Imagine this, if you can. You’ve had a good life, operated a prosperous business, travelled the world, and now you want to give something back to the community. Because you care for nature, you decide to buy some land to protect it from development. Knowing you won’t live forever, you also decide to give the land to the state to create a park so that everyone could enjoy what you have protected. What does the state say in response to your generous gift?
No thanks.
Virgil Talmadge McCroskey didn’t have to imagine it. He lived it. Born on a farm in the wheat fields of Eastern Washington State, Virgil McCroskey earned a degree in pharmacy and bought the Elk Drug Store in Colfax, Washington. In 1920 he sold the business and retired to travel the world, and especially to visit national parks all over the Western United States. Once he had satisfied his wanderlust, Virgil settled back onto the family farm at the foot of Steptoe Butte, a quartzite cone thrusting upward from the rolling hills toward the sky. Steptoe Butte is a remarkable landmark, and provides a visitor to the top a breathtaking view of the vast Camas Prairie.
Perhaps it was the hotel that Cashup Davis had built in 1888 at the summit of Steptoe Butte that offended Virgil’s eye. In any case, by the time Virgil bought the land, the hotel had burned down and Virgil was able to make sure that it was never replaced. Nearing his 70th birthday, Virgil offered Steptoe Butte and 146 acres of land to the state of Washington who graciously accepted. Steptoe Butte State Park was dedicated on July 4, 1946, becoming Washington’s 72nd state park.
Although he could have rested on his laurels, Virgil wasn’t done. Turning his still energetic eye toward the east, Virgil decided that he needed to save Skyline Ridge, just over the border in Idaho. The heavily timbered sides of Mission and Huckleberry Mountains were being threatened by logging, and in those days mandatory replanting was not a strict requirement. Virgil began work anew.
Buying up chunks of land as he could, by 1951 Virgil had put together about 2,000 acres of ridgeline, and he wrote to the Idaho State Legislature, offering the land as a state park. The Idaho legislators weighed Virgil’s gift (and the costs associated with maintaining a park) in one hand, and the tax money the property would generate in the other. It turns out the tax hand weighed more than the park hand, and the state turned Virgil down flat. Never one to say never, Virgil continued buying up parcel after parcel, accumulating yet another 2,400 acres to add to his holdings. Virgil now held property on either side of the 18 mile long Ridgeline Road, offering stunning views to both east and west.
In 1955 Virgil tried again. This time, the state was interested. The legislature considered, and decided to accept the most generous man’s offer. With one proviso. The State of Idaho would create the Mary Minerva McCroskey State Park if the 79 year old Virgil would agree to maintain the park at his own expense for the next 15 years!
Lucky for Idaho that Virgil McCroskey believed in what he was doing and what he was offering. He accepted their somewhat parsimonious offer and went to work improving the park. For the next 15 years Virgil added camping spots and picnic areas, did road improvement, working steadily on the park until just before his death at age 93. Virgil Talmadge McCroskey had created a 4,200 acre park named for his beloved mother and in honor of all pioneer women.
Today, the park is pretty much neglected and certainly underutilized by the public. Few people visiting the top of nearby Steptoe Butte know that when they’re looking east at the lovely ridgeline covered in trees that they’re seeing a state park in Idaho that’s easily accessible in the summertime, offering unsurpassed views of both states and cool respite from the hot prairie winds.
If you find yourself in this part of the world, by all means drive to the top of Steptoe Butte, but take a little extra time and tour Virgil’s Ridgeline Road in the Mary Minerva McCroskey State Park. You won’t regret it.
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