Tributes: Harden Young left mark in many lives
The phone rudely jangles me awake. It’s barely 6 a.m. A rusty voice asks, “Connie!? D’you want some raspberries?” It’s Harden. I arrive about 8, with buckets and children in tow. “What took you so long? Day’s half over!” We pick and visit in the morning light – a sweet feast of friendship. That was 25 years ago.
“Harden stories” flow from the memories of countless community leaders, hundreds of former Boy Scouts, and thousands of friends. When you live to be 98, you have time to make a mark in the lives of a lot of people. Not that Harden Young ever set out to do that. He just took each day as it came and filled it to the brim, undaunted by the passing of years.
He was not the type to plan on leaving a legacy in North Idaho that would enrich the lives of all its citizens for decades to come. But that is what he did, in the end. Harden will always be known for his “get ‘er done” attitude, his forward-looking outlook and unflappable demeanor. His name is synonymous with industry, leadership, generosity, thrift and survival. His wife, Hannah, and their four children worked right alongside. It seems that about half the population of Dalton Gardens called him “Uncle” or “Grandpa.”
Harden was a builder and tended to leave things better than he found them. At one time he owned about half of Canfield Mountain, and at its western base there are half a dozen fine homes he built with the help of his cronies and family. He built his last home at the age of 85, clambering around on the roof beams like a person 50 years younger.
Harden came here in 1942 to run the Woolworth’s store down on Sherman. He retired in 1971 and the following year the store burned down. The city made a little park out of the empty space, Sherman Square. As a member of the chamber of commerce, he led or helped out in endeavors from which we still enjoy the benefits, such as the annual sidewalk sales and the Coeur d’Alene golf course.
Born the grand-nephew of Brigham Young, Harden was a stalwart member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints all his days. In 1942 there were fewer than three dozen members in all of North Idaho. Gradually a small branch, then a ward, was formed, where Harden served as branch president, then bishop. They needed a place to meet, so he, Oscar Paisley and Orrin Lee put a bid on a “lot” of 52 buildings up at the decommissioned Farragut. The bank, knowing the three, told them they’d have whatever they needed. They won the bid by $8.35. They salvaged the buildings, saving every scrap, every wire, every nail. They built a small chapel at 14th and Garden, which today houses the Lake City Playhouse. They sold off the excess building materials and had the bank loan paid within a month. As other church and community buildings have gone up, he’s been there to contribute in any way he could. At 90, he was still volunteering with the Habitat for Humanity fundraisers.
He and several friends dismantled 122 buildings where Riverfront Park is in Spokane, in preparation for the 1974 world’s fair, again salvaging, selling off materials and cleaning up.
Scores of young men have happily followed his lead into the wilderness on “50-milers” with the Boy Scouts. They might not have had such confidence if they knew how many times he got lost on hunting trips. On one of those scouting trips into the Selway-Bitteroot, when Harden was about 80, the hikers stopped to bask in the warm springs on the way out. Harden’s foot was just black with a horrific bruise. When asked about it, he responded that a horse had stepped on his foot the first day out, nothing serious. A week had passed and not a word of complaint. He was not one to grumble, and he never held a grudge. Being fluent in “Horse,” he did cuss the horses some.
He was always happy to help with a boy’s Eagle project and Scout fundraisers.
A visit to the North Idaho Fair is never complete without savoring a warm, sugary, Elephant Ear. Leo Lee, Ken Durtschi and Harden started out with a tiny shack, and over the last three decades it has expanded to fill the growing demand for the fragrant scones, undoubtedly the most popular treat at the fair. One seemed never to walk by without seeing Harden handing them out the window, along with a cheerful greeting.
One summer, maybe 10 years ago, he and his son were pulling down an old barn. Harden had bent over when a wall fell on him, flattening him with his head between his knees. His pelvis was broken, so for a time you’d see him in a wheelchair. Soon it was a walker, then two canes. By fair time the canes simply rode along on his forearms and he was handing out elephant ears again. The comment was made that such an accident would have killed an ordinary man.
But Harden wasn’t ordinary, not by a long shot.