A History of Salt Lake County

Claiming The Crossroads, 1950-1970

O n e century after settlement, the Salt Lake Valley claimed its identity as a crossroads with a new sense of entitlement. Both the availability of television and increased air travel brought the world closer, resulting in a new sense of sophistication. The arts, fertilized during the years of depression and war, now blossomed abundantly. In the 1950s, education became a priority both for veterans and the children of the post-war "baby boom." In fact, when the Vietnam War escalated in the next decade, college enrollment ironically allowed many young men to evade the military draft. So persuasive was the 1950s' national vision of family life, under-written by a careening birth rate in Salt Lake County, that the ideal of a happy nuclear family predominated in the valley long after the decade ended. In certain respects, the model family that reigned in television's situation comedies, in magazine advertisements, and in the movies was the logical descendant of the agricultural family, a sta-ple of western settlement. The agricultural family (and often the industrial family), however, had depended upon a flexible clan of rel- CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5, 0-1970 205 atives and neighbors, while the nuclear family claimed a self-sustain-ing home. The LDS proportion of the Salt Lake City population dropped as large families moved into subdivisions appearing in the south and east valley, featuring ranch-style homes, yards, garages, and swing-sets. As if the valley suddenly tipped southward, the population slid increasingly into Murray, Sandy, Draper, Millcreek, and Holladay, and later toward Granger, Hunter, Taylorsville, Riverton, and West and South Jordan. Despite the wholesome emphasis of the 1950s, political and social conflicts ran deep. The war-weary nation dwelled on prospec-tive enemies within and without, and Salt Lake County reflected both concerns. The rhetoric of anti-communism echoed in valley politics as McCarthyism seized Congress. Also, military industry welded the county to national policy, dominating the economy even more than during World War 11. With the advent of the Korean conflict, the spreading chill of the Cold War, and the escalating Vietnam War, Salt Lake County consistently assumed a militaristic stance. Between 1950 and 1953, more than 7,564 Utahns served in Korea and, between 1963 and 1975, more than 47,000 in Vietnam. As the latter war became increasingly controversial, debate and dissent within the state centered in the Salt Lake Valley. The dramatic civil rights movement, rising in southern states during the late 1950s and 1960s, existed mainly on television for Salt Lakers. Yet issues of fairness arose, unrestricted to race, and spread valley-wide around housing and community services even as legisla-tors resisted, debated, then finally passed basic civil rights law on Capitol Hill. Minority groups took heart and organized, neighbor-hood councils blossomed, and Salt Lake County government devel-oped new resources to provide services to underserved constituents. All in all, despite conflicts and challenges, the Salt Lake Valley basked in its growth and relative prosperity and invited the world to participate. In 1966 a Salt Lake City delegation bid in Rome for the 1972 Olympic Winter Games. The bid failed and the games went to Sapporo, Japan; however, the idea of bringing the Olympics to the Salt Lake Valley germinated. Linked inexorably to the nation and leading the state, Salt Lake County now flourished within its own ideal as the Crossroads of the West. Tuesday breakfasts epitomized decision-making during this era. These convened at the Hotel Utah, attended by LDS church president David 0. McKay, Gus Backman, executive director of the Salt Lake City Chamber of Commerce, and Salt Lake Tribune publisher John F. Fitzpatrick. Backrnan headed the chamber for over thirty years, and Fitzpatrick published the Tribune for more than four decades. With his sudden death in 1960, his son-in-law John W. Gallivan assumed his seat, not only as publisher but at the Tuesday breakfast table. Over nineteen years, McKay became known as "the prophet" rather than "the president" (as all but Joseph Smith had been called), command-ing a new devotion. Between them, these men linked the interests and resources of religion, the capital city, and the media in a locus of power fused entirely outside democratic channels. The importance of this triad in affecting development and policy in the valley cannot be overstated though their decisions were informal and largely undocumented. After McKay's infirmity and death ended the weekly conclaves, an LDS general authority, a Salt Lake City commissioner, and a state sen-ator individually bemoaned the end of the breakfasts as the loss of a single group that could "consistently get anything done."' In retrospect, the triumvirate symbolized the benevolent pater-nalism of the 1950s even amid the broadening issues of the 1960s. Unrepresented at the power breakfasts were "the county" as opposed to "the city," particularly the southwest sector, labor, ethnic, and racial minorities, and women. Together these groups comprised a majority of valley residents; entirely separate in the 1950s, they gasped in the 1960s at a wandering breeze of entitlement. Overall, the post-war shift in the valley's living patterns came rapidly and dramatically. In 1950 Salt Lake City represented a strong residential center as well a center for culture, education, finance, medical care, and shopping. Seven out of ten county residents lived in the capital city with farmers and industrial workers served secon-darily by outlying cities and towns. Only a decade later, five of those proverbial ten residents had left the capital city, and by 1970 only CLAIMINTHGE CROSSROA19D5S0-,1 970 207 Traffic became a major concern in communities such as Sandy, which grew by 36 percent in the 1950s' continued to swell in the 1960s' then doubled its new size in 1969. (Utah State Historical Society) three (and a fraction) remained. Families with young children were the most likely to seek suburban life, while the poor and minorities were more likely to remain in Salt Lake City.2 Most of those who moved from "the city" to "the county" remained urban people, now seeking a suburban lifestyle and willing to commute to work. The impact was great: Salt Lake City suddenly became a place to work or play, not necessarily to live. Unincorporated Salt Lake County felt the weight of residents need-ing services no longer provided by the capital city. Meanwhile, cer-tain small cities coped with populations that doubled and tripled seemingly overnight. By 1960 Salt Lake City's population had declined by 7 percent even as Salt Lake County's had increased by 20 p e r ~ e n tT. ~he baby boom, which augmented the growth of new neighborhoods, soared not only through the 1950s but also through the 1960s when the national rate began to fall. Murray, for instance, transformed from a smelter town inter-spersed by truck farms into a suburban city that prided itself for effi- cient services and low taxes. As its neighborhoods multiplied, the population increased from 5,740 to 16,802 between 1940 and 1960. Meanwhile nearby unincorporated communities such as Millcreek, Holladay, and Cottonwood gained new and often upscale neighbor-hoods. Homes clustered around the base of Mount Olympus and even began to climb. In 1961 ground was broken for a new phenomenon in Salt Lake County. Once it was roofed, the Cottonwood Mall allowed shoppers to browse shops and department stores without braving the weather. Contractor and developer Sidney Horman overcame zoning, drainage, and financing problems to erect the nine-hundred-foot consumers' mecca. "With ZCMI, Utah's oldest department store as the keystone of the center," the Salt Lake Tribune reported, "the shop-per can select from a wide variety of apparel shops, shoe stores, hard-ware, jewelry, drugs, music, novelty, gift, sporting goods and specialty foods and f~rniture."M~a ll-wandering became a pastime for young and old alike, one that surpassed shopping. Art shows, high school concerts, auto shows, and a variety of exhibitions were scheduled in the popular facility. The population influx in the south and southeast valley bolstered county tax rolls as voters consistently resisted incorporation for fear of increased taxes under city government. Meanwhile, especially with the advent of the mall, Salt Lake County was more than willing to retain most of the southeast valley on the county tax rolls. Two-car garages beside many new homes sheltered an important component of the new American dream, but automobiles and daily commuting posed an immediate problem. State Street thickened with long lines of vehicles, relieved somewhat by the construction of the Seventh East-Cottonwood Diagonal freeway. The construction of interstates 15 and 80 was federally approved in 1956, and concrete girders and asphalt surfaces slowly appeared throughout these decades. Interstate 15 rose parallel to Sixth West Street, linking Salt Lake City to cities north and south, and Interstate 80 swooped east and west, crossing the city at Twenty-First South. Meanwhile, traffic mushroomed faster and farther south than even the new freeway sys-tem could support. The post-war housing shortage erupted into a building boom to CLAIMINTGHE CROSSRO1A95D0-S1, 9 70 209 match the baby boom; both college graduates and young married couples abounded. As Kennecott operated at "full tilt and other industries were booming . . . there was a lot of inexpensive ground around,"' recalled Sandy resident Grant Hurst. "Suddenly Sandy was sprouting. And from then on it was just kind of exponentially grow-ing, I mean it was just one on top of another, like shingles coming down a Gradually Sandy annexed subdivisions north and east of the city, so the city grew both in area and numbers. Sandy's population expanded by 36 percent between 1950 and 1960 reaching 3,322 resi-dents. It continued to swell throughout the 1960s, then doubled its new size in 1969. As fast as developers could carve neighborhoods in the eastern hills, the city offered water, services, and annexation. Its cul de sacs sprouting new grass and dotted with short shrubbery fea-tured block after block of suburban family life. The neighborhoods were almost entirely white, and most mothers stayed out of the work-force. Sandy differed visibly from the model families on television comedies such as The Donna Reed Show and Father Knows Best only in that most families were LDS.6 The population shift southward inexorably changed life for farm-ers, as new subdivisions grew on farmland like an unparalleled cash crop. From the Wasatch to the Oquirrh ranges, farmers found they could no longer afford to plant sugar beets or alfalfa in fields so newly valuable. Some sold top soil then the property itself. Many who wanted to continue farming moved elsewhere; some held on to their land; still others found urban jobs. The availability of water proved as key to development as it had to settlement. In 1952, as Deer Creek's water flowed into Salt Lake City with the completion of the aqueduct, the Metropolitan Water District offered to sell water to other markets. Cottonwood and Union voiced an interest, so did Granger, Hunter, Taylorsville, and Magna to the west. Only with difficulty had the Granger-Hunter Improvement District gotten its start in 1949, installing water and sewerage lines between 3 100 and 4100 South streets and between the Jordan River and 7200 West. In 1951 the Salt Lake County Water Conservancy District came into being, aiding the effort to bring a reliable water supply to southwest residents. Investors in the project were hard to find, however, and civic leader Estel Wright drove prospective investors to view dairies, truck gardens, and farms as he described their inevitable future as subdivi-sions. Finally American Savings and Loan took the risk, and residents voted in 1953 to support a bond that would install water lines that hooked into a main line extending into Kearns. There developers were erecting subdivisions around the skeletal remains of the army air base.7 Improved roads in the late 1950s accelerated growth in the west valley; 3500 and 4800 South streets became major east-west arteries. Meanwhile the state bought property for the western segment of the Interstate 2 15 belt route which would cross Granger and eventually extend Redwood Road north into Davis County. As neighborhood development peaked on the southeast side of the valley, developers looked increasingly toward the southwest. The growth rates were far from equal, however; between 1950 and 1955, one hundred to 150 subdivisons were developed each year in the southeast valley while six to twelve were built each year west of the Jordan River. Like certain eastside communities, southwest towns such as Granger, Kearns, Bennion, Hunter, and Magna were loathe to incor-porate. The urbanization taking place on the west side of the valley differed, however, for some citizens proffered stiff resistance shown by the fact that zoning was not formally instituted in Granger and Hunter until 1965. The residents' reluctance to citify was complicated by an insidi-ous notion in Salt Lake City that investments were unsound west of the Jordan River. Meanwhile urban and rural lots mixed, and blight plagued areas of the westside. Truth told, the area tended to be a dumping ground for the rest of the valley. Only in 1962 did Utah Power and Light install street lights in Granger even as ground was broken for a Salt Lake County fire station and a modern post office. Two years later, the Valley West Hospital opened with forty beds? The Chesterfield and Redwood areas showed these stresses as clutter of junked cars and trucks mixed with small plots containing a few cows or horses. When Salt Lake County opened the Redwood CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1970 211 Multipurpose Center at 3100 South on Redwood Road, it brought considerable relief, offering badly needed recreational facilities, youth employment and training, day care, emergency food and clothing, English-as-a-second-language classes, medical services, and senior citizen program^.^ Throughout, clubs and councils led out in providing various pro-grams and civic improvements. The Granger Lions Club, for instance, in 1951 bought land at 3700 West and 3500 South streets and created Granger Park. In 1955 the Hunter Park Committee raised money for a park at 2700 South and 6000 West streets. In response, the Hunter Lions Club set about furnishing a sprinkling system, a bowery complete with picnic tables, a baseball diamond, and tennis courts. In 1964 the Eagles, Lions, and Rotary clubs formed the Granger- Hunter Community Council, soon the impetus in seeking reform. Committees oversaw planning and zoning, safety and welfare. The council raised money to replace dangerous irrigation ditches with pipe, improve street lighting and traffic control systems, and enhance flood control. In 1968, as a council-sponsored swimming pool opened, Salt Lake County began work on the Hunter, Hilsdale, and David Gourley parks.'' The southwest communities increasingly drew their subsistence from military industry which became the largest manufacturing sec-tor, employing 20 percent of the state population. It largely supported Granger, Kearns, Hunter, and Magna. By 1963 Utah's economy was the third most oriented toward defense in the nation, and the west-side communities depicted that commitment. The Hercules Powder Company, for instance, became an impor-tant contractor of Minuteman missiles and modernized its Bacchus Works to improve nitroglycerin production. Later Hercules teamed with Thiokol in working on the Trident and Poseidon submarine missiles. In addition, the United States Air Force's commitment to guided missiles reached the valley in 1956, when the Sperry Rand Corporation began producing Sergeant missiles and later antiaircraft weapons systems and radar systems. Kennecott's Utah Copper Division remained a major employer, boasting the valley's tallest structure with a new smokestack erected The open pit of Kennecott's Utah Copper Division was deep enough to swallow the Empire State Building and more than two miles wide by the late 1950s. Shown here in 1980, the pit attracted about 30,000 tourists per month to the overlook. (0. Wallace Kasteler-Deseret News) to ease residents' concerns over air pollution. Bingham, Garfield, Arthur, and Lark had grown up around the mountain that open-pit copper mining had turned into an amphitheater. Now the pit gaped more than two miles in diameter and deep enough to gulp the Empire State Building. A spiral of roads wound the sloping sides, and power shovels, trains, and trucks moved like toys as viewed by the 20,000 to 30,000 tourists per month who stood at the overlook. Few visitors stopped to spend their dollars in Bingham, however, despite a public relations program to provide better parking and to advertise the town's colorful past. "It was 1957, and the Lark Elementary School was the largest building in town,"" wrote Michael N. Martinez of his childhood. The school hosted the Salt Lake County summer recreation program, where children learned rope jumping, ping pong, and baseball. Martinez remembered the constant dust from blasting and how homes and buildings trembled with every charge. Like many fami- CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1 970 213 lies, the Martinez family left New Mexico after World War I1 for rail-road, mining, or defense jobs. Employers around Bingham not only recruited there but encouraged employees to hail additional family members to the canyon. "The mine whistle controlled our lives," Martinez recalled. "It blew and we got up to go to school. It blew and we went home to have lunch. It blew and our dads came home from work, and we knew we better get home to eat." Most families lived in apartment units built into barracks. "Each morning and every afternoon, as the shifts changed, there were hundreds of cars rolling past our house. . . . On the other end of the town was the store, the post office, and the mine bosses' houses."" The copper giant dramatically changed employees' lifestyle as, late in the 1950s, it expanded and began swallowing the towns it had created. Residents found their most determined resistance futile as the land beneath their homes and business districts was purchased by Kennecott. Garfield was dismantled in 1955, and the old Slav enclave of Highland Boy vanished into the roar of steam shovels. In 1960 the wrecking ball raised dust in Bingham despite the efforts of civic leaders and merchants to unite. Two years later, Kennecott acquired rights to the land under Lark from the United States Smelting, Refining, and Mining Company. One by one, the colorful towns that countless residents had called home vanished into legend. Meanwhile labor disputes and strikes made Kennecott's impor-tance to the economy alarmingly apparent. In 1955 the legislature had passed a "right-to-work" law that held organized labor's claim on the workforce to 19 percent by 1960. Most of Utah's unionized work-ers worked along the Wasatch Front in mining, manufacturing, util-ities, or construction, including a significant number at Kennecott. In the fall of 1967, a major strike closed mines in Bingham Canyon as well as in neighboring states. When no solution developed, Governor Calvin Rampton traveled to Washington, D.C., to facilitate negotiations which finally required the intervention of President Lyndon B. Johnson. As its population shrank, Salt Lake City struggled to define and master its new role as a significant urban center with a declining res- idential tax base. A crescent-shaped ring of homes along the eastern and northern foothills continued to house the valley's most affluent residents despite posh developments and new schools rising near Mount Olympus. The inner city, however, suffered from the migra-tion to the suburbs and the neighborhoods aged quickly. The Salt Lake City School District shrank from 44,872 students in 1958 to 27,600 in 1974. One by one elementary and junior high schools closed. The city's northwest quadrant was strengthened by the new Rose Park subdivision created between the Jordan River and the Capitol Hill area. Developer Alan E. Brockbank was the son of a gardener at England's Buckingham Palace and designed the streets between Eighth North and Twelfth West streets to form a rose when viewed from the air. Homes, parks, a golf course, and shops appeared along streets named American Beauty Drive, Capistrano, and names of other varieties of roses. Salt Lake County opened the Northwest Multi-Purpose Center at Thirteenth West and Third North streets and the Central City Multi-Purpose Center on Fourth East Street at about Seventh South. Clinics and a variety of recreation and social service programs were welcomed by each area's residents. Of necessity, the capital city paid close attention to its infrastruc-ture and resources during that period. A heavy snowmelt following the 1951-52 winter brought flooding. Streams filled the Mountain Dell Reservoir and swelled Emigration and City creeks, then rushed into the city. Streets in the eastern part of town were deluged; storm sewers flooded as waters poured down Thirteenth South Street to the Jordan River where obstructions sent floodwaters surging into west-side neighborhoods. Altogether the city spent more than a million dollars on damages, although without the city crews' efficient response, the sum could have been far higher. The floodwaters eventually reached the Great Salt Lake which also demanded attention. Valley officials had long assumed that the Great Salt Lake's salinity would neutralize or sterilize any pollutants from industries or residents along the rivers that fed it. By 1950 the error in that assumption became obvious. As the lake rose in the mid-1950s' raw sewage seeped from the north bays to the resorts on CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1970 215 the south shores. News of the pollution chased swimmers from the buoyant waves. High waters contributed to the demise of Saltair in another respect. The freshwater swimming pool the resort built to increase attendance washed out as the lake's level rose. In addition, fires in 1955 and 1956 were followed in 1957 by a freakish wind that toppled the giant racer. Not even ballroom dancing could keep the resort alive, although local musician Ardean Watts and his orchestra and nationally-known groups such as the Mills Brothers and Bill Haley and His Comets drew crowds. In 1959 Saltair's owners gave the resort to the state, and it closed. Eleven years later, Saltair burned to the ground as firefighters watched, unable to drive their trucks over the rotting boardwalks to put out the flames." Transportation became increasingly important as more residents commuted farther to their jobs. Even though valley residents were as addicted to car travel as any Americans, public transportation got a boost in 1953 when private bus companies united as the Utah Transit Authority. Mass transit use, nevertheless, declined as increasing num-bers of automobiles claimed the roads and interstates. By 1960 bus ridership plummeted to 12 million passengers with the average rider just fourteen years old-too young to drive. This was a significant decrease from the 33 million riders during World War 11, when most valley residents lived in Salt Lake City and auto-mobile use proved impractical and even unpatriotic. Bus ridership rose to over 19 million by 1980 as the service improved valley-wide, but automobiles remained the transportation of choice. Throughout these decades the facilities of the Salt Lake City Municipal Airport expanded and modernized, and it attained new status as the Salt Lake City International Airport in 1968. The extended runways and expanded terminals, however, could not pre-vent a tragedy. In 1965 a United Airlines 727 jet crashed when its landing gear failed to engage. The plane swerved, belly-to-concrete, caught fire, and skidded to a halt, flinging one engine one hundred feet north of the main wreckage. Forty people died, thirty-six were hospitalized, and another dozen came through without serious injury. The crew and passengers hailed from throughout the United States and included several Utahns, as well as two Federal Aviation Agency inspectors who survived.14 Salt Lake City politics told much about the times, as vividly illus-trated when former Governor J. Bracken Lee was elected mayor in 1962. An avid McCarthyite during the 1950s, Lee considered President Dwight D. Eisenhower a communist and won both the gov-ernorship and the mayor's seat by promising fiscal conservatism. Once mayor, Lee resisted urban renewal in the aging capital city and leaned heavily on city department budgets. In the process, he bal-anced the city budget and improved capital investments. Meanwhile Lee's fiscal conservatism contrasted with a feisty liberality when it came to personal habits. He enjoyed both liquor and gambling over a game of cards.'' Salt Lakers split in their opinions of Lee as a conservative. As mayor in the 1930s, Lee had reportedly run Price in Central Utah as a wide open town before politics brought him north. He claimed that only the sponsorship of J. Rueben Clark, a politically active member of the LDS First Presidency, had won him the governorship. In any case, Lee drew the church's support when, as mayor, he ran into such immediate controversy with a Mormon stalwart that a cross was burned on his lawn with the note, "Lee, you are a fool."16 Since the days of the American Party and the stockade, the rela-tionship between city government, the police department, and vice had intermittently raised tensions within the city. In 1955 an outside study described the police department as plagued by low morale and manpower, inadequate equipment, and a lack of public confidence. In response the city hired a chief who represented the moral and political values of many residents. W. Cleon Skousen was a vocal anti-communist and a former FBI agent who, in the 1940s, had aided director J. Edgar Hoover in inves-tigating suspected subversives. He then taught at Brigham Young University and would be linked with the archconservative John Birch Society in both Utah and Salt Lake counties. An author and popular speaker at LDS firesides and church meetings, Skousen blended LDS teachings and conservative, even reactionary, propaganda. As police CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1970 217 chief, he ran a tight department, one that the Deseret News praised and many Salt Lakers viewed with pride. Before his election as mayor, Lee had hedged his support of Skousen and the department of public safety. No sooner did Lee sit down with the city commission in January 1963, than he moved inef-fectually to eliminate the public safety commissioner's post as a cost-saving measure. Instead, commissioners voted Lee into the slot where he immediately set about reducing the police budget. He and Skousen disagreed about where to cut, and, in March, Lee fired Skousen without notice. There was more to Lee's action than commission meetings, how-ever. Skousen's department enforced the letter of city law, reportedly even arresting people who smoked on the streets. Vice raids netted slot machines, and officers broke up poker games including those at the Alta Club where Lee and his friends relaxed. When Lee com-plained about this vigilance, Skousen said his department was duty-bound to enforce the law as written. Skousen heard of his firing from a Tribune reporter whom he met by chance on the street. The public outcry resulted in Lee and Skousen debating on radio and television, but the firing stuck. In fact, when Deseret News editors prepared a scathing editorial blasting Lee and praising Skousen, the piece was killed by Henry D. Moyle, first counselor in the LDS First Presidency. Lee also described a telephone conversation in which McKay assured him of the church's support. Skousen received a copy of the killed editorial from a sympathetic News staffer and concluded the church had been reluctant to attack a "friendly gentile.'' Later both Lee and Skousen shrugged off a telling incident. The previous autumn, as Lee won the election and Skousen basked in the police department's heyday, Moyle had been involved in a minor traf-fic accident downtown. While he and a taxi driver exchanged license numbers, a woman parked beside the curb asked Moyle to move his car so that she could enter traffic. He obliged, then called police from a parking lot. Later Moyle complained to Skousen about the attitude of the responding officer, so Skousen reviewed the incident. Skousen ended up citing Moyle for moving his car before police arrived considering it tantamount to leaving the scene of an accident; Moyle paid a $100 fine. More importantly, perhaps, Skousen soon used the incident to publicly counter Lee's charges that he had cov-ered up an incident involving an LDS apostle. In airing the Moyle story, Skousen defended his own impartiality regardless of any embarrassment to the church official." Also Skousen's ultra-conservative politics did not represent the LDS hierarchy as a whole although the church was vocally anti-com-munist. Skousen's groups were visibly supported by Apostle Ezra Tafi Benson, but sometimes the church officially disavowed sympathy. Skousen's books, including The Naked Capitalist, would identify such national leaders as Eisenhower and Richard Nixon as pawns of the super-rich who schemed to take over the planet "through socialistic legislation where possible, but having no reluctance to use Communist revolution where necessary."18 While Lee prevailed in city government, Skousen founded the multi-state Freemen Institute which became an invisible force in elec-toral politics capable of packing school boards and the legislature. The Freemen's most conspicuous victory would come with the 1976 Senate election of a former Pittsburgh attorney, Orrin Hatch, unknown locally, who defeated the tenured Democrat Frank E. Moss. Lee and the LDS church took opposite positions when it came to legalizing the sale of liquor by the drink in restaurants and other public gathering places. In 1968 the question reached the ballot, and the Salt Lake City newspapers split as dramatically as they had during the 1880s. The Deseret News quoted President McKay: "Let no one be misled concerning the real intent. The true purpose is to make liquor more easily a~ailable.'"N~o t true, the Salt Lake Tribune countered; the central issue was not sale by the drink but "LEGAL sale by drink . . . The present law simply cannot be enforced. . . ." The issue raged over pulpits as well as public podiums, and the referendum failed by a two-to-one margin.*' Lee believed that upgrading a deteriorating downtown area and business district was a luxury the city could not afford; others dis-agreed- especially given the slippage of the tax base to suburban cities and the county. A Main Street beautification project began with change appearing first on the block between Fourth and Fifth South and Main and Second East streets. A new public library opened in 1964, and across an inner-block plaza, the Metropolitan Hall of Justice opened a year later, housing the district court and clerks' office. Soon a circuit court flanked one side of the hall and a new police department and jail the other. Unfortunately, Salt Lake County was accruing urban problems so rapidly that both the buildings and the legal system became burdened very quickly. Lee vigorously opposed building a civic auditorium, but the desire for such a structure had topped the city boosters' wish list far decades. A 1958 plan proposed a multi-purpose auditorium or coli-seum on the Utah State Fairgrounds. Murray immediately lobbied to have the center built on 3300 South Street, nearer the current center of population. In 1961 a joint city-county committee studied the matter, recommending the construction of a 14,000-seat arena to meet the convention and entertainment needs of the county for the next twenty- five years. In 1963 the Salt Lake County Commission appointed a Civic Auditorium Advisory Board which voted to locate the facility in downtown Salt Lake City rather than at the fairgrounds or in Murray. Accordingly, the commission approved a site owned by the LDS church between South Temple and Second South and West Temple and First West streets. A fifty-year lease charged the county $1 per year and provided the church exclusive use of the facility for as many as twenty-four days per year.21 The placement of the new Salt Palace effectively eliminated the old Japanese Town and various shops and businesses. In March 1967 city, county, and church officials broke ground for the $19.2 million edifice. In July 1969 band leader Eugene Jelesnik and the Salt Lake Philharmonic Orchestra struck a lively tune at the grand opening. The next day, singer Glen Campbell entertained a sell-out crowd of more than 13,000 fans. He was followed by singers Simon and Garfunkel and Elvis Presley, as well as comedian Bill Cosby, all of whom commanded large audiences.22 With the coming of the Salt Palace, sports claimed a new sophis-tication in the valley. Until then, baseball had proven the game of choice. In 1958 the Salt Lake Bees returned Pacific Coast League base-ball to the valley after a thirty-year hiatus. Their first game at Derks Field opened with considerable fanfare, despite remodeling. City In 1958, the Salt Lake Bees returned Pacific Coast League baseball to the val-ley. In 1959, the popular team came from dead last to win the pennant. (Utah State Historical Society) employees with tickets were given time off to attend the game, city courts closed that afternoon, and Governor George D. Clyde pro-claimed "Back the Bees Week.'' Nearly five thousand fans cheered the Bees to triumph over the Vancouver Mounties. Although the Bees finished fifth in the league that year, they brought in 2 18,000 tick-etholders and made a $15,000 profit. In 1959 the Bees thrilled Salt Lakers by coming from dead last to win the ~ennant.~' True to its increasingly suburban nature, Murray emphasized youth baseball. The city and county governments joined with the American Legion, the National Guard, and the Murray School District in organizing leagues and tournaments. In 1960 the Ken Price Ballpark-named for a retired police officer and youth baseball booster-opened, drawing 50,000 ticket-holders per year to its par-tially- roofed, lighted park. In addition, college sports remained popular. In 1953, for instance, the University of Utah-Brigham Young University football game was broadcast on Thanksgiving Day, one of the first local events to be televised and the first sports event. Basketball and ski CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1970 22 1 The Golden Eagles hockey team brought tens of thousands of cheering fans to the Salt Palace. (0. Wallace Kasteler-Deseret News) teams at the university consistently ranked All-Americans in national contention, as well. The Salt Palace offered new sport options. No sooner were plans for the Salt Palace in place, in fact, than the Western Hockey League awarded the city a team. The first game of the Salt Lake Golden Eagles filled the Salt Palace with six thousand cheering fans as the Eagles triumphed over San Diego. In May 1975 and again five years later, the Golden Eagles won the league championship before more than 1 1,000 fans on each occasion. Nor were the Eagles the only team drawing sports fans to the block just west and south of Temple Square. Six months after the Eagles debuted, Salt Lakers learned that the Los Angeles Stars would be moving to Salt Lake City. The Utah Stars brought fans a tri-umphant first year in 1970-71, capturing the American Basketball Association championship in the Salt Palace as they beat Kentucky before more than 13,000 screaming fans." Children and youth ranked high in Salt Lakers' considerations during this era; the high birthrate, the emphasis on family, and unrest around social issues all commanded attention. Education proved a challenging priority given the numbers of children in public class-rooms and institutions of higher education. This generation was not only numerous but infused with the ambition of parents who had survived the Great Depression and World War 11. Born into a quite different world, many children of the 1950s and 1960s considered post-high school education their due rather than an entitlement of privilege. From the Utah Technical College to the University of Utah Medical School, educational pro-grams that had long struggled for economic survival now soared on an influx of tuition, as well as federal and state dollars newly com-mitted to education. Although Utah spent a greater proportion of tax dollars for edu-cation than most states, the number of students made the per capita ratio nearly the lowest in the nation. The stresses became vividly apparent in May 1964 when public school teachers declared a two-day "recess" to protest crowded classrooms and low salaries. The strike sparked a boycott against Utah by the National Education Association, and several local strikes followed. Nor were numbers the only challenge. As the concept of equality spread into many sectors of society, educators defined a mission to CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1970 223 fill the needs of children with physical and mental disabilities. In 1969 the legislature removed handicapped children from the purview of the Department of Welfare and required the education system to adjust its services to the children's capabilities. Diagnostic services were assigned to the Division of Health. The Granite School District, for instance, quickly assumed oper-ation of the Granite Training Center, then set about building the Hartvigsen School for multiply challenged children. Valley-wide, edu-cable children were "mainstreamed" within regular public school buildings. Some self-contained classrooms continued while "resource rooms" focused the one-to-one teaching of specific skills and con-cepts. Technical education came into its own during this era, as well, boosted by the emphasis on military industry within the valley. In 1948 the Salt Lake Area Vocational School responded to a serious shortage of trained industrial and crafts workers. After some debate over location, the school rented the Troy Laundry building at about Fourth South and Sixth East streets. Remodeling and classes began almost simultaneously as more than one thousand students poured into day or night programs. The school struggled during its first years; the roof leaked and the boilers provided too much or too little heat. In addition, Governor Lee fought a running battle over state funding.25 Enrollment continued to rise at the renamed Salt Lake Trade Technical Institute, and talk of a junior college spread. The University of Utah lobbied against the idea, which was postponed. In 1960 the Utah Technical College planned a move to Redwood Road at about 4500 South. The new campus would provide an initial six buildings at a cost of $3.2 million and house business, nursing, architectural, printing, metal, electronic, and auto mechanic programs. Construction began early in the decade, and classes were first offered on the new campus in 1967.26 In 1973 Governor Calvin Rampton presided over a triumphant dedication of the technology building. Following an embarrassing moment when an electric "Technology Moves On" sign failed to light, college president Jay L. Nelson, who had overseen the challenges of growth and relocation, announced that the building would be named for Rampton, a strong supporter of technical education and educa-tion in general.27 Westminster College in Sugarhouse also expanded during this period. The college had gained accreditation as a four-year institu-tion in 1949; it benefited from the GI Bill as its student body rose to over three hundred. In 1955 a summer school was added, joined by a science curriculum two years later, and by a registered nurses' pro-gram in 1966. Masters' degrees in business and education were offered by 1982. These were exciting decades, also, at the University of Utah, where enrollment soared. The student body surpassed 10,000 in 1958 and 20,000 a decade later. Meanwhile the legislature passed the first state bonding bill for campus construction, which was promptly vetoed by Governor George D. Clyde. The public was having none of that, however, and a special session of the legislature passed the bill again, fueling the university's thirty-year plan for growth. Research gained an increasing emphasis within the medical school. In the early 1950s, cancer research absorbed many faculty members, and the university received more American Cancer Society research grants than any other facility its size. Also, the medical school became one in four nationally to join battle with an epidemic of infantile paralysis, or polio, which struck more than five thousand Americans each year, killing some and crippling others. Once a vac-cine was developed by Dr. Jonas Salk, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis began a mass immunization program. First, second, and third graders in selected schools throughout the county were dubbed "polio pioneers," as they lined up to receive a series of three injections. Half received the new vaccine, and half a placebo. When no negative reactions were reported, the children receiving the placebo went back for the real thing, and immunization clinics mushroomed in civic clubs, businesses, and LDS wards. Later Dr. Albert B. Sabin developed an oral vaccine. Even during the 1950s and increasingly by 1960, the university struggled to house the medical research programs, a rising number of medical students, and hospital patients. The Salt Lake County General Hospital had served patients for more than eighty years. Its services included research laboratories and an emergency room, as CLAIMINTHGE CROSSROA19D5S0-,1 970 225 The University of Utah Medical School was one of four research facilities to tackle the epidemic of infantile paralysis. Schoolchildren (dubbed Polio Pioneers) tested a new serum, which was then used for mass immunization. well as wards for general patient care. With time, however, the hospi-tal buildings had become dilapidated, in addition to being inconve-niently located for university doctors. A plan to erect a new hospital on the university campus gained state support, and a fund drive tapped federal grants and private donations, including $25,000 from the LDS church and $15,000 from the Utah Division of Kennecott Copper. Some resisted the idea of moving the hospital near the university campus because at Twenty-First South and State streets, it offered a central location to many valley residents; however, Max McBeth, hos-pital administrator, said most people entering the emergency room actually came for patient care and the majority of them lived north of 4200 South Street. Well-known retailer Maurice Warshaw, who headed the hospital's Citizens Advisory Board, released a statement saying that the old buildings at Twenty-First South were "no longer suitable for hospital use."28 And so change came. In 1965 an E-shaped University of Utah Medical Center welcomed ninety-three patients driven by ambulance from the Salt Lake County Hospital. The 500,000 square foot struc-ture provided wings for two hundred beds, clinical departments, and the medical school. Almost as fast as the new facility opened, how-ever, it was outgrown. The hospital soon resembled an obstacle course due to constant remodeling. Meanwhile, over the years, other buildings were added including colleges of nursing and pharmacy, and a medical library. Throughout, research steadily gained clinical use. Kidney trans-plants became increasingly common as new tests allowed greater pre-cision in the selection of compatible donors. In 1967 Dr. Willem J. Kolff was recruited to head the Division of Artificial Organs. Kolff's research team would receive worldwide notice for various protheses, even as it worked toward the creation of an artificial heart. In 1968 the Newborn Intensive Care Center opened in a single room with a pediatrician and four or five newborns. During its first year, the ten-ter treated two hundred infants." Salt Lake County residents closely watched the escalating war in Southeast Asia, and both support and protest tended to focus within the valley, where military industry played a major role. The state sent "more than its share of young men to Vietnam,"" placing fifth in mil-itary participation despite the deferments available for LDS missions, college attendance, or starting families, all of which were more com-mon among Utah's young men than among other Americans. The media gave the war considerable coverage, and community projects such as "Operation Friendship" in 1966 and "Operation School-house" a year later offered support to the South Vietnamese people. The University of Utah sponsored a marathon volleyball game for the latter cause, yet the campus also echoed the growing dissent voiced at universities and colleges nationwide. History professor James Clayton gained national attention with his argument that war- CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1 970 227 Protest against the Vietnam War in Utah centered in Salt Lake County. A large rally and counter-rally took place at the City and County Building in 1965. In this photograph protesters prepare for a peace march in 1967. related costs would eventually triple the $330 billion cost of the war, in addition to the human suffering that any war inflicted. Between 1959 and 1969, he noted, more had been spent on the Vietnam War than during the nation's history for police protection or higher edu-cation in public institution^.^' As television brought the war into the nation's living rooms with an immediacy never before known, many students voiced outrage. Styles on campuses changed as long straight hair, bell-bottom trousers, bare feet and midriffs, peace signs, large dogs, and clouds of cigarette smoke visually identified passive or active dissenters. In 1965 a protest march in Salt Lake City drew forty demonstra-tors; by 1969 more than four thousand joined a daylong moratorium beginning with speeches at the University of Utah Union Building followed by a march down South Temple Street to the Federal Building on First South and State streets. Speakers demanded the United States' withdrawal from Vietnam, and Reverend G. Edward Howlett of St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral read the names of Utahns who had died in the war. Westminster College students also gathered to debate the efficacy of the war. That same day, more than two hundred counter-demonstrators gathered at the City and County Building for a pro-war rally. Salt Lake City commissioner Jake Garn told the crowd that "if the mora-torium were successful, the United States would be communist and 40,000 American lives would have been sacrificed in vain." In fact, he "blamed protestors for prolonging the war and aiding the enemy.'"* All in all, the Salt Lake Tribune declared the moratorium on 15 October 1969 the largest peace demonstration in the state's history. Most protests at the University of Utah and in the valley were peaceful, and generally the administration granted students a forum; however, a bomb was set in the Naval Science Building and an old barracks in use as a bookstore was burned. Several arrests were made following one protest, and administrators sided with the prosecution while the Utah chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union sup-ported the students. The ACLU also represented Henry L. Huey in a successful national effort to prevent the military from reclassifying the draft status of protestors." Governor Calvin Rampton refused to become ruffled by protes-tors despite the defiant rhetoric that upset some officials on campus and civic leaders downtown. When a group turned up one evening on the governor's doorstep, the students were welcomed by First Lady Lucybeth Rampton, given soft drinks, and seated for a chat with the governor while Highway Patrol officers listened nearby. After taking a few photographs for The Chronicle, the students dis-per~ ed.~' Rampton also recalled Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara's attempt to seek solace on Alta's ski slopes during the especially snowy winter of 1964-65. Rampton received a telephone call from President Lyndon Johnson who wanted to know if Alta was, in fact, snow-bound. When Rampton confirmed, Johnson snapped, "Goddamn it, get him out of there!" Rampton recruited a helicopter from the Utah Air National Guard (whose volunteers spent active time in Vietnam) to route the secretary back to the war CLAIMINTGHE CROSSROAD19S5,0 -1 970 229 During these decades both communications and the arts received significant boosts from the fast-growing university. In the mid- 1950s, the university instigated educational radio and television stations KUER and KUED, respectively. In 1958 KUED broadcast from the basement of the old Student Union Building, but both facilities were relocated on President's Circle with KUER in the basement of Kingsbury Hall and KUED in the basement of the Music Building. Communications professor Boyer Jarvis initiated the program Civic Dialogue to discuss public issues, and in 1965 KUED began broad-casting The Governor's Press Conference. Both shows would be long-lived. Similarly the performing arts took flight. In 1947 Maurice Abravanel became director of the Utah Symphony, and he proved a powerful force in shaping the valley's cultural life. Abravanel led the orchestra to performances in Carnegie Hall and Europe, gaining national and international acclaim, but he also conducted concerts for the state's rural communities. The maestro opened Saturday morning rehearsals in the Tabernacle to thousands of schoolchildren. He explained each selection with the reminder that, in a domed hall where a falling pin could be clearly heard, any whispers would cer-tainly assault his sensitive ears. In 1951 Utah native Willam F. Christensen left his directorship of the San Francisco Ballet to found the nation's first university ballet department at the University of Utah. The University Theatre Ballet gave its first performance two years later, which included "Swan Lake Act 11." In 1955 Christensen's version of The Nutcracker premiered in Kingsbury Hall. When the university also provided space for the Utah Symphony, a rich relationship ensued between the ballet, the orches-tra, and the university. In 1963 Christensen and arts patron Glenn Walker Wallace gained a $175,000 Ford Foundation grant and founded the Utah Civic Ballet. The professional company, renamed Ballet West, toured nationally and internationally in the decades to come. In addition, Joan Jones Woodbury and Shirley Russon Ririe formed the Ririe- Woodbury Dance Company in 1964 which became a full-time mod-ern dance company in 1970 and toured widely. A grant in 1966 by the Rockefeller Foundation gave rise to the Children's Dance Theater, formed by teacher and lecturer Virginia Tanner, a leader in the area of creative dance.36 The University of Utah also set about easing an ache that had existed in the artistic community since the destruction of the Salt Lake Theatre. In 1962 a modern replacement, Pioneer Memorial Theatre, was dedicated on the west side of the campus. Proposed by C. Lowell Lees who headed the theater department, the project gained crucial support from the university, David 0. McKay, and Kennecott. Lees became artistic director, followed by Keith Engar. Welcoming more than 100,000 patrons each year, the Pioneer Theatre Company became an independent associate of the univer-sity, bringing professional talent and internship programs to the val-ley. Inevitably, then, Salt Lake County became increasingly sophisti-cated as education and culture blossomed. The LDS proportion of the population neared 70 percent, higher than any period since state-hood although the percentage in Salt Lake City proper fell with the exodus to the suburbs. Other religious denominations flourished despite their obvious minority status. By 1965 more than 18,000 Roman Catholics lived in Salt Lake County and more than three thousand Baptists, Presbyterians, and Methodists. Episcopalians tal-lied over two thousand, and Lutheran, Congregationalist, and Greek Orthodox parishioners numbered at around one thousand each." In addition, numbering in the hundreds were members of the Jehovah's Witnesses, Assembly of God, Disciples of Christ, Church of Christ, Christian Scientists, Seventh Day Adventists, Unitarians, Buddhists, Nazarenes, Jews, Christian Missionary Alliance, Christian Reformed, and Evangelical Free congregations.'Vn the 1970s, a small group of Salt Lake Friends revived the Quaker group organized after World War 11. In significant and proportionate ways, these congregations played a meaningful role within society's framework. In July 1966, for instance, the Methodists opened Crossroads Urban Center on Fourth East between Third and Fourth South streets. The center would become a force within the city's inner community, providing emer-gency food, clothing, and social program^.'^ Agencies such as Utah CLAIMINTHGE CROSSROA1D95S0,- 1 970 23 1 Issues, first sheltered by the St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral, and Utahns Against Hunger lobbied to the benefit of the poor. The Unitarians' Elliott Hall on Thirteenth East and Sixth South streets succored diverse groups during their fledgling stages, includ-ing protestors of the Vietnam War. Under Reverend Michael Cunningham, Planned Parenthood got its start there in 1969, as did the Salt Lake Acting Company which would become infamous for its irreverent spoof of LDS culture, Saturday's Voyeur.40 Thus the 1950s and 1960s would be remembered nationwide for the civil rights movement, civic unrest, and issues of fairness. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, civil rights bills met with fierce resis-tance on Capitol Hill, but in the mid- 1960s, under the Rampton administration, fair housing, employment, and public accommoda-tion bills became law. Effecting real change in any arena, however, required time and at least as much effort as patience. "Of course, back in the '60s-in the early 60s, people like me had a hard time," African-American Billy W. Mason recalled in an oral history for Salt Lake County's Neighborhood House. Here and just about everywhere else. In those days, black people didn't have any place to go bowling, you know. We didn't have a place to go roller skating. Oh, there was a Normandy Skating Rink on Sixth South and Main. The only time we could go roller skating there was from 12 o'clock at night until 1:00. One hour. Yeah. We couldn't eat at certain restaurants, or get into cer-tain social clubs. . . . . . . That's why we got to keep talking about those early days-so no one forgets those times. And we have to talk about how the civil rights movement-the human rights bill-brought about changes. I remember the day we picketed Rancho Lanes. With mem-bers of the NAACP, we went there to bowl. The guy says, "You can't bowl here." So, we picketed. We had about 50 or 60 people with us. Blacks and whites. Boy, it's rough when you have to think about picketing a bowling alley to achieve equality. Well, finally, after some time, we got to bowl, just like everybody else. Then, as the movement continued, more changes came about. Segregation in housing changed and jobs got a little betters4' Alberta Henry moved to Salt Lake City in 1949 after "falling in love" with the surrounding mountains. Before long, Henry learned that few African-American students attended the University of Utah, and fewer still graduated. She made it her business to investigate the financial aid and scholarships available. Even when potential grants were discovered, however, the director in charge refused to discuss them with her."' Gradually Henry gained allies within the university administra-tion even as the privately-supported Alberta Henry Education Foundation aided students from every ethnic group. Henry herself enrolled for classes in an effort to identify biased instructors. She enjoyed her classwork so much that she earned a bachelor of science degree in elementary education. Even before she received her diplo-mas, however, in 197 1 the university awarded Henry an honorary doctorate to salute her service to the community and the university. The Chicano movement inspired in 1967 the Spanish Speaking Organization for Community Integrity and Opportunity organized by Jorge Arce-Laretta, Ricardo Barbero, and Father Jerald Merrill. Within the first five years, SOCIO's membership expanded from five hundred to over 17,000. SOCIO encouraged cultural programs, including the Chicano Studies Program at the University of Utah and the Utah Ballet Folklorico. The latter performed widely and taught fokloric dance both to children and university students. In addition, singers and instrumentalists were popular in a variety of settings from the singing of mass at St. Francis Xavier in Kearns to perform-ing at numerous weddings and receptions. The LDS Lucero Branch also provided an ethnic center and provided entertainment to a vari-ety of groups valley-wide.43 In Salt Lake County, then, issues of fairness and social activism took root in the 1950s and 1960s as the valley responded to the issues of the time. Great changes swept the nation and influenced the capi-tal county and its peoples. The controversial and momentous civil rights movement was only the beginning of a "rights rev~lution"~" that would reshape many facets of society. The Vietnam War raised increasing debate as warfare spread into other Southeast Asian coun-tries and seemed ever less likely to bring the victory Americans had come to expect. CLAIMINTHGE CROSSROA1D95S0,- 1 970 233 Locally, issues of growth, prosperity, equality, and accountability jostled for expression amid the national questions. The valley was no longer divided into city and countryside due to the migration from Salt Lake City south into new neighborhoods and burgeoning cities. The southwest valley boasted a small but vigorous crop of civic lead-ers determined to give those communities a stronger voice in the public forum. Educators were expected to welcome and challenge ever-increasing numbers of students from kindergarten to graduate school, from the multiply disabled to the intellectually gifted. And once the dreaded polio virus was vanquished, medical researchers looked increasingly toward keeping underdeveloped infants alive and replacing damaged body parts with transplants or protheses. Despite the challenges, optimism held swayd5 as leisure time allowed enjoyment of sports and recreation, fine arts, and commu-nity activities. Both dominant ideals of the era persisted-the happy and secure nuclear family and a community of individuals equally entitled to the good life. These overlapping visions expressed between 1950-70 promised to unsettle and enliven the decades to come. 1. Elaine Jarvik, "Probing the Power Structure," in Utah Holiday, May 1976, 4. The article quotes Elder Neal Maxwell, Commissioner Con Harrison, and Senator W. Hughes Brockbank to this effect. 2. Thomas G. Alexander and James B. Allen, Mormons and Gentiles: A History of Salt Lake City (Boulder, Colorado: Pruett Publishing Co., 1984), 278. 3. John S. McCormick, Salt Lake City: The Gathering Place (Windsor Hills, California: Windsor Publications, 1980), 90. 4. Salt Lake Tribune, 2 1 March 1963. 5. Martha Sonntag Bradley, Sandy City (Sandy: Sandy City Corp., 1993), 128. 6. Ibid., 133-36. 7. Michael J. Gorrell, The Histo y of West Valley City 1848-1 990 (West Valley City: West Valley Civic Committee, 1993), 12. 8. Ibid., 13. 9. Ibid., 14-15. 10. Ibid., 16. 11. Michael N. Martinez, "In the Beginning," unpublished manuscript in possession of the author. The flavor of growing up in Lark is also cap-tured in Michael N. Martinez, "Next Time," in Utah Holiday, June 1991, 26-27, reprinted in John S. McCormick and John R. Sillito, A World We Thought We Knew: Readings in Utah History (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1995), 407-10. 12. Ibid. 13. Nancy D. McCormick and John S. McCormick, Saltair (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1985), 82,94, 95. 14. Salt Lake Tribune, 12 November 1965. 15. Dennis L. Lythgoe, Let 'Em Holler: A Political Biography of J. Bracken Lee (Salt Lake City: Utah State Historical Society, 1982), 34, 247-48. 16. Ibid., 273. 17. Ibid., 279. 18. Robert Gottlieb and Peter Wiley, America's Saints: The Rise of Mormon Power (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1984), 91-92. 19. Deseret, 1 776-1 976: A Bicentennial Illustrated History of Utah by the Deseret News (Salt Lake City: Deseret News Publishing Company, 1975), 119. 20. Ibid. 2 1. "Salt Palace Milestones," Salt Lake County public relations infor-mation, 1994. 22. Ibid. 23. John R. Sillito, "The Bees of Summer," Utah Holiday, May 1984, 40-41, 78. 24. "Salt Palace Milestones." 25. Jay L. Nelson, The First Thirty Years: A History of Utah Technical College at Salt Lake (Salt Lake City: Utah Technical College, 1982), 129. 26. Ibid., 258-59. 27. Ibid., 278-80. 28. Deseret News, 9 July 1965. 29. The Gift of Health Goes On: A History of the University of Utah Medical Center (Salt Lake City: Office of Community Relations, University of Utah Health Sciences Center, 1990), 58, 65. 30. Allan Kent Powell, "The Vietnam Conflict and Utah," Utah History Encyclopedia, Allan Kent Powell, ed. (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1994), 6 13. 31. Ibid., 613-14. 32. Ibid., 614. CLAIMINTHGE CROSSROA1D95S0,- 1 970 235 33. Linda Sillitoe, Friendly Fire: The ACLU in Utah (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1996). 34. Calvin L. Rampton, As I Recall (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1989), 2 18-1 9. 35. Ibid., 137. 36. Loabelle Mangelson-Clawson, "Modern Dance in Utah," Utah History Encyclopedia, 124. 37. Milford Randall Rathjen, "The Distribution of Major Non- Mormon Denominations in Utah," M.A. thesis, University of Utah, 1966, 1 17-39. 38. Ibid. 39. Alexander and Allen, Mormons and Gentiles, 293,3 12. 40. Stan Larson and Lorile Horne Miller, Unitarianism in Utah: A Gentile Religion in Salt Lake City, 1891-1 991 (Salt Lake City: Freethinker Press, 1991), 142-44. 41. Billy W. Mason, in Harmony Will Embrace Us All: A Collection from the Neighborhoods of Onequa, Jackson, and Guadalupe With Pride! Eileen Hallet, ed. (Salt Lake City: Neighborhood Housing Stories, 1995), 47-48. 42. Alberta Henry, "The Gift Made Possible," Remembering: The University of Utah, Elizabeth Haglund, ed. (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 198 l), 175-80. 43. Carol A. Edison, Anne F. Hatch, and Craig R. Miller, eds., Hecho en Utah (Salt Lake City: Utah Arts Council, 1992), 16-18, 37. 44. This term is used by Samuel Walker, In Defense of American Liberties (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), a history of the American Civil Liberties Union. 45. The increase in financial security nationally and locally is shown in the rise of per capita income. According to the U.S. Census, in 1950 the national per capita income stood at $1,498 and, in Utah, at $1,332. By 1970, the national per capita income rose to $4,047, while Utah's per capita income stood at $3,291.