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.