Yes, it's true: when I was a youthful teen true believer, I was baptized for dozens of dead people. Follow me below the orange loops-de-kos to find out more about this practice and other (yes, other!) mormon temple rituals performed "for and in behalf of" the dead.
The other day Mitt Romney was asked if he'd ever done "baptisms of the dead." According to the story, he looked a bit startled as he replied that while he'd done some in his life, he hadn't done any in years. He may have been startled because of the preposition used in the question: in their minds and belief set, mormons practice baptism for the dead. They're doing something "good" for someone, not just something to them. But we'll get back to the rationale, such as it is, a bit later.
Anyway, Mitt said he hadn't done any such baptisms for years, and that is very likely true: this particular ritual is pretty much reserved for "worthy" mormon teenagers to participate in. Under most circumstances the only reason an adult acts as proxy is when the dead person is a close relative, usually recently deceased — and by recently, there is a one-year waiting period following death before anyone can be baptized.
My parents converted to mormonism when I was a baby, and I grew up in a very observant ("active" in mormon parlance) household. I was a complete and total fanatic: I devoured mormon books about mormonism and mormon theology, I read all of the mormon scriptures (including the Bible, yea verily, even the Old Testament) numerous times before the age of 12. I was a know-it-all (and then some) in Sunday School classes. And believe me, even now I retain a huge amount of this stuff cluttering up my neural pathways, so no one would want to tangle with me about scriptures and such (were I so inclined to bother debating when I don't believe any of it anymore).
At the age of 12, a mormon boy is ordained to be a deacon, the lowest rank in the lower or "Aaronic" priesthood. (This has no equivalency to deaconhood in other denominations, by the way, and back in the 19th century, there were plenty of adult mormon deacons, but no more.) Girls just move from the Primary children's auxiliary to the teenage auxiliary program. But 12-year-old girls, like 12-year-old boys, can go to a mormon temple to do baptisms for the dead. (With a group, on a schedule: no one, in particular no kid, can go waltzing into a mormon temple and do baptisms.)
So when I turned 12, I went through the entire procedure (it's been about 40 years, so a few details may be a tad hazy). This included first having an interview with my bishop (the local lay pastor) to determine my worthiness. Did I pay my tithing? Check. Did I keep the Word of Wisdom (no alcohol, illegal drugs, coffee, tea, tobacco)? Check. Was I sexually pure? (Just how detailed this question might be was and still is left up to the interviewer, and while I was spared this — all of my bishops were fine people — I know of some bishops and other leaders who were downright voyeuristic in this regard.) Did I believe in the gospel? Check. Did I "sustain" my church leaders? Check. Did I have any ties with any apostate (including polygamous) groups? No way!—Check.
My bishop signed my temple recommend, which I then had to get counter-signed by a member of the Stake presidency. (A stake — think tent stake — is a collection of wards or congregations in a particular geographic area.)
Temple recommend in hand, I waited until it was our ward's turn to head on down to the Los Angeles temple to do baptisms for the dead. This happened on a weekday afternoon after school. We all wore our Sunday best — after all, we were going into the Lord's own House!… everyone knew that Jesus Christ had personally been there. (Srsly.) We had all been instructed to wear white (and only white) underwear, and to bring a change thereof with us.
We enter the temple, showing our recommends to the receptionist, and then the girls went to the women's locker room and the boys went to the men's locker room. We girls were given rather shapeless and (to me) ill-fitting white dresses to put on. The boys got white pants and shirts. All of us, clad in white and barefoot, were then led downstairs to sit on the benches in the waiting area in view of the baptismal font.
The baptismal font in the Los Angeles temple (with similar fonts in temples worldwide) was a large, deep basin set on the backs of 12 full-size bronze oxen (similar to the first photo in this official article here). When my turn came, I entered the warm water that came up higher than my waist. I gave my list of names to the "ordinance worker" — always a him, of course, baptism being a priesthood activity. (There was also a witness — another "him" — to ensure that the ritual was done properly.)
The man who would baptize me for the dead would hold my wrist while I held onto my other wrist and to man's left wrist. He would then lift his right arm to the square while saying:
Having authority given me of Jesus Christ, I baptize you for and in behalf of [name of person], who is dead, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
…After which I would be plunged into the water. Total immersion baptism, you see. If a stray hair floats on top, or a toe comes out of the water, or if the officiator doesn't say the formulaic words perfectly, it all has to be done over again until it's right. (When I was personally baptized — not in the temple, but in my local meetinghouse's baptismal font — I got dunked several times because my dad kept leaving out the "of's.")
Given the large number of names to be done and mormon kids desiring to have this experience, we buzzed through my set of names in a heartbeat: "Blah-blah-blah, amen" [dunk]! "Blah-blah-blah, amen" [dunk]! "Blah-blah-blah, amen" [dunk]! … at least a dozen times every time I went (which was about once a year up until I went away to college).
Now, you're probably thinking that that's all there is to it. Oh no, no. After people are baptized, they have to be confirmed a member and receive the Gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands. So yes, after I was done being baptized for the dead, I changed back into my dry Sunday best clothes and was led into another area, where I handed another man the list of names, who then laid his hands on my head and confirmed and bestowed the Holy Ghost on the newly-baptized dead.
At the time it was a very intense and spiritual experience for an impressionable young person, especially one as Pharisaically devout as I was. Although I never saw any satisfied spirits of the dead rejoicing in the presence of those who'd performed these earthly ordinances on their behalf, tales of such appearances were and are legion. We all "felt the Spirit" in the temple.
There are, of course, no tales of enraged spirits zooming into the temples to scream at "WTF do you think you're doing!?" at the well-intentioned junior proxies. (Given the dearth of available dead people to baptize, resulting in multiple experiences for many dead people, I'm not surprised that someone as popular as Anne Frank has had her "work" done 9 times. But it seems like she would have shown up to say "Enough, already!" long since.)
Just so you know, all dead people have other "ordinances" performed for them by proxy: men are ordained to mormon priesthood (the dead get to skip the lower priesthood and are ordained by proxy straightaway into the higher, or Melchizedek, priesthood); all dead people are ritually washed with water and anointed with olive oil (really!) in preparation to receive "further light and knowledge"; all dead people go through the mormon ritual of the Endowment — an enactment of the biblical creation of the world, the fall of Adam & Eve, the preaching of the gospel… and where they learn the secret handshakes and signs and passwords and so on to get into heaven. (Yes, I mean it.)
Further, couples who were married on earth get married for eternity by proxy. If they had children, those children are "sealed" to them for eternity by proxy.
So, in summary, mormons do the following "for and in behalf of" the dead:
• Baptism
• Confirmation / gift of the Holy Ghost ("laying on of hands")
• Priesthood ordination (males only)
• Washings & anointings
• Endowment (including secret handshakes & passwords)
• Eternal marriage (where applicable)
• Sealing of children (where applicable)*
This was my experience. I participated in all these rituals (except for priesthood ordination) while I was an active mormon (up to about age 40).
At the time, I honestly felt that I was doing what God wanted. (Certainly I was doing what church leaders told me God wanted.) Further, I believed that the dead were very happy to have these ordinances performed for them: doing so helps liberate them from a peculiar kind of mormon limbo. And quite honestly, in its own crazy and tone-deaf way, the mormon view of salvation for the dead is a helluva lot more generous than what my evangelical cousins believe in — i.e., "didn't accept Jesus because you never heard of him? Tough luck, hell fire for eternity for you (babies included)!"
The fact that mormons believe that a dead person is free to accept or reject these ordinances obviously doesn't do much to quell the outrage people feel about having their ancestors subjected to mormon rituals by proxy without anyone's prior permission. (Oh, and did I mention that mormons believe that the afterlife is one big missionary experience for dead mormons… and one big getting-buttonholed by the dead mormon missionaries for the non-mormons? Yes sirree! Fun times in the hereafter for everyone!)
*…No, I don't know for sure what happens re: children of single moms when the father isn't known. If the father's known, then mom & dad get married for eternity by proxy first. Policy re: children born of adulterous relationships? … Not sure, probably belong to daddy in the patriarchal scheme of things, and daddy may end up marrying the mother, because polygyny in the hereafter is OK. It's all so con-fuuuu-sing.
… But it's also confusing to believe in a god that is so astonishingly OCD and anal-retentive as to require these kinds of practices in the first place.
I wish mormons would use their energies to solve the real problems of the living — and no, I don't mean by being politically active in trying to further ridiculous conservative causes. (I guess work for the dead is in some ways a wash: every hour they spend doing work for the dead is one less hour fighting against gay rights and other progressive causes.)
Sigh.