 Frontier Fighters. Frontier Fighters. Men and women who broke new trails in the romantic but dangerous old west. Any tribute which historians of the future will prepare for Idaho must include many chapters dedicated to those men and women who gave so generously of their youth, their hopes, and their dreams. Tribute must be paid to a man who helped tremendously to make Idaho the fertile, prosperous state it is today. Late in the 19th century Charles Walgamut and his wife Letty were living on the north side of Snake River at Cheshon Falls. One night after the two had retired they were awakened by a loud rapping at their cabin door. Charles, wake up, Charles. Well, Letty, what's the trouble? There's someone at the door and it's after 10 o'clock. Yeah, I know. Stay here. I'll soon find out who it is. Now, don't go to the door, dear. It's all right. I won't open it wide. I'm sorry to wake you up this time of the night, sir, but I had to. Yeah? My name is Bert Pern. I've got about 25 head of cows out here that I've been milking in the Wood River country. I need water for them and I wondered if you'd know the place in Snake River Canyon where that many cattle could winter. Well, you'd better get them to water before you think about putting them in for the winter. Why, cows? Well, maybe it sounds silly, but I've been selling milk to the miners. All right. Just take your cattle around the hill there and water them in the creek. And come on back here yourself. We're about to eat. You look pretty tired. Oh, thanks. Well, take me more than 15 minutes. We'll be waiting for you. Charles, honey, you know it's all right to invite him in. Well, I saw the cows, so he's telling the truth about that. Yes, but that doesn't mean... Now, Letty, anybody that sells milk instead of whiskey to the miners can't be a dangerous character. Well, I guess you're right, Charles. I'll get him something to eat. I'll get you a drink first. You know, Letty, the more I think of anyone selling milk to the miners, the more I think of him. He's got a good head on him. Later that night, Bert Perrin with the enthusiasm of youth confided in Charles Walgamut a certain plan. Maybe it's only a dream, Mr. Walgamut, but someday I'm going to make it come true. Dreams sometimes have a pretty good way of coming true, Perrin. If this one would. Well, here. You know that stretch of river that goes carrying its way through the canyon? Yeah. Well, when you look west down the river, you can see on both sides for more than 50 miles. Yeah, all sagebrush, desert country. That's just it. Death at country. You see it now. But if my dream comes true, you won't. You'll see a fertile country that will bring farmers from all over the country to farm. Whoa, there, Perrin. Now, how can you expect to turn 50 miles a desert into a fertile paradise? The age of miracles is past, you know. But there's always water, and water can work miracles in a desert. Water? Yes, sir. Water. Stored up and down. Water to flow down into that desert country and take it back from nature. For the next few years of his life, young Perrin learned everything he could about irrigation. On every side he asked questions. He probed, he sought. He learned in an 1860 a few farmers diverted small streams into patches of desert and made it pay. Night and day he worked, he roamed the countryside planning, dreaming. He was trying to turn his scheme into a vital reality. And on all sides he found interest, interest, but not the necessary capital. The undertaking was gigantic, and he heard many objections. Yeah, I think it's a fine idea, Mr. Perrin. But almost everybody here in Idaho is poor. We got no money for such a thing. Sure, sure, Mr. Perrin. Water is the salvation of this part of the country. Damn, who would do the trick? But the building, you've got to have money. Bert, I don't think your plan will ever get beyond the blueprint stage. You've got the right idea, all right. But money, man. Where can you get enough of it? Undaunted by failure to attract capital to his gigantic dream, Perrin worked his ranch. But he refused to give up his idea. Then, one day he learned that visiting Idaho from Salt Lake City were Sam Milner and Frank Knox. When Perrin learned they were bankers, he lost no time in outlining his scheme to them. Oh, there it is, gentlemen. I live with this idea night and day. Those sagebrush planes just have to belong to the people. Yeah, it sounds pretty fantastic, Perrin. Not fantastic, Mr. Knox. Just a little more than has ever been dreamed of before. No, Perrin, it's impractical from a money standpoint. Just a minute, Knox. Go ahead, Perrin. Look, here's a map. Now, here's the place where the first stand should be. All this territory, more than 50 miles on both sides of the river, is just waiting to be settled. If you have water, you'll have farmers. If you have farmers, you'll have produce. Produce creates markets. Markets mean railroads. Yes, yes, yes, of course. But you'd have to have the entire country, which the dam is to influence surveys. I know that, Mr. Knox. Uh-huh. And your idea was that Mr. Knox and I should furnish the money for the preliminary surveys? That's it. And the next step would be to organize a company and raise the money to build the dam and canals. And the cost of that? Well, about $1.5 million. Well, good day, Mr. Perrin. Well, but please. That you sink a million and a half in a wild scheme like... Well, we're sorry, but it's a daydream. Oh, I see. Well, maybe someday somebody will wake up. Goodbye. Thanks. Well, there, Perrin. That was Mr. Knox speaking. I haven't said a word. Well, Smelner, what do you mean? Smelner, are you crazy? You can't possibly see any good coming out of this scheme? Knox, a lot of people didn't see any good of people fighting their way out to Utah. Well, there aren't any more frontiers in Utah, but there are here in Idaho. Instead of Indians, we're going to fight a desert man. I'm not joking, Mr. Smelner. Young man. A man doesn't joke about opening his checkbook to the tune of enough money to survey that much territory. Eventful months swept on. Suddenly, the entire state was talking damn's canal derogation. But it was just talk. The months became years. And soon, Bert Perrin was no longer a young man. But his dream was still young. Then, even Sam Milner began to wonder. Bert, I wonder if we're not 25 years ahead of our time. Sam, you're not losing faith, are you? Well, there's no longer a matter of faith, Bert. I've always had that. But you know what Middleton said about the money. But he's just the first one. His word isn't gospel. Well, not gospel, Bert. But his word may reflect the word of the money crowd upon whom we've got to depend. Sam, I've dreamed of this for plenty of years. It's got to become a reality. There's got to be towns, farms, houses, railroads where the sagebrush is now. Sam, I can see it. Well, I wish you could see the million and a half. That's got to come, too. Yes, we've got to have faith, I suppose. But I'm getting old, Bert. I don't know. I don't know. Sam, somehow, someway, I'm going to get that money. I'm going to show the people with the money that a dream isn't just made out of tensile and air. I'm going to talk and talk until someone listens. Bert Perron went to Chicago. In a police, he carried $600,000 worth of bonds, which the Perron Milner Company issued, secured by farm contracts. He confronted hard-headed businessmen. His frankness, sincerity, made a deep impression upon those who listened to him. One day, in the offices of Trowbridge and Never... I'll admit that all types of Western irrigation schemes have been fatal up to now, and I think you should know the truth of it. Yes, Mr. Perron, we know that well enough. We've gone into it pretty thoroughly. Your honesty is a tiny little embarrassing. Your frankness engaging. But in spite of all that, Trowbridge and Never would like to handle that bond issue. The entire $600,000? Here's the whole issue. You see, we're not buying just bonds. We're buying the honesty, the sincerity, the genius of Bert Perron. Well, I had a lot of words ready to say. Words of thanks. I've been saving them for years. Now that the opportunity's come to use them, I can't. Never mind that. You've got a job ahead of you now. We know you can fill it because any man who's kept such a magnificent dream all these years has held on to it through thick and thin, through bitter years and discouragement, and fill any job. Mr. Perron, you've got to go out and sell Idaho to the nation. Overjoyed, Perron returned to Idaho. With all the pent-up emotion of years, he and Sam Milner watched. Watch machinery come in, watch preparations for the building of the dam, and finally, one day... Hello, Mr. Perron, Mr. Milner. Hi, Tom. Oh, Tom, I sent for you because I want you to keep three ships going 24 hours a day. We'll need every foot of floor space we can get. You bet, Mr. Perron. And say, want to hear something? What is it? Know what they're going to call the first hotel in Twin Falls? I'm no good at guessing that. Well, it's going to be called the Perron Hotel. And don't go asking me why. Yesterday, Idaho could hardly feed herself. Today, she's confident. Tomorrow, her surplus will help feed the nation. Sam, it's going to be a mighty proud day for all of us when they let the first water out of the dam, when it flows into the canals, when it gives life to that desert. The Idaho dam, but... No, Sam, not the Idaho dam. The committee's already decided on the name. What difference does the name make? A lot, in this case, Sam. I'm going to give it a name it deserves. In honor of the man who saw the desert, not as a barren waste, but as a green paradise. Sam, the Milner Dam will be a great thing. The great day dawned when the Milner Dam was to be dedicated. From far and near, they came for the opening of the Great Dam. Farmers whose lands were to be irrigated. Merchants whose livelihood defended upon the prosperity of the farmers. Men, women, children. The crowd stood waiting as the man was introduced to them. And now, we turn these controls over to Mr. I.B. Perron. The father of irrigation in Idaho. A man by whose faith, vision, and courage this Milner Dam is today made possible. The man we all know and love. Merch, parent. At a time like this, words are futile. I can only say, well, that this is a great day for all of us. For Idaho. The minute this water goes down the spillways and into the canals, 50 miles of parched desert will drink the water to turn them into miles of green, purple land. For you, through the spillways of Milner Dam, I give to America a new and conquered frontier. I.B. Perron, the father of irrigation of Idaho, is indeed a pioneer. He fought no Indians, nor did any of the things we commonly associate with the pioneers of the West. But he did open a new frontier of 50 miles of desert, opened it to prosperity and happiness. Truly, he is a great frontier fighter.