Editor's note: This is the final installment of Ron Marlow’s "Looking Back" series. We hope you have enjoyed the series as much as we have enjoyed bringing it to you.
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Bill Snyder was the acknowledged bully of Boomerang. His acquaintances were afraid of him - especially when he was under the influence of liquor. He was a big man with wide broad shoulders, about six-foot three inches tall and weighed over 220 pounds. He lived in a little White House with his wife adjacent to the Payette Feed and Grain Mill. Across the street was Bank’s Saloon which he frequented.
One day Bill got in an argument at the bar with a patron. After an angry exchange, he threw down his drink, doubled up his fist and struck the man on the jaw, knocking him down and out the back door. The victim lay unconscious on the ground. Bill looked him over and decided he'd killed the man. Without saying a word he stepped over the man and briskly walked over to nearby railroad tracks to catch a slow moving freight out of state to Oregon. After cold water was poured on the downed man he revived. Bill came back home after sobering up.
It was a warm day in May and Bill had been drinking all day at Stirm's Brewery. By 11 p.m. he was his obnoxious self again and announced he was leaving Boomerang and his wife, after he went home to get his little black and brown dog. On his way home a figure stepped out from behind a shade tree in front of Dave Lauer’s store. A shotgun blast rang out and the slug tore a hole in his right side the size of a silver dollar. Half a block away his wife heard the blast and came running. She screamed for help as she knelt down beside her husband, then cradled his head in her lap as he died.
Bill was buried in the Washoe Cemetery and his wife attended with a noticeably bruised face and black eye from a beating. Thus ended the life of one of Boomerang’s most notorious thugs. The assailant was never apprehended.
Jack Geisler came to Boomerang in 1883 and started working for Dave Lamme. Besides owning the first store in town, Lamme had a ranch in Star. On this particular day he was at his ranch and left Jack in charge at Boomerang. Frank Moss came over and wanted to borrow Lamme’s wagon to go to Caldwell. Jack let him have it. When Dave came home in the evening he missed the wagon and was very upset that it had been loaned out. The next day Frank brought back the wagon, much to the relief of Lamme who, after inspecting the entire wagon box, remarked that everything was intact. He proceeded to open a compartment and then retrieved $10,000 in gold dust that he'd hidden and hadn't taken out.
--- From the stories of Bill Case
One of the great Payette story tellers passed away during the last decade - Herman Broadersen. His father was an early resident from Germany who farmed on the northern edge of town. He came over to the U. S. herded sheep in the Seven Devils region. His fear of Indians made him decide to try a vocation closer to civilization. There were several friends from the old country in the Payette Valley. He dug ditches, bought a farm and raised prunes. A packing shed was built near the railroad tracks and after World War II Herman took over a business that lasted until 1950.
Herman married a beautiful girl, Harriet. They made a home near the old home place and had flowers and a garden.
One day he and Harriet were setting out plants and the front yard when Herman noticed a middle-aged man, an Indian, trudging past his place. He spotted Harriet in her shorts and stopped to watch. Herman came over to him. The Indian spoke up and asked who the woman was. "She's my wife," was the reply. "A mighty fine looking woman. Want to sell her?" the Indian asked. This question was a total shock to Herman, so he decided to play along, and answered, "Well, maybe." "How much you want?" was asked and Herman replied, "How about $1.38?" "Come back later" the Indian said and went on up the road.
Several days later, Harriet and Herman were still setting out plants in the yard when down the road came the Indian. He walked up to Herman, with outstretched hand that held a silver dollar and some change. Herman stuttered a few times wondering how he'd get out of this one. "I meant a thousand dollars and thirty-eight cents" muttered Herman. The Indian stuck his money back in his pocket, turned around, and walked away muttering "white man still talk with forked tongue."
For years afterward Harriet would bring up the subject and remind her husband that she wasn't that cheap a woman. Herman knew it all along.
It was a warm spring day as N.A. Jacobsen sat in his office pondering whether or not to plow up some hay ground to set out more prune trees. The fruit business had been very good - better than raising cattle. A young boy threw open the front door and screamed "Carl has fallen into the river. Come quick."
N.A. put down his cigar, put on his hat and a half ran after the boy. When they reached the river, where the boys had been playing, there was Carl, lying on the ground coughing up water. It seems a boy had jumped into the Payette River, pulled Carl out, and saved him from drowning. N.A. knelt beside his son and ask if he were OK. He nodded and crawled to his knees then stood up very unsteadily. His dad held on to him for a few minutes, then turned to the boy who rescued Carl, thanked him and said, "Come up to the house, boy, and I'll give you all the prunes you can eat." The boys went home to get out of their wet clothes.