Rick Just's Blog, page 218
October 29, 2018
The Bulging Elk
So, listening to NPR one morning on our way to work a few years back my wife and I heard a story about a painting of an elk that was being hung in some congressional office in Washington, DC. The reporter noted that it was a painting of a “bulging” elk. Whether the reporter was caught by a typo, or simply didn’t have a clue about elk did not matter. We couldn’t get the image of “bulging” elk out of our minds.
Had the reporter ever heard elk bugling he probably would have caught the error. A bugling elk is hard to forget, as is someone imitating an elk by applying what looks like a radiator hose to their lips and proceeding to make a series of whistling, gasping, alien sounds that would seem designed to attract a steam engine.
Whether or not you or I are attracted to the sound of a bugling elk is beside the point. Other elk find it well worth their notice, and this mating call seems to be working. Idaho has an abundance of elk. In 1935, when the Idaho began keeping records, there were 1,821 elk harvested in the state. That was three years before the citizen initiative that created the Idaho Department of Fish and Game, so there were likely some elk taken that weren’t counted. Elk harvest today is more than ten times that number, with 24,547 taken in 2015.
Not a few of those were lured to their demise by someone playing a weird tune on a modified radiator hose.
Elk numbers are likely much higher today than they were when Lewis and Clark trekked through what would become Idaho. Elk are creatures that like grassy, open spaces with trees nearby where they can quickly disappear. Such spaces have opened considerably by logging the past 150 years or so.
Had the reporter ever heard elk bugling he probably would have caught the error. A bugling elk is hard to forget, as is someone imitating an elk by applying what looks like a radiator hose to their lips and proceeding to make a series of whistling, gasping, alien sounds that would seem designed to attract a steam engine.
Whether or not you or I are attracted to the sound of a bugling elk is beside the point. Other elk find it well worth their notice, and this mating call seems to be working. Idaho has an abundance of elk. In 1935, when the Idaho began keeping records, there were 1,821 elk harvested in the state. That was three years before the citizen initiative that created the Idaho Department of Fish and Game, so there were likely some elk taken that weren’t counted. Elk harvest today is more than ten times that number, with 24,547 taken in 2015.
Not a few of those were lured to their demise by someone playing a weird tune on a modified radiator hose.
Elk numbers are likely much higher today than they were when Lewis and Clark trekked through what would become Idaho. Elk are creatures that like grassy, open spaces with trees nearby where they can quickly disappear. Such spaces have opened considerably by logging the past 150 years or so.
October 28, 2018
The Long Valley Ambush
In August, 1878, several horses were stolen by Indians from settlers living in (irony alert) Indian Valley, about 12 miles east of Cambridge. William Monday (or Munday), S.S. Smith (aka Three-Fingered Smith), Jake Groseclose, and Tom Healy set out to retrieve their stock. They were able to follow the tracks for about 40 miles to the falls on the Payette. An Idaho historical sign at milepost 115.4 on Idaho 55 marks the site today.
The Valley County IDGenWeb Project cites an account Ezekiel Sweet told about the incident: “In coming up the hill probably a quarter of a mile from the river the trail makes a turn to the north and runs up some heavy granite rocks some 20 feet above the trail. There are large cracks in the rock at this point, and the Indians had cut small pine brushes and stuck them in the crevices, shooting from behind them. Monday being in the lead three bullets struck him over the heart. You could cover all three with the palm of your hand. Healy crawled behind the rock and when he was found, there were thirteen empty shells around him. It always looked funny to me that these men, as well versed in Indians as they were, should have walked into a death trap.”
The Idaho Statesman, recounting the incident on September 15, 1878, reported that Groseclose was also killed, but that Smith got away. “Smith, however, being a man of experience in such matters, saw that they were completely outnumbered and at the mercy of the Indians, and not having dismounted from his mule, turned to flee, when he was fired upon by the Indians and shot through the thigh. The next shot took his mule from under him, and being on foot and running for life, he was again hit by a shot, which broke his arm.”
Some accounts say that Smith got away by hiding in a beaver house. In any case, he did find his way to safety. He estimated that 75 Indians had ambushed them. Army trackers concluded that there were only five Indians, but they never caught them.
Infantrymen buried the three men near where they were shot. The spelling of “Monday” on the marking is incorrect, according Aaron Parker who knew all three. It should be Munday. Photos courtesy of the Idaho State Historical Society physical file collection.
The Valley County IDGenWeb Project cites an account Ezekiel Sweet told about the incident: “In coming up the hill probably a quarter of a mile from the river the trail makes a turn to the north and runs up some heavy granite rocks some 20 feet above the trail. There are large cracks in the rock at this point, and the Indians had cut small pine brushes and stuck them in the crevices, shooting from behind them. Monday being in the lead three bullets struck him over the heart. You could cover all three with the palm of your hand. Healy crawled behind the rock and when he was found, there were thirteen empty shells around him. It always looked funny to me that these men, as well versed in Indians as they were, should have walked into a death trap.”
The Idaho Statesman, recounting the incident on September 15, 1878, reported that Groseclose was also killed, but that Smith got away. “Smith, however, being a man of experience in such matters, saw that they were completely outnumbered and at the mercy of the Indians, and not having dismounted from his mule, turned to flee, when he was fired upon by the Indians and shot through the thigh. The next shot took his mule from under him, and being on foot and running for life, he was again hit by a shot, which broke his arm.”
Some accounts say that Smith got away by hiding in a beaver house. In any case, he did find his way to safety. He estimated that 75 Indians had ambushed them. Army trackers concluded that there were only five Indians, but they never caught them.
Infantrymen buried the three men near where they were shot. The spelling of “Monday” on the marking is incorrect, according Aaron Parker who knew all three. It should be Munday. Photos courtesy of the Idaho State Historical Society physical file collection. October 27, 2018
That Noon Siren
If you were a resident of Crescent City, California who was visiting Idaho and happened to be in Blackfoot, you could be forgiven if you started looking for high ground at noon.
Okay, I admit that’s a tortured way to get into a story about Blackfoot’s noon siren. At least I didn’t make references to Greek mythology and those alluring rocks.
Noon whistles were common in factory towns where it signaled a lunch break. Noon sirens served the same function. Both were once also used to summon volunteer firefighters to the station when needed, which was often not at noon.
Blackfoot’s use of a noon siren probably started in 1919. I found the following article in the September 19, 1919 edition of the (Blackfoot) Idaho Republican, headlined, Electric Siren for Noon Whistle.
“The electric siren installed by the fire department under leadership of Fire Chief Fred Simon, which is heard to lift its penetrating voice exactly at 12 o’clock of each day, is apparently meeting with satisfaction, and if no discouragers of the good idea get busy soon, Mr. Simon states that he will have the siren accepted.”
The headline implies that there might once have been a whistle in Blackfoot that the siren replaced.
The siren Blackfoot uses today is probably from the 50s. The controls are in a big orange box with a Civil Defense logo on it. The horns are on a water tower. If you’re curious what it sounds like, go to YouTube and search for Blackfoot Idaho siren. Be sure to turn the volume all the way up.
Blackfoot Fire Chief Kevin Gray says, “People live and die by it.” The automated siren sometimes gets off a bit when the station tests its generator. “We hear about it,” Gray says. “People go to lunch when they hear the noon whistle, and they come back by the clock. If the whistle is late they’ve missed a little lunch time.”
Occasional proposals to do away with the siren have been met with stiff citizen resistance, so the tradition continues.
There are probably several town where noon sirens are part of the community tradition. I’ve heard the one in Blackfoot off and on since the mid-50s. What community sirens do you know about?
Okay, I admit that’s a tortured way to get into a story about Blackfoot’s noon siren. At least I didn’t make references to Greek mythology and those alluring rocks.
Noon whistles were common in factory towns where it signaled a lunch break. Noon sirens served the same function. Both were once also used to summon volunteer firefighters to the station when needed, which was often not at noon.
Blackfoot’s use of a noon siren probably started in 1919. I found the following article in the September 19, 1919 edition of the (Blackfoot) Idaho Republican, headlined, Electric Siren for Noon Whistle.
“The electric siren installed by the fire department under leadership of Fire Chief Fred Simon, which is heard to lift its penetrating voice exactly at 12 o’clock of each day, is apparently meeting with satisfaction, and if no discouragers of the good idea get busy soon, Mr. Simon states that he will have the siren accepted.”
The headline implies that there might once have been a whistle in Blackfoot that the siren replaced.
The siren Blackfoot uses today is probably from the 50s. The controls are in a big orange box with a Civil Defense logo on it. The horns are on a water tower. If you’re curious what it sounds like, go to YouTube and search for Blackfoot Idaho siren. Be sure to turn the volume all the way up.
Blackfoot Fire Chief Kevin Gray says, “People live and die by it.” The automated siren sometimes gets off a bit when the station tests its generator. “We hear about it,” Gray says. “People go to lunch when they hear the noon whistle, and they come back by the clock. If the whistle is late they’ve missed a little lunch time.”
Occasional proposals to do away with the siren have been met with stiff citizen resistance, so the tradition continues.
There are probably several town where noon sirens are part of the community tradition. I’ve heard the one in Blackfoot off and on since the mid-50s. What community sirens do you know about?
October 26, 2018
Chatcolet National Park
Beautiful Idaho has no national park within its borders. Yes, I know a sliver of Yellowstone crosses into Idaho, but we have no national park to call our own. We came close to having an early one.
Senator Weldon Heyburn, who was notorious for opposing public lands, nevertheless thought Idaho should have a national park. He liked the idea of having one between Plummr and St. Maries at what most people think is the southern end of Lake Coeur d’Alene. The area was really three lakes at the time, Benewah, Hidden, and Chatcolet. Heyburn wanted to call the place Chatcolet National Park. Even in 1908, when the proposal passed the U.S. Senate, those lakes would merge during high water with Lake Coeur d’Alene. Construction of the dam at Post Falls made that merging permanent, thus removing the distinction of separate lakes in the minds of many.
Chatcolet was a popular place to recreate in the early part of the Twentieth Century, with picnickers and nature lovers often taking a steamboat to the landing there. The area had long been home to the Coeur d’Alenes, who named it. Chatcolet, according to Lalia Boone’s Idaho Place Names , means “where animals are trapped.”
The Coeur d’Alene reservation was being whittled away to a fraction of its original size when Heyburn came up with the idea of a 5,500-acre national park. The bill didn’t make it through the house, but Congress threw Heyburn a bone, agreeing to sell the proposed park site to the State of Idaho. Idaho officials organized enough timber sales on the property to pay for the purchase.
Heyburn hated the idea of state parks, but Idaho named its first state park after him, anyway. Heyburn State Park is the oldest in the Pacific Northwest.
The Coeur d’Alene Tribe successfully sued the state for ownership of the bed of Lake Coeur d’Alene several years ago, but in an odd twist, Idaho still owns the lakebeds within the park boundaries.
Heyburn has undergone some major renovations in recent years, including a much-needed sewage disposal system, new trails, and a new park visitor center. Some parts of the park still show signs that this is Idaho’s oldest state park. Yes, it could use some campground and road improvements, but the place is worth a visit. You’ll see right away why Heyburn thought it was worthy of being Chatcolet National Park.
I don’t editorialize often in these posts, but here I go. Heyburn did not like state parks and he was an opponent of public lands. He already has a mountain and a community named in his honor. In my opinion it would be a small enough honor to the Native American heritage of the area to name it Chatcolet State Park. It was a name that Heyburn himself liked. What do you think?
Old postcard showing the swinging bridge at Chatcolet in the early part of the Twentieth Century. That's floating hotel on the right. Courtesy of the Mike Fritz Collection.
Senator Weldon Heyburn, who was notorious for opposing public lands, nevertheless thought Idaho should have a national park. He liked the idea of having one between Plummr and St. Maries at what most people think is the southern end of Lake Coeur d’Alene. The area was really three lakes at the time, Benewah, Hidden, and Chatcolet. Heyburn wanted to call the place Chatcolet National Park. Even in 1908, when the proposal passed the U.S. Senate, those lakes would merge during high water with Lake Coeur d’Alene. Construction of the dam at Post Falls made that merging permanent, thus removing the distinction of separate lakes in the minds of many.
Chatcolet was a popular place to recreate in the early part of the Twentieth Century, with picnickers and nature lovers often taking a steamboat to the landing there. The area had long been home to the Coeur d’Alenes, who named it. Chatcolet, according to Lalia Boone’s Idaho Place Names , means “where animals are trapped.”
The Coeur d’Alene reservation was being whittled away to a fraction of its original size when Heyburn came up with the idea of a 5,500-acre national park. The bill didn’t make it through the house, but Congress threw Heyburn a bone, agreeing to sell the proposed park site to the State of Idaho. Idaho officials organized enough timber sales on the property to pay for the purchase.
Heyburn hated the idea of state parks, but Idaho named its first state park after him, anyway. Heyburn State Park is the oldest in the Pacific Northwest.
The Coeur d’Alene Tribe successfully sued the state for ownership of the bed of Lake Coeur d’Alene several years ago, but in an odd twist, Idaho still owns the lakebeds within the park boundaries.
Heyburn has undergone some major renovations in recent years, including a much-needed sewage disposal system, new trails, and a new park visitor center. Some parts of the park still show signs that this is Idaho’s oldest state park. Yes, it could use some campground and road improvements, but the place is worth a visit. You’ll see right away why Heyburn thought it was worthy of being Chatcolet National Park.
I don’t editorialize often in these posts, but here I go. Heyburn did not like state parks and he was an opponent of public lands. He already has a mountain and a community named in his honor. In my opinion it would be a small enough honor to the Native American heritage of the area to name it Chatcolet State Park. It was a name that Heyburn himself liked. What do you think?
Old postcard showing the swinging bridge at Chatcolet in the early part of the Twentieth Century. That's floating hotel on the right. Courtesy of the Mike Fritz Collection.
October 25, 2018
That Golden Statehouse Statue
Charles Ostner immigrated from Austria to find his fortune in Idaho. He was working in the Florence area when he decided to make a grand gesture for his new home territory.
Ostner had some patience. It took him four years to carve the wooden statue of George Washington astride a horse that stands on the fourth floor of the Idaho statehouse today. Ostner modeled the statue in snow before committing it to pine. He studied the likeness of George Washington on a postage stamp to get the face right.
Ostner donated the statue to Idaho Territory in 1869. The Legislature granted him $2,500 for the work. It stood outside the statehouse for 65 years, before it was brought inside and gilded. It stood for years outside of the attorney general’s office, giving the secretary behind those glass doors an unobstructed view of the tail end of a golden horse. The statue was moved to the fourth floor during the 2007 renovation of the building.
Ostener died in 1913 and is buried in Morris Hill Cemetery in Boise.
Ostner had some patience. It took him four years to carve the wooden statue of George Washington astride a horse that stands on the fourth floor of the Idaho statehouse today. Ostner modeled the statue in snow before committing it to pine. He studied the likeness of George Washington on a postage stamp to get the face right.
Ostner donated the statue to Idaho Territory in 1869. The Legislature granted him $2,500 for the work. It stood outside the statehouse for 65 years, before it was brought inside and gilded. It stood for years outside of the attorney general’s office, giving the secretary behind those glass doors an unobstructed view of the tail end of a golden horse. The statue was moved to the fourth floor during the 2007 renovation of the building.
Ostener died in 1913 and is buried in Morris Hill Cemetery in Boise.
October 24, 2018
The Wagon Box Grave
Travel on the Oregon Trail was dangerous. Many catastrophes could overtake immigrants. Near present day Soda Springs, it was an Indian attack that brought the end to one family.
The monument below marks the first grave in what became Fairview Cemetery. In the summer of 1861 a wagon train came through the area on its way to Oregon Territory. They camped overnight near Soda Creek. In the morning, when the train started out, one family stayed behind to search for horses that had gotten away. They were not successful and had to stay another night. It would be their last. Sometime during the night they were attacked. Both parents and five children were killed.
The next day riders from the wagon train came back looking for them, only to discover the massacre. One man, George Goodheart, told of their burial: "We then covered them all up with quilts, and took the upper sideboards and sawed them so they would fit across the wagon box. We put some across over the old Folks' faces and some over the children's faces at the foot. Then we got some willows from Soda Creek and cut them so as to cover the whole length of the wagon box. We then spread quilts over them, covered them with dirt, and set four formation rocks, one at each corner."
A monument company in Logan, Utah would later donate a marker for the grave. It lists no names from the nearly forgotten family.
The monument below marks the first grave in what became Fairview Cemetery. In the summer of 1861 a wagon train came through the area on its way to Oregon Territory. They camped overnight near Soda Creek. In the morning, when the train started out, one family stayed behind to search for horses that had gotten away. They were not successful and had to stay another night. It would be their last. Sometime during the night they were attacked. Both parents and five children were killed.
The next day riders from the wagon train came back looking for them, only to discover the massacre. One man, George Goodheart, told of their burial: "We then covered them all up with quilts, and took the upper sideboards and sawed them so they would fit across the wagon box. We put some across over the old Folks' faces and some over the children's faces at the foot. Then we got some willows from Soda Creek and cut them so as to cover the whole length of the wagon box. We then spread quilts over them, covered them with dirt, and set four formation rocks, one at each corner."
A monument company in Logan, Utah would later donate a marker for the grave. It lists no names from the nearly forgotten family.
October 23, 2018
Sunken Ore
In the late 1880's many thousands of tons of ore were floated across Lake Coeur d'Alene from the Silver Valley mines in the Wallace and Kellogg area. The ore was loaded onto barges at Mission Landing near the Cataldo Mission, and towed by steamer down the Coeur d'Alene River and across the lake. In the winter the ice breaker Kootenai assisted with the job of transporting the ore.
Legend has it that late in the fall of 1889, the captain of the Kootenai received orders to bring two barges, each loaded with 150 tons of ore, down from Mission Landing. The Kootenai pushed one barge and towed the other for a while, but the captain had trouble breaking through the ice, that way.
He decided to tie up the front barge, leaving it behind, and tow the second barge on down to the ice-free lake.
As the story goes, about midnight, near McDonald's Point, on Lake Coeur d'Alene, something happened that caused the loose ore on the barge to shift. The barge tipped first one way, then the other, and 135 tons of high grade silver ore poured into the lake. That was about $15,000 worth in 1889.
So, is there a fortune in ore on the bottom of Lake Coeur d’Alene? The tale is told in the book Lost Treasures and Mines of the Pacific Northwest, by Ruby El Hult. A few other sources mention it, but I’ve yet to find a contemporaneous newspaper account of the incident. Divers have looked for it a few times, without reported success. North Idaho historians (and divers), what say you?
Legend has it that late in the fall of 1889, the captain of the Kootenai received orders to bring two barges, each loaded with 150 tons of ore, down from Mission Landing. The Kootenai pushed one barge and towed the other for a while, but the captain had trouble breaking through the ice, that way.
He decided to tie up the front barge, leaving it behind, and tow the second barge on down to the ice-free lake.
As the story goes, about midnight, near McDonald's Point, on Lake Coeur d'Alene, something happened that caused the loose ore on the barge to shift. The barge tipped first one way, then the other, and 135 tons of high grade silver ore poured into the lake. That was about $15,000 worth in 1889.
So, is there a fortune in ore on the bottom of Lake Coeur d’Alene? The tale is told in the book Lost Treasures and Mines of the Pacific Northwest, by Ruby El Hult. A few other sources mention it, but I’ve yet to find a contemporaneous newspaper account of the incident. Divers have looked for it a few times, without reported success. North Idaho historians (and divers), what say you?
October 22, 2018
The Legend of Paul Revere
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow should probably get top billing when you Google “Legend of Paul Revere.” Sorry, Hank, Google thinks most people will be looking for the B side of a record called “Him or Me - What's It Gonna Be” (lyrics below).
Nowadays, that legend is about a Caldwell burger flipper who made it big as the “Madman of Rock and Roll.”
Paul was going to make it big, somewhere. As a teenager he ran three barber shops and that Caldwell burger joint, called Reed and Bell Drive-In (a root beer brand name, something like A&W). Seeing opportunity in rock and roll, he began promoting dances, which led to him putting together a little rock band. At first, it was all about promoting the drive-in. Then Revere, who was Paul Revere Dick at that time, decided to make a tape. He and the band recorded a few songs at a crude little studio, and Paul took the tape to Hollywood.
That first trip to Tinsel Town set a pattern that Paul Revere would follow again and again. He would often pack up copies of a new single and set out on his Harley to hit radio stations around the country to get them to play the records.
In an interview conducted by Dominic Priore for the Sundazed website, Paul said, “I’d see a radio tower stickin’ out of a pasture somewhere, I’d just pull in there and talk fast and convince whoever’s on the air to listen to my record and do a little interview and away I’d go to the next place.”
In January, 1971, just a year after KFXD in Nampa started playing rock full time, Tom Scott was working the board when Paul Revere pulled up on his bike and dug out a new record. He thought maybe “Dream Room” might be a hit. Tom played that one, as well as the flip side. It was the first time “Indian Reservation” by Paul Revere and the Raiders was heard on the radio. It would not be the last. The song went platinum, becoming Paul Revere and the Raiders’ only million-selling record, and their only hit to make it to number one on the Billboard chart.
Maybe Paul Revere thought “Indian Reservation” would be the B side because it was a cover. Written by John D. Loudermilk, Marvin Rainwater released it in 1959 as “The Pale Faced Indian.” No one noticed. But in 1968 Don Fardon took the song to number 20 on the Billboard Hot 100.
One can safely say that Mark Lindsay, lead singer of Paul Revere and the Raiders, was happy about the hit. “Indian Reservation” was subtitled, “The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian.” Lindsay, who went to Wilder High School, is part Cherokee.
There’s much more to tell about Paul Revere. Stay tuned for a few more tales. This is one of dozens of snippets I was able to find about Paul Revere in the History of Idaho Broadcasting Foundation newsletter As the Turntable Turns. Thanks to Foundation President Art Gregory. I encourage you to become a member of the Foundation. They’re working on a physical museum that will be in the old KFXD building in Nampa.
The Legend of Paul Revere, written by Terry Melcher and Mark A. Lindsay, was included on the 1967 album Revolution!
Nowadays, that legend is about a Caldwell burger flipper who made it big as the “Madman of Rock and Roll.”
Paul was going to make it big, somewhere. As a teenager he ran three barber shops and that Caldwell burger joint, called Reed and Bell Drive-In (a root beer brand name, something like A&W). Seeing opportunity in rock and roll, he began promoting dances, which led to him putting together a little rock band. At first, it was all about promoting the drive-in. Then Revere, who was Paul Revere Dick at that time, decided to make a tape. He and the band recorded a few songs at a crude little studio, and Paul took the tape to Hollywood.
That first trip to Tinsel Town set a pattern that Paul Revere would follow again and again. He would often pack up copies of a new single and set out on his Harley to hit radio stations around the country to get them to play the records.
In an interview conducted by Dominic Priore for the Sundazed website, Paul said, “I’d see a radio tower stickin’ out of a pasture somewhere, I’d just pull in there and talk fast and convince whoever’s on the air to listen to my record and do a little interview and away I’d go to the next place.”
In January, 1971, just a year after KFXD in Nampa started playing rock full time, Tom Scott was working the board when Paul Revere pulled up on his bike and dug out a new record. He thought maybe “Dream Room” might be a hit. Tom played that one, as well as the flip side. It was the first time “Indian Reservation” by Paul Revere and the Raiders was heard on the radio. It would not be the last. The song went platinum, becoming Paul Revere and the Raiders’ only million-selling record, and their only hit to make it to number one on the Billboard chart.
Maybe Paul Revere thought “Indian Reservation” would be the B side because it was a cover. Written by John D. Loudermilk, Marvin Rainwater released it in 1959 as “The Pale Faced Indian.” No one noticed. But in 1968 Don Fardon took the song to number 20 on the Billboard Hot 100.
One can safely say that Mark Lindsay, lead singer of Paul Revere and the Raiders, was happy about the hit. “Indian Reservation” was subtitled, “The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian.” Lindsay, who went to Wilder High School, is part Cherokee.
There’s much more to tell about Paul Revere. Stay tuned for a few more tales. This is one of dozens of snippets I was able to find about Paul Revere in the History of Idaho Broadcasting Foundation newsletter As the Turntable Turns. Thanks to Foundation President Art Gregory. I encourage you to become a member of the Foundation. They’re working on a physical museum that will be in the old KFXD building in Nampa.
The Legend of Paul Revere, written by Terry Melcher and Mark A. Lindsay, was included on the 1967 album Revolution!
October 21, 2018
Idaho Plates
Today’s post owes much to Dan P. Smith’s little publication, A Complete Guide for Idaho License Plates and DAV Tags. Dan is a license plate collector and authority on Idaho plates.
I’m revisiting this subject because one of my readers asked when Idaho began using the numeral/letter county designators on license plates. The answer is 1932. Those designators have appeared ever since on most plates, but do not appear on specialty and personalized plates.
I was surprised to learn that there were Idaho plates issued before the state issued them. That is, six cities issued automobile license plates in the early years, starting in 1910. They are extremely rare. Only 14 are known to exist. Some were made of porcelain and some of steel. Some were made of leather by the car owners themselves and featured metal numbers of aluminum or brass. Issuing cities were Boise, Hailey, Lewiston, Nampa, Payette, Twin Falls, and Weiser.
State of Idaho plates were sold beginning in 1913. Motorcycle plates came along in 1915.
Information is hard to come by for plates issued before 1950. In 1950, according to Dan’s book, Idaho Governor C.A. Robbins offered the job of state transportation director to the Gooding County Assessor. The man wasn’t interested in the job, but did agree to travel the state visiting all 44 counties on a consulting basis to determine the needs of each county. The trip was reportedly a success, with many best practices implemented. While the man was out of his temporary office, someone decided it would be a good idea to clean it. They disposed of all the piles of paper and boxes of old records that were cluttering up the place. Those records happened to be the historic records of Idaho license plates.
Early license plates that cost a few dollars can fetch a few thousand dollars today, if they’re rare.
I guess I collect plates a bit, myself. Those pictured are some of the personalized plates I’ve used over the years. I still use the bottom two.
I’m revisiting this subject because one of my readers asked when Idaho began using the numeral/letter county designators on license plates. The answer is 1932. Those designators have appeared ever since on most plates, but do not appear on specialty and personalized plates.
I was surprised to learn that there were Idaho plates issued before the state issued them. That is, six cities issued automobile license plates in the early years, starting in 1910. They are extremely rare. Only 14 are known to exist. Some were made of porcelain and some of steel. Some were made of leather by the car owners themselves and featured metal numbers of aluminum or brass. Issuing cities were Boise, Hailey, Lewiston, Nampa, Payette, Twin Falls, and Weiser.
State of Idaho plates were sold beginning in 1913. Motorcycle plates came along in 1915.
Information is hard to come by for plates issued before 1950. In 1950, according to Dan’s book, Idaho Governor C.A. Robbins offered the job of state transportation director to the Gooding County Assessor. The man wasn’t interested in the job, but did agree to travel the state visiting all 44 counties on a consulting basis to determine the needs of each county. The trip was reportedly a success, with many best practices implemented. While the man was out of his temporary office, someone decided it would be a good idea to clean it. They disposed of all the piles of paper and boxes of old records that were cluttering up the place. Those records happened to be the historic records of Idaho license plates.
Early license plates that cost a few dollars can fetch a few thousand dollars today, if they’re rare.
I guess I collect plates a bit, myself. Those pictured are some of the personalized plates I’ve used over the years. I still use the bottom two.
October 20, 2018
The Morrisite War
We’re going to spend some time in Utah for this post. Trust me. We’ll get to the Idaho connection.
In 1857 Mormon convert Joseph Morris began seeing visions and getting messages from God. As this was in the tradition of the church, he felt he should get some recognition for being a chosen one. He began writing letters to church leader Brigham Young telling him of the visions and assuring the man that God had a plan for Young. He was to be second in command to Joseph Morris.
Brigham Young took little notice, never bothering to reply, though Morris continued to pester him with prophecies.
Morris began to gather disaffected Mormons around him and preach about God’s revelations. Some of the Mormons had been converted in faraway places such as Denmark. Their English was not good, and they were surprised and dismayed to learn about certain church practices such as polygamy when they found their way to Utah.
In 1861 Morris gathered his flock of about 300 believers in the newly named Church of the First Born at an old stockade called Kington Fort at what is now known as South Weber. As per the received wisdom of God, they planted no crops. What was the point? Jesus was on his way.
Jesus was delayed, several times, and as each appointment slid by with no savior, more and more Morrisites, which they were also called, grew disenchanted. Some of them felt they had not received supplies commensurate with what they had contributed to the commune upon their departure. Two men hijacked a Morrisite grain wagon to make things even. The Morrisites caught them and brought them back to the fort to be “tried by the Lord when he came.”
The wives of the captured men pleaded with the territorial government to intervene. Chief Justice John Kinney sent the U.S. Marshall with an order demanding their release. The Morrisites refused. So, Justice Kinney activated the territorial militia as a posse comitatus to arrest the Morrisite leaders. What became known as the Mormon Militia, led by Deputy U.S. Marshall Robert T. Burton, set out for Kington Fort. Once they arrived, Burton demanded the release of the men.
Morris refused, even with somewhere between 500 and 1,000 men gathered on the hills above the fort. When a 30-minute ultimatum came from Burton, Morris secluded himself to receive instructions from God.
The faithful gathered beneath a brush arbor to hear Morris tell them what God had told him. At that point a cannonball came bouncing into the fort and through the crowd, killing two women outright and shattering the jaw of a young girl.
The Morrisites held out for three days before finally surrendering. The surrender did not go well. In a final kerfuffle inside the fort, Burton shot and killed Morris. Others were also killed. The total tally of dead in the Morrisite War was 11, two of them militia members.
Morris’s body was put on display in front of city hall in Salt Lake City. In the subsequent trial, in 1863, 66 Morrisites were convicted of resistance and fined $100 each. Seven were convicted of second degree murder.
Fortunately for the Morrisites a new governor had been appointed to oversee Utah Territory. Within three days of their conviction, he pardoned all the Morrisites.
Leaving Utah was high on the to do list for most Morrisites. A hundred or so went to Carson City Nevada. One hundred and sixty opted to try the newly formed Idaho Territory to the north.
The Morrisites were escorted north by a contingent of troops from the California Volunteers, a group of men who had signed up for the military so they could fight on the side of the Union in the Civil War, but who found themselves instead stationed in Utah, fighting Indians and protecting apostates. They were led by Colonel Patrick E. Conner.
The soldiers created Camp Conner, near the present day city of Soda Springs, while the Morrisites started a town they named after their fallen leader, Morristown. Morristown would last only a few years before being subsumed by the community of Soda Springs. Many of the Morrisites moved north to help in the founding of Blackfoot. Others, still, moved to Deer Lodge, Montana where their Church of the First Born continued into the 1950s.
I’m a descendant of the Morrisites who founded Morristown and settled in the Blackfoot area. I often present a one-hour lecture on the Morrisite War at various venues around Idaho. If you want to learn more about the Morrisites I recommend two books. The first is the definitive historical examination by Dr. C. LeRoy Anderson, called Joseph Morris and the Saga of the Morrisites . The second, written by my great aunt Agnes Just Reid, is called Letters of Long Ago . I also invite you to listen to my YouTube presentation on the Morrisite War. For information on my program, please contact me through my website.
The only known photo of Joseph Morris, circa 1860.
In 1857 Mormon convert Joseph Morris began seeing visions and getting messages from God. As this was in the tradition of the church, he felt he should get some recognition for being a chosen one. He began writing letters to church leader Brigham Young telling him of the visions and assuring the man that God had a plan for Young. He was to be second in command to Joseph Morris.
Brigham Young took little notice, never bothering to reply, though Morris continued to pester him with prophecies.
Morris began to gather disaffected Mormons around him and preach about God’s revelations. Some of the Mormons had been converted in faraway places such as Denmark. Their English was not good, and they were surprised and dismayed to learn about certain church practices such as polygamy when they found their way to Utah.
In 1861 Morris gathered his flock of about 300 believers in the newly named Church of the First Born at an old stockade called Kington Fort at what is now known as South Weber. As per the received wisdom of God, they planted no crops. What was the point? Jesus was on his way.
Jesus was delayed, several times, and as each appointment slid by with no savior, more and more Morrisites, which they were also called, grew disenchanted. Some of them felt they had not received supplies commensurate with what they had contributed to the commune upon their departure. Two men hijacked a Morrisite grain wagon to make things even. The Morrisites caught them and brought them back to the fort to be “tried by the Lord when he came.”
The wives of the captured men pleaded with the territorial government to intervene. Chief Justice John Kinney sent the U.S. Marshall with an order demanding their release. The Morrisites refused. So, Justice Kinney activated the territorial militia as a posse comitatus to arrest the Morrisite leaders. What became known as the Mormon Militia, led by Deputy U.S. Marshall Robert T. Burton, set out for Kington Fort. Once they arrived, Burton demanded the release of the men.
Morris refused, even with somewhere between 500 and 1,000 men gathered on the hills above the fort. When a 30-minute ultimatum came from Burton, Morris secluded himself to receive instructions from God.
The faithful gathered beneath a brush arbor to hear Morris tell them what God had told him. At that point a cannonball came bouncing into the fort and through the crowd, killing two women outright and shattering the jaw of a young girl.
The Morrisites held out for three days before finally surrendering. The surrender did not go well. In a final kerfuffle inside the fort, Burton shot and killed Morris. Others were also killed. The total tally of dead in the Morrisite War was 11, two of them militia members.
Morris’s body was put on display in front of city hall in Salt Lake City. In the subsequent trial, in 1863, 66 Morrisites were convicted of resistance and fined $100 each. Seven were convicted of second degree murder.
Fortunately for the Morrisites a new governor had been appointed to oversee Utah Territory. Within three days of their conviction, he pardoned all the Morrisites.
Leaving Utah was high on the to do list for most Morrisites. A hundred or so went to Carson City Nevada. One hundred and sixty opted to try the newly formed Idaho Territory to the north.
The Morrisites were escorted north by a contingent of troops from the California Volunteers, a group of men who had signed up for the military so they could fight on the side of the Union in the Civil War, but who found themselves instead stationed in Utah, fighting Indians and protecting apostates. They were led by Colonel Patrick E. Conner.
The soldiers created Camp Conner, near the present day city of Soda Springs, while the Morrisites started a town they named after their fallen leader, Morristown. Morristown would last only a few years before being subsumed by the community of Soda Springs. Many of the Morrisites moved north to help in the founding of Blackfoot. Others, still, moved to Deer Lodge, Montana where their Church of the First Born continued into the 1950s.
I’m a descendant of the Morrisites who founded Morristown and settled in the Blackfoot area. I often present a one-hour lecture on the Morrisite War at various venues around Idaho. If you want to learn more about the Morrisites I recommend two books. The first is the definitive historical examination by Dr. C. LeRoy Anderson, called Joseph Morris and the Saga of the Morrisites . The second, written by my great aunt Agnes Just Reid, is called Letters of Long Ago . I also invite you to listen to my YouTube presentation on the Morrisite War. For information on my program, please contact me through my website.
The only known photo of Joseph Morris, circa 1860.
