Rick Just's Blog, page 230
June 28, 2018
The Liberty Bell Takes a Vacation
Have you seen the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia? Or, are you waiting for it to come to you?
Getting a visit from the bell is unlikely today, but it once travelled quite a lot to fairs and patriotic assemblages. On its most recent trip from Philadelphia it made it all the way to Idaho. That was over a hundred years ago.
The Liberty Bell was the centerpiece of a bond drive to support World War I. Mounted on a railroad flatcar it toured the United States in 1915 on its way to the Panama-Pacific International exposition in San Francisco and back. By some estimates, half the people in the country turned out to see it.
The bell was on view in Boise from 7:15 to 8 am, July 13, 1915. Between 15,000 and 20,000 people came to see it. The arrival of the bell was front page news in the Meridian Times even though the bell didn’t make a stop in Meridian. It did slow down. About 8,000 people turned out in Caldwell for the 25-minute stop there, before it steamed away into Oregon for the final leg of its trip to San Francisco.
The bell was then, and remains today, a beloved US icon. Why, exactly? Partly because of its inscription, and partly because of a popular fiction that grew up around it.
The bell was cast in London in 1752, commissioned by the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly, and inscribed with a quote from Leviticus, “Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof.”
The bell cracked right away when it was first rung in Philadelphia. It was twice recast to repair it.
A popular story had it that the bell rang out on July 4, 1776, announcing the Declaration of Independence. No such announcement was made that day, but historians agree it was probably one of many bells that rang in the city on July 8, when the announcement was made.
The original crack having been repaired, the bell cracked again—and remained so—sometime in the early 19th century.
As a symbol of liberty, it was a war bond star. Americans bought an average of $170 each in the Liberty Bell war bond drives.
Getting a visit from the bell is unlikely today, but it once travelled quite a lot to fairs and patriotic assemblages. On its most recent trip from Philadelphia it made it all the way to Idaho. That was over a hundred years ago.
The Liberty Bell was the centerpiece of a bond drive to support World War I. Mounted on a railroad flatcar it toured the United States in 1915 on its way to the Panama-Pacific International exposition in San Francisco and back. By some estimates, half the people in the country turned out to see it.
The bell was on view in Boise from 7:15 to 8 am, July 13, 1915. Between 15,000 and 20,000 people came to see it. The arrival of the bell was front page news in the Meridian Times even though the bell didn’t make a stop in Meridian. It did slow down. About 8,000 people turned out in Caldwell for the 25-minute stop there, before it steamed away into Oregon for the final leg of its trip to San Francisco.
The bell was then, and remains today, a beloved US icon. Why, exactly? Partly because of its inscription, and partly because of a popular fiction that grew up around it.
The bell was cast in London in 1752, commissioned by the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly, and inscribed with a quote from Leviticus, “Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof.”
The bell cracked right away when it was first rung in Philadelphia. It was twice recast to repair it.
A popular story had it that the bell rang out on July 4, 1776, announcing the Declaration of Independence. No such announcement was made that day, but historians agree it was probably one of many bells that rang in the city on July 8, when the announcement was made.
The original crack having been repaired, the bell cracked again—and remained so—sometime in the early 19th century.
As a symbol of liberty, it was a war bond star. Americans bought an average of $170 each in the Liberty Bell war bond drives.
June 27, 2018
Idaho's Hillside Letters
Have you ever given any thought to the big letter on the hills above your town? You know, the A above Arco, the B on Table Rock in Boise, the C on the hillside above Cambridge, etc.
According to Wikipedia, there are at least 35 letters on hillsides in Idaho, and maybe as many as 42. Most of them are the first letter of the town’s name, or a letter representing a local high school sports team. Franklin, the first town founded in Idaho Territory, has its big F, but above that are the numerals 1860 for the year it was founded.
Pocatello had a big concrete I on Red Hill representing Idaho State University for many years. It was placed there in 1927. Travelers going south on I-15 knew it as a Pocatello landmark. But in 2014 it was removed because of the risk of a hillside collapse due to heavy erosion. The fear was that the concrete initial might come crashing down on trail users below.
In the book Quintessential Boise, An Architectural Journey, by Charles Hummel, Tim Woodward, and others, they say the B on Table Rock above the Old Idaho Penitentiary, was placed there in 1931 by Ward Rolfe, Bob Krummes, Kenneth Robertson, and Simeon Coonrood, who were proud graduates of Boise High. As is the case with many such letters, the rocks often get a coat of paint to make them stand out.
Does your town have a letter? Post a picture in the comments section so we can all get a look. Do you have a story that goes along with the letter? An artifact of aliens, perhaps, or the site of your wedding proposal. Please share that, too.
According to Wikipedia, there are at least 35 letters on hillsides in Idaho, and maybe as many as 42. Most of them are the first letter of the town’s name, or a letter representing a local high school sports team. Franklin, the first town founded in Idaho Territory, has its big F, but above that are the numerals 1860 for the year it was founded.
Pocatello had a big concrete I on Red Hill representing Idaho State University for many years. It was placed there in 1927. Travelers going south on I-15 knew it as a Pocatello landmark. But in 2014 it was removed because of the risk of a hillside collapse due to heavy erosion. The fear was that the concrete initial might come crashing down on trail users below.
In the book Quintessential Boise, An Architectural Journey, by Charles Hummel, Tim Woodward, and others, they say the B on Table Rock above the Old Idaho Penitentiary, was placed there in 1931 by Ward Rolfe, Bob Krummes, Kenneth Robertson, and Simeon Coonrood, who were proud graduates of Boise High. As is the case with many such letters, the rocks often get a coat of paint to make them stand out.
Does your town have a letter? Post a picture in the comments section so we can all get a look. Do you have a story that goes along with the letter? An artifact of aliens, perhaps, or the site of your wedding proposal. Please share that, too.
June 26, 2018
Those Farragut Postcards
In an earlier 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. They were produced by the audio-visual department on the base by Sp(P)3c Stan Gelling.
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. They were produced by the audio-visual department on the base by Sp(P)3c Stan Gelling.
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 25, 2018
Idaho's First White Settler
The name Idaho may not yet have been invented in 1840 when William Craig became the first permanent settler within the bounds of what would become the 43rd state.
Born in Virginia in 1807, Craig was about 18 when he joined a group of trappers associated with the American Fur Company. In 1836 he and two other trappers established the Fort Davy Crockett trading post in what is now Colorado. When the fur trade there started to wane, he went west with his frontiersmen friends Joe Meek and Robert Newell. Those men ended up in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, but Craig, who had fallen in love with a Nez Perce woman, decided to settle in her homeland near present day Lapwai.
His Nimiipuu wife was called Pahtissah by her family, but Craig called her Isabel. The mission of Henry and Eliza Spalding was not far away. The Spaldings had established their mission in 1836, so theirs counts as the first white home in Idaho, but they left in 1847 after their missionary friends, Marcus and Narcissa Whitman were killed by Cayuse Indians at their mission near Walla Walla.
Spalding didn’t care much for Craig, but did value his ability to communicate with the Nez Perce. The Spaldings found the Craig home a handy refuge when they decided to abandon their mission.
Craig’s reputation for good relations with the natives served him well. He was an Indian agent to the Nez Perce and served the same role for a time at Fort Boise.
When the Nez Perce negotiated the treaty of 1855, they honored their friend by giving him 640 acres inside their new reservation.
Craig was not only the first permanent settler, but he was credited with coming up with the name of what would become Idaho. A lot of people have been credited with that, and it is widely disputed. In this case, it was frontiersman, poet, and newspaper editor Joaquin Miller who claimed William Craig knew it as the Indian word “E-dah-Hoe,” meaning “the light on the line of the mountains” In 1861.
William Craig died in 1869 and is buried near his home in the Jacques Spur Cemetery, also called the Craig Cemetery. Craig Mountain Plateau, between the Snake, Salmon, and Clearwater rivers is named in his honor.
Born in Virginia in 1807, Craig was about 18 when he joined a group of trappers associated with the American Fur Company. In 1836 he and two other trappers established the Fort Davy Crockett trading post in what is now Colorado. When the fur trade there started to wane, he went west with his frontiersmen friends Joe Meek and Robert Newell. Those men ended up in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, but Craig, who had fallen in love with a Nez Perce woman, decided to settle in her homeland near present day Lapwai.
His Nimiipuu wife was called Pahtissah by her family, but Craig called her Isabel. The mission of Henry and Eliza Spalding was not far away. The Spaldings had established their mission in 1836, so theirs counts as the first white home in Idaho, but they left in 1847 after their missionary friends, Marcus and Narcissa Whitman were killed by Cayuse Indians at their mission near Walla Walla.
Spalding didn’t care much for Craig, but did value his ability to communicate with the Nez Perce. The Spaldings found the Craig home a handy refuge when they decided to abandon their mission.
Craig’s reputation for good relations with the natives served him well. He was an Indian agent to the Nez Perce and served the same role for a time at Fort Boise.
When the Nez Perce negotiated the treaty of 1855, they honored their friend by giving him 640 acres inside their new reservation.
Craig was not only the first permanent settler, but he was credited with coming up with the name of what would become Idaho. A lot of people have been credited with that, and it is widely disputed. In this case, it was frontiersman, poet, and newspaper editor Joaquin Miller who claimed William Craig knew it as the Indian word “E-dah-Hoe,” meaning “the light on the line of the mountains” In 1861.
William Craig died in 1869 and is buried near his home in the Jacques Spur Cemetery, also called the Craig Cemetery. Craig Mountain Plateau, between the Snake, Salmon, and Clearwater rivers is named in his honor.
June 24, 2018
A Unique 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 23, 2018
Rooms to Let Fifty Cents
There seems to be one indisputable fact about Roger Miller’s hit “King of the Road.” He wrote it. But where did he write it? That this would even be a question of interest is somewhat puzzling. Sure, it was a big hit. But why would people argue about its provenance?
Miller’s concert chat seems to have been the reason for the confusion. He would often toss out a line about where he wrote the song, or where he first saw the sign that became the first line, “Trailers for sale or rent.” He mentioned seeing it in Chicago; Kitchener, Ontario, and Indiana. He bought a little statue of a hobo someplace that is said to have inspired him. One of those places was the Boise airport.
Miller often said from the stage that the song was written in Boise, Idaho. I like that version because I heard it first from a man who claimed to have been there when it was written.
Bob Weisenberger was the manager of KGEM radio in Boise, where I worked for about six years. He told of sitting in a hotel room listening to Roger Miller jam with Boxcar Willie following Miller’s performance at the Snake River Stampede in Nampa. Boxcar Willie became a concert draw himself over the following couple of decades, and he even had a minor hit with a cover of “King of the Road.” At the time this took place, probably 1964, Boxcar Willie was a DJ at KGEM, using the name Marty Martin.
Many reports about the genesis of “King of the Road” say it was written at the Idanha. It’s such an iconic Boise hotel that those reports just seem right. Maybe not. Miller himself reminded the crowd gathered for a press conference in 1972 to promote another appearance at the Snake River Stampede that he had written the song while staying at the Hotel Boise.
Wherever he wrote it—and it was probably written over a period of at least weeks, perhaps coming together finally in Boise—Miller would never need to work “two hours of pushin’ broom” for his accommodations after its release. The song won 1965 Grammy awards for Best Contemporary Rock 'N Roll Single, Best Contemporary Vocal Performance, Best Country & Western Recording, Best Country Vocal Performance, and Best Country Song.
Miller’s concert chat seems to have been the reason for the confusion. He would often toss out a line about where he wrote the song, or where he first saw the sign that became the first line, “Trailers for sale or rent.” He mentioned seeing it in Chicago; Kitchener, Ontario, and Indiana. He bought a little statue of a hobo someplace that is said to have inspired him. One of those places was the Boise airport.
Miller often said from the stage that the song was written in Boise, Idaho. I like that version because I heard it first from a man who claimed to have been there when it was written.
Bob Weisenberger was the manager of KGEM radio in Boise, where I worked for about six years. He told of sitting in a hotel room listening to Roger Miller jam with Boxcar Willie following Miller’s performance at the Snake River Stampede in Nampa. Boxcar Willie became a concert draw himself over the following couple of decades, and he even had a minor hit with a cover of “King of the Road.” At the time this took place, probably 1964, Boxcar Willie was a DJ at KGEM, using the name Marty Martin.
Many reports about the genesis of “King of the Road” say it was written at the Idanha. It’s such an iconic Boise hotel that those reports just seem right. Maybe not. Miller himself reminded the crowd gathered for a press conference in 1972 to promote another appearance at the Snake River Stampede that he had written the song while staying at the Hotel Boise.
Wherever he wrote it—and it was probably written over a period of at least weeks, perhaps coming together finally in Boise—Miller would never need to work “two hours of pushin’ broom” for his accommodations after its release. The song won 1965 Grammy awards for Best Contemporary Rock 'N Roll Single, Best Contemporary Vocal Performance, Best Country & Western Recording, Best Country Vocal Performance, and Best Country Song.
June 22, 2018
The Big Show Offered more than they Expected
The first circus to appear in Idaho Territory put on a show August 6, 1864 in Boise. It was Don Rice’s circus, which the Idaho Statesman at the time noted “everyone has seen…in one part of the world or another.”
World renown was apparently the norm for circuses. The ad below is from the Idaho Statesman, June 8, 1865. Note that it is billed as the “most attractive performance ever presented to the world.” And only a buck!
Hyperbole aside, those circuses couldn’t match the spectacle that took place in Hailey as reported in the Daily Wood River Times on August 4, 1884. If you tend to get queasy about animal injury, skip this.
The headline about Cole’s Circus said, “Samson, the Huge Elephant, on the Rampage—Two Horses Killed, Four Wagons, and Three Railway Cars Derailed—Forty or Fifty Shots Fired at Him Without Effect.” The story took up the entire front page.
Samson the elephant escaped its handlers perhaps when a dog barked and another bit him on the trunk. This angered Samson so much that he attacked the lion cage, rolling it over three times and breaking two of the bars, but not freeing the lions. Circus men came with sledge hammers and crowbars trying to guide the elephant. Local men ran to Hailey Iron Works with the idea that bars heated white hot might serve to control the him. Meanwhile, two men on horseback—perhaps descended from Paul Revere—loped down Main Street yelling, “Samson is loose—smashing things. Get some guns to shoot him!”
Samson was crushing wagons and horses on his way toward town where he met up with a circus hand brandishing a white-hot poker, which he applied to Samson’s leg. The elephant howled and proceeded into town.
“At this time,” the Times reported, “there were fully 3,000 persons on the ground, looking on and following the movements of the mammoth with the…most intense excitement.”
And what about all that shouting for guns? “The cavaliers who ran to Main street to look for gun-men did not search in vain. Instantly 15 or 20 guns of all description, from the small bird shotgun to the heaviest two-ounce Winchester, were produced, and started for the scene of the rampage. An elephant hunt was just what the sports of Hailey had longed for for a long time.”
The men with rifles blasted away at the elephant with seemingly little effect, other than to turn him toward the railroad tracks. There he encountered a rail car loaded with ties, butting it with his head, then turning it over, knocking two more tie cars off the tracks. The ties, scattered around like matchsticks, made it difficult for Sampson to stand. This gave the circus men a chance to get ropes around him. After all that he was reportedly lead back to his tent “gentle as a lamb.”
At least six or seven shots the animal suffered seemed serious, but his trainer, Mr. Conklin, assured that he would “heal in a week or two.” The man said that, “about once a year… Samson gets vicious and is apt to give lots of trouble. But after the spell is over he is all right for another year.”
The paper speculated that the incident may have started when Samson saw “one of the smaller elephants caressing one of the females and possibly making an appointment with her.”
World renown was apparently the norm for circuses. The ad below is from the Idaho Statesman, June 8, 1865. Note that it is billed as the “most attractive performance ever presented to the world.” And only a buck!
Hyperbole aside, those circuses couldn’t match the spectacle that took place in Hailey as reported in the Daily Wood River Times on August 4, 1884. If you tend to get queasy about animal injury, skip this.
The headline about Cole’s Circus said, “Samson, the Huge Elephant, on the Rampage—Two Horses Killed, Four Wagons, and Three Railway Cars Derailed—Forty or Fifty Shots Fired at Him Without Effect.” The story took up the entire front page.
Samson the elephant escaped its handlers perhaps when a dog barked and another bit him on the trunk. This angered Samson so much that he attacked the lion cage, rolling it over three times and breaking two of the bars, but not freeing the lions. Circus men came with sledge hammers and crowbars trying to guide the elephant. Local men ran to Hailey Iron Works with the idea that bars heated white hot might serve to control the him. Meanwhile, two men on horseback—perhaps descended from Paul Revere—loped down Main Street yelling, “Samson is loose—smashing things. Get some guns to shoot him!”
Samson was crushing wagons and horses on his way toward town where he met up with a circus hand brandishing a white-hot poker, which he applied to Samson’s leg. The elephant howled and proceeded into town.
“At this time,” the Times reported, “there were fully 3,000 persons on the ground, looking on and following the movements of the mammoth with the…most intense excitement.”
And what about all that shouting for guns? “The cavaliers who ran to Main street to look for gun-men did not search in vain. Instantly 15 or 20 guns of all description, from the small bird shotgun to the heaviest two-ounce Winchester, were produced, and started for the scene of the rampage. An elephant hunt was just what the sports of Hailey had longed for for a long time.”
The men with rifles blasted away at the elephant with seemingly little effect, other than to turn him toward the railroad tracks. There he encountered a rail car loaded with ties, butting it with his head, then turning it over, knocking two more tie cars off the tracks. The ties, scattered around like matchsticks, made it difficult for Sampson to stand. This gave the circus men a chance to get ropes around him. After all that he was reportedly lead back to his tent “gentle as a lamb.”
At least six or seven shots the animal suffered seemed serious, but his trainer, Mr. Conklin, assured that he would “heal in a week or two.” The man said that, “about once a year… Samson gets vicious and is apt to give lots of trouble. But after the spell is over he is all right for another year.”
The paper speculated that the incident may have started when Samson saw “one of the smaller elephants caressing one of the females and possibly making an appointment with her.”
May 22, 2017
How many Idaho state parks are there?
One of the most common questions I get is, how many state parks are there in Idaho? Right now, 30 with an asterisk.
Idaho has always had a hard time defining the term state park. For decades one meaning was something like: any land owned by the state of Idaho that invited citizens to use it. That included rest areas and roadside stops that happened to have a picnic table. As a result, state parks were managed at various times by the Idaho Department of Transportation, Public Works, and the Idaho Department of Lands. It wasn’t until 1965 that a dedicated state parks agency was formed.
Today’s “30” state parks include at least one you’ve never heard of and is difficult to visit and one that isn’t actually managed as a state park anymore.
Mowry State Park, on Lake Coeur d’Alene, became a state park in 1972 when the Mowry family made a partial donation of the property to the state. It’s the one you’ve probably never heard of. The property is on two small peninsulas with a beautiful beach between the two. The problem is that the state doesn’t own the beach. It hoped to acquire it, but was unsuccessful. That left one peninsula that is two high about the water and two small to be of much use, and another peninsula that can be reached only by boat. That one, called Gasser Point, is managed as a boat-in picnic site by Kootenai County Parks and Waterways.
Veterans Park in Boise used to be known as Veterans Memorial State Park, beginning in 1982. The Idaho Department of Parks and Recreation (IDPR) turned management of the site over to Boise Parks and Recreation in 1997. You won’t see signs there calling it a state park, but it’s still listed as such in statute, and is still owned by the State of Idaho.
Another thing that makes counting state parks confusing is local usage. Many people call Malad Gorge, Billingsley Creek, Box Canyon, Ritter Island, and Niagara Springs state parks. IDPR calls them “units” of Thousand Springs State Park.
Even this nifty IDPR poster created by Boise artist Ward Hooper shows only 27 state parks, which is off from the “official” count of 30 in statute. Why? Well, they didn’t bother creating a logo for Mowry or Veterans because see above. And—I’m just speculating here—they didn’t order a logo for Glade Creek State Park because of the nature of the place. Glade Creek, on Lolo Pass, was where Lewis and Clark first made camp in what would become Idaho. IDPR manages the site as a natural area and doesn’t encourage use other than brief visits to the interpretive overlook. So, you do the math!
Idaho has always had a hard time defining the term state park. For decades one meaning was something like: any land owned by the state of Idaho that invited citizens to use it. That included rest areas and roadside stops that happened to have a picnic table. As a result, state parks were managed at various times by the Idaho Department of Transportation, Public Works, and the Idaho Department of Lands. It wasn’t until 1965 that a dedicated state parks agency was formed.
Today’s “30” state parks include at least one you’ve never heard of and is difficult to visit and one that isn’t actually managed as a state park anymore.
Mowry State Park, on Lake Coeur d’Alene, became a state park in 1972 when the Mowry family made a partial donation of the property to the state. It’s the one you’ve probably never heard of. The property is on two small peninsulas with a beautiful beach between the two. The problem is that the state doesn’t own the beach. It hoped to acquire it, but was unsuccessful. That left one peninsula that is two high about the water and two small to be of much use, and another peninsula that can be reached only by boat. That one, called Gasser Point, is managed as a boat-in picnic site by Kootenai County Parks and Waterways.
Veterans Park in Boise used to be known as Veterans Memorial State Park, beginning in 1982. The Idaho Department of Parks and Recreation (IDPR) turned management of the site over to Boise Parks and Recreation in 1997. You won’t see signs there calling it a state park, but it’s still listed as such in statute, and is still owned by the State of Idaho.
Another thing that makes counting state parks confusing is local usage. Many people call Malad Gorge, Billingsley Creek, Box Canyon, Ritter Island, and Niagara Springs state parks. IDPR calls them “units” of Thousand Springs State Park.
Even this nifty IDPR poster created by Boise artist Ward Hooper shows only 27 state parks, which is off from the “official” count of 30 in statute. Why? Well, they didn’t bother creating a logo for Mowry or Veterans because see above. And—I’m just speculating here—they didn’t order a logo for Glade Creek State Park because of the nature of the place. Glade Creek, on Lolo Pass, was where Lewis and Clark first made camp in what would become Idaho. IDPR manages the site as a natural area and doesn’t encourage use other than brief visits to the interpretive overlook. So, you do the math!
Dorthy Johnson
Largely because of the activities of the now defunct Aryan Nations, there is a lingering perception nationally that Idaho is not a place that welcomes diversity. Statistically, it is not a very diverse state. According to the Census Bureau, African-Americans made up just .06% of the state during the most recent census in 2010. It was about the same in 1964, when an African-American woman from Pocatello was chosen as Miss Idaho.Yes, right in the middle of the civil rights movement, Idaho sent a woman of color to the Miss USA pageant. Nineteen-year-old Dorthy Johnson was not the first African-American woman to compete in the pageant. That distinction went to Corinne Huff who served as an alternate for Miss Ohio in 1960. But Johnson was the first African-American semi-finalist in the pageant.There have since been six African-American winners of the pageant, since. The first was Carole Gist, Miss Michigan, in 1990.Idaho’s Dorthy Johnson would go on to become an award-winning educator. She was the Los Angeles Reading Association’s Teacher of the Year in 1992, listed in Who’s Who Among America’s Teachers, and nominated for the Disney Teacher of the Year Award in 2002. Dorthy Johnson LeVels passed away in the town where she was born, Pocatello, in April 2017.
The Swinging Bridge
Picnickers from Spokane used to take a train to Coeur d’Alene, then catch a paddlewheel steamboat to Heyburn State Park in the early part of the 20th Century. This shot on the left shows the swinging railroad bridge in action, letting a steamboat through into the park.This is the same swinging bridge today, though it doesn’t swing anymore. Engineers raised it high enough to let sailboats beneath it when Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes was built in about 2004. The 72-mile trail goes from Plummer to Mullan on the old railroad bed. It’s paved all the way, including this section that goes across the lake and the old swinging bridge in Heyburn State Park.For more Idaho state parks history, read Images of America, Idaho State Parks by Rick Just. Now available online and in your local bookstore.
