Police reform has become a hot button topic over the last decade or so. Just because one puts on a badge or uniform every morning does not give a person the right to injury, maim, or even kill every person who crosses their path. Even though this has become the issue that it is in the 21st century, police officers doing what they please has its origins in the rough and tumble Wild West. The American west of cowboys, Indians, and shoot em ups are the images that come to mind, but into a good portion of the 20th century, people headed west to lose themselves. In western towns where the news from New York and Washington barely registered a blip on the radar, people did as the pleased, and a badge signified power. In one of the early books of now esteemed author Timothy Egan, he tackles a case from the 1930s where having a badge meant taking the law into your own hands. No one can craft a true story of life in the contemporary west better than Egan, so I knew that even if this was an early work of his, I would be in for a doozy of a tale.
Spokane, Washington in the eastern portion of the state is home to some of the most pristine land left in the contiguous forty eight states. Egan, as he is apt to do, sets the stage for this story by taking the time to describe the environment. His family has lived in Washington for at least five generations and he is proud of his origins. Tony Bamonte is only a second generation westerner but truly in touch with the land. His father Bull Bamonte fled the impoverished streets of the Bronx and landed in Pend d’Oreille County, Washington. The land had been forecefully taken from the native Americans, and Egan describes the encounters between the Nez Percé and Colonel George Wright, a dark mark on history. Pend Oreille became the last pocket of land to be incorporated as a county in Washington and since the times of the Great Depression has only had nine police sheriffs. Earlier each principality governed itself, usually with a police force that did not require applicants to have much more than a high school education. These were men raised on the land, as Tony Bamonte would be half a century later, who might have been bullies, and created the law as they pleased. A dispute at home, vagrancy, and even petty theft and misdemeanors would not register on the police docket if the defendant was a friend of the officer. Police graft came to a head during the Great Depression, where life in Spokane epitomized a western city during the dark days of American history.
My favorite positive account of the Depression has always been Fried Green Tomatoes. What it has to do with a true crime book is that in a small southern town, the inhabitants had no concept of what was unfolding in society as a whole. There was always food in the cafe and children continued the same way of life as they had been doing for decades. One could say the same of Spokane to an extent. Speakeasies and brothels ran freely with cutbacks to the police, and officers gathered at Mother’s Cafe after work. At mothers, the waitresses flirted and somehow there was always food. One would have no idea that there was no money anywhere to be found inside the cafe’s walls or in Spokane as a whole until the passage of the Conservation Construction Corps. The job creation program brought hundreds of thousands of unemployed people to Spokane looking for work on the newly proposed Grand Coulee Dam. The hobos slept in tents near the train depot and created their own version of Hooverville. Cops had no concept of poverty because they still received cutbacks from speakeasy operations even after the repeal of Prohibition and received all the free food they desired inside of Mother’s. It was at this locale that Clyde Ralstin was king. He and owner Virgil Burch schemed up ways to get rich quick and hid the evidence. The law- Ralstin was the law. On September 14, 1935 the two men along with ex-con Acie Logan robbed the Newport Creamery in another one of their schemes. Unfortunately for the two men, town marshal George Conniff heard the commotion and meant to stop it. Ralstin silenced him, taking the law into his own hands once again. Spokane police covered for him and the murder went unsolved until Bamote discovered the report fifty years later.
Tony Bamonte is a living example that one’s origins do not determine one’s station in life. His mother left the family after committing continuous adulterous acts. His father Bull was not an ideal parent but he provided for his children and made sure they had a roof over their heads. Tony would rather work the land than go to school and his lack of education showed. Eventually, he served in Vietnam before the war started and then eight years on the Spokane police force. He was never one of them because his idea of a cop was to uphold justice and in the 1960s, the force was still one of graft. Disillusioned, he eventually left the force and returned to his native Metaline Falls, where he married and eventually got elected sheriff of Pend d’Oreille County three times. Even as sheriff, other officials and police viewed Bamonte as an outsider. He would not abuse his position just because the people of his county elected him. It was at this time that Bamonte enrolled in a graduate history program at Gonzaga University, attempting to make up for his lack of education from his youth. For his graduate thesis, he decided to write about the history of police sheriffs in Pend d’Oreille County. His research would amass five hundred pages as Bamonte became a historian; he unearthed an unsolved case from 1935 and decided that it would be the centerpiece of his research. He would use his position for good rather than graft and set about to solve the Newport Creamery murder, running into countless obstacles along the way. Bamonte, both the student and sheriff, believed in justice, for the Conniff family and the people of Pend d’Oreille. His research came at the expense of his family and job but he set out to change history for the good.
As a western reporter for the New York Times, Timothy Egan discovered the story of Tony Bamonte. A budding writer, he thought it would make a good book. Breaking Blue is only Egan’s second book. While he transitioned from journalist to full time historian, one can see the influences in his early writing. His first few books are not as polished because he is used to turning in shorter pieces for the newspaper. One can sense this because in both Breaking Blue and his first book the Good Rain, Egan writes shorter chapters that are more vignette style than an actual book that flows from start to finish. This book is an important micro historical incident in American history that speaks of police graft. Egan set the stage for his later career as he uncovered more gems about the American west that would become full length books. I have read most of his earlier work now, and all of it tell of his love for the west. Even when he wrote for the Times, he still based himself in Seattle; he is a westerner through and through. While not as polished as his award winning later work, Egan still crafts a compelling story that held my attention. It would be a stepping stone to later tales of both the west and the Great Depression that would win him awards, and, hopefully he will unearth more unsung heroes like Tony Bamonte. America needs more people like him.
3.5 stars rounded up