My Mom And Dad Helped Start The R E A In North Idaho

This is a copy of the story that ran in the Ruralite magazine in 1985, which was after my dad had retired, but it tells the story of how my parents helped to start the Rural Electrification Association (REA) in North Idaho, and then my dad became their first lineman.
My dad worked for Northern Lights for all of his life , first in Bonners Ferry (where they lived when I was born) and later after we moved to Sandpoint , where I grew up.

Here is a picture of my dad with the first line truck, and me as a baby, and the story is in the next post.

 

The Idaho 4

by Jay Simons

The article below originally appeared in The Ruralite, May 1985.

“The farmers helped build the HighlandFlats line to get it energized the night before Christmas. Trouble was, when we turned the juice on at each farm, they wanted to celebrate by having a bottle. Some of the boys had to quit work early. When we turned on the lights at the last house, we were all tickled to death.” —Floyd Smith, first line superintendent for Northern Lights, Sandpoint, Idaho.


Floyd Smith and his wife, Winona, were no strangers to electricity when Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed the Norris/Rayburn law making loans available to rural residents through the fledgling Rural Electrification Administration. “My dad worked for the telephone company in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, and the city had power plants at Moyie,” Floyd stated. “But our farm and those of our neighbors were without power. I knew what electricity could do for the farmer, and I set out to get it.”

His wife, Winnie, had lived in San Diego where “we always had lights since I could remember. Gas lanterns? I was scared of those things, and as far as I was concerned, if a woman had to do her housework by the light of those things, she might as well stay in bed.”

Both Smitty and Winnie were committed to building the rural electric system in northern Idaho . She was 18 years of age he 21. “We did a little bit of everything, if there was a dime in it,” Winnie said. “That’s when milk was 10 cents a quart or 25 cents a gallon, and eggs sold for 12 cents a dozen.”

The Smith’s little cooperative was formed in 1935 as the Northern Idaho Rural Electrical Rehabilitation Association. “Dues were 25 cents per member, and we all put in a few to send our president, Henry E. Baseford, to Washington, D.C. to apply for an REA loan so we could build our distribution lines. It took a number of trips from Sandpoint to D.C., but they resulted in our getting one of the first REA loans in the first year of operation, out of only 11 issued. We were called the Idaho 4. Our little co-op was also the first REA Co-op west of the Mississippi and we were the first REA Co-op in the state of Idaho to get going.”

Floyd traveled from farm to farm, signing people up in Paradise Valley. “We needed to get three to four people per mile; and sometimes we didn’t have that many. There were folks who didn’t have the $1 membership fee that we charged, so I had to loan them a dollar so they could sign up. Our first residential rate on October 16, 1935 was $3 for the first 40 kWh or less,” he said.

“A lot of people were out of work there. People couldn’t even trade a cord of wood for 50 cents or for groceries then. Some folks think they are haying it bad now, but we really had a hard time then.”

It took a lot of hands to build those power lines through some pretty rough and rugged country. And Smitty was right there, working clearing timber with the brushing crew.

While her husband was signing up new members, working on the crew and putting in long hours. Winnie ran a grocery store in Sandpoint with neighbors. “We were married almost 20 years when we gave birth to our daughter, Yvonne,” Winnie said. “We never got to see Floyd when we were living on a side street in Sandpoint. The roads were not graveled, and the cars would be hub-deep in mud in the spring. Floyd stayed overnight in the office where they had a couple of bunks. Before they hired more line crewmen, he was practically running the place himself inIdaho and Montana . So I took the baby and went along with him in the line truck. It was the only way our daughter was going to get to see her father!’’

North Idaho Rehabilitation Association acquired the Sanders Electric Cooperative, Inc. .in August 1941 “We got a line truck in the deal,” Smitty said, “and I drove it. I spent a lot of time in the air and on the ground over there in Montana . But I’ll tell you, there isn’t a finer bunch of folks than those Montanans. They’d help put in poles, have you in for lunch. The roads were terrible, especially in winter, and you’d slide all over the place going 15 miles an hour. Sometimes Gerald Mott, who originally worked for the Co-op at Newport and then came down to Sandpoint as manager, went with me energizing the lines. Gerald, after 9 p.m., he’d fall asleep. One time coming back from a few day’s siege in Montana , where all we’d had was coffee to run on, Gerald said he’d take turns driving the rig home.

“He took the wheel, and almost immediately fell asleep. We missed a cow, then swerved to avoid a horse, and then nearly went into the drink in the Clark Fork River. I took the wheel; he fell asleep on the seat; and when we got back to the office in Sandpoint, I shook him and asked him when he was going to take his turn. He was a good guy, but when it got dark, he turned in.”

In the early days, trees were the Co-op’s biggest headache. When the wind blew, the lights went out. And of course, linemen are called out during the worst weather.

Folks were pretty understanding of the Co-op workers then, but now and then, they’d get a complaint. Smitty tells it his way. “Up in Priest Lake, a wind came through and tore everything to pieces. I was working with another fellow for days and nights without sleep, and nothing to eat. We got the line back on halfway through and I was bound to get it done before I headed in. My partner said he was getting weak and we should head in and get a hamburger and some coffee before going on.

“Wouldn’t you know it, but a member whose power still hadn’t been restored saw us eating at the Cafe-Bar and called Mr. Beasley, the manager of the Co-op, and told him the reason the power still hadn’t been repaired was that his linemen had spent the night in the bar drinking. Beasley knew our situation and replied that we’d been hiking through that country on snowshoes for days and nights. He’d told us to come in and get some shuteye, but we’d settled for a ham burger and coffee. Beasley ended up by telling that member to put on a pair of snowshoes and get out and help us, if he wasn’t satisfied. I appreciated that.”

Though he’s been retired now for many years, Floyd Smith is still a supporter of rural electrification and the cooperative way of doing business. “Things are different now than they were then because we had a more pioneering effort. Ours was the job of building the lines and establishing the service. Today, they are replacing the poles and beefing up what we got going. But politics has replaced the problems we had then, and if Northern Lights is going to be able to survive another 50 years, that’s where the fight is. I’m glad I can sit by the warmth of the fire and let others do my line work when it’s cold out. It’s their turn now.”

 

That's pretty cool.

Just a generation ago. A real part of history that's there every time a light switch is turned on.

I see folks hit 100 (or even some of the ages here) and marvel at all the changes they've seen. It's two completely different worlds. Yet many are so spoiled they appreciate nothing.

Regarding your mom's name (Winona)...I miss some of those names like that you don't hear much anymore. Iona is another one.

 

My grandmother came over from Germany about 1901-2, and married my grandfather, who was an orphan, raised by a German family; so I have no idea how or why they chose Winona for my mother’s middle name. Her first name was Hildegard, and that is what they called her until she grew up and got married to my dad, and after that, she went by Winnie.
My grandfather was an Indian agent in Arizona for a while, but that was after my mom was already born; so the name didn’t come from there, although my Mother always said it was an Indian name, which meant “firstborn daughter”.
Since both she and I were an only child, I guess the name was appropriate, and even though I go by Yvonne, I like Winona, too.