Jailbreak and Recapture in Murray [otd 11/17]

On November 17, 1890, the jailer for the Murray, Idaho jail, a man named Ives, brought a carrier loaded with evening meals into the jailhouse. The load was no doubt somewhat awkward since he had rations for all six inmates. Prisoner Nicholas Tully – being held for assault with intent to kill, but considered a “trustee” – offered his help.

Murray, Idaho ca. 1907.
Central Washington University Archives.

When Ives entered the cell block, Tully and another prisoner jumped him. After a brief struggle, they overpowered Ives, then bound and gagged him. In moments, all six prisoners were free. However, it was still light, so they decided to wait for the cover of darkness.

Established in 1884, Murray (Murrayville, initially) was one of the most important Coeur d’Alene mining towns. A special election in June 1885 made it the county seat … and therefore the site of the county jail. The exact construction date is unclear, but a suitable structure was in place by 1888 at the latest.

The prisoners had already taken the jailer’s watch, money, and keys … and locked him in a cell. Now they searched the office, but could find only two revolvers. When darkness fell, they crept out of town. All the escapees were fairly hard cases: Besides attempted killer Tully, they included two who were in for grand larceny, two for highway robbery, and one for murder.

As soon as he thought it was safe, Ives managed to chew through his rope gag. After awhile, a passerby heard his calls and came in to help. The sheriff was away and no one had any spare keys, so the rescuers had to file through some of the cage bars to set him free.

A county commissioner hastily organized a small posse. The pursuers headed out at first light. Two men crossed over a local pass to Delta, about four miles west and slightly south of Murray. There, they found some trace of the escapees: The report does not say what signs they found, but in those days many men were skilled trackers.

They followed the signs south along Beaver Creek for four or five miles, and discovered the fugitives skulking through the fields. They knew the narrowing canyon would soon force the escapees back onto the road, so they hurried ahead. There, the pursuers encountered the Wallace stage driver and another man, and they agreed to help.

The two original posse men hid along the road while their new allies rushed back toward where the first two had seen the runaways. When the six fugitives straggled out of the brush, the pursuers confronted them. In a well-timed move, the stage driver and his helper sprang out behind the six with shotguns. Outgunned, the escapees surrendered without a fight.

Reference: [Hawley], [Illust-North]

Opening Day for the Academy of Idaho (Now Idaho State University) Classes [otd 9/22]

On Monday September 22, 1902, the Academy of Idaho – precursor to today’s Idaho State University – celebrated its first opening exercise. Ironically, the people of Pocatello wanted the Academy so badly, it almost didn’t get off the ground.

Pocatello, ca 1895. Bannock County Historical Society.

Pocatello was incorporated in 1889. As a major railroad junction, it grew explosively, topping 4,000 citizens by the 1900 census. After hard lobbying by locals, the governor signed a bill, in March 1901, that authorized the creation of the Academy [blog, Mar 11]. The institution would provide college prep and “industrial” (vo-tech) courses. However, the Act allocated no money to buy land for the school; that was up to the people of Pocatello. The bill set a deadline of May 1st for a site decision.

The subsequent dispute almost killed the Academy before it started. The city split mainly over whether the school should be east or west of the railroad tracks and yards. However, even within those factions, splinter groups formed to push specific sites. The wrangling continued for over six weeks. By April 30, the day before the legal deadline, they had reached an impasse. The Pocatello Tribune reported, “The Board then took a recess and a lot of people went out on the streets and swore.”

Finally, “under the gun,” they settled on what is now the lower part of the ISU campus. Forty students showed up for those first classes in 1902. By the end of the decade, school enrollment would reach nearly 300. In 1906, the Academy’s first Principal, John W. Faris, wrote, “The Academy has demonstrated beyond the question of a doubt that it fills a most important place in the educational system of Idaho.”

Academy, ca. 1914. H. T. French.

School administrators moved aggressively, adding three city blocks to the campus in 1910 and expanding the school’s offerings: night classes for adult education, winter short courses, and summer sessions. Even that early, they had aspirations to attain full four-year status. The only immediate result of their lobbying was a name change – to “Idaho Technical Institute” (ITI) – in 1915.

Recovering from a severe downturn during World War I, the school’s enrollment topped a thousand by 1920. Locals continued to push for four-year status. Finally fed up, the 1927 legislature took drastic action: They made ITI a subordinate division of the University. For the next twenty years, the Pocatello school would be the “Southern Branch of the University of Idaho.”

World War II crushed enrollment again, but afterwards about a thousand veterans attending under the G.I. Bill increased the student body to over 1,800 students. Thus, in 1947, the school became Idaho State College, an independent, four-year institution. Curriculum expansion became a major priority, and the school attained University status in 1963.

Since then the school has grown steadily. That included the addition of a major “College of Health-Related Professions” and a nearby Research and Business Park. The Park began with a large Technology Center that provided space for business start-ups and science-related spin-offs. It now contains a half-dozen substantial facilities, private and public.
                                                                                                                                     

References: [Hawley]

Merrill D. Beal, History of Idaho State College, Idaho State College (1952).

Diane Olson, Idaho State University: A Centennial Chronicle, Idaho State University (2000).

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).

 Today's On This Day items gives me a chance to plug my book: Before the Spud: Indians, Buckaroos, and Sheepherders in Pioneer Idaho.

Con Shea was a major player in that history, along with many, many other pioneer stock raisers. Have a look at: Before The Spud.

Cornerstone Laid for Ambitious, Expensive, and Historic County Courthouse [otd 08/11]

On August 11, 1883, officials for Alturas County laid the cornerstone for a new county courthouse. The projected cost of the highly ambitious structure, which was to include both the court facilities as well as a jail, was authorized at $40 thousand (about $6 million using today’s labor costs).

Alturas County – Medium blue shows original. Dark Blue line: border in 1883.

The very first session of the Idaho Territorial Legislature defined, or re-defined, seven counties for the area “west of the Rocky Mountains.” One of those seven, created on February 4, 1864, was Alturas County. The original Alturas County contained nearly half the area of southern Idaho. It spanned about two-thirds of the east-west distance, and encompassed an area from the Snake River north to the Salmon River watershed. The original county seat was set as Esmeralda, a mining camp that soon disappeared. After April 1864, Rocky Bar served as the county seat. For fifteen years or so, mining in the Boise River watershed dominated the County’s economy.

Not much happened in eastern Alturus because of ongoing Indian unrest. However, after the Bannock War of 1878 [blog, June 8], stock raising grew on the Camas Prairie, and prospectors found rich lead-silver lodes in the Wood River Valley [blog, April 26]. The towns of Bellevue, Ketchum, and Hailey sprang up in 1880-1881.

The silver boom drew most of Alturas County’s population eastward. Thus, in the summer of 1882, after a bitter battle among the three towns, Hailey became the county seat. Prosperity seemed even more assured as Oregon Short Line railroad tracks marched across Idaho, and officials said Hailey would have a branch line connection before the next summer.

So, in February 1883, the legislature approved an Act that allowed Alturas County to issue $40 thousand in bonds to fund a new courthouse-jail. After the cornerstone ceremony in August, construction proceeded into the following year. The structure was completed, and accepted from the builder on August 1, 1884.

The Salt Lake City Tribune published (August 7, 1884) a long account from their correspondent in Hailey. The writer said, “The courthouse deserves more than mere mention. It is a very large, substantial and well arranged structure, located on the bench overlooking Hailey and the valley. The basement is of cut stone, and in it is located the jail, constructed of sheet steel and angle iron, riveted like boiler work.”

Citizen were proud that the project had “for once in the west” stayed within budget. The writer went on, “The finishing touches are now being put on the structure, which will be ample for some years to come.”

But, as usual, the boom times did not last. Within four years, silver production had dropped off drastically. Then silver prices fell in 1892, following by the financial Panic of 1893. The county took years to pay off the bonded indebtedness. Still, they were finally able to add to the structure in 1907.

Alturas/Blaine County Courthouse, ca 1919. [Hawley]

The complex history of how Alturas County disappeared as a political entity is far beyond the scope of this article. Suffice to say that eight completely new counties were created from Alturas, and it contributed healthy chunks to six others. Hailey survived as the county seat of Blaine County, created in 1895, but the county contains only about one-ninth the area of the original.

The Blaine County Courthouse was placed on the National Register of Historical Places in 1978. Although parts of the old building must sometimes be cordoned off for repairs or upgrades, it is still in use by county officials and employees.
                                                                                 

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

“Alturas County,” Reference Series No. 112, Idaho State Historical Society (1966).

George A. McLeod, History of Alturas and Blaine Counties Idaho, The Hailey Times, Publisher, Hailey, Idaho (1930).

Herrold Family Off To War

As some of you know, one of my COVID-19 “lockdown” projects has been to explore how many of my forbears served in the Civil War. That number is already nearly 190, and I expect to add many more. We have extracted and saved a lot of information. But it takes a long time to enter the data into our genealogical database because many new names spark additional research. (We use “Reunion” software to store the data on a Mac).

So far, we’ve found many great stories. And the last few days brought one that seemed worth posting now. According to the National Park Service database, over 200 men named “Herrold” (or “Herold,” alternatively) served in the Civil War. (Almost all of them fought on the Union side.)

As it happens, at least a half dozen of those veterans were my fourth cousins. (Not real close, but not that distant either.) More to the point, that Herrold generation supplied fourteen closely related soldiers to the Union Army. To see how closely related they were among themselves, I decided to pick a source and let the software work it out. I finally chose Henry Herrold (1838-1922) as the focus. I picked him because, in 1863, he married his second cousin, which helped tie some threads together.

Also, he was part of the family that had moved the furthest west. This particular Herrold branch is believed to have come to the American Colonies from Germany around 1750, settling in an area about fifty miles east of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A half century later, part of the family moved west to clear homesteads in a region about seventy miles southeast of Columbus, Ohio. They then split further, with some going to a region about forty miles west of South Bend, Indiana. That was probably around 1845, about ten years after that town was formally established.

The fourteen who enlisted for the Civil War included Henry’s brother and an uncle, with the rest being first or second cousins. Among them were four brothers, all of whom joined the 9th Indiana Infantry Regiment. In fact, that regiment had five Herrold’s serving in it, three of them in the same company. Two other Herrolds served in the 35th Indiana Infantry Regiment. And, late in the war when he was just old enough, yet another Herrold enlisted in the 138th Indiana Infantry Regiment. Six related Herrolds who remained in Ohio ended up serving in six different Ohio regiments. 

9th Indiana Infantry Regiment. National Archives.

 The 9th Indiana took part in most of the major battles in the western theater, including: Shilo, Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain, Nashville, and at least a dozen more. It also served at the sieges of Corinth, Chattanooga, and Atlanta. The 35th Indiana largely fought alongside the 9th, in many of the same actions. The 138th Indiana, organized late in the war, was assigned to guard duty along vital railway lines in Tennessee and Alabama.

Except for two called up for guard duty late in the war, the Ohio regiments also saw hard action, including at the Battle of Antietam, and closed with the Siege of Petersburg and the Appomattox Campaign.

This family generation risked a lot to preserve the Union and free the slaves. Half of them were married, either before or actually during the war. Between them, they had ten children at the time of the war (and many more later). They did not escape unscathed. Two died early in the war, Jonathan Herrold being killed in action at the Battle of Stones River (central Tennessee, 1862). Since he had three brothers in the regiment, one in the same company, it’s entirely possible one of them saw him go down. The family of Joseph S. Herrold did see him before he died. He was allowed to go home, probably to recover from wounds, but expired in January 1862.

Records state that another Joseph Herrold was wounded at the Battle of Shilo, but was able to recover. Sadly, those kinds of files can be a bit spotty. Thus, notes indicate that David Herrold was discharged early (May 1861) due to “disability,” but do not say whether that was due to wounds or illness. It was perhaps not totally a blessing that he lived another half-century. He spent his final three years in and out of a veterans’ home/hospital, where he died in 1916.

Overall, records suggest that seven of these Herrold veterans suffered from the lingering effects of their service in the war. We have no such evidence for the remaining five. Of course, that was long before the mental health impacts were recognized. Still, considering the carnage, the family may have felt fortunate that so many survived.

Incredibly, these fourteen soldiers made up all but two of the related generation who were of the right age. One of the two cannot be accounted for, and may have died as a child. The other would have been just 18 years old at the start of the war. Perhaps the family discouraged him from signing up just so there would be another grown-up male around to help with their various homesteads.
                                                                                                                                      

References: Census records, city directory listings, and other genealogical sources were consulted extensively. Online sources included Ancestry.com and others.

Frederick H. Dyer, A Compendium of the War of the Rebellion, The Dyer Publishing Company, Des Moines, Iowa (1908).

Genealogy & History: Cousin Connections to the Civil War

During research for one of my true crime articles, I discovered just how much data about veterans of the Civil War is available online. There are a great many sites, and one of the easiest to use is a database hosted by the National Park Service at this URL.

So, just for fun, I decided to search the DB for “Filby” (and the various alternative spellings). All told, I got over thirty hits after the obvious duplicates were weeded out. A quick review of the list turned up three names that were already in our Filby genealogy file (Reunion software, on a Mac). I decided to widen the search … and have already found over a dozen relatives who fought in the Union Army. And we’re still working on it.

One of the most interesting links focused on my five-times removed grandfather Thomas Filby (1779-1822). He had a brother, Samuel (1798-1873), who had three sons who fought in the Civil War. They were Thomas (1840-1905), Samuel, Jr. (1844-1898), and William (1847-1919). These men were, of course, my first cousins (five times removed).

Thomas and William enlisted in 1862 and, on November 23, 1862, were mustered into Company C, 18th Pennsylvania Cavalry Regiment. William must have blatantly lied about his age, with his brother backing him up. The unit had relatively easy duty to begin with, serving as part of the defensive garrison for Washington, DC. They were actually fortunate for them, since they had been equipped with castoff swords, obsolete carbines, and (apparently) no revolvers.

18th Pennsylvania Cavalry, ca 1863. Library of Congress.

At the beginning of 1863, the 18th Pennsylvania Cavalry was transferred into northern Virginia, where they encounter the famous Moseby’s Rangers. A regimental history states that Moseby considered their arms so inferior that “it did not pay to capture them.” In fact, Thomas was captured while on picket duty … but was soon released. The Army finally upgraded their weaponry in the spring when they became part of the Army of the Potomac.

In late June, the regiment saw its first serious action at the Battle of Hanover, about 13 miles east of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. At the subsequent Battle of Gettysburg, the regiment participated in one major charge, then spent the rest of the time skirmishing with Confederate scouts and probes. The regiment saw almost continuous action from then on, including at The Wilderness and the Battle of Cold Harbor.

They were then transferred to the Shenandoah Valley for that campaign, where they again saw hard action. Thus, on October 19, 1864, the regiment took part in the Third Battle of Winchester, which, according to the National Park Service, many historians consider “the most important conflict of the Shenandoah Valley.”

A few weeks before that battle, Samuel Filby enlisted in the 50th Pennsylvania Infantry Regiment. The 50th had seen brutal action in many theaters before rejoining the Army of the Potomac for the major battles of 1864. They had taken heavy losses and needed reinforcements badly. Tough as the Shenandoah Campaign was for his brothers, Sam probably had it worse. For the 50th played a major role in the Siege of Petersburg. After taking part in the final breakthrough there, the regiment joined in the pursuit leading to General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Courthouse on April 9, 1865.

Meanwhile, the 18th Pennsylvania Cavalry was still busy in the Shenandoah Valley, adding more battle stars to its record. Thomas, however, had been injured in an accident and was too disabled for combat duty. He was reassigned to the “Veteran Reserve Corps.” All told, the regiment fought in around fifty significant actions. Around 300 soldiers died in action or from disease. Probably over 200 men suffered crippling wounds, injuries, or sickness. Some, like Thomas, were transferred to the Reserve Corps, but most received medical discharges. The regiment also lost over 250 men to desertion or missing in action. Shortly after the last Confederate units surrendered, remnants of the 18th were consolidated with another depleted regiment to form a new “provisional” cavalry regiment.

William Filby was discharged in July 1865, about a month after Samuel. The Reserve Corps still had duties guarding government facilities and property during the post-war demobilization. Thus, Thomas Filby was not discharged until August. Having survived the war, the three brothers returned to Greene County, in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania. They married, and began raising families. All went into farming, although William also worked as a carpenter for a time.

Thomas, of course, had survived an injury during the war, but none of the brothers really escaped unscathed. Thus, William filed for “Invalid” status on his military pension in 1879, when he was in his early thirties. Samuel followed with the same request four years later, when he was less than forty years old. Finally, Thomas filed for Invalid status in 1888. He was less than fifty years old. Still, only Samuel died relatively young … in 1898 when he was 54 years old. Thomas Filby died in 1905, and William in 1919.

Pennsylvania Monument at Gettysburg. National Park Service.

I don’t expect to find anyone famous in our continued search, although William did attain the rank of sergeant. Two of them – Thomas and William – do have their names inscribed on the Pennsylvania Monument at the Gettysburg National Military Park. Still, the project is already fascinating and who knows what else might turn up? We’ve only found one Filby who joined the Confederate Army, and he changed sides at his first opportunity.

And yes, we’ve already found several other Filby relatives who died as Union soldiers, or did not long survive the end of the war.

                                                                               

References: Extensive use of census, military, and other records available at Ancestry.com

Samuel P. Bates, History of Pennsylvania Volunteers, 1861-5, State Printing Office, Harrisburg (1870).

History of the Eighteen Regiment of Cavalry, Pennsylvania Volunteers, Wynkoop Hallenbeck Crawford Company, New York (1909).