Excerpt
> 1 > > > > Rough and Tumble > > > > The vista that greeted Meriwether Lewis and William Clark as they trekked > through Lolo Pass was breathtaking. Leading a congressionally funded > expedition across the Bitterroot Range of the Rocky Mountains in September > 1805, they became the first known whites to admire the soaring granite > peaks and swift, cold rivers of what would later become the panhandle of > Idaho. It had taken them sixteen months to come this far, and another year > would pass before they returned to their own civilization. Meanwhile, the > Shoshone Indians who guided them through the mountains surely saw the > white men's presence as a sign that more would follow. > > More did, just a trickle, barely noticeable at first. French trappers and > missionaries arrived from Canada, giving their descriptive names to some > of the tribes, the Nez Perce and Coeur d'Alene among them. For years the > hardy trappers and devout reformers were the only newcomers to venture > into the unforgiving mountains, but other settlers were eventually drawn > by the promise of abundant resources and spectacular beauty. Then came the > Civil War, after which the westward expansion mushroomed, precipitated by > the joining of the Union Pacific and Central Pacific railroads in 1869. > The banging home of a ceremonial gold spike completed an engineering feat > that changed the Indians' ways forever--and changed the land. > > From the transcontinental railroad a network of tracks spread across the > West like a crazy web. Adventure seekers, industrialists, and immigrants > looking for the American Dream rode the rails and wagon trails to newly > accessible regions. The seekers surveyed vast regions of timber, found > gold and silver, discovered bonanzas of natural bounty; the industrialists > found ways to exploit these finds and extract the riches from the land. As > the railroads brought more people, the towns grew in proportion, requiring > ever greater quantities of lumber. > > In 1902, a trained timber estimator named Joseph Boyington left his > children in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and moved to the "stovepipe" of Idaho, > not far from the trail blazed by Lewis and Clark. The surrounding > mountains held an enormous belt of white pine, reputedly the largest stand > in the world, providing plenty of opportunity for a "timber cruiser" such > as he. If a landowner wished to sell acreage to a lumber company, > Boyington could determine how much usable timber it held, depending on the > size of trees the company wanted to log. By traversing the property at > specified distances, or "chains," and counting the trees meeting the > desired diameter, he could estimate the total board feet of lumber and > assess its value. > > The lure of opportunity brought Boyington to Dalton Gardens, a peaceful > neighborhood of small farms and apple orchards north of Coeur d'Alene. > Back in Eau Claire, he had farmed and was proprietor of a wholesale feed > and flour business in addition to estimating lumber. A wife named Hannah > had been with him at one time, though for the past fifteen years she had > not been listed as a member of his household. Of his four children, the > three youngest remained in Eau Claire to work or complete their education; > the eldest left for Evanston, Illinois, and enrolled in the school of > dentistry at Northwestern University. > > This was Charles Barker Boyington, born on August 31, 1875. He completed > his schooling in 1897, then clerked in Eau Claire until a bookkeeping job > took him to Montana for a few years. After a visit to Eau Claire, he left > again in 1902 to pursue a doctor of dental science degree. Three years > later--making him nearly thirty--he collected his diploma in a ceremony at > the Garrick Theater on Randolph Street, then left Evanston for the promise > of the West. His destination: Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, a picturesque lakeside > town on the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains, just a few miles from > his father's home. > > > > Charles Boyington did not own a horse, buggy, or riding equipment. Thus, > like most people doing business in town, he walked. Setting up his first > practice, he hung his shingle outside an office in the Dollar Block, then > equipped his workplace with the latest furniture, including a fancy dental > cabinet of dark wood. There was an autoclave for sterilizing tools, an > upright telephone with its separate earpiece, a steel cuspidor, and an > elaborate belt-driven hand tool that turned drilling and grinding > attachments. > > Soon after opening the practice, Boyington posed for a photograph beside > his barber-style dentist's chair. His short hair was neatly combed, his > face fully shaven, drawing attention to a long, straight nose and > prominent chin. In this and later photographs he did not smile widely > enough to show his own teeth, though his broad mouth had an amicable turn > at the corners. > > Within a few years his practice was earning a handsome income of about > $300 per month--this during a time when a new three-room house on five > acres outside town could be bought for $500. Charles put his money into > property, purchasing a house on West Foster Avenue, and later mortgaging > two more lots with a dwelling on Eleventh Street. Considering the value of > the properties and the small lien on his expensive dental equipment, he > had already accumulated a respectable net worth. > > Such a successful dentist would have been considered a catch for the > eligible ladies of Coeur d'Alene, but there was the stigma of divorce: > Boyington had been married briefly to heavyset Maude Poore in Montana, a > failed union that produced no children. He maintained a low profile for > several years, then, at the age of thirty-six, applied for a license to > marry Grace Barnhardt Gregory, a twenty-three-year-old with long, dark > tresses who had recently arrived in Coeur d'Alene. If his decision seemed > impulsive to some, at least the age disparity was nothing new; at about > the same time, the county clerk signed a permit for a forty-two-year-old > woman to wed a codger of sixty-eight. > > > > Grace may have simply turned his head. She was full figured, with round > cheeks that dimpled when she flashed a bright smile. She wore her long > hair piled high, in the current style, and was accustomed to fashionable > dresses. > > Her story began in Monticello, a small crossroads in eastern Iowa, where > she was born on January 11, 1888. She was the youngest of six children > raised by burly, mustachioed William Gregory and his wife, Ellen. Grace > was eight when they moved to Mitchell, South Dakota, where William worked > as a road master for the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad. > Misfortune visited the Gregorys in 1901 when fifteen-year-old John was > killed accidentally by gunfire at a local shooting gallery; more turmoil > followed when William junior divorced his wife. Another son, Forrest, died > in 1908 of peritonitis. > > Despite the tragedies, or perhaps because of them, Grace was animated, > cavorting with a large group of friends. The young ladies wore full-length > skirts and high-collared blouses, the young men dressed as dandies. She > was a racy teen, sneaking with friends behind the Corn Palace to smoke and > probably drink. A talented pianist, in her late teens she traveled some > nine hundred miles to enter the music program at a "normal school," the > equivalent of a teachers' college, in Detroit, Michigan. The curriculum at > the Thomas Normal Training School prepared her for a career in music > education, but instead of teaching, she worked in theaters after her 1909 > graduation, providing piano accompaniment to motion pictures before the > advent of the "talkies." > > Evidently she had been hired to play in Coeur d'Alene, either at the Rex > Theater or some saloon, when she met Charles Boyington sometime after > 1910. They appeared at the courthouse for a marriage license on December > 27, 1911, then wasted little time once the union was approved. A > traditional church wedding would have been unsuitable because of Charles's > divorce, so they stood before justice of the peace Roger Wearne, a boarder > at Wolf Lodge. The ceremony was performed on New Year's Day 1912, with > Florence and Fred Tiffany (Grace's sister and brother-in-law) as > witnesses. There is no indication that anyone else attended. > > Charles bought Grace a piano on credit for five dollars a month, and they > lived comfortably on his income, but whatever matrimonial bliss they > enjoyed was brief. Grace was pregnant by early March, after which a > terrible change apparently came over Charles. One night, according to > Grace, Charles shoved her into a corner with his fist, then grabbed both > her wrists and twisted them while calling her "all sorts of vile and > vulgar names." He did not strike her again during the pregnancy, but the > verbal abuse continued, "so often," she claimed, "that it would be almost > impossible for anyone to remember." > > There was little joy for the expectant mother when she reached full term > in early December 1912. Snow covered the ground during the first few days > of the month, followed by rain on the fourth, a Wednesday. The temperature > climbed into the low forties, turning the streets into a quagmire. > Fortunately, Grace did not have to be concerned about whether a midwife or > attendant could reach her on this dreary day; she had a bed at the Coeur > d'Alene Hospital. > > At five o'clock, under the glow of newly installed electric lights, Grace > gave birth to a healthy ten-pound son. Delivery and recovery were > evidently normal for both mother and child. > > The next morning their tranquility was shattered by the alarm of two dire > emergencies. The first patient was a railroad brakeman, who suffered > broken bones and a severe head injury after falling from a freight car. > Barely two hours later an ambulance arrived with Hans Ostensen, crushed > beneath a pile of rubble when his haberdashery suddenly collapsed. Brought > in on a stretcher, he died a few hours later. > > The little boy's birth, overshadowed by the drama of injury and death, was > announced on an inside column of the Evening Press. The baby was as yet > unnamed. Grace later gave him her maiden name, Gregory, with or without > Charles's participation. > > > > What should have been a cheerful time was but a minor distraction for the > couple's imploding marriage. Within three weeks of Grace's discharge from > the hospital, Charles began spending his evenings away from home, rarely > returning before midnight, if at all. In April, when Gregory was four > months old, Charles accused his wife of "having intimate relations with > other men," identifying them by name, and proclaimed that he was not the > baby's father. Throughout the spring and summer of 1913 he did not > physically abuse his wife, but that streak ended in November. Charles > stumbled home drunk at three o'clock one morning, cursing with a tirade he > repeated often, calling her a "damned bitch" and "damned whore." He > grabbed her arms, squeezing until his fingers left bruises visible for > weeks. Grace later named specific dates for other beatings, including a > violent episode five days before Christmas when Charles knocked her down, > pinned her to the floor with his knee, and slapped her. He was ashamed of > her, she said, and never took her out in public. Often the baby's crying > would elicit outbursts of rage against both mother and child. When she > nursed Gregory, Charles called her a sow. He moved out of the house for > good the following June, a small gesture since the couple had been > separated for the better part of a year. > > > > Gregory showed that he was already something of a climber during the > summer of 1914. Playing in Grace's bedroom with some of her combs and > brushes one day, he ended up on the sill of an open window. Looking down > at the ground below, he decided that he "could make it in the air" and > jumped out. "I hadn't learned the law of gravity yet," he later said of > the experience. Grace found him lying in a flower bed, momentarily > stunned, but he got back on his feet after she brushed him off. > > The tumble might have been fondly remembered, but his parents' marriage > was nowhere near as resilient as his head. On August 14, Charles visited > each of the banks in Coeur d'Alene and arranged for them to refuse credit > to Grace, then he contacted several in Spokane and relayed the same > instructions. The following day, he went to the Foster Avenue house and > tried to coerce her into packing her trunk and returning to South Dakota. > She took the initiative instead, saying she had been "reliably informed" > that Charles was associating with other women. One of them, in fact, was a > neighbor, and Grace decided to call the woman into the yard. Charles > became outraged, but Grace called the neighbor anyway. A loud row ensued > in the yard separating the houses, with Charles screaming threats at his > wife and the neighbor. Nothing more came of it, except that everyone > realized the marriage was done for. > > On the nineteenth Charles paid for a public announcement in the Evening > Press: "I hereby notify all parties that from this date I will not be > responsible for any debts contracted by my wife, Grace B. Boyington." The > following day, she hired an attorney and filed a detailed complaint along > with a request for divorce. > > Charles hired his own lawyer, and, at the divorce proceedings, produced a > love letter Grace had written (but apparently not mailed) to one Ellsworth > Hallenbeck, a "young man of Spokane." Their affair had begun in the > spring, claimed Charles, when they held "clandestine, lascivious, and lewd > meetings" in Coeur d'Alene and other communities. Grace had also > entertained different men in the Foster Avenue house in early June, during > which they furnished "intoxicating liquors." His proof was her letter to > Hallenbeck, written the day after, in which she described being "piffled" > during the party. > > > > We expected father [Charles] to walk in every minute and find us in our > sad plight. The boys had their hats in hand ready to fly when they heard > the latch key turn. But thanks to our luck, father didn't turn up until > twelve, and his little "wuf" was sound asleep and snoring when he climbed > in. > > > > Whether or not she actually committed adultery, another portion of her > letter to Hallenbeck left little doubt about her intentions. "One question > I would ask of you loved one--have you feather beds and no bed bugs in > your apartment? I'm used to one and not the other." In addition to the > damning letter, Charles claimed that she subsequently visited Hallenbeck > in his Spokane apartment. She mustered a weak excuse in court, calling the > letter a joke written at the urging of a friend, but offered no other > defense against the allegations. > > The claims, complaints, and countercomplaints continued for months, until > finally at ten o'clock on March 4, 1915, the judge presented the final > decree. The marriage ended with a whack of his gavel, but the court > appearance was only a formality. Days earlier, both parties had signed the > judge's stipulations regarding disposition of property and custody of the > baby. Grace was awarded custody of her son, the house on Foster Avenue, > and its furniture. Charles kept everything else, including the house on > Eleventh Street and the right to visit Gregory "at any time during > reasonable hours." He paid fifty dollars to fulfill a temporary alimony > award, after which he was under no further obligation to Grace or the boy. > Evidently, his documentation of Grace's affair had the desired effect on > the judge, who took a dim view of her behavior and refused to grant > continued alimony. >