Home Again Blues

Book number ten! My goal was to finish Home Again Blues this spring, but COVID-19 threw me for a loop (like everyone else, I’m sure), so I guess the end of June is good enough. I’m alternating between my Utah novels and my Gothic novels, so here is the first of my 1920s southern Utah mysteries.

“What do you do with a secret that might get someone killed?”

Tenny assumes it’s a joke when someone writes to her advice column on a matter of life and death. After serving as a nurse in the Great War, she doesn’t want more trouble. But when a local turns up dead on her neighbor’s southern Utah homestead, she feels responsible. The murderer is probably an outsider: the prospector looking for gold, a Wobbly hiding from the law, or the handsome-but-irritating barnstormer pilot hanging around town. To clear her friend’s name, though, Tenny will have to look closer at the secrets all around her.

 

Explore the world in your pajamas

As we’re all looking for ways to spend our social distancing time, I’m joining with many other authors to offer discounted ebooks to people looking to get away in their imaginations while we can’t go anywhere in person. And if anyone has found any online resources they love, please post them in the comments for others (the Google Arts & Culture virtual tours are great, for instance – I took my kids to the British Museum yesterday).

My newest book, Wishwood, is on sale this weekend.

Kate agrees to an arranged marriage with the mysterious Thomas Westwood to save her family’s estate, but not everyone welcomes her at Wishwood, her husband’s crumbling manor. The family members talk about a curse, lights move through the ruins at night, and Kate’s maid won’t spend the night in the house. Thomas is hiding something from Kate as well, but as she grows closer to him, a series of accidents makes her suspect that someone is willing to kill to keep Wishwood’s secrets buried in the past.

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In addition, my WWII novella, Letters from the Homefront, is 99 cents for the next five days.

War doesn’t end on the battlefield.

December 1944. Evie’s older brother, Albert, is missing in action in the Pacific Theater, and every day she sees the horrible effects of World War II while working at Bushnell Military Hospital in Utah. Being a medical secretary seems like a small effort in the face of the war, but she’s proud to be part of Bushnell’s experiment with an important new weapon in the fight: penicillin. Posters cover the walls, reminding the employees to watch out for spies, but when Evie realizes that some of her files are missing, her supervisors think she’s being careless. It’s up to Evie and amputee veteran Glenn to find out who at the hospital is hiding a dangerous secret before tragedy strikes the hospital.

Inspired by real events at Bushnell Hospital in Brigham City, Utah.

HomefrontFrontCover

Stay well and stay kind!

 

The not-so-Spanish Flu of 1918

Since we’re all thinking about pandemics right now, I’ve been reading again about the 1918 Influenza, which may be the last time a pandemic caused this much global chaos. It’s too early to really compare Covid-19 and the 1918 Influenza, but knowing a little about what happened in 1918 might help us face 2020 with cooler heads.

First, the influenza wasn’t really Spanish. In fact, it probably started in the United States and spread overseas because of the movements of troops involved in World War I. The reason it was called the Spanish Flu was that Spain, which stayed neutral in the war, was one of the few countries that reported the truth about the devastation of the disease. The combatant countries, including the United States, tried to downplay the influenza outbreak to boost morale. Of course, newspapers’ declarations that the dangers were small or already past probably didn’t make people feel any better as they watched loved ones get ill and even die. If people trusted newspapers before, the Influenza pandemic made them much more skeptical about believing everything they read.

About 500,000 million people across every part of the world are estimated to have caught the 1918 Influenza (out of a population of close to 2 billion, so almost a quarter of all humans), and 25 to 50 million to have died, making the death toll 1 to 2% of the global population (In comparison, the Black Death of the Middle Ages killed 30 to 60% of the populations it infected). Young adults were hit the worst, perhaps because their robust immune systems violently overreacted to the virus. More US soldiers died of the Influenza than from the war itself, though wartime conditions may have weakened people’s resistance. With large numbers of unprepared people getting sick and dying at once, some large US cities had to bury the dead in mass graves.

Because so many doctors and nurses were serving in the war, cities in the United States saw a shortage of medical professionals to care for the sick, with stories circulating of nurses being kidnapped to care for ill families (though how these desperately sick people supposedly forced the nurses to stay is unclear). Regardless, as in 2020, the medical professionals and other essential service providers made heroic efforts to help communities overwhelmed by illness.

Below: Overflowing influenza hospital ward, courtesy of the Library of Congress

SpanishFluWardWalterReed

Wearing masks was extremely popular as a way to try to prevent the flu from spreading. Evidence suggests it did not work.

Our ancestors from 1918 eventually practiced social distancing, too, and that did work to slow the spread of the disease. Public gatherings were banned, and schools and universities closed, some being converted to temporary hospitals. This was so successful in some places that by Christmas of 1918, officials decided to relax the rules for the holiday. This led to a new outbreak of the disease at the beginning of 1919. As an example of how social distancing could protect a population, remote Kane County in southern Utah did not see any deaths from the 1918 Influenza until February of 1920, just as the pandemic was winding down.

To learn more about the 1918 “Spanish Flu” pandemic, I recommend John Barry’s The Great Influenza.

Below: Image of a masked mail carrier during the 1918 Influenza pandemic, courtesy of US National Archives.

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Utah WASP and other flying women

Happy Veteran’s Day, and thank you to the brave men and women who have served and sacrificed for our freedom.

And happy book birthday to Utah Women: Pioneer, Poets & Politicians!

To celebrate both, I’m writing today about the female Civil Air Patrol pilots and WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots) of World War II.

My grandfather, Frank Brooksby, was a pilot over occupied France during World War II, and his brother Victor was killed in action flying on the Pacific Front of the war. The Brooksby family seems to have been drawn to the sky, and the Brooksby girls were no exception. Family photos like the one below of three of my great aunts during World War II always interested me, and I’ve finally found out a little more about the experiences of the Brooksby girls and other female WWII pilots.

1944 July 2; Edith, Vivien, IsabelleAmerican women didn’t fly in combat in World War II (though the Russian “night witches” did!). Instead, they flew missions stateside, freeing up men to fly overseas. WASP women tested and repaired airplanes and shuttled planes, people, and cargo around the country. Women in the WASP program even flew planes hauling targets so the male pilots could practice shooting live ammo!  Thirty-nine of the slightly over 1,000 WASP volunteers died in service to their country.

The Women Air Service Pilots were not granted status as veterans until 1977 when they petitioned Congress to have their service officially recognized by the history books. Though their recognition came late, they played an important role in proving that women’s minds and bodies could handle the complexities of flying, even during menstruation (yes, that was in serious doubt at the time). Latino, Asian, and Native American women flew with the WASP program, also proving their capabilities, though black women were segregated out of WASP by their race and out of the history-making, all-black Tuskegee Airmen by their gender.

Many other women served with the Civil Air Patrol. Started just before the US entered World War II, the Civil Air Patrol formed to utilize the skills of civilian pilots in protecting the United States. CAP pilots patrolled over land and sea, performed rescue missions, and worked as couriers. It was open to both sexes and all races.

But, I wondered, how did the Brooksby girls from little Fredonia on the Arizona Strip (the patch of Arizona above the Grand Canyon, just south of the Utah border) learn to be pilots? They might have seen the occasional barnstormer or cropduster, but I doubted that planes were common in Fredonia.

Like most female pilots of World War II, I found, they trained at college-based Civil Pilot Training Programs. At least some of the Brooksby women attended Dixie Junior College (now Dixie State University) in St George, Utah (Southern Utah is known as Utah’s Dixie for the early attempts to grow cotton there). There, they took the classes to learn to fly through the Civil Pilot Training Program and then went to the Provo Flying School under the direction of Merrill Christopherson to complete their training. Once they had the necessary solo hours, they worked with the Civil Air Patrol ferrying planes across the country.

After the war, WASP women were dismissed as no longer needed by their country. Commercial airlines would not hire female pilots. Some pilots, like Utah transplant Marjorie Redding Christiansen, became air traffic controllers. Others continued to serve with the Civil Air Patrol or other community organizations. Their service was forgotten by many for a number of decades, but today we can remember their bravery and determination to serve their country.

(Below, the Brooksby pilots, minus Victor Brooksby, who was already MIA in the south Pacific.)

1944 Summer; Vivien, Isabelle, Frank, Edith

The Decline and Fall of the Utah Sugar Beet Empire

Where does your sugar come from?

Americans eat more sugar than any other nation, consuming close to 11 million metric tons of the sweet stuff annually (that’s somewhere around 150 pounds of sugar per person per year – 100 years ago, we ate closer to 18 pounds per person per year). The US alone produces over 8 million metric tons of sugar each year, and the largest sugar producer is…

Minnesota, eh?

Not the place many of us might imagine our sugar coming from, and tropical Florida and Louisiana are top contenders in sugar cane production, but more than half of US sugar actually comes from sugar beets (pictured below).

Sugar Beet Before Topping LOC

Utah is no longer even on the map for sugar production, but for much of the twentieth century, Utah was an important sugar beet producer.

Someone recently asked me, where did the sugar beets go?

After all, Idaho – literally within spitting distance of some of the Utah towns that once ran on the sugar beet industry – is still an important producer of sugar. Some parts of Utah, like the “Sugar House” neighborhood in Salt Lake City, still bear record of their association with the sugar industry. And the sugar beet is the official Utah state historic vegetable. Who knew that was a thing?

So, here’s a short-but-sweet 😉 history of sugar in Utah.

First of all, y’all know that sugar has an ugly history, right? European (and later American) sugar cravings drove perhaps the most brutal slavery-based industry from the 1500s to the 1800s, with generations of enslaved West Africans working and dying on sugar plantations, mostly in the Carribean.

By the 1800s, with international wars and slave revolts disrupting the sugar industry, European scientists developed a process for extracting sugar from beets. Abolitionists and human rights advocates were quick to promote beet sugar (while pro-slavery factions shunned it). Beet sugar also had an economic advantage because sugar beets grow in a much wider variety of climates than sugar cane, meaning France, Russia, Germany, and the non-tropical portions of the United States could all develop their own sugar industries instead of relying on imports.

By 1850, Brigham Young had led the Mormon pioneers to the relative isolation of Utah and was interested in being as self-sufficient as possible. Thus, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints backed an experimental sugar beet factory in Sugar House. It failed miserably, producing a nasty syrup not even independent-minded Brigham Young thought edible.

It took a few decades before American factories got the hang of beet sugar, but by the end of the 1800s, with the social and financial backing of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Utah-Idaho Sugar Company had factories throughout Utah, and sugar beets became an important part of Utah’s economy. Sugar beets required back-breaking manual labor, but large Utah families had plenty of children to work in the fields. Their work was supplemented by Native Americans displaced by pioneer settlements and later by Latino refugees fleeing the Mexican Revolution. The worldwide economic disruptions of World War I saw the peak of the sugar industry in Utah when the state was one of the country’s top sugar producers (like the factory in Lewiston, Utah, pictured below – that’s a big pile of beets!).

Sugar beets in Lewiston LOC

From there, it was a slow downhill slide. An agricultural depression followed WWI, with prices falling into a slump after the previous war-time demand, and after that came the Great Depression. At the same time, beet leafhoppers spread a blight in Utah that damaged crops and led some factories to move away from the state.

The Utah sugar beet industry struggled on, eventually finding a blight-resistant strain of beets, and in World War II, Utah was still a major US sugar producer. Many detained Japanese Americans worked in the sugar beet fields of Utah to keep up with wartime production.

Following World War II, the sugar beet industry saw a number of technological changes that made sugar processing faster and more efficient. Ironically, this would lead to the end of large-scale commercial sugar beets in Utah. The main companies that bought Utah sugar beets, U&I (Utah-Idaho Sugar Company) and Amalgamated Sugar Company, had both started in Utah but expanded their production to Idaho and the Pacific Northwest and eventually moved their headquarters out of state. They faced several antitrust actions by the federal government as well as competition with low-cost cane sugar from overseas during the mid-1900s, which strained their resources. Also during this time, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints began selling its interests in the sugar companies.

So, when it came time to update factories, the sugar companies invested in those in Idaho and Oregon. One by one, the outdated Utah factories shut down, with the last one in Garland, Utah, shutting down in 1979. It was not cost-effective for Utah farmers to ship their sugar beets out of state, so most switched to other crops, and Utah fell off the sugar-producing map.

For most of Utah, sugar beets had never been an ideal crop. The soil is too alkaline, the growing season too short, and the labor too intensive. The fact that Utah enjoyed nearly a century of sweet success is a testament to the stubborn self-sufficiency of Utah’s farmers.

Utah’s official contemporary state vegetable is the sweet onion. And that’s a thing, too, because when it came time to vote on state vegetable, the onion may be important now, but the sugar beet-proponents refused to back down on giving some kind of recognition to the crop that had been so important to Utah’s economy for most of the 1900s.

Photos courtesy of the Library of Congress OWI-FSA collection (public domain).

Sources: U.S. Sugar Industry Association; American Sugar Alliance; New Hampshire Department of Health and Human Services; The Diabetes Council; Donald W. Meyers, “Rebirth of former sugar plant is sweet news for Toppenish,” Yakima Herald (Yakima, Washington); Leonard J. Arrington, Beet Sugar in the West;  Twila Van Leer, “Sugar Becomes a Sweet Success,” Deseret News; “Sugar Beets!” Lewiston-North Cache Valley Historical Board; Leonard J. Arrington, “The Sugar Industry in Utah,” Utah History Encyclopedia.