Karl, Ed & Billie

Now anyone who's lived in Firth during the last few decades will know about Karl, Ed, & Billie. These three were the Jenkins brothers and lived in Basalt for years. For whatever reason, all three of these grown men were mentally handicapped. They also became known as the town "characters" and many a story was passed along regarding them. Each brother had his own quirks and personality. After someone told Karl that he'd go to hell if he didn't go to church he started attending regularly. He wasn't always happy with what he heard however, and occasionally would stand up and shout "You're a damn liar!" (I suspect others in the congregation may have had similar thoughts.) You rarely saw him without a big old cigar in his mouth and he was the more intimidating of the three brothers for me.

Billie was in love with his bicycle--I never saw him without it. He was of slender build, sat with his legs crossed at the knees, and while smoking his cigarettes, often observed those around him as if they were inferior to him. He was the quieter of the three brothers and I don't remember much about him.

And then there was Ed. Now Ed and I had a personal relationship--unbeknownst to me. I worked at the Tree House when I was a teenager and Ed came into the restaurant on a frequent basis. He usually came in for a cup of coffee and some chatter. Mostly he ranted and raved about how he was "gonna get DRUNK!" Apparently that statement got a "rise" out of people so I think he said it often for that intended purpose. Being the only young girl working at the Tree House, Ed developed a crush on me. He would often order his cup of coffee, give a quarter tip to the waitress with express instructions to give this to "that other girl". I got razzed about it from my friends and co-workers. Then came Valentine's Day. Ed went all over town telling people that he had given his girlfriend "chocolates" for Valentine's Day. Girlfriend--being me! Well, I got no chocolates from Ed--nor from anyone else for that matter. But I got the teasing! A few weeks later I was talking to my Aunt Loraine and she was telling me that her best friend Wanda was surprised on Valentine's Day to open her front door and find a box of chocolates sitting on the step. Wanda had gotten MY CHOCOLATES! What's more--Wanda had eaten those chocolates. I got the razzing--Wanda got the chocolates! The only consolation I got from that situation was the knowledge that Crazy Ed had no idea where I actually lived! Thank heaven for BIG favors!

Woodward Brothers Potatoes

My mother worked in Firth as a bookkeeper working for two brothers, Jay & Glenn Woodward, at their potato packaging business. Mom always loved numbers. From the time she was a small child she loved to watch her grandfather *work the numbers* at the Dye Mercantile in Basalt--numbers fascinated her. Once I was old enough to work (age 14), she was able to secure a job for me after school and on weekends. Since my mother was widowed at age 36 I think the Woodward brothers saw this as an opportunity to help her.

I actually enjoyed the work there--it wasn't bad and the pay was good. It gave me cash to buy school clothes and other things I needed. Woodward's was located east of the railroad tracks right across from the current taxidermy shop. It consisted of several small old wooden buildings--one housed the office--the rest of them housed the equipment and machinery. Trucks loaded with potatoes would empty onto a belt which transported the spuds into a water spray for cleaning, on to another bed to be sorted and then routed to their packaging destination. That's where I came in. I stood at a hopper filled with potatoes. I pushed a button until the potatoes filled my bucket which also determined their weight. We usually filled 10# bags. If too many potatoes filled my bucket I had to throw some back until the weight was approximately ten pounds. The bags were placed on a belt behind me where another person would staple or tie the bags shut. They were then placed into a larger 50# paper bag and loaded onto a waiting railroad boxcar outside the front double doors. All of this was done manually--and with a large amount of "chatter". We often rotated positions so no one got too tired doing one thing. The first hopper naturally filled faster and was more work. We rotated down the line and then got to work behind the line stapling. This was a nice change as it could be done while sitting. Then on to "flipping" the bags into the larger paper bag. There was quite an art to getting five smaller bags into that larger one and it took a bit of practice until I could get it right. Sounds easy and it was (kind of) until we were busy and the potatoes were coming faster than we could keep up. Occasionally they would have to stop the whole operation and give us time to empty our hoppers--then on we went again. What I remember most about Woodward's was the musty, earthy smell of wet potatoes. To this day--some 45 years later--I can still smell Woodward's Potatoes and with it comes many pleasant memories. I enjoyed the people I worked with, enjoyed the work, and loved being able to see my mom during breaks and at lunchtime. Thank you Glenn and Jay--thank you so very much!

The Melba Theatre

Ok folks, this movie theatre was before my time but I feel I need to include what "little" I know about it. My mother always spoke of a theatre in Firth. It was hard for me to imagine any building large enough to provide entertainment on that level. The building was owned by Grant Collet and shared a common wall with Collet's Bar. It sat north of the bar and was in operation during the 1940's. Admission to the movies was probably about ten cents and it was a rare treat for the children in the community to be able to attend. Mr. Davis operated the Virginia Theatre in the neighboring town of Shelley. He agreed to bring movies to Firth and show them at the Melba (named after Grant Collet's wife) once they had already been viewed at the Virginia Theatre. I'm not sure how long the Melba was in operation but I know that it was not operating when I was a child in the 1950's. The building sits vacant to this day.

When I was a teenager some of my schoolmates decided that the old theatre would make a great place to hold dances. They formed a band and needed a place other than the school (too many rules and regulations) where they could rock and roll to their hearts delight! I can't honestly say they were good, but I remember they were LOUD--and they had fun. The building was "cleaned" and the old seats were removed to provide space for dancing. I went to a couple of these dances and while they were fun there was one persistent problem. The floor was slanted to accommodate movie viewing! I remember constantly having to "correct" my position on the dance floor. Everyone kept migrating to the bottom of the stage. The top half of the dance floor was conspicuously empty.

The building serves as a sad reminder of days gone by where a very active social life thrived in "downtown" Firth--wish I'd been there then!

A Business of Our Own!

My cousin Karan and I were inseparable as children--we played together, slept together, talked on the phone together, and drove our mothers crazy together. Unfortunately for my Aunt Loraine, my mother worked--which meant Loraine had us most of the time. I remember one particular day Karan and I crossed the irrigation ditch and ventured out further than we normally did. As we came up over the canal bank we saw the most spectacular field of pretty purple flowers. There were tiny purple flowers everywhere. We sat ourselves down right in the middle of them and marveled at the glorious spectacle we'd stumbled upon. Surely others would appreciate these beautiful creations if they could just see them. Then we hit upon a brilliant idea! What if we could sell the flowers? We'd be rich! We ran back to the house, grabbed my little red wagon and a couple of big spoons, and headed back to that glorious field. We dug up as many clumps of "flowered" dirt as we could fit into the wagon and headed off to sell our goods. We pulled that wagon all over the neighborhood but nobody was buying! Couldn't they see the overwhelming beauty for themselves? Apparently not. As the afternoon progressed, the wind began to blow, the dirt dried out, the flowers wilted, and our business venture came to a disappointing and dismal end. Apparently some people just have no vision!

Oolee's Burger Hut

During my childhood there was no such place as McDonald's, Burger King or Taco Bell. The nearest place to buy fast-food was Mertz' Bar in the neighboring town of Shelley. I believe we went there, hmmm . . . let me see. . . once! That all changed when one of the local boys returned from his mission to the Polynesian Islands and decided to purchase an old abandoned gas station and turn it into a "hamburger joint". I clearly remember the building "pre-Wilford Chapman". It was a run-down wooden building (located right on the corner where the current Firth Plaza now resides). There were old rusty gas pumps out front, and a "not a snowball's chance in hell" attitude! But Wilford was a fine businessman and he saw a nitch in Firth that no one else was attempting to fill. He cleaned the place up, removed the gas pumps, put in a sliding window for ordering, and he was in business! He named his new venture "Oolee's Burger Hut"--Oolee being the nick-name he acquired will serving in the Tongan Islands. Now I don't recall ever actually eating there; we just didn't have the money. But years later I worked there as a teenager. By this time Wilford had sold the business and moved on to bigger and better things. He sold to the Simpson family from Shelley and they ran the restaurant for years. I worked for June Simpson and her mother--two of the kindest, sweetest, hard-workin'-est women you'd ever want to meet.
Along with new owners, the burger joint also go a new name--The Tree House. Now the food at The Tree House was F.A.N.T.A.S.T.I.C.! They had the best french fries ever (naturally so--since we were in the heart of potato country). Each morning they'd wash, peel, and slice boxes of potatoes which then got an ice cold soak in buckets of water and stored in a fridge in the back room. They had terrific milkshakes (lime was my favorite), burgers, sandwiches, popcorn shrimp (gourment for Firth) and desserts. The thing I remember the most was the great Coca-Cola served there. Back then we measured out the coke syrup, filled it with soda water, stirred it, loaded it with ice and it was ready to go. The best Coke on the planet.
The building sported two short, L-shaped, counters with bar stools. On the south side was a very small dining room with approximately three booths and two sets of table & chairs. The Tree House managed to do a good business and was particularly busy during the lunch and dinner hours. Kids would stop in after school for some of those tasty fries with that creamy, rich fry sauce. On one wall sat an old juke box which played 45's. (For all you "sprouts"--a 45 is a small record which held only one song on each side). Sometimes, if it was slow, June would let us take dimes out of the machine and listen to music. Songs like "Abraham, Martin, & John," "I Heard it Through the Grape Vine", "Louis, Louis", and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" sounded through that small old 'gas station' while we scrubbed the place getting ready to close for the night. I've always been fortunate enough in life to have been able to secure a job when I needed one. Oolee's may not have been the best job I've ever had, but it certainly was the tastiest! Mmmm . . . I think I'm gonna go fry up some spuds!

Firth Post Office

Since Firth had a population of approximatley 400, there was no mail delivery service. Rather, there was a small old Post Office sitting right in the middle of Firth (currently the south end of Anthony's Auto Parts). It was rather unremarkable in appearance but nearly every resident in Firth visited it daily. My mother was a working woman and had little free time so she would send one of us children to retrieve the mail. Our mail box number was "Box 32" and it sat rather high in the row of mail boxes. It also had a combination lock on it which mattered not to me as I couldn't reach the mail box anyway.

The Postmaster at that time was a man by the name of Glenn Pratt. As I recall, he had white, balding hair, wore a work apron, and was a grump! Now I'm sure that family and friends of old Glenn would disagree with me--but these are my recollections and they are what they are. Glenn did not like to see the little McCracken children peeking over the top of his counter as he knew it would interfere with his reading of the daily newspaper. He deliberately rose from his chair, got our mail, tossed it on the counter with a stern "admonition" something to the effect of "Tell your mother to come and get her own mail." And that was it! I dreaded getting the mail, I knew the dialogue would always be the same, and I knew I would once again be asked to "go get the mail." Children--just pawns in the game of life, eh? (Happy Lisa?)

Collet's Bar

Now, I would never frequent such a place, but I cannot write of Firth without mentioning Collet's Bar. It was owned by a man named Grant Collet and has been doing a fine business since (don't quote me on this) the 1930's. As a child I was always afraid of the bar. If my mother sent me to post office to retrieve the mail, I had to walk right in front of Collet's. If you looked in the windows it was always dark, smelled of stale tobacco, and wasn't very appealing to me at all. I was always afraid someone was going to come walking out of there, snatch me up, and I'd never be seen again. So as I passed this fine establishment, I kept my eyes straight ahead, walked quickly, and breathed a sigh of relief when past it.

Collet's may not have been appealing to me, but others must have found it to be there home away from home. There were always cars parked in front, and the neon "OPEN" sign was always prominently displayed. Grant Collet made a mean hamburger. Since the restaurant choices in Firth were nil, if you wanted "take-out"--Collet's was it. I have to admit the burgers were good. They were the biggest hamburgers I'd ever seen, had mustard, catsup, sweet relish, and were loaded with plenty of flavorful onion slices. There was one trick to eating the hamburgers, however. You had to get the napkin off the bun, and quickly. The napkins smelled (and tasted) of stale tobacco. If you left it on the hamburger for long--you had your own personally smoked bun! I've heard it said (although I cannot confirm this), that Grant tested the heat of his grill by spitting on it. Now this scientific method has been around for years and is proven to be fail-safe! This may be why the burgers were so flavorful--Grant gave them his own "personal" touch.

It was always fun to see "who" was at Collet's. A couple of "the boys" from the neighboring town of Basalt had their driving privileges removed (not sure why). However, in the state of Idaho you may drive a tractor without a license. So each Saturday night "the boys" drove their tractors into town, parked on the south end parking lot, and had themselves a great time. Occasionally a fight would break out at the old bar & grill. I remember watching one particular fight where there was lots of punching, yelling, and kicking. The inebriated customer fought one heck of a fight--with h.i.m.s.e.l.f. It went on for quite a while--not sure who won!

Many of the farmers arrive at Collet's early in the morning for their cup of coffee and lively conversation. They discuss politics, the price of potatoes, city business, the weather, and their neighbors. Although it was never for me, Collet's has been around for a long, long time--so they must be doing something right! They've filled a "nitch" in Firth that no one else ever has. So hop on that tractor, fire up that grill, and enjoy one of the best hamburgers Firth has to offer!