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City Cast Boise

People, places, and scenes from Boise's past.

Indigenous People’s Day is approaching, offering an extra incentive to learn how the land we call home was colonized. As one state Senator showed during a candidate forum in 2024, many Idahoans could use the education.

Republican incumbent Sen. Dan Foreman reportedly yelled at Trish Carter-Goodheart, a Native American candidate for the state House of Representatives, to 

“go back where she came from” after she insisted that racism exists

 in Idaho. While Foreman’s outburst at Carter-Goodheart happened in North Idaho, the incident shines a light on how a denial of history and genocide has been allowed to thrive — not just in remote small towns, but throughout our state.

Who is Indigenous to the Treasure Valley?

Today, the peoples indigenous to the Boise valley are known as the Burns Paiute of Oregon, the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs of Oregon, the Fort McDermitt Paiute and Shoshone of Nevada, the Shoshone-Paiute Tribe of Idaho and Nevada, and the Shoshone-Bannock of Idaho.

While non-Native Americans often call themselves “native,” it’s important to note that white Idahoans can claim at most a handful of generations who’ve lived here. People in the tribes listed above, however, have lived here for dozens of generations, and have a completely different relationship to the land.

Miners found gold in the Boise Basin in 1862, and within a year,

, on the present-day grounds of the Veterans Affairs Hospital. The original Fort Boise was built where Parma is today by the Hudson’s Bay Company in 1834 and was abandoned in 1854.

In 1863, Caleb Lyon — the territorial governor of Idaho — helped draft the 

 for the Shoshone people in the Boise valley to sign. The treaty ceded a majority of their ancestral land in the valley, but reserved a share of fisheries and tracts of land 30 miles on either side of the Boise River for the Shoshone.

, meaning it has no legal standing and making the Treasure Valley unceded land. The Shoshone Nation argues that they still have a claim to it, because legally, they never gave it up.

By 1869, tensions had built between white settlers and the Indigenous tribes of the area. A reservation for the Shoshone-Bannock people had been established in eastern Idaho, the current-day Fort Hall Reservation.

The U.S. Army sent cavalry forces to the Boise valley, and forcibly removed families and forced them to march east. They reported no accidents, or casualties — but 

 indicates that dozens of people either died in the icy conditions or were killed by the military.

Shoshone-Paiute Tribes of the Duck Valley Reservation in Owyhee County

 allied with Bannock people in a war against the U.S. military, and were forced either onto the current-day Duck Valley Reservation, or into a prisoner of war camp in Yakima, Washington.

In 1990, the Boise Zoning and Planning Commission was planning a development on Eagle Rock, which settlers called Castle Rock. This land — in the Boise foothills near the Old Penitentiary — was a sacred area, with numerous burial sites.

Shoshone-Bannock Tribes, still maintaining an ancestral connection to the land, 

 to the development, saying that after such a dark history of violence, “Now, you wish to build on the graves of our ancestors … Leave our people at peace in their own land.”

After the tribes spoke out and were joined by the East End Neighborhood Association in 

, the project was stopped. The Castle Rock Reserve was also renamed the Chief Eagle Eye Reserve in honor of a Shoshone leader whose people lived near Weiser.

In 2017, then-Boise Mayor David Bieter declared June 8 to be 

. Annually, members of the five nations and tribes that originally inhabited the valley gather to honor their ancestors and reconnect to the land they were removed from.

A recent outburst from North Idaho Sen. Dan Foreman shows why many Idahoans need to reckon with the state's Indigenous and colonial history.

This Indigenous Peoples’ Day, Learn How the Boise Valley Was Colonized

A Brief History of Colonization in the Treasure Valley (Ahead of Indigenous People's Day)

Boise History

Long before police escorted Pride parades, corporations signed checks for Boise Pride, and internationally famous drag artists flew into town for the weekend, LGBTQ Boiseans and Idahoans were sharing their pride. These six images, almost all from the early 1990s, in Boise State University’s Special Collections and Archives show a history louder than words.

The archivists at Boise State University’s Albertsons Library have all my thanks for providing these images, especially Alex. Thank a librarian today!

A Pride parade going through downtown Boise in June 1993. The sign in the foreground reads: “My sign is prettier than yours!” (

 / Boise State University Library, Special Collections and Archives)

By the 1990s, many faith organizations took an active part in Pride in Boise. One sign in this parade reads: “Idaho Voices of Faith for Human Rights: By Our Understanding Our Hearts Are Opened.” (

A sign hanging above Idaho Street reads: “A Family of Pride - Gay and Lesbian Freedom Day - June 12th, 1993”. The pink triangle was originally used by Nazis to mark gay and trans people, and the black triangle marked Roma and Sinti people, as well as sex workers and others, but were reclaimed later in the 20th century largely by the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP). (

LGBTQ community members and their allies rallied to oppose Proposition 1 in 1994, which was an initiative to prohibit governments from granting minority anti-discrimination protections to queer people. It also would have moved books including LGBTQ representation into adult only sections of public libraries. The LGBTQ community won at the ballot, marking a significant and somewhat surprising victory. (

I can proudly testify that queer people continue the tradition of picnicking and playing volleyball in the Municipal Park (now Kristin Armstrong) 40 years later. (

Long before police escorted Pride parades, corporations signed checks for Boise Pride, and internationally famous drag artists flew into town for the weekend, LGBTQ Boiseans and Idahoans were sharing their pride.

Boise Pride Through the Years, in Historical Images

A Visual History of Pride in Boise 

This weekend, Boiseans will celebrate Labor Day by sleeping in, going camping, enjoying the last weekend of summer, and generally doing their own thing. But 110 years ago, many Boiseans spent Labor Day near the Natatorium, enjoying the day off — but also marshalling power for worker’s unions.

The Boise Newspaper You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

Those Labor Day festivities were enthusiastically reported by 

The Gem Worker and the Idaho Labor Herald

, a newspaper that published relatively briefly, from August 1913 to January 1917.

During those Industrial Era years, trade unions were very popular and prioritized communicating to the public through newspapers. Where there was a chapter of the American Federation of Labor, they tried to sprout a newspaper.

The editor of the Gem Worker was John Alden, who frequently clashed with the American Federation of Labor. 

According to the Idaho State Historical Society

, he believed “that as long as the laborers were provided good wages and safe working conditions, employers were free to pursue profits,” while the national network believed every Labor newspaper had the responsibility of painting employers as “‘nothing more than a flea on the laborer’s back.’”

Alden worked with the local American Federation of Labor chapter, however, and the state and local chapters. The local chapter — the Boise Trades and Labor Council — is the same as today’s 

Alden was also the namesake of a downtown building at 10th and Main, 

which was renovated and renamed after its new tenant

The newspaper’s front pages are viewable on the 

, and on record at the Idaho State Historical Society, University of Idaho, and Idaho State University.

What Were Labor Organizers Talking About in the 1910s?

People still had fun on Labor Day in 1915

. Organizers of the local trade council held the Labor Day festivities at White City Amusement Park, which had a nearly half mile long wooden rollercoaster, a train to the Natatorium (

There were pushmobile races, foot races (the prize for which was a box of cigars), a women’s nail-driving competition, an apple eating contest — all the classics.

There were also speeches by the organizers, a State Senator, and United States Senator William Borah.

Sen. Borah finished the speeches on a high note: “This blessed old republic cannot exist without a high standard of citizenship and a high standard of citizenship cannot be maintained except through a high standard of wages for labor.”

The Gem Worker and the Idaho Labor Herald newspaper printed under a few different names between 1913 and 1917, and gathered support for workers unions.

Boise’s Labor Newspaper You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

Hidden History: Boise’s Labor Newspaper You’ve Probably Never Heard Of

The red and green trolleys you see trundling around downtown Boise aren’t just for tourists — they’re a way for locals to learn more about the city we call home. Better yet, they’re just one of the many historical tours you can take to fuel your curiosity about the City of Trees.

The aforementioned trolleys are running daily at 10 a.m. and 1 p.m., and they seem to be frequently full this summer season. The tours are two hours long with an audio guide, and looking out of a trolley window might make you see things with a fresh perspective. You can also call to create a custom tour with their team.

IdaHistory’s Tours Macabre, True Crime, and More

Thanks to owner and tour guide Mark Iverson, IdaHistory’s tours will likely have the most personality of any of the tours listed here. Iverson specializes in Boise’s more ghastly stories, but even these are part of the fabric of our community. Plus, 

for little random pieces of Boise history, follow their Instagram

I’ve been putting off returning to this tour (which I last did as every Idaho public school fourth-grader), because the morbidity of the old prison will certainly land differently as an adult. But that’s a good thing, and we’re lucky to have access to this history! The Old Pen has both walking tours and cemetery tours.

In case you missed the Boise Depot Centennial celebration, you can still tour the 1925 building each of the next two Sundays for free! That includes, if you’re able and the weather permits, a climb up the belltower.

One of the most unique facets of Boise’s past and present intersects with Basque history. But it’s not by chance that Boise is home to the largest number of Basques outside of the Basque country. Learn why with a walking tour, either self-guided through the museum and cultural center, or 

My last recommendation is a sort of catch-all from the Idaho State Historic Preservation Council. These 90-minute tours look at economic, ethnic, and architectural histories to tell the story of our city.

Boise will continue to surprise you for as long as you live here, so go seek out something new!

Learn More About Boise On These History Tours

The butter yellow horse on top of the Ranch Club has stood the test of time, though the building it rears over has changed hands throughout the decades.

New Horse, Same Rodeo on Chinden Boulevard

It isn’t even the original horse! An earlier version included a saddle and rider with a light-up lasso, 

 — though a photo of that horse doesn’t seem to be online anymore.

The Ranch Club was owned by a single family from 1950 until 2002, and started off its first few years as a gambling spot until that became illegal in Idaho. When exactly the original horse was replaced with today’s remains unclear, but apparently its rider fell off in the mid-1960s, which of course prompted bar visitors to try to get in the saddle.

One of the Ranch Club’s claims to fame is that a scene in “Bronco Billy,” a Clint Eastwood film, was shot outside the bar in 1980.

It’s been a bit of a bumpy ride for the stallion and his building since the Arana family sold in 2002. It was sometimes rowdy, allowed smoking indoors until the mid-2010s, and changed ownership a few times.

It truly altered its lineage when, after 70 years as the Ranch Club, the building became Somewhere Bar in 2021, a queer bar that often touted itself as Boise’s only gay-owned bar (that’s not quite accurate — it was Garden City’s only LGBTQ+ bar, but Waterbear Bar in downtown Boise is also proudly queer-owned).

But even its ownership status got unclear, as 

BoiseDev reported when Somewhere Bar announced its closure

This spring, the Ranch Club name was restored to the building under new ownership and the bar has been pouring drinks for pool-playing guests for three months. We’ll see if the latest iteration of this long-lived Garden City bar is here to stay!

A Brief History of the Ranch Club and Its Horse

Get to Know the ‘Bring Back Rail’ Effort

We’re just a few days away from the 100th anniversary of the Boise Depot’s opening, and the City of Boise is celebrating with 

 April 13 - 16. One of those activities is a 

 with our City Cast Boise team on Tuesday, April 15 from 12:00 - 1:00 p.m. The conversation will feature Mayor Lauren McLean and Valley Regional Transit CEO Elaine Clegg, who is a new member of the Amtrak Board of Directors.

Which brings up a question everyone is curious about: Could passenger rail travel ever return to Boise? Let’s take a look at the recent effort to bring back the Amtrak Pioneer Line to find out.

In 1977, Amtrak took over operation of the train line first established by the Union Pacific Railway in 1925. Now named the Pioneer Line, the train took passengers as far west as Portland, and as far east as Chicago. According to stories gathered by the City of Boise, the 

 these large cities were even more important to folks in southern Idaho: “I rode the Amtrak frequently when I was a student at ISU in the late 70’s. I took it from Pocatello to Boise, where my folks lived, from Pocatello to Salt Lake City where my brother lived,” said one former passenger identified as Mary A.

But passenger trains were going out of style in the West; it was hard to justify the multi-day travel time once the Boise Airport operations grew in the late 60s and early 70s. Finally, waning demand led to the shuttering of the Pioneer Line in 1997. The Spanish-style Boise Depot became a historical site managed by Boise Parks & Recreation, and today is known more to locals as a wedding venue than as a bustling transit hub.

So, what would it take to bring passenger rail back? As with most things: Money, and political will. In 2021, the Boise City Council began seriously looking at this question, with then-Council President Elaine Clegg touting the possibilities with the infrastructure from the former Pioneer Line. Mayor McLean allied with Salt Lake City’s political leadership to 

 in the train’s return. In 2023, Boise hosted a summit featuring the CEO of Amtrak. 

, buffeted along by President Joe Biden’s longtime support for trains.

Then, the effort hit a snag. The Idaho Transportation Department was supposed to submit a federal grant application on behalf of the cities of Boise, Salt Lake City, Nampa, Caldwell, Pocatello, and the Utah Department of Transportation. According to 

, an ITD staffer “made a mistake” and submitted the application to the wrong link.

But the story doesn’t end there. The city and its partners plan to continue pushing for federal funding, and with Elaine Clegg’s recent approval to the Amtrak Board — the city has a powerful advocate who can speak to the region’s needs.

What comes next? We’ll find out directly from Clegg and Mayor McLean 

 in April, so it’s a good time to get to know the history of the iconic landmark. (It’s so iconic, we had to include it in our 

Located on the rim of the first Boise Bench, the Depot has a stunning view of Capitol Boulevard north to the Boise Foothills. No wonder 

 is named after the Spanish-style building. But how did the station become a transit hub in the 20th Century?

The Union Pacific (Finally) Comes to Town

Passenger rail came to Boise late, compared to other Western cities. Despite being a state capital, it took four decades of work for the Union Pacific’s main line to come through the City of Trees. New York City architects Carrère and Hastings were hired to draw up plans, choosing a Mission revivalist design with a red tile roof, stucco walls, and trusses.

So when the first train rolled out of what was originally named the Union Pacific Mainline Depot on April 16, 1925, it was a big deal to the community. Boiseans crowded onto the platform for a party, recognizing the significance of the moment. For decades to come, people in Boise could catch a train to cities as far away as Chicago from this very platform.

The surrounding Platt Gardens came two years later. Union Pacific hired Spanish landscape architect Ricardo Espino to design the gardens, which include winding walkways, ponds, and benches for taking in the skyline view.

Despite the enthusiasm of that day in 1925, passengers haven’t hopped on a train from the Boise Depot since 1997. But in recent years, 

 has been gaining steam among western cities. Mayor Lauren McLean has advocated for passenger rail, and Valley Regional Transit CEO Elaine Clegg 

. Could the dream of train travel come true again 100 years later?

We’ll be talking with McLean and Clegg about this question during 

a live City Cast Boise podcast taping from 12 - 1 p.m. on April 15

, as part of Parks and Recreation’s centennial celebration of the landmark. Mark your calendars for this free event inside the Boise Depot!

Get to Know the Boise Depot’s History

For tens of thousands of visitors and locals, Lucky Peak is the pond in Boise’s backyard. The dam, reservoir, and parks provide the closest boating, fishing, and camping recreation opportunities by far — but why is it called “lucky,” and how did it get there?

To understand why the Boise River was dammed at Lucky Peak, it helps to rewind several million years to the 

, and long-lived lake that spanned over 200 miles from Ontario, Oregon, to Castleford, Idaho.

The Boise front (ancestors to today’s Foothills) formed part of Lake Idaho’s shoreline, and the sandy sediment of the shore compacted and formed much of the sandstone found in the Treasure Valley today. When Lake Idaho — and later Lake Bonneville — finally drained, the Boise River began running through the former lakebed that would become the Treasure Valley.

In floods and steady erosion periods called “downcutting,” the river created a series of benches that eventually made up Boise’s own small valley. And those 

“benches” became a major part of Boise life

In 1865, early European settlers began recording floods in the valley, which had the potential to bring hardship each spring especially if crops were destroyed en masse.

Those settlers also found gold and other ores in the Foothills, including in the range’s southernmost peak, Shaw Mountain, which quickly earned the nickname Lucky Peak for its riches. Thus the stage was set for the reservoir and dam, 90 years later.

Lucky Peak Dam and Reservoir were preceded

 by the construction of Arrowrock Dam further upstream in 1915. Arrowrock crucially created the first flood control of the Boise River, which allowed further agricultural development in the valley.

It wasn’t until 40 years later that, in a spree of dam-building that stored water for irrigation, flood control, and hydroelectricity across America (and 

employed millions of citizens who needed work

 during and after the Great Depression), the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers began building the Lucky Peak Dam. In the 1980s, a hydroelectric power station was added to the dam.

Using 1865 as the official incorporation date of the City of Boise, the city has existed for 20 years longer 

 Lucky Peak Dam than it has with it. As hard as it is to imagine our city without the reservoir, it — like almost everything human-made in the valley — is still remarkably young.

 For example, deer and elk herds which adjusted to the sudden presence of a dam and lake, 

now have to contend with dangerous roadways

Why the Lucky Peak Dam Was Built

In the 80s and 90s, entrepreneurial jazz artists in Boise could head to the Idanha or Grove Hotels to play with one of the world’s best pianists. Music-lovers could sit back and listen to a soul jazz musician with decades of experience. Our city is still better for it, 25 years after his death.

 and began teaching himself to play piano at six-years-old. After serving in the Army, he 

, where Harris started honing the warm style of jazz he became known for. He was an ambitious collaborator, playing for larger acts and keeping his band alive while members rotated out.

It wasn’t until 1977 that his path led him to Boise for a “semi-retirement.” With an evident emphasis on “semi,” he released 22 albums over the last 23 years of his life and went back on tour in the 1980s.

When Harris was in Boise, he typically worked at Peter Schott’s, a top-shelf restaurant in the Idanha Hotel, becoming a local celebrity with a personality and style of music that could win over non-believers. “I never knew that I liked jazz!” one happy audience member 

Harris’ album “Tribute to Count Basie,” who was an earlier jazz icon, earned him a Grammy nomination in 1988.

Harris died in 2000 at the age of 66. The 

 complimented his influence and his blues roots, but wrote: “The real heart of his music, however, was its capacity to create a lively connection with his listeners, many of whom were dedicated fans for decades.”

The iconic bandshell in Julia Davis Park, which is now being used as a Treefort Music Fest stage, actually predates Harris’ birth. It was 

, and dedicated to Gene Harris a few months after his death.

 in 1998, which has continued Harris’ legacy of education through jam nights that run throughout the year. The festival itself brings as many as 1,500 students together for workshops, live performances, and more. 

Gene's wife Janie co-wrote his biography, 

“Elegant Soul: The Life and Music of Gene Harris.”

In the 80s and 90s, entrepreneurial jazz artists in Boise could head to the Idanha or Grove Hotels to play with one of the world’s best pianists. Our city is still better for it, 24 years after his death.

History of Gene Harris, Boise’s Soul & Jazz Pianist

 Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. But it wasn’t a begrudging, rushed attempt to avoid being the “last” to honor the civil rights leader that eventually pushed officials to recognition. Ironically, the presence of highly organized white supremacists and neo-Nazis did the trick.

Why Idaho Politicians Neglected to Approve the Holiday

For years, Idaho lawmakers took their pick of reasons to avoid recognizing the holiday, even after then-President Ronald Raegan signed it into federal law in 1983.

They cited Idaho’s small Black population, arguing that King was irrelevant to the vast majority of Idahoans. Elected officials pointed out that the segregation of Black Idahoans never existed on the same scale as in other states, ignoring the ways that it did exist and the more outright segregation of Latinos and other people of color.

Plus, King had addressed the ails of capitalism later in his life, organizing for an interracial effort for class solidarity that they thought bordered dangerously on communism. All things considered, King didn’t fit the profile of an Idaho hero.

Idaho Suffering in the National, Moral Spotlight

But Idaho couldn’t shake a different profile in the national image: that of a state that harbored the vanguard of late-20th century white supremacy within its borders. Richard Butler was at work building his “Aryan Nation” outside Coeur d’Alene, which the nation pointed to as evidence of Idaho’s ignorant thinking.

As the numbers of states that didn’t honor Martin Luther King, Jr. Day dwindled, they felt more pressure to do so.

“Resisting recruitment efforts by the Aryans, and countering Idaho’s national image as a haven for them, became so wrapped up with the MLK Day measure that organizing against neo-Nazis fueled more support for the holiday,” 

Boise State professor of history Dr. Jill Gill wrote

Other states felt the crunch, but in different ways. In Arizona, the National Football League offered to bring the Super Bowl to Tempe if the state honored the holiday.

Abortion, Global Momentum Add to Pressure

By 1990, the conversation about the holiday had been plaguing Idaho for years. Then, according to Gill, two more things happened that increased the negative attention.

First, supporters of Black liberation celebrated worldwide as 

South Africa’s Nelson Mandela was released from prison

 on Feb. 11. Second — history does echo — Idaho drew attention with the nation’s strictest abortion ban, to be implemented if Roe v. Wade was overturned.

Legislators knew that they were contributing to a national reputation that could keep away major businesses. Republicans in urban areas were more likely to support the holiday’s recognition than their rural colleagues because they knew businesses in their districts wanted more, not less, access to out-of-state corporations.

Thus, late in the 1990 legislative session, legislators finally approved the holiday, but added to its official title to appease Republicans who didn’t want as much focus on King, which is why it’s known as Martin Luther King, Jr. — Idaho Human Rights Day.

Gov. Cecil Andrus signed the recognition into law in April 1990. Officials hoped that it would put to rest accusations that the state was gladly harboring white supremacists, though Idaho still trailed the vast majority of states in recognizing the holiday.

Idaho was the 47th state to officially recognize Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Ironically, the state was motivated by the Aryan Nation and the national spotlight.