Rick Just's Blog, page 159
June 13, 2020
The Lawyer Statue
This Statue is in the park next to the Borah Station Post Office near the statehouse in Boise. There is an identical statue on the campus of Lewis and Clark State College in Lewiston. The artwork is called Hospitality of the Nez Perce. It depicts Nez Perce Chief Twisted Hair discussing area geography with Meriwether Lewis and William Clark in Sept 1805. The chief’s son, Lawyer, portrayed at about age eight, inspects trade items at their feet: Nez Perce camas roots, a salmon, Euro-American cloth, and a knife.
Lawyer, or Hallalhotsoot as he was known to the Nez Perce, would become a chief himself in later life and play a prominent role in the Flight of the Nez Perce.
Doug Hyde created the statue. He is a nationally acclaimed Native American artist and Nez Perce descendent who grew up in Lewiston. The statue was donated to the State of Idaho in 2006 by Carol MacGregor, an Idaho native who was a rancher, professor, and the author of several books on Idaho history.
Lawyer, or Hallalhotsoot as he was known to the Nez Perce, would become a chief himself in later life and play a prominent role in the Flight of the Nez Perce.
Doug Hyde created the statue. He is a nationally acclaimed Native American artist and Nez Perce descendent who grew up in Lewiston. The statue was donated to the State of Idaho in 2006 by Carol MacGregor, an Idaho native who was a rancher, professor, and the author of several books on Idaho history.
June 12, 2020
Have Gun, Will Travel
Okay, I’m going to back into this one like I’m unloading a spud truck.
I got a hot tip about an Idaho author I wasn’t aware of. He was the guy who wrote the book, A Man Called Paladin , on which the television series, Have Gun, Will Travel was based. That series, which starred Richard Boone as Paladin, ran from 1957 to 1963. I remember the chess piece knight and the business card, which appeared in almost every episode. Those were impressionable years for me, so I turned to gunfighting as an adult.
Well, no, that’s not true. Nor is the TV series based on the book. Grab the children out of the way, I’m still backing into this thing.
Have Gun, Will Travel holds a couple of distinctions. It was one of only a handful of TV series that generated a radio series of the same name. The reverse—still in reverse here—was more often the case. Twenty-five of the episodes in the Western were written by Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek.
Just about to the loading dock, now.
A Man Called Paladin was written in 1964, the year after the TV series went off the air. It was written by a prolific author with solid Idaho roots, Frank Chester Robertson.
Okay, we’re parked now and ready to unload.
Frank Robertson was born in Moscow, Idaho in 1890, the year of Idaho’s statehood. At some point in his early childhood, Frank’s father became a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (LDS), and moved the family to Chesterfield, Idaho, which was founded by Mormon settlers in 1881.
Young Frank helped support the family by herding sheep while his father was away on LDS missions. In 1914 Robertson proved up on a 320-acre homestead east of Chesterfield and began raising a family. They would eventually move to Utah where he would write most of the 150 novels he is famous for.
Robertson’s first book, though, was written at his Chesterfield home. Called The Foreman of the Forty Bar , it first appeared in a national magazine, and then as a syndicated feature in several newspapers before being published in 1924. His most popular book memorialized his family’s experience at Chesterfield. It was written in 1950 and called A Ram in the Thicket: The Story of a Roaming Homesteader Family on the Mormon Frontier .
Frank Robertson passed away in 1969. Chesterfield is on the National Register of Historic Places, getting that distinction in 1980. Sadly, Robertson’s childhood cabin was dismantled and removed in 1978.
I got a hot tip about an Idaho author I wasn’t aware of. He was the guy who wrote the book, A Man Called Paladin , on which the television series, Have Gun, Will Travel was based. That series, which starred Richard Boone as Paladin, ran from 1957 to 1963. I remember the chess piece knight and the business card, which appeared in almost every episode. Those were impressionable years for me, so I turned to gunfighting as an adult.
Well, no, that’s not true. Nor is the TV series based on the book. Grab the children out of the way, I’m still backing into this thing.
Have Gun, Will Travel holds a couple of distinctions. It was one of only a handful of TV series that generated a radio series of the same name. The reverse—still in reverse here—was more often the case. Twenty-five of the episodes in the Western were written by Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek.
Just about to the loading dock, now.
A Man Called Paladin was written in 1964, the year after the TV series went off the air. It was written by a prolific author with solid Idaho roots, Frank Chester Robertson.
Okay, we’re parked now and ready to unload.
Frank Robertson was born in Moscow, Idaho in 1890, the year of Idaho’s statehood. At some point in his early childhood, Frank’s father became a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (LDS), and moved the family to Chesterfield, Idaho, which was founded by Mormon settlers in 1881.
Young Frank helped support the family by herding sheep while his father was away on LDS missions. In 1914 Robertson proved up on a 320-acre homestead east of Chesterfield and began raising a family. They would eventually move to Utah where he would write most of the 150 novels he is famous for.
Robertson’s first book, though, was written at his Chesterfield home. Called The Foreman of the Forty Bar , it first appeared in a national magazine, and then as a syndicated feature in several newspapers before being published in 1924. His most popular book memorialized his family’s experience at Chesterfield. It was written in 1950 and called A Ram in the Thicket: The Story of a Roaming Homesteader Family on the Mormon Frontier .
Frank Robertson passed away in 1969. Chesterfield is on the National Register of Historic Places, getting that distinction in 1980. Sadly, Robertson’s childhood cabin was dismantled and removed in 1978.
June 11, 2020
Farragut Post Cards
In yesterday’s post we looked at postcards that the Idaho Department of Agriculture made available to the “boots” at Farragut Naval Training Station during World War II. They all had a goofy potato theme and are popular with postcard collectors.
The Navy supplied postcards for the trainees at Farragut, too. They weren’t quite as colorful and didn’t feature any vegetables. The audio-visual department on the base, specificallySp(P)3c Stan Gelling, produced the postcards.
Boots could also buy a packet of black and white photos of base activities that they could send back home. No doubt the pictures were carefully staged to avoid giving any secrets away.
The Navy supplied postcards for the trainees at Farragut, too. They weren’t quite as colorful and didn’t feature any vegetables. The audio-visual department on the base, specificallySp(P)3c Stan Gelling, produced the postcards.
Boots could also buy a packet of black and white photos of base activities that they could send back home. No doubt the pictures were carefully staged to avoid giving any secrets away.
June 10, 2020
Potato Postcards
Idaho has always been creative about its potatoes. The license plate slogan has been a big part of that, and there’s currently a huge potato on a big truck touring the country and attracting attention.
Did you know about the postcards? There have been big-potato-on-a-truck postcards for years, mostly produced by postcard companies. It was the Idaho Department of Agriculture that came up with a creative series of postcards to offer to those military folks who trained here during World War II. The top four below were aimed at those stationed at Gowen Field in Boise, and the bottom two were for the “boots” training at Farragut Naval Training Station.
The cards are all signed by the artist, “Hager.” And that’s all I know about him or her. Does anyone else out there know anything about this cartoonist?
Did you know about the postcards? There have been big-potato-on-a-truck postcards for years, mostly produced by postcard companies. It was the Idaho Department of Agriculture that came up with a creative series of postcards to offer to those military folks who trained here during World War II. The top four below were aimed at those stationed at Gowen Field in Boise, and the bottom two were for the “boots” training at Farragut Naval Training Station.
The cards are all signed by the artist, “Hager.” And that’s all I know about him or her. Does anyone else out there know anything about this cartoonist?
June 9, 2020
The Dog Tax
So, I was recently doing a little research on dog taxes in Idaho because… well, who wouldn’t? Plus, I was intrigued by the photo below of an 1867 receipt for a dog tax in Boise.
I found that the Boise tax raised $200 in 1869 when it was $5 per canine. But I also stumbled across this snarky little piece from the Caldwell Tribune, of June 24, 1893, and decided to share it.
“It has accidently leaked out that the city council recently passed a number of ordinances relating to matters of considerable interest to the tax payers of Caldwell, among other things an important franchise has been granted, a dog tax has been levied and the salaries of officers have been fixed. It is regrettable that those matters should obtain publicity without the sanction of the council, and it is hoped that greater discretion will be exercised in the future. Every precaution should be used in preventing subjects of general concern from reaching the public ear. Many ill-advised city councils have, adapted the rule of officially publishing their ordinances, but the plan has not been found to work satisfactorily. It often engenders a spirit of criticism and opposition, extremely aggravating to the council and promotive of public discord. The proper time
for people to become apprised of such transactions is after all possibility of protest has expired.”
A bit of satire about local government is always welcome, is it not?
I found that the Boise tax raised $200 in 1869 when it was $5 per canine. But I also stumbled across this snarky little piece from the Caldwell Tribune, of June 24, 1893, and decided to share it.
“It has accidently leaked out that the city council recently passed a number of ordinances relating to matters of considerable interest to the tax payers of Caldwell, among other things an important franchise has been granted, a dog tax has been levied and the salaries of officers have been fixed. It is regrettable that those matters should obtain publicity without the sanction of the council, and it is hoped that greater discretion will be exercised in the future. Every precaution should be used in preventing subjects of general concern from reaching the public ear. Many ill-advised city councils have, adapted the rule of officially publishing their ordinances, but the plan has not been found to work satisfactorily. It often engenders a spirit of criticism and opposition, extremely aggravating to the council and promotive of public discord. The proper time
for people to become apprised of such transactions is after all possibility of protest has expired.”
A bit of satire about local government is always welcome, is it not?
June 8, 2020
Freezeout Hill
Today, when you travel north on State Highway 16 into Emmett, you glide down a gentle hill in the comfort of your car to arrive in the famous fruit-growing valley.
It was a little more difficult to descend into that valley in 1862. That was the year Tim Goodale first tried it. Goodale led some 338 wagons and 2,900 head of stock down the steep drop into the valley. He was the man who popularized the Goodale Cutoff, a northern spur of the Oregon Trail that left the main route near Fort Hall and rejoined it at the Powder River near present-day Baker City, Oregon.
The site got its name a couple of years later when a freighter and another wagon filled with valley residents tried the grade in the winter. The settlers rough-locked their wagon brakes in an attempt to skid it down the slopes. This method was sometimes called freezing the brakes.
Call it what you will, the wagon slid into a gulch and the settlers trudged back up the hill to spend the night with the freighter who had decided not to risk the descent. They spent a bitter night on the ridge, which froze the experience in their minds. They would later describe it as being “froze out of the valley.” That led to the naming of the place we know today as Freezeout Hill.
It was a little more difficult to descend into that valley in 1862. That was the year Tim Goodale first tried it. Goodale led some 338 wagons and 2,900 head of stock down the steep drop into the valley. He was the man who popularized the Goodale Cutoff, a northern spur of the Oregon Trail that left the main route near Fort Hall and rejoined it at the Powder River near present-day Baker City, Oregon.
The site got its name a couple of years later when a freighter and another wagon filled with valley residents tried the grade in the winter. The settlers rough-locked their wagon brakes in an attempt to skid it down the slopes. This method was sometimes called freezing the brakes.
Call it what you will, the wagon slid into a gulch and the settlers trudged back up the hill to spend the night with the freighter who had decided not to risk the descent. They spent a bitter night on the ridge, which froze the experience in their minds. They would later describe it as being “froze out of the valley.” That led to the naming of the place we know today as Freezeout Hill.
June 7, 2020
The Darkroom Cedar
Cedar trees have a smell that most people find pleasant. The natural oils of the tree are responsible for the scent, but their purpose isn’t so you can put your wedding dress in a cedar chest. Well, not exactly. The oils make the wood toxic to insects and fungus to protect the tree, which also helps protect your wedding dress.
Have you ever noticed that many old growth cedars are hollow? That’s because younger trees may not have developed the self-protecting oil yet, so the heartwood rotted. As the tree develops, it develops the oils it needs to stave off bugs and fungus, making for a strong shell but a hollow core. That’s great news for critters of various kinds that like to nest or hide inside.
It was also great news for photographers, in at least one instance. Charlie Poxleitner taught Civilian Conservation Corps students photography. This is a picture of their darkroom, near Avery. The darkroom was inside the hollow of a cedar tree. The picture is probably from the mid 1930s, and is part of the Idaho State Historical Society Digital Collection.
Have you ever noticed that many old growth cedars are hollow? That’s because younger trees may not have developed the self-protecting oil yet, so the heartwood rotted. As the tree develops, it develops the oils it needs to stave off bugs and fungus, making for a strong shell but a hollow core. That’s great news for critters of various kinds that like to nest or hide inside.
It was also great news for photographers, in at least one instance. Charlie Poxleitner taught Civilian Conservation Corps students photography. This is a picture of their darkroom, near Avery. The darkroom was inside the hollow of a cedar tree. The picture is probably from the mid 1930s, and is part of the Idaho State Historical Society Digital Collection.
June 6, 2020
Civil Rights in Idaho, Yesterday and Today
Boise saw what may have been Idaho’s largest gathering of citizens in support of human rights on Tuesday, June 2, 2020. Some 5,000 Idahoans came to participate in a vigil for George Floyd and other people of color who have died in no small part because of the color of their skin. While looting and destruction accompanied some rallies around the country, Boise’s gathering was peaceful.
Tensions across the country were high in April 1968 when Boise’s first civil rights rally took place. Martin Luther King Jr had been assassinated on April 4. On April 13, the Idaho Statesman reported that 39 people had been killed in rioting nationwide. That front-page story was secondary to coverage of the 700 people who rallied on the Capitol steps on Good Friday in support of civil rights.
A four-column headline read, “Negroes, Whites Join Voices, Hands in Statehouse Rally.” The Reverend Dwight Williams, pastor at Hillview Methodist Church, gave the opening invocation, which included the words, “seeking freedom,” but “come in peace.” Signs in the crowd read “We Shall Overcome,” “Idaho Awake,” and “Presbyterians Support Rights for Minorities, Indians, Negroes, Spanish Speaking Americans.” Led by the St. Paul Baptist Church Choir, the crowd sang spiritual numbers and clapped along.
The NAACP’s legislative committee chair, Paul Gordon, got some laughs when he alluded to local talk radio alleging “that outside provocateurs are stirring up our happy Negroes.”
There were calls during that first rally for a civil rights commission to be created in Idaho. It wasn’t long in coming. The Idaho Human Rights Act passed during the next Legislative session in 1969, creating the Idaho Human Rights Commission. Then Senator Phil Batt (R) was instrumental in creating the commission.
At least one person attended both the 1968 rally and the 2020 vigil, retiring Idaho State Senator Cherie Buckner-Webb (D).
Thanks to Phillip Thompson, board president of the Idaho Black History Museum for making me aware of this snapshot from Idaho history that reflects down the years into the present.
Tensions across the country were high in April 1968 when Boise’s first civil rights rally took place. Martin Luther King Jr had been assassinated on April 4. On April 13, the Idaho Statesman reported that 39 people had been killed in rioting nationwide. That front-page story was secondary to coverage of the 700 people who rallied on the Capitol steps on Good Friday in support of civil rights.
A four-column headline read, “Negroes, Whites Join Voices, Hands in Statehouse Rally.” The Reverend Dwight Williams, pastor at Hillview Methodist Church, gave the opening invocation, which included the words, “seeking freedom,” but “come in peace.” Signs in the crowd read “We Shall Overcome,” “Idaho Awake,” and “Presbyterians Support Rights for Minorities, Indians, Negroes, Spanish Speaking Americans.” Led by the St. Paul Baptist Church Choir, the crowd sang spiritual numbers and clapped along.
The NAACP’s legislative committee chair, Paul Gordon, got some laughs when he alluded to local talk radio alleging “that outside provocateurs are stirring up our happy Negroes.”
There were calls during that first rally for a civil rights commission to be created in Idaho. It wasn’t long in coming. The Idaho Human Rights Act passed during the next Legislative session in 1969, creating the Idaho Human Rights Commission. Then Senator Phil Batt (R) was instrumental in creating the commission.
At least one person attended both the 1968 rally and the 2020 vigil, retiring Idaho State Senator Cherie Buckner-Webb (D).
Thanks to Phillip Thompson, board president of the Idaho Black History Museum for making me aware of this snapshot from Idaho history that reflects down the years into the present.
June 5, 2020
City of Trees
Boise is known as the city of trees. Captain Benjamin Bonneville’s men were said to have proclaimed, “Les Bois, Les Bois!” (the trees, or the woods) when they first spotted the cottonwoods along the Boise River in 1833. One could understand their excitement after spending some days traipsing through the desert.
There are an estimated 3.5 billion trees in the city. Okay, that’s my estimate. It may be off a little.
Some of those trees have a claim to fame. The Anne Frank Memorial includes a chestnut grown from the seed of a tree she often talked about in her famous diary. One passage reads, "The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds glinting with silver as they swooped through the air, and we were so moved and entranced that we couldn't speak." Only 11 saplings came to the US from the original tree.
Over on the Basque Block, the Cyrus Jacobs-Uberuaga Boarding House has a large tree out front that came from the Gernika'ko Arbola or Tree of Gernika. The original tree was a gathering place for Basques since Spanish King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella stood beneath it and swore an oath to protect the Basques. William Wordsworth memorialized the tree in a sonnet called The Oak of Gernika.
The original oak in the Basque Country has been replanted several times from saved acorns. The resilience of the Tree of Gernika is legendary. In 1937 the city of Gernika was carpet-bombed by Spanish fascist dictator Francisco Franco. About 1,000 citizens were killed and the town was all but leveled. The Tree of Gernika remained intact. The incident was later depicted in Pablo Picasso’s painting, Guernica.
The Boise Gernika tree was planted in 1988 and is today robust with a healthy crop
of acorns each year.
Sadly, trees planted on the capitol grounds by Presidents Benjamin Harrison, Theodore Roosevelt, and William Howard Taft had to be cut down when the underground wings were added to the building (dedicated in 2010). Then Representative Max Black, who is a wood carver, salvaged wood from the trees so that local artists could work with it. Several examples of their art can be seen in the capitol’s statuary hall.
Another tree that once graced the capitol grounds was one grown from a seedling that went to the moon with the Apollo 11 astronauts. It came down during the statehouse expansion, too. Take heart, there is another moon tree in Boise. It came from a seed that went to the moon aboard Apollo 14, and it now grows on the grounds of Lowell Scott Elementary. It was planted in 1977.
One of the most beloved trees in Boise is the giant sequoia that stood for many years on St. Lukes property on Jefferson St. It was planted in 1912 by Dr. Fred Pittenger as a seedling sent to Boise by John Muir. The 98-foot-tall tree sported Christmas lights for many years. In the mid-80s arborists discovered that the lights had killed the top of the tree. They did some surgery, redirecting a healthy branch to serve as a new top. That’s what gives it the odd shape, almost as if a small tree is growing out of a large one (photo).
In preparation for new construction at St. Lukes, the massive tree was moved across the street in 2017. The move was carefully done, and the tree seems to be doing well. It could be a fixture in the city for a couple thousand years.
There are an estimated 3.5 billion trees in the city. Okay, that’s my estimate. It may be off a little.
Some of those trees have a claim to fame. The Anne Frank Memorial includes a chestnut grown from the seed of a tree she often talked about in her famous diary. One passage reads, "The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds glinting with silver as they swooped through the air, and we were so moved and entranced that we couldn't speak." Only 11 saplings came to the US from the original tree.
Over on the Basque Block, the Cyrus Jacobs-Uberuaga Boarding House has a large tree out front that came from the Gernika'ko Arbola or Tree of Gernika. The original tree was a gathering place for Basques since Spanish King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella stood beneath it and swore an oath to protect the Basques. William Wordsworth memorialized the tree in a sonnet called The Oak of Gernika.
The original oak in the Basque Country has been replanted several times from saved acorns. The resilience of the Tree of Gernika is legendary. In 1937 the city of Gernika was carpet-bombed by Spanish fascist dictator Francisco Franco. About 1,000 citizens were killed and the town was all but leveled. The Tree of Gernika remained intact. The incident was later depicted in Pablo Picasso’s painting, Guernica.
The Boise Gernika tree was planted in 1988 and is today robust with a healthy crop
of acorns each year.
Sadly, trees planted on the capitol grounds by Presidents Benjamin Harrison, Theodore Roosevelt, and William Howard Taft had to be cut down when the underground wings were added to the building (dedicated in 2010). Then Representative Max Black, who is a wood carver, salvaged wood from the trees so that local artists could work with it. Several examples of their art can be seen in the capitol’s statuary hall.
Another tree that once graced the capitol grounds was one grown from a seedling that went to the moon with the Apollo 11 astronauts. It came down during the statehouse expansion, too. Take heart, there is another moon tree in Boise. It came from a seed that went to the moon aboard Apollo 14, and it now grows on the grounds of Lowell Scott Elementary. It was planted in 1977.
One of the most beloved trees in Boise is the giant sequoia that stood for many years on St. Lukes property on Jefferson St. It was planted in 1912 by Dr. Fred Pittenger as a seedling sent to Boise by John Muir. The 98-foot-tall tree sported Christmas lights for many years. In the mid-80s arborists discovered that the lights had killed the top of the tree. They did some surgery, redirecting a healthy branch to serve as a new top. That’s what gives it the odd shape, almost as if a small tree is growing out of a large one (photo).
In preparation for new construction at St. Lukes, the massive tree was moved across the street in 2017. The move was carefully done, and the tree seems to be doing well. It could be a fixture in the city for a couple thousand years.
June 4, 2020
Idaho's Normal Schools, Part Two
Yesterday I gave a little history of the Albion State Normal School in southern Idaho. In 1893 the Idaho State Legislature authorized two normal schools, one in Albion and the other in Lewiston. Funding for those schools was slow in coming. It became up to the towns where the schools would reside to get them going.
The City of Lewiston donated 10 acres in a city park as the site for the new normal school. The “park” was little more than a sandy, barren hill, soon to be known as Normal Hill.
Construction of the first campus building went on in fits and starts until 1895 when the Legislature issued bonds to pay for its completion. That assurance, and the sight of a building going up, encouraged the new president of the school, George Knepper, to get things going. He found temporary space in a downtown building to begin classes. Forty-six students were in that first class in January 1896. In the fall, classes would begin on campus.
That first campus building (picture), which still stands, was later named James W. Reid Centennial Hall in honor of the man who lobbied successfully for creation of the school. Today it is the center for student services and holds administrative offices and classrooms.
The school expanded to offer 4-year degrees in 1943 and became the Northern Idaho College of Education in 1947.
As mentioned yesterday, the Idaho Legislature commissioned a study of Idaho’s higher education institutions in. 1946. That study resulted in the closure of both the Northern Idaho College of Education and Albion Normal School in 1951.
Albion never did reopen, but in 1955 the Lewiston campus got going again as the Lewis-Clark Normal School. It originally operated as a branch of Idaho State University, offering degrees for elementary school teachers. In 1963 the Legislature gave Lewis-Clark its autonomy as an independent undergraduate institution. Its role was expanded in 1965 to include practical and associate degrees in nursing. Then, in 1971 the Idaho Legislature changed the name to Lewis-Clark State College.
Today the college offers a variety of undergraduate degrees in liberal arts, sciences, business, technical programs, and education.
The City of Lewiston donated 10 acres in a city park as the site for the new normal school. The “park” was little more than a sandy, barren hill, soon to be known as Normal Hill.
Construction of the first campus building went on in fits and starts until 1895 when the Legislature issued bonds to pay for its completion. That assurance, and the sight of a building going up, encouraged the new president of the school, George Knepper, to get things going. He found temporary space in a downtown building to begin classes. Forty-six students were in that first class in January 1896. In the fall, classes would begin on campus.
That first campus building (picture), which still stands, was later named James W. Reid Centennial Hall in honor of the man who lobbied successfully for creation of the school. Today it is the center for student services and holds administrative offices and classrooms.
The school expanded to offer 4-year degrees in 1943 and became the Northern Idaho College of Education in 1947.
As mentioned yesterday, the Idaho Legislature commissioned a study of Idaho’s higher education institutions in. 1946. That study resulted in the closure of both the Northern Idaho College of Education and Albion Normal School in 1951.
Albion never did reopen, but in 1955 the Lewiston campus got going again as the Lewis-Clark Normal School. It originally operated as a branch of Idaho State University, offering degrees for elementary school teachers. In 1963 the Legislature gave Lewis-Clark its autonomy as an independent undergraduate institution. Its role was expanded in 1965 to include practical and associate degrees in nursing. Then, in 1971 the Idaho Legislature changed the name to Lewis-Clark State College.
Today the college offers a variety of undergraduate degrees in liberal arts, sciences, business, technical programs, and education.
