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Imperial Ambition, First Contact and the Fateful Final Voyage of Captain James Cook

by Hampton Sides

On July 12, 1776, Captain James Cook, already lionized as the greatest explorer in British history, set off on his third voyage in his ship the HMS Resolution. Two-and-a-half years later, on a beach on the island of Hawaii, Cook was killed in a conflict with native Hawaiians. How did Cook, who was unique among captains for his respect for Indigenous peoples and cultures, come to that fatal moment?

Hampton Sides’ bravura account of Cook’s last journey both wrestles with Cook’s legacy and provides a thrilling narrative of the titanic efforts and continual danger that characterized exploration in the 1700s. Cook was renowned for his peerless seamanship, his humane leadership, and his dedication to science–the famed naturalist Joseph Banks accompanied him on his first voyage, and Cook has been called one of the most important figures of the Age of Enlightenment. He was also deeply interested in the native people he encountered. In fact, his stated mission was to return a Tahitian man, Mai, who had become the toast of London, to his home islands. On previous expeditions, Cook mapped huge swaths of the Pacific, including the east coast of Australia, and initiated first European contact with numerous peoples. He treated his crew well, and endeavored to learn about the societies he encountered with curiosity and without judgment.

Yet something was different on this last voyage. Cook became mercurial, resorting to the lash to enforce discipline, and led his two vessels into danger time and again. Uncharacteristically, he ordered violent retaliation for perceived theft on the part of native peoples. This may have had something to do with his secret orders, which were to chart and claim lands before Britain’s imperial rivals could, and to discover the fabled Northwest Passage. Whatever Cook’s intentions, his scientific efforts were the sharp edge of the colonial sword, and the ultimate effects of first contact were catastrophic for Indigenous people around the world. The tensions between Cook’s overt and covert missions came to a head on the shores of Hawaii. His first landing there was harmonious, but when Cook returned after mapping the coast of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, his exploitative treatment of the Hawaiians led to the fatal encounter.

At once a ferociously-paced story of adventure on the high seas and a searching examination of the complexities and consequences of the Age of Exploration, THE WIDE WIDE SEA is a major work from one of our finest narrative nonfiction writers.

Find it in our Collection here.

by Dolly Alderton

Jen has dumped Andy, and he’s handling the breakup in exactly the way all his friends and family might have expected: very, very badly. Crashing at his mother’s house and obsessively photographing his hairline, Andy embraces the rites and rituals of every breakup:

…the ill-advised decision to move onto a houseboat, the forced merriment of a lads’ night out, the accidental late-night text to the ex…

…all resulting in a never-ending shame spiral. Even as Andy tests the waters of a new relationship, he finds himself drawn back to Jen, revisiting old texts and emails, trying to figure out what truly went wrong.

Find it in our Collection here.

One of the great highlights of the archives of the Center for Regional History is its vast collection of newspapers, dating as far back as 1881. These newspapers, of which the Wood River Valley has had many over the years, give an incredible glimpse into life in the valley throughout its settled history.

However, in a January 31, 1883, issue of the Wood River Times Weekly, amongst articles describing happenings around town, local politics, and news from the wider world, one particularly grisly headline stands out in a large bold font: THE BELLEVUE HORROR.

This article describes an event that occurred in the early morning hours of January 27. Shortly after one, Bellevue residents were startled to hear two pistol shots ring out, followed shortly by cries of fire in the streets. As locals were roused from their beds and rushed into the streets, it was soon found that the home of Mrs. Ella Newton was engulfed in flames. The crowd attempted to locate and rescue Mrs. Newton, but to no avail. Only after the building had been entirely consumed by the flames were her charred remains pulled from the wreckage.

Speculation began immediately as to the mysterious cause of Mrs. Newton’s untimely death. Some claimed murder, as two revolvers were found near Mrs. Newton’s remains, one of which contained two spent shells. It was suspected that the fire had been started to cover up a foul crime.

Others suspected Mrs. Newton herself started the fire and then ended her own life. Her husband, Mr. Lewis Newton, was out of town on business, but the couple were struggling greatly financially. Mrs. Newton had already pawned off some of her jewelry to afford provisions, and many considered her to be a prideful woman who would sooner end her life than to make public her destitute circumstances.

A final theory was that the fire was an accident. Mrs. Newton was also in poor health, and reportedly partook of opium to ease her pains. Some signs pointed to the source of the fire being a coal-oil lamp, which Mrs. Newton may have been unable to escape while under the influence of opium.

None of the grim possibilities could be determined to be the truth, and thus what truly happened on that late night in Bellevue remains a mystery.

To access our extensive newspaper collection, reach out to The Center for Regional History.

Step into the rhythmic heartbeat of tradition with a recent addition to our collection—a handcrafted drum by Pete Yellowjohn, a revered Traditional Elder, Bundle Keeper, and Medicine Man of the Shoshone Bannock Tribe. Crafted with meticulous care and adorned with symbols of ancestral reverence, this drum stands as a testament to the enduring legacy of Indigenous craftsmanship.

Fashioned from stretched buffalo hide, the drum’s surface is adorned with masterfully hand-painted images of the local fauna—a mountain lion and bear—entwined amidst vibrant depictions of native flora. Each stroke of Yellowjohn’s brush tells a story of kinship with the land and its inhabitants, echoing the spiritual connection deeply rooted in Shoshone Bannock culture. Complementing the beautiful paintings on the buffalo hide, the drumstick is a work of art in itself—a slender willow branch wrapped in supple deer hide, embellished with brass tacks.

But more than an object of beauty, this handcrafted drum and its accompanying stick serve as custodians of tradition, embodying sacred knowledge that is passed down through generations. In the hands of Yellowjohn and his predecessors, the art of drum-making transcends mere craftsmanship—it becomes a sacred act of remembrance, a vessel for preserving cultural heritage in a rapidly changing world.

As you view this masterpiece of Indigenous artistry, imagine its rhythmic pulse transporting you across time and space, inviting you to listen not just with your ears, but with your heart—to the echoes of the past, the whispers of the ancestors, and the timeless melody of tradition.

From the Pete Yellowjohn Collection (2023.15.01), Wood River Museum of History and Culture.

Early Sun Valley featured a wide array of animal residents including ducks, geese, many breeds of dog and perhaps most unusually, a tame family of antelope. Most well-known of these antelope was one named Annie, featured in this picture from the Community Library’s collection posing with Lucille Ball.

Annie and her three children were known for taking swims in the resort’s lake, elegantly leaping across the golf course, and following guests around as they enjoyed their stay at Sun Valley. So liked were the antelope by guests and staff alike that when landscape gardener Charlie Davidson complained that they were eating all the pansies, resort founder Averell Harriman reportedly responded that he should simply “Plant more pansies.”

Perhaps the most dramatic story surrounding the antelope is recounted by famed ski film director Warren Miller. In March of 1951, as Miller was just starting his storied film career, he was in Sun Valley to show his first film in the Sun Valley Opera House. While preparing food in the back of his truck, he recalls Annie rounding the corner, jumping into him, and subsequently cutting her shoulder badly on the bumper of his truck. For what it’s worth, Sun Valley publicist Dorice Taylor instead recalled a different antelope named Andy being hit by a car while crossing Sun Valley’s driveway.

With Annie (or Andy) now bleeding profusely, Warren Miller and his associates decided the best course of action was to bring the antelope to the Sun Valley Lodge’s third floor hospital. Dr. Moritz furiously objected to the presence of the bleeding, disheveled antelope in his surgery, but the nurse on duty gave Miller the materials and instructions to sew up the wounded antelope outside. After successfully sewing up the shoulder wound in the headlights of his truck and the freezing cold, Miller recounts the antelope struggling to its feet and staggering off into the dark.

In this photograph of Annie and Lucille Ball, the antelope’s gentle temperament towards the guests shines through, though Ball confessed afterwards that she was terrified of animals. Sun Valley’s eccentric animal residents definitely contributed a great deal to the atmosphere of the resort in its star-studded early days.

From the Dorice Taylor Collection, F 06252, Jeanne Rodger Lane Center for Regional History

The summer of 1884 was an exciting time to be living in the Wood River Valley. The mines were booming, the railroad had arrived in Hailey, and just a couple years earlier, Hailey had been declared the county seat of Alturas County in a hotly contested special election with Bellevue. Befitting its new status, the county had commissioned a new courthouse to be built in Hailey in 1882. At the cost of $40,000, funded through bonds, the new courthouse was the most expensive building in the Idaho Territory at the time. The courthouse was due to be completed in the summer of 1884, and the local post of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), a fraternal organization of Union Civil War veterans, was throwing a ball at the courthouse to celebrate its opening.

The event would also serve as a fundraiser for the fledgling Hailey GAR post, named E. D. Baker after US Senator Edward Dickinson Baker from Oregon. Baker, a staunch unionist and a close friend of Abraham Lincoln, was killed in an early battle of the Civil War and remains the only sitting US senator to ever die in a military engagement.

This small newspaper ad, now held in the archive of the Jeanne Rodger Lane Center for Regional History, was distributed to advertise this grand occasion to the valley’s residents. Though delayed a week due to construction delays, the inaugural ball took place on July 1^st, 1884, and was a great success. Making the front-page of the Wood River Times Weekly the following day, it was written, “All of 60 couples were in attendance, including 10 couples from Bellevue, and dancing was continued until after 4 o’clock this morning – something quite unusual. Nor was any time lost between dances. Ten and nine quadrille sets were on the floor at one time, and very few failed to return after supper.” The paper also notes that even more would have been in attendance if not for the conditions of the roads preventing a group from Ketchum from attending. The Times reports that the ball surely brought in more than $100 for the GAR.

This newspaper ad and the event it advertised serve as a great window into the vibrancy and excitement in the valley at the peak of its mining boom. Similarly, the same courthouse from 1884 still stands in Hailey today and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, an incredible glimpse into the history of the Wood River Valley.

More here from the Center for Regional History.