It's Derby Time

As the end of the school year drew tantalizingly near, and the warm sun poured through the old brick walls of Wallace Elementary School, hope sprang eternal in the hearts and minds of grade school children. Baseball, picnics, fishing, hiking, camping, The Fourth of July, and maybe a trip to a far away place, loomed as an enticement to get that darn school year over with and dance out of the musty halls with unbridled glee when that final bell tolled the glad announcement that you were free.



But wait, I forgot to mention one more enticement. Yes, there was one more upcoming event on the calendar that added fuel to the glowing fire of excitement. This was an event like none other in the world. It was the infamous "Gyro Lead Creek Derby Days". For you see, each grade school student was handed a book of tickets for the carnival that rolled into Wallace to add color and excitement the event. I eagerly awaited those free tickets each year, and I had political privilege because my best friend's father just happened to be the Chief of Police in Wallace, and we were given extra tickets every summer. (Yes, good old political corruption at it's best.)



So, the first night of the carnival, which was always on a Thursday night, and my friend and I would head for the streets of downtown, which was not much of a chore for me because I lived on Cedar Street, and the carnival was set up three blocks from my home. Someday I will tell you how I used to have to walk two whole blocks to school through three feet of snow. It was horrible, but that is for another day.



The first thing on our agenda at the carnival was the ride known as the "Octopus".This ride always set up in front of Morrow's Retail, and it was by far our favorite ride. Now, once is enough for many people, but my friend and I had only one thing in mind, and that was to ride as many times in a row as we could before we got sick. OK, was that really that different than the adults who would drink as many beers or shots as they could before they also knelt before the Porcelain Goddess? I think not!



This ritual went on for three fulls nights, sometimes being augmented by rides on the Ferris Wheel and munching on Cotton Candy and snow cones. Then, on Saturday night the excitement reached a fevered pitch as the drum and bugle corp made their annual pilgrimage through the street of Wallace, visiting each bar, and that was no small task in those days. As they went from bar to bar the playing got worse and worse. Then, the climax of the evening came. We always tried to be on the Ferris wheel as the fireworks lit up the festive, night sky.

Then came the super bowel moment of Wallace, the actual floating down Lead Creek of the derby ball from Mullan to Wallace. What a moment, a Kodak moment, if you will. Thousands of screaming, drunk people cheering madly as the big ball came down the murky river.

That night we would always take one more ride on the Octopus, and as we weaved our way off the ride for the last time for that year we bid a sad farewell, and said we would see it all again next year.

And,all of these years later. I say IT"S DERBY TIME

Roots-And So It Began

Yes, Wallace was tough in those days and was probably exceeded in toughness only by fellow Coeur D' Alene Mining District town, Burke, Idaho, and Butte, Montana. It was the aforementioned once great mining mecca of Burke, Idaho that my roots began.

1929-ah yes, a dark, notorious year in the history of our great nation.Let's face it, with the great stock market crash of 1928 just two months removed, the entire country had been plunged into what historians call the "Great Depression" and the mood of the nation was mired in deep twin holes of doom and gloom.

Perhaps in the mind of the youth, though, there beat the drum of a glorious future. Yes, they saw the tears of hurt, confusion, and even anger on the faces of their parents and while they may have understood on the surface the dark mood of a country formerly bathed in the light of sunshine and hope, they also refused to light the flickering light of their dreams of a better tomorrow die out.

Against this backdrop of a collapsed economy and a nation reeling like a drunken bar patron, one family from Missouri found their way on the move in the hope of landing jobs in the mineral-rich mountains of Idaho. A fourteen-year-old kid from Joplin, Missouri arrived with his six brothers, father, and mother in the rough and tumble world of the notorious mining town of Burke, Idaho. The fourteen years old boy would may years later become the man I call "Dad".

Their route would carry them many miles from their home in Missouri to LosAngeles, Portland, Seattle, and finally the fabulously wealthy mining district called Burke.They came for the same reason many families were making cross-country treks.survival! My grandfather, although a very young man by today's standards, was disabled from years of working in the mines of Missouri, Oklahoma, and Kansas. His lungs were shot, and money was non-existent.


It was up to the boys in the family to carry the load and provide food for everyone.My Dad was a big, very strong country boy who had no problem looking older than his actual age, So, he lied about his age and was hired at the Austin Leasing Company, a large mine in those early years located about a mile this side of Burke, high up in the hills.The camp had its own boarding house, and the young miners made the trek up the mountain every week, and then went home on the weekends.

The barbers, dentists, pharmacies, grocery stores, hotels, boarding houses, churches, and schools, and of course a host of bars are now just faded memories of a once booming mining mecca, but for those of us who sprang from those roots, the toughness is in our genes.our minds, and in our hearts. We are fighters, and we don't run from adversity.

Yes, my Idaho roots came via Missouri to Burke, and on to Wallace, where from the age of four, I grew up.And so it began.

June Jewels

Welcome to June in Wallace. June in Wallace is just like June in other American small town, and--well, on second thought, Wallace just may be a teeny, tiny, tad bit different than a few, ok, some, all right, all right, MOST American small towns in America, the world, and probably even Mars. Well, maybe it may be more like Mars with some very out of this world customs and celebrations. Anyway, welcome to June in Wallace, Idaho, my hometown.

Calendar of Events as listed on http://www.wallaceidahochamber.com/recreation/festivals-events/
-Idaho State Square and Round Dance Festival

June 8, 2017 – June 10, 2017

Event

3 Days

Square and Round Dancers from around the state and region come to dance and have fun in Wallace Idaho

View Map

Wallace Civic Auditorium503 First St.Wallace, Idaho 83873

Sue Reisenauer 208.596.3326

Gyro Days

June 15, 2017 – June 18, 2017

Event

4 Days

BBQs, radiothon, carnival rides & concession right smack in the middle of Wallace -- all capped off with the Lead Creek Derby. Win a pot of cash if you correctly guess how long it takes a giant leather ball to float seven miles via the South Fork of the CDA river from Mullan to Wallace. All proceed go towards local scholarships

View Map

Downtown Wallace, South Fork of CDA RiverDowntownWallace, Idaho 83873

Dean Cooper dean@wallacebrewing.com

Wallace Founders Day -- The Traveling Tombstone of WIlliam R. Wallace

June 24, 2017

Event

1 Day

The tombstone of town founder Col. William R. Wallace will be brought back in style to it's name sake, with a grand parade, picnic and dedication.

View Map

Downtown Wallace IdahoHistoric Downtown & Railfoad DepotWallace, Idaho 83873

Jamie Baker 509.435.3005

Ok, maybe the first event is not so different than most small towns host, but you have got to admit, Lead Creek Derby and a traveling headstone celebration are Not your normal civic festivals.

But, that's Wallace, Enjoy.

PS, Spelling and word errors in event descriptions are not mine. I make enough errors on my own.

Here Comes the Judge-The Strange Saga of Sage-

Yes, the Sages had the world at their fingertips and their futures together as husband and wife, attorneys at law, was the thing Hallmark is made for. They settled in Detroit, and somewhere between Robert's 25th birthday and his 41st birthday, he became a Common Pleas Judge.But, also in that same time frame, something was happening inside the good judge's mind. Maybe it was because of the blows that he had endured in the ring. Maybe it was the pressure of years of study and the practice of law. Maybe it was the pressure of the duties of being a judge, or maybe, maybe there was something else at work here.Let's see what the Lewiston Evening Journal had to say.

dateline-Detroit-
A state wide police search for Common Pleas Judge Robert E Sage was underway today as a result of a shooting which left one man dead and two others wounded in the judge's office in the county buiding.
Inspector Paul O, Whitman of the homicide squad quoted the two wounded men as saying that the 41- year od judge " seemed to go suddenly haywire" during an argument last night with three business partners in a business enterprise,drew a pistol from his desk and began firing.
Ralph Nadell,48, of suburban Birmingham, fell with a bullet through his head. Al Nadell,39, his brother and Maurice D Smilay, a 56 year old Detroit attorney, suffred shouder wounds,
By the time poice arrived Judge Sage, a veteran politician, a former lumberjack, and professioanll prize fighter had fled hatless and coatless from the building
Smilay said the four men had  gathered in the judge's office to duscuss a court decision which threatened the existence of Sports Park here. All were directors of the Park, hee said, and Judge Sage had invested heavily in it.
During the argument which deveoped, Whitman quoted Smilay as sayig the judge suddenly produced the pistol and cried "this will pacify everybody" and opened fire.

https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1913&dat=19401002&id=5Zc0AAAAIBAJ&sjid=52kFAAAAIBAJ&pg=2220,119573&hl=en

There was no fairytale ending the saga of Robert E Sage. The strange saga of Sage ended when the former boxer, lawyer, judge, and Burke product, shot himself. He was dead at the ripe old age of 41

Yes, Wallace and Burke produced some very colorful characters, and all of us Wallace and Burke natives are their lineage.

A Little Bit Sinner And A Liltte Bit Saint-The Sinner

The raging battle inside humans over satisfying the never-ending thirst for things carnal and paradoxically, things spiritual, goes back to when man was first created. Hedonism would have us believe that it goes against the nature of man to withhold from whatever pleasures that he desires. Many religions proclaim that we  are to fight the flesh that wars against the spirit, and to give into lustful desires will lead to spiritual death and even eternal punishment. Will the two sides ever agree? Is there a common meeting ground? Maybe, just maybe, the two sides of a man are not really at war, but the two sides are the same person and are  two components of the whole. Is your arm a different self-functioning entity of your body than your leg is? 

My hometown of Wallace seemed to be able to arrive at an answer to the internal fight of a man with a simple proclamation. The illustrious mayor, His Honor, Herman K Rossi proclaimed in 1905 that "prostitution was a necessary evil", problem solved.

Wallace was always able to satisfy all of the parts of man from his desires for culture, Wallace had a great opera house, to his spiritual thirst, see the blog on churches in Wallace, to his passion for sex, see blog entitled " Normal, What Is Normal', and his desires for freedom, riches, and serenity. Wallace had it all.

I loved my hometown, and growing up Wallace was the best!

Remembering my place of birth .

I went over to hometown of Wallace today for a short trip on the 14th.. Since my birthday is on the 16th, I took a picture of the grounds where the Wallace Hospital once stood, and where I was born. The hospital grounds are now a small, lovely park. The third picture is the way the Wallace Hosptial looked in 1909, and no, that was not the year of my birth. The 4th picture is the house on Cedar that I grew up in. My folks owned it until 1984 when they moved to Osburn because the old house was too much for my mother to keep up with. I love that old house.

No place is lovelier that Wallace, Idaho in the Autumn. 

I would sooner be a Miner Than A Sooner-the legend of The Fighting Irish of Wallace

The year was 1957, and no high school in the Idaho had a better, tougher, and more determined team than dear old Wallace High School. So, how does a small school from Wallace and legendary collegiate gridiron giants get mentioned in the same breath? Sit down, kick your feet up, have a drink, and I will tell you about the Fighting Irish of Wallace High.

The collegiate gridiron wars had been dominated by two legendary programs whose pigskin heroics and feats were recounted the same way the ancient Greeks and Romans must have reverently narrated the sacred tales about the gods and goddesses of power and might. The two giants were the Oklahoma University Sooners, and the Fighting Irish of the University of Notre Dame, and there was no love between the warriors of these two mighty armies of grit, power, and superior athleticism.

The Sooners of Oklahoma had been on an unparallel roll of a win streak that had seen them score a victory in an astonishing 47 straight games. Now, in the world of parallel existence many, many miles from Norman, OK, sits the tiny farming community of Pullman, WA. Not only is Pullman the home of the Washington State Cougars, it is also home of the Pullman High School Greyhounds, and the Hounds were on a very impressive win streak of their own, having reeled of 35 straight wins. Word of the streak of Pullman High reached the Sooners in Oklahoma, and the Sooners were so impressed that they sent congratulations to their younger pigskin brothers in Pullman, and gave them the honorary nickname of “The Sooners of the Palouse”.

As we know, no streak lasts the test of time, and on a fateful Sooner day, November 16, 1957, the Sooners streak died on the battlefield to, yep, you guessed it, the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame. When he dust had cleared that day not a sound except for occasional sobs could be heard from the Sooner faithful as they looked with disbelief at the scoreboard. Could it be real? The answer was all too painful, for the it read –Notre Dame 7-Oklahoma 0.

Now, let’s move up north a bit from Oklahoma and Pullman to the small mining town nestled like a baby in the arms o the greatest silver, lead, and zinc deposits that the at that time had ever seen. I am talking about my hometown, the beautiful city of Wallace, Idaho. Wallace was home to a pretty tough and tumble football powerhouse of its own, The Wallace High School Miners, then coached by the legendary Bud Riley, the former Alabama high school star and Idaho Vandal star. Riley’s teams were always formidable and thought nothing of knocking schools five times their size on the collective keisters.

So, can you tell what is coming next? Pullmans’ streak was at 35, and next up on the schedule that year was ----drum roll please-“ladies and gentlemen, your Wallace Miners”. The hounds picked up their bruised bodies from the field, tails tucked under their bodies in total defeat, left the field.

Word reached all of the way to South Bend , Indiana, and the Fighting Irish were so impressed with the Miner’s victory over the “ Sooners of the Palouse” that the athletic director of Notre Dame sent a telegram to Wallace coach Bud Riley congratulating them on their big win, and dubbed Wallace as the “Fighting Irish of the Northwest” In addition, each Notre Dame player autographed a football, and the ball was sent to Wallace High, and the last time that I was in the old Civic Auditorium , it was still resting in the trophy case in the entrance to the auditorium. I assume that it now rests in a place of honor in the new school.

Ah, the good old days of Wallace!

Tuesday Drivels-Mullan on the rebound

Tuesday -Thought of the day.

If a king judges the poor with fairness, his throne will always be secure -Proverbs 29:14 NIV

Hm, something for America to remember. God was and is very protective of the poor and downtrodden. The very poor often have no voice. Let America be a shining beacon to those in desperate need. 
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I am very happy to see some sign of live in Mullan. I have always enjoyed going to Mulllan. The setting is almost majestic, and the old buildings bring to mind how it mus have been on the bustling days of yore. I remember, though, that as a small child I was petrified of the old highway that twisted and turned, and was often so slick in the winter time that you just kind of placed your hands on the wheel and prayed. Of course, it did not help matters any that there was a certain nasty curve that the locals christened " Death Curve" I would shut my eyes as tightly as I could tell my dad to let me know when we were past the curve . I guess that I expected to see ghosts come floating out or something. 

Anyway, congratulations to Mullan for the reopening of Mullan Trail Gas and Grocery, and the opening of Earl's Pub and Grill. I am sure that the good folks of Mullan are very happy to not have to drive to Wallace for just  a loaf of bread or to eat a meal out.

 Mullan,1912
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It is Tax Day. Do you know where your money is?

 
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The 11 th Commanement-Thou Shalt Not Give In To Outsiders

This week has brought the battle of good and evil to the pretty little city of Sandpoint, Idaho. Now, please note that is hardly ever the locals who wish to intimidate and bully the good, nope, is always some outside organization like the ACLU, and other ungodly outfits that create the problems. It seems that little Sandpoint has committed the unforgivable offense of having the Ten Commandments in a public park. Oh no, whatever shall we do? Someone could get offended! Oh no!


The real problem that I have, though, is that Sandpoint is considering a course of surrender rather than fighting the good fight and finishing the course. Why? Money! It is always the money. Bullies count on it. Well, Sandpoint, man up for once, and fight back. Just so NO! God is on your side on this one.


I am so proud that the Shoshone County Courthouse so proudly has the Commandments posted in the front yard of the courthouse. I can only hope that should they ever be challenged on it, that the same independent spirit that made Wallace the great town that it once was, still exists, and they will tell whatever bully organization trying to tell them what to do to take a flying leap.


From a blog called, of all things-http://apatheticagnostic.com/articles/meds/med06/images/Courthouse.jpg
are some great pictures of the Shoshone County Couthouse.
( By the way, this is an inserting side piece about the Ten Commandments in the courtyard and the irony of having the Bordello Museum just a shout away. Read it if you have the time.)

What If I had not grown up Wallace?

Recently I have been in contact with some of the people that I went to school with in Wallace. Several of these guys and ladies I knew from kindergarten through high school. The one common thread of our conversations is that we all agree that growing up Wallace was something very special, and we would not trade growing up there for any other place.

When  I was in the second grade, my parents had decided to move to Los Angeles because my mother's sister and her husband lived there and was encouraging us to move there. My uncle had even found employment for my dad, and so, it looked like we would be moving to the big city. We even started the preliminary packing and discarding of things that would not be making the move with us. 

I have to admit that at first, I was very excited about the prospect of moving to LA. But, then, I started thinking about all of my friends in Wallace. I really don't know what transpired to change the plans, but I still remember the call when my mother and dad called my aunt and uncle in LA and informed them that we were not going to move down there. No, we were going to stay in good old Wallace,Idaho.  My brother and I breathed big sighs of relief that our world was safe. 

I have wondered from time to time what my life would have been like had I grown up LA instead of Wallace. I would have been a big city kid instead of a small town kid. Would my philosophy about life have been radically different? Would my two kids have been born?

Ironically, since I did grow up in a small town, I spent a lot of my youth fantasizing about living in a big city like New York or Los Angeles. I know, I know, kind of a contradiction, was it not? Conversely, had I grown up in a big city, would I have dreamed of living in a small mountain town? 

I have done both now. I lived in New York City, Las Vegas, Seattle, Portland, Oregon, and smaller towns like Philomath, Oregon. I have spent lots of time in Los Angeles and metropolitan Miami.  It is all good, and I enjoyed the small towns, and I enjoyed the big cities. 

So, what about growing up Wallace? I still would not trade it for anything. As far as big cities versus small towns? Well, happiness comes from having personal peace. I have that wherever I go, for peace and happiness are inside of me, and I take them with me at all times. 

The Fighting Irish of Wallace High? What?

 

The year was 1957, and perhaps no other high school in the state of Idaho was had a better, tougher, and determined football team than old Wallace High had. (Now mind you, I was not in HS by a long ways.) A little background for this story is in order.

 

 

 

Back then, college football was pretty well dominated by two legendary programs, the University of Oklahoma Sooners, and the Fighting Irish of the University of Notre Dame. The Sooners had won an incredible 47 straight games, and it seemed like the streak would never end. So, how is all of this related to little old Wallace, Idaho? Down in the Palouse sits the town of Pullman, Washington, and home of the Washington State Cougars, but they are not the story, either. No, the story was Pullman High School who had won 35 straight games, and they, too, seemed unbeatable. The Sooners of mighty Oklahoma were so impressed with Pullman High School’s streak, that they dubbed them “The Sooners of the Palouse”. Now that was pretty heady stuff back I those days.

 

 

 

As we all know, all streaks must come to and end, the Sooners streak came to a grinding halt when a little Irish magic, and a whole lot of football skill combined on the field, and the result was that Notre Dame stopped the Sooners streak at 47. Now, we move back to little old Wallace.

 

 

 

Guess who played Pullman on game 36 of their 35 game winning streak? You guessed it, our own Wallace High Miners. Need I say more? The Pullman streak died that day on the gridiron.

 

 

 

Word reached all of the way to South Bend , Indiana, and the Fighting Irish were so impressed with the Miner’s victory over the “ Sooners of the Palouse” that the athletic director of Notre Dame sent a telegram to Wallace coach Bud Riley congratulating them on their big win, and dubbed Wallace as the “Fighting Irish of the Northwest” In addition, each Notre Dame player autographed a football, and the ball was sent to Wallace High, and the last time that I was in the old Civic Auditorium , it was still resting in the trophy case in the entrance to the auditorium. I assume that it now rests in a place of honor in the new school.

 

 

 

Ah, the good old days of Wallace.