When musician Gary Eller moved to Pickle’s Butte, Idaho, in 2006, he began playing in bluegrass and oldtime music groups and getting to know Idaho musicians. Having grown up in rural West Virginia, he carried on a proud tradition of historic, regional music from his childhood home. He wanted to learn more about his new home and wondered, ‘What were Idaho’s historic songs?’
“[I] Played music all my life, especially love story songs, event ballads,” said Eller. “Story songs give a view of history from the bottom up, and that's a view that's different from a professional historian's view from 30,000 feet looking down.”
None of the musicians he knew had any Idaho songs in rotation. They mostly played songs that originated back east, where bluegrass and old time music had been recorded by folklorist Alan Lomax and other archivists from the Smithsonian Museum. Eller had found his calling — to hunt for this lost cultural heritage that had disappeared over a century ago.
“Some people call me a musical archaeologist. I love the thrill of the search, of the hunt. ‘Ah Ha! I can't believe I just found that.’ That's as much fun as playing the music to me."Gary Eller
Eller had retired from a 30-year career as a nuclear scientist at Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico. Research played a major role in his professional life, and before that as a PhD candidate in chemistry. Those skills would come into play again as he began a quest to find uniquely Idaho songs.
The former scientist put his skills to work and scoured rural Idaho libraries and archives looking for signs of pre-radio, local lyrics and sheet music in unassuming places. Some of the most interesting Idaho tunes were about current events and published in regional newspapers. He also relied on the research of historians and university students interested in a similar era, back when people entertained each other with a guitar or fiddle, dancing in each others’ homes and community halls.
“Radio came to Idaho and mass recordings were available to ordinary people. At that point, nobody had collected Idaho songs as they had in the other 47 states in the country.”
Focused on music and events before mass recordings overtook localized music scenes, Eller is interested in the variety and diversity of music that existed before radio homogenized the American soundscape. He’s generally focused on music before 1923 when radio broadcasting came to Idaho and recordings of music became widely accessible.
“I think the Idaho musicians would hear a song on the radio and say, 'Boy, they must be good. They're on the radio.’ Or they hear a record by the Carter family of Virginia, and they said, ‘They must be really good. Nobody's recorded us,’” said Eller. “And after about two generations, the chain of custody of Idaho songs was lost.”
In 2007, Eller started the Idaho Songs Project to “collect, interpret and preserve pre- radio era songs that shed light on the culture of early Idaho.”
With funding from the Idaho Humanities Council in 2007 and 2008, he compiled 200 historically rooted songs to perform across Idaho. Eller said the grant panelists almost didn’t award him the ‘gas money’ because they believed Rosalie Sorrels (a folk hero of his and one of Idaho’s few music celebrities) had already uncovered all of the regional folk songs.
Luckily, the project had a few champions as well and Eller went on to participate in Smithsonian traveling exhibitions, historical society events and the Western Folklife Center’s annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada. Eller received the Governor’s Awards in the Arts for Support of the Arts from the Idaho Commission on the Arts in 2020.
“I know that I'm connecting with audiences when I see good reactions and they have good questions afterwards. Then I know that I'm fulfilling the preservation part because people will take those songs home with them and if they become earworms, yay.”Gary Eller
Eller has authored 19 thematic books with albums of songs based on his research, which were added to major libraries, archives and The Library of Congress. Many of the songs unearthed at the archives are without musical notation symbols, but written to accompany popular tunes of the day, creating an Idaho twist on a popular favorite.
Eller gets particularly excited when a perfect storm of fate unites him with the exact communities a song came from and he is able to share the historic tune with those who may have a direct connection to the person who wrote the song.
Recently, when he was invited to perform at the Thomas Mercantile in Swan Lake, Eller sang and performed an obscure song from the 1870s that originated in the area about the loch ness monster of Bear Lake, which sits on the border of Idaho and Utah. The song was a parody in which the monster could be interpreted as the federal government restricting Mormons, or conversely how Mormons were viewed by other locals. The audience was familiar with the folklore of the monster, but hadn’t heard the song that also characterized the social climate at the time.
“So it's really a great folk song because you can interpret. It's like a Bob Dylan song. You can make it whatever you want it to be.”
Good people. Have you heard of late, The Song of Bear Lake County?
They're mustering all the forces there, That’s possible to rally.
Drilling them both night and day, In spite of Uncle Sam.
To put a fearsome monster down,At first they thought was sham.
The Telegraph can't near compare with its speed of locomotion.
Why, bless my soul, you can't say squat until it's crossed the ocean.
This fish lays part in Utah. Part in Idaho.
Which one claims most of him? I don't pretend to know.
Sometimes Eller finds an amazing Idaho story that should have a song written about it. He looks for Idaho singer songwriters who know the subject matter and are familiar with historic music from the time of the event, then asks them to create a song to be recorded.
“If I can't find a subject matter singer songwriter, then the job falls to me to create the song.”
One such story he turned into a song was that of liberated slave Aunt Viney Moulton, who came to Idaho on the Oregon Trail in 1867, the first recorded African American to take up residence in the state. According to the history Eller uncovered, “She got to where you can look down and see the trees in Boise and said, 'That's it, I'm not going any further. This is it.’”
Eller wrote the lines of his song “When Viney’s feet could walk no more, she spied a bit of heaven. She would be at the city of trees after 1867.”
But he learned history has blindspots and there are many perspectives left out. After writing and recording the song, he played it for an African American friend.
“He says, ‘Well, maybe she saw trees, but the real reason she stopped was because it was illegal at the time for Blacks to go into Oregon.”
In 1844, a provisional government in the Oregon territory passed a law saying that Blacks who tried to settle there would be publicly lashed every six months until they left. Oregon became a state in 1859, the only anti-slave state with an exclusionary law. When it ratified the 14th Amendment, the law became irrelevant, but it stayed in the Oregon constitution until 1926.
Eller takes this lesson learned as a success rather than a failure. It represents what he loves dearly about his work to uncover lost Idaho stories.
“So either you … believe that having those kinds of insights into your history is worth remembering or you don't,” said Eller. “I happen to think it's worth understanding where you came from. There's magic in telling history through music.”
This series is produced in partnership with the Idaho Commission on the Arts’ Folk and Traditional Arts Program, with funding support from Jennifer Dickey and Andy Huang, Dr. Suzanne Allen, MD and the National Endowment for the Arts.
Transcript
Some people call me a musical archaeologist. I love the thrill of the search of the hunt. Ah Ha! I can't believe I just found that. That's as much fun as playing the music to me.
My name is Gary Eller, and we're here at Pickles Butte, Idaho. Played music all my life, especially love story songs, event ballads. Story songs give a view of history from the bottom up, and that's a view that's different from a professional historians view from 30,000 ft looking down.
Many of the things I've found have been in hanging folders in libraries, large and small. Anything after 1923, to me, is a modern song. Radio came to Idaho. Mass recordings were available to ordinary people. At that point, nobody had collected Idaho songs as they had in the other 47 states in the country. And so, I think the Idaho musicians would hear a song on the radio and say, 'Boy, they must be good. They're, They're on the radio. Or they hear a record by the Carter family of Virginia, and they said, they must be really good. Nobody's recorded us. And after about two generations, the chain of custody of Idaho songs was lost.
The primary purpose of the Idaho Songs Project is to collect, interpret and preserve pre radio era songs that shed light on the culture of early Idaho. I know that I'm connecting with audiences. I see good reactions and they have good questions afterwards. Then I know that I'm fulfilling part of the preservation part because people will take those songs home with them and if they become earworms,Yay.
Good people. Have you heard of late? The Song of Bear Lake County.
One of the songs I sang was a song written in probably the 1870s about the Bear Lake Monster, the serpent monster in Bear Lake. None of those people had ever heard that song, and they thought it was great. You know, they all knew about the Bear Lake Monster, but they never heard a song about that guy.
They're mustering all the forces there. This possible to rally, drilling them both night and day in spite of Uncle Sam, to put a fearsome monster down. At first they thought was sham.
It's a parody. And the monster is either the federal government as seen by the Mormons or the Mormons as seen by the Gentiles. So it's really a great folk song because you can interpret.. It's like a Bob Dylan song. You can make it whatever you want it to be. That song I found in an obscure local history publication that had very limited distribution. It's something you would never find. You never know where a song like that's going to show up. It's probably not going to be on the Internet. And there's a line in there about...
The Telegraph can't near compare with its speed of locomotion. Why, bless my soul, you can't say squat until it's crossed the ocean. This fish lays part in Utah. Part in Idaho. Which one claims most of him? I don't pretend to know.
So the state line goes right through the, through the lake.
I find a song that's obscure. I'm after the ones that are in danger of being lost. And then I write booklets with songs recorded as part of the booklet. And then those get preserved in major library, university libraries here in Idaho and the Library of Congress.
And the secondary purpose when I can't find songs is to find a singer songwriter around Idaho that knows the subject matter to come up with a song on that subject. If I can't find a subject matter singer songwriter, then the job falls to me to create the song.
A Slave. In old Kentucky, Lincoln set her free. With old Judge Gray she made her way...
So I found this in a hanging folder at the state archives. The story about Aunt Viney Moulton. She was a liberated slave. In 1867, she walked out with an Oregon trail wagon train. She got to where you can look down and see the trees in Boise and said, 'That's it, I'm not going any further. This is it.'.
Could walk No more, she spied a bit of heaven. She would be at the city of trees after 1867.
So that was the story in in the state archives that I read. And I always learn a lot when I do research on these songs and try to talk to people that know what they're talking about. And I passed it by one of my African American friends. He says, Well, maybe she saw trees, but the real reason she stopped was because it was illegal at the time for blacks to go into Oregon. That's the danger of writing about somebody outside of your own culture. You can be easily blinded to the real realities out there.
So either you think that you believe that having those kinds of insights into your history is worth remembering or you don't. I happen to think it's worth understanding where you came from. There's magic in telling history through through music.