Attorney, Developer, and Public Servant Albertus Freehafer [otd 02/12]

Attorney and legislator Albertus L. Freehafer was born February 12, 1868, in Mansfield, Ohio, about seventy miles southwest of Cleveland. After high school, he taught for three years, saving as much as he could.

Ohio Northern University, ca 1890.
Vintage postcard, Columbus Metropolitan Library.

With that “nest egg” and what he could earn during the summer, Albertus attended Ohio Northern University, then called Ohio Normal University. He graduated in 1893.

For three years, Freehafer served as a high school Superintendent in Ohio. He then began reading law with a firm in his home town. Albertus married in 1897, and served as a Deputy County Clerk while continuing his law office studies. However, in 1900, the couple and their year-old daughter moved to Scofield, Utah. There, Albertus worked as a school Principal while his wife, Olive, was a teacher.

After two years in Utah, the Freehafers moved to Council, Idaho, where Albertus again had a job as school Principal. Throughout this period, he studied law, and passed the Idaho bar exam in 1905. Albertus then quit his school job and opened a law office in Council. Six years later, his business had increased to the point that he added a partner.

Besides his law practice, Freehafer took up a homestead near Council. He also dealt in real estate and insurance, and was a director of the First Bank of Council. For a time, he provided legal counsel for the bank.

Freehafer served one term in the Idaho House of Representatives, starting in 1907. While there, he was House Leader for the minority Democratic Party. Voters then elected Albertus to two consecutive terms as state Senator from Washington County. Also active in local politics, Albertus served as Chairman of the Council Board of Trustees (roughly equivalent to a mayor’s position), and as City Attorney in 1911-1914.

In 1911, Senator Freehafer introduced legislation to carve Adams County out of Washington County.  Washington County officials fiercely opposed the division. However, the proposed new county held about half the assessed valuation and area of the existing Washington County, and about 44% of the voters (Idaho Statesman, January 28, 1911). The bill passed and Council became the county seat.

Adams County Courthouse, built 1915.
Adams County Historic Preservation Commission.

Freehafer was appointed to the state Public Utilities Commission in 1914. During a second term, he then served as Commission President. One of the more interesting 1918 cases denied a request to have electrical power service extended to a village in southeast Idaho. The refusal was, the Commission decided, “necessary for the conservation of raw material, capital, and labor required for the winning of the war.”

Freehafer served through 1921. He then moved his law practice to Payette, later serving two terms as state Senator for Payette County. In the Thirties, he performed legal work for various Federal agencies, generally related to “New Deal” programs.

He moved back to Council in 1939. There, Albertus was nominated for the state Senate from Adams County, but withdrew for health reasons. He passed away in October 1940. (Freehafer was the maternal grandfather of U. S. Senator from Idaho, James Albertus "Jim" McClure.)
                                                                                 

References: [French], [Hawley]

Albertus L. Freehafer (Pres.), Sixth and Seventh Annual Reports of the Public Utilities Commission, State of Idaho, The Caxton Printers, Ltd, Caldwell, Idaho (1920).

"Freehafer, Albertus LeRoy - Obituary," Independent Enterprise, Payette, Idaho (November 1940).

Idaho History: Gold, Cattle, Sheep and More

With Christmas bills coming due soon, I need to sell some books. So bear with me for a small advertisement. You will have noticed that yesterday’s blog featured Truman C. Catlin. One of the earliest pioneers to raise cattle in Idaho, Catlin is featured in my book Before the Spud: Indians, Buckeroos, and Sheepherders in Pioneer Idaho.

I could have also posted a December 21st item from another of my books, Idaho: Year One – The Territory’s First Year.  That book uses newspapers reports, diaries and letters to describe what was happening in the newly created Idaho Territory. It includes some lead-up to March 4, 1863 – when Abraham Lincoln sign legislation to create the Territory – and continues to the one-year anniversary. An Afterword bridges the span until May 26, 1864, when Congress split Montana Territory from Idaho.

Like my On This Day blog items, Year One uses a day-to-day progression, although it does not try to cover every single day of the year. Thus, on December 21, 1863, the Evening Bulletin in San Francisco, California published a report about the mines in central and southern Idaho Territory. Unlike many another flash in the pan, the Boise Basin mines, he wrote, “show promise of a long-continued yield.” The Boise Basin lies high in the mountains to the east and northeast of Boise City (as it was known then).

On December 23, 1863, The Oregonian in Portland published an opinion piece that advocated the authorization of a Federal mint in their city. Idaho had already produced a lot of gold and it was clear that the region’s output held promise for years to come. A mint in Portland would mitigate the cost and dangers of transporting the treasure to the mint in San Francisco. Portland never did get a mint, of course, but Congress later did authorize an assay office in Boise.

Meanwhile, gold (and later silver) mining in and around the Boise Basin would continue for almost a century. That history is described in another of my books, Boise River Gold Country. Besides the mining story, Boise River shows the growth, and later decline, of the timber industry in the region. Today, the region’s economy largely depends upon tourism and outdoor recreation.

Of course, the discovery of gold in the region led directly to the creation of Idaho Territory. But the presence of all those hungry miners then spurred the formation of a thriving cattle industry. Before the Spud outlines the history of that development, starting with the “first stockmen of Idaho” … the Shoshone and Nez Percés Indians. But stock-raising exploded after the discovery of gold. And, by around 1910, income from livestock (including dairy) had surpassed that from mining and timber. And that was “before the spud” … potatoes were then only a small faction of the agricultural production in the state.

I encourage you to visit my other blog, Sourdough Publishing, where I have posted more information about my books. That includes the full Table of Contents for each. Or you can jump directly to the CreateSpace web pages for the books:
Boise Basin Gold Country
Idaho: Year One
Before the Spud

The books are also available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Luke May and His Custom Microscope(s)

During his career, criminologist Luke S. May (1892-1965) handled hundreds of firearms cases. He also examined evidence in the form of hair, fibers, dust particles, tool marks, paint chips and on and on. All that meant he spent a lot of time peering through a microscope. For one firearms case in 1921, he sent the Police Chief in Aberdeen, Washington a preliminary report, but said, “I have been unable to complete my tests.”

Early microscope, ca 1920.
National Institutes of Health.

May explained some of the features he still had to determine and went on, “My eyes played out on me having used the microscope too much in the last few days.”

So it comes as no surprise that he tried to find a better way. May’s answer began with his invention of what he called the “Revelaroscope.” (At the time, his detective agency was called the Revelare International Secret Service.). The Seattle Times published (July 16, 1922) a long article with the headline, “Mastodon of the Microscope Family.” The optics of the unit looked roughly like an extra-tall metal beer keg. That was anchored to a steel post and the whole apparatus stood taller than Luke, who, at about 5-foot 10-inches, was considered tall for that era. It weighed nearly 450 pounds.

The crucial feature was an eye-high view screen that displayed the magnified image – no more squinting through a small ocular. The news report said, “The tiniest strand of human hair is made to resemble a section of the trunk of a giant spruce tree.”

Unfortunately, the technology of the times was incapable of delivering the promise of May’s design. For one thing, the long light paths made the device very susceptible to vibration. And it required a strong light source, which generate a lot of heat that created convection currents. But with all that, the Revelaroscope had great promotional value … important since May ran a private lab and needed all the free publicity he could get.

Magnascope. Popular Science Magazine, 1931

May continued to improve the Revelaroscope over the next decade, eventually changing the name to “Magnascope.” In the spring of 1929, he applied for a patent under the title of “Comparison Magnascope.” During the long approval process, Popular Science Magazine published an article about the use of microscopes in crime detection. The writer said, “The tools of the trade now range from pocket glasses, smaller than a quarter, to a colossal apparatus, tall as a man and weighing half a ton.”

That “colossal” tool was, of course, the Comparison Magascope … now apparently more than doubled in weight. So the giant device continued to have publicity value, even though May by then used a standard commercial comparison microscope for his closest work. Still, the patent form noted that use of the standard scope was “extremely tedious and wearing, and straining upon the eyes.” With his new design “such inspections and comparisons can be made with the normal vision of the two eyes.”

The patent on the Magnascope was granted in 1934. So far as anyone knows, May’s prototype was the only one ever built. The unit was around for some time after May’s death in 1965, but the family eventually lost track of where is was. It may have since been disassembled for scrap or even just discarded.
                                                                                  

References: L. S. May, Comparison Magnascope, Patent No. 1,974,654, United States Patent Office, Washington, D. C. (September 25, 1934).

Luke S. May, Luke S. May Papers, University of Washington Special Collections, Seattle (1969).

Edwin W. Teale, “Microscope Detectives,” Popular Science Magazine, New York City (December 1931).

Boise’s Water Supply, a Local “Taj Mahal,” and Geothermal Development

Hosea Eastman. H. T. French photo.

In the words of the Owyhee Avalanche (August 27, 1881), brothers Benjamin M. and Hosea B. Eastman were “rattlers in the way of enterprise.” Not referring to the deadly snake, the writer meant the two regularly shook up the status quo. Their far-sighted improvements and innovations led Boise development for over forty years.

Both were born in the White Mountains area in north-central New Hampshire. Hosea was born in 1835, while Benjamin was five years older. Before ending up in Idaho, the brothers ran a sawmill and lumber business in New Hampshire, farmed in California, and mined in Oregon.

In late 1863, they moved to Idaho and staked placer claims on Jordan Creek, near where Silver City would soon be founded. They made enough from their claims to invest substantially in a well-paying lode mine. After about five years, they liquidated their mining properties and acquired the Idaho Hotel in Silver City. The brothers, Hosea in particular, proved to have a special talent for hotel work. They turned the Idaho into the premier hostelry in Silver City.

Unfortunately, in 1875, bank failures in California dried up outside capital and led to financial problems for the Silver City mines. So, in 1877 and 1878, the brothers sold the Idaho and purchased the venerable Overland Hotel in Boise City. Although the brothers remained partners in the Overland until 1903, Hosea generally took the lead, and newspaper accounts identified him as such.

They immediately remodeled the property, added more rooms, and upgraded most of the facilities. Hosea was particularly unhappy with the hotel’s water supply. He finally located a reliable source of cold spring water in Hull’s Gulch, about a mile and a half north of Fort Boise. In 1881, workers completed a system to pipe water to the hotel. With a considerable surplus available, they began distributing water to nearby businesses and residences.

Overland Hotel, ca. 1885. Idaho State Historical Society.

In 1891, the company they had formed to handle the water business merged with another firm to create the Artesian Hot and Cold Water Company. Hosea remained General Manager of the company for over a quarter century. (He passed away in 1920, Benjamin having died in 1909.)

Shortly after the merger, the company had deep wells drilled at a known “hot spot” a few miles southeast of downtown. These tapped into a steady flow of hot water, measured at 172ºF. The firm also had a large, opulent natatorium built. A huge “plunge” formed the centerpiece: 120x62 feet in expanse, ranging from 2 to 14 feet in depth. It was fed by a continuous flow of water that had been allowed to cool to a comfortably warm temperature.
Around the big pool, patrons could enjoy steam baths, hot tubs, showers, and massage parlors. Upper floors soon sported a fine bar, ballroom, and an exercise/health pavilion. Historian Hiram T. French, writing in 1914, dubbed the Moorish style structure “the Taj Mahal of the West.”

The Boise Natatorium, ca 1898. [Illust-State]

Soon, the company began selling surplus hot water to heat many buildings in downtown Boise. The city thus lays claim to being the first American town to have geothermal heating. Business at “the Nat” bloomed after the interurban rail line located a station nearby. It became the preferred site for inaugural balls, fancy weddings, and regular dances with big-name bands.

Still, the Idaho Statesman article (May 24, 1922) about the Nat’s thirty year anniversary made it clear that the facility was well past its prime. Finally, a wind blast in the summer of 1934 damaged the structure beyond repair, and it was torn down. After that, and still today, only an open-air pool remained.

Through all those years, Boise continued to benefit from the geothermal resources developed by Eastman and his partners. In the 1980s, developers drilled several more, much deeper geothermal wells, and just recently one system was expanded across the river to the Boise State University campus.
                                                                                 

References: [Hawley], [French], [Illust-State]

Dick D’Easum, The Idanha: Guests and Ghosts of an Historic Idaho Inn, Caxton Printers, Ltd., Caldwell (1984).

Book on Idaho History

Today’s "On This Day item," along with the “Sheep Queen” biography of yesterday, recall the long and colorful history of stock raising in Idaho. As noted in the blog, that history included the Blackfoot firm of Berryman & Rogers. Their story, along with many others is told in my book Before the Spud: Indians, Buckaroos, and Sheepherders in Pioneer Idaho.

Rogers’ career is, of course, outlined in the blog. Berryman, the book says, “divided his time among the company’s interests in stock raising, retail trade, and real estate for many years. However, by 1910, he saw himself primarily as a banker, working for one of the largest banks in Blackfoot. By 1920, Berryman was President of the bank.”

He passed away in 1925, a year before Rogers.

For more information on Before the Spud, visit the Sourdough Publishing web site. There, you will also learn more about my other two Idaho history books: Boise Basin Gold Country and Idaho: Year One, an Idaho Sesquicentennial History.

Northern Gold Activities Mixed, Many Headed for Boise Basin [otd 06/16]

A correspondent who signed himself as “Mudsill” wrote a letter from Lewiston on June 16, 1863, that was published in The Oregonian a week later. He said, “I arrived at this place yesterday evening. The town is dull, awful dull. Everybody has gone to Boise, and everybody else getting ready to go.”

Luna House Hotel, Lewiston. [Illust-North]

This refrain had, of course, been operable for a good many weeks. All the northern gold towns had lost people, sometimes nine out of ten from their peaks. Mudsill went on, “This is not the route for miners to travel now. I am informed that Mr. Sanborn is out at work on the trail with a force of ten or fifteen men; but saddle horses are scarce and high, and the opportunities for getting goods taken out are not good.”

That remark referred to Homer D. Sanborn, a native of New Hampshire, who had emigrated west in 1857, when he was in his early twenties. He settled first in Oregon, and then followed the rush into Idaho. By 1862, Sanborn had established himself as a Lewiston merchant.

A week or so earlier, folks in Lewiston had raised $2,000 to finance construction of a good road south to the mining camps of the Boise Basin (Placerville, and so on). Sanborn had agreed to supervise the work.  An earlier report said his team “will remove all rocks and obstructions found, will build such bridges as may [be] necessary on small streams or over deep gulches, and place ferries or rafts on such places as are necessary.”

Yet the project provided only a temporary ray of hope. Once the roads in southern Idaho improved, Lewiston lost any role for the mines there. Sanborn himself eventually gave up on Lewiston and returned to Portland.

Mudsill’s letter to the Oregonian continued, “I have been diligent in obtaining information concerning the mines near this place. … Elk City is dull, little doing. Cause, want of water. Florence is dull – causes too numerous to mention. Oro Fino is more prosperous – laborers in demand at five dollars per day, without board, and supplies cheap.”

Changing topics, he said, “Umatilla Landing is a lively place, but persons intending to sojourn or locate there, must not be too expectant.” As evidence, he mentioned “Taylor’s Restaurant,” one of the most heavily publicized establishments in town. But the eatery was actually located “in a loose board shed, some ten or twelve feet in width, and cobbled up against the side of one of the few more permanent structures of the town.”

Umatilla Landing, ca 1864.
Umatilla Museum and Historical Foundation.

Some businesses still felt the effects from everyone stocking up when freight costs on the river steamboats were low. The writer said, “I saw packers and teamsters soliciting freight for Boise at sixteen cents per pound. Some of them stated that they had been waiting for three weeks without procuring a load.”

Mudsill noted in passing that he had encountered “a real live vigilance committee” – which sounded more like a civilian posse – on his journey. He averred that it was “the first that has ever come under my immediate personal observation in this country.”

He was not “favorably impressed.” They had recovered some stolen horses from two “somewhat notorious” thieves, but had let the crooks get away. Moreover, as Mudsill's party left, the posse had decided to indulge in “Capt. Alcohol, embodied in a keg of whiskey.” And, from “the hearty welcome he received from the company,” the usual outcome could be expected.
                                                                                

References: [Illust-State]

Joseph Gaston, Portland, Oregon: It’s History and Builders, The S. J. Clarke Publishing Co., Chicago (1911).

“Letter from Lewiston,” The Oregonian, Portland (June 23, 1863).

Bonner County Split Off from Kootenai, Coeur d’Alene Ready to Pounce [otd 02/21]

On February 21, 1907, Idaho Governor Frank Gooding signed the legislative act that split Bonner County away from Kootenai County.

Creation of Bonner County was straightforward enough, and a general election confirmed Sandpoint as the county seat. Soon, they established a county government and built a courthouse.

Bonner County Courthouse, Sandpoint, ca 1910.
J. H. Hawley photo.

However, the legislation left the new, reduced Kootenai County with some unfinished business. The Idaho Territorial legislature had created Kootenai County in 1864 [blog, Dec 22]. Oddly enough, the original definition did not include any of the area that eventually became today’s Kootenai County.

The 1864 legislature also created a “Lahtoh” county. Between them, these two encompassed all of Idaho north of the Clearwater River, except for Shoshone County to the east. In 1867, legislators amended the creation Act to call the entire region Kootenai County, which “technically” wiped out Lahtoh.

However, the issue was moot because the whole region contained too few white inhabitants to organize a government. Thus, Nez Perce County officials in Lewiston handled administrative matters all the way to the Canadian border.

Then, in the 1870s, homesteaders began to colonize north of the Clearwater, establishing settlements along the Palouse and Potlatch rivers. These settlers thought of themselves as being in an unorganized Latah County, and chafed under Lewiston’s control. They got their own government in 1888, when the southern part of Kootenai was officially split off as Latah County.

Meanwhile, the area further north had grown some after the Army established Fort Sherman in 1879 [blog, Apr 16]. Prospects improved even more when it became known that the Northern Pacific Railroad planned to lay track across the Idaho Panhandle. Business leaders in Coeur d’Alene City, next to the Fort, watched the growth and prepared to exploit it

They completed the necessary paperwork in July 1881, when the rails reached Rathdrum. All seemed positive for Coeur d'Alene City to become the county seat until the Recorder moved his store – and all the county records – to Rathdrum. By this rather ad hoc act, Rathdrum became the county seat of Kootenai County. The county formed a rough rectangle 30-50 miles wide and 140 miles long. Few settlers lived in the northernmost sections.

Coeur d’Alene, ca. 1910. Museum of North Idaho.

With the discovery of gold and silver in the mountains east of Lake Coeur d'Alene, Coeur d'Alene City became the "gateway" to the mining districts. Off and on for the next 20 years, the town fought to capture the county seat, but they never quite had the numbers. However, after the turn of the century, the timber industry blossomed into the driving force behind the region's economy.

Situated on lakes that allowed easy timber transport, Coeur d'Alene City and Sandpoint grew rapidly. It is estimated that by 1907, when Kootenai and Bonner were separated, Coeur d'Alene City had grown from about 500 to over 4,000 people and Sandpoint from perhaps 250 to nearly 1,500. Rathdrum lagged behind at less than a thousand.

Thus, a 1908 vote in the truncated Kootenai County moved the county seat to Coeur d'Alene City, where it still is.
                                                                                
Reference: [French], [Hawley], [Illust-North]