Harry Morrison was famous for bringing construction projects in on time and within budgets - but not Ann Morrison Park.

The park that just turned 50 was finished on time - 10 months from swampy field to showplace - but the budget was something else.

"Mr. Morrison donated $1 million, and when it was spent it was supposed to be done," said retired Morrison Knudsen Corp. vice president Clarence "Smilie" Anderson. "When it was gone, he said, 'Where's the playground? Where are the tennis courts? Where are the shrubs and benches?' By the time he was done, the million was $1.25 million."

That didn't include donations of flagpoles, fireplaces, the clock tower, hundreds of trees and other gifts from Boiseans who had voted against using the site for a second high school, but who enthusiastically supported it as a park.

On Saturday, Boiseans gathered again for a mega-bash to celebrate the park's birthday. A ceremony with Velma Morrison, Morrison's second wife, and members of Ann Daly Morrison's family highlighted the day, which was capped off by fireworks.

Back during the park's construction, MK bosses supervised a crew that Anderson estimated at 30 to 40 workers. One was Vernon Arp. He ran a backhoe to plant trees and lay sprinkler pipe.

"It was a tough job," he said. "The weeds were so tall that the first pass through, I couldn't see a thing. They brought in fill dirt from the desert. We spent weeks raking it just to plant the first patch of grass."

Daryl Hezeltine cleared trees. With an axe.

"I made $4.05 an hour," he said. "It was hard work, but I was young and foolish."

Jim Kaufman, then 12, lived on the rim overlooking the park.

"There was no drinking water there," he said, "and a road-grader operator paid me 25 cents a day to bring him a gallon of water. That was my summer job."

Arp remembers Morrison visiting the site regularly, but he never met him. Then in his 70s, MK's co-founder was an almost godlike figure in Boise.

Starting with $600, some tools and some horses, he made MK one of the world's largest construction companies on projects from Hoover Dam to air bases in Vietnam. Time magazine said he had done more than anyone to change the face of the Earth. He was credited with saving Idaho First National Bank during the Depression. And with his craggy face and mane of white hair, he even looked godlike.

The park, a memorial to his first wife, held a special place in his heart - and in those of countless Boiseans.

An estimated 10,000 of them - almost a third of the city's official population - jammed the park on a cool June day in 1959 to see Morrison's gift, which Anderson said the city initially was reluctant to accept: "They were concerned about maintenance costs."

At 153 acres, the park was and is Boise's largest. In addition to conventional features, its attractions included a never-used auditorium site, a contemporary clock tower, the copper weather vane from Boise's old city hall, and a reflecting pool and fountain with lights that changed colors.

Patti Powell, now of Oregon City, Ore., drove with her family through the park the night it opened, "along with everyone else in Boise. I was 6 or 7, I think. I mostly remember the fountain - colored lights on shooting streams of water. It was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen."

When project manager J.V. "Vern" Otter noticed before the dedication ceremony that the water in the reflecting pool looked dirty gray, he poured six bottles of Mrs. Stewart's Bluing (a fabric whitening agent) into it. The water obligingly turned pale blue.

Morrison's putting Otter (no relation to Gov. Butch Otter) in charge of the project reflected the value he placed on it. Otter's engineering credits included North Junior High School, the Ada County Courthouse and Capitol Boulevard.

"He was Mr. Morrison's personal engineer," Anderson said. "Stuff that was really bad he'd give to Vern to sort out. When he told him he wanted to build a park, Vern said he'd start on the design. Mr. Morrison said, 'No, I want to build a park.' They had tractors out there the next morning."

They weren't exactly winging it, however. By the time the job was over, Otter had toured other parks around the country for ideas and worked with architects Morrison hired.

Ann Daly Morrison, the park's namesake, died of leukemia in 1957. While Powell's parents were driving home from the dedication 50 years ago, she said, "They talked about how much Harry Morrison must have loved Ann to build such a park for her."

Tim Woodward: 377-6409