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  <title type="text">Intermountain Histories</title>
  <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:16+00:00</updated>
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    <name>Intermountain Histories</name>
    <uri>https://www.intermountainhistories.org</uri>
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  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Chinden Boulevard: Remembering Chinese Contributions to Boise]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Many residents of Idaho’s capital know the name “Boise” comes from the French word for “wooded,” but will those who call “The City of Trees” home recognize another familiar name in the valley that recalls Idaho’s storied past as a culturally diverse frontier territory?</p></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/a9f4450a4cbf7c33cbfa46eac170c193.jpg" alt="A Festival on Chinden" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">“Chinden Boulevard,” or US Highway 20/26 is a vital East-West artery of the Boise metropolitan area which connects suburban homes to the workplaces, restaurants, and entertainment centers of the capital city’s quaint downtown. Many commuters on this road, or those pleasure-seekers out for a night on the town, are, perhaps, unaware that the road’s name bears the memory of the Chinese immigrants who came to the region decades before Idaho achieved statehood. Instead of the tattoo parlors and used car lots lining the road today, near the end of the 19th century, the road passed acres of beautiful vegetable gardens planted and cared for by Chinese immigrants, thus earning the name “China-garden,” or “Chinden.”</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The discovery of gold in Southern Idaho in 1862 marked the beginning of a mass migration into the region that extended over the course of multiple decades and paved the way to statehood. Though united in their search for fortune and opportunity, the early prospectors and adventurers who braved this new frontier came from diverse cultural and ethnic backgrounds. One early resident of Idaho expressed his first impression of Boise in these words: “In the courtyard of the Overland Hotel I saw, the morning of my arrival in Boise, an Irishman, a Spaniard, a Frenchman, two Chinamen, a Canadian, an Englishman—and not an American.”</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Early Idaho was diverse and one prominent group in the cultural patchwork of the region was Chinese immigrants. In fact, in a population of about 20,600 in the territory of Idaho in 1869, 4,274 were Chinese. Though many Chinese came to the region in search of gold, over time they took up other pursuits. Indeed, it could be said that in the Idaho Gold Rush the Chinese abided by the idiom, “during a gold rush, sell shovels.” Instead of mining, many began shop keeping, cleaning laundry, raising pigs, and growing and selling vegetables to mining communities. Initially, the produce from these Chinese gardens was intended for Chinese miners, but—due to the quality and availability of the vegetables—the market quickly expanded outside Chinese circles to entire communities. The produce attracted such praise that one newspaper commented that, “most of their productions surpass in size and excellence the imported articles.” With Boise as the main supply center of the region and many Chinese looking to sell their goods and services to miner customers, many Chinese gravitated to the city, becoming a crucial part of both the city and territorial economy. In 1871, a newspaper noted that “The China population are planting gardens here pretty extensively. They are so patient and puttering that they do well.” These “patient and puttering” gardeners were known to group together to lease land for their various crops. Each took part in planting, harvesting, and selling their produce.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">During the growing season, work in the fields would begin before dawn. By sun-up, their carts would be loaded and ready for making deliveries to homes or selling vegetables in the streets. Another newspaper report illustrates a typical interaction between a Chinese vegetable peddler and their client: “John Chinaman makes his appearance at our door bright and early every morning, with the traditional pole and baskets, the latter filled with every variety of fresh plucked and cool vegetables.” Clearly, the Chinese presence in Boise was prominent as they filled a variety of needs for a variety of customers on a regular basis.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">While newspapers at times praised the industry of Chinese workers, their often patronizing tone is indicative of both the underlying and overt racism and persecution the Chinese in Idaho endured. Indeed, as far removed as the territory was, it was not far enough to escape the waves of anti-Asian legislation that spread in the wake of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. After only a few decades, many Chinese left Idaho, and the once vibrant Chinese community became a shadow of what it once was. Today, Chinden Boulevard still passes through Garden City, the lowlands west of Boise’s downtown where scores of Chinese immigrants cultivated gardens to build themselves better lives. Though their exodus out of Idaho left a vacancy in Boise’s Chinese population that has not been filled since, the memory of their resolve in the face of adversity can continue to inspire generations of Idahoans as they travel along the old China-gardens road.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/739">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2023-04-07T18:08:21+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:16+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/739"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/739</id>
    <author>
      <name>Jacob Johnson, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Hall Fruit Farm]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The Hall Fruit Farm has produced fruit in North Ogden for over one hundred years. The family farm continues to serve its community and surrounding areas with fresh fruit. </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/e08fda23886eeecc022566ed06f8057c.jpg" alt="Henry Hall and his wife. " /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">The Hall Fruit Farm is a beloved historic site in North Ogden, Utah. The farm dates back to 1905 when John Hall Sr. built his family home and bought nearly one hundred acres of land. John Hall Sr. was born in 1857 in England. He met his sweetheart Annie Parratt and the two found their way to Ogden, Utah, in October 1883. In 1890, John built one of the first brick homes in the North Ogden area and, in 1905, he developed just over 100 acres of orchard land near the mouth of the North Ogden canyon, an area known as “The Bench.”John was also a skilled cabinet maker and built many homes in the Ogden area from 1890 to 1925.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">His son, Henry C. Hall, and his wife, Amelia Ford Hall, took over the farm in 1915 and built the reputation of the farm. Henry was diligent in the farm's upkeep and found great joy in the production of fruit. The farm produced mainly peaches and apples and was known throughout Utah and surrounding states.  </span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Eventually, the farm was named H.C. Hall Fruit Farm. After Henry passed, the farm was taken over by his two sons, Henry R. Hall and George F. Hall. While Henry took the lead, the two renamed the farm the Hall Brothers Fruit Farm. Henry was active in the Weber County Horticultural Society and became president in 1960. </span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">In 2000, the Hall Brothers Fruit Farm was incorporated. The Hall Fruit Farm continues to produce fruit for small stores and farmer's markets around the state. Despite the passing of both Henry and George, the farm remains within the family and continues to serve fresh fruit to Weber County.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/669">For more (including 2 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-10-17T16:27:03+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/669"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/669</id>
    <author>
      <name>Claire Crismon, Weber State University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[The Lehi Roller Mills]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>A landmark in Lehi, Utah, the Lehi Roller Mills has come to be a symbol of the town and of Utah. </p></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/9b14be84f5edd95872eb05139567da0e.jpg" alt="Lehi Roller Mills" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">Founded in 1906, the Lehi Roller Mills started as a coalition of farmers milling their wheat together. George G. Robinson purchased the new mills in 1910, having learned milling from his father back in Delaware. The Robinson family used wheat from farmers in the surrounding area, converting that wheat into flour. Because of the agriculture focus of the region, the roller mills became a crucial part of the flour production industry. As the farming expanded, so too did the mills.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The city of Lehi has grown around the roller mills. Most notably, the mills brought fame to Lehi when they were featured in the 1984 movie “Footloose,” starring Kevin Bacon. The round silos painted with images from flour sacks became an icon of Lehi, though the movie did not substantially increase business. Locals were excited to see a part of small town Lehi, Utah represented in a major motion picture. Because of the significance they have had in Lehi’s history, the roller mills were officially added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1994.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The mills expanded their product line from solely flour to include flour-based products, such as brownie or muffin mix. The mixes were sold in local stores, and significantly boosted business. While doing quite well at the turn of the 21</span><span style="font-weight:400;">st</span><span style="font-weight:400;"> century, the roller mills were hit hard by the economic recession of 2006. The mills continued to lose money until, in 2013, the owners filed for bankruptcy. They were purchased by Ken Brailsford on the condition that the Robinson family continue to run the mills under his ownership. Since then, the mills have been rebranded as Lehi Mills, acquiring a new logo and new packaging. As of 2022, the mills continued to operate under Brailsford’s ownership, with profits increasing. Along with the new rebrand, Lehi Mills has begun to distribute their products nation-wide, spreading their business.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/661">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-09-19T21:40:28+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/661"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/661</id>
    <author>
      <name>Adam Weiss, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Lehi Sugar Factory: Development of the Sugar Beet Industry in Utah]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Built following a direct revelation from the prophet Wilford Woodruff, the Lehi Sugar factory marked the fulfillment of a multi decade struggle to bring the beet sugar industry to Utah. With its completion came a great economic opportunity for Lehi and its neighboring cities. </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/e1ae95f87c9d1611f8c85086382bcddb.jpg" alt="Sugar Cos. Mill, Lehi Utah, 1890" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">Since the Mormon pioneers arrived in Utah in 1847, Brigham Young, the prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the time, was determined to help them become a self-sufficient people and bring industry to Utah. Sugar production was one of the industries at the forefront of church leaders’ minds, because of the vast amount of sugar that had to be imported into the area otherwise. Growing sugar cane was not a viable option because of the arid climate. However, around this time, a method was developed in France allowing sugar to be isolated from beets. Leaders of the church, including John Taylor, were assigned to purchase and move beet sugar processing machinery to the West. Once the machinery arrived, church members tested it to see if it would indeed be able to isolate sugar from beets. The project was a massive failure and the church lost a fortune. </span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">No further attempts were made to produce sugar locally until 1889, when sugar beet production was becoming widespread throughout the United States, and the method of producing sugar from beets was more widely understood. Wilford Woodruff, as current president of the church, received a revelation that the will of the Lord was to have a sugar beet factory built in Utah. In order to raise enough capital for the factory, the church used a large sum of tithing money and borrowed from multiple banks. The Lehi Sugar Factory was built, and Wilford Woodruff opened the ceremony that dedicated the factory to the Lord, a common practice in the Church. </span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The sugar factory played a large role in the community, contributing greatly to the financial wellbeing of those living in Lehi and others close by. It provided  many jobs working in the factory and an opportunity for farmers to grow crops. The factory continued to operate from 1891 until 1924, when sugar production was relocated to other factories around the state. The factory lot, formerly owned by the Utah and Idaho Sugar Company, was sold in 1979 to a trucking company where it remains in their possession. The smokestack for the factory has since been converted to a cell phone tower, a symbol of the change that has taken place in Utah’s economy over the years.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/656">For more (including 2 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-09-16T19:12:33+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/656"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/656</id>
    <author>
      <name>Caleb J. Nokes, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Strawberry Reservoir and Ute Lands]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Strawberry Reservoir is known for being a popular fishing and camping spot and is an important contributor to irrigation needs along the Wasatch Front. A lesser known attribute of the reservoir is the cost in Ute Indian lands.  </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/eccbf60b145ad9fa7819f9fe935a27c9.jpg" alt="A Map of Strawberry Valley" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">Strawberry Reservoir is located on the eastern edge of the Wasatch Mountains of Utah, nestled in Strawberry Valley east of Spanish Fork and southeast of Heber City. A tunnel four miles long runs through the Wasatch mountains and carries water from Strawberry Reservoir to the Spanish Fork River, a vital resource for agriculture in Utah Valley.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The reservoir’s history for Utah settlers began at the very start of the twentieth century, when the availability of irrigation water was a major concern for farmers of Utah’s arid lands. While traveling through Strawberry Valley on a camping trip, John S. Lewis and Henry Gardner first thought of building the reservoir and a water transport system. Gardner, a Utah State Senator at the time, was aware of the dire water problem for Utah’s population centers along the Wasatch Front. The idea of the reservoir proved to be an effective solution. A few years later, in 1906, construction began on the Strawberry Valley Project. The resulting Strawberry Reservoir was completed less than a decade later.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Although water diverted from the Strawberry Reservoir helped Utah Valley farmers irrigate their crops, the creation of the reservoir was devastating to the Ute Indians in the area. For years, the tribe had experienced varied encroachments of tribal land by white farmers who violated the law in doing so. Farmers grazed their cattle in Strawberry Valley and used water that belonged to reservation lands. Such actions not only posed a threat to Ute resources, but represented a disregard for Ute legitimacy. Earlier offenses were magnified by the Strawberry Reservoir project. The project neglected to consult the Ute tribe on its construction. Among the consequences of the project, the reservoir opened reservation lands to future developments like mining and white settlements, solidifying the loss for the Ute tribe. </span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/652">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-09-15T21:17:15+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/652"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/652</id>
    <author>
      <name>Marvin Reed Hatch III, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Sugar Beets and Sheep: Hispanic Migrant Labor in Utah]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The migrant labor of Hispanics has been vital to the economy of Utah since the 20th century, but these workers remain one of the most vulnerable populations within the state, at one point making less than those on welfare. Their history here in Utah provides further context for current discussions on migrant labor and immigration. </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/75781beb5df04b5715e2f94497e033ce.jpg" alt="In the Field till Sundown" /><br/><p>In the beginning of the 20th century, Utah became one of the largest domestic American producers of sugar through sugar beet farming. The industry extended into neighboring states as well. The workers who planted and harvested those beets were mainly migrant Mexican and Mexican-American laborers. Migrant Hispanic laborers were also heavily involved with sheep herding and harvesting onions, potatoes, tomatoes, apples, cherries, pears, raspberries, and apricots. They made the backbone of the agricultural and meat industries in the state then and today, Latino workers (mainly of Mexican descent) continue to be vital to these industries. The history of Hispanic migrant labor in Utah demonstrates both their importance and their vulnerability that has persisted since the start of the 1900s. </p><p>Mexican migrant workers became integral to the economy of Utah starting in the early 20th century with the sugar industry, where many of the workers were concentrated in Garland, Utah. In 1918, reports from the Salt Lake Tribune detailed conditions of workers such as lack of running water, stoves, and toilets. Hispanic families nonetheless invested in the community by assisting in the construction of schools in Garland. Additionally, the wives of Hispanic families often worked for families nearby, further contributing to the economy’s function. Many of these migrant workers eventually left due to the lack of economic mobility and low wages, although others at the time incorrectly surmised that the workers’ departure was due to an inability to assimilate their Mexican-Catholic culture into the anglo-Mormon communities. </p><p>Poor conditions and treatment was a trend for migrant workers throughout the state. Accordingly, workers did not highly regard Utah. In the 1950s, Utah began an intense effort to attract more migrant workers. At the same time, the state created strict systems that would require those migrant workers to return to their country when the harvest was over. Despite these efforts to draw more workers to the state, many migrant workers did not return to Utah for a second harvest in response to continually poor conditions including lack of education opportunities for their children, poor housing situations, and no health care services. During that same decade, the Mexican Consulate in Salt Lake City officially reported that violations of the housing codes, unfair wages, and labor abuses were being experienced by migrant workers throughout Utah. In 1957 the state created the “Annual Worker Plan” to oversee migrant labor in Utah and prevent bad treatment. New regulations by the state also lessened the number of children being employed in the fields, a practice that had been prevalent since the 1920s. Hispanic groups formed other programs on behalf of migrant laborers. In 1969, due to internal lobbying by Hispanics in Utah and nationwide labor movements, the Utah government started an official program called the Utah Migrant Council on behalf of migrant laborers of all races and ethnicities. </p><p>Despite these efforts, Utah continues to struggle with attracting enough migrant workers. In 1986 a research team found that disease and illness were most prevalent among migrant workers in Utah. They face low birth weight, high rates of infant mortality, tuberculosis, and measles. In 2010, the Utah Migrant and Seasonal Farm Worker Coalition estimated that workers entering the state earned an annual income of $7,500 per year. Migrant workers constitute the most vulnerable population within the state—the middle men between economic prosperity and economic disparity for Utah and who have little opportunity for educational, economic, or social advancements in the state.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/640">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-09-08T22:51:01+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:14+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/640"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/640</id>
    <author>
      <name>Lindsey Meza, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Lake Lowell: Transforming Treasure Valley]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The Reclamation Act of June 17, 1902, aimed to create proper irrigation systems that could provide water access for residents of western states. Lake Lowell was one of those projects.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/8dafc9cce562e3302960bcf13f35ebe2.jpg" alt="Building up" /><br/><p>Under the direction of the 1902 Reclamation Act—congressional legislation intended to irrigate western states and provide greater access to water—the Bureau of Reclamation approved and developed Lake Lowell, starting in 1902 and finishing in 1909. Three dams—the Upper, Middle, and Lower Embankments (embankments are walls of earth or stone built to prevent a river from flooding an area)—surround a natural depression southwest of Nampa, Idaho to form the lake. A fourth wall, called the East Embankment, was added later to protect farmsteads on the eastern end of the reservoir.
In the irrigation off-season, the Boise River Diversion Dam and New York Canal provide most of Lake Lowell’s volume, discharging water intp the upper end of the lake, where there is a capacity ranging from 12.7 feet on the Middle Embankment to 65 feet on the Upper. During the irrigation season, Lake Lowell becomes one of the major irrigation providers for Canyon County agriculture. With the capacity to irrigate over 200,000 acres of land, it is one of the American West’s largest off-stream reservoirs.
As with many other western irrigation projects, Lake Lowell presented a significant opportunity for economic growth and restructured the relationship between people and their environment. Along with other government investment projects that opened the area to construction and farming, irrigation attracted migrants from the Midwest who worked as laborers to develop the dam and as farmers to till the land. In 1900, the census counted 161,772 people living in Idaho; by the 1920 census, the population had more than doubled to 431,866 people. This growth was sharpest in southwestern Idaho, which grew by 130% during this twenty-year period as agricultural and ex-urban communities transformed Treasure Valley into fertile land. Lake Lowell made that change possible.
In addition to serving local farms, towns, and cities, Lake Lowell also plays a role in how people and other living things interact with the region’s nature. The lake hosts the Deer Flat Reservoir, one of the oldest refuges in the National Wildlife Refuge System. As for humans in nature, Lake Lowell is a popular destination for numerous outdoor activities, including boating, swimming, fishing, birdwatching, hiking, and hunting.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/629">For more (including 5 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-06-30T21:27:42+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:13+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/629"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/629</id>
    <author>
      <name>Legna Roximar Morales, College of Idaho</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Hells Canyon Dam]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Straddling the Idaho–Oregon border and holding firm to the walls of Hells Canyon, the Hells Canyon Dam provides hydroelectric power and irrigation channels to surrounding localities. A creation of the Idaho Power Company, the concrete dam is one of three in the Hells Canyon Complex, the largest privately-owned hydroelectric power complex in the nation, whose motivations and consequences can be felt politically and ecologically.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/010642938f4450485d7ddd6aff0409f0.jpg" alt="Damming Hells Canyon" /><br/><p>The Hells Canyon Complex was controversial before even being built, ever since the Idaho public scrutinized the Idaho Power Company’s request to license three dams on the Snake River in 1947. During the New Deal era, public power—a method of energy administration defined in which communities owned infrastructure under local government—was the norm for hydroelectricity; while Idaho Power wanted to privately run three dams, advocates for public power in the region instead contended against Idaho Power in favor of establishing a single, high dam. After a long battle, private power won when the Federal Power Commission issued Idaho Power a license in 1955, allowing them to build a private hydroelectric complex, in turn signaling a decline of public power’s favor nationwide. Due to the Hells Canyon dam construction in the deepest gorge on the North American continent, the construction process proved difficult, and builders had to dig a twenty-three-mile access road into the Idaho side of the canyon. Along with the road, contractors set up offices, facilities, housing, and a mess hall for construction workers. In a matter of six months, the Hells Canyon Dam’s construction was complete in 1967, and it began generating electricity shortly after.
The political controversy in the postwar years about whether hydropower was something to be publicly or privately owned has roots deep in the ecological. The Hells Canyon Complex sits on the Snake River Basin, a desert ecosystem, while many of the models that public ownership advocates used were based on dams built on the Columbia River Basin, which was forested and mountainous. Because of the ecological differences inherent to these basins, people interacted differently with these water systems, and as a result, their priorities varied in what services a dam should provide. In the Columbia Basin, priority was given to energy production, while in the Snake Basin, priority was given to irrigation. This is largely due to the relationship people had with the land. In the Snake Basin, people cultivated the land for crop harvest, so they wanted the Hells Canyon Complex to have irrigation as its chief operating principle. This gave wind to Idaho Power’s licensing for the three Snake River dams; a single high dam would better serve power generation, but Idaho Power contended that the three-dam complex better served irrigation.
While ecology shaped Hells Canyon Dam, the dam also reshaped the environment. By its very design, the Hells Canyon Complex has no passage for andronomous fish species, a type of fish that migrates from freshwater to the ocean in the Snake and Columbia Rivers. Limiting certain fish species’ ability to access any of the upper Snake River Basin between the complex to Shoshone Falls has dramatically reduced the species’ population and disturbed several ecosystems. This can be traced back to the general neglect of biological research before the construction of dams along the Columbia and Snake Rivers.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/627">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-06-30T19:53:46+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:13+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/627"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/627</id>
    <author>
      <name>Hunter Marang, College of Idaho</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Hansen Dairy Farm: And the United (dis)Order]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The Hansen dairy farm represents the contributions immigrants made to territorial Utah history</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/e4e73e34c09b32aece6be8466d9fed87.jpg" alt="Hansen Dairy" /><br/><p>Christian Hansen was born January 15, 1820, in Skuldelove, Frederiksborg, Denmark. He served in the Danish military. Upon his return, he married Elizabeth Ericksen. In the year 1852, he was contacted by missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and he and Elizabeth were baptized and emigrated to Utah. While living in Brigham City, Utah, Church leaders asked Christian and Elizabeth to participate in a cooperative economic endeavor, the Brigham City Mercantile and Manufacturing Association. They accepted and, with Elizabeth’s knowledge of dairy farming, commenced a dairy operation.
Their dairy farm officially began operating in 1871, and a large stone building was constructed to house the farm. For the next ten years, the farm grew to employ over twenty-five local “milkmaids,” and by 1877 the Hansens produced over 50,000 lbs. of cheese a year. It formed one part of a larger, more significant whole, and was part of one of the only moderately successful Latter-day Saint community cooperatives of its time. By the year 1879, however, the cooperative system collapsed, and farm continued running in private hands for only a few years before it also fell into disarray. Thereafter, the Brigham City area transitioned to shepherding as the major local livelihood.
The Hansen’s farm remains important historically for the technology incorporated into the stone dairy building, the economic impact it had on Box Elder County, and the example it sets of the larger United Order movement in Utah. The building sported unique architecture which used a mountain stream to cool the floor of the building, making it possible to store milk while it was due for processing. The economic impact included employing many young people in the area, extra income for the cattle owners, and a strong department in the Brigham United Order.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/583">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-04-08T03:57:47+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:12+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/583"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/583</id>
    <author>
      <name>Ethan Leiter, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Thomas L. Martin Classroom Building (MARB)]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Although today it is notorious for its windowless walls and congested design, the MARB was once part of a commodious two-building complex for BYU’s life sciences. Its namesake is Thomas L. Martin, dean of BYU’s College of Applied Sciences in the early twentieth century.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/79cd9a96474fd910eae5833e94dbf3da.jpg" alt="The MARB" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">As enrollment for programs in BYU’s College of Biological and Agricultural Sciences swelled in the mid-1960s, the college was strapped for classrooms. Dean Rudger H. Walker called on the university to provide a new building designed with life science in mind, and the Board of Trustees drew up plans during the 1966 to 1967 academic year.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Around the same time, six BYU stakes reached out to the First Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints requesting that BYU design the new building to accommodate eight wards (original plans made the building large enough for four). In order to meet this request, BYU administration decided to split the planned building into two: one for laboratories and faculty offices, the other for lecture halls suitable for both classroom instruction and Sunday worship. Walkways at multiple levels connected the buildings. The laboratory building became the </span><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/571"><span style="font-weight:400;">Widtsoe Building</span></a><span style="font-weight:400;">, and the other was named the Thomas L. Martin Classroom Building.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The name was a happy triumph for Walker. Thomas L. Martin was an English immigrant and internationally-renowned agronomist, and he was an agricultural science professor at BYU from 1921 to 1958. During that period he also served for a time as dean of the College of Applied Sciences, later renamed the College of Agricultural and Biological Sciences, making him a predecessor to Walker. However, their connection was even more personal: Martin had taught Walker while at BYU, and Walker was Martin’s first student to enroll in a PhD program. In total, about 110 of Martin’s students went on to earn PhDs, for which the American Society of Agronomy cited him as “teacher of the year” in 1950.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Central Utah Architects designed the edifice, and BYU contracted Tolboe Construction for building. Tolboe began construction in July 1968 and finished in 1969.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Throughout the Martin Classroom Building’s three stories (one underground, two aboveground), there are about 40,000 square feet of floor, twenty-four lecture rooms, and enough seating for over 2,000 students. Because the university planned to use the building for science lectures with slide projections, the classrooms have no windows, ensuring sunlight never interferes with projection visibility.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">BYU remodeled the Martin Building in 2000, and in 2014 it added an elevator. (Previously, the only elevator access was through the Widtsoe, which BYU razed in 2015.)</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">In the twenty-first century, the Martin Classroom Building—typically nicknamed the MARB for its building code—hosts classes in many subjects, not just life science. Unfortunately, the MARB is not as beloved as its namesake was. Students often lament the windowless rooms, originally designed as a feature, for being dispiriting. And without the old walkways into the Widtsoe Building, the MARB’s single stairwell is frequently crowded. A satirical website declared the MARB one of the “BYU buildings no one cares about” and suggested “the highest priority” for any campus improvement should “be to fix the MARB so it is not absolutely terrible to get in and out” by adding “entrances for each level,” unwittingly hearkening back to the days when the Martin Classroom Building </span><i><span style="font-weight:400;">did</span></i><span style="font-weight:400;"> have exits at multiple levels into the Widtsoe Building.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Students may not appreciate the MARB as much as their forebears admired Dr. Martin, but with so many lectures assigned to his Classroom Building, it will continue affecting their lives.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/572">For more (including 10 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-02-27T09:50:40+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:12+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/572"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/572</id>
    <author>
      <name>Makoto Hunter, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[John A. Widtsoe Life Sciences Laboratory Building (WIDB)]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Named for the famous apostle-scientist, the John A. Widtsoe Building provided much-needed laboratory and office space for BYU’s life science programs for forty years.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/c7140dc1efc9eba0e61ff169ec35ed99.jpg" alt="The Widtsoe Building" /><br/><p><span style="font-weight:400;">In the 1960s, BYU’s life sciences were flourishing as enrollment rose. However, with so many students, the College of Biological and Agricultural Sciences was hard-pressed for sufficient classroom space. Life science coursework required both lectures and hands-on labs, but most BYU classrooms at the time had not been designed with laboratory use in mind. As Ephraim Hatch explains in his </span><i><span style="font-weight:400;">Brigham Young University: A Pictorial History</span></i><span style="font-weight:400;">, “practically all [BYU] laboratories [at the time] were remodeled spaces originally built for other purposes.” Students and faculty called for a new building to accommodate the growing program, and Dean Rudger H. Walker was especially vocal. After deliberations, BYU administrators decided to build two new buildings: <a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/572">one for classrooms</a> and another for laboratories and faculty offices.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Administration dubbed the latter the John A. Widtsoe Life Sciences Laboratory Building, naming it after the Norwegian immigrant, agricultural scientist, and apostle of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As a scientist, Widtsoe had been famous for innovations in dry farming; the International Dry-Farming Congress elected him as their president in 1912. Among Latter-day Saints and BYU’s community, Elder Widtsoe was beloved for his conviction in the harmony of science and religion as complementary means for learning truth. Widtsoe was also a BYU educator, having founded the agricultural science program in the early 1900s.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Building the Widtsoe Life Sciences Laboratory Building (later called the Widtsoe Building) was a significant endeavor. Sam Brewster and Ephraim Hatch of BYU’s Physical Plant Department prepared a building program describing every room needed for the building, and members of a building committee traveled to study laboratory buildings at twelve different universities, compiling their findings in a trip report. BYU hired Utah Central Architects to design the building and contracted Tolboe Construction Company to build it.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">Tolboe began construction in 1968 and finished in 1970. The resulting building was a nine-story tower (two floors underground; the rest above) spanning over 180,000 square feet of floor. Faculty offices and general laboratories filled much of the structure, but it also housed an electron microscope, animals for experimentation and study, and aquaria (both fresh and saltwater) in the basement.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The Widtsoe Building became, in the words of BYU’s </span><i><span style="font-weight:400;">University Communications</span></i><span style="font-weight:400;">, a “campus icon.” However, as time passed, the building aged and societal safety standards expanded. In 2011, BYU announced plans to replace the Widtsoe with a new Life Science Building and raze the Widtsoe following the new structure’s completion. Administrators considered the Widtsoe Building too old: walls contained asbestos, old lights had mercury, and the building lacked modern earthquake-proofing. At a deeper level, despite Widtsoe’s life as an educator, the building did not suit modern pedagogies emphasizing mentorship and collaboration. Dean James Porter of the College of Life Sciences (successor to the College of Biological and Agricultural Sciences) said, </span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The Widtsoe Building was not designed with a lot of space for student interactions or collaborations… [in] the new Life Sciences Building, there’s lots of couches, chairs and whiteboards and you’ll see students sitting around doing homework, studying, talking together—there’s nothing like that in the Widtsoe Building.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The Life Sciences Building was completed in 2014, and the Widtsoe came down in 2015. During the spring, Oakland Construction spent over a month removing hazardous substances like asbestos and mercury. Then, starting on May 21, Okland spent two weeks tearing down the Widtsoe and gathering its scrap for sorting, since they estimated about 70% could be recycled.</span>
<span style="font-weight:400;">The Widtsoe’s former place has been landscaped to provide a clear line of sight to the new Life Sciences Building, the College of Life Sciences’ home ever since.</span></p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/571">For more (including 9 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2022-02-27T09:17:16+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:12+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/571"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/571</id>
    <author>
      <name>Makoto Hunter, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Life at “the Murtaugh Place” and Longing for Adventure]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Coming from humble origins, and yet possessing the sophistication, intelligence, and charisma of mavericks, Glen and Bessie Hyde were determined to break the shackles which tied them down to a normal life.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/2af9bc5d4ea3afd3566b7d4026ce2f4e.jpg" alt="Murtaugh Place" /><br/><p>Glen Hyde and Bessie Haley met on a ship steaming from San Francisco to Los Angles in the early summer of 1927, and it was clear to their friends and family that the two were immediately attracted to one another. Glen and Bessie were both intelligent, cultured, and outgoing, and they had the makings of the ultimate power couple. After divorcing her first husband in early April 1928, Bessie immediately married Glen. The newly wedded couple then settled into life at Glen's home near the town of Murtaugh in Twin Falls County, Idaho.
Acquired by the Hydes in the early 1910s, “the Murtaugh Place” was a small parcel of land located fifteen miles east of the family's farm, “the Home Place,” in Kimberly, Idaho. Glen's father, Rollin Hyde, had bought it to expand his farming enterprises. After dropping out of college for the final time in 1923, Glen came to live in the small shack he and Rollin built on the property, dividing his workdays between the Murtaugh Place and the Home Place. In the spring and summer, Glen and Rollin grew crops on both properties to sell in Kimberly, while in the winter, they raised sheep and sold their wool when spring came. When he wasn't working, Glen enjoyed activities like playing tennis on the court he had built at the Home Place, or swimming in the local irrigation canals or in the nearby Snake River. Yet, Glen was never satisfied with his life at the Murtaugh Place. The young man craved adventure.
Glen's new wife shared his ambition. Bessie was accustomed to the bustling and exciting nature of life in the city, having spent much of her early adulthood studying art in San Francisco. Life at the Murtaugh Place was comparatively dull and uneventful, as daily life was largely based on the regular routines of farm work. Though she learned to ride a horse, got a dog, and reportedly worked as hard as her husband, it was clear to friends and family that Bessie, along with Glen, desired a lifestyle that their existence at the Murtaugh Place could not provide. A “normal” life on the farm wasn't for them.
For Glen and Bessie, the means to escape the monotony of the Murtaugh Place came in the form of their upcoming honeymoon, a trip down the Colorado River. By choosing such an undertaking, the couple sought to emulate the fantastical stories of exploration and daring feats reported on the front pages of popular tabloids. If successful, Bessie would have been the first woman to travel the entire length of the nearly 600-mile-long river, a feat that the couple could use to gain further fame for themselves. In essence, their honeymoon was a ticket out of their boring lives at the Murtaugh Place.
After Glen and Bessie disappeared, the Hyde family continued to operate the Murtaugh Place for several more years. At present, it seems as though nothing remains of the shack Glen and Bessie lived in.   </p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/520">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2021-10-16T06:54:47+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:11+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/520"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/520</id>
    <author>
      <name>William Knapp, Northern Arizona University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[The Kennedy Ditch<br />
]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The Kennedy Ditch was an irrigation ditch named after its first watermaster, Charles Kennedy, who was one of the earliest pioneers settling in Utah. Dug in the early 1850’s by several families living in the vicinity, including the Kennedy’s, for many years it served as an important water source for several blocks in Salt Lake City. </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/3ab62c33096f1d1a132d1dad298b8e03.jpg" alt="Kennedy Ditch Plaque" /><br/><p>For the first pioneers arrived in Utah in 1848 creating a settlement in the Salt Lake Valley was a daunting task. One of the biggest problems they faced was a severe shortage of water sources which greatly limited the agricultural potential of the area. To overcome this limitation, the settlers worked together to dig irrigation ditches and created a system of water rights that was unlike that of anywhere else in the continent.</p><p>The Kennedy Ditch was one of these innovative irrigation canals. It was created as a cooperative work project among the settlers and was taken out of a stream in Parley’s Canyon, near the street 17th East. It helped to irrigate and bring under cultivation 864 acres of farmland in the Salt Lake settlement, which extended west from the street 13th East and North from 21st South to 9th South.</p><p>The Kennedy Ditch was named after its first watermaster, Charles Kennedy. Kennedy was part of the first wave of pioneers who arrived in the valley in 1848. His life demonstrates many of the peculiarities of the lives of the Latter Day Saints of this time, particularly the unique community organization, and both the successes and failures of living in this way.</p><p>The highly structured community organization of the Latter-day Saint pioneers is a large part of what allowed them to flourish in the inhospitable Utah environment. Nowhere is this more clear than in the unique system of water rights and distribution that they established. Charles Kennedy played a role in this early organization, and he and the Kennedy Ditch provide a microcosm of the work, triumphs, and failures that went into the establishment of the Latter Day Saint society in Utah.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/434">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2020-10-14T05:31:15+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:08+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/434"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/434</id>
    <author>
      <name>Emma Burns, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Washakie Township: The Mormon Alternative to Fort Hall]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Ninety miles south of Fort Hall, the Washakie Township represented an alternative to reservation life. Following the conversion of over 100 Shoshones to Mormonism, Washakie was founded by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1880. Here, the Northwestern Band of Shoshone made their home as ranchers and farmers until the 1960s. Today, Washakie is a ghost town owned by an energy company.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/8b325daaf094746edcec1fae096ab1d2.jpg" alt="[Untitled]" /><br/><p>They were among the only survivors: Chief Sagwitch and his Northwestern Band of Shoshone were destitute and hopeless after three quarters of their tribe were murdered in the 1863 Bear River Massacre. One decade later, Sagwitch made peace with the occupiers of his homeland by joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through the help of the LDS church, the Shoshone began a homestead community away from Fort Hall where they felt they would be free to practice their new religion.</p><p>For the next eighty years, hundreds of Shoshone made their homes in Washakie. At its pinnacle in the 1920s, more than 300 worked there as farmers and ranchers. At first, they relied on subsistence agriculture, which they supplemented with deer meat. As their land base grew, the Northwestern Band began selling excess crops of wheat and potatoes to the LDS Church. Additionally, they raised purebred cattle and sheep, which they sold at premium prices in the local market.</p><p>After 1900, very few of the Northwestern Band of Shoshone returned to Fort Hall except for larger intertribal Shoshone gatherings, especially basketball games. At Washakie, they were allowed to speak Shoshone and perform traditional ceremonies—which the US government wanted to eliminate. The local grade school—established and maintained by the LDS Church—taught the students to speak, read, and write English but did not discourage the exploration of Shoshone culture. After elementary school, most students attended nearby high schools and a remarkably high percentage also attended college. </p><p>By World War II, Washakie was a relatively successful agricultural experiment, but the inhabitants still lived without electricity in small shacks and tents. Seeking better economic opportunities, many found employment at the nearby Hill Airforce Base. Drawn away by the allure of steady pay and higher education, few young people stayed in Washakie, and its population dwindled until the land was sold in the 1970s.       </p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/206">For more (including 6 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2018-06-08T03:24:07+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:02+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/206"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/206</id>
    <author>
      <name>Natalie Larsen, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[Ranching and Success on Fort Hall: The Indian Stockmen’s Association<br />
]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>During the 1910s, conflict and failure demarcated the relationship between the Shoshone-Bannock of Fort Hall and the federal government. To protest the government’s discriminatory policies and lack of economic opportunity, the successful Indian Stockmen’s Association was founded in 1920.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/4f9bf5bea0ec4b2194f39b77ef6d21ff.jpg" alt="[Untitled]" /><br/><p>From the creation of the Fort Hall Indian Reservation until the 1934 Indian Reorganization Act, the reservation was controlled by the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA). Without clearly understanding the cultural and physical needs of the Shoshone-Bannock, the BIA and on-site agents often made decisions that conflicted with local values and harmed the general welfare. For example, horses symbolized power, mobility, and strength to the Shoshone-Bannocks, who required at least ten steers as payment for just one horse. To the government, the horses were just obstacles in the way of progress. The final straw was in September 1920, when government agents quietly rounded up 1,200 horses and sold them for less than $6 apiece—to be turned into chicken feed.</p><p>Meanwhile, individual ranchers were successfully circumventing the reservation bureaucracy by communally sharing allotment lands for cattle grazing. In 1917, Thomas LeSieur, a Cherokee married to a Shoshone woman, sold his cattle for $8.45 a head, the highest price for range beef cattle in Idaho that year. Others on the reservation had also realized the economic potential cattle provided, especially Ralph Dixey and Pat Tyhee, both Shoshones.  Dixey stated in 1917, “This is a cattle country; my people here are stock raisers.” Land-use policies under previous Indian agents gave preference to non-Native ranchers with the pretext that their herds were more profitable. Outraged by discriminatory policies, the loss of their horses, and the general poverty of the reservation, Dixey and Tyhee joined with other Shoshone-Bannock ranchers to form the Fort Hall Indian Stockmen’s Association (ISA) in 1921. The organization’s objectives were to protect the reservation range land, to raise better cattle and horses, to make the herds self-sustaining, to build a sales yard at Fort Hall, and to foment cooperation with white neighbors.</p><p>By the end of 1921, the ISA had about 5,000 head of cattle on the reservation. Local newspapers and ranchers were amazed by the quality of the herds. The ISA became so successful that the herdsmen built stock yards and feeders to expand the scope of their operation. Buyers came from as far away as Los Angeles to look at the cattle, but the ISA was insistent that the cattle first be sold locally. Partially, this goal would help offset costs, but it was also a useful tool to build bridges between Shoshone-Bannock ranchers and their non-Native neighbors. The cattle operation turned out to be a popular and very profitable experiment for many decades afterward and was subsequently copied by several other Native American groups in the west.</p><p>The Indian Cattlemen’s Association continued to be a powerful player in tribal economics and politics throughout the twentieth century, but today the ISA has been superseded by Shoshone-Bannock Tribal Enterprises.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/205">For more (including 3 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2018-06-08T03:06:17+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:02+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/205"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/205</id>
    <author>
      <name>Natalie Larsen, Brigham Young University</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[The Spalding Mission]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>Henry and Eliza Spalding established a mission near the South Bank of the Clearwater River at the mouth of Lapwai Creek for the Nez Perce tribe in 1836 to educate and convert Native Americans to Christianity. </em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/c07903b50c18b321736451830cb4693a.jpg" alt="Spalding Mission" /><br/><p>During the mid-nineteenth century, missionaries set out to spread Christianity and educate Native American tribes in the Pacific Northwest. Henry and Eliza Spalding set out with Narcissa and Marcus Whitman in February 1836 from New York to preach to Native American tribes. Twelve or fifteen members of the Nez Perce Tribe greeted them in July and “received them gladly,” according to a letter published by Henry Spalding. The Nez Perce tribe gifted them horses and cared for the missionaries until the Spaldings and Whitmans parted ways in October 1836. The Spaldings stayed with the Nez Perce tribe to settle in the Lapwai Valley, becoming the first Christian missionaries among the Nez Perce. </p><p>The Spaldings began educating the Nez Perce in the English language and Christianity in January 1837. The next year they moved their mission to the current site near Lapwai Creek to take advantage of cooler weather. When they moved locations, the Spaldings taught the Nez Perce agricultural practices, requiring the Nez Perce to stay in one place year-round rather than migrating with the changing seasons. They planted potatoes, vegetables, grains, and fruit trees to support humans as well as livestock and fowl. To make life convenient, a sawmill and gristmill was built in 1838 and was in operation for ten years, bringing irrigation to the area and Idaho for the first time with a mill race and canals tied to the mill complex. Unfortunately, this was destroyed in 1879 when Lapwai Creek flooded and washed away the sawmill and gristmill, as well as damaged the mill race, roads, bridges, and farms. The flood also caused Lapwai Creek to be permanently rerouted to its current location. </p><p>While the Spaldings resided in the mission, they expanded the original site from a modest home to include a church, school, printing house, and living space for the Nez Perce. An 1843 letter written by Henry Spalding to Levi Chamberlain in Honolulu described the success of the school and church, stating the missionaries had over 200 people in attendance daily, with half of the school consisting of adults. </p><p>The Spaldings moved from the Lapwai mission in the fall of 1848 to Oregon, but Henry Spalding returned to Lapwai in 1871. During his time in Lapwai, he received 931 Nez Perce and Spokane members into the church, as reported by Spalding in the record book of the church in November 1873. He remained there until his death from sickness in 1874. </p><p>The Spalding house stood until around 1900. Only the fireplaces and irrigation ditches of the original Spalding home remain today. The Spalding site was commemorated in 1923 by the Daughters of the American Revolution with an iron fence erected around the foundation of the Spalding home site in 1935. Today the area is home to Nez Perce Historical Park where visitors may view the Spalding Presbyterian Church, the Northern Idaho Indian Agency’s cabin and agent’s residence, remnants of the Spalding Mission, and Lapwai Mission cemetery where Henry and Eliza Spalding are buried. </p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/169">For more view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2018-05-15T00:54:57+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:02+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/169"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/169</id>
    <author>
      <name>Saraya Flaig, University of Idaho</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <title type="html"><![CDATA[The 21 Ranch]]></title>
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p><strong><em>The 21 Ranch is a local icon in Nez Perce County, Idaho. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, this property continues to be the object of public fascination and interest.</em></strong></p><img src="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/files/fullsize/6635b11c3cf4693ad16ef9091a722d28.jpg" alt="Blast from the Past" /><br/><p>In 1820, Joseph Shissler and John Siers purchased the first one hundred and sixty acres of what was to become the 21 Ranch. Originally a squatter’s claim on the land of the Nez Perce Tribe, or Nimi'ipuu, the property now borders the reservation’s boundaries as outlined in the 1855 Treaty. The property’s location twenty-one miles outside of Lewiston in Waha earned the ranch its namesake. In the 1860s, after gold was discovered, demands for permanent settlements in the Lewiston area increased. In 1862 the U.S. government approved “to secure Homesteads to actual Settlers on the Public Domain,” for Shissler and Siers according to documentation from the U.S. Department of the Interior, sanctioning their claim. While little documentation survived detailing the relationship between the ranch and the reservation, records reveal a dispute over water rights on Lapwai Creek wherein the Supreme Court ruled the Nez Perce Tribe had senior rights. </p><p>The Waha area was a popular summer retreat in the late 19th century and many residents passed the 21 Ranch as they escaped the Lewiston heat. Owner Frank Ward built a house on the ranch in 1891, regarded as a handsome example of Victorian style architecture.  A subsequent owner, Alvin McCormack, added the house to the list of National Register of Historic Places in 1977. He claimed on the application, “The 21 Ranch house is architecturally significant as one of the most pretentious ranch houses in Idaho… The house is clearly visible for many miles, making it a local landmark.” Touted as a successful agricultural operation, the local newspaper praised its model fruit farming practices and the ranch’s purchase of the most modern power sprayer in the early 1900s. The 21 Ranch’s reputation for innovative farming techniques kept it in the public eye for decades, as did the ranch’s reputation for potentially criminal activities.</p><p>The ranch gained notoriety when a shootout occurred in front of the barn on May 19, 1895 leaving two dead. John Siers, one of the original purchasers and a veteran of the Mexican War, died in the altercation. It developed as a dispute over property with a neighbor, Mrs. Goddard. She and her son ambushed Siers and Mrs. Goddard shot him in the back. The newspapers called the murders a tragedy for Lewiston and reported shock at Mrs. Goddard’s acquittal. The ranch went on to garner even more attention over the twentieth century, with rumors of the notorious Plummer Gang’s buried treasure featuring heavily in real estate advertisements. In 1997, the ranch made headlines again when, a woman mysteriously disappeared from Lewiston on December 1, leaving behind traces of blood in her kitchen. Authorities found her the next day in a trailer on the 21 Ranch with no signs of distress. </p><p>An architectural and agricultural marvel and a place of sensationalized violence, the ranch continues to attract local attention. Like so many places in the American West, the 21 Ranch demonstrates the intertwined histories of domesticating the land and participating in violent encounters, keeping this spot in the public gaze for over a century.</p><p><em><strong><a href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/142">For more (including 4 images) view the original article</a></strong></em></p>]]></summary>
    <published>2018-02-06T21:51:35+00:00</published>
    <updated>2026-04-17T19:32:01+00:00</updated>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/142"/>
    <id>https://www.intermountainhistories.org/items/show/142</id>
    <author>
      <name>Brittany Harrington, University of Idaho</name>
    </author>
  </entry>
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