Fur Trader David Thompson Builds Kullyspell House [otd 09/10]

David Thompson, artist’s rendering.
New World Encyclopedia.

On September 10, 1809, fur trader and geographer David Thompson selected a spot on Idaho’s Lake Pend Oreille to build a trading post for the British-Canadian North West Company.

He chose a site only a few miles from the mouth of the Clark Fork (12-14 miles across the lake from today’s Sandpoint). Thus, canoes, rafts, and other vessels could reach the post via the river or from any place on the lake. The structures his men assembled were the very first ever built by Anglo-Americans in the future state of Idaho. Thompson’s Narrative described the construction in a long paragraph. The roof proved adequate against rain, which would run off, but slowly melting snow tended to seep through. He wrote that, “the floors were of split Logs, with the round side downwords.”

London-born to Welsh parents in 1770, Thompson arrived in Canada at age 14, as an indentured apprentice to the Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC). Toward the end of that apprenticeship, David was able to hone his skills in mathematics, navigation, and surveying.

Thompson quit the HBC in 1797, after HBC management ordered him to discontinue his survey work and focus on trading. He took a position with the rival North West Company. David’s new employers encouraged his surveying, which included verifying locations along the Canadian border with the United States.

In 1798, Thompson surveyed Turtle Lake, located about ten miles north of today’s Bemidji, Minnesota. He judged that a creek there could be considered the source of the Mississippi River, an important consideration in the boundary negotiations between the U. S. and Great Britain. His determination is now considered incorrect, but he was not off by that much. (And prior to that, no one really had any idea where the source might be.)

In 1804, Thompson was made a full partner in the North West Company. Word that U.S. President Thomas Jefferson had dispatched the Corps of Discovery to explore the Pacific Northwest spurred the Company to greater effort there. Starting in 1807, Thompson explored and surveyed west of the Divide – especially the Columbia River watershed. Kullyspell House was just one of several trading posts he built or helped establish in Idaho, Montana, Washington, and Western Canada.

Company management grew even more alarmed when they learned of plans by the American John Jacob Astor [blog, July 17] to exploit the fur riches of the Pacific Northwest. They declined a partnership offer from Astor, but apparently left the door open for further negotiations.

Early in the summer of 1811, Thompson headed east to Montreal; he needed a rest. Along the way, he received orders to go back and see what the Americans were up to. Oddly enough, he apparently gained the impression that Astor and the North West Company were, in fact, already partners. When Thompson reached the Pacific outlet of the Columbia in July, he found the Americans occupying a completed base at Astoria.

Astoria, 1813. Sketch by clerk Gabriel Franchère.

After examining Astoria and consulting with his (he thought) new partners, Thompson headed east to report. By then, Kullyspell House had proven to be a bust; too little income for its considerable upkeep. He closed it down and shifted the area’s operations to a newer post, Spokane House (9-10 mile northwest of today’s Spokane).

Thompson never returned to the West. Today, he is considered the greatest New World geographer ever. He surveyed roughly a fifth of the North American land area, and his maps remained a primary benchmark for over a century. He died in February 1857.
                                                                                                                                     

References: [B&W], [Brit]

Bob Gunter, “Kullyspell House,” Sandpoint.com (1998-2010).

James P. Ronda, Astoria and Empire, University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln (1990).

David Thompson, David Thompson’s Narrative, 1784-1812, Champlain Society, Toronto (1962).

Indians Attack Utter Wagon Train, Survivors Resort to Cannibalism [otd 09/09]

On September 9, 1860, a wagon train rumbled along the Oregon Trail, leaving its campsite on the western side of Castle Creek (about 30 miles west of today’s Mountain Home, Idaho). Most of the emigrants were from Wisconsin, and the nominal leader was Elijah P. Utter*.

Attack on circled wagons.
Retouched still shot from an old Western movie.

Having gotten a late start from the Midwest, the train was well behind the last of the “normal” groups when it reached the Fort Hall area. From there, a party of dragoons provided an escort as far as Rock Creek. There is some uncertainty as to why the troops returned east without waiting for the expected escort from further west. Whatever the case, a troop did not come to meet them for the simple reason that they thought the traveling season was over.

After leaving Castle Creek, the train turned northwest and ascended some high ground. An ominous cloud of dust turned into a mass of Shoshone and Bannock warriors, singing war songs. The emigrants circled the wagons and prepared to defend themselves, while the Indians screamed and waved blankets, trying to stampede the stock.

Heavy fire began on both sides, with the warriors riding around the enclosure, rousing great swirls of dust. Donald Shannon, who has researched the Utter disaster extensively, said in an Idaho Public TV interview, “This was one time that Hollywood sort of got it right.”

After an hour or so, the attackers drew off and signed for a parley: no harm done, we want to be friends … all we want is food. Caught far from water, the pioneers agreed and fed quite a few who entered the wagon circle. Then the Indians disappeared. The whites rolled out of their defensive position. Continuing along the Trail, they did not take the most obvious direct route to reach the river. The Indians reappeared, threatening the train from a distance.

Area of Utter Massacre. D.H. Shannon image.

The emigrants began their descent to the half-mile-wide plain that spread for over a mile along the river. Almost immediately, the Indians resumed their attack and killed three men. The whites struggled into a circle again, at a location far from water. This time the warriors pressed the attack. They continued into the evening, and then yelled and fired at any movement during the night.

After a second day of siege, the emigrants made a desperate attempt to break out. They left half the wagons behind for the Indians to loot, but that failed to entice all the attackers away. Only when the whites abandoned all the wagons and other possessions did the Indians cease their attacks.

If anything, the horrors suffered by the emigrants after that were worse, but the details are gruesome … and beyond the scope of this article.

In the end, 25 of the 44 people in the train died in the attack or from starvation later. Some unfortunates resorted to cannibalism to survive. Additionally, four children were abducted – three of them soon died and the other never returned to his family. No other Indian attack on the Oregon and California trails caused greater casualties and suffering.

* “Utter” was the preferred family spelling of this Germanic name. Many early accounts gave the name as “Otter,” which suggests that the Old World spelling was “Ütter.” The Ü (u-umlaut) is pronounced rather like the English “ou” or “oo.” (But not quite … my old-school German language teacher insisted on the proper, somewhat guttural sound.) Thus, people recording verbal accounts might perhaps be excused for writing it down as “Otter.”
                                                                                                                                     

References: [B&W], [Hawley]

Donald H. Shannon, The Utter Disaster On The Oregon Trail, Snake Country Publishing, Caldwell, Idaho (1993).

Daredevil Cyclist Evel Knievel Attempts Snake River Canyon Jump [otd 09/08]

On Sunday, September 8, 1974, motorcycle stunt rider Robert Craig (Evel) Knievel launched his jet-powered “Skycycle” across the Snake River canyon at a spot near Twin Falls, Idaho. Idaho was Evel’s second choice to the Grand Canyon. As a Sport Illustrated writer put it, the U.S. Park Service had “refused to grant him permission to kill himself on federal property.”

Knievel in the Snake River canyon.
Sport Illustrated cover.

Perhaps the most successful professional daredevil of all time, Robert was born in 1938, in Butte, Montana. A high school dropout, he picked up his nickname – originally “evil” – during a teenaged stint in jail for reckless driving. He relished the image, but later used the “Evel” spelling to distance himself from outlaw motorcycle vibes.

A gifted natural athlete, Knievel pursued several action sports, including pro rodeo, ice hockey, ski jumping, and motocross. He arranged what is said to be his first public motorcycle stunt in 1965. He tried a forty-foot jump over two mountain lions and a cage filled with rattlesnakes. His crash damaged the snake pen and sent some of the reptiles slithering toward the spectators. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, the show itself was apparently a resounding success.

So he decided to go into the motorcycle daredevil business. He tried it with a troupe for awhile, but went solo in the fall of 1966. As Knievel’s jumps – at county fairs, car shows, and other events – got longer, his fees slowly increased.

That was also when his string of injuries – some of them quite severe – began. Yet wild crashes and survivable (barely) injuries fueled his publicity campaign. Finally, on December 31, 1967, his spectacular jump over the Caesar’s Palace fountain, and equally flamboyant crash, won him national recognition: “the guy’s obviously nuts, but … Wow!”

After weeks of recuperation, Evel went right on jumping, earning larger and larger fees. Although he succeeded on the vast majority of his jumps, the ever-present element of danger attracted hordes of fans. And Knievel didn’t disappoint, mixing in enough crashes and injuries to set several Guinness World Records.

Evel’s fame reached “fever pitch” in the Seventies. His image graced everything from lunch boxes to tricked-out bicycles. Sensible people deplored the craziness. But all across the country, uncounted numbers of young boys tried to emulate his stunts with their bicycles, and many ended up in the hospital. The kids didn’t just not care how dangerous it was, they wanted it to be risky: “I can jump six trash cans.” [Not!]

Skycycle descending on its chute.
Evel Knievel Official Web Site.

Yet feeding such an image forced Knievel onto a treadmill. He needed a topper … like jumping the Grand Canyon. Rebuffed on that notion, Evel looked for another spot and finally chose the Twin Falls location: over 500 feet deep and a quarter mile wide, with scary drop-offs on both side.

Unfortunately, after a long build-up, he couldn’t pull off the jump. The Skycycle’s steam-powered takeoff started all right, but then his parachute deployed way too early. He almost made it across anyway, but ended up floating down into the canyon.

This spectacular misfire did no damage to Knievel image, and he continued to draw fans. Even when he stopped jumping himself in the late Seventies, his name drew crowds to the show starring his son Robbie. After something of a lull, he regained and then kept his marketability into the year of his death in late 2007.

Knievel is a member of the Motorcycle Hall of Fame and one of his motorcycles is on display at the Smithsonian. 
                                                                                                                                     

References: Stuart Barker, Life of Evel Knievel, St. Martin's Press (2008).

Owen Edwards, “Daredevil,” Smithsonian Magazine (March 2008).

Evel Knievel Official Web Site.

Steve Rushin, “Seeing All The Good In Evel,” Sports Illustrated (November 29, 1999).

Boise Banker, Businessman, and School Advocate Horace E. Neal [otd 09/07]

Boise businessman Horace Edwin Neal was born September 7, 1859 in Van Buren County, Iowa, about 100 miles southeast of Des Moines. He was still a small child when the family moved to a farm near the Missouri River in southeast Nebraska. Horace pieced together several years of college classes, taught school for three years, and then worked for several years in Kansas and eastern Colorado.

H. E. Neal. [Illust-State]

Horace and a younger brother, W. Scott Neal, moved to Boise in 1890 and started a business dealing in insurance and real estate. Scott continued with that business for many years, but in 1891 Horace became one of the founders of the Capital State Bank of Idaho. He served first as Assistant Cashier and then, in 1894, as Cashier, a job he held for over a decade.

Horace also had interests outside the bank. At the same time that company was founded, he helped open a chapter of the Young Men’s Christian Association, serving as the organization’s secretary. Unfortunately, that attempt only lasted three or four years before it dissolved. (A new, successful YMCA was formed in 1900, but Neal was then too busy with other activities to take part.)

After being first appointed as Boise City Treasurer in 1893, Neal was then elected to the position. He held the job through 1899. He was also Treasurer of the Independent School District of Boise City for awhile, and would remain a member of the Board of Trustees for many, many years. He and his wife (he married a Boise woman in 1893) were active members of the Methodist Church. Horace taught Sunday school and was at one time President of the state Sunday School Association.

Neal also branched out into other businesses, including investments in oil exploration, mining, a lumber company in Oregon, and a long-distance telephone service. In 1902, he and a group of investors formed the Fairview Investment Company, which successfully developed what is now known as the Fairview District of Boise.

In 1906, delegates at a National Irrigation Congress were given a tour of the Capital State Bank. They were greatly impressed, and knowledgeable observers proclaimed it to be one of the “great banking institutions of the West.” But trouble was brewing.

The details of the “Panic of 1907” are beyond the scope of this article. But the general loss of confidence in the U. S. financial system hit the Capital State Bank hard, and it failed to open for business on January 21, 1908. An independent auditor stated that the bank’s assets fully covered every depositor. But it would take time to convert those assets to cash, if need be; people must be patient. Sadly, that wasn’t good enough and the bank never opened its doors again.

Bank Run in New York, 1907. Library of Congress.

A scapegoat needed to be found. Officials soon arrested Neal, charging him with multiple counts of forgery. Eighteen months of expensive legal sparring followed before prosecutors admitted they had no case and dropped all charges against Horace. By the fall of 1909, he was back in the insurance and real estate business.

Neal also maintained his interest in the education of young people. He continued to serve on the school boards for the county as well as the Methodist Church. He was also Director of the Ada County Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs for a time. Although his company handled real estate loans, he never went back into the banking business.

Horace E. Neal passed away in February of 1932.
                                                                                                                                     

References:[Illustrated State]

Robert F. Bruner, Sean D. Carr, The Panic of 1907: Lessons Learned from the Market's Perfect Storm, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., New York (2007).

“[H. E. Neal News],” Idaho Statesman, Boise (April 1891 – February 1932).

W. C. Jenkins, “The Capital State Bank of Idaho,” The Irrigation Age, Vol. XXI, No. 11, Chicago, Illinois (September 1906).

The Copper Handbook: A Manual of the Copper Industry of the World, Vol. IX, Horace J. Stevens, Houghton, Michigan (1909).

Lewiston State Normal School President George Knepper [otd 9/7]

President Knepper. J. H. Hawley photo.

Lewiston State Normal School President George E. Knepper was born September 7, 1849 in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, 40-60 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. Later the family moved to Illinois.

George did well with a “common” education, finding a job as a teacher while also doing farm work. Later, he taught part-time and served as a school administrator to help finance an A.B. degree and then a Master’s. (He would earn a Ph.D. from a Kansas university in 1904.)

Meanwhile, in Idaho, businessman James Reid coaxed a bill through the legislature to create the Lewiston State Normal School. Backers hoped to alleviate a severe teacher shortage in the state. In 1893, Reid was selected as president of the institution’s Board of Trustees. He knew Knepper through membership in the Masonic Lodge and recruited him as the school’s first President.

Then contractor problems delayed construction of a facility on the bluff overlooking Lewiston. Knepper scrambled to lease space in town, and classes began in January 1896 [blog, Jan 6]. Besides his administrative duties, Knepper taught pedagogy, math, and commercial law. The promised main building was finally dedicated during the summer.

Still, Knepper worried most about money to keep the school going. The 1897 legislative appropriation was so stingy, he removed the school’s only telephone and pared salaries and ancillary costs to the bone. The next session, two years later, added only $1,000 to the allocation. Although enrollment, and income from student fees, had increased, the school remained desperately short of funds.

Knepper turned to the local community. Lewiston residents responded with a needed piano and contributions to buy books for the beginnings of a library. At-cost donations of labor and materials also helped fund badly needed dormitories in 1897.

Knepper also appealed to the student body, urging and sometimes requiring their participation in programs to enhance the school’s sense of community. They responded to his enthusiasm, giving recitations, entertaining with musical shows, playing sports, and more.

Despite its financial problems, the Normal School grew rapidly. On a visit to Boise, Knepper spoke enthusiastically to the Idaho Statesman about their gains. The paper reported (September 29, 1901) that, “This year they have a new department of chemistry, with a very complete laboratory and a special equipment of the most modern and efficient make.”

Then, in 1902, James Reid – Knepper’s good friend and sponsor – died. Within a year, the Board asked (demanded, really) that Knepper resign. No one ever discovered a credible reason for his dismissal.

Lewiston Normal in 1915. Lewis-Clark State College.

Ironically, all his lobbying had finally persuaded the legislature to substantially increase the school’s funding, which he was not there to enjoy. Despite many ups and downs, the college grew, changing its name to Lewis-Clark State College in 1971.

Knepper found employment as president or dean at a succession of small colleges in the midwest until about 1911. That year, he returned to Kendrick, Idaho (18-20 miles east of Moscow), where his son Ralph ran a newspaper. After teaching in the area for several years, he moved to Boise to serve as Secretary for the Masonic Lodge of Idaho.

He passed away, aged 90, in Salmon, where he had gone to live with Ralph.
                                                                                                                                     

References: [Hawley]

Keith C. Petersen, Educating in the American West: One Hundred Years at Lewis-Clark State College, 1893-1993, © Lewis-Clark State College, Confluence Press, Lewiston, Idaho  (1993).

Opening Day for Boise Junior College, Precursor to Boise State University [otd 09/06]

On September 6, 1932, Boise Junior College greeted its first students, 41 men and 37 women. BJC can actually trace its roots back to 1892, when the Episcopal church started St. Margaret's School. For forty years, St. Margaret's offered a “classical education” to girls in Boise.

Opening day, BJC. Boise State University photo.

By 1910, Boise was the largest city in Idaho. Other towns like Caldwell and Nampa further skewed the state’s population toward the Boise River valley. Yet, for reasons too complex to discuss here, the area had no publicly-supported college. Repeated studies recommended some sort of institution for the area, but nothing happened.

By 1932, the demand had become a crescendo. And now, finally, that call benefited from the burgeoning nationwide “junior college movement.”

Many people saw traditional four-year schools as “overkill” for students who just wanted to improve their employment prospects. And the lower costs for a junior college were a better fit for the hard times of the Great Depression. Thus, Episcopal Bishop Middleton S. Barnwell decided to expand St. Margaret's as a co-educational two-year institution. However, he let local leaders know his trial run would probably last only two years.

The school clearly tapped into a real need: enrollment jumped to 125 for the second year. When the trial period ended, the Chamber of Commerce formed Boise Junior College Incorporated, a private non-profit corporation.

Unfortunately, BJC Inc. could barely keep its head above water financially. A $60 per semester student tuition provided the only reliable funding. Funds from a program of corporate membership fees and an annual Jamboree (sponsored by the Boise women’s clubs) plummeted after an initial rush of enthusiasm.

Boise leaders joined others who were pushing a state law to create public junior college districts. Finally, in February 1939, the governor signed a bill that allowed regions to create local districts with the power to levy taxes [blog, Feb 7]. A Boise Junior College District measure passed by almost a 90% margin and BJC enrollment leaped to over 400 students in the fall.

However, the Episcopal diocese needed to reclaim St. Margaret’s Hall to house nurse training for their St. Luke’s Hospital. Fortunately, voters soon passed a bond election to finance a BJC relocation. The school moved to its present campus in late 1940.

Administration Building, Boise Junior College, 1941.
Boise State University photo.

Then World War II reduced student and faculty numbers by over two-thirds, which almost closed the school. Fortunately, it survived … to be swamped by a deluge of students anxious to get a college education under the justly-celebrated G.I. Bill. Within a couple years, enrollment rose to around a thousand students, with 53 full-time faculty.

By the late Fifties,  the region stretching from Mountain Home to Weiser contained roughly 30% of Idaho’s population, and locals now sought a four-year institution. Years of campaigning led to the creation of Boise College in 1965, with a brand new four-year curriculum. At first the expanded institution received no state funding. However, four years later, it became Boise State College, a part of the state system of higher education.

Demands for postgraduate studies steadily rose in Boise and, by the early 1970s, the school had implemented programs for a Masters in Business Administration and in Elementary Education. Finally, in February 1974, the institution became Boise State University. Today, BSU has the highest enrollment of any school in the state.
                                                                                                                                     

References: Glen Barrett, Boise State University: Searching for Excellence, 1932-1984, Boise State University (1984).

Eugene B. Chaffee, Boise College: An Idea Grows, Syms-York Company, Boise (© Eugene B. Chaffee, 1970).

This is Boise State, Boise State University Communications and Marketing (2011).

Astorian Fur Trade Party Led by Robert Stuart at American Falls [otd 09/05]

On September 5, 1812, fur trader Robert Stuart wrote in his journal, “The whole body of the stream is here scarcely 60 feet wide, but immediately above expands to the breadth of half a mile, with little or no current and the banks sufficiently covered with Willows to afford a plentiful supply of food for the incredible numbers of furred animals who inhabit its borders.”

American Falls before dam construction. Library of Congress.

Stuart's note referred to the Snake River as it constricted into the cascades at Idaho's American Falls. Stuart and the six men with him camped about three miles above the Falls. The band worked for the Pacific Fur Company, an affiliate of John Jacob Astor’s American Fur Company (AFC) [blog, July 17]. The men carried dispatches from Astoria, the company’s base at the mouth of the Columbia River.

Stuart had traveled to Astoria by sea and had never seen (the future) Idaho before this trip. However, Ramsey Crooks and at least two of the other men with Stuart had explored it during the earlier Wilson Price Hunt east-to-west crossing [blog, October 5 and others]. The men’s misfortunes began less than a week after they re-entered Idaho in mid-August: An Indian guide, who had seemed trustworthy, stole their best horse and disappeared.

After that, other problems plagued them: oppressive summer heat, mosquitos and other insect pests, lack of reliable water sources, and a rugged countryside almost devoid of trails. A fifty-mile stretch between today’s Bruneau and Buhl was particularly bad. It’s now known as the Bruneau Desert, with one feature called Deadman Flat. On one day, after eighteen grueling miles, they stumbled upon “a small patch of grass.” (This might have been near Tuana Springs, 4-5 miles southwest of today’s Bliss.) Looking ahead, they saw nothing but arid, rocky ground, so they decided to stop and let their horses rest and feed.

Stuart and Crooks are credited with the earliest descriptions of much of what became the Oregon Trail. Pioneers trudging the Trail at mid-century would endure the same conditions, but they at least had a marked track to follow.

The returning Astorians found the area above American Falls more agreeable. Stuart wrote: “The country passed since yesterday morning has improved greatly – the sage, and its detestable relations, gradually decrease, and the soil, though parched, produces provender in abundance.”

Robert Stuart, by unknown artist.
Robert Stuart House Museum.

They next trekked up the course of the Portneuf River, and then crossed a regional divide to Soda Springs. Along the Idaho-Wyoming border, disaster struck: A band of Crow Indians ran off all their horses. Forced to walk, they could not escape the mountains before heavy snows caught them. They spent the winter in a crude camp on the North Platte River about twenty-five miles upstream from Scotts Bluff.

Several months later, they built canoes and floated down the river. The Astorians reached an outlying trading post in mid-April, 1813, and learned “the disagreeable news of a war between America & Great Britain.”

The War of 1812 ruined Astor’s venture in the Far West, but not his overall fur trade empire. Stuart went on to become an influential leader in the AFC. When the company established a major post on Mackinac Island, in northern Michigan, Stuart was placed in charge.

After that post closed in 1835, Stuart moved to Detroit. He played a prominent role in the development of Michigan, before his death in 1848.
                                                                                                                                     

References: [B&W]

O. C. Comstock, “Sketch of the Life of Hon. Robert Stuart,” Report of the Pioneer Society of the State of Michigan, Vol. III, Robert Smith Printing Co., Lansing (1881 issue, reprinted 1903).

Robert Stuart, Kenneth A. Spaulding (ed.), On The Oregon Trail: Robert Stuart’s Journey of Discovery, University of Oklahoma Press (1953).

Stuart House Museum, Mackinac Island, Michigan.