Abigail Scott Duniway is remembered today as a journalist, a suffragist, and an intellectual powerhouse ... all of which would have surprised her: She expected to be remembered for the novels that, today, very few people realize she wrote. (Portland, Multnomah County; 1870s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1806c.abigail-scott-duniway-noveliste-500.html)

Everybody had gold in Jacksonville, and nobody wanted to pack it around, and the bank had no access to outside markets where it could be invested. So, instead of paying interest, they charged a storage fee on all deposits. (Jacksonville, Jackson County; 1850s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1611a.jacksonville-where-bank-robs-you-416.html)

Corvallis/Toledo railroad tycoon T. Edgenton Hogg (pronounced “Hoag”) was always a little reticent about his past. Especially the Civil War part.

To some extent, that was understandable. “Colonel” Hogg had fought with the Confederacy in the Civil War. His side had lost, so, sure — better not to talk about it, right?

Nevertheless, the real story is so much more bonkers than that, that one wonders why the rumor-passers even bothered with making things up.

His story was unearthed somewhat painstakingly by historian Clark, a faculty member at Central Oregon College (now Central Oregon Community College) in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Clark compares the whole thing to a rip-roaring B-movie Western, and he is not even slightly wrong about that. (Toledo, Lincoln County; 1860s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/20-04.colonel-hogg-war-record-robbery-on-the-high-seas.html)

What comes to your mind when I mention the name “Balch”?

For most of us, it’s the sordid, nasty tale of Danford Balch, the first Portland resident to be hanged for murder, a fate he earned in 1858 by reacting to his stepdaughter’s elopement by chasing the young couple down with a shotgun and murdering his new son-in-law on the Stark Street Ferry (here’s a link to the Offbeat Oregon article about that).

And yeah, that’s one way to make it into the history books!

Half a century ago, though, most Oregonians would instantly recognize the Balch name from a more benign, and certainly a more important, historical character, who probably was distantly related to Danford — Frederic H. Balch, the author of what may actually be the most important and influential work of literature in Oregon history: a misty, mythical novel titled The Bridge of the Gods: A Romance of Indian Oregon, published in 1890.

In part, the reason Frederic’s name is so seldom recognized today is that he died young. The Bridge of the Gods was supposed to be Volume One of a six-part saga telling the story of the Oregon country. But tuberculosis claimed him when he was just 29 years old, leaving the great work unfinished. (Lyle, Washington Territory; 1890s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/2501b.frederic-balch-bridge-o-gods-684.512.html)

A defeat in the Oregon primary, for candidate John F. Kennedy, would have sent the message that his Catholic faith was a deal-killer; a win would signify that it was not. The task of sending that signal fell to Oregon voters. (Statewide; 1950s, 1960s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1806d.oregon-was-JFKs-make-or-break-election-501.html)

The miners believed Berry Way had murdered a man while robbing him. So they kidnapped the sheriff so he couldn't interfere, then empaneled their own DIY court of law, with the stated purpose of finding him guilty ... which, of course, they did. (Canyon City, Grant County; 1860s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1806a.berry-way-perry-mason-paint-your-wagon-498.html)

Oregon's official state university got off to a rocky start, in part because in 1859 Judge Matthew Deady thought it was a bad idea to have one ... (Eugene, Lane County; 1870s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1805d.matthew-deady-opposed-university.html)

Portlanders tolerated three years of strident calls for revolution and regime change, but when The Firebrand started saying mean things about marriage, the gloves were off. (Portland, Multnomah County; 1890s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1803c.firebrand-newspaper-shut-down-for-smut-487.html)

(NOTE: This episode is being posted two days early just in case we lose connectivity in the forecasted thunder/hailstorm later today.) Today, as travelers outside the Beaver State’s borders know well, Oregon’s roads are merely average, or maybe slightly above average, in terms of crowdedness and quality. Certainly other states tend to have more and wider interstate freeways.

But you don’t have to go too far back into the past to find a time when Oregon’s highway system was something rather special.

It’s a legacy that goes all the way back to the dawn of motoring; when the Good Roads movement got started, it really took off in Oregon, starting in the early 1910s with the nationally famous Columbia Gorge Highway.

But the true reason for the lion’s share of Oregon’s transformation into a midcentury motorist’s paradise is much more prosaic:

Our state was the first in the nation to levy a gasoline tax to fund its highway system. (Forest Grove, Washington County; 1910s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/2402b-0905b.oregon-highways-gas-tax-025.635.html)

Wild with grief over the death of one daughter, and convinced he had seduced her other daughter, Caroline Briggs attacked schoolteacher John Dalmater in front of his class, shouting 'Shoot the son of a bitch' -- and her son, who'd accompanied her, did so.

This episode is being posted a day early just in case we lose connectivity in the forecasted thunder/hailstorm later today.

(Kerbyville, Josephine County; 1870s) (For text and pictures, see https://offbeatoregon.com/1808b.caroline-and-david-briggs-UL-murder-508.html)