Fire Destroys Saloon, Bank, and Other Buildings in Grangeville [otd 12/19]

Early on the morning of Sunday, December 19, 1897, a major fire broke out in downtown Grangeville. The fire started in a two-story brewery/saloon. The account in the Idaho County Free Press noted that, “In a few minutes the entire building was a mass of flames.”

Historic Grangeville. City of Grangeville photo.

Although there was no wind, the roaring flames quickly spread to a photo-gallery on the west side and continued into the restaurant next door. The newspaper itself had offices in the nearby Camas Prairie Bank building, which caught fire from the “fierce heat” of the saloon fire. That structure soon became fully engulfed, and the heat and sparks began to threaten the Grange Hall, located across the street to the east.

Volunteers scrambled to form a bucket brigade to wet down the exposed wall. The Free Press said, “This, together with the melting snow upon the roof, proved sufficient to keep the flames from spreading east of Hall street.”

Finally, the bank building fell in upon itself and the flames subsided. Many of the fire crews rushed to the west, where the fire had momentarily stalled at the twenty-five foot wide vacant lot on that side of the restaurant.

A tailor’s shop occupied the spot beyond the lot. The Free Press report said, “Fortunately the latter is only a small box of a building, and speedily a corps of workers were astride its ridge pole spreading blankets and deluging them with water in the very face of the roaring furnace, and after thirty minutes of hot work the restaurant collapsed and the danger was over.”

The eighty-foot width of Main Street offered some protection to structures on the south side. However, sparks did ignite the façade of the Palace Hotel as well as a nearby meat market. Fortunately the hotel owner, one W. F. Schmadeka, “had equipped his premises with a fire pump and 250 feet of rubber hose. A steady stream of water was kept playing on the entire front of the block.”

Grangeville businesses, ca 1897. Idaho State Historical Society.

The firehose work extinguished all the sparks and secondary fires, but the heat from the primary conflagration was so hot “it cracked the plate glass of Schmadeka’s new brick building and blistered the paint all along the front of this block.”

Considering the spectacular nature of the fire, business losses were relatively light. Although the bank was a total loss, employees did manage to save the books and records.

The Free Press saved it’s files, ledger, books, and an editor’s desk. They somehow replaced their presses and managed an issue, with the story of the fire, five days later.

The report declared that winter weather, including recent heavy snow, helped prevent a worse catastrophe: “But for the snow thus protecting the roofs, a dozen fires would have been started in as many different points and the entire town would have gone up in smoke.”
                                                                                 

References]: [Illust-North]

“Grangeville Fire,” Idaho Statesman (December 22, 1897).

Luke May Case Posted

Over on my South Fork Revue blog, I have posted another story about a Luke May case that I could not include in is biography: http://sourdoughpub.blogspot.com/2019/12/death-in-line-of-duty.html

If you're interested in historic "true crime," you might want to check it out.

"True Crime" Story Posted on Revue

I just posted a new true crime story – Sad End of a Long March – over on my South Fork Revue blog. Murder took place in 1921 and the victim was a veteran of the Civil War.

Gold Prospectors Found Elk City Deep in the Idaho Mountains [otd 08/06]

On August 6, 1861, a band of miners founded the mining town of Elk City, Idaho, about 35 miles east of the present town of Grangeville. Prospectors had first entered the area in the latter part of May. A large party left the Orofino area earlier in the month. Somewhat less than half penetrated the region, having ignored protests from a Nez Perce Indian chief because they had intruded onto reservation land.

Riffle Box for Placer Mining. Library of Congress.

They found gold near the confluence of the American and Red rivers.  Further prospecting discovered more and more “color.”  By mid-June they had slapped together a log cabin to serve as a recorder's office, in which “Captain” L. B. Monson recorded the first claim on June 14, 1861.

Some men returned to Orofino for supplies and the new rush began, somewhat dampened by worries about the Indians. However, as more and more prospectors struck pay dirt, the rush swelled. That finally led to the founding of Elk City.

By the following summer, the town had four to six stores of various kinds, five saloons, and two decent hotels. Because of its location deep in the mountains, heavy winter snow shut down work on almost every claim. By the fall of 1862, a quickly-established Express company had shipped out over $900 thousand in gold dust (over $50 million at today’s prices).

Gold discoveries in easier country in Montana drew many prospectors away from Elk City the next year. However, the Evening Bulletin in San Francisco reprinted (May 29, 1863) a letter that said, in part, “Six ditches have been dug during the last winter in the vicinity of Elk City, and are now furnishing water to the miners.” As could be expected, “The miners are doing much better than before the ditches were completed.”

Also, in 1864 and 1865, determined gold-seekers built mores ditches, and flumes, to begin large-scale hydraulic mining. Thus, the value of metal extracted from the region actually increased. A sawmill built to supply lumber for these flumes did a booming business.

Miners continued to obtain reasonable returns from claims in the region for more than a decade. Then, after 1880, many claims were leased to Chinese miners. Like most of the older mining towns, Elk City’s prosperity rose and fell with the output from the gold fields in the region.

The economy received a “bump” when prospectors discovered gold in the “Buffalo Hump,” region, about 20 miles to the southwest. By the summer of 1899, about five thousand prospectors had poured into that area. Although Grangeville became the major supply point for “the Hump,” Elk City also won a share of the stagecoach and freight traffic. However, significant work at Buffalo Hump ran its course by about 1910.

Elk City at sunset. Elk City tourism.

For a time in the twentieth century, Elk City operated as a center for logging activity. However, that faltered when the U.S. Forest Service imposed more restrictions on timber harvesting in the area.

Today, Elk City survives as a recreation and tourism center, a “gateway” to the Nez Perce National Forest. The Elk City web site offers hiking, camping, fishing, hunting, mountain biking, and ATV riding during the summer, with skiing and snowmobiling in the winter.
                                                                                 

References: [B&W], [Illust-North]

“Buffalo Hump Stage Lines,” Reference Series No. 794, Idaho State Historical Society (1985 ).

M. Alfreda Elsensohn, Eugene F. Hoy (ed.), Pioneer Days in Idaho County, Caxton Printers, Caldwell, Idaho (1951).

Silver Mining Town of Kellogg Platted [otd 07/07]

The Illustrated History of North Idaho said, "The original plat of the town of Kellogg was filed with the auditor of Shoshone County July 7, 1893."

Kellogg, Idaho, ca 1907. University of Idaho Digital Collections.

Development of the area began in the late summer of 1885, when prospectors Phil O'Rourke and Noah S. Kellogg discovered what became the Bunker Hill Mine. O'Rourke filed the claim on September 10, and by the end of the month other hopefuls had located several mines along extensions of the same ledges.

Soon, prospectors found what came to be the Sullivan Mine across the canyon. By early November, miners built the first cabins for the town of Wardner, along Milo Creek, a mile or so north of the main lodes. (It was initially called "Kentucky," but the U. S. Post Office nixed that.) Even before that, brothers Robert and Jonathan Ingalls claimed a ranch further north on the more extensive flats along the Coeur d'Alene River.

The settlement they started in early 1886 as "Milo" was renamed Kellogg before the year was out. The town grew rapidly, having a local newspaper within a few months. Two years later, Kellogg had train service.

With more space to expand, Kellogg soon surpassed Wardner and became the headquarters for many mining companies in the area. By the time the town was platted in 1893, the Bunker Hill & Sullivan Mining and Concentrating Company was one of the largest employers in the region.

Although Bunker Hill had escaped the worse of the miners' union unrest in 1892, they were the primary target for a major incident in 1899 [blog, April 29.] Some level of friction between the unions and mine owners would continue for many years, but eventually a more cooperative climate developed.

In 1901, the Company donated "one of the finest brick school houses in the state" to Kellogg. Then, in 1913, the town was incorporated. Three years later, the demand for batteries and bullets for World War I sparked a boom in area lead mining. That did not last, of course, and a recession followed the war. Still, the Idaho Statesman reported (January 14, 1923) that, “All of the mines that were idle in 1921 resumed operation at capacity production … ”

The revival was attributed, in part, to “the marked increase in the price of lead, zinc and copper.” In fact, ups and downs in metal prices drove the town's economy well into the 1970s. But that same decade saw the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency.

Silver Mountain gondola.
Guide to North Idaho.

People in Kellogg hoped for the best. Even into 1980, high silver prices fueled optimism about the town's economy. The roof fell in the following year: A national recession depressed prices, and major layoffs soon followed. After that, mineral production no longer played a significant employment role for Kellogg. The designation of wide expanses of the valley as a Superfund Site dealt the coup de grâce.

Soon, town leaders began to seek new sources of employment for the area. Although the transition was painful and is not yet complete, Kellogg now features a tourist economy with museums, shops, condominiums, and a nearby ski area – Silver Mountain. Boosters are also striving to expand their role into more of an all-seasons destination.
                                                                                 

References: [Hawley], [Illust-North]

City of Kellogg

Judith Nielsen, “Corporate History: Bunker Hill Mining Company,” Manuscript Group 367, University of Idaho Special Collections (1995).

Julie Whitesel Weston, The Good Times Are All Gone Now, University of Oklahoma Press, Norman (2009).

Genealogy, Family History, and History … From Particular to General

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been digging out new material to expand and revise my On This Day (OTD) blog articles. One recent search reminded me of a couple points that we sometimes “under-appreciate.”

First of all, genealogical data can provide a valuable addition to other forms of historical research. Of course, genealogy is a specialized type of history anyway. And “family history,” which encompasses more than a succession of “begats,” is clearly a subset of history in general.

Family Group, 1898. Library of Congress.

A substantial fraction of my OTD blogs are biographies, which usually start with information from histories of Idaho published in 1920 or before. Most of those people were still living when their bios were published. That being the case, I often turn first to genealogical sites (Ancestry.com and/or the LDS FamilySearch.org) to learn more about my subjects. Those sites pull together a wealth of different sources. For my blog biographies, the census data and death records are the most valuable, but almost everything there can help.

Here’s an example from my soon-to-be published book, the biography of pioneer criminologist Luke S. May. The matter involved May’s protegé, Edward C. Newell. A letter from him to May told me he was headed to Europe on the steamship Bremen on July 17, 1936. It also said he planned to stay until the following spring. And, indeed, I next found him back in New Hampshire in the spring of 1937. (A letter written many years later told me where he had gone on the Continent.) Good enough, right?

But internal remarks in the “spring” reference suggested he had been back in the U. S. for quite a while. To make a long story short, further research at the genealogical site turned up his name on a passenger list – Steamship Bremen, departed Southhampton, England on October 16, arrived in New York on October 23, 1936. (He never said why he returned early, but tensions were high in Europe at the time because Germany had re-occupied the Rhineland in March and the Spanish Civil War flared into violence in July.)

City directories are another valuable resource. Census data sometimes tells me that a person changed locations, and jobs, over the span of a decade. The directories then allow me to narrow down the time when the person made the change. (Downside: The books are issued yearly, but some may be missing from the archives.)

I’m sure I’m “preaching to the choir” for some (many?) of you out there, but: If you’re not using genealogical resources to supplement your other historical research, you’re missing a bet.

The second point has to do with a matter of family history where our “modern” perspective can lead us to miss a key point. The issue came up during my revision of the OTD article for July 3. My references said that Idaho Territorial Governor Edward A. Stevenson (1831-1895) was a cousin to Adlai E. Stevenson (1835-1914), Assistant Postmaster General of the United States. (Later, Adlai was Vice President under Grover Cleveland.) For various reasons, I wondered how closely they were related. (Having the same last name does not always indicate a close link.)

As you might expect, genealogical information for Adlai was readily available. That traced his lineage back many generations to ancestors living in the Scottish borderlands. Around 1715-1720, Adlai’s direct line ancestor moved to Ireland and then, about twenty years later, the family came to the United States. They settled in Pennsylvania before moving on to North Carolina. Over a couple more generations, they moved to Kentucky, where Adlai was born, and then Illinois. (After the Revolutionary War, they used the Stevenson form rather than the original Stephenson.)

Adlai Stevenson, ca 1880.
Library of Congress.

The lineage of Edward A. Stevenson proved more difficult, so I turned to the family trees posted on Ancestry.com. That finally did take me back four generations in his line, but no location was listed for the oldest ancestor. Two other problems arose. First, none of the names or dates in Edward’s line matched up with those for Adlai’s line. Also, where Adlai’s early ancestors settled in North Carolina and Kentucky, Edward’s ended up in New Jersey and New York, where Edward was born.

So, as a test, I “invented” a common Stephenson link back in Scotland. The genealogy software responded with the information that Edward and Adlai were, at best, fourth or fifth cousins. In a “modern” view, that connection seemed pretty tenuous, even if they did share the same last name.

However, I also came across a key observation in one of the many biographies related to the Adlai E. Stevenson (1900-1965) line. The Baker reference had the passage:
Even as the Stephensons changed locations, their remembered attachments to kin served as a protective shelter in the boundless terrain of their new country. They were a clan, and they carried with them to America an inherited sense of blood relatives – past and present – as a “derbfine,” an ancient arrangement recognized in the laws of northern Britain and Ireland that “encompassed all kin within the span of the last four generations.” They referred to themselves as “our people” and meant by that an extended family whose younger generations carried the names of their forebears and whose dead were remembered in story and legend.

Several times, the author reinforced that persistent remembrance of family. They didn’t need genealogical charts, the information was woven into their lives. So, as I say in the revised blog: There was no such thing as a “distant” cousin; they were simply “family.” Moral: As we read old histories/references, we need to keep in mind that those generations had a far different concept of family than we are used to now.

–––––
Reference: Jean H. Baker, The Stevensons: A Biography of an American Family, W. W. Norton & Company, New York, New York (1996).

Water Starts Flowing Through Egin Bench Irrigation Canal [otd 06/01]

On June 1, 1883, water flowed from a pioneer canal onto Egin Bench farmland. The Bench bends for about 12-14 miles along the west side of Henry’s Fork, some 25 to 35 miles north of Idaho Falls.

Egin Bench farmland near Henry’s Fork.

The first settlers arrived on the bench during the summer of 1879, shortly after Utah & Northern Railway tracks reached Eagle Rock (today’s Idaho Falls). While they saw potential there, they had to be content at first with cutting hay and raising stock. The river level lies 30 to 40 feet below the plain along much of the Bench's expanse. Farming had to wait until a ditch could be dug to take water from the river above today’s St. Anthony.

Still, the area proved attractive to homesteaders and a post office was established at Egin within a year. Locals thought “Garden Grove” would be a suitable name. The U. S. Postal Service said no … that name was already taken within Idaho Territory. As the story goes, the settlers met to pick another name on a nasty, cold day. They then chose “Egin,” an Anglicized version of the Shoshone word for “cold.”

The settlers began digging a canal during the fall after they arrived. However, they lacked the capital to hire more men and equipment, so it took four long years to complete the channel. Still, by all indications, that first water delivery in 1883 was a success. Perhaps enough water came through to mask what they would learn later.

Soon, more settlers began to break out land and dig irrigation ditches. The results were a shock to farmers used to normal flood irrigation: The coarse, sandy soil absorbed the water almost faster than they could deliver it.

Reports indicate that this phenomenon discouraged some settlers, who left. In reality, Egin Bench is one of the few places in the world that provides natural sub-irrigation. Although the ground absorbs a tremendous amount of water initially, a layer of basalt stops the seepage not too far down (the depth varies). After that, the underground flow can only go sideways.

St. Anthony Sand Dunes,
a popular recreational spot west of the bench.

Once the soil is “charged,” crops receive moisture directly to their root systems, and evaporation losses are minimal. With such a structure, the depth of the water table can actually be regulated by raising or lowering the water level in a network of strategically-spaced canals.

Egin Bench subirrigation also has a notable side effect. Water began to “escape” west by percolating underground over the impermeable rock layer. When it had charged all that area, the flow resurfaced to form today’s Mud Lake, 25-30 miles away. Before that, the low area had water only during periods of very heavy run-off.

Today, large greenhouses often use sub-irrigation to water their indoor crops. Sub-irrigation of field crops using man-made structures is very costly and is generally done only in special situations. (The trade-offs involved are far beyond the scope of this brief article.)
                                                                                 

References: [French]

Mark Fiege, Irrigated Eden: The Making of an Agricultural Landscape in the American West, University of Washington Press, Seattle (1999).

“Golden Jubilee Edition, 1884 1934,” Idaho Falls Post-Register (September 10, 1934).

Andrew Jenson, “The Bannock Stake of Zion: Parker Ward,” The Deseret Weekly, Vol. XLII, No. 9, The Deseret News Co., Salt Lake City, Utah (1891).

L. A. Zucker, L.C. Brown (eds.), “Agricultural Drainage: Water Quality Impacts and Subsurface Drainage Studies in the Midwest,” Ohio State University Extension Bulletin 871, The Ohio State University, Columbus (1998).

U. S. Assay Office Added to National Register of Historic Places [otd 05/30]

On May 30, 1961, the old U. S. Assay Office in Boise took its deserved place on the National Register of Historic Places.

After the discoveries of 1862, gold – dust, nuggets, and quartz ore – poured out of the mountainous Boise Basin region (east of Boise City). Large amounts of silver from Owyhee County, and elsewhere, soon followed. Gold dust immediately became a preferred medium of exchange, as it always did in gold country. The metal has intrinsic value, of course, and can be doled out in widely varying amounts.

Gold scales. Oregon Historical Society.

However, the dust also suffers from some serious shortcomings. First, transactions require a set of scales and standard weights to measure the dust. Pioneer Charlie Walgamott noted that Chinese miners in south-central Idaho “invariably” carried their own devices, which were very precise and accurate. (A merchant caught with doctored scales would be in big trouble.)

Such transactions were complicated by the fact that not all gold dust was the same. The nominal value was $16 per ounce. However, dust from one placer area might be worth $12 per ounce while that from another might go $19. The circulation of bogus dust caused further doubt in such dealings.

Private assayers provided a stopgap service by melting dust into gold bars of various sizes. Stamped with the weight, value, and assayer identification, these too could be used as a medium of exchange. However, such “currency” did not travel well … generally only as far as the assayers good name.

Thus, by 1864, miners and businessmen alike were agitating for the establishment of a branch mint within Idaho Territory. Failing that, they wanted at least an official assay office. It simply cost too much to ship the precious metals to the Mint in San Francisco. The 1866 Territorial legislature made a formal request for an assay office, but partisan politics and pressing business at the end of the Civil War delayed action until 1869.

In February of that year, Congress authorized creation of an assay office in Boise City. President Grant then appointed former Idaho Chief Justice John R. McBride [blog, Feb 28] to oversee construction and act as the office’s first superintendent.

U. S. Assay Office, ca. 1898. Illustrated History image.

The structure was designed by Alfred B. Mullet, Supervising Architect for the Treasury Department. Mullet design around forty government buildings, including the original San Francisco Mint, the Carson City Mint, and many post offices and customs buildings. The original structure had offices and a laboratory on the ground floor, with living quarters for the Chief Assayer on the second. Construction began in 1870 and the Office received its first official deposits in March 1872.

The Assay Office operated as part of the Treasury Department for over sixty years. It processed several billion dollars (in today’s values) worth of gold and silver during that period. The Office closed in 1933 and the U.S. Forest Service began using the building for office space.

Although the interior was extensively remodeled, the exterior of what became a National Landmark was largely unchanged from the original. The National Register states, under Significance, that the Office was “One of the earliest monumental structures in the Northwest … and has always symbolized the importance of Idaho's mines.”

In 1972, the Idaho State Historical Society became the owner of record. Today, the building houses the Idaho Historic Preservation Office and the Archaeological Survey of Idaho.
                                                                                 

Reference: [Brit], [Hawley], [Illust-State]

"Assay Office, Boise," National Register of Historic Places, National Park Service (1961).

“The Old Assay Office in Boise,” Reference Series No. 359, Idaho State Historical Society (December 1974).

Charles Shirley Walgamott, Six Decades Back, The Caxton Printers, Ltd, Caldwell, Idaho (1936).

Cornerstone Laid for Idaho Soldiers Home in Boise [otd 05/23]

On May 23, 1893, dignitaries gathered in Boise City to lay the cornerstone for the new Idaho Soldiers’ Home. Meant to care for Union Army veterans of the Civil War who were “aged and in want,” the Home was completed the following year.

Union soldiers, ca. 1862. Library of Congress.

Idaho, of course, wasn’t even organized when the War started, and provided no Volunteer units for the conflict. However, by the time Idaho became a state, several thousand veterans had settled there. Not too surprisingly, 70 percent of them came from the midwestern states. (Nearly 85 percent came from the Midwest, Pennsylvania, or New York.)

Thus, the Idaho legislature appropriated funds for a soldiers’ home, and designated acreage from Federal land grants to create an operating endowment fund. The Act also authorized the governor to appoint a Board of Trustees. The appropriation stretched further after Ada County citizens donated the money to buy forty acres of land where the home could be sited. Builders completed the structure in November, 1894.

Officials staged a formal opening in May 1895. By then, the legislature had authorized funds for more buildings, including a hospital. Two years later, the state modified the eligibility requirements to include veterans of the Mexican War and National Guard soldiers who were disabled in the line of duty. That provided a “side door” for some who fought for the losing side of what some still called, in 1901, “the war of the rebellion.”

Idaho Soldiers Home, ca. 1914. H. T. French photo.

Fire damaged the main building in October 1900 and took the life of one resident veteran. The structure was rebuilt, reportedly better than ever. Certainly, it was different. The original Home had been built in the style, more or less, of a French chateau, with numerous gables and conical turrets at the front corners. The new design sported an onion-shaped dome that dominated the center front of the building, and the corner turrets had been reshaped. (The results seem rather akin to a Russian-Orthodox church.)

Another fire in October 1917 caused major damage. The state made arrangements to house the residents at Boise Barracks, which then had only minimal use. The aged veterans found their “temporary” quarters comfortable enough, but commented that they never felt like home. Because the country and the state were on a war footing, it took quite a long time for the old home to be rebuilt: It was not reopened until 1920 (Idaho Statesman, May 10, 1920). Perhaps to reduce costs, the repairs did not include the exotic domes and turrets.

As time, and old soldiers, passed, more and more residents of the Home were veterans of the 1898 Spanish-American War, then World War I, and so on. Age also took its toll on the building and finally, in 1966, officials dedicated a new “Boise Veterans Home” a half mile east of the capitol building.

Statuary in Veterans Memorial Park.

Eventually, city workers leveled the structures at the old site and created Veterans Memorial Park. Besides the usual recreational areas, the park contains monuments to war dead in several conflicts, those Missing in Action, and prisoners of war. It also has commemorative plaques for veterans’ groups and various military activities.
                                                                                 

References: [Hawley], [Illust-State]

Nancy DeHamer, "Idaho Soldiers Home," Reference Series No. 713, Idaho State Historical Society (1985).

Rod House, Steve Barrett, and Wilma Jager, Civil War Veterans in Idaho, Idaho State Historical Society (2006).

"News of the States: Tuesday, October 9," Colfax Gazette, Colfax, Washington (October 12, 1900).

Historic True Crime

For those of you who enjoy both history and "true crime" stories, check out my newly-revised post on the South Fork Revue: Murder on the Olympic Peninsula.

This is one of the cases handled by pioneer criminologist Luke S. May in 1922. As mentioned on the other blog, I could not include all of his cases in my book about him ... so I plan to post some of those "extra" online.

Book Release Scheduled: American Sherlock. Scientific Crime Detection

American ​Sherlock is the biography of pioneer criminologist Luke S. May. May played a significant role in the development of scientific methods of crime investigation. Although basically self-taught in scientific matters, May spent over a half century practicing scientific crime detection and built a solid reputation among police agencies and attorneys in the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada as a serious and effective scientific investigator.

This reputation as “America’s Sherlock Holmes” also led to his being consulted on the establishment of the first “full service” public American crime laboratory at Northwestern University in Chicago, Illinois, and on a crime laboratory for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

When May began, few people, anywhere, used scientific tools to investigate crime. Except for a couple of minimal installations in Europe, there were no crime labs. So to solve his cases – criminal and civil – May improved or invented techniques in every area of forensic science in the era before public crime laboratories. Along the way, he exchanged ideas with many other well-known crime fighting pioneers.

Exemplifying “The American Dream”
Born on a Nebraska farm in 1892, Luke S. May rose from the proverbial “humble beginnings” to become one of the most famous detectives of his day. Hard times forced his ancestors out of Ireland, and then Canada, to seek a better life in the United States. But even that faltered when a severe drought sent his father back to life as an itinerant carpenter.

May, About 18 Years Old

Then, young “Lukie” experienced a pivotal moment: He read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The boy decided that scientific criminology would be his life’s work. Luckily, a building boom in Salt Lake City drew the family there and Luke found the resources needed to pursue his dream. Detective May was not yet eighteen years old when clues he spotted solved his first publicized case, a murder during a daytime burglary. As his reputation grew, he moved his base first to Pocatello, Idaho and then to Seattle, Washington. He remained there for the rest of his life, handling well over two thousand cases.

Between the two World Wars, May logged – as a private criminologist – an average of one death case every month. Around 80 percent of those were murders. Since roughly two-thirds of the death cases involved firearms, he became an expert in firearms and bullet analysis, with a huge gun collection. He had racks holding thousands of test-fired bullets, and could “read” them to identify every commonly-used firearm in the world.

A Few of May's Guns

May’s other cases ran the full gamut: routine background checks, cattle rustling, questioned documents (most often wills), accident investigations, and on and on.

But perhaps his most visible contribution to the field involved “tool marks.” The most telling marks are the microscopic scratches (striations) that can identify a specific implement (knife, screwdriver, etc.) used to commit a crime. One of his cases set the legal precedent for the use of such evidence, an important factor in the later conviction of Bruno Hauptmann for the murder of young Charles Lindbergh, Jr.

Tool Mark Comparison

American Sherlock is based on extensive research in the Luke S. May Papers, archived at the University of Washington, along with material from over two thousand other sources (mostly newspaper articles about May and his cases). For readers with further interest in the topic, the book contains an extensive endnotes section and a considerable bibliography.

[Note: All photos are from the May-Reid papers and are used with permission.]

Reviews
Well researched and engagingly written, American Sherlock rediscovers Luke S. May, a largely forgotten pioneer in early twentieth-century scientific crime fighting. In recounting May’s colorful career and most remarkable cases, Evan E. Filby traces the development of forensic science in the United States and offers a fast-paced narrative that will be particularly interesting to true-crime aficionados.
— Jeffrey S. Adler, professor of history and criminology at the University of Florida, author of Murder in New Orleans: The Creation of Jim Crow Policing (2019) and First in Violence, Deepest in Dirt: Homicide in Chicago, 1875-1920 (2006)

With Evan E. Filby’s American Sherlock we have, for the first time, a detailed assessment of the life and career of Luke S. May. May was a highly influential figure in the development of forensic science and scientific detection in North America in the first half of the twentieth century, yet he is surprisingly hardly remembered. Filby’s book accurately reinstates him in his rightful place in the history of scientific detection. Clearly and accessibly written, with a wealth of detail on May’s life and work, American Sherlock appeals to a wide audience including fans of true crime writing and those with an interest in the development of scientific detection.
— Alison Adam, professor of Science, Technology and Society at Sheffield Hallam University, UK; author of A History of Forensic Science: British Beginnings in the Twentieth Century (2015).

Ordering Information
Scheduled for release in August 2019, the book can be pre-ordered from the publisher or from major online booksellers such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Projected to be about 320 pages long in hardcover, the list price is $32.

Order directly from Rowman & Littlefield for a 30% discount on American Sherlock. Use promotion code RLFANDF30 at checkout for 30% off – this promotion is valid until January 31, 2020. This offer cannot be combined with any other promo or discount offers. You may also contact Customer Service and Order Fulfillment:
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Commission Created to Oversee Idaho Capitol Construction [otd 03/03]

On March 3, 1905 Governor Frank Gooding signed an Act to create a "Capitol Building Board." For some years prior to this, state officers and citizens had begun to find the old Territorial capitol building inadequate to the needs of a new and growing state.

Old Territorial/State capitol building, ca 1898.
Illustrated History of the State of Idaho.

Before 1884, the Territorial legislature apparently met in various hotels where they could find enough rooms, and Territorial offices were at scattered locations. That year, legislators reviewed Territorial finances and concluded they could finally build “suitable quarters for the territorial government.” The legislature met in its new capitol building in 1886.

However, after nearly twenty years of use, the old structure was showing its age and simply not big enough. The 1905 board, which met as the Capitol Building Commission about two weeks after the signing, consisted of the Governor, Secretary of State, State Treasurer, and "two competent citizens." One of the citizen representatives was former Boise Mayor Walter E. Pierce, a prominent real estate developer. The other was Judge James H. Beatty, of the Federal Court for the District of Idaho.

The Act allowed the board to plan for an expansion of the existing building or to purchase land for a totally new structure. After considering various options, the Commission decided to build a new, larger structure, but basically retain the old location.

The bought the old Central School next door – it had been built before the Territorial capitol itself – and closed the street between the two to create a larger continuous tract. The Commission then accepted a “Neoclassical” architectural design submitted by J. E. Tourtellotte and Company. Per the request for proposals, the submittal included plans for a full structure, but one that could be built in stages. They would start with the central section and add larger wings at some later date.

Idaho capitol, ca 1915 – Note the lack of full wings. [Hawley]

Site clearing and excavation work began about three months after the Board was created. The foundation for the dome section with stubby half-wings was basically sandwiched between the old capitol on the right and Central School on the left. Due to lack of funds, construction stretched out for nearly seven years. But finally, writing in an “editorial” voice, James H. Hawley's History said, "in the summer of 1912 the building was so far completed that Governor Hawley removed his offices from the old building to the new quarters provided for the chief executive."

Seven years passed before work could begin on the extended wings included in the original design. In the summer of 1919, crews began the demolition of the former school building and the old capitol – necessary to make room for the two additions. Construction did, however, go much faster than the original project; the capitol had its new wings by the end of 1920.

Capitol with wings, artist’s concept, ca 1913.
City of Boise.

Over its many years of use, the capitol building underwent numerous modifications, sometimes with unfortunate results. A modernization project in the 1960s, while necessary, has since been particularly criticized for its lack of sensitivity to historic preservation.

Fortunately, a recent substantial renovation and face-lift corrected some of those earlier “sins.” To preserve the outside appearance, designers gained new space by adding wings underground. The structure re-opened to the public in January 2010.
                                                                                 

References: [French], [Hawley], [Illust-State] “Capitol Annex Begins to Topple Under Assault,” Idaho Statesman, Boise (June 18, 1919).

"Idaho State Capital," Reference Series No. 133, Idaho State Historical Society (December 1964).

"Moments in Idaho History," Idaho State Historical Society web site.

Restoration – Preserving the People’s House, Idaho Capitol Commission, Boise.