When the Snake River was proposed to be the shrinking Great Salt Lake's lasting salvation

                         A dried up and exposed portion of the Great Salt Lake bed.

THE Great Salt Lake is declining. Between droughts and less river water reaching the lake, its level is nearing a historic low.

Ironically, in the early 20^th Century, this possibility was not only recognized, a solution was offered.

“Water for the lake. Marcus E. Jones has a plan to present. Would use Snake River …” was a Dec. 27, 1903 headline in the Salt Lake Tribune.

Jones, a civil and mining engineer and geologist, proposed creating a canal that would bring the flood waters from the Snake River and its tributaries to the Great Salt Lake and Utah. He said this would restore the GSL to its former normal levels and excess water from the canal could be used in other ways, as needed.

                            The Snake River at Jackson Dam.

He estimated the cost then for such a canal to be $2 million (That more than $50 million in today’s dollar value).

His plan was to take the water out of the Snake River at St. Anthony and take the canal through Red Rock Pass at the north end of the Cache Valley. There the canal could dump into the Bear River, or a canal could shadow the river to the Wasatch Front. He said there is always excess Snake water – especially during the months of April, May and June.

Jones’ vision involved more than just raising the Great Salt Lake level. His own studies concluded that the rainfall in the Salt Lake Valley is greater when the GSL is higher.

Of course, this canal never happened.

                          Mesa Falls, along the Snake River.

Some two decades later, newspaper headlines were prophetic on the lake. “America’s famous ‘Dead Sea’ soon to be dry land.” That was a Feb. 3, 1924 headline in the Ogden Standard-Examiner.

 “Within a century the Great Salt Lake, in Utah, will have dried up,” the story stated. It then likened the GSL’s reduction to that of its predecessor, Lake Bonneville.

The GSL fell 10 feet, from 1900-1915, until some exceptional wet years had recently gained most of that loss back.

    A tumbleweed sits along where once the GSL water was more than a dozen feet deep. 

“Were it to disappear, Salt Lake City would lose its principal attraction,” the story stated.

Left would be an immense sink, a giant salty plain, impossible to use for anything constructive.

 An exposed piece of wood along the sandbar to Fremont Island, before it was removed by 2005.

-During the same time period, Antelope Island was no longer and isle. “To Island by land. Trip can be made practically dry shod. Road of salt and sand,” was a Sept. 24, 1900 headline in the Salt Lake Tribune.

The story continued: “Great Salt Lake has been known as the ‘Dead Sea of America.’ If it is not dead, it certainly gives every evidence of being in the throes of dissolution.

The story stated how there was nothing but four miles of glistening salt between what used to be the eastern shoreline of the lake and Antelope Island. A Tribune representative made the trip to the Island by wagon and horses in 35 minutes, “without urging the horses to any great extent.”

One man told the Tribune that he wagered he could travel by land from the ranch house on the south end of Antelope Island to Saltair, 10 miles away, “with perfect safety.”

Cattle were reported as still doing well on Antelope Island, though not much wheat has been raised there, due to extra dry conditions.

Further north, the water conditions of the Great Salt Lake were reported as more favorable. Still, the hunks of decaying boats and other wreckage along the former lakebed were reported as not being very inviting in appearance.

(-Originally published in the Deseret News on August 13, 2019.)

Brigham Young's ambitious but failed Layton water project of 1857

                      A section of Weber Basin's water facilities in northeast Layton.

TODAY'S Weber Basin Water Conservancy District supplies drinking and irrigation water to a large portion of Utah north of Salt Lake City.

The Weber Basin Water Conservancy District covers over 2,500 square miles within five counties: Davis, Weber, Morgan, Summit and a part of Box Elder.

Weber Basin’s primary facilities were constructed from 1952 to 1969 by the Bureau of Reclamation. However, there was an earlier, failed attempt to bring extra water from Weber Canyon to the benches of Davis County.

According to the Salt Lake Tribune of May 28, 1916, Brigham Young came up with an idea in 1857 to tunnel through the ridge on the Mountain Road northeast of Layton and carry Weber River water to the benches of what is now Layton City, Kaysville and Fruit Heights.

Considerable work was done on this project by Davis County residents. Lumber was hauled from Salt Lake by oxen to line the tunnel. However, a large amount of quicksand was encountered. It could not be controlled and undermined the tunnel project.

Ditches were then envisioned to carry water from Kays and Holmes Creek instead, but the “Utah War” of 1857-1858 started and most residents moved southward to avoid Johnston’s Army and that alternate project was not done. AND, it would pretty much be another century before Brigham’s water vision would be fulfilled.

                                Piping inside Weber Basin's Layton facility.

Today, Weber Basin delivers about 220,000 acre-feet of water annually: 60,000 acre-feet for municipal and industrial uses and another 160,000 acre-feet for irrigation – including some secondary pressure irrigation systems.

Weber Basin also operates seven large storage reservoirs -- Causey, East Canyon, Lost Creek, Pineview, Smith & Morehouse, Wanship and Willard Bay. All total, these can store approximately 400,000 acre-feet of water.

Weber Basin also operates and maintains over 79 miles of canals, a trans-mountain tunnel, two multi-county aqueducts, hundreds of miles of raw water and culinary pipelines, and nine major pumping stations.

OTHER SOURCE: Weber Basin Water Conservancy District website.

When ‘Good Roads Day’ changed Parleys Canyon; Plus, various BYU and U. of U. tales

                                            Upper left, the mouth of Parleys Canyon

HATE driving over bad and bumpy roads? Just over a century ago, Utahns had an annual opportunity to improve their highways on what was known as “Good Roads Day.”

“Scenery of Parleys Canyon is changed”. Rotarians celebrate Good Roads Day by practical demonstration. Luncheon is feature. Blistered hands and aching backs repaid by the work accomplished” was a June 8, 1917 headline in the Salt Lake Tribune.

The story stated that on June 7, more than 200 yards of the Parleys Canyon road “underwent a complete change” and “at the same time a monstrous overhanging cliff, which threatened traffic on the road to Park City, was completely removed.”

Some 100 Salt Lake businessmen, members of the Rotary and Commercial clubs, attacked the dirt and rock with shovels and picks.

The F.C. Richmond’s Machinery Company had used dynamite to erase the overhanging rock on the road. Utah Power and Light Company, Portland Cement and other businesses also assisted in the work. An elaborate luncheon was set up down the roadway to feed the workers.

After a good day’s work, the stretch of road, considered the most dangerous in the canyon, “appeared a broad, smooth boulevard, where two motor cars can easily and safely pass.”

MORE HISTORY:

-“Student with bat fells three hazers” was a March 29, 1912 headline in the Salt Lake Tribune.

The story stated that a Brigham Young University student in Provo, Robert Hammond, refused to help whitewash the “Y” on the mountainside, as did most of the other students. Hammond said preparing to return home to St. Anthony, Idaho the next day.

Upset fellow students stormed his room, with the announced intention of shaving his head as a punishment.

Hammond responded by providing knockout blow with a baseball bat to three of the intruding students. Hammond was disarmed and students were still preparing to shave his head, when Provo Police arrived. One of the students attacked the police for interfering and was arrested.

The police were preparing to leave with the prisoner and with Hammond, who they wanted to take for his protection, when a BYU class president also interfered with police. One of the officers drew his revolver and told the leader he would be shot if he advanced. He didn’t but was also arrested and taken to jail.

The three students hit by the bat were not seriously injured.

-Six years later, in 1918, the Tribune published a story on University of Utah students refurbishing their lettered symbol on the mountainside.

“Giant ‘U’ given annual scrubbing. Class antics feature hillside bath” was an April 13 story that year.

The story stated that the concrete symbol was cleaned and whitewashed by a large group of University men, as directed by their athletic leader, Homer Warner.

After completing the task, the men marched in an orderly fashion down the mountain and past the campus Administration building. They saluted the American flag and sang patriotic songs. They were then treated to a luncheon served by the women students.

Next, the sophomore men had a rope pull over a mud pond against the freshmen men. The sophomores won the pull, but a free-for-all broke out and many sophomores were thrown in the pool too.

Finally, the university baseball team had a game against East High, which the collegians won. A benefit dance ended the day’s activities.

            The block 'U' on the lower University of Utah campus today.

-The University of Utah Daily Chronicle newspaper of Nov. 3, 1922 listed the history of the “U” on the hill, whose origin dates back to the fall of 1905.

The story claims, “so far as anyone in this region knew, it was the first symbol of its kind to be founded.” (Only one of the colleges in California was believed to have started the letter in the hillside tradition any earlier.)

The letter on the hillside was predated up to six months by a controversy on the mountainside.

A student realized in the spring of 1905 that a nearby lime kiln had an ample supply of white lime, while a nearby mine featured a black, coal-like substance.

“One morning the whole campus was surprised to see the letters ‘07’ blazing forth on the hillside,” the story stated. “The idea had not been patented and for several weeks a series of class fights and strenuous battles were held. One night the letters of one class would be put there, only to be changed the following morning.”

Soon, classes would camp on the hillside to protect their letter creations and so schoolwork was seriously disrupted by the competition.

By the fall that year, student body officers had the class letters removed and replaced with a temporary block “U”.

“The letter excited so much comment and was considered such a fine thing that the student body officers desired to make it permanent.”

A two-day holiday was granted to all male students in the spring of 1906 and money was raised on campus and from the community. The result was a concrete symbol.

                       Looking down on the University of Utah campus today.

However, a gravel road had to be built to the site and borrowed horses struggled to haul materials there. Nearby Fort Douglas loaned out six mules, plus wagons and drivers for the task.

(There was another brief controversy between classes over symbols on an old smokestack on campus, but eventually the University President stopped that fiasco.)

Campus officials were proud that the letter grew out of class strife to become a unifying symbol for the University.

Three students, Carl Scott, H.L. Marshall  and Stayner Richards are credited with the original idea of putting class letters on the mountainside.

In 1902, Utah’s 2 oldest pioneers had visited Utah first in 1846; Plus, the State’s lost gold mine

THE FIRST pioneers to come to Utah and living in the Beehive State in 1902 were NOT any Mormon Pioneers from the vaunted 1847 arrival. They were a brother and sister from the infamous Donner Party that traveled through Utah in 1846 – a year earlier.

“Brother and Sister who came to Utah in 1846” was a July 23, 1904 headline in the Deseret Evening News.

“…It is indeed interesting to know that there are now living in Utah two persons who traveled the sites of many Utah settlements one year before the advent of the Pioneers,” the Evening News stated. “They are Mrs. Lucinda (Clawson) Rhoads Dodge of 1321 East South Temple Street, this city, and Caleb Rhoads, who lives on his ranch in Carbon County, near Price. They are daughter and son of ‘Father’ Thomas Rhoads, who led the section of the Donner Party that escaped hardship and later headed the relief expedition that found the ill-fated immigrants living upon human flesh in the tops of the Sierras.”

In 1902, this brother and sister were believed to be the only remaining survivors of the Donner Party.

(In fact, in 1902, only 16 of the original July 1847 Mormon Pioneer party of 147 people were still alive.)

Mrs. Dodge was 66 years old in 1902 and her parents were members of the Mormon Church. She said her father was determined to head west early, to California – where he thought would be the future home of the Church. And, if he was wrong, would return to where the Church settled in the future.

“My father was a natural born pioneer,” Dodge said.

She also said that even though her father was working at Sutter’s Mill when gold was discovered, he wanted to return to Utah, where the Church had settled. And, he did, with his family in 1849.

“Coming across the plains from California, we buried innumerable skeletons, the gruesome evidence of Indian massacres, but still we were unharmed. Our family seemed to bear charmed lives,” she told the Evening News.

Dodge also noted that her brother, Caleb, was often associated with the remarkable story of the mysterious mine in eastern Utah.

                                      Caleb Rhoads

The Evening News story continued: “They used to say that about once a year he would disappear for two weeks or more and return with a sack of gold dust. If so, he has never revealed the whereabouts of the mine, except the known fact that there is a gold-producing property somewhere on the reservation. It has been said that the Indians threatened him with death if he ever revealed the location, but most of these tales are regarded by Mrs. Dodge as largely legendary.”

“I know there is gold on the reservation,” Dodge told the Evening News, since she said she handled a lot of it that her father possessed. She said he brought some of the gold from California, but then people thought we had the secret of a gold mine near Vernal.

Dodge then stressed that even though some believed her brother still visited that secret mine yearly, he has been an invalid for several years.

She also said she had visited the Donner site in the Sierras about 15 years earlier. She had further told the Evening News what she knew about some of the hardships that the snowed-in Donner Party had endured.

-“Utah’s Lost Gold Mine …” was a May 28, 1953 headline in the Roosevelt Standard newspaper by Morton Wardle. Here the legend of the lost gold mine in the Uintas was also recounted. This story said Caleb Rhoads took his first gold trip in 1855, being shown by Indians where the metal was and promising not to reveal the location.

Rhoads then made several more trips to the mine until somehow the Indians believed the promise was broken and Rhoads was to tell Brigham Young no more “money rock.” Rhoads supposedly said he didn’t know why the Indians felt the promise was broken, but that he may have offered leaders in Washington, D.C., to pay off the national debt, if they’d allow him to stake a claim on the mine – located on the Indian reservation.

The Federal government refused the offer, the Roosevelt story stated. Rhoads then still made more pack trips to the mine, though he never returned from one trip, either dying by accident, or killed by the Indians.

“Will this secret ever be known?” the story stated. “Some say yes, some say no, but down through the years it has been a prospector’s dream, to find the Rhoads mine.”

(Note: This story used the spelling of Rhoads, as used in the 1902 Deseret Evening News. The Roosevelt Standard used a Rhoades spelling and other variations of the name's spelling also abound.)

-Originally published in the Deseret News on July 22, 2019.

Back when marathon swimming races flourished in the Great Salt Lake

“FLOATING like a cork” in the Great Salt Lake was a very popular pastime in Northern Utah, from when the first pioneers arrived until the early 20^th Century. And, by the 1920s, a new rage in the briny lake arose – long distance swimming.

“Annual marathon furnishes a thrill” was an August 25, 1920 headline in the Salt Lake Telegram newspaper.

This “first” annual race (authorized by the Amateur Athletic Union) started at Antelope Island and ended at Saltair. Alvin Nelson won the 6.75-mile race in two hours and 40 minutes. McKeith Burt finished just five seconds behind, as runner-up.

(Note that Nelson had won a similar inaugural GSL race a year prior, as an amateur, in 1919, but it was not organized under the auspices of the AAU.)

Thirteen swimmers started the 1920 race, but five had to be fished from the lake in the first four miles.

However, seventh place was taken by Frank Nelson, just age 13 – and he swam the last half of the race without goggles.

Looking south from the highest point on Antelope Island to the Oquirrh Mountains and part of the lake where marathon swim races used to be held.

-The Telegram of Aug. 7, 1921 clarified that the August Antelope Island to Saltair race was for amateurs only. It also stated that “Professor” C.S. Leaf held the pro record for that same course at 2 hours and 28 minutes (or 12 minutes faster than the amateur record), set on Aug. 19, 1919.

-The Ogden Standard-Examiner of Jan. 20, 1927 promoted the idea of having a 31-mile marathon swim race around the Great Salt Lake, that would capture the interest of the world. There’s no evidence this race ever became a reality, But, the intent was for the Salt Lake and Ogden chambers of commerce to funnel some of the $100,000 combined money they used annually to promote Utah and add some into this professional race and its prize funds.

The story also noted how there’s no fear of shark attack’s in Utah’s lake and the salt-laden water would offer more of a buoyant rest for swimmers.

-The Telegram of July 6, 1930 explained how the Antelope Island to Saltair swimming race had been an intermittent event, since its early years. For example, the race was held in 1930, but wasn’t held in 1928 or 1929.

-“Orson Spencer sets mark for Antelope Swim. Annual paddling marathon most successful in history” was a Dec. 31, 1931 Telegram headline. The newspaper reported almost five months after the event that Spencer had set a course record of 2:25.41, breaking Professor Leaf’s pro record – and Charles Welch, Jr., was just 17 seconds behind as runner-up.

                                           The west side of Antelope Island.

-One shortcoming in early Great Salt Lake swimming races was the lack of female entrants. “Feminine entrants lacking from 1931 Saltair Marathon” was a July 22, 1931 Telegram headline. Mary Gibbs, a Salt Lake tennis player, had initially entered the race, but later withdrew.

-By 1932, the GSL swimming race had attracted 40 participants. “Replete with tradition and color, the annual Antelope Island swim marathon on the Great Salt Lake will enter its fourteenth year of existence when paddlers begin the battle of the brine …” Reporter Wendell J. Ashton stated in a June 29, 1932 Telegram story.

However, the story stated that Mrs. Billie Droubay was the only woman entrant and an unofficial finisher in the 1931 lake swim, “finishing two hours after officials had left the finishing scene.”

The top finishers in the 1930s races won medals.

-The Telegram of Aug. 1, 1933 stated that year’s GSL swim was set for August 2 and that three women were entered. Results of that race were apparently never published.

-The Telegram of July 6, 1936 reported that Miss Hazel Cunningham of Salt Lake, swam from Saltair to Black Rock, a distance of five miles, in three hours and nine minutes. – And that was the last report of such a 1930s lake swim.

Cunningham's quest for GSL marathon swimming also highlighted the finicky lake's dangerous side. "Four rescued as boat sinks in lake storm" was a June 12, 1936 headline in the Salt Lake Telegram.
Her first attempt at a record swim was met with disaster as a sudden lake storm overturned the boat following along. A Salt Lake Tribune sportswriter and three of Cunningham's friends spent 4 hours in rough water with her before being rescued. The boat tipped over about three miles from Saltair beach.

     Fourth-graders from Layton's Vae View Elementary School wading in the Great Salt Lake.

-Why did these 20^th Century GSL lake races suddenly stop? Probably at least partially because the Great Salt Lake’s level dropped significantly. All during the heyday of briny races in the 1920s, the lake level stayed above 4,202 feet above sea level. (4,200 feet is often considered the lake’s average elevation.)

According to the U.S. Geological Survey, by 1935, the lake level was down to approximately 4,196 feet and by 1940, it had dropped to about 4,195 feet. These low lake levels would have made a swim from Antelope Island to Saltair an impossibility, as dry or very shallow lakebed would be the norm. The lake level rebounded some by 1950, but then by the 1960s it had dropped to the lowest level since the Pioneers had arrived.

This metal post was landlocked in the former Great Salt Lake in 2004, when low lake levels exposed it. Twenty years earlier it would have been underwater.

(-This story was originally published in the Deseret News on June 24, 2019.)

1913: Salt Lake City’s first-ever ‘marathon’ race, only 5 miles and more of an obstacle course

                                A slice of the crowd at the 2012 Salt Lake City Marathon race.

SOME 57 years before the first Deseret News Marathon (26.2 miles), there was the first public “marathon” footrace in Salt Lake City.

Sponsored by the Commercial Club of Salt Lake, it was promoted by local newspapers to be a marathon, while race organizers referred to it as a “cross-city run.”

The Salt Lake Herald of Nov. 4, 1913 billed it as the first modified marathon to ever be held in Utah.

According to the Salt Lake Tribune of Dec. 7, 1913, this was a five-mile race. (Although that’s 21.2 miles short of today’s official marathon distance, the farthest distance University of Utah cross country runners raced that year was three miles, according to the Telegram of Oct. 29, 1913.)

The start of an October 1972 collegiate cross country race in Ogden between Weber State College and Utah State University. Race distance was regularly five miles at that time.

“Williams wins marathon; Race is great success” was the Tribune’s headline after the first “marathon.” Herbert N. Williams of S.L. grabbed first-place in a time of 29:31.8 (or just under a six-minute per mile pace).

Williams was in the lead from the start and was never challenged. Forty-five men started the race, yet only 29 finished.

In fact, a Telegram headline on Dec. 4 – three days before the race – had stated, “Club may abandon proposed run across city,” because of a lack of entrants.

The race was held on a Saturday at 4 p.m., and on December 6, it was oddly a winter-time race, though photographs show most runners wearing shorts (and fortunately there was no snow on the ground). Organizers apparently chose that time of year for a race because similar races were regularly held in eastern states in the late fall.

Orin Jackson, a Brigham Young College of Logan runner, fainted at the finish line, but quickly recovered.

Yet, the race was more of an obstacle course than how road races are staged today …

“Every conceivable annoyance was put in the way of the runners,” the Tribune story stated. “Although the Commercial Club field sports committee had done everything within its power to keep the course clear, the road was packed with automobiles and vehicles of all sorts, to say nothing of hundreds and men, boys and dogs. It is a fact that Williams and those who finished immediately after him had to fight their way through a dense crowd before they could touch the finishing line.”

There was also a street paving job underway at ninth south and State Street, that runners had to maneuver through.

Some runners also had to run off road on weeds and embankments to get past heavy auto traffic.

“A couple of the entrants took advantage of passing autos ‘to get a lift.’ The inspectors of the course, however quickly spotted them …”

The race started and ended at the Pioneer Monument at South Temple and Main streets.

There were also other controversies with this historic race. Autos measured the course at 5.2 miles, not 5.0.

Also, the Telegram’s race results story of Dec. 6 stated that Williams won the race by a full city block. However, the newspaper stated on Dec. 8 that the end of the race course was so blocked with automobiles that no other runner could have passed Williams had they possessed the endurance to do so.

Also, “Commercial Club is too generous with its marathon prizes” was a Dec. 4, 1913 headline in the Salt Lake Telegram. That’s because a $200 motorcycle went to the winner (that’s more than $5,000 in 2019 dollar value). The Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) at the time had a rule that any prizes over $50 made a runner a professional, according to the story.

Some runners, particularly prep and collegiate runners worried winning such a prize would affect their amateur status.

                 The start of a 3-mile road race with dogs in Layton, Utah in the spring of 1988.

“Keen interest in long distance runs” was a Nov. 22, 1913 headline in the Telegram, before the race, but illustrating a national and local trend in the rising popularity of footraces. All Utah colleges then, except BYU in Logan, sponsored cross country races and high schools were considering doing the same.

(Previously, bicycles competitions – often by professionals – was the racing rage in Utah for decades.)

-The sequel to that first S.L. marathon was a high school only version that next spring. According to the Tribune of March 21, 1914, Munn Cannon of Salt Lake High School (today’s West High) won that 2.25-mile race in 14:17. Medals, not prizes were awarded to the top finishers.

-Less than a year after the Commercial Club’s inaugural race, the Deseret Gymnasium organized a second “cross-city” race on Oct. 21, 1916. And, the prizes for this race were well-publicized.

According to the Salt Lake Tribune of Oct. 9, 1916, the top two finishers received an expense-paid trip to Denver to compete in a race there. Third-place received a gold watch, while fourth-place received a sweater coat and fifth-place a jewelry box.

-Although not an official competition, another footrace, of sorts, grabbed some newspaper attention in that same era. According to the Salt Lake Tribune of June 2, 1914, two men, W.C. Stark and H.M. Chamberlain were deep in a debate in the railyard at Logan’s Cache Junction, about the moon and its phases, when they missed their train north.

The two men were apparently so keen on getting to Hailey, Id., on time that they reportedly raced about two miles in just over 10 minutes to catch up to the train at its next stop.

(-This was originally published in the Deseret News on April 22, 2019.)

The Mormon Pioneers encountered the first major east wind event in 1848

            The view out of Farmington Canyon.                                  Photo by Roger Arave

HORRIFIC, gusting east canyon winds have been a periodic phenomenon ever since the pioneers of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.

The first record of such winds struck Davis County hard in the fall of 1848: "East winds have come from time to time (in Davis County) ever since the people can remember, doing much damage to trees and roofs," states the history book "East of Antelope Island," published by the Daughters of Utah Pioneers.

The first recorded incident of strong east winds comes from a diary of Daniel A. Miller, one of the earliest settlers in Farmington.

He recorded that the very first day his family arrived in the area — the fall of 1848 — there was a heavy east wind.

Early settlers created inventive ways to try to secure their roofs from these winds, but nothing seemed foolproof. One early Kaysville resident, John R. Barnes, made the east walls of his home four bricks thick to ward off canyon wind damage.

Prominent settler George D. Watt made a special windstorm shelter for his family, but he still had his home's roof blown off.

A strong east wind in the summer of 1854 was actually a miracle. The canyon winds saved the day by blowing hordes of invading grasshoppers away from Davis County crops and into the Great Salt Lake, where they perished.

Perhaps the first most widespread east winds that affected most of the Wasatch Front was recorded on May 12, 1859.

The Deseret News of May 18, 1859, reported:

"On last Thursday evening, the wind commenced blowing in this city from the east and continued to increase in velocity till three or four o'clock on Friday morning when it reached the height of its fury and came rushing down from the Wasatch range through the kanyons (sic) opening into Great Salt Lake Valley, sweeping every thing before it that was not sufficiently strong, or firmly attached to terra firma to resist its force."

The account continued:

"Much damage was done to buildings, fences and other erections ... The gale seems to have been the strongest at Farmington, Davis County, where the house of Wells Smith and of David Hess were completely destroyed, eight more unroofed and many others materially injured ... and nearly once half the fences in that vicinity were prostrated."

The newspaper reported that the wind was also severe in Centerville and destroyed the home of Thomas Rich, plus another eight or 10 homes and barns were unroofed.

Residents of Ogden city and Weber County reported considerable damage to buildings and fences too.

The courthouse in Brigham City had the roof blown off and then the walls fell in, making it a "total wreck."

Salt Lake County reported loose items blown all over, carriages overturned and much dust and gravel in motion.

Still, there were no reports of fatalities.

The Deseret News reported that there had been several other gales in previous years "that would make a man wish he was somewhere else out of this cold, high, airy, mountainous region, if there was any other place on earth he could dwell in peace."

The Deseret News reported another major east wind event on Nov. 16, 1860, as reported in the newspaper of Nov. 21, 1860.

Due to its proximity to Emigration Canyon, the wind was worst in the Sugar House area of Salt Lake City.

Again there was considerable damage done to buildings, barns and fences. Roofs were blown off in Centerville and somehow the wind help start a fire and then intensify it so that a mule and some 106 sheep and tons of hay were consumed.

"Three houses at Freedom (one of Kaysville's early names), including the large dwelling of Bishop Taylor were unroofed," the newspaper reported.

"The City of Ogden suffered severely ... The large and elegant Tabernacle was considerable (sic) damaged."

Hurricane-force east winds struck at least twice in the early 1860s, and the roof on the East Bountiful chapel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had to be replaced twice.

After one such east wind, the Tuttle brothers from Bountiful jokingly inquired if any missing hats had been found on Antelope Island.

The east winds were a very feared and dreaded occurrence, especially in Farmington. Canyon winds and water shortages plagued many early Davis settlers the most.

Perhaps the saddest east wind incident took place in February 1864 when Elizabeth Rigby of south Farmington and her 18-month-old son, John, froze to death after being pinned against a fence by hurricane force canyon winds. Husband John Rigby had left his family to travel to Salt Lake City for medicine. Upon returning, he not only discovered the two deaths, but the home's roof was also blown off and 200 sheep, six horses, 10 cows and four pigs perished because of downed buildings and the frigid winds.

During a Nov. 9, 1864, visit to Farmington with Wilford Woodruff when the canyon winds were blowing, President Brigham Young rebuked the winds in the name of the Lord, Wilford Woodruff noted and is published in "Wilford Woodruff — History of His Life and Labors."

Woodruff's diary reports that east winds did decrease substantially for some years afterward, perhaps as long as the late 1890s.

When Matthew Cowley reviewed Woodruff's diary in 1909 before its publication in "Wilford Woodruff — History of His Life and Labors," he noted:

"In late years these winds have occurred in some of their old-time severity."

Strong east winds struck Davis County twice during 1896 and two more times in 1898. A fierce canyon wind in 1906 took the roof off the 2-year-old West Bountiful chapel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Sources: Deseret News Archives; "East of Antelope Island" book, by Daughters of Utah Pioneers; "Weather and Climate" book, by Dan Pope and Clayton Brough.

             Weber Canyon's narrow mouth also produces strong east canyon winds periodically.



  

The beginnings of golf in Utah: More social than athletic and a pricey endeavor at first

                             A Salt Lake Tribune illustration from April 22, 1900 

THE beginnings of the sport of golf in Utah were probably more social than athletic.

In fact, the headline for one of the first golf stories in a Utah newspaper stated: “Salt Lake’s smart set opens golf season at the county club’s links. The affair takes the form of a social function more than an athletic event.” (Salt Lake Telegram of April 5, 1902.)

That newspaper story stated this was the third annual event, meaning organized golf first took off in Utah in 1899.

“Club members as a rule wore the regulation golf dress, the women in scarlet coasts, short shirts and golf shoes, the men in similar coats, loud checked knickerbockers and golf shoes, while of the invited guests the women gave an excellent display of the spring fashions and the men conformed for the most part to the dictates of fashion in frock coat and silk hat,” the 1902 Telegram story stated.

                               Another Salt Lake Tribune illustration from April 22, 1900 

“Golf tournament is opened. First match played yesterday on the grounds of the Country Club, thirteen members playing” was an earlier golf story, this one in the April 22, 1900 Salt Lake Tribune. (This Country Club was on Eleventh East Street.)

Such was the beginnings of Utah golf and in the early years other reports indicated that the sport was too exclusive and expensive for the average person.

The majority of Utah’s first golf courses in the early 20^th Century were private ones, according to a June 19, 1994 story by Jim Rayburn in the Deseret News.

It is also possible that the creation of Utah’s first public course, Nibley Park in 1922, may have also been aided by President Heber J. Grant of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. According to the Salt Lake Tribune of August 20, 1919, President Grant took a month-long trip to Southern California that summer and there attended meetings, dedicated a new building and even played golf with Bishop Charles W. Nibley, Presiding Bishop of the Church.

The Tribune story stated that President Grant “modestly admits his record surprised even himself” on the golf course.

Then, just more than two years later, the Salt Lake Telegram of Dec. 27, 1921 reported, “Nibley Park is to be name of new golf links. City Commission decides upon official designation for ground presented City; Ceremony later.”

“City formally dedicated park as golf course. Bishop Charles W. Nibley’s gift to Salt Lake officially accepted at ceremonies held on the grounds. Donor honored by prominent citizens. Exercises are followed by match golf game over municipal links; open to other outdoor activities,” was a May 21, 1922 Telegram headline.

                    An undated photo of Wandamere, forerunner to Nibley Park Golf Course.

The story stated that the Nibley Golf course site was originally a farm, then an amusement placed known as Calder’s Park and next renamed Wandamere. The Granite LDS Stake eventually acquired the land and finally Bishop Nibley purchased it from the Church.

Bishop Nibley was quoted as saying, “But when I think that this generation and the generations of men and women yet to come shall find healthful enjoyment and rare pleasure here in playing that splendid outdoor Scotch game known was golf and also in other outdoor amusements, which shall not interfere with golf, that thought gives me the highest satisfaction and most genuine pleasure.” President Grant even offered a dedicatory prayer on the new facility, confirming that he had a key interest in the new sport.

                                 Another Salt Lake Tribune illustration from April 22, 1900 

Nibley Park was the landmark start to public golf in Utah. And, according to Rayburn’s story, the Forest Dale Golf Course was purchased by Salt Lake City a few years later and in 1929, the first nine holes of the Bonneville Golf Course were opened. Then, there was a lull until the 1950s when other cities jumped into the golf course business and created even more public courses.

“Television and Arnold Palmer came along and popularized the game to the point that golfers couldn't find enough places to play,” Rayburn concluded.

Utah does appear to boast having more public golf courses than most states and perhaps Bishop Nibley and even the LDS Church warrants receiving at least indirect credit for that legacy.

                        Still another Salt Lake Tribune illustration from April 22, 1900 

(-Originally published in the Deseret News on March 9, 2019.)

Alta was a synonym for avalanche in late 19th Century Utah; Plus, humor from many decades ago

                    The lower end of Little Cottonwood Canyon. 

THE most dangerous place to live in Utah during the late 19^th Century was undoubtedly Alta.

“Unhappy Alta,” “The Awful Avalanche,” “Terrible tragedy,” “Latest Alta horror,” “Alta is Swept away,” “More snowslides – Six persons killed at Alta,” “Terrible snow-slide in Cottonwood” and “Another horror.” These were all newspaper headlines from avalanche disasters in the historic mining town of Alta.

Indeed, one newspaper story called Alta “home of the avalanche.”

From 1872 to 1927, at least 87 people were killed in 14 different avalanches at Alta, according to research on digitalnewspapers.org.
(The primary reason that avalanche deaths in Alta dropped after 1927 was that the price of silver plummeted in 1927 and then this silver mining town was all but abandoned until the skiing era arrived.)

Yes, avalanches occurred in other Wasatch Mountain locations during that era. For example, the most deadly single avalanche on Feb. 27, 1926 in Bingham Canyon killed 40 people. And, other slides at Bingham had killed at least 3 others in earlier years. However, Alta had the most slides and several times the entire town was swept away.

Many animals also perished in these slides, usually mules or horses.

Here’s one example from the Deseret News of March 12, 1884: “Avalanche at Alta. Twelve people killed at New Emma Mine. The awful news reached this city yesterday of a fatal snow-slide near Alta, Little Cottonwood Canyon, in which twelve persons, nine men, two women and a boy perished.”

Here’s another from the Deseret News of Feb. 18, 1885 of a snowslide that killed 16 people: “The Alta avalanche. Further particulars of the sad catastrophe … The avalanche covered more ground that any before known in that vicinity, and its effects were far more disastrous … Of the many buildings in the main part of town, only seven were left standing.”

Why did people keep living and working the mines in Alta despite one disaster after another?

A Salt Lake Herald newspaper story from Feb. 15, 1885 (and right after the slide that killed 16) may have the best answers. It referred to the avalanche as “the same old story” and eventually states:

“The poor men and women who have been ruthlessly stricken down were not in Alta because they preferred the isolation, the discomforts and dangers of the snow-bound camp to the pleasure and safety of city homes; they were there for the same reason which induces the Swiss peasant to brave the terrors of winters in the Alps … they were there for the bread that they must have … We can honor them, for they were heroes and heroines, for they had the courage to fight nature’s battle against nature’s threatenings.”

Avalanches have historically been one of the biggest natural killers in Utah. However, the Utah Avalanche Center didn’t begin recording accidents until the post-mining decades, beginning with 1940. (The first avalanche death by a skier at Alta was in January of 1941.)
-Even today avalanches are a hallmark of Little Cottonwood Canyon, the home of Alta and Snowbird ski resorts.
Highway 210 heads up Little Cottonwood Canyon and is one of the most avalanche-prone roads in the world. That's because the 13.6-mile-long highway in the canyon crosses through 64 different avalanche paths.
Artillery is regularly used in the canyon to keep it avalanche free today. In fact, using such explosives to control avalanches had their first world-wide usage as such in Little Cottonwood Canyon during the 1940s.

-Given that heavy dose of early Alta’s grisly history, here are examples of so-called humor, as published in the Ogden Herald on Aug. 24, 1882 and on Nov. 9, 1882:

“Man proposes and the girl weighs his pocketbook and decides,” “Turf reform: mowing your lawn,” “A lady said that it takes many men a lifetime to carry a 10-dollar bill home without breaking it,” “Yellow fever: Man’s thirst for gold,” “Ingersoll says that no such man as Noah existed. He probably bases his belief on the assumption that no man would invite a pair of mosquitoes into the ark” and “The only human being that can step on a heavenward pointed tack and not say something that would cause the recording angel to weep is a mute.”

-Finally, here’s a weird occurrence that happened in Ogden on April 8, 1918 – and a full week after April Fool’s Day that year: “Eat horse meat at luncheon given at noon yesterday to local and visiting guests” was an April 9, 1918 headline in the Ogden Standard newspaper.

The Ogden Horse Sale and Commission Company hosted a luncheon for those attending a big horse sale at the Union Stock Yards. The problem was that it wasn’t announced the bologna and dried meat consumed was horse until after the luncheon. Surprisingly, the story stated that “they all agreed it was a good joke.”

-Portions of this blog were originally published in the Deseret News on Feb. 18, 2019.

Misspellings are a 'bear' for Davis County's Bair Canyon

DAVIS County has one bear of a spelling problem in one of its larger canyons. Signs, histories, newspaper articles - just about everything - still spell the canyon's name incorrectly. It isn't BAER, it's BAIR. Pioneer records prove that. Some have even misspelled the name as Bear.

Georgia W. Memmott of Bountiful, a descendant of the original namesake - John Bair - said she's been concerned over the many such misspellings in recent years. The last major misspelling took place in a Davis County hiking overview article, published in the Deseret News on Oct. 12.Her biggest gripe, though, is the major sign located at the mouth of Bair Canyon in Fruit Heights that reads: "Baer Creek Trail."

The newest United States Geological Survey Maps are finally using the correct family spelling of Bair. However, lots of older maps with the wrong spelling are still in use.

Maps began misspelling the name "Baer" because Davis County records had apparently spelled the name that way.

The "Bear" misspelling likely came because bears were once a prominent resident in the canyon, which is two narrow valleys north of Farmington Canyon. Bears ate corn left out for oxen at the canyon's original sawmill. When people heard "Bair," they likely thought of the animal.

The family's original German spelling was "Bahr," making things perhaps even more confusing.

The water flowing out of Bair Canyon is also the Bair stream.

John Bair was born in 1810 in Somerset, Pa. He was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1834, possibly by the Prophet Joseph Smith. He was also later bodyguard for Smith and then for Brigham Young. Bair came to Utah in 1850 with an ox team company.

Bair settled in the Kays Creek area of Davis County in 1853. He built the first sawmill in Davis County, near the mouth of the Fruit Heights Canyon in 1855 that's named in his honor. He made his cabin on the canyon mouth's south side and the sawmill on the north.

Indians were said to have greatly respected Bair because he knew their language well. Many Indians called him "Chief Bear John." Like Joseph Smith, Bair liked to wrestle and apparently won some Indian respect through that sport.

By 1859 he had sold the sawmill and moved to Richmond, Cache County. Bair was also known for operating the first ferry boat in Utah, during 1852, on the Bear River.

During his lifetime, Bair worked as a shoemaker, lawyer (the first in Davis County), farmer, soldier, land management agent, marshal, grist mill operator, interpreter, stock raiser, frontiersman, colonizer and pioneer.

He died at age 74 on Oct. 11, 1884, in Richmond, Cache County. He didn't accumulate wealth, but he had numerous descendants and most live in Cache County today, though there are some scattered about in Davis County - Sunset, Layton and Bountiful.

-There also used to be a dam at the bottom of Bair Canyon. This pioneer era reservoir existed until July of 1926.
According to the Salt Lake Telegram newspaper of July 8, 1926, a series of summer storms wiped out the dam. The story stated that the north wing of the dam at the mouth of Bair's Canyon went out during the first storm. By the third rain storm, the reservoir was completely destroyed "and lodged a large amount of debris along the highways and electric lines along the foothills of the Wasatch."
Note that the story did have the canyon's correct spelling as Bair. 

(-Portions of this were originally published in the Deseret News on Dec. 29, 1995.)

                              Looking down at Bair Canyon from the mountain skyline.