R189 your story doesn't surprise me in the least. The Idaho Panhandle region is white supremacist central—mostly the Sandpoint area on the west side, but the whole region has a history of that. I grew up in Portland but have extended family in Montana and have traveled through that region more times than I can count. Once you leave Spokane and head east, there isn't another major city until you hit Minneapolis. All of the towns and cities between are largely small and isolated.
Wallace is charming in appearance, but there is very much a "stuck in time" feeling about it—also, the whole town is crammed in-between two steep mountainsides, and because of that, there's a limited amount of sunlight that hits it. I have been there many times as a pit stop while traveling through, but it wasn't until a few years go that I actually decided to spend the night. I felt odd the entire time I was there. The hotel I stayed in was old, and the layout rambling—I remember accidentally going through a glass door into a separate hallway that reeked of cigarette smoke and had brown shag carpeting. I initially thought it was part of the hotel, but realized after seeing mailboxes on the wall that it was residential (I am assuming half of the building had been converted to apartments at some point in the '60s or '70s). I could hear movement from people, got creeped out, and went straight back where I came from. It frankly seemed like a security risk to allow hotel guests/residents mutual access between the two spaces, but in a town like Wallace, I don't think these things matter.
The next day, I wandered around the downtown area, which has a lot of old, empty business spaces. There was an abandoned bar called "Sweet's Lounge" that I passed. Peering through the window, it looked like it had shut down in 1980 and not been touched since. There was also an old, closed-up livery stable that has probably been there for 150+ years. I stopped at a couple of antique shops (housed in what were at one time ostensibly bustling department stores), and that was equally strange. In one of them, I went into the basement, which was a large, dirt/stone room with some furniture, outdoor signs, and other miscellany lined around the perimeter. It was poorly-lit (almost too dark to see anything) and, after standing there for a few moments, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was not alone. Whatever the presence was, it scared me so much that I bolted back upstairs.
Before leaving the town, I stopped to see Lana Turner's childhood home (an overgrown shack now, basically). I then decided to venture north of Wallace up Burke Canyon, which was a major mining site between the 19th-20th centuries. After about a 30 minute drive up the canyon, you hit the ghost town of Burke, also sandwiched between two steep mountainsides. There are massive buildings there from its mining days, all of which are now crumbling. It's a very ominous place with a bizarre history. You couldn't pay me to go there at night.