Imagine a heartfelt tribute carved in clay that brings to life the timeless bond between a boy and his loyal dogs—a monument that's not just art, but a bridge to a cherished story that shaped generations of young readers. In the heart of Idaho Falls, this sculpture honors Wilson Rawls, the author of the classic 'Where the Red Fern Grows,' and it's a reminder of how one man's journey from hardship to literary legend left an indelible mark on a community.
Published on November 4, 2025, at 12:00 p.m. | Updated at 12:41 p.m. on November 4, 2025
Nestled on the northeast corner of the Idaho Falls Public Library, you'll find a striking sculpture depicting Billy Coleman and his two faithful coonhounds from the beloved novel 'Where the Red Fern Grows.' This piece, crafted by local artist Marilyn Hoff Hansen back in the 1990s, stands as a lasting homage to Wilson Rawls, the story's creator, who once called this Idaho town home. For those unfamiliar, the book follows a young boy's adventures hunting with his dogs in the Ozark Mountains—a tale of love, loss, and growing up that has resonated with kids and adults alike since its release. Interestingly, Stewart Petersen, who brought Billy to life in the 1974 movie adaptation, shares fond memories in the video clip above about collaborating with Rawls right on the film set, giving us a personal peek into that creative magic.
IDAHO FALLS – Marilyn Hoff Hansen's lifelong love for sculpting and painting has turned her into a celebrated figure in the art world, with accolades pouring in from coast to coast.
Now 94 and still full of creative spark, this Idaho Falls resident has been molding clay since her earliest days, when her tiny hands could barely grasp the material. Her creations have graced the halls of prestigious institutions like universities, art galleries, and even the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Along the way, she's scooped up a collection of awards that highlight her exceptional talent.
Hansen shines brightest when shaping human and animal forms, with horses often taking center stage in her standout works. 'I was raised around horses—they were part of my world from the start,' she shares with EastIdahoNews.com, evoking images of a childhood filled with the rhythm of ranch life.
Many of her pieces were born in a repurposed old milk barn on her family's farm, not far from the Old Butte Soccer Complex. Converted into an artist's haven decades ago, this space still shelters a trove of her ongoing projects, waiting for that final touch. Though she's stepped back from taking on paid commissions these days, Hansen continues to tinker with new ideas right in her cozy home studio, keeping her passion alive.
Among the dozens of works she's produced over a remarkable career, Hansen holds a special place in her heart for her sculpture of Billy Coleman and his dogs. Unveiled on the library grounds after months of dedicated effort in the 1990s, it captures the essence of the book's emotional core—the unbreakable loyalty between a child and his animal companions.
Looking back, Hansen remembers the spark that ignited the project. 'The principal from Temple View Elementary reached out to me about creating a memorial for Wilson Rawls, the genius behind 'Where the Red Fern Grows,'' she recounts. 'He mentioned how the fifth graders were devouring the book and jokingly asked how many cookies it'd take to convince me to sculpt something special.'
At the time, Rawls was a former resident of Idaho Falls, where he'd penned his masterpiece, and the community yearned for a way to celebrate his legacy. To get things rolling, Hansen first fashioned a miniature version of the statue for the school. That little model 'traveled around town for about a year,' building excitement until the city stepped up to support the full-scale creation.
'The folks at city hall embraced the idea and encouraged me to bring this vision to life,' Hansen explains, highlighting how local enthusiasm turned a school request into a public treasure.
For authenticity, she drew inspiration from a pair of redbone coonhounds—often called red tick hounds—living in nearby Blackfoot, ensuring the dogs looked just right for their nocturnal hunting escapades in the story. Billy's likeness came from a blend of her own grandchildren as models, including her granddaughter Amanda Ward, who's now serving as a trooper with the Idaho State Police—a fun family full-circle moment.
As she worked outdoors, waves of students, educators, and librarians arrived by the busload to observe the process, turning it into a communal event. 'I'd hand each visitor a small ball of clay and invite them to add it wherever they wanted,' Hansen recalls with a smile. 'Of course, I'd gently adjust it later, but knowing a piece of them was in there made it feel shared. That's why I never fretted over vandalism—they felt like co-creators.'
The finished sculpture found its permanent spot in front of the library in 1999, with a lively dedication event on August 12 that year, drawing crowds from across the community, as noted by the Museum of Idaho. It was a celebration of art, literature, and local pride all rolled into one.
They knew him long before fame came calling
Long before Hansen's tribute took shape, Wilson Rawls had ventured to Idaho in search of opportunity with the Atomic Energy Commission on the vast Arco desert. Settling in Idaho Falls, he commuted by bus to his job, but the grueling trips soon wore him down, leading him to a new gig herding sheep for Jimmy Stewart, a rancher in the Monteview area.
But here's where it gets a bit controversial—Rawls' early life wasn't all smooth sailing. Before arriving in Idaho, he'd faced brushes with the law: two stints in Oklahoma prisons and one in New Mexico. According to the Bear Grease Podcast, in 1933, he was convicted of chicken theft and served 18 months behind bars. Then, seven years on in New Mexico, he got two to three years for breaking and entering. And this is the part most people miss: during those tough times in incarceration, Rawls turned to writing as an escape, honing the skills that would later birth his famous tales. Does a rocky past like that overshadow a lifetime of heartfelt stories for children? It's a question that sparks debate—can we separate the artist from their history, or does it add depth to their legacy?
Stewart, who sadly passed away last year at 95, left behind a daughter, Karen Stoddart, who recently opened up to EastIdahoNews.com about Rawls' days on their farm. 'He'd join us in the summers with the threshing crew,' she remembers. 'Part of the year, he worked as a carpenter in Arizona. He pitched in with our second hay harvest, grain work, and even built sturdy wooden head gates for the irrigation.'
Rawls returned to the Stewart ranch every summer for around six years, and the modest house where he stayed still stands today as a quiet testament to those hardworking days. After a few seasons, Stoddart's mother connected him with Sophie Styczinski, a family acquaintance and budget analyst for the AEC, who would become his devoted wife.
Interestingly, Rawls had already drafted the manuscript for 'Where the Red Fern Grows' before setting foot in Idaho. Inspired by Jack London's 'Call of the Wild' as a boy, he'd dreamed of writing since childhood, but his schooling was cut short. At just 16, during the Great Depression, he hit the road to earn money and support his family back in Oklahoma.
Wandering across the U.S. for jobs, he'd head home each autumn to hunt and lend a hand with family chores, as detailed in a historical account from the Mud Lake Museum. All the while, he stashed his handwritten stories in an old trunk, keeping his aspirations under wraps.
While laboring on the Stewart farm, word of his error-filled manuscript reached Stoddart's mom, who read it and offered helpful edits to polish his raw prose. Rawls and Styczinski tied the knot at the First Presbyterian Church in Idaho Falls, with Stewart proudly serving as best man, per Stoddart's recollections.
But embarrassed by his limited formal education, Rawls had torched his original manuscript just days before the wedding, nearly abandoning his writing dreams altogether. When he opened up to his new bride about it, Sophie encouraged him to start fresh. Together, they revised, refined, and shopped the story until it found a home.
First serialized in 1961 as 'The Hounds of Youth' in three parts for The Saturday Evening Post, it soon hit bookshelves as a full novel. Though it simmered quietly at first, popularity exploded once schools and teachers began assigning it, cementing its status as a classroom staple.
Rawls' only other book, 'Summer of the Monkeys,' was also composed during his Idaho Falls years, drawing from his own boyhood adventures.
He passed away at 71 on December 16, 1984, leaving behind a legacy that's still unfolding.
Stewart Petersen, the young star who embodied Billy in the 1974 film, forged a deep bond with Rawls, who served as narrator and advisor during production. 'I was essentially portraying his own childhood on screen,' Petersen reflects. 'He mentored me from day one, and we clicked fast. I'll always respect him for his kindness and genuine spirit.'
Describing Rawls as a 'stand-up guy who was real and unpretentious,' Petersen dives deeper into his behind-the-scenes stories—like landing the role and his current pursuits—in a full interview slated for the next 'It's Worth Mentioning' episode. Catch a teaser of our chat in the video above.
Art that continues to touch hearts
Those fifth graders who gathered to watch Hansen sculpt have long since stepped into adulthood, carrying memories of that hands-on lesson in creativity.
Hansen treasures the notes they sent her once the piece was done. 'The letters were so sweet, full of promises about sharing the story with their own kids someday,' she says. 'Years have flown by, and I've often pondered what tales they passed down to the next generation.'
Rawls called the Idaho Falls region home from 1958 to 1975, per records from the Oklahoma Historical Society, before he and Sophie relocated to Wisconsin, where he lived until his death. Chloe Doucette, managing director at the Museum of Idaho, notes that Rawls never had the chance to see Hansen's tribute in person—a poignant what-if that adds to the sculpture's mystique.
Decades on, Hansen's work remains a beloved landmark, drawing admirers who pause to reflect on its story. Recently, she shipped a scaled-down version to a woman curating a garden of children's literature sculptures at the University of Oklahoma, extending its reach even further.
Reflecting on those intensive months of creation from 30 years back, Hansen beams with joy. 'It was absolutely one of my top favorites, especially with all the kids stopping by to watch and participate,' she shares. 'I'm thrilled it still brings smiles and sparks conversations today.'
And that brings us to a thought-provoking point: In an era where public art often stirs debate over funding or placement, does a piece like this—tied to a controversial figure's past—deserve its spot as a community icon, or should we dig deeper into the author's full story before celebrating? What do you think—does knowing about Rawls' early struggles change how you view his books, or does it make his triumphs even more inspiring? Share your takes in the comments below; I'd love to hear if you've got a favorite memory from 'Where the Red Fern Grows' or thoughts on art's role in honoring imperfect heroes.
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