Jerry Hatch and the hardest winter on the Arbon mail route, 1929

On February 22, 1929, the Pocatello Tribune ran a long article about the man who carried the mail between Pocatello and Arbon Valley, Jerry B. Hatch, and the winter he was having. As far as he could find out, he told the paper, no carrier on the route had known a harder year. In words the paper put in quotation marks, his route was the "damndest in seven sates [states], including Missouri."

The route

A star route had brought the mail out from Pocatello since the 1910s, carried in turn by Lorin Bailey and others. In March 1921 Oliver Foutz took it over from Marsden Talion, and on March 31 the Tribune ran its Arbon column under the headline "Arbon Valley Now Has a Daily Mail," though only one item in it was about the mail:

The farmers are now wearing a broad smile. At last the long hoped for has happened. (The daily mail.)

By November Foutz was bringing the mail daily by way of Crystal to Pauline and Arbon. For part of the 1920s the route ran over Mink Creek, as told in Mail, grain and the Mink Creek road to Pocatello. In 1929 it went west from Pocatello to Michaud and then south across the Fort Hall Reservation.

Who he was

The article says nothing of Hatch's past. A Jerry B. Hatch homesteaded east of Pauline and worked on the county road crews there in 1914 and 1915; his homestead, patented in 1919, later became part of Dave Lusk's ranch, as the Lusk family page tells. His wife, Zina, was a sister of Thomas O. Wheatley of Pauline, whose death notice in February 1928 listed her as Mrs. Zina Hatch of Pocatello. No source read says the homesteader and the carrier were the same man, but the name, the dates and the Pocatello home make it probable. He had worn out five cars on the route in two years, the Tribune said.

The winter of 1928–29

On January 27 the Tribune reported that the Michaud flats, like many places in southeastern Idaho, had more snow than in a number of years, much of it badly drifted; air mail pilots between Pocatello and Salt Lake had given up "the Arbon valley route" for the railroad by McCammon because the snow hid their landmarks.

During the recent blizzard he could drive no farther than Michaud, six miles out, on six days. Beyond Michaud, on the stretch to "Gosses ranch" six miles south, he got horses to break through to the mouth of Rattlesnake Creek, and as a last resort packed the three mail bags on his back through the storm. On those days only "he and the airplanes" made the trip. At the creek mouth two assistants he had hired, one from Pauline and one from Crystal, met him and took the mail on to their post offices.

Twice in sixty days he stripped the gears of his car and was stranded on the reservation road. The first time a government trapper, M. Wilkins, rescued him; the second time Henry Hardy, described by the paper as an Indian who happened to be passing by. Once, when his assistants were nearly three hours late at the meeting place, the cold almost killed him.

The road commissioners' help made things worse. Graders cleared the main highway and banked the snow on both sides, and the next storm filled the cut. The Tribune of February 8 quoted a traveler, A. Jensen, who had reached Pocatello the day before, as saying that traffic had to leave the road and take to the sagebrush. For a time Hatch got the mail through only twice a week.

A ride to Crystal

About two weeks before the article, "Miss Emma Green of Crystal," stranded in Pocatello and anxious to get home to her milk cows, rode out with the mail. At the junction of the roads, the man who carried the mail the last eight miles came with a pack horse and a saddle horse instead of the usual cart-sled. She went on anyway, she and her suitcase on one horse, the carrier and the mail on the other, halting every quarter mile or so to rest the horses. "If I ever prayed in my life," she said, "[it] was then."

Crystal did have a rancher named Emma Green, Emma George Green, daughter of the homesteader Henrietta George; but she had married in 1913 and the paper calls its traveler "Miss," so the two may not be the same woman.

Afterward

In October 1932 the Tribune reported that Mink Creek farmers were pressing to have the route changed. The carrier still drove out by Michaud to Arbon and Crystal and came back the same way, 34 miles from Crystal alone; coming home over the divide and down Mink Creek would, its backers said, have saved 14 miles and brought the mail to a dozen or more families who had to fetch their own. The papers read do not say what came of the request, how long Hatch kept the route, who his assistants were, or where the Goss ranch stood.

On this site: the first airplane over the valley, dated there to July 1929, though the January report has mail planes crossing the valley that winter; who kept the Arbon post office; the Daniels family, whose Theo Daniels carried this mail from July 1922; and Frank Kulock, who died in a storm coming home from Pauline with the mail in 1922.

The article as printed

Pocatello Tribune, February 22, 1929, page 7. Transcribed from the page scan. Printed misspellings are kept. A few full stops that are missing or too faint to read in the scan have been restored.

Winter of 1928-29 Most Difficult in History of Mail Route to Arbon Valley
The wind is howling without, gray clouds sweep by over head, it is far too cold to snow but the air is chocked with a prickling spray of fine ice crystals being swirled skyward by the cyclonic antics of the wind. The air mail pilot soaring over sees a lone farm house here and there among the protecting coves of hills or on the windward side of a grove of snarled "snappers." In these houses there is nothing visible to indicate life, but a feeble column of smoke from the housetops shredded to pieces as it leaves the stack. Inside the inhabitants, farmers, settle themselves closer to the fire. Now the master looks out the window, shrugs his shoulders and sighs with emphasis "It in't fit for a dog to be out today." So he whiles away the hours reading, until reading material becomes scarce, his thoughts turn to the daily mail, and then without a thought of the weather he asks: "I wonder if the mail is in yet?" And here is where Jerry B. Hatch, the U. S. mail carrier whose route is the "damndest in seven sates, including Missouri," comes into the story. Jerry carries the mail between Pocatello and Arbon.
According to Mr. Hatch, this has been the most difficult year in the history of mailmen carrying that route as far as he can determine. For six days during the recent blizzand he could manage to penetrate the "fury of the elements" a distance of but six miles, to Michaud, about one-eighth of the way, that is by automobile. And incidentally Mr. Hatch has in the course of his duties worn out five cars within the past two years. From Michaud to Gosses ranch, six miles south, he secured horses to break through to the mouth of Rattlesnake creek, and had to pack as a last resort the three bags of mail on his back through a blinding snow storm. On these days he stated that only "he and the airplanes" made the trip. He has had hired for some time two assistant mail carriers, one from Pauline and one from Crystal, who meet him at the mouth of Rattlesnake creek and carry the mail to the two respective postoffices.
Two times in the past sixty days Hatch has become stranded "a thousand miles from nowhere," when he striped the gears off of his car. The first time he was rescued by a government trapper, M. Wilkins, and the second time by an Indian, Henry Hardy, who happened to be passing by. City folks cannot realize how easily one could freeze to death in a case like this in such a place, as the road leads across the wind swept plains of the Indian reservation.
Suffered From Cold
One day while waiting for his assistants at the usual place and they being delayed for one reason or another for nearly three hours, Hatch had a narrow escape from death, the cold being so intense. Then the weather changed suddenly, apparently for the better, but not for long as the snow began to fall and continued to fall util no trace of a road remained and until the return trip to Pocatello became "next door to being absolutely impossible."
Later the weather cleared and the road commissioners wishing to do a good turn, ordered the main highway cleared of snow. This was done by graders, heaping the snow into embankments on either side of the road. Shortly afterwards they found what a dreadful mistake had been made, for another combination snow and wind storm arose, filling the chasm level full with much of it overflowing on the windward side. Then the road did become impassable. It was during this season that Hatch was unable to get the mail through more than twice a week.
About two weeks ago Miss Emma Green of Crystal became stranded in Pocatello. She was in a hurry to get home in order that she might sooth the raging tempers of a coveted milch herd. She insisted on making the trip with the mail carrier. By the time the outfit got to the junction of the road ways she was "froze beyond comprehension." But the worst was yet to come since the man who carried the mail over the remaining eight miles arrived on the scene with a pack horse for the mail and saddle horse for himself, instead of the usual cart-sled.
What to go—go all the way back to Pocatello or to attempt the final stage on horseback. After much deliberation, she decided on the latter. She and her suitcase rode the one animal, while the temporary carrier and the mail bags road the other. Snow, Snow, and snow, floundering of the horses, up and on again for maybe a quarters of a mile, another halt that the foam flecked horses might catch their breath but not for long as the mercury was "away way down" and a chill might mean a dead horse from cramps or pneumonia.
A century later she reached her destination much more dead than alive. She said: "If I ever prayed in my life, is was then."