This year, as we commemorate America’s 250^th anniversary, we’re looking at the ways Parkites have come together to support each other during difficult times.

One such incident happened during the summer of 1928, when a devastating accident prompted our town’s residents to rally together to support a grieving family.

Eric Joffs, a Swedish-speaking immigrant from Finland, made his way to America by 1910, when he was about 18 years old. He found work in Park City and lived here until he was drafted for World War I in 1917 and sent to Camp Lewis near Tacoma, Washington.

While stationed there, he married Emma Hendrickson, a young woman from Park City who had been visiting friends in Astoria, Oregon.

This came as a surprise to Emma’s friends here, but the happy couple enjoyed their time together before Eric had to go overseas.

After the war, the Joffs came back to Park City, where Eric worked in the mines and Emma worked at the Central Drug Store. They soon started a family at their home on Daly Avenue in Empire Canyon.

On July 17, 1928, what should have been a care-free summer afternoon turned into one of the darkest days imaginable for Eric and Emma Joffs.

Their two children, Eric Leonard (9) and Eleanor Johanna (8) decided to accompany their friend Murriel Peterson over the hill to Deer Valley, where there was a little pond.

While the girls removed their shoes and stockings to cool their feet in the water, Eric found a raft near the bank, which he climbed aboard and soon drifted out into the pond.

He then boasted to the girls that he was going to jump off because he knew how to swim. The girls begged him not to because they knew he could not swim, but he jumped anyway.

Once in the water, Eric panicked and started flailing. He called for help from his sister, who jumped in to try to save him. Murriel, desperate to help, found a board and threw it into the water, shouting for them to grab hold, but the pair, clinging to each other, went under and resurfaced several times before finally sinking to the bottom.

Murriel went to the road but found no one to help until three boys arrived for a swim. She pointed to the spot where the siblings had disappeared and yelled at the boys to get them out.

The boys were soon able to secure the bodies and brought them to the shore. They attempted resuscitation methods, but it was too late.

Murriel then ran to the Joffs home and informed them of the tragic accident.

Meanwhile, the boys carried the bodies half a mile to the nearest house, where resident Mr. Wilson loaded the children’s bodies into his automobile and took them to the Archer Mortuary. They summoned Dr. Goodwin, who could only declare that the children had been dead for over an hour.

In the days that followed the tragedy, the local community came together to support the grieving family. The funeral was one of the largest Park City had ever seen, and the Community Church building could not fit but half the people in attendance.

The Ontario workings shut down for the funeral so that Eric’s fellow workmen could attend. The cortege that followed was so large that automobiles formed a double column on their way to the City Cemetery.

The Joffs, overcome with gratitude for the support they received, published a “Card of Thanks” in The Park Record “for the many acts of kindness, sympathy and beautiful floral offerings tendered during our great sorrow.”

If you would like to learn more about the various ways that Parkites have supported each other during times of celebration, grief and strife, please make sure to visit our newest exhibit “Park City Loves a Parade!” in the Tozer Gallery at the Park City Museum, on display until March 2027.

Courtney Titus is the Park City Museum curator of collections & exhibits.

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Farmington’s Lagoon Amusement Park is one of the ten oldest amusement parks in the country. The earliest version of Lagoon was founded in 1886 on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Then known as Lake Park Bathing Resort, it operated until 1895, when the receding waters of the lake forced the resort to close and move locations. Owner Simon Bamberger decided to relocate to Farmington, where he created a man-made lake and water park called Lagoon, which opened the following year.

In the decades that followed, the resort added many more amusements, such as thrill rides, horse races and a filtered swimming pool. Lagoon’s wooden “Roller Coaster,” designed by John Miller (who also designed Coney Island’s Thunderbolt and dozens of other coasters), was constructed in 1921. It is one of the oldest operating wooden coasters in the world, and one of the few attractions that remains from the park’s early days. Another is the Carousel, manufactured in 1893 and installed in 1906, which features over 40 ornate hand-carved animals.

In 1953, fire destroyed a large section of the park, including half the Roller Coaster. Park manager Robert E. Freed was determined to rebuild as quickly as possible, using the disaster as an opportunity to expand and improve the resort. Lagoon reopened the following summer with several new rides and Patio Gardens, which was to become a popular music venue. In the 1960s alone, Lagoon hosted such musical acts as the Beach Boys, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones.

The Freed family still owns the park today, making it the largest family-owned amusement park in the country. They remain successful and draw crowds every summer by adding new attractions each year, while continuing to respect the park’s history. In 2015, they premiered the Cannibal, the steepest roller coaster in the country, after years of planning and construction.

Park City residents have taken advantage of Lagoon’s proximity from the earliest years, often organizing excursions to enjoy the park’s many amusements in the summer months. In 1916, the eighth annual convention of the Utah State Firemen’s Association featured a day-long celebration at Lagoon, where firemen participated in a tournament with competitions in hose coupling, hose cart races and ladder climbing. The Park City Volunteer Fire Department attended the three-day convention, including the competition at Lagoon. Park City had high hopes of winning the tournament, and gathered a group of sixteen skilled firemen to compete. Alas, they were unsuccessful that year, not winning a single prize. Eureka won top honors for the third year in a row.

Please join the Park City Museum for Lynn Arave’s lecture, “Showcasing the Legacy of Lagoon,” on Thursday, May 16 from 5 to 6 p.m. at the Park City Museum Education and Collections Center located at 2079 Sidewinder Drive. This lecture coincides with the Museum’s current traveling exhibit, Coney Island: Visions of an American Dreamland, 1861-2008.

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Park City loves to play. The city was reborn after the collapse of the mining industry thanks to recreation. Locals and tourists alike have a veritable outdoor playground at their fingertips.

Even before Park City was a world class recreation destination, though, Parkites still found ways to have fun. Indoor games were a popular way to stay entertained during the long winters. Board games such as checkers, backgammon and Parcheesi helped pass the time, while games like Puzzle Peg and spelling boards challenged young minds.

The Park City Museum has several examples of indoor games in its collection. One such example is “Pitch ‘Em – The Game of Indoor Horseshoes,” which would have provided hours of family entertainment during a snowstorm, or any time it was inconvenient to be outside. An advertisement in the December 1927 issue of Boy’s Life magazine describes the game as “the great American game of pitching horseshoes; lots of fun and harmless exercise that develops your skill and trains your eye.” It was available for purchase from the Wolverine Supply & Manufacturing Co. for $1.00.

The Wolverine Company was founded in 1903 and by 1920 had become a major toy manufacturer in the United States. Some of the first toys produced by the company were made of mechanical tin or pressed steel, most famously, the Sandy Andy line of sand-operated toys. The Pitch ‘Em game was manufactured for many years during the first half of the twentieth century. It was a lightweight version of horseshoes, designed to be played indoors or outdoors by girls, boys and adults. The game came with four rubber horseshoes (two red and two green) reinforced with steel wire and two green enameled metal plates with nickel-plated pegs. The rules of Pitch ‘Em were similar to those of horseshoes, only modified for indoor play. The company also produced “Gym Horseshoes” which were larger, heavier and designed to be used in a gym or outdoors.

The Pitch ‘Em game in the Park City Museum’s collection came from the Martin family, who lived on Rossie Hill. Edith and Lawrence Martin had two daughters, Florence and Mary, aged ten years apart. The game was probably purchased in the 1920s or 1930s to keep the sisters and their friends entertained. The one in our collection has dozens of scuff marks on the green metal bases, attesting that this was a much loved and often used game. Our example came with the original box with instructions on the inside lid, and is in generally good condition except for some signs of wear.

Time is running out to learn more about children’s play and playgrounds! Stop by the Park City Museum to see Once Upon a Playground, an exhibit that takes visitors on a nostalgic trip through the playgrounds of the past, until Oct. 16.

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For many of us, it’s impossible to remember our childhoods without recalling time spent at a playground, climbing the jungle gym, jumping off swings, or spinning on the merry-go-round. However, in America at the turn of the twentieth century, providing dedicated outdoor areas with equipment on which children could play was a fairly new concept. While today Park City has at least nine public playgrounds, before 1929, we didn’t even have one!

Inspired by German philosophy that emphasized the health benefits of outdoor exercise, the playground movement in the United States began with the sand gardens of Boston in the 1880s. The movement was primarily a response to negative impacts of the industrial revolution, specifically crowded urban life and long hours spent in factories. At first, playgrounds were seen as necessary only in urban areas, which lacked the space and nature abundant in smaller towns and the countryside. In the following years, many involved in the movement saw additional social, moral, physical and educational benefits to children, and deemed playgrounds essential for all cities and towns.

In Park City, the playground movement was mentioned as early as 1910 in a Park Record newspaper article that called for greater civic improvement to make an “ideal town,” including clean streets, good schools and playgrounds. However, it wasn’t until 1925 that a concentrated effort was made to raise funds for Park City’s first playground. A dedicated group of citizens, including members of the Parent Teacher Association, the Woman’s Athenaeum and the American Legion, spent years raising funds and encouraging the town to support the building of a playground so that children “will be benefited and made happy.”

While many citizens contributed to the cause, the issue of securing a location delayed progress for several years. Finally, in 1928 officials from the Park City Utah Consolidated Mining Company donated a stretch of land that ran from China Bridge north past the rear of the Elks Hall at 550 Main St. Before the playground could be installed, the Marsac machine shop, sheds and garages had to be removed, the ground beneath leveled, and Silver Creek covered.

Once work was finished, the land was ready for equipment. The Kiwanis donated the first batch, a Giant Slide and a Giant Stride installed during the summer of 1929. Soon after, a local company donated a wire fence to circle the perimeter, and the Park City Fire Department installed two water fountains on the grounds. Steadily more equipment was added, and by summer’s end, “the kids at the playground [were] trying hard to wear out their pants and pantaloons on the teeter-boards and chutes.”

Today we may take playgrounds for granted, but just remember, a century ago Park City didn’t have one! To view a visual chronology of playground equipment through the decades, and to learn more about the playground movement, stop by the Park City Museum to see Once Upon a Playground, an exhibit that takes visitors on a nostalgic trip through playgrounds of our past. Open now until Oct. 16.

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While mining put Park City on the map, it took plenty of work over the years to make this town a thriving community, complete with all modern trappings.

Park City was a “modern city,” declared a billboard on Lincoln Highway in 1915. With cement sidewalks already in place, unsightly telephone poles removed, and new street lights installed, Park City was certainly well on its way. Only one thing remained: to pave the entire width of Main Street with cement.

Main Street, a designated state highway, was often dusty or muddy depending on the weather. Cement paving had gained popularity throughout the country, and by the summer of 1915, it was agreed that Park City’s main thoroughfare should be paved. The city, county and state all pitched in to finance the project, with the cost estimated at $16,000. Work was to begin at the bottom of Main Street and continue “as far as means and weather permit.”

Delays plagued the project, but work finally commenced on Friday, August 13, 1915. A series of unfortunate events accompanied the unlucky start date. The plows failed to function properly; the work overseer was taken sick; pay per day was announced as $2.00, which workers protested mightily. Also of concern was the late start date, pitting workers against the clock to beat the winter weather, and a funding shortage of $3,000, which meant the project could run out of money before the street was completed.

Despite these issues, work progressed. For the next month, Main Street saw a flurry of activity. A crusher at the Daly West dump prepared quartz, while a cement mixer came up from Davis County.

Before cement could be poured, the street required grading. The steam shovel led the way with dump carts hauling away 6,000 square feet of dirt. A steam roller and grader followed, leveling the street’s surface. The Water Master and his men repaired pipes. The State Engineer assisted with technical details. Throughout it all, crowds gathered to watch.

By early September, everyone was anxious for the work to finish. Officials agreed to shift the project into high gear. The concrete men began working ten-hour days, instead of eight. A night shift was considered, as was bringing in another cement mixer. The goal was to lay 100 to 150 feet of concrete a day, instead of the usual 50 to 60 feet. The Park Record exclaimed, “never was there a better crew of workmen, for they keep at it with that cheerfulness that makes work pleasant and brings results.”

A month later, paving had reached Second Street. Although all parties involved had hoped to go farther, winter came sooner than expected, and work was halted until the following year, when the final stretch of Main Street was completed.

Interested in learning more about the work that built this community? The Museum is hosting The Way Park City Worked, an exhibit presented in conjunction with the Smithsonian Institution’s The Way We Worked, here through Jan. 10, 2018. These exhibits explore twentieth-century labor history on the local and national levels. Hope to see you soon!

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