lamented the larger issue. “It is very difficult for us to be considered either dissidents or enemies.” They weren’t suffering alone; and that same day they sent a letter of comfort and support to Sunstone editor Elbert Peck. “Please remember that during times of difficulty and internal investigations, we are judged by the company we keep. Studies of McCarthyism emphasize the concept of guilt by association. There are times when friends need to be counted and thanked. We count you and we thank you. Be not discouraged or afraid, but take heart in the knowledge that you have friends.” Certainly, the Petersons’ commitment to independent Mormon scholarship hadn’t budged an inch. 

The fallout from the situation could have been detrimental to Dialogue’s ad campaign, and at first there were signs of trouble. Although they had previously advertised in BYU Today without any problem, suddenly its editor, Jim Bell, felt compelled to renege on a verbal agreement to run the latest ad. The Petersons, again finding it “personally and professionally distressful to be considered enemies of the Church,” assured Bell that the ads were “very low key and do not include a subscription form. As you might imagine, they are very well conceived.” However, in the current climate, it made no difference. 

The BYU Today pullout and the renewed anti-intellectual climate at Church headquarters motivated the Peterson team to greater aggressiveness in their ad campaign. They created a new concept for the ad and secured space in the Salt Lake Tribune, the Deseret News, and the LDS magazine This People. Each ad showed Dialogue subscribers under a catchy headline tying their occupations to their reason for reading the journal. For example, the headline for an ad featuring firefighter Nancy Avery, of Tucson, Arizona, said “Some Dialogue Readers Look for the Burning Issues.” Each ad also included a caption by the featured subscriber telling why the journal was important to them; there was also an offer for a free trial issue at the bottom. By December, the office had received requests for around fifty free copies as a direct result of the ad. This greater awareness of the journal did not increase the subscriber base; however, it may have helped it hold firm. Yet in a surprising twist, in the weeks following general conference, the Petersons noted that manuscript submissions rose, especially “from a certain campus in Utah County,” which was, of course, a reference to BYU. This was good news, as they reported to long-time supporter Obert C. Tanner. “If part of the strategy is to intimidate authors, it is not working.” However, they acknowledged, “potential new subscribers might be frightened away because of the rhetoric. First time renewals are also down due to a timidity about ‘sustaining the brethren.’” In early 1992, Ross updated Armand Mauss on the situation: “There is no doubt that some less committed subscribers have not renewed. We will do our best to keep subscriptions up.” To persuade subscribers to renew, Ross said that his team would send out up to three reminders, call people, and allow them to renew over the telephone with a credit card. “It was a pretty persistent system, as we didn’t want to lose people.” 

Despite the relatively small difference the statement made to Dialogue during the Peterson era, observers see it as a turning point in the Mormon intellectual community. A debate about academic freedom at BYU and faculty participation at Sunstone forced many of the faculty to speak out, including twenty sociology faculty in a memo to BYU president Rex E. Lee, defending participation at the symposium. Eugene England and Edward L. Kimball, of the English Department and J. Reuben Clark Law School respectively, responded to criticisms that the symposium was “unacademic.” Although the Church’s statement was geared toward Sun stone and deeply affected moderate voices who participated in its symposium in the years ahead, the chilling effect went much deeper. Historian Martha Sonntag Bradley (who would become co-editor of Dialogue in 1992) argued that this polarization was “between the Church and any member who might choose to study Mormonism in depth from any academic or professional discipline.” If true, Dialogue was no safer than Sunstone. It would be left to future editors to gauge, and then respond to that fallout. 

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times 

Even before the “Statement on Symposia,” the Petersons had experienced all of the frustrations that come with editing an independent Mormon journal, yet over the course of their tenure, they also found it very satisfying and rewarding. On the downside, dealing with the occasional loss of significant articles was always disheartening. For example, Glen Leonard, administrator at the LDS Museum of Church History and Art, had presented a paper as part of a session on Nauvoo at the meeting of the Mormon History Association in Quincy, Illinois, in May 1989. He had considered submitting the paper to Dialogue but, in the end, chose to publish elsewhere because of possible repercussions from his supervisors. Two other papers presented at the session by RLDS historian Richard P. Howard and non-Mormon John Hallwas were submitted to Dialogue. Ronald K. Esplin, then director of the Joseph Fielding Smith Institute at BYU, had presented a paper at the same session and agreed to submit his to Dialogue, but would not do it without Leonard’s; in fact, he preferred that all four be published together. Leonard’s decision doomed them all for Dialogue. Despite further pleas, the Petersons had no choice but to accept their loss. “Our concern was that the session be published, but we felt that your paper really fulfilled the philosophical aspirations of Dialogue,” they wrote in a letter to Leonard. “We held on to our position as long as we could, but the integrity of the articles is more important than who publishes them.” 

Two months before the Church issued its symposia statement, BYU history professor Carol Cornwall Madsen pulled a paper that had already been “edited and ready to go” because she worried her position at the Smith Institute could be jeopardized. Again, the Petersons were disappointed but understanding. “After a couple of weeks of contemplation, anguish, and concern, we want you to know that we understand the dilemma you face,” they assured her. Amid these moments, however, came good news. Richard Cracroft, English professor at BYU and former dean of the College of Humanities there, submitted an essay in 1990, despite once having been told specifically not to publish in Dialogue. The article, his first in the journal in nearly twenty years, appeared in 1991.

The Petersons also had to deal with those whom they chose not to publish. Usually a letter of explanation and a word of encouragement would suffice. Now and then, however, the rejection could be devastating. One man lashed out after the Petersons rejected an essay authored by his brother, a former LDS Church educator. “You and your editors and reading board have turned down the best article you have had or will have. Was it too convincing on the competency of the Prophet Joseph, or are you dummies too dumb to understand?” Ross and Kay responded calmly. They acknowledged that the author “was a kind and gentle teacher who devoted his life to compassion and understanding young people.” Furthermore, his “statement of faith was beautiful, but is based on faith, not documented research.” 

Sometimes it was the readers who were angry, and this was equally frustrating to the editors. Michael Fillerup’s fictional piece, “The Bowhunter,” contained some profanity, which bothered several subscribers. “We are very sorry that you were so upset by the short story in the Winter issue of Dialogue that you cancelled your subscription,” wrote the Petersons to one subscriber. “We are enclosing the refund you requested.” A charter subscriber, who decided not to renew his subscription because most articles require a “PhD in some obscure field to even partially understand,” also complained about the language in the short story. The Peter sons explained that in publishing the piece they “had reservations, but we also found redeeming value. Fiction is a form allowing expression in avenues that are not those of scholarship.” Clearly surprised by these complaints, however, Ross and Kay noted the irony that “our readers do not respond to an attack on Joseph Smith or Ezra Taft Benson, but if a swear word is printed, they go crazy.” 

Yet many articles were simply relevant to Mormons anywhere along the spectrum. Some of these—often personal, always insightful—came from the panel discussions that Dialogue sponsored at the Sunstone Symposium. Each year of their editorship the Petersons published one. There was a panel of Relief Society presidents, and another that assembled workers in the Church’s Primary organization. Each talked about their experiences and concerns as they served in their wards. There was a discussion about life in Utah from the perspectives of several converts, and two other panels about the experiences of Mormons married to nonmembers and vice versa. 

The Peterson era also saw the first article dealing with AIDS, in which the author, Steven J. Sainsbury, a physician and Mormon bishop, compared the disease to leprosy, drawing parallels between the blame and emotional suffering victims of both diseases have had to endure. Urging greater understanding, the author states: “To be a leper in Israel or an AIDS patient in Zion merits a condemnation and ostracism that is as reprehensible and harsh as it is, for followers of Christ, inexcusable.” This essay was a call for greater compassion and Christ-like love comparable to anything found in the Church’s official organs. Many made a difference. “We heard from bishops and stake presidents who asked for copies of an article so that they could use it to help somebody,” remembers Ross. 

The Petersons often provided words of encouragement themselves. They counseled one Latter-day Saint living in the Netherlands, who had been threatened with Church court action for his vocal criticisms of LDS Church business activities, to “remain active in your ward or branch, pay tithing, live the Word of Wisdom, and serve others. You must bring reform from within. Outside critics lose their objectivity and love for the gospel.” Ross believes that, during the five years he and Kay edited Dialogue, he wrote 100–120 letters to people who he says were “teetering.” He always urged them not to give up on Mormonism. “We wanted them to stay intellectually involved, but we didn’t want to destroy their faith.” Susette Green praised Ross for helping many people, especially youth, stay in the Church, one of whom was her daughter, Erin. “He called at all kinds of odd times to make sure she was doing as she ought. She loves him dearly to this day,” she said in 2006. 

Stepping Down 

In the fall of 1991, the time had arrived once again to start looking for a new editorial team to take over Dialogue’s leadership in the following year. Jack Newell and Lavina Fielding Anderson agreed to lead a new search committee. Over the next five months, several interested candidates applied for the position and provided statements of their proposed editorial philosophy. The search committee, examining all proposals, narrowed the possibilities to a few finalists by early March 1992. After further scrutiny, a new editorial team was selected shortly thereafter. Replacing the Petersons as co-editors of Dialogue were BYU history professor Martha Sonntag Bradley and architect Allen D. Roberts. Their selection meant moving the journal back to Salt Lake City, where they would begin their operation on August 1, 1992. The Petersons remained editors officially through the winter 1992 issue as part of the transition. “The new editorial group is going to bring the energy of youth to the journal,” wrote Ross and Kay to Armand Mauss a few weeks after Bradley and Roberts were selected. “We admire the exhaustive organization and planning which went into their proposal. Now on to an effective transition.” 

In June, the Logan Herald Journal featured an article about the Peter sons as they were about to complete their tenure with the journal. The Petersons’ comments provided some contrast to the negative publicity that the Mormon intellectual community had received over the past few years. “It [their editorship with Dialogue] has done nothing other than strengthen my testimony,” Ross told the reporter, “and I’ve become a lot more tolerant of other people’s views, especially in Utah.” Kay agreed, adding, “I’ve just always been one who has been comfortable with my testimony, and that has just grown stronger through this. To me, this forum is so important because it helps me realize people have the same struggles I have.” During their final months, Ross and Kay also reflected on the benefits of their editorship, and what they found to be the most gratifying aspect. “Somehow it is fitting that one of the very last letters we write as editors of Dialogue is to you,” wrote Ross and Kay to George Smith. “The most rewarding and lasting aspect of our experience is the expanded circle of friends. The journal’s impact is broadened and enhanced because of the loyalty of those who are committed to independent thought.” 

If the friendships were expanded, certainly those existing ones were strengthened. Ross summarized the relationship that existed with key staff members who had stayed throughout their tenure and provided support during difficult times. “They were great people,” Ross said. “They hurt when you hurt, and they were happy when you were happy.” Indeed, the staff felt the same way. Helen and Larry Cannon said in 2006 that Ross and Kay worked well together and that “both made important contributions” to the journal: “Ross’s professional experience as a historian was important, but his personality was also an essential part of making the journal go, keeping the editorial board on an even keel, allowing a full range of expression of opinions, while having enough humor to keep us from taking ourselves (or outside influences) too seriously.” Kevin Jones said in 2004 that “Ross and Kay Peterson are two of the most dedicated, compassionate, caring LDS members ever to edit Dialogue. They cared about the church and the community.” For Ross, however, “the best thing that happened was being able to work with Kay and to develop a greater appreciation for [her] talents.” 

The Peterson team had set a goal of increasing the journal’s subscriber base to 5,000, and saw it reach a high point of 4,100—higher than any since the late 1960s. Even with all the official negativity from the Church, subscriptions did not drop lower than 3,600. They also increased the number of libraries and universities subscribing to Dialogue, which meant that more people had access to the journal than ever before. And by having Dialogue’s financial house in order, maintaining an impressively punctual publishing schedule, and preparing their remaining issues so as not to burden the new team, they created a simple, relatively painless transition. According to one of their successors, the journal was in such great shape when the new team took over “that anyone could have taken it and made it fly.” 

*** 

Before the Petersons were selected as Dialogue editors in 1987, Jack Newell made a prediction. “Show me a new editor for Dialogue who will not be controversial within a year or two, and I’ll show you the end of an institution—the institution we call Dialogue.” If remaining free of controversy could have been an attainable ideal, no one was better poised to at least try it than the Petersons. Although former Dialogue editors Eugene England and Robert Rees later become LDS bishops, Ross was the first to have served in that position prior to his editorship. The Petersons’ commitment to Mormonism was beyond dispute, as the friends who later appealed to Church leaders in Ross’s behalf in 1990 could attest. The Peter sons wanted to manage the journal quietly, away from the rumor mills of Salt Lake City; and their happiest moments at Dialogue’s helm were when they were able to do that. During the Peterson editorship, Dialogue’s content was less controversial than it had ever been. 

However, the Peterson era underscored the lesson that responsible, independent Mormon scholarship would not come without a price. Dialogue would remain suspect in the eyes of the official Church, if not for its content, then for its presence. The Petersons’ successors, in addition to taking over a journal in good working order, came with the official warnings about “alternate voices,” the “Statement on Symposia,” and the disciplinary action against Ross Peterson. Although the climate seemed to cool for the time being, the new team knew that being back in Salt Lake City, in the shadow of the Church Office Building, predicted a bumpy ride. 

To be continued.