And There Were Men

AMONG the useful books which unravel the regional strands in our national history and tradition, this volume on the Pacific Northwest will rank high. It is generally well written and always intelligent; and it concentrates quite rightly on the people — Indians, religious mystics, badmen, stock-raisers, and miners who have given the region its distinctive flavor. That it is not a complete picture should be blamed probably on the conventional limits of published volumes. The material is rich, and one feels that there is much more where this came from.

The Walla Walla Jesus is delightful and instructive as a late manifestation of the religious mysticism of the frontier, though Mr. Blankenship is in error in guessing that W. W. Davies founded the last Christian-communist society in the Uinted States. The chapters on the Smohalla cult, on Joab Powell, frontier preacher, and on William Keil and the colony of Aurora all add to the picture of frontier religion — incidentally throwing the balance of the book a little heavily on that side. One misses the lumbermen, who get left out entirely, but one is grateful for the intelligent appraisal of the social readjustments coming in the wake of the Columbia Basin power developments.

The slips of fact (Joseph Morris, recusant Morman prophet, becomes James Morris; Ras Lewis, born Willard Christianson, is described as a “huge daredevil,” whereas he was barely of middle size) do not invalidate the book. It is readable and sensible, and it opens up, more than any other book on the same region, the rich vein of story and history that is there for the digging. W. S.