Late in April 1917, a talented group of artisans working under the direction of R.T. Woodard added the finishing touches to Provo's innovative, new concrete fountain that graced the middle of the intersection at Center Street and Academy (University) Avenue. During the next decade and a half, the fountain served as a backdrop for many Provo celebrations.

Provo sponsored a special pageant on July 4, 1919, to welcome home and honor all returning World War I veterans. Professor Elbert Eastmond wrote and directed the outdoor pageant. He staged the panorama's four episodes on a special "Court of Liberty."

In the center of the court stood the fountain, which was surrounded by an open pavilion shaded by sheer cloth. Amateur florists decorated the fountain with black walnut boughs and white flowers. The July 4 parade served as one of the pageant's episodes.

The people of Provo and the surrounding communities also celebrated Armistice Day around the fountain in 1924. A throng gathered around the landmark and listened to a 21-gun salute fired by Provo's Battery C of the Utah National Guard. After the last volley, the crowd observed two minutes of silence in memory of those who died during World War I.

The American Legion conducted the services at the fountain. Judge-elect George S. Ballif gave the principal address. He said the whole world remembered the end of the war with "happy pride, profound sorrow and promising hope."

Through the 1920s, various other celebrations and activities centered around Provo's fountain. The city celebrated Bicycle Day for the first time in 1921. Participants joined bicycle races of various lengths. All of the contests started at the fountain, and many of them ended there.

On the morning of the races, boys showed up early and gathered near the fountain. Before the races began, some of the excited young entries practiced so intensely on their bikes that they were almost too worn out for the races.

Many spectators considered the two-mile, free-for-all race to be the highlight of the day. Contestants peddled from the fountain to the Utah State Mental Hospital at the east end of Center Street and back to the fountain again.

The bicycle races continued for several years. They were often held in connection with Boys' Week. The two-mile race evolved into a cross country drive from the fountain to Springville and back. In 1927, the city discontinued the bike races starting near the fountain.

For several years during the 1920s, Provo City's elementary schools held their Maypole celebrations on Center Street with the fountain as a backdrop. The city closed Center Street between University Avenue and 100 East. On this stretch of road, each of the city's five elementary schools set up its own Maypole decorated with the school's colors.

Five little May Queens received introductions, and students braided the Maypoles to the applause of the audience consisting of proud parents and other appreciative spectators. After the program ended, the boys and girls marched to one of the city parks to participate in a field day.

Students decorated Maypoles near the fountain for two more years before the schools moved their celebration from the hot pavement of Center Street to the cool shade of Pioneer Park.

Provo High School also held functions near the fountain. In 1923, the Bulldogs played Granite High School in the semi-final game of the state football championship tournament. The night before the big game, members of the Provo High student body, led by the school's band, marched in a torchlight parade from the old high school on 300 West, where the city building now stands, to the fountain.

After parading through the business district and around the fountain for some time, the students proceeded to the intersection of 100 South and 100 West and used their 200 torches to build a large bonfire. For an hour, they sang school songs and bellowed school yells.

Some of Provo High School's other extra-curricular activities centered around the fountain elicited negative responses from the Daily Herald and segments of the general public. One of these incidents occurred on April 3, 1923.

Provo city workmen and many volunteers labored to level Timpanogos Park on March 30 of that same year. The city hoped to plant grass on that sports field later in the spring. Since Provo High School played home baseball and football games at the park, its student body received a call to help with the work.

According to Provo High's newspaper, the Provonian, the boys moved the dirt and the girls prepared a lunch for them. The Provonian printed the following description of the activities at the park:

"The hundreds of boys moving about with shovels, wheelbarrows, etc., resembled a hill of industrious ants and most of them proved as capable of using a spoon as they were of using a shovel when the girls provided them with luncheon on the completion of the work."

The work project would have gone without a hitch, except about two dozen boys failed to show up at the park that Saturday. Provo High students elected a judge, jury and attorneys and tried those boys who were not present. The judge found only about eight boys guilty. Their varied sentences included a 50-cent fine, labor on the tennis court or a ducking in Provo's fountain.

Only three boys -- June Hinckley, Stanley Nelson and Glenn Ripple -- warranted the most serious sentence, a ducking. The judge instructed each boy to wear clothes "which would stand wetting," and the court provided cars to take the drenched boys home afterwards so they would not catch cold.

The "ducking bee" took place on Tuesday at noon in front of 200 students and a number of other spectators. A group of boys hijacked the first victim, Glenn Ripple, as he stepped out of his car near 300 West Center. They "escorted" him three blocks east to the fountain and threw him into the water as he struggled to get away.

The second "dunkee," Stan Nelson, arrived at the fountain and gave himself up willingly and meekly. A mischievous plan for revenge provided him with solace. The dunking squad gave Nelson the old heave ho into the fountain and was surprised when he spouted back out of the not-so-deep with a bucket of water in his hands. Nelson had cached a bucket at the bottom of the pool, and he came up bailing water. Many of the boys who threw him into the fountain received a good drenching.

Hinckley made himself scarce that day and temporarily escaped a midday bath.

These dunkings did not go unnoticed. The Daily Herald criticized Provo High's administration and faculty for allowing "kangaroo courts," "mob spirit" and vigilante action as part of a school activity. The displeasure expressed by the newspaper and some of Provo's citizens prompted the school board to prohibit dunking parties, and the Herald gloated, "Now, children, go on with your lessons and your play!"

The Provonian retaliated by claiming the Herald "misrepresented what few facts they had and filled in with a great deal of personal opinion." The student newspaper also published the following poem criticizing the Herald and praising the Provo Post and its editor:

If you must see a paper man

The kind who does not boost;

But gets results from what he writes,

See Hicks, he runs the Post.

He is not full of bugaboo;

Nor does he like to spout.

Before he prints an article,

He learns without a doubt

That it's truth he's telling you,

And not a lot of bunk;

We like his paper, just because,

It is not filled up with junk.

For several years, many types of parades customarily started at or near the fountain and counter-marched back to disband near it. Whether the parades started at the fountain or not, almost all of them passed by it.

For many parade participants, the fountain offered a much-welcomed coolness. As a child in the 1920s, Provo resident Lucile Rawcliff remembers riding on a July 4 parade float. She can still recall the cool mist that refreshed her as the float turned the corner and passed close to the fountain.

The Timpanogos Hike Parade of 1925 ended at the fountain where participants and spectators held a street dance. Old Chief Timpanogos himself, and even his cave, rode in that parade. The parade committee encouraged businessmen and townspeople to wear hiking togs the day of the dance. Many businessmen decorated their windows with items and clothing related to hiking.

Although many people enjoyed the fountain, it did cause a number of serious problems. In 1917 when workmen erected the fountain, a local newspaper referred to the new structure as "an excellent traffic regulator." The fountain may have served that useful purpose during the end of the horse and buggy era, but as years passed and Provo grew, so did the automobile traffic at Provo's busiest intersection. The fountain definitely slowed traffic, and many drivers thought of it as a nuisance.

Don Hawke, a lifetime resident of southwest Provo, and some of his friends saw the slow traffic created by the fountain as an advantage. The boys roller skated several blocks from their homes to the fountain and engaged in some boyish fun.

Hawke and his buddies waited for cars and wagons to approach the fountain intersection. As the vehicles slowed, Don or one of his pals latched onto a tailgate or a bumper and received a free, long and relatively rapid roller skate ride. One drawback existed. The boys found it difficult to explain to their fathers why the wheels on their skates wore out so rapidly.

It did not take long for people to realize that the fountain obscured the view of passing motorists. Accidents at that intersection escalated in 1917 soon after workmen turned on the water. Many of the people involved in these "chance meetings" hailed from out of town and were not familiar with traffic patterns around the fountain. It must have been exciting to go through that intersection and not know what was going to turn in front of you or who was going to jump out into your path.

The intersection became particularly dangerous in the winter when the fountain froze and became encased in ice. The solid mass of ice really obscured a driver's view. Water overflowing onto the street froze, and the road near the fountain became very slick. Everyone agreed the fountain was particularly beautiful during the winter, but everyone also agreed that it created a slippery traffic hazzard.

A variety of accidents occurred near the fountain, and a fair number of them involved pedestrians. Not long after the fountain was completed, a Hansen Catering Co. delivery truck hit young Maurice Dusenberry as he crossed the road. The truck dragged him 30 feet.

Some of those who saw the accident picked the boy up, transported him to Provo Drug and called Dr. Robison. The doctor hurried the lad to Provo's hospital three blocks away.

Many cars also collided while traveling through the fountain intersection. Drivers settled some of the accidents more amicably in those days than is common today. N.J. Edmunds of Salt Lake City drove north on the Avenue and had just turned west onto Center street when he hit a car driven by Provo resident, W.D. Allen.

The accident tore off Allen's back fender and bent Edmund's "steering apparatus." The two men settled the problem between themselves. Edmunds paid Allen one dollar for the fender, which Allen admitted had been previously damaged. Edmunds then drove his semi-crippled car to the nearest garage. A mechanic straightened the car's right steering arm, allowing Edmunds to drive back to Salt Lake City where a statue of Brigham Young in the middle of the road, not a fountain, caused traffic nightmares.

Officials tried several methods of stopping the accidents near the fountain. First, they installed stop signs. Then in 1929, they removed the top lights from the fountain to make room for Provo's first traffic light, which hung above the troublesome intersection.

City workmen removed the words "KEEP-TO-RIGHT" from the base of the fountain, and drivers received instructions to cut the corner instead of going around the fountain. A month after the big change, the Herald reported:

"While most drivers have already become accustomed to cutting the corner short, there are yet a few persons who go around the fountain. The officer expresses the hope that this practice will be discontinued henceforth."

In spite of these precautions, accidents continued. Seven wrecks at the fountain intersection occurred in the first five months of 1931.

During one of the accidents, the fountain sustained a direct hit. A police officer, E.J. Edwards, and a night watchman, Allen Allman, looked on at 12:10 a.m. on a mid-March morning as Fred S. Smart, a more than slightly inebriated driver from Spanish Fork, drove into the fountain head-on. He and his car received extensive damage, but the fountain did not budge.

In 1930 and again in 1931, the Evening Herald printed editorials asking for the fountain's removal. On January 16, 1930, the Herald complained:

"It is felt among automobile owners that the fountain is becoming an unnecessary impediment with the increase of traffic at the busiest place in the city. Especially is this true in sub-freezing weather when overflowing water forms a shining ice rink on which drivers play hide and seek as they dart past the fountain in various directions."

The Herald suggested moving the fountain to one of the city parks "as a monument to the horse and buggy era." The city turned off the fountain's water during the winter in order to alleviate icy conditions, but officials hesitated to remove the fountain because the city lacked the finances.

Since the fountain stood in the middle of a state highway, the state road department proposed to remove the ornament in order to make the road safer. Provo city accepted the offer. At 10:00 p.m. on May 28, 1931, two large state trucks came like thieves in the night.

A group of Provo night owls who noticed the vehicles went to see what the state boys were doing and stayed to watch the action. A few of the spectators may have been interested in finding the bottle of pre-prohibition Scotch buried under the fountain as part of a time capsule.

The state road employees attached heavy chains to their trucks, secured the other end to the fountain, and pushed on the gas. The fountain slowly but steadily toppled. The workmen jack-hammered it into smaller pieces and hauled them away. Ironically, Provo's symbol of enterprise became a victim of progress.

The next morning, Provo citizens woke up to an unobstructed view of a very common-looking intersection. Some people, like current Provo resident Zelda Luke, were sad to see the fountain removed. Billy Wilson must have been unhappy also, but his first words on learning of the fountain's destruction disguised his feelings. "Who got the bottle?" he asked.