League of Women Voters News

In the context of the Friday Letter, we try to be contemporary, we try to live in the now, not in the past. Nevertheless, enjoy #95.

League of Women Voters

An Associated Press story from Idaho this week reveals that the League of Women Voters there is in a heap of trouble.

The Blackfoot League of Women Voters has announced that it will disband, mainly because of an aging membership and an inability to attract new members.

Officials with the league in southeast Idaho say chapters are losing members to hectic lifestyles and political divisions.

Here’s why this minor item has any meaning whatsoever: I happened to be there, in the Community Room of the Idaho Bank and Trust building, in the mid- 1970s, when the Blackfoot chapter was formed.

In the grand scheme of things, so what? But wait. There’s so much more to the story.

Those were the days of the ill-fated Equal Rights Amendment. Those were the days when some of us thought the U.S. Constitution should be changed to specifically “grant” rights based on gender. Dumb idea. Sounded good at the time.

The League of Women Voters slipped right into the niche of the ERA era. Ostensibly non-partisan, the league appealed to women in Blackfoot and surrounding Bingham County.

My wife, the kids’ mom, who wasn’t much of a joiner, joined. Verna Brown, wife of the publisher of The Blackfoot News, was a prime organizer.

Verna’s husband Drury was my boss at the newspaper. As best I could, I did as the publisher directed. He had said “cover the league,” and so I did. That’s why I was there at the enfranchisement ceremony.

I took notes, took pictures, dutifully reported chapter elections and activities. I even scored a few real news stories when political celebrities would come to speak during league meetings.

Then somehow mirth overtook me. That hardly ever happens. (Snicker snicker.)

Riding on a wave formed by the popular Equal Rights Amendment, I presented myself as a candidate for membership. If girls can join, and the girls want equal rights, then rationally, boys can join.

The league grudgingly accepted me. I paid my dues. I caused myself marital strife by joining a group my poor wife thought might just be something she could have to herself.

From my secure position inside the group, as the only Blackfoot male screwy enough to join, I started poking fun at the league. In my personal weekly newspaper column, I concocted league-related stories just for fun. I whimsically re-named the group “The Plague of Women Vipers.”

Over time, the community seemed to give the league less and less credibility. Actually, I was surprised to read that the Blackfoot chapter only recently rolled over and died. I thought that probably happened 30 years ago.

One “scandal” I helped perpetrate had to do with the ERA and a rumor that circulated like a sagebrush wildfire through the little Mormon community.

The Mormons had come to believe, somehow, that the real meaning behind the proposed ERA was to be found in gas stations.

The Mormons eagerly embraced the idea that gas station operators wanted to have only one restroom – one room with Men/Women posted on the door. The Mormons thought the entire ERA movement was about gas station restrooms.

One meeting of the league featured State Sen. Cecil Sandberg, a Democrat, and a Mormon (an unusual combination at the time). Cecil stood up and witnessed in favor of the ERA. (See? See how Democrats are? Women vote! Let’s kiss up to women!)

Mr. Sandberg was a mortician by vocation, and his wife Grace was a very fine studio photographer. I liked Cecil a lot. He was a very good insider for me – taught me the world as seen through Mormon eyes.

Cecil stood up to speak during the meeting and debunked the rumor of the ERA-inspired one-bathroom gas stations. He said: “Grace and I have been using the same bathroom for 50 years. What’s the problem?”

The ensuing hullabaloo, fanned by the newspaper, went on for weeks. Letters to the editor. People were outraged that Cecil and Grace would actually use the same restroom. It was great newspaper fun.

As always, my publisher was dismayed by my fervent and voluminous one-man campaign to disrupt and disturb the little Mormon community. But serendipitously, the fruits of my vitriolic labors actually sold papers.

The Browns were puzzled by me, but they loved me, and they let me stay there in Blackfoot for far too long. I even became editor for several years, a position in which I flourished, thrived, and reveled.

Ah, the Plague of Women Vipers. Those were the days.

The Cable TV story

In the early days of cable TV, companies wishing to serve communities had to run the gauntlet of city councils to obtain valuable franchises.

Bingham Cable TV was no different. The firm had to perform certain functions dictated by municipal authority in order to earn permission to do business.

In Blackfoot, one of those conditions was “local coverage.” The cable company was required to produce and broadcast reports on a certain number of local events. We had hours and hours of school board meetings, baseball games, parades, school plays.

Anybody remember a fellow named Jack Holland? Jack was for some years the “trainer” for Blackfoot High School athletic teams.

Along comes cable TV, a medium to which Jack gravitated. Sure enough, Jack was on hand, seated beside the regular announcer, during a basketball game between the Blackfoot Broncos and the archrival Snake River Panthers. Jack’s job was to identify players, and to provide “local color.”

During the pre-game babble, the announcer said, “Jack, those Snake River jerseys may cause the officials problems. The purple numbers on the purple shirts are hard to see.”

Jack rose to the moment. After a pregnant pause, Jack leaned into his microphone and said: “Yeah. And those numbers are going to get harder to see as this night goes on.”

Had enough? Don’t get me started on Marlin Bingham. Or Sylvan Anderson.

Word of the Week: Missal. It’s from Latin, missa, mass. A version of it shows up in Middle English, missale, messel. Nowadays it means, in the Roman Catholic vernacular, a book containing all the prayers necessary for celebrating Mass throughout the year; hence, any book of prayers or devotions.

Next week’s word: Apostasy.

Gripes? Complaints? Whines? Comments? Adoration? Puppy love? Reciprocal rant? Feel free to express yourself in the comment section below!