Getting Acquainted with Weiser

July 30, 2022 steveboilard1 Comment

Did someone say “Getting Acquainted with Weezy?”

Have you ever had one of those days were everything works out perfectly?

Me neither. But today came pretty close. At the end of this blog post I will reveal why.

I left my cheap motel room in Ontario, Oregon, crossed the Snake River, and before you could sing the first stanza of “Here We Have Idaho” (which we all know is Idaho’s official state song), I was in Weiser.

At the visitor center. Evidently their “great respect for and interest in education” didn’t extend to proper use of apostrophes.

But more important than punctuation, Weiser has done an impressive job of preserving historic structures. The downtown in particular has dozens of well-maintained, functioning buildings that my Grandma must have walked past or even visited. These include the following:

The Odd Fellows building. It was constructed before 1903 (for the town newspaper dated November 25, 1903, mentions a social held there. “It was one of the pleasantest social events of the season.”

In the cafe on the building’s first floor I had a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll the size of a small watermelon. I asked the barista about the building’s history but she said she’s new in town and didn’t know much about it. It turns out she’s from Sacramento–pretty much where I’d just driven from.

Danika–a fellow Sacramento-area transplant, now relocated to Weiser.

2. The Star Theater. It moved to its current location in 1917 (when Grandma was six). It was a vaudeville house that also showed silent movies. Today it is used for live theater productions and other events. It looks like it’s been extensively modified since 1917. I wished I could have peeked inside.

Surely Grandma must have seen a show here. In her memoir she admits to an affection for vaudeville.

3. The Red Store. One of the oldest buildings in Weiser, The Red Store dates back before the turn of the 20th century. I couldn’t find an exact date of construction, but the old signage on the west side of the building (left untouched by the owners, who’ve otherwise repainted the building) appears to be late-19th century.

4. Knights of Pythias Lodge. In her memoir Grandma writes that her father (aka my Great Grandfather Burley) “occasionally went to a card game at the Woodmen of the World Lodge, which he had joined in order to qualify for their life insurance.” I couldn’t find any evidence of the Woodmen lodge in Weiser, but I did find this very cool old lodge building from the Knights of Pythias. The building was constructed in 1904 and sits prominently on the main drag, so doubtless it was familiar to Grandma.

The Knights of Pythias (KOP) was founded as a fraternal order during the Civil War. Like many fraternal organizations, its purpose was primarily to provide assistance to its members and their families when serious illness, death, or some other crisis befell them. It’s not unlike Great-Grandpa Burley’s joining the Woodmen of the World to get life insurance. Also like many other fraternal organizations, the KOP was a secret society that was steeped in rituals borrowed from foreign cultures.

The Weiser chapter of the KOP closed in the middle of the 20th Century, and parts of the building have been used primarily for storage since that time. Then, a few years ago, some boxes were discovered that contained costumes and props for the KOP ceremonies. Some of these are now on display in the regional museum. I took a few pictures of them:

From an era when cultural appropriation wasn’t frowned upon.

This must have been a fun part of the initiation ceremony…

The Knights of Pythias still exists as a fraternal organization, though its numbers have dwindled. Sen. Chuck Schumer is a member. I’m not making this up.

5. Weiser Depot. Weiser lobbied for the Union Pacific to bring its mainline to their town. But they only got a shortline. Still, the UP built them this beautiful Queen Anne-style depot in 1907. In her memoir Grandma talks about taking various train trips, but I don’t know if she ever boarded at this particular depot. Still, she must have had occasion to visit it. Some years ago trains stopped stopping (can I say that?) in Weiser, and the station closed. It’s been restored and for awhile it was a museum, but when I saw it today it was empty.

Trains still come by on the tracks, but they don’t stop at the station.

Handbill at the regional museum. Is the illustration mocking “Mr. Weiser Citizen”?

6. Clausen’s Hardware Building. I couldn’t find when this was built, but surely Grandma must have seen it. This became an ACE hardware store in the middle of the last century, but it recently closed.

The brown paper on the windows suggests there’s something brewing.

7. Site of the Wheaton Theater. In her memoir, Grandma writes that she and other schoolchildren sang “in the town hall, which, apparently anticipating events that never materialized, the town fathers had given the name of Opera House. Actually it was nothing more than a hole in the wall.” The only building that had been described as an opera house (that I could find) was the Wheaton Theater, which was constructed in 1908 and was destroyed by fire in 1937.

Today, the People’s Furniture building occupies what is said to be part of the site that was once the Wheaton. Looking at the picture, I’m guessing that People’s combines the old Haas Building (from 1909) and the old Wheaton Building.

For some reason, that ugly siding was all the rage in the 1950s and 1960s.

This is the alley side of the People’s building. Are those bricked-up arched spaces the windows that appear in the historic Wheaton Theater photo above?

8. Site of the First National Bank of Weiser. In her memoir, Grandma writes that her father (my great-grandpa Burley) had a sometimes-stressful job with the local bank, and that her mother “took her position as wife of a bank officer very seriously and felt she must live up to it.” However, the 1915 City Directory identifies Great-Grandpa Burley as being an “Asst Cashier First National Bank.” I wouldn’t think to call that a “bank officer.” But evidently the whole family felt Great-Grandpa had a high level of responsibility.

Sadly, the First National Bank of Weiser no longer stands. In its place there is a vacant lot, next to which stands a new(ish) Zions Bank. None of the staff at Zions could tell me anything about the old First National Bank.

The vacant space which used to be Great Grandpa’s bank. Grandma one visited him there after falling into a vat of chocolate. I’m not making this up.

9. The Intermountain Institute. Although Grandma probably never was on the campus, the Intermountain Institute was a boarding school whose extant buildings date back to 1907–a few years before Grandma was born. The Institute closed after Weiser constructed a public high school in the mid-twentieth century. Today, one of the Institute’s main buildings (Hooker Hall) is home to the Snake River Heritage Center, which has historical artifacts and exhibits related to Weiser and the surrounding area. It’s at this Heritage Center that I saw the Knights of Pythias regalia.

10. Grandma’s Childhood Home. Weiser’s 1915 City Directory lists Great Grandpa Burley’s address as 931 West 3rd Street. Now, Grandma writes “Our first home was close to downtown, and Papa’s job at the bank was only a few minutes away. But in Papa’s eyes the pasture on the other side of the fence was always greener, and so we moved often.” So it’s not clear how long they lived in this house; I only know they were there in 1915.

So today I drove out to West 3rd street, and the house is still standing!

Part of the back yard. It’s not clear to me whether the shop/garage building was there in Grandma’s day.

As luck would have it, just as I arrived a woman was parking her car in front of Grandma’s old house. And it turns out she’s the current owner! Stephanie (for that is her name) and her husband bought the house about six years ago, and they’ve made some considerable repairs and improvements.

Stephanie, holding a copy of Grandma’s Memoir.

Their work to the house includes some sheetrocking of walls, moving a bathroom, and converting the attic space to bedrooms. But still there is plenty of the original house that Grandma would surely recognize. And how do I know this? Because Stephanie, bless her, invited me in and showed me around. I was literally walking in Grandma’s footsteps.

Original kitchen pantry. Grandma’s oatmeal (or whatever she ate for breakfast) would have been stored here.

Original lath and plaster wall, exposed from remodeling work. Stephanie reports that she found grandma-era newspapers in the walls, perhaps being used for insulation.

In her memoir Grandma writes of occasionally sleeping in screened porches. Could this be one of them?

The living room, where Grandma lovingly describes the family Christmas celebrations.

So that’s why I opened this blog post with remarks about the day going to well. I came to Weiser to learn more about my Grandmother. And while I didn’t learn a lot of new facts, what I already knew somehow gelled became textured as a result of spending some time in her childhood home and walking the streets of her town.

And so, feeling satisfied, it was time for me to hop on la machine and head back toward Placerville…which, as it turns out, is the hometown of Stephanie’s husband. Small world, isn’t it?

(Tomorrow I’ll share other photos and remarks from the 1000-mile round trip to Weiser.)

Road trips

Homeward Bound

July 28, 2022 steveboilard1 Comment

By way of background for this latest trip I’m about to relate, allow me to quote the back cover blurb from a recently-published memoir:

“Ruth Gibson (née Burley) lived through almost all of the twentieth century. A prolific writer with much to say, she spent her later years typing out her memoir on an old Remington typewriter. Sadly, she died before she could have it published. … Ruth’s memoir describes her childhood in prewar, small-town America, coming of age during the Depression, her contributions to the American war effort during World War II, and finding and losing love. She offers timeless insights about perseverance, human relationships, and the importance of family. Told with heartfelt candor and gentle humor, it is a moving story about life in twentieth century America.”

Ruth Gibson was my paternal grandmother, and her memoir has finally been published, posthumously. If this kind of story intrigues you, copies are available on Amazon. (The Kindle version is practically free!)

Coming up with innovative titles is not my strong suit.

I spent much of the past year editing Grandma’s memoir, and in the process became increasingly curious about her life. The first third of her memoir focuses on her childhood in Weiser, Idaho (pop: 5,600). Weiser was (and remains) a farming community along the Snake River, which marks Idaho’s boundary with Oregon.

Now, alert readers may recall that I’d visited the childhood home of my paternal grandfather (i.e. Grandma’s one-time husband) when I was in upstate New York a couple of months ago, on my storied US Route 2 trip. I never met him, since he’d left Grandma before Dad was even born. But it was good to see his old stomping grounds. Wouldn’t it make a nice bookend to also visit Grandma’s childhood home? Helpfully, my Uncle Edward provided me with a 1915 city directory that lists the address of Grandma’s house in Weiser, as well as the bank where her father worked. I also discovered that Weiser has a good historical museum, and a research library with many historic archives.

So I decided to make the short 559-mile drive from my home near Placerville to Weiser. On a motorcycle. In 100-degree heat. What could go wrong?

This morning found me crossing the Sierra on Interstate 80. As you may know, I-80 largely follows the old Lincoln Highway, which was the first transcontinental automobile route in the US. The Lincoln Highway opened in 1913, and its alignments changed repeatedly over the years. Today very little of the original Lincoln Highway remains. But I did manage to find this isolated segment this morning, in the shadow of I-80 west of Donner Pass.

Once over the Sierra, I dropped into the so-called “Great Basin” of Nevada. Now, I hate to be a naysayer, but the Great Basin really ain’t that great. It’s hot, dusty, and desolate. Mile after mile and mile I traveled, with very little in the way of roadside diversions to break up the monotony. Eventually I came to the town of Winnemucca (pop: 7,800), where I procured my Beer of the Day. (See details below.) Once suitably refreshed, I got back on the Triumph and headed north of US 95. I’d only completed about half the trip.

I took the blue-colored route. Will likely take the longer, western route for my return.

I didn’t quite make it to Weiser today. I’ve stopped for the night in Ontario, Oregon (pop: 12,000). Tomorrow I’ll make the 25-minute drive back over the border to Weiser, Idaho. Until then.

BREW OF THE DAY

In Winnemucca I found a promising establishment called Brew 95. When I entered it looked like a typical hipster coffee shop. Once I caught the attention of the barista who was carefully studying her iphone, I told her I was looking for an alcoholic brew, not a caffeinated one. Did I come to the wrong place? “We also have beer,” said she, not looking up. “But we’re out of it today.” I thanked her and left, still not certain whether she was pulling my leg or not.
Next I tried a place on the main drag with the propitious (if obvious) name of Cheers. Unlike Ted Danson’s place, this Cheers was dark and smoky. Six people sat at the long, worn bar. Their average age looked to be about 78 (it would have been higher, but for the young, tattooed gal of 47 that the other patrons were flirting with). For some reason this woman had three opened, family-size bags of chips in front of her: Fritos, Munchies, Tostitos. The placed smelled of stale smoke, and years of nicotine had taken its toll on the yellowed wallpaper. But all was not lost; I spied a couple of taps from Great Basin Brewing Co in Reno.

I opted for the Outlaw milk Stout. The color was a rich, dark brown that reminded me of espresso. And in fact it had a strong coffee flavor.

The secret code on the green paper is the wifi password.

The mouthfeel was exceptionally smooth. Despite the color, this was not a heavy stout. It’s not boozy either, with just 5 percent ABV. The coffee taste was malty and sweet, with hints of vanilla extract and chocolate shavings. It’s lightly hopped, with very little bitterness. My only complaint is that there wasn’t enough foam on the head. But this beer went down very easy indeed. If I weren’t getting back on the road, I would have had a second one. Four and half stars.

California history · trains

Sacramento’s Ghostly Cathedrals

July 23, 2022 steveboilard4 Comments

I like to think of Sacramento as a railroad town. Though it’s the capital of California and a thoroughly modern city of over a half-million residents, it owes much of its success to its location as the western terminus of the first transcontinental railroad (and, of course, its proximity to the Sierra foothills during the Gold Rush). Founded in 1850, Sacramento was the headquarters of the Central Pacific Railroad, which in 1863 began laying track from what is today Old Sacramento toward Promentory Point, Utah, where it connected with the Union Pacific’s tracks.

The Central Pacific (which later became the Southern Pacific) centered most of its locomotive-building and repair operations just north of downtown, on a reclaimed swamp that was formerly called China Slough. Buildings were erected starting in the 1860s, and they eventually became a sprawling complex that employed tens of thousands of workers. It would remain a major part of Sacramento’s industrial landscape until the late 1990s (!), when new owners of the railroad consolidated operations elsewhere and shut down the Sacramento shops.

Celebrating the first of a new class of locomotive at the Shops in 1925. Some of the shops buildings are in the background.

Now, here’s the intriguing part: While so many of Sacramento’s historic sites have been razed (I’m looking at you, Alhambra Theater), a number of the Central Pacific shop buildings are still standing–even a couple of the ones that date back to the mid-to-late 19th century. And not only are they still standing, but they look very much as they did for much of the 150-year history. What’s more, they’re once again being used to work on vintage railroad equipment. (More on this in a moment.) There’s something reassuring about knowing that these pieces of Sacramento–and US–history are still with us, tangible reminders of an ancient but formative past of iron and steam, standing in the shadow of Interstate 5 and just a short distance from the dubious modernity of the Emerald City Building and Golden 1 Center.

Unlikely to be standing–or missed–150 years from now.

The reason I mention all this is because I had the rare opportunity to tour the Shops this morning, guided by the doughty docents of the California State Railroad Museum (CSRM). For it turns out that one of the historic shop buildings (the Boiler Shop) is now owned by CSRM, and a second (the Erecting Shop) (insert middle-aged male joke here) is being leased by CSRM with an option to buy. The CSRM uses these buildings to store and service locomotives and other equipment in their collection. The number of employees working in the shops today can be counted on one hand, but the legacy nonetheless continues.

Now, there are three things I want to emphasize about the Shops. First, these are cavernous spaces, sometimes metaphorically called “cathedrals” in honor of their high ceilings, majestic architecture, and sacred purpose (I made that last one up).

Second, the CSRM has filled much of the space with locomotives and other rolling stock from its extensive collection. These are not currently on display for the general public (though they sometimes find their way into the main CSRM museum building). But the CSRM receives many donations for which it’s not yet ready to restore and display, so they find their way here.

The “Daylight” paint scheme is always a crowd pleaser.

The CSRM has acquired a number of wood-constructed cars, which understandably don’t weather the years very well.

Record-breaker from 1905. Read the story here.

Third, the shops harbor a number of artifacts that really don’t fit neatly into any category, and as such will probably never be part of a museum display. But it’s electrifying to be able to simply walk past them.

Flanged railroad wheels, as if they were Lionel model parts stored in a hobby shop.

Lathes, drill presses, and other shop tools, dressed like ghostly furniture in a haunted house.

Old locomotive boilers that were excavated from the (former) China Slough, as part of EPA remediation efforts.

One of the many doors into the erecting shop. A classic example of fin de siecle architecture.

In conclusion, I feel compelled to say “God bless the CSRM and the city of Sacramento” for preserving this hallowed ground from a critical stage of our history. It’s difficult to articulate just how unique and important this property is. I strongly encourage you to visit the CSRM and walk the block or two from the museum to also view the outside of the Shops from the Amtrak platform at the Sacramento Depot. (The Depot itself will be the worthy subject of a subsequent blog.) For the moment, the Shops are not open to the general public. But if you’re willing to become a docent of the CSRM (as I have just done), you’ll get your own guided tour. That’s worth the price of admission. Trust me.

California history · Cars

The Postman Cometh

June 16, 2022 steveboilard1 Comment

This morning a little after 6 am I took out the Speedmaster to downtown Placerville (pop: 11,000). There I got a cup of coffee and took a seat at the site of the old blacksmith shop where John M. Studebaker built wheelbarrows over a century ago. There’s a marker in the courtyard of the Bagel Works commemorating this fact.

John Studebaker was not the reason for my visit, but it’s worth recalling his connection to Placerville and the California Gold Rush. He was born in Pennsylvania and came out to California as a young man seeking his fortune in the gold fields. It didn’t take him long to realize the real path to riches lay not in mining for gold but in selling supplies to the gold miners. So he began building wheelbarrows right where I was drinking my coffee, and eventually amassed enough money to launch what would become one of the country’s largest, longest-lived, and most successful independent automobile manufacturers: The Studebaker Corporation. This is probably a good time for a brief clip of my friend Bill’s 1941 Studebaker Commander, which is still moving under its own power after 81 years. It’s a goal I hope to achieve myself in 20 years.

But back to this morning: I sat there with my coffee, waiting for the mail to be delivered. And this wasn’t just any mail delivery: This was a special delivery by the Pony Express. The Pony Express, you’ll remember, was created right about the same time that John Studebaker was building his wheelbarrows. The Pony Express carried US Mail from St. Joseph, MO to Sacramento on horseback, in only 10 days. It covered a route of 190 ten-mile segments, with fresh horses being supplied at each segment, and riders being changed about every 10 segments. (Some of the old Pony Express stations are still standing; I’ve been to a few of them in my travels, including the Pony Express Cafe in Eureka, Nevada, as I discussed briefly here.)

The Pony Express only lasted about a year and a half (from the spring of 1860 to the fall of 1861). It went bankrupt a month or two after the first transcontinental telegraph was established. But the Pony Express remains a romantic (or romanticized) part of the Old West.

So what does any of this have to do with this morning? Well, it seems that the good folks at the National Pony Express Association annually re-create the Pony Express ride–24 hours per day for 10 days. This morning the rider was scheduled to be coming through downtown Placerville a little before 7 am. When I got there, a small number of people were milling about, as though they were waiting for the world’s smallest parade. Seriously, this was not a well-attended event, but perhaps that’s because anyone living in this general area would probably opt instead to be present for the final moments, when the rider comes into Old Sacramento this afternoon.

Most of the people were wearing distinctive red shirts and leather vests–the uniform of the National Pony Express Association. But I also spotted a few civilians such as myself. The mood wasn’t exactly raucous, but clearly these hardy souls shared an interest in history and/or horses. Adding to the mood was the backdrop of 19th-century buildings on Placerville’s Main Street.

And then suddenly, without warning, the mailman arrived.

Then the mail bag (“mochila”) was transferred to a waiting rider, and the mail was back on its way. It was all over in less than a minute.

Neither sleet nor snow nor traffic laws….

There’s something compelling, in this age of texting, email, and on-demand media access, to see old-timey, flesh-and-blood communication mechanisms at work. I certainly would not argue that the Pony Express was superior to modern communications; heck, it wasn’t even superior to the telegraph. But it does represent a spirit and energy that seems to be in short supply these days. And that’s why this afternoon I’m going to be raising a pint to the young men who rode for the Pony Express.