The Mayor’s Spurs
or, The Man Who Saved Everyone Except His Favorite Thing
Based on the true story of McKean O. Laird
Mayor of Roberts, Idaho, during the Teton Dam Flood of 1976
From the Teton Oral History Program, interviewed June 21, 1977
THE TETON LETTERS
A Robison Institute Publication
Based on the oral history testimony of McKean O. Laird
Interviewed by Christina Sorensen, June 21, 1977
Teton Oral History Program
Fifty Years Later: Voices from the TetonDamDiasaster, 1976–2026
For Bessy Jones,
who lived in her house for fifty-three years
and would not stop asking to go home.
And for every child who has ever lost something they loved very much.
On the morning everything changed,
Mick Laird was planting his lawn.
He was on his hands and knees in the dirt, pressing tiny seeds into the warm brown earth outside his little house at 202 Chicago Street.
It was a Saturday in June. The sun was up. The sky was wide and blue.
Mick was the mayor of a tiny town called Roberts, in the state of Idaho, where the land is flat and the mountains are far away and the people leave their doors unlocked because they can’t think of a reason not to.
Inside Mick’s house, up on a shelf, was his favorite thing in the world.
A pair of old cavalry spurs.
He’d found them years ago, out in the Idaho desert—half buried in the dust, left behind by a soldier on a horse a hundred years before.
They were no good to anyone else. They were too old to wear, too rusty to shine, too small to sell.
But Mick loved those spurs.
He loved what they meant: that someone brave had ridden across this same wide land, a long, long time ago.
Then the radio spoke.
Far away in the mountains, a big dam had broken.
All the water it was holding—a whole lake’s worth—was pouring down the valley.
It was heading toward the towns below.
It was heading toward Roberts.
Mick put down his seeds.
He wiped his hands on his pants.
And he went to work.
The very first thing Mick did was—
Can you guess?
Math.
He sat down with a police officer and they figured it out together. If twenty-five feet of water was hitting the towns up the valley, how deep would it be by the time it spread all the way to Roberts?
They scratched the numbers on a notepad.
Three and a half feet, they said. That’s about as high as you are right now.
Mick drove through town telling everyone: "You need to leave! The water is coming!"
But the people of Roberts had a saying.
They said it to each other, and they said it to Mick, and they said it like they were saying the sky is blue or the grass is green or Wednesday comes after Tuesday:
“The railroad will stop it.”
Big, tall railroad tracks ran across the north side of town, up on a mound of dirt and gravel as high as a house. The water had never, ever crossed those tracks. Not once. Not in anyone’s memory.
So why would it now?
Some people said no.
Some people went to bed.
Some people said very rude things that we will not repeat here.
But Mick kept going.
He sent helpers to every house in town to turn off the electricity and the gas. Because Mick had been listening to the radio, and he’d heard about fires breaking out in the other towns. He wasn’t going to let that happen here.
Not in his town.
Not to his people.
At four in the morning, Mick drove to a bridge on the edge of town.
He looked out across the dark fields.
And he saw it.
Not a big, crashing wave. Not like in the movies.
Something much bigger.
Something much quieter.
A silver lake, eight miles wide, sliding toward him in the dark.
So quiet. So enormous. Moving across the flat land like it had always been there, like it was coming home.
The water crossed the railroad tracks.
The thing that had never happened, happened.
The water came right over those big, tall tracks as if they weren’t even there.
It poured into Roberts.
It filled the streets.
It covered the yards.
It climbed the porches.
And the man who’d said he’d never leave his brand-new house?
He stepped out of bed into a foot and a half of cold, muddy water.
“Are you going to leave now?” Mick asked. “Yes sir,” the man said. “I’m going to get out.”
By morning, you could drive a motorboat down every street in Roberts.
And that is exactly what Mick did.
He went house to house.
He knocked on doors—the ones still above the waterline.
He carried people out who couldn’t walk through the water on their own.
He checked on every person, in every house, on every block.
Because of Mick Laird, not one person in Roberts died.
Not one person was hurt by fire.
Not one.
There was an old woman named Bessy Jones.
Bessy had lived in her house for fifty-three years. She and her husband had raised their whole family there. Every room held a memory. Every corner held a story.
For five days after the flood, Bessy asked Mick the same question:
“When can I go to my house?"
Every single time she saw him.
Every single day.
On the fifth day, Mick put Bessy on a tractor—the only thing that could get through the mud. He drove her to her house. He carried her across the water so she could stand on her own floor.
Because a home is a home. And Bessy needed to see hers.
Here is the strangest part.
In other towns, the flood came and went. But in Roberts, the water came—
and stayed.
Roberts was built on the bottom of an old, old lake. The lake had dried up thousands of years ago, and people built a town where the water used to be.
Now the water had come back. And it remembered.
They had to bring in seven giant pumps and run them day and night for nine whole days, pumping the water out of Roberts one gallon at a time.
They even had to cut holes in those famous railroad tracks to let the water drain.
The tracks that couldn’t keep the water out were keeping the water in.
When Mick finally went home, he looked up at the shelf.
The spurs were gone.
They hadn’t been smashed. They hadn’t been broken.
They’d been swept away in the mud and the mess when people came to clean out the ruined houses. Thrown on a pile with everything else. Hauled to the dump.
Mick said he could have saved them.
If he’d had the time.
But he hadn’t had the time, because he was busy saving everyone else.
When the emergency trailers came, the officials said: “Mick, you’re the mayor. You get the first one.”
Mick said no.
“Give them to everyone else first,” he said. “Then I’ll take one.”
He and his wife lived in a tiny little trailer he’d bought with his own money. It was small and cramped and not very comfortable.
But Mick didn’t want to be first because of his title. He wanted to be last because of his heart.
He was the last man out of Roberts— and the last one to get a roof over his head.
By October—four months after the flood—Mick was back in a new house.
He’d built it fast on purpose. He wanted his neighbors to see the mayor rebuilding. He wanted them to think:
If he can do it, maybe we can too.
And they did.
One by one, the houses of Roberts came back. New paint. New porches. New lawns.
And something else came back too—something the town hadn’t had before.
The people were working together now. The flood had washed away a lot of things. But it hadn’t washed away the people.
A year later, a young woman with a tape recorder came to Roberts.
She asked Mick about the flood and the water and the people and the railroad tracks and the motorboat and everything.
And at the very end, she asked:
“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”
Mick thought about it.
He thought about the lawn he’d been planting.
He thought about the spurs he’d lost.
He thought about Bessy Jones asking to go home.
He thought about the silver water, eight miles wide.
And then the mayor of Roberts, Idaho, said:
“No. I’ll just be quiet and go about my way.”
THE END
A Note for Grown-Ups
This story is based on the oral history testimony of McKean O. Laird, recorded June 21, 1977, by interviewer Christina Sorensen as part of the Teton Oral History Program—a joint project of Ricks College (now Brigham Young University–Idaho), the Idaho State Historical Society, and Utah State University. Every major event in the story—the lawn, the math, the railroad, the motorboat, Bessy Jones, the spurs, and the last trailer—comes directly from Laird’s own testimony.
On June 5, 1976, the Teton Dam in eastern Idaho failed during its first filling, releasing approximately 80 billion gallons of water into the Teton River valley. Eleven people died. More than 25,000 were displaced. The town of Roberts, situated on an ancient lake bed south of Rexburg, experienced a unique form of the disaster: the floodwater pooled in the old basin and would not drain, requiring days of mechanical pumping to clear. McKean Laird, as mayor, organized the evacuation, the utility shutoffs that prevented secondary fires and electrocutions, and the community’s recovery. No one in Roberts died.
The Teton Dam failed due to design inadequacies identified by the Independent Panel to Review Cause of Teton Dam Failure (1976). The dam’s erodible silt core was placed in a foundation of fractured, highly permeable rhyolite—a combination vulnerable to the internal erosion (piping) that ultimately caused the collapse. The failure was a design problem, not a construction problem. Robert R. Robison (1924–2018), the Bureau of Reclamation’s Project Construction Engineer, raised documented field concerns about foundation conditions and was fully exonerated by the Panel’s findings.
Why This Story Matters Today
The Teton Dam site has stood empty for fifty years. The Eastern Snake Plain Aquifer—the massive underground reservoir that supplies water to farms, cities, and ecosystems across southern Idaho—is in serious decline. Idaho Senator Kevin Cook’s “750K by 2100” water storage initiative (Senate Joint Memorial 101) envisions a rebuilt Teton Dam as a cornerstone of the state’s water security strategy.
If the dam is rebuilt, it must be built right. The Robison Institute—a policy, research, and thought leadership organization focused on water infrastructure and systems engineering—advocates for reconstruction using roller-compacted concrete (RCC) technology, which eliminates the erodibility that doomed the original earth-fill design. The Institute’s Robert Robison Protocol establishes a formal safety framework requiring documented management response to every field-identified engineering concern—ensuring the communication failures that preceded the 1976 disaster can never be repeated.
The Robison Institute is a national thought leader in applying systems engineering best practices to dam design and water infrastructure. Its mission: ensure that the most advanced technology, materials science, and organizational protocols protect every community downstream.
Mick Laird wanted the dam rebuilt. Even after everything it cost him, he understood the valley needed the water. His only condition was the same as ours: use the right material. Build it right.
Talking to Young Children About This Story
Children ages 4–8 may have questions about floods, loss, and fear. Here are some conversation starters:
• "What was the bravest thing Mick did?" — This helps children identify courage in action, not just in feelings.
• "Why do you think the people didn’t believe Mick when he said the water was coming?" — This introduces the idea that sometimes we don’t believe warnings because we don’t want them to be true.
• "Mick lost his cavalry spurs because he was helping everyone else. What would you want to save if you only had time to save one thing?" — This helps children think about what really matters to them.
• "Mick said the flood brought the people of Roberts closer together. Can something bad lead to something good?" — This opens a gentle conversation about resilience.
• "Mick was the last one to get a trailer. He let everyone else go first. Why?" — This is a direct conversation about servant leadership that even very young children can grasp.
If a child seems worried about floods or disasters after reading this story, reassure them that grown-ups—like Mick—plan and prepare to keep people safe. The lesson of Roberts is that when one person does the right thing, nobody has to get hurt.
About The Teton Letters
The Teton Letters is a literary journalism series published by The Robison Institute through The Water Ledger on Substack. The series transforms survivor testimony from the 1976 Teton Dam disaster into narrative nonfiction in three editions: Adult (literary journalism), Young Readers’ (ages 8–15, with NGSS-aligned science education), and Storybook (ages 4–8, the edition you are reading now).
All three editions honor the same principle: these are true stories of real people, told as faithfully as we can manage, for everyone old enough to listen.
The fiftieth anniversary of the Teton Dam failure is June 5, 2026.
A NOTE ON THIS ACCOUNT
This narrative is based on the oral history testimony of McKean O. Laird, recorded June 21, 1977, by Christina Sorensen as part of the Teton Oral History Program—a joint project of Ricks College (now Brigham Young University–Idaho), the Idaho State Historical Society, and Utah State University, funded by the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, the Idaho State Legislature, and the National Endowment for the Humanities. The original transcript is preserved in the BYU–Idaho Special Collections (Teton Dam Disaster Collection) and the Milton R. Merrill Library at Utah State University.
The Teton Letters is a literary journalism series published by The Robison Institute through The Water Ledger on Substack. The series transforms survivor testimony from the 1976 Teton Dam disaster into narrative nonfiction for the fiftieth anniversary commemoration on June 5, 2026. It serves dual purposes: honoring the people who lived through the flood and building the evidentiary record for federal advocacy supporting the reconstruction of Teton Dam under modern engineering standards.
The Independent Panel to Review Cause of Teton Dam Failure (1976) determined that the dam failed due to design inadequacies—specifically, the use of an erodible silt core in a foundation of fractured, highly permeable rhyolite—and not due to construction error. Robert R. Robison (1924–2018), the Bureau of Reclamation’s Project Construction Engineer for the original dam, raised documented field concerns about foundation conditions prior to the failure and was fully exonerated by the Panel’s findings.
© 2026 The Robison Institute. All rights reserved.
Adapted for The Teton Letters by The Robison Institute
Teton Saint Studios and The Robison Institute Presents…
The story of McKean Laird is so good that we teamed up with Teton Saint studios and wrote and produced a song. Enjoy “Last Man Out ”
Interesting Link
Author’s Interview with East Idaho News
Additional Robison Institute Teton Dam Diasaster Content
The Hydraulics That Doomed the Teton Dam
June 5, 1976. The Teton Reservoir stood at elevation 5,301.7 feet, holding approximately 240,000 acre-feet of water against a 305-foot-high zoned embankment. At the right abutment near Station 14+00, water found a path it was never designed to take.
Robert R. Robison, Bureau of Reclamation Project Construction Engineer, observed the first clear signs shortly after 9:00 a.m.: a small leak of clear water (≈ 2 cfs) issuing from the embankment–foundation contact at elevation 5,200 feet, followed minutes later by a turbid leak (40–50 cfs) boiling from the abutment rock itself at the downstream toe. The water was carrying fine particles of the dam’s own Zone 1 core material.
The Driving Forces
Hydraulic head: ≈ 272 feet (reservoir surface to lowest exit point).
Seepage path: Short (roughly 50–100 feet horizontally) through unsealed joints in the fractured volcanic rhyolite foundation.
Resulting hydraulic gradient: Extremely steep (i ≈ 2.7 or higher).
The foundation had not been adequately treated; the single grout curtain could not seal the highly jointed, pervious rhyolite. Once a continuous flow path opened (likely enlarged by hydraulic fracturing or differential strain in the narrow key trench), internal erosion—classic piping—began.
The key-trench fill (loess-derived silty clay, Zone 1) was highly erodible and placed on the dry side of optimum. With no filter zones at the critical dam–abutment contact, eroded particles were free to exit. Flow accelerated, exit channels enlarged, and the process became self-reinforcing.
The Runaway Failure Sequence
10:00–10:30 a.m. — New leak erupts in the downstream face (≈ 15 cfs, turbid, tunnel-like opening). Bulldozers attempting to plug it are swallowed.
≈ 11:00 a.m. — Whirlpool forms in the reservoir upstream.
11:30 a.m. — Sinkhole appears on the downstream slope below the crest.
11:55 a.m. — Crest sags and drops.
11:57 a.m. — Right third of the dam disintegrates.
The breach widened rapidly to roughly 495–500 feet at the base. Peak discharge through the breach reached an estimated 2.0–2.3 million cubic feet per second—one of the largest dam-break outflows ever recorded. The reservoir emptied in about six hours.
Official Findings
The Independent Panel of Experts (1976) and the parallel Interior Review Group concluded unequivocally:
The failure originated in the right foundation key trench through internal erosion (piping). Construction conformed to the design in all significant respects. The design did not adequately account for the highly jointed, pervious rhyolite foundation or the extreme erodibility of the key-trench fill.
Robert R. Robison’s documented field concerns about foundation treatment were part of the record that helped establish these conclusions. The entire construction team was exonerated of blame for the collapse.
Why This Matters Fifty Years Later
The Teton failure remains the textbook example in dam-safety training worldwide. It demonstrates how quickly an embankment can unravel when design assumptions do not match foundation reality and when there is insufficient redundancy (no filters, no drains, no instrumentation capable of early detection of turbidity).
The Robert Robison Protocol advocated by The Robison Institute simply formalizes what the Project Construction Engineer did instinctively: require every engineer to document safety or foundation concerns in writing, in real time, so they cannot be lost in the chain of command.
This appears with every Teton Letter so that each true human story is also a complete, citable technical reference. Together they preserve both the courage of the people and the precise engineering truths that must never be forgotten.
— Richard Robison
The Robison Institute
May 2026 (50th Anniversary Year)
Sources: 1977 Teton Flood Oral History Project transcripts (MSSI 02, BYU–Idaho Special Collections), Independent Panel Report (1976), and the institutional record of the Project Construction Engineer.
The Official Engineering Record: Hour-by-Hour Reconstruction of the Teton Dam Failure Day
June 5, 1976
Compiled exclusively by The Robison Institute from sworn testimonies in the* Independent Panel to Review Cause of Teton Dam Failure report (U.S. Department of the Interior, December 1976, Chapter 2: “Chronology of Failure and USBR Reactions”), cross-referenced with the Interior Review Group (IRG) findings and the authoritative analysis “The Teton Dam Failure – An Effective Warning and Evacuation” (Wayne J. Graham, P.E.). All times are reconciled from on-site eyewitness accounts given under oath. This is the definitive primary-source record.
The Independent Panel—composed of leading dam engineers and geologists—concluded after exhaustive review (including excavation of the remnant dam, laboratory testing, and 37+ sworn testimonies) that:
- The failure occurred by internal erosion (piping) originating deep in the right-abutment key trench.
- The highly pervious rhyolite foundation and erodible core material allowed seepage to exit through unsealed rock joints.
- Construction conformed to the design in all significant aspects; no evidence of poor workmanship or deviation from specifications contributed to the failure.
- The design did not adequately address the foundation conditions and soil characteristics in the key trench.
Reservoir elevation at failure: El. 5301.7 (3.3 ft below spillway sill). Peak outflow exceeded 1 million cfs.
Pre-Dawn to 9:00 a.m. – First Indications and Leadership Response
- ~7:00–7:30 a.m.: Survey crew (including Clifford Felkins, Harry Parks, Richard Berry, and Myra H. Ferber) observed the **first on-dam leaks** on the downstream face/right abutment. A small, steady flow of **clear water** issued from the toe area (El. 5045, right abutment) and another small leak ~100 ft below the crest (El. ~5200, ~15 ft from right abutment). Water began washing fill at the toe. Reported promptly to project office. Small clear seeps had been noted downstream on June 3–4 but raised no immediate alarm.
- ~8:20–8:30 a.m.: Field Engineer Peter P. Aberle was called at home by Jan Ringel and arrived on site.
- ~8:50–9:00 a.m.: Project Construction Engineer Robert R. Robison (PCE) and Aberle inspected both leaks in person.
- Toe leak (El. 5045): ~40–50 cfs, “moderately turbid” (muddy), issuing from abutment rock.
- Higher leak (El. ~5200): ~2 cfs, only “slightly turbid”, appearing to come from abutment rock.
Photos were taken; leaks were monitored closely but still considered manageable.
9:00–10:30 a.m. – Escalation and Decision Window
- Leaks increased in volume and number along the downstream face near the right abutment.
- ~10:00–10:30 a.m.: A new, larger leak developed ~15 ft from the right abutment at El. ~5200. Initial flow ~15 cfs, rapidly becoming turbid and increasing. A loud “burst” or roar was heard as erosion accelerated on the downstream face. Wet spots appeared and grew. Bulldozers were dispatched to push riprap and material into the developing holes. Robison considered alerting residents around 9:30–10:00 a.m. but held off to avoid unnecessary panic, believing the situation was not yet critical.
10:30–11:00 a.m. – Critical Turning Point and Initial Notifications
- ~10:30 a.m.: Erosion hole enlarged dramatically; dozers worked frantically.
- 10:43 a.m. – Robison’s first official call: The PCE notified dispatchers at the Fremont and Madison County sheriffs’ offices. He advised them of worsening leaks, potential flooding, and to alert citizens downstream to prepare for possible evacuation. To Sheriff Stegelmeier (Fremont County) he noted there was “a possibility the dam might go but it would ‘go slowly.’” (This was the initial “prepare” notification.) Sheriffs began preliminary alerts.
- ~11:00 a.m.: A whirlpool formed in the reservoir directly above the right abutment and grew rapidly. Additional dozers were sent; two were lost/swallowed as the hole expanded (operators rescued).
Simultaneous internal notification via Palisades: Robison radioed Art Hayes, operator at Palisades Power Plant (the USBR communications relay for the Upper Snake system). He reported Teton Dam entering a possible failure mode, large muddy leakage eroding the embankment from the right abutment/toe, that he had already given a heads-up to local radio stations and the Fremont-Madison Sheriff’s Office for possible evacuation, and asked Hayes to notify proper USBR officials in Boise.
11:00–11:57 a.m. – Full Evacuation Order and Breach
- 11:00–11:30 a.m. – Robison’s second (actual evacuation) call: The PCE made a follow-up request to both sheriffs’ offices for a complete evacuation of all low-lying areas below Teton Dam**. Radio and loudspeaker warnings followed immediately.
- ~11:30 a.m.: Dozers abandoned as the erosion hole(s) expanded uncontrollably. A second sinkhole appeared on the downstream face.
- ~11:50 a.m.: Visible breaching of the dam crest.
- 11:57 a.m.: Full breach of the north (right-abutment) end of the dam. The reservoir released ~80 billion gallons in a catastrophic flood.
Post-Breach
USBR and local responders shifted immediately to emergency aid. Downstream communities (Wilford, Sugar City, Rexburg, etc.) were already in motion thanks to the earlier warnings.
Why this record matters: Every detail above comes directly from sworn, on-site testimonies of the engineers and crews present (Aberle, Robison, Ringel, surveyors, dozer operators, etc.). The Panel’s exhaustive investigation ruled out construction error or scheduling issues as causal factors. The human stories you share in *The Teton Letters*—the courage, grief, resilience, and faith of survivors—fit perfectly alongside this engineering truth. Together they honor both the technical lessons and the people who lived through it.
Primary Sources (all publicly available):
- Failure of Teton Dam – Independent Panel Report (USBR, Dec. 1976) – especially Chapter 2 and appendices with verbatim testimonies.
- Interior Review Group (IRG) Report (1977).
- “The Teton Dam Failure – An Effective Warning and Evacuation” (Graham, 2008/updated analyses drawing from the same records).
This reconstruction stands as the most granular, citable timeline from the official hearings. It is offered here with respect for every survivor whose voice appears in *The Teton Letters*. New posts will continue to honor those testimonies while grounding them in the record that the Independent Panel established.
The Robison Institute / Teton Letters
The “Water Greed” Narrative – Responsible Water Stewardship in a Drought-Prone Region
In recent accounts of the Teton Dam project, some observers have characterized the accelerated reservoir filling in spring 1976 as evidence of “water greed” or unchecked excitement over “catching so much water.” This framing overlooks the fundamental hydrological and economic realities of the Upper Snake River Valley — a semi-arid region where water storage has long been a matter of agricultural survival, not excess.
The Teton Basin Project was authorized by Congress precisely because the area faces chronic water scarcity. Annual precipitation in the Teton Basin and eastern Snake River Plain averages only 12–18 inches, with most falling as snow. Farms and communities have historically depended on capturing spring snowmelt runoff to irrigate more than 111,000 acres of cropland during the dry summer months. Severe drought in 1961, followed by flooding in 1962, underscored the need for reliable storage: without it, crops failed and local economies suffered. The project’s Congressionally mandated purposes included supplemental irrigation water, flood control, hydropower, and recreation — not optional luxuries, but essential infrastructure for a region where drought is a recurring threat to livelihoods.
When the Project Construction Engineer requested (and received) authorization to increase the initial filling rate from one foot per day to two feet per day in March 1976 — and later to manage inflows as needed — he was responding to straightforward hydrological necessity. The primary river outlet works were still incomplete due to contractor delays. Only the smaller auxiliary outlet tunnel was operational, with a limited capacity of roughly 850 cubic feet per second. Heavy 1975–76 snowpack produced inflows that far exceeded what could be released downstream. The practical choice was clear: either allow uncontrolled releases or store the water that the dam had been built to capture. Robison’s decisions were data-driven, based on normal groundwater monitoring results and a commitment to intensified surveillance. They reflected pragmatic engineering judgment under real-world constraints, not greed or political pressure.
The notion that engineers were eagerly “filling this large reservoir in one year” because they were excited to hoard water mischaracterizes the project’s core mission. In an arid basin where drought can arrive any season, storing spring runoff is responsible stewardship — the very reason the American West invested in reclamation dams for more than a century. Water captured in wet years sustains farms, families, and food production through dry ones. Far from reckless, this approach has been the foundation of irrigated agriculture across the Snake River Plain for generations.
A persistent myth links the accelerated fill rate directly to the dam’s failure on June 5, 1976. The official “Independent Panel to Review Cause of Teton Dam Failure” examined this question exhaustively and rejected it:
“The Panel believes that the conditions which caused the piping and consequent failure of the dam were not materially affected by the fact that the reservoir was filled at a more rapid rate than had been originally planned. A slower rate of filling would have delayed the failure but, in the judgment of the Panel, a similar failure would have occurred at some later date.”
The root causes were design flaws in the foundation and key trench — issues independent of the operational fill rate.
The Project Engineer and the project team were not chasing surplus water out of greed. They were fulfilling a Congressionally authorized mandate to secure a vital, life-sustaining resource in a region that has always lived at the mercy of snowpack and drought cycles. In the high-desert West, catching water is not a sin — it is survival. Framing prudent reservoir management as greed distorts both the historical record and the ongoing reality of water management in drought-prone Idaho.
About This Series
The Teton Letters is a literary journalism series published by The Robison Institute commemorating the 50th anniversary of the Teton Dam failure (June 5, 1976). Each installment draws on oral history testimony archived in the BYU–Idaho Special Collections Teton Dam Oral History Program. The series is published through The Water Ledger on Substack.
About The Robison Institute
The Robison Institute is a systems engineering think tank focused on critical water infrastructure, reliability engineering, and policy advocacy for the American West. The Institute’s work is informed by the legacy of Robert R. Robison (1924–2018), the Bureau of Reclamation’s Project Construction Engineer for the original Teton Dam, who raised documented field warnings prior to the June 5, 1976 failure and was fully exonerated by the Independent Panel. The Robert Robison Protocol, developed by the Institute, establishes formal engineering safety standards for field-level dissent on critical infrastructure projects.
Recurring Institutional References
Independent Panel Finding: The Teton Dam failure resulted from design flaws in the dam’s cross-section, not construction error. The highly permeable volcanic foundation and inadequate key trench geometry permitted internal erosion (piping) that caused the catastrophic breach.
Robert R. Robison: Fully exonerated by the Independent Panel. His documented field warnings represent the standard of professional engineering courage the Robert Robison Protocol is designed to protect and formalize.
750K by 2100: Idaho Senator Kevin Cook’s initiative (Senate Joint Memorial 101) targeting 750,000 acre-feet of additional water storage for Idaho by 2100, addressing the ongoing decline of the Eastern Snake Plain Aquifer.
RCC Technology: Roller-compacted concrete dam construction eliminates the internal-erosion vulnerability of earthfill dams and represents the technically preferred method for any future structure at the Teton site.
This story is based on the oral history testimony of McKean O. Laird, interviewed by Christina Sorensen, June 21, 1977. The recording was part of the Teton Oral History Program, a collaboration between Ricks College (now BYU–Idaho), the Idaho State Historical Society, and Utah State University, funded by the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, the Idaho State Legislature, and the National Endowment for the Humanities. Everything in this story—the events, the dialogue, the details—comes from Mayor Laird’s own words.
© 2026 The Robison Institute. All rights reserved.
Original oral history testimony © BYU–Idaho Special Collections. Used with attribution.