Felts Field

Felts Field is not only the oldest airport in the Spokane area, but it is also one of the oldest federally designated airstrips in the country.  Felts Field, located near Rutter and Fancher and along the banks of the Spokane River, was originally known as Ed Hoisington Field when one-thousand acres were first leased from the city by the Northwest Aircraft Company in 1919.  Throughout the 1920s, other private firms also leased the field for commercial aviation.  The Washington Air National Guard was the next to set up a the airstrip in 1924, which was the region's first Air National Guard unit.  Symbolic of the rising increase in the use of commercial aviation, United Airlines purchased the old Northwest Airlines builiding to be utilized as their new terminal.  Decorated in the popular Art Deco style of the 1930s (this can be seen in both the basic design of the building, as well as the bas relief moldings which decorate the building), the terminal was used by United Airlines also housing the region's weather bureau.  Hoisington Field was renamed Felts Field in 1927 after James Buell Felts, an Air National Guard pilot from Spokane died in a plane crash that May.[1]

On August 15, 1929, pilots Lt. Nick Mamer and Art Walker took flight on a record-breaking journey across the country from Felts Field.  Staying in the air for 120 straight hours, the two men flew fom Spokane to New York and back again, returning on August 20th after their grueling 7,200 mile trip.  This was the first transcontinental refueling and was a world's record for nonstop mileage.  In 1938, Lt. Mamer and nine others were killed in a commercial plane wreck and in 1939 a clock tower memorial was built in Lt. Mamer's honor.  The clock tower is still in use today and can be found directly west of the Skyway Cafe, behind the main parking lot.[2]

In the 1940s and with the onset of World War II, Felts Field was quickly becoming too small for the large influx of both military and commercial planes which seemed to be constantly flying on and off the runways.  In order to more efficiently support the Spokane aviation industry, the Spokane International Airport was built just west of Spokane in Geiger Field.  By 1949, all military and most commercial aviation activity was moved to the bigger and more suitable airport.[3] 

Although Felts Field lost most of its traffic in 1949, it never failed to continue running as an airport.  To this day, Felts Field is still an active and popular airstrip for many of the region's pilots.  Hobby pilots, the Experimental Aviation Association, commercial charter pilots and Life Flight are all operating at Felts Field and at just about any given time of day, airplanes can be viewed from any part of Spokane, either taking off or landing at the airstrip.

[1]  National Historic Register http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NRHP/Text/91001442.pdf

[2]  National Park Service; Aviation:  From Sand Dunes to Sonic Booms http://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/aviation/fel.html

August 19, 1917: IWW Office Raided & Martial Law Declared in Spokane

As tempers flared between militant workers and area industrialists, the City of Spokane banned public speaking in 1909 in an attempt to reduce the growing tensions between capital and labor in hopes to stifle the various worker's movements.  Within a few weeks of the new law, over 500 members of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) were arrested as they protested the unpopular law until the Spokane Jail was overfilled with the protesters.  The word was sent out by IWW leader James Rowan that all available supporters should report to Spokane to, as the IWW newsletter read, "Come Fill the Jail in Spokane".  A picture of a jailed member on a poster is captioned, "Jailed:  We are in here for you; you are out there for us".  In a symbolic gesture of solidarity and protest, hundreds of Wobblies (IWW members) arrive in Spokane in order to violate the ordinance for the sole purpose of getting arrested.  The highly contested ordinance was overturned in March, 1910 [1].

Over the next eight years, the Spokane IWW continued to expand its influence.  By the summer of 1917, IWW discovered the breaking point of the local government, which could not contain the growing radicalism, thus prompting brief military occupation of Spokane by the National Guard and a declaration of martial law by the federal government on August 17th.  The law was used as a method of intimidation and harassment aimed at unions, organizers and militant workers involved in the Inland Northwest's sawmill strikes.  The main target of this ordinance had become members of the Industrial Workers of the World and it was used as a means to prevent any further organization of mill workers who were striking for eight hour days and clean camp conditions.  As a result of the IWW's refusal to comply, the IWW office, which was a rented hall on the corner of Stevens Street and Front Street, was raided, its documents seized and its leaders arrested [2]. 

  The IWW, formed in 1905 as a response to the growing corruption, racism, xenophobia and misrepresentation found in the dominant union organization, the American Federation of Labor (AFL), had quickly become the bane of the estbalished labor order.  The IWW became a very popular and all-inclusive labor movement with strong socialist overtones.  The mass-organization and militant rhetoric involved with the IWW, which gladly included women, immigrants and minorities into their ranks, was something industrial capitalists had little experience dealing with.  The IWW was almost immediately deemed a subversive threat by federal, state and local governments, making the decision to declare martial law an easy decision; one well-recieved by a government caught up in the red-scare era of pre-WWI America.

When martial law was declared in 1917, the National Guard, under command of the US War Department, arrested anybody with a red card (IWW membership card) and arrested anybody engaged in "seditious activity", such as organizing workers.  Although public speaking was banned, as a show of who the ordinance was geared toward, members of the patriotic organization, the Volunteers of America were still allowed to continue to speak freely [3].

[1]  Spokesman-Review, August 19, 1917.  http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=0klj8wIChNAC&dat=19170819&printsec=frontpage&hl=en.
[2]  John Duda, Wanted:  Men to Fill the Jails of Spokane, Chicago, IL:  Charles H. Kerr Publications:  2009.    

Five Mile Prairie Schoolhouse

The original Five Mile Prairie Schoolhouse was built in 1901, which was a small one-room building that housed fourteen students and one teacher.  In 1912, the school, which had by this time become far too small for the expanding Five Mile population, was replaced by a new three-story brick structure.  Lacking basic ammenities, such as indoor plumbing and a modern heating system, as well as not having the new fire safety technology, this new schoolhouse was torn down after twenty-six years of use to make way for a more up-to-date building.  The third (and final) Five Mile Schoolhouse, which is still in use today, was erected in 1939 and was one of the various Works Progress Administration (WPA) projects in the region.

The new $30,000 Five Mile School/WPA project was funded by $19,788 in federal dollars and the remaining $10,000 was financed by the citizens of the Five Mile Prairie community.  Upon its completion in November 1939, the new grade school boasted two classrooms, a large auditorium, indoor plumbing and a formal dining room.  One of the classrooms held first thorugh fourth grade students, while the other classroom held fifth through eighth graders.  By 1941, seventh and eighth grades were moved to other schools in the nearby Mead School District and the Five Mile Schoolhouse would, from then on, hold only first thorugh sixth graders.  By 1969, the school population was at forty-four students.  From 14 kids in 1901, to 44 kids in 1969; these numbers are representative of how Five Mile Prairie was spared the expansive growth of its urban counterpart, Spokane.

The year of 1970 saw, after the failure of a bond levy, the last year of instruction at the Five Mile Prairie School (for at least thirty-five years).  In 1972, "People for the Preservation of Five Mile prairie Elementary", leased the old school building from the school district and utilized it for community meetings and events.  In 1976, the building was closed as a community center due to an increase in costs.  Mead School District #354 was, by 1976, using the boarded up building as a storage facility.  The Five Mile School house was used in this manner up until 2004 when a district levy was passed and extensive renovation began, its doors reopened for instruction in 2006 as an educational resource center for the Mead School District. [1]

[1]  National Historic Register http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NRHP/Text/04000952.pdf   

Hillyard High School

The original Hillyard High School building, built in 1907, had an initial enrollment of fourteen students and one teacher.  By 1911, the student population had grown exponentially to 105 students, symbolizing the growth of the town of Hillyard and the success of James Hill's railroad station in Hillyard.  The two-story, nine room brick structure had become far too small to support anymore students and in June of 1911, the citizens of Hillyard passed a bond measure of $50,000 for the contruction of a new high school.

Lacking little design characteristics, the new three-story brick structure, located on North Regal Street, graduated its first class of eight seniors in 1913 [1].

As Hillyard continued to grow in population, so did the student body of Hillyard High School.  By 1916, the senior class had expanded to twenty-five students and Hillyard decided to try and expand the school.  Voters rejected a bond measure and as a result, Hillyard students, angered by the failure of their town to expand the school, walked out of classes in protest.  It was not until 1922 that Hillyard would be able to procure the funds necessary for the expansion of the school and construction started that same year.  The new three-story annex would nearly double the classroom space of Hillyard High School and it also added a much needed gymnasium and an auditorium [2].

In 1932, to ease further congestion, John R. Rogers High School was built and 1932 was also the last year that Hillyard High School was used as a school.  The forty-eight students who graduated that year were the last to do so, thus transferring Hillyard's high school students to the new Rogers High School [3].

Absentee lanlords purchased the building in 1959, allowing it to fall into, by the 1980s, a state of disrepair.  Renamed the Martindale (after its new owners), the old Hillyard High School became known for its rampant crime rate and was, during the 1980s, representative of the decline of the Hillyard neighborhood's once prosperous and blossoming community.  The building was recently repurchased and an extensive remodeling project began.  The City of Spokane's Housing Authority spent $6.5 million on its renovation, a far cry from the initial price of $50,000 which financed the original building's contructon in 1912.  The old Hillyard High School may be gone, but the current apartment complex, still teeming with activity, is still a reminder of the old glory days of early 1900s Hillyard [4].

[1], [2], [3]  National Historic Register  http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NRHP/Text/05000920.pdf
[4]  Spokesman-Review http://www.spokesman.com/stories/2011/may/19/new-apartments-cause-angst/   

Copyright "Radicalism" vs. Historical Knowledge

This week's readings were an interesting and enlightening journey into the sordid world of copyrighting and all of the commercial and legal ramifications contained within it. Although, for me, this seemed like yet another chapter of Digital History, which seemed to underline the negative aspects of digital researching and the sensitive and relatively new world of internet politics. Cohen and Rosenzweig give a very eye-opening summarization of copyrights and how all researchers, especially digital historians, need to keep these things in mind when attempting to reproduce or use, in any capacity, any intellectual property without first getting permission.

I always was aware of copyrights,but had never really contemplated on their true significance (with the exception of music "pirating") until reading the chapter and other articles pertaining to this subject. What struck a chord with me in Cohen and Rosenzweig's writings about copyrights was the greedy commercialist aspect when, for exmaple, using or reproducing something strictly for the purpose of educational access. This really bothers me when corporate influences (and,of course,other commercial entities) charge egregious rates for using pictures or portions of publications in order for someone to use them as a tool for explaining or teaching about any given past event. This is understandable when someone wishes to use someones else's writing or artisitc ability for the purpose of making profit, stealing ideas, or compromsing its integrity, but when it is needed for the greater purpose of teaching, then profit should be thrown out of the window.

Even the earlier laws, which gave descendents of let say, for example, a popular musician, the right to that musician's intellectual/artistic property for at least two generations, is just too much.  Nobody should be entitled to someone else's hard work and ability, with the exception of the person who created whatever it is. I say this fully understanding the aspect of American predatory capitalism which allows for the making of profit off of anything, even if that thing is the music or writings of a person who has been dead for over a hundred years. With this being said, I would be naive to think that a talanted writer or musician would not wish to exploit his/her talents for financial gain, but that does not mean that his grandchildren should be able to reap the same fruits of the labor and talents of a deceased realtive. The time allowed to pass before something can be considered public domain is far too long. I just think a clear line needs to be drawn somewhere in this regard.

Another problem for historiansCohen and Rosenzweig mention is that of someone's intellectual property being misappropriated by someone else. This makes me curious as to how often this actually occurs; it should be fairly simple to prove what is one's actual work. It seems to me that if a historian was, for whatever reason, copyrighting research, that this would only prevent the sharing of ideas. Unfortunately, we live in a world where monopolies are not only practiced, but are overtly encouraged. So I guess this creates another problem with copyrighting. Cohen and Rosenzweig, having thier own experience with paying exorbitant rates for publishing historical articles online with the help of copyrighted materials mention, "The New York Times charged us...to publish a 1927 interview with Charles Lindbergh...on a public website..$300 per year, which they touted as  a deep discount  from their standard annual fee of $1,000." 

Since copyrighting intellectual property is going to persist, then the powers that be can at least revise them in a less antiquated manner and will be far more reasonable in its insistence that intellectual property be protected even after the death of the intellectual proprietor. In response to this outdated system of copyright "radicalism", Cohen and Rosenzweig state, "Copyright radicalism in the early twenty-first century has come to mean embracing  an eighteenth-century law." Keeping with their overall support of open access and their dislike of over-the-top copyright exploitation, the two authors did not fail to involve me their progressive mindset on the idea of and pursuant discussion about copyrighting.             

How long will digital history preserve the record of the past?

After reading Cohen and Rosenzweig this week, I am left with some questions and some concerns. The "Preserving Digital History" chapter left me wondering about the life of digital documentation and whether we can count on these documents being around in a hundred or more years. I know that the readings this week discussed much more than just the question of permenance of digital history and focused alot on how to gather information and documentation for a website, but the delicacy of digital documenting is what really stuck with me.

I really had not considered just how fragile the digital world can be until I read these chapters. It was always in my mind that digital history is far superior in the sense of lasting longer than paper documents and that because of this,digital history would be far superior a method of documenting history. I can now say that I seriously have doubts as to the reliability of digital history in comparison to paper history. Cohen and Rosenzweig gave some very good examples of why and how the preserving of digital history is actually quite fragile. Electronic media may seem invincible to us because we utilize it so much and on a daily basis and many of us, if not all of us,cannot imagine any possible scenario where we are denied our electronic access. A great example they give is with the death of an administrator in Norway who was the only one who knew the password to the database of documents at a literary museum, the Ivar Aasen Center of Language and Culture. Upon this man's death,the center was left without any way in which to access the system's catalog. The center then had to offer a prize to any hacker who could help them get into the system to change the password. I know this is an extreme example,but nonetheless,it shows just how delicate and fragile digital history could be.

Cohen and Rosenzweig also mention the problem of data corruption and how the slightest damage of certain forms of data storage can destroy very large amounts of information that may be lost forever. In order to ensure the preservation of their data storage,the New York Times,in 1999,for thier millenium project had to contract the Los Alamos Laboratory in order to make a strorage disk which would be able to withstand,not just the wear and tear of times and use,but would be able to withstand a nuclear war. As Cohen and Rosenzweig explain, "The disk...was created by using an ion beam to carve letters and figures into a highly pure form of nickel. Etched nickel is unlikely to deteriorate for thousands,or even hundreds of thousands of years..." If someone needs to have a nickel disk made at Los Alamos in order to ensure its survivability,then what are the chances of the average forms of data storage,which everybody uses,being able to last? Not to good I would think.

Another interesting example they talk about is found in formats. Formatting changes frequently and what we consider formats which may remain unchanged for a long time,we soon find that format being outdated and replaced with yet another. Who knows what we will be using as data storage in twenty years,let alone more than one hundred years. It would be quite arrogant of us to assume that what we know and trust today in regards to formatting will be used by our great grandchildren. Even if it may seem that we can always find ways to access today's formats tomorrow, does not necessarily mean that that will be the case. What if there is some catatsophic event and a solar flare wipes out huge swaths of digital data? There is always that possibility.

I am not saying that digital history should not be utilized, but what I am saying is that we should be more than aware of the shortcomings of digitization and to remain ever vigilant in safeguarding what we research. I would think that backing up research,with not just electronic backup,but by having paper backups would not be such a bad idea. Paper may deteriorate with time,but look at the Domesday Book,which has lasted over nine hundred years. Basically what I am proposing is that we should consider having physical (paper) copies as well as having backed-up our digital research,just in case.

Designing History on the Web: Aestheticism v. Information

I am noticing a pattern with Cohen and Rosenzweig's writings in Digital History.  This pattern is found in the topic of design/programming and that of allocation of historical research/information.  It would seem obvious, for me anyway, that when it comes to digital history, it would be prudent to place good historical research, first and foremost, above artistic integrity.  After reading Cohen and Rosenzweig, as well as browsing through dozens of different historical sites, I am starting to see the importance of how effective and necessary well-placed visual graphics and designs are in this regard.  With this being said, I do not think that either/or has to be sacrificed.  I am also starting to notice just how important collaboration is when desiging history for the web.

Until the day comes when the internet is so much a part of our lives that web design is taught to grade school children, we as historians and researchers have some delicate matters to attend to.  This concern I speak of is found in the debate of historians v. aesthetes.  I find it amusing that there are so many hard-nosed and stale historians out there that believe that historical sites with excellent graphic design presentation are somehow predisposing themselves to a loss of integrity insofar as their research is concerned.  This begs a very important question to those of us wishing to leave behind our preconcieved notions about history on the web and our want to delve into digital history a bit more:  Why is it that design and pure research can't meet somewhere in the middle and in a manner which neither artistic deisgn nor historical research need sacrifice integrity?  I know this seems like an odd question, but, after browsing certain sites and reading Cohen and Rosenzweig, I am getting the succinct feeling that this is actually an issue for many digital historians.  As Cohen and Rosenzweig exclaim, "Surely historians cannot blindly follow a design regime that relegates thinking to a secondary status; neither should we obscure historical materials and our ideas about the past in deference to pure artistic license."  For me, the answer for any historian wishing to transfer his/her knowledge to the web, but do not feel that they have the design or programming skills to make something  visually or intrinsically interesting, is...collaboration, collaboration, collaboration.

There are so many web designers nowadays and so few (relatively speaking) historians (especially of the digital ilk) that any historian who says they cannot find a reasonably priced web designer to help them with a digital history project of any size, is either a liar or crazy.  I know that until I develop the skills necessary to effectively design an aesthetically pleasing, yet well-researched historical site, I would now not think twice about procuring the services of a hungry and talented young (or old) web designer to help me create a visually pleasing piece of digital history.  Even if I had the programming skills I need to create a site, I still would rather go with a professional simply for the fact that designing a a site is, in a sense, an art form.  Just like Young-Hae Chang describes, "The web:  The greatest chance to say something or to make something...dumb, or better yet, boring. Breathtakingly boring, deathly boring."  In other words, for digital historians, one could have the most wonderfully researched and welll-though out bit of history, maybe even the best one has ever known, but when placed upon a platform of a visually digital nightmare, than that research may very well go unread.  Even when appealing to other historians and not the general public, such eyesores can become unfathomably boring and unnoticable.  There is a big difference between a book of history and a website of history.  Books do not have to be aesthetically pleasing, but for most people, historians included, a website is another story altogether.

Collaboration is also an excellent way for us program illiterate historians to learn that aspect of digital history.  I know that I have a better time with hands-on learning as opposed to reading programming guides which often feel like they are written in another language.  Even if it is just a one time thing, I firmly believe that collaboration between historians and web designers would be they most logical method of learning and/or experimenting with digital history.  I will say it again...collaboration!