Homestead heroine saves oncoming train from plunge into Lake Pend Oreille

(I became acquainted with Robert Kellogg when I was asked to critique a book he was writing called, "50 True Tales of Northern Idaho." Robert has had a colorful career in Sandpoint: Ad sales and announcing for Norm Bauer at KSPT radio, writing for the Sandpoint News Bulletin, manager of the Panida Theater for Floyd Gray, just to name a few. He began researching old newspapers when he was with Lauren Pietsch at the News Bulletin, and today's story comes from that research. It reflects a time gone by but many of you will remember the SI (Spokane International Railway Company). Here is Robert's story — in his own words.)

Thursday, June 20, 1912, a violent windstorm blasted into North Idaho from the southwest. The wind began in the early afternoon and quickly built up to hurricane strength.

No rain came with the wind, but the gray sky turned brown with dust from the Palouse country and the Columbia Basin. Stacks of lumber in the mill yards exploded with a clattering roar, and the pieces spun in midair like straws in a summer whirlwind. Log rafts broke loose from their booms, and the shores around Hope were strewn with a tangled mass of saw logs.

The steamer Northern and those smaller craft that had made the move early enough had beat up-wind toward Warren Island and were anchored close-in on the leeward side like a litter of piglets around a mother sow.

Near the small community of Snyder, midway between Moyie Springs and the Canadian border, Mrs. Viola Jacobson was busily rushing around her homestead ranch getting the chickens and livestock under cover when she noticed that three big trees had blown down across the tracks of the Spokane International Railway. She knew that the "Soo Limited" was due any moment and realized the train would be unable to avoid ramming into the obstructions unless someone went up the tracks to warn it.

The promontory known locally as "Rock Point," some distance up the track in the direction of the train's approach, would block the engineer's view of the track ahead until the train had rounded the bend. Mrs. Jacobson thought that she could alert the train if she could manage to get to the bend at Rock Point before it did.

Holding onto her bonnet, she hurried up the tracks, skirting the downed trees by climbing up the rocky embankment and back down again. Before reaching her destination, she watched in horror as two more trees came down across the tracks ahead of her. One huge bull pine crashed right near the point. And now she imagined she could hear the roar of the approaching train in the distance as it came down the Moyie River canyon. If the train were to hit the tree it almost surely would plunge into the river below.

In desperation and near-panic, she scrambled over and through the remaining downed trees. She got around the bend and stood in the middle of the tracks. Sure enough, there in the distance came the "Soo Limited," hurtling down the right of way.

Mrs. Jacobson stood resolutely in place, grabbed her hat and waved her arms frantically. The engineer saw her and blew the whistle several times in short, sharp blasts, but she refused to retreat. Instead she started jumping up and down and wagged her hat more wildly. The engineer hit the brakes.

The train came to a stop with the cow catcher only a few yards from Mrs. Jacobson, whose legs finally gave way and she sat in the middle of the tracks weeping with relief. The big mogul engine emitted snorts of steam like an angry bull anxious to charge ahead again. The hot machinery ticked and snapped while cooling.

Not many days later Mrs. Jacobson received a letter from the Spokane International Railway Company, signed by President D. C. Corbin and Superintendent E. J. Roberts, expressing the railroad's appreciation. Enclosed was a substantial reward check. In addition, the Jacobson ranch was designated as a "flag station." During the balance of that summer and fall, the train crew dumped off a block of ice there each day, ice being a luxury in those pre-refrigerator times.