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| Tattered, taped, falling apart. |
You have perhaps seen most of this post in previous years. It started as a favorite passage from
Big Trouble,
chapter one, and is now a collection of excerpts, beginning during the
holidays in Caldwell, Idaho, December of 1905. This year I decided to do it in two parts and will post the 2nd installment on or about December 30th.
Some passages are not be in the same order they appear in the book and
additional text/photos may have been added. No doubt I will keep correcting and messing with
it from time to time.
From
Big Trouble - A Murder in a Small Western Town Sets Off a Struggle for the Soul of America:
"The community's general air of well-being was reflected in the bustling
jollity of Caldwell's holiday festivities, formally ushered in on
Saturday, December 23, with Christmas exercises at three downtown
churches. The most impressive were those at the Presbyterian Church, the
house of worship that attracted many of Caldwell's leading citizens.
Belle Steunenberg
had stood proudly among its founders, a teacher in its Sunday School, a
doyenne of the congregation, a community leader 'jeweled with Christian
graces,' until her inexplicable defection to Caldwell's tiny
eight-member Adventist Church when it was inaugurated a year before—an
act of such breathtaking betrayal it had left a strong residue of
resentment in the front pews."
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| Frank |
"To assuage some of the bitterness among Belle's former congregation,
the governor still attended an occasional Presbyterian service, though
without much enthusiasm. He once confessed to a friend that 'his church
attendance, he feared, was prompted more by anticipation of an
intellectual treat than spiritual improvements. He had to concede that
the Presbyterians knew how to put on a show. That Saturday, the adult
choir's 'Joy to the World' had been followed by songs from the youngest
congregants, including a solo by the governor's niece, Grace Van
Wyngarden, still pale from her bout with typhoid; a 'Rock of Ages'
pantomime by Mrs. Stone's class, the young ladies dressed as the
heavenly host, all in gold and silver, with wings sprouting from their
shoulders; and finally the smallest child of all, Gladys Gordon, singing
a 'rock-a-bye' with the aplomb of a prima donna and 'a clear, sweet
voice that sounded to the roof.'"
"Then a portly member, dressed as Santa Claus, pulled up in a sleigh and
taking his traditional position in the choir loft, delivered a gay,
bantering speech. 'Have all you children been good this year?' he asked
to squeals of affirmation. Descending to the foyer, Santa opened his
sack, tossing out green net bags tied up with crimson yarn, each
containing candy, nuts, and a bright golden orange. All this in the glow
of an admirable balsam—which the congregation's men had cut in the
crisp air of the Owyhee Mountains—now dressed out in cardboard angels
and colored balls and illuminated this year, for the first time, by
genuine electric lights."
"For the next few days, he (Harry Orchard) tried to get a fix on the
ex-governor's schedule. He didn't catch up with him until Christmas day,
when he saw him with his family on his way to his brother A.K.
Steunenberg's house for the holiday dinner."
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| Although now divided up into apartments, at least the stately mansion survives. |
“At noon on Christmas Day, the governor and Belle attended the
traditional family dinner at A. K.’s house. The hustling young
entrepreneur and his family occupied an imposing Colonial Revival
mansion, its great front portico supported by three Tuscan columns,
approached by a new cement sidewalk on North Kimball Avenue, where the
city’s 'quality' clustered in the lee of the Presbyterian Church.”
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| James & Estella Cupp Munro |
"Although Frank, A.K. and their wives certainly ranked among Caldwell's
first families, they were less self-assured than they appeared. In a
town that had long cherished the notion of unrestrained opportunity, the
uncomfortable specter of social class reared its head. When James
Munro, a clerk in the Steunenberg bank, married Estella Cupp, the eldest
daughter of the town's most prominent real estate broker, the Tribune
called them 'the popular young society people'—a frank recognition that a
'smart set' was coalescing in this nominally egalitarian community. A
Young Man's Dancing Club invited the socially active young people to
occasional soirees at Armory Hall."
"Some of Caldwell's new elite never quite felt they belonged.
During a prolonged stay in the nation's capital,
Frank Steunenberg shied away from the fashionable dinner parties to
which he was invited. 'Why,' he told a friend more eager than he to see
how the smart set lived, 'to accept one of these invitations means the
wearing of an evening costume and what a pretty figure I would cut!'"
"A.K. Steunenberg had a thick sheaf of credentials. But consider his
reaction as a guest of Bob and Adell Strahorn, the most worldly members
of Caldwell's inner circle, at their summer home in northern Idaho. 'You
can imagine my consternation when I 'butted' into a regular dress suit
card party,' A.K. wrote his wife. 'I was the only one who did not wear a
white front and a claw hammer. And to make matters worse they played a
game called 500 I think I had never played before. Being like a fish out
of water anyhow that did not tend to give me any reassurance...I sailed
in and got through without making any very bad breaks or spilling my
coffee. The ladies were perfectly lovely and seemed to try and relieve
my embarrassment and I guess the men did too...The main theme of
conversation at the card party was the help problem...not being able to
procure help of any kind.'"
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| Bernardus Steunenberg |
“None of these insecurities could be detected
that Christmas afternoon as a gracious A.K. welcomed the boisterous
clan beneath his portico. No fewer than thirty Steunenbergs gathered around the heavily laden table, headed by
seventy-two year old patriarch, Bernardus,
a shoemaker by trade, a Mexican War veteran who’d come west from Iowa
to join his children earlier that year. Seven of his ten offspring
were there that afternoon: five sons—Frank; A.K.;
Pete, the most raffish of the brothers, a part-time printer who sometimes dealt cards at the
Saratoga; Will and John, lifelong bachelors and partners in a shoe store (“Fitters of Feet,” they called themselves) just behind the
Saratoga—and two daughters—Elizabeth (“Lizzie”), married to
Gerrit Van
Wyngarden,
a Caldwell contractor who’d built both Frank’s house and the new
Caldwell Banking and Trust building, and Josephine (“Jo”), at
thirty-four still unmarried, who made a home for John, Will, and
Bernardus
at her commodious house on Belmont Street, while finding time to
repair Franks’ shirts as well. The “plump” and jolly” A.K. played Santa
at his own festivities, distributing elaborately wrapped gifts to all
the children.”
"'After it got dark, I (Orchard) went up to his residence and took a
pump shotgun with me and thought I would try to shoot him when he was
going home...I was there an hour or so before I heard him coming home,
and he came soon after I got up there but he got in the house before I
got my gun together.'"
What we now know would be the
final family gathering on Christmas that would include Frank, was
fortunately not tainted by this bungled assassination attempt on
Christmas day—yes, even the ex-governor walking home with his family on
Christmas day did not dissuade the beast from trying to slay its prey.
JTR
(Rest of the story will post on or about December 30th).
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