Adams County Makes the News - Council Leader #26

The Adams County Leader
Published Every Friday by the Council Publishing Company. 
Eighty-nine per cent of the stock of the above company
is owned by F.H. Michaelson.
F. H. Michaelson Editor and Manager

September 5, 1919
DON’T DO IT

As a result of the disastrous fire season this summer, and as further precaution against the starting of other fires, the secretary of agriculture has for the month of September extended a regulation, heretofore applying only in California, making it unlawful to build a camp fire in the national forests of Idaho and Washington without a permit from a forest officer.  Violation of the order subjects an offender to a fine of up to $5,000 or ten months in a tomb of reflection, or both.


September 5, 1919
FIRST OF ITS KIND

On Sunday a local fisherman caught a carp in the Weiser River below town, probably the first fish of that species ever taken up from the river in these parts.  It is presumed that the water scarcity of the lower country has caused the carp to follow the riverbed upwards in the hope of finding a wet spot; or, mayhap, the one caught had been trailing Sunday’s excursion train with intent to steal bait from the amateur anglers thereon.


July 4, 1919
SALMON CAUGHT IN WEISER RIVER

While fishing in the Weiser River just below town last Sunday, Pat Adams caught a salmon trout that weighed eight pounds, the biggest reported this season.  He used light tackle and spent about an hour at the task of landing the beauty.  While the job was a good one, it was really rather mean of Pat because he knew that the publisher of this prevaricator was wading the river from Fruitvale down in order to get that fish cornered near the bridge so we would not need to carry it all the way.  Just when we had the trout hungry and tired, Pat dropped down to the bridge and grabbed it on a fly hook.

December 19, 1919
CONCERNING COUNCIL’S SCHOOL BOND ELECTION

There will be a school bond election at Council tomorrow, Saturday, afternoon.  It is up to the people of District No. 25 to DO SOMETHING.  What are you going to do?

Since practically all citizens are familiar with the unmodern condition of Council school buildings and their inadequacy to the community’s present and prospective needs, we venture into no discussion of the subject farther than to suggest that each citizen take an interest in the election at least to the extent of voting his, or her, convictions.  We have sufficient faith in the intelligence and intent of our neighbors to believe that their combined judgment, whatever individual preference may be, will be sound if an approximately full vote is recorded. 

That Council must, in justice to itself, improve the physical facilities of its schools goes without saying.  We suggest that if there are persons who are in doubt as to the merit of the plans proposed, they go direct to the office of the Clerk of the Board and ask to see the plans and specifications.  Any conclusion based upon random street rumor may later prove to have been poorly founded.  Hence, neighbor, if you are willing to assist in providing adequate school quarters for your children, get out and record your convictions.  If you consider school equipment a needless luxury, you will be privileged to vote in the negative.
 
March 21, 1919
IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS

I am going to recount an incident that occurred here more than twenty years ago, and I trust it will tend to make those who criticize our roads and transportation facilities more appreciative and contented with what we now have.

In the good old days of long ago, before the advent of the railroad, we were under the necessity of transporting all our goods and machinery form Weiser by wagon, a distance of sixty miles; and such roads!  No bridges, no grading, and in the spring, no bottom to any of it.  Always at about this time of year, it became the painful duty of someone to go after a load of freight; and you can imagine what kind of sport it would be.

The time of which I speak was an exceedingly rainy year, and in March the roads were in such condition as would mire a “saddle blanket.”  It was while this state of affairs was on that Frank Shelton, now at Bear, Idaho, pulled into the Valley.  Frank was a teamster and freighter, and a good one; and although he had no load, he had nevertheless dragged the axle all the way from Weiser.  His opinion of the roads registered zero, and he decided to express himself, and further stated that there was no team of four horses in the Valley that could pull one ton without getting stuck and requiring assistance to get out of the thousand and one mud holes. 

This notorious explosion of Frank’s was made in the one little store that Council then boasted of, owned by John O. Peters and Isaac McMahan.  The official freighter for Peters & McMahan was Olaf Sorenson, who was known as the best teamster in the country, and who owned a four-horse team that would pull anything loose at one end.  Peters stated that he was satisfied that Sorenson could bring a ton through; Shelton thought differently and said he would bet one hundred dollars that no four-horse team could do it.  Peters’ faith in Sorenson was such that he at once “plunked down” the one hundred dollars and the bet was on. 

Next day they started for Weiser—Isaac McCMahan, Olaf Sorenson, Frank Shelton and a few others, to see the fun.  Shelton insisted that the lines be taken from Sorenson and given to McCMahan, although McCMahan was unacquainted with the team, but it was finally arranged that he would drive.  Now, “Mack” was to pull one ton from Weiser to Council and was not to take more than three pulls in any one place.  Well, you should have seen the fun!  If ever a team covered itself with glory, it was on this occasion.  The roads were almost impassable; time and again both axles were dragging in mud and it would look like it was all off; but after three days of heart-breaking work “Mack” made it thorough and won the bet.  I doubt if any other team in the county could have done it.

Such were the conditions then.  Compare them to those of today.  Nevertheless, we all had good times—going to dances and spelling schools—and did not think much of it.

M. P. Gifford

compiled by Eberle Umbach

"GOING HOME"

[L.E. Leone herein examines questions of travel]

Going Home

The road was washed out
The road looped around
Branches in the road
The road was roadblocked
Narrow, land-slided away
Dropped off, climbed straight up

The road was familiar
The road was brand new, paved
Dirt road, moose in the road
The road just ended
The road went on and on and on
I was not on the road

L.E. Leone
© 2010

“Visions of Johanna”

It’s time for another Musical Monday on Robert Frost’s Banjo, & that means another Bob Dylan cover—I’m featuring Dylan songs this month on Monday mornings.

I’ve always had the highest admiration for Dylan’s 1966 release, Blonde on Blonde.  Musically & lyrically, it’s a high achievement, & has been justifiably praised as one of the best rock albums ever released.  Dylan himself likes the album—according to journalist Jules Siegel, who was present when Dylan first listened to the initial pressing, Dylan exclaimed, "Now that is religious music! That is religious carnival music. I just got that real old-time religious carnival sound there, didn't I?" 

Obviously, Blonde on Blonde, like its precursor, Highway 61 Revisited, is of great interest to anyone who likes blues music, since Dylan performed a masterful transformation of the blues in the music on both albums.  But today’s song is one of the least blues-based numbers on Blonde on Blonde.  Interestingly, Dylan proclaimed it his favorite song on the album.  I’ve always loved “Visions of Johanna.”  There’s something stark & haunted & true about the song, even when the lyrics occasionally seem mean-spirited, as in parts of the “museum” verse.

I’m playing slide style on my Gold Tone dobro, tuned as always to an open D chord; I did capo this one, so the actual key is Eb.  Hope you enjoy it!

Photo of the Week 12/12/10

Old Farmhouse in Snowstorm

Indian Valley, Idaho

Saturday, December 11th

Old Time Holiday Train #2

Happy Saturday, folks!  The Old Time Holiday train is pulling into the station (just a bit behind time) with two more great tunes for your enjoyment.

Critic Greil Marcus wrote about Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music as portraying the “weird old America.”  Today’s two examples are definitely from that same place, tho neither song is found on the Anthology (Dock Boggs, who performs “Danville Girl” is found on two songs on Smith’s magnum folk opus, however). 

In old-time music, we often hear about “modal” songs—songs that are built less on the harmonic structure of chord changes & more on the use of a certain scale.  In particular the modal songs tend to use either a variation of the minor scale called the “Dorian mode” (what Pete Seeger called “mountain minor” in reference to a banjo tuning used for playing in this mode) & the “Mixolydian mode,” which is a more or less major scale with one tone altered.  If you have a piano, you can hear an example of the Dorian mode by starting on a D note & playing all the white notes in ascending order until you reach the next D; you can hear an example of the Mixolydian mode by starting on a G note & then playing all the white notes in ascending order until you reach the next G.

What may not be quite as well known is that the blues also ventured into modal territory, particularly in the Mississippi Delta & environs, & particularly in the hands of slide guitar players.  While we tend to think of blues songs having a very defined chord structure (the “12 bar blues”), in fact a fair number of early blues songs relied much less on those changes & only hinted at them.  On to the songs themselves!

Dock Boggs: Danville Blues (1927)

Dock Boggs was an extraordinary banjoist & singer who made some records for Brunswick back in the 1920s.  He sang with a raw emotion & urgency that really seems to come from some weird old world, & his style of 3-finger banjo picking was intricate & beautiful.  As with many of the old-timers, Boggs used banjo tunings that accomodated his music’s modal character.  For “Danville Girl,” he tuned the banjo to #fDGAD, a series of open string notes that allow him to hover between major & minor modes.  If you know the song “Danville Girl” from its later major chord incarnations, you won’t even recognize this version. 



King Solomon Hill: The Gone Dead Train (1932)

Not very much is known about King Solomon Hill.  He was born Joe Holmes in 1897 (at least that’s generally accepted, tho it’s not certain), & took his later stage name from his address in Mississippi: King Solomon Hill Baptist Church.  We do know that his playing was memorable & powerful, tho unfortunately he left behind only 8 tracks (a total of six songs, with two takes each of “Whoopee Blues” & “Down on Bended Knee”); we do know that the tracks were recorded for Paramount in Grafton, WI in 1932. 

Hill played slide style guitar & favored the open D tuning (in other words, the 6 strings of the guitar, when unfretted, will sound a D major chord).  Because of the way open tunings typically work on a guitar, however, it’s pretty easy to make the sound drift between major & minor in true bluesy fashion.  As far as the guitar part goes, Hill essentially stays on the D chord throughout, & any hints at chord changes come thru in the vocal & chord fragment riffs.

You may be interested to know that King Solomon Hill used a cow bone as a slide!

Winter Landscape

Tout était comme dans une image enfantine
Robert Desnos


it was all as if underwater: indigo
magpie
              white white sky the coralline
sagebrush spiky with hoarfrost a copy of
Bettleheim’s The Uses of Enchantment un-
opened on a maple nightstand
a chrome guitar’s rattle &
whine behind a glass door
              a green tinsel “Happy
Holidays” banner strung between streetlights

you can never set foot in the same room twice
a sea-change
              the implacably lonesome Sonoma
coast March 1988 a Winston cigarette in Virginia’s
Valentine’s Day rain 1986
              the creamsicle sunlight in
Malibu May 2000
today’s pale headlights at noon a
sea-change a
              bass clarinet intoning “Full
Fathom Five” meditative but stolid
hope against hope
                      6 of one
will you go home for Xmas
will you go
will you go home

plastic dinosaurs an overdue
credit card statement you placed a
red leather bookmark between the pages of
The Complete Lewis Carroll &
forgot it
              a naked cottonwood a silver
hay tarp like coming awake unsure where you are

Jack Hayes
© 2010

Writers Talk with Tess Kincaid (aka "Willow")

Tess Kincaid aka “Willow” is a self-proclaimed magpie, poet, Hoosier by birth, who lives in small town Ohio at Willow Manor, a ramshackle limestone house on the banks of the Scioto River, with her husband and resident ghosts. She stumbled into the blogosphere on a whim one gray February day and her life hasn’t been the same since.  Feel free to stop by and pay her a visit at Life at Willow Manor.  

I'd just like to add that if you want to put together a successful blog, Life at Willow Manor would be a great model to use.  Tess has assembled a blog that is always diverting to read & is always a visual pleasure as well.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tess last spring during a cross-country road trip, & I must say that the good spirit found in her blog presentation is also abundantly there when you meet her in person.  Finally, please don't forget to check out the Writers Talk blog, where you'll find a set of three poems by Ms Kincaid!


When did you first realize your identity as a writer?
 
Poetry has always been an integral part of me.  My earliest memories are of my grandmother reading the delightful Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley.  As a precocious colt-legged girl, I adored memorizing little pieces for “show and tell”.  Fascinated with the rhythm and textures of words, I read poetry aloud to a captive audience, my youngest sister and her stuffed animals.  It became a delicious habit, which I imposed on my closest friends, and later, my husband and children.  It wasn’t until a year or so ago, waking up one day in an empty nest, that I began to write my own poetic tools of torture. Only in recent months has it occurred to me, that I am, indeed, a poet; a curious, sadistic notion.

Describe your creative process.

I am a collector, a magpie at heart.  I keep several notebooks handy to jot down words and phrases that tickle my fancy.  Sometimes an entire poem will come to me in that wonderful semi-lucent space, just before waking, and other times the process is like digging a trench.  Most of my inspiration comes from my macro views of the mundane.

Could you describe your relationship to the publishing process?

Since I am a fairly new writer, I am currently sending my first chapbook manuscript out for publication, a process which I’ve found is not for the faint of heart.  It is, however, a huge encouragement to know hundreds are currently reading my poetry posted via my blog, Life at Willow Manor.

How has being a writer affected your relationships?
 
My husband and adult children have been my personal cheerleaders, but many of my friends and extended family don’t really “get” me, as a poet. I’ve learned to skirt the subject, if I throw out the word “poetry” and it lands like a dead fish on the coffee table.

How would you describe the community of writers you belong to?

It’s exciting to be part of a virtual “Bloomsbury” community of talented poets and writers. The immediate feedback and rapport is tremendously supportive. Last February, I started a creative writing group blog, Magpie Tales, which has been the impetus for much of my writing. 

What are your future goals in terms of writing?

My current goal is to procure a publisher for my poetry.  I also have a rough outline for an autobiographical novel, actually more biography than novel, since truth is often stranger than fiction.

Bonus question:  If your writing were a musical instrument, what would it be?

A button accordion, since my writing is small and quirky.