The north end of Boise has come full circle since the capital city’s earliest days. Originally the swankiest section of town, it was nearing its nadir when I was in high school in the 1960s. Rich folks lived on the bench, except for a few who lived in new developments being constructed in the Highlands, which look down on the old north end.
The area around Hyde Park and Boise High School was inhabited by lower middle class working people and a large sprinkling of what was then called “intellectuals” – people who liked the downtown atmosphere of stately old homes, many converted into rooming houses, and turn of the century sandstone apartment buildings.
Many of these people had grown up in major cities like Boston, New York, Philadelphia and San Francisco where working class, ethnic and professional class neighborhoods were mixed together with many retailers living in apartments above the store. The rest walked or took public transportation to work downtown.
In other words, they were real neighborhoods not housing developments. Unlike those big cities, where ethnic groups occupied separate sections of the neighborhoods, the north end was a true mixture with Jews living next door to White Anglo Saxon Protestants (WASPs), Italians, Basques, Chinese etc.
It could be said that the professionals who chose to live in the north end, Wasps in particular, were effectively the advanced guard of the gentrification that has turned the north end again into the most desirable and expensive neighborhood in Boise.
That was clearly not their intent, however. I had many friends in Boise in the late 1950s and early 60s and virtually every one of them lived in the north end. Their parents were musicians, teachers, engineers, doctors and clergy including the Episcopal Bishop of Idaho, the Dean of St. Michael’s Cathedral, and the ministers of the Presbyterian, Congregational and Lutheran churches.
They chose to live in the north end because they like the inner city atmosphere and because the housing was relatively inexpensive. The last thing any of them desired was its gentrification. When the Methodist Cathedral of the Rockies proposed an apartment complex with underground parking for church as well as residents’ use, early in the current century, they and their descendants stood as one against it.
In fact it could be said that the gentrification process began when construction of the massive church building went up in 1960, although suburbanification might be a more appropriate word.
The magnificent gothic suburban cathedral was constructed not of granite or gray sandstone, but of a red and white rock commonly used in plush suburban homes on the bench at the time. The soaring interior was trimmed in white painted wood that was also used in the construction of the pews and sanctuary furnishings. Red cushions on the pews ensured the congregation a soft place to sit and acres of red carpet at soft place to walk.
They needed it because the sermons delivered by Dr. Herbert T. Richards were as long as they were inspiring. A Doctor of Divinity, Dr. Richards had filled the old Methodist Church and led the fundraising efforts to build what was then to be the largest church in the state. The church was surrounded by a red rock mall of meeting and Sunday school rooms, each with its own piano, according to church advertising.
My Episcopalian, Lutheran and Presbyterian friends referred to it not as the Cathedral of the Rockies, but as the Rock Pile of the West. They were jealous, of course, but they did have a point. A more appropriate name might have been the Dr. Herbert T. Richards’ Cathedral, because everything about the place seemed to reflect his image in the same way that the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California as seen on television exudes the personality of its founder, the equally inspirational Dr. Robert Shuler.
I went on one of the daily tours of the church in the 1970s and most of the guide’s descriptions included references to Dr. Richards. Showing off the pulpit, he noted, “Dr. Richards always pauses here at the edge of the pulpit to make announcements and welcome newcomers to the church before going up to begin preaching.” Moving on to the altar, he pointed out the Bible laying open on a rotating Lazy-Susan-style mount saying “When Dr. Richards comes to the altar, he turns the Bible around to read facing his congregation.”
I once attended a Sunday morning service at the rock pile with a girlfriend. An exchange student from Japan staying with her family was with us. He was a Shinto and martial arts black belt. Dr. Richards invited him up to the front to be introduced to the congregation.
“I understand you have a black belt in Judo and that that is part of your religion, Akai,” he said. “Why don’t you give us a demonstration? Come on, show us some of your religion.”
Akai modestly declined and made his way back to his seat crimson with embarrassment. I wanted to offer him a suggestion for an appropriate demonstration when he got back to our pew, but my girlfriend told me it would only embarrass him more.
Rumor once had it that much of the financing for the Cathedral of the Rockies came from C.C. Anderson, who once owned department stores in most Treasure Valley towns. It was said that Dr. Richards’ constant and devoted ministry to the iconic Boise businessman during his final days resulted in changes to his will acing out the College of Idaho, St. Luke’s Hospital and Boise Junior College.
The rumor was never confirmed and it no longer matters if it ever did. The other institutions have prospered without whatever C.C. Anderson might have given them. Dr. Richards’ rock pile continues to threaten north end traditionalists with suburbanification and their neighborhood is now the most desirable in the state. Even home sellers in the Highlands advertise them as being in the north end.
Plus ca change, plus meme chose, as the French say, the more things change the more they are the same.
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