Some Fun with the Giant Spring

Settlers Were Scarce and Homes Scarcer in Great Falls in the Year 1886. By Martha Edgerton Rolfe Plassmann.

Great Falls is undoubtedly the only city in Montana which originated in a well-matured plan and not from accident. It sprang into being at the behest of one man and its growth was expedited by a loyal corps of fellow workers. They were pitifully few, the pioneers of Great Falls, probably not more than 50 in all. These differed radically on questions of politics & religion; and the relative merits of St. Paul and Minneapolis; but they were a unit so far as the embryo city was concerned, and they labored early and late for its advancement.

The site was ideal—every one admitted that; but it was not more so than that of many other towns in our state. More than scenic attractions were required to build a large city. It was necessary to impress the world at large that this particular spot constituted the natural center of vast resources which sooner or later would be tributary to it.

In a former article, I have told how the paper city was advertised by its devoted adherents, it falling to me to steer the romance. The country at large was not then so thoroughly Babbitized that romance, not restricted to sex, had no place in it.

Celebrates Wedding Anniversary. It was in 1886 the incident I am about to narrate occurred. It is personal in character and only permissible because it was amusing. The young people living here at the time, having learned that the 8th of August was Mr. Rolfe’s and my 10th wedding anniversary, asked us to celebrate the occasion by giving a house party. None had ever been given here, for the very good reason no shack but ours was large enough to entertain even a small company.

We readily consented to this proposal and at once volunteers began to lay a dancing floor and to make other preparations for the coming event, while keeping an eye on the weather, trusting it would be fair. Then it happened. It was announced that the only tinsmith in town, and whose take it was to prepare the appropriate presents was not fully recovered from his late oblations to Bacchus. Would we postpone the party until he sobered up? We certain would, and did.

Nevertheless the day must be celebrated in some manner. We decided to drive to the Great spring, where our rare social gatherings were held. This being before the appearance of automobiles, time was required to get there in a cart drawn by a slow, but perfectly safe horse.

It was about noon we arrived, to find the others were there before us. Charles Webster, then editor of The tribune, and Del Chowen had their lunch laid out, and were nearly ready to fall to when they paused to welcome us to share their meal. This we declined, having come not to picnic but to have another view of the spring.

That summer, Herbert Chowen, we were informed, with his characteristic love of the beautiful, had set out on the island some coleus; castor oil beans and other decorative plants. We stopped momentarily to examine them and then went out to the end of the board walk where the spring discharges its waters into the Missouri.

Find Beer in Spring. Close to the walk I spied a couple of bottles of beer placed there to cool. I picked them up and holding them aloft, called the attention of the young men to the lucky find. At once there were loud cries of “Put them back! Put them back!” in tones that admitted of no argument; so put them back I did. This, remember, was long before prohibition was the law of the land.

This preface, although long drawn out, like those of Bernard Shaw’s was necessary in order to understand the sequel.

Two or three weeks after our visit to the spring, my cousin, Starr Carter, handed me a paper and with a merry twinkle in her eyes, said “Read that!”

I needed no second command to do so. Opening our only paper, The Weekly Tribune, I found a scholarly article on the Giant spring by one of our scientists—Fred Anderson. It opened with a verse from my poem, already published in these columns, and then proceeded to describe the spring; its algae and cress, the native variety found there before the introduction of the familiar kind. He then stated that in his opinion, the spring was the outlet of a subterranean stream, either a branch of Belt creek or of the Missouri. This view to my knowledge had never before been made public. It was a fine article; the best that has ever been written about the spring. I, under ordinary circumstances, would simply have laid it aside for future reference, had my eye not met a sentence I interpreted as a challenge.

The verses on the spring, as I have previously explained, were published anonymously. Fred commented on this, and called attention to the line “Crystal clear its unknown depths are,” and proceeded to prove this an inaccuracy, as with a line and two-foot rule, the depth could easily be ascertained, although the author, he said, evidently id not know this.

Well, it is true, I didn’t. But it furnished inspiration, and I could not leaver it unanswered. Supplied with pencil and plenty of scrap paper, I sought a quiet spot suitable for concentration. This I found, if I am not mistaken, in the back yard at the wood pile, just at sunset when, if ever, one is likely to be in a poetic mood, and evolved the following under the heading as given by the Tribune.

“The Source of the Spring. The latest theory founded upon recent important discoveries. The Tribune’s late scientific article again excites the poetic muse of ‘M.’

A farewell poetic infliction.”

With plummet and line I have sounded the pool,
I’ve measured its depth with a two-foot rule,
And proved, though I long have suspected the fact,
My muse on occasion might not be exact.

Still seeking for knowledge I crossed to the isle
And thence to the platform to dream for a while.
Surrounded by foam-crested wavelets that sung
Of caverns long traversed, and hills whence they spring.

While musing, I tested the excellent greens,
Admired the mint, and the castor oil beans,
The clusters of coleus scattered around.

The riff in the rocks I examined with care
When to my great wonder I chanced to find there
What to men of science may seem very queer,
Side by side snuggly hidden, two bottles of beer.

The inscription they bore showed plainly to me
The source of this underground river to be
Not in the Belt mountains, but much farther east,
At the outermost bounds of Wisconsin at least.

And what to a scientist seems stranger still,
The remarkable river must flow up hill,
For hundreds of miles, to being to us here
These stranded brown bottles of Milwaukee beer.

When completed, the lines were sent to our sole newspaper, where the title “True Source of the Spring naturally attracted the attention of the editor, promising as it did, the presentation in verse of some original idea regarding its origin, or the restatement of Anderson’s article in another form.

The office force of The Tribune was not large in those days, and all of its members gathered around Mr. Webster, to hear him read the contribution aloud.

He had not read far, before he exclaimed with a hearty laugh, “Now I know who wrote ‘The Spring,’ mentioning my name, and then went on with the reading. As it’s conclusion, Fred Anderson, who was standing near, moved by the literalness of the true scientist, and with a worried look on his honest face, questioned “But does she believe it?” [sec. 2, p. 1] [Great Falled Tribune Daily 14 Apr 1929]

The Travelling River Press Correspondent in Territorial Montana

By Ken Robison

In this era of the internet and day round television news, it is hard to imagine the life and times of correspondents for newspapers 125 years ago. News in those days travelled by word of mouth and in the pages of the local newspaper such as the Fort Benton River Press. No better illustration of this contrast can be found than the activities of Ed C. Garrett, correspondent for The River Press, during an extended trip he made in 1889 to the western end of [then] Choteau County. Garrett’s mission was to sell subscriptions to the Daily and Weekly River Press and to report the latest news and developments in the western perimeter of Montana’s largest county stretching from the eastern front of the Rockies to the Little Rocky Mountains.

Leaving Fort Benton the 19th of October, 1889, in a carriage drawn by the River Press’ spirited horse Bucephalus, Ed Garrett embarked on his trip to the upper Teton and Piegan districts “in search of the golden fleece of subscriptions to the River Press and Stockman [newspaper, also published by The River Press]. Garrett relates his adventure:

“Following in the ancient route of Broadwater’s bull teams for about 8 miles, we (your correspondent and the cayuse), then switched to the right. We soon passed through several prairie dog towns, the inhabitants of which, being asked to subscribe, all disappeared into their holes. This struck us as rather an evil omen, and after ten miles more of nothing but bunch grass, we reached the state of mind of the young lady in the poem:
The melancholy days have come,
The saddest of the year,
When the young maiden’s fancy
Turns to thought of l—g—r b—r.

“At this juncture we overtook a magic lantern man on his way to Choteau and Dupuyer to give exhibitions to the people of those parts. After ascertaining that he had no slides in his box containing Montana election returns as they appeared on the Journal transparency in Helena the night after election we gladly made up with him. We soon learned that he was a genial soul (he will be down to have some posters printed in a few days) and knew the governors of both North and South Carolina. So we compared notes and discussed the government irrigation problem. We found that the cayuse made better time by following directly in the wake of the magic lantern wagon.

“Thus jogging along we soon reached Capt. Nelse’s place [pioneer Nelson Velleaux] on the lower Teton, but the captain with three or four of his neighbors had gone to Benton to make final proof on their lands. This was especially unfortunate as we had intended giving a brief sketch of the captain’s life to the readers of the River Press.

“The hay, potato and berry crops along the Teton are immense, but by reason of the dry season the oat crop is about 2/3 that of last year. Mr. McBriarty has put up 250 tons of hay near the crossing of the Teton, for the winter feeding of his 5,000 sheep. We saw Mrs. Grandchamps going home with a wagon box full of berries. The bushes were literally weighted down with them, and it would be a pleasant and profitable undertaking for those in Benton who like jelly to organize a berrying expedition, providing this Indian summer weather lasts.

“We stopped over night at Trannum’s. Mr. Trannum regaled us with reminiscences of the early days in California, he having gone there in ’50. He is now engaged in cattle raising and ranching and for current news reads the River Press.

“On the Teton between Tannum’s and Choteau, are located the sheep ranches of Wm. Zimmerman, Chas. Bannatyne, Gobbins & Hefferman, and A. B. McDonald, and the home ranches of the North Montana Cattle Co., and the Sands Land & Cattle Co. The stock along the Teton seemed to be in good condition, though we saw but few range cattle, as they are drifting further north.

“On the evening of the second day, in the soft mellow light of the setting sun, we arrived in sight of the town of Choteau and the beautiful valley of the Teton. The valley here expands to a width of three miles and is well settled with thrifty ranchmen and stockmen to the base of the mountains, a distance of twenty-five miles. Still there is room for more. The river is spanned by an iron bridge 110 feet long, built last summer. On reaching Choteau we found the principal topic of discussion to be whether a new steady clock like that on the Benton court house should be put on the belfry of the school house or whether it would be better to buy a real enterprising clock.

“Dr. J. E. Walmsley, acting coroner, with a jury composed of A. E. Paisley, James Brown, Chas. Depage, Wm. Hagan, Chas. Drift and James Hanay returned to Choteau Tuesday evening from Pen d’Oreille coulee where they held an inquest on the body of a dead man found by the round-up last week. The place is about 55 miles from Choteau and on the road leading from the main Fort Conrad and Benton road to John Zimmerman’s place. The jury’s verdict was “Death from unknown causes.” There were no marks of violence. The man’s name is supposed to be Fred Bergman, as a check on the First National Bank of Fort Benton for $157.60 dated August 13, payable to Fred Bergman or bearer, signed by A. B. McDonald, was found in his pocket. It is thought he got lost in the smoky weather several weeks ago and perished from exhaustion. A cloth overcoat fur lined, a pair of blankets and some tobacco were found a half a mile from the body. The man had on dark grey trousers, a sack coat and vest of dark blue cloth, considerably worn. The body was buried where found. The man is not known at Choteau. [Signed] Pilgrim.”

From Choteau, Ed Garrett moved on to Piegan and the Blackfoot Agency with stops enroute at Bynum, Dupuyer, and Robarre. As he has done throughout his trip, Garrett reports on the people, economy, range conditions, and events with an emphasis on what is new on the ranches and in the towns. Garrett’s narrative continues:

“The first stopping place on the road from Choteau to Piegan is Bynum, 14 miles out, on Muddy creek, a stream which sets a good example to some people we know by occasionally drying up. Geo. A. Fry keeps a general store here and carries a good stock. A. L. Collins is landlord of the hotel. Grant Graves is presiding genius of the “Shepherd’s Joy,” a resort for the children of Pan from twenty miles around. Here they meet to discuss social and philosophical problems. The herders generally believe in a future state of sheep ranching where herding, dipping and shearing will be unnecessary.

“The sheep ranches of O. G. Cooper & Martin, S. F. Ralston, Jr., Bynum Bros., C. W. Cooper, A. J. Cowell and Clark Bros. are located in this vicinity. The Clark ranch is doubtless the model sheep ranch of Montana. Beginning in July, 1884, with 2,600 ewes and 700 lambs and buying 1,000 ewes the next year, after selling 3,600 wethers and killing mutton for ranch use, the firm has now 20,000 sheep, of which 10,000 are breeding ewes. Their wool clip this year was 97,000 pounds and the increase 6,751 lambs. In five different bunches the percentage of increase—marked—and all strong, healthy lambs was as follows: 95, 97, 101, 103, 106. The 05 per cent was in the band of yearling ewes. This is considered unprecedented in western sheep farming, and the result was only obtained by the closest care and attention. During the lambing season canvas tents are distributed over the range for the protection of the lambs, and at night a herder is always on duty. The latter has been found a most profitable expense. The firm has just had shipped 100 thoroughbred Shropshire, Leicester and Oxford Down bucks which will be bred with the finest Merino ewes to increase length of staple and size of sheep. All ewe bunches have been graded and bucks are put in accordingly to produce a uniform clip. The sheep are divided into eight bands and are all carefully and systematically attended to; are treated to salt once a week in winter and in summer to salt and sulphur. All improvements are of the most substantial character and all the ranch work is done with the utmost system. Eight sheds 60x170 feet, well ventilated with a capacity of 4,000 sheep each—although not over 3,000 are usually driven in—are located on the different streams. At the home ranch, besides dwelling house and sheds, are carpenter and blacksmith shops, machinery hall, bunk houses, store houses, granary and stables. The firm raise their own grain and have 1,500 tons of hay in stack on the ranch. There is nine miles of ditching and fifteen miles of fencing. A pile driver contrivance—the invention of Mr. B. Percy Clark—is used to drive fence posts. It is fixed to the hind end of a wagon and, besides the team to pull the wagon, requires three men and a horse to work it. It will set 200 post firmly in ordinary ground in a day.

“A telephone line twenty-one miles long, with seven stations connects the home ranch with outlying ranches. This will prove a great convenience, and during winter storm and blizzards the owners will be saved many anxious moments and hard rides.

“C. W. Cooper has built a new shed on his ranch and will run two bands of sheep this winter.

“Twenty miles north of Bynum is the town of Dupuyer, the center of a large extent of pastoral country. In this neighborhood on Dry Fork, Dupuyer, Sheep and Birch creeks over 50,000 sheep grazed during the summer.

“J. F. Burd has a cash store here and is building up a good trade.

“B. R. Fowler is the village blacksmith, A. Grillenberger furnishes three meals a day, nice and hot, and Geo. McGill dispenses Kentucky elixir to a thirsty public. Dr. H. A. Gillette heals the sick.

“In the vicinity are the sheep ranches of S. C. Burd, Wm. Smiley, E. E. Leech, C. R. Scoffin, L. T. Hagere, Davis & Jones, McCuaig & Gearing, Gensman & Jones and John Zimmerman. All these parties have good sheds and other improvements and plenty of hay.

“The best improvement, however, that was noticed was the large number of young sheep men who have changed their lonely state of two or three years ago by taking a wife. Does not the cabin look brighter, boys, and the grub taste better? We don’t see how those old fogies up the creek can get along any more. If they can’t catch on why don’t they try the River Press commission agency?

“ The magic lantern man gave an exhibition at Dupuyer. The boys had filled his coal oil lamp half full of water, but the practical joke was not a howling success. Several northern whiskey smugglers were among the audience and when “Washington praying at Valley Forge” appeared one of them asked: ‘Is that a British subject?’ the next subject happened to be the execution of Andre and some one called out ‘there’s your British subject.’ As there were a number of pole haulers present the manager did not think it safe to show ‘Kiel killing Capt. Scott at Fort Gray.’

“We met Mr. S. L. Potter, deputy sheep inspector, here. Sam knows an acarus scabiei when he sees it.

“The mines of Dupuyer and Birch creek coal companies, eighteen miles from here, produce a very good quality of coal, a considerable quantity of which is sold at Fort Benton and Choteau.

“Robarre is the jumping off place at the crossing of Birch creek, eight miles north of Dupuyer. Kipp & Co. have a store and hotel conducted by Geo. Edwards. Thomas & Magee are the proprietors of the saloon. Birch creek is the dividing line between civilization and the Indian reservation and he who crosses here leaves Hostetter’s bitters behind. On the reservation side near here are the ranches of John Wren and James Fisher, formerly of Choteau. They have an excellent location for either sheep or cattle.

“Charley Chouquette, an old timer well known in Fort Benton, also resides on the reservation. At the time the Dearborn county scheme the new county should be named ‘Choquette’ or ‘Dearborn,’ but as the bill didn’t pass Mr. Choquette doesn’t worry.

“On this side of the creek Frank D. Cooper has lately purchased several ranches and is making extensive improvements in the way of sheds, corrals and fencing. In connection with Robert C. Cramer he will run a large band of sheep here this winter. By the way it is also rumored that Bob also has aspirations for a better life and will soon lead to the altar an accomplished young lady of Bynum.

“T. E. Williamson, of Choteau, and Walter Adams, also have sheep ranches on Birch creek.

“We met here Baron Max Grutthus, of Russia, on his way to St. Mary’s lake with Guide Schultz, for a five weeks hunt. The baron is an exile for five years on account of a few hasty words spoken at a students’ meeting. Who wouldn’t be an exile to Montana. Under the lamb-like climatic influences he would soon forget like the lotus eaters, that there is any other county in existence.

“Near the mountains between Teton and Birch creeks on the numerous streams are located many settlers with small herds of cattle and horses; and it is a pleasant surprise after a lone ride of 25 or 30 miles over the prairie to come to one of the cabin homes, rough looking, perhaps, on the exterior, but within full of grace, comfort and hospitality. The refining influence of woman has come up the coulees and is going over into the utter mountains. Spruce up, boys, and look pleasant.

“On upper Sheep creek we found Chas D. Labreche and family, who had just arrived from the Dearborn. They are living in tents for the present, but as Mr. Labreche has ten children he will soon, with their assistance, have a good big log house knocked up. He has a herd of 300 head of cattle grazing here and has good feed and shelter. He has also started a store.

“The settlers along the mountains are very desirous of getting a weekly mail service from Choteau by Clark’s ranch as they have to go from ten to twenty miles for their mail at present. A school is also needed.

“We met here Daniel Boone, a descendant of the original Daniel Boone, and like him, a thorough hunter, trapper and frontiersman. Mr. Boone has lived in the mountains of Montana for twenty years. He is expert in making buckskin gloves, tanning the skins himself.

“On the upper Dry Fork of the Marias we were hospitably entertained by Mr. and Mrs. Buskirk.

“During our twelve years sojourn in Montana we have eaten no bread as good as that baked from Montana flour by Mrs. J. L. Collins of the upper Muddy.

“The settlers of three townships along the mountains are very anxious to have their lands surveyed and the plats placed on record in the land office so they can make their filings. Some of them have lived on their squatter pre-emption claims over five years, and by reason of the land not being surveyed they could not prove up and take homestead claims which they had in view. Two of these townships were surveyed in 1886, but through some error the survey was not approved. It would be a great relief to the settlers and of great benefit to the government if the surveyor general could survey these lands immediately, as many entries would be perfected at once. If, however, they are left unsurveyed for a year or two longer contests and litigation are sure to arise among the settlers.

“There is only one thing your correspondent regrets so far on his journey. We took on a travelling companion at Dupuyer who wagered that he would get a cash subscription for the River Press if we would represent ourselves at the next house as the new chaplain en route to the Blackfoot agency. This was an opportunity not to be lost, so we made the bet. On arriving we were duly introduced to the lady of the house, who certainly demonstrated that she had had some religious training, for after a few moments conversation she went into the yard and wrung the necks of several chickens. We heard her say in the kitchen, ‘Mary hurry up dinner ther’s a preacher here!’ At dinner came the ordeal of saying grace. We especially prayed for the sheepmen, and managed fairly well. After dinner the conversation ran to Indian and foreign missions, hardshell and softshell Baptists foreordination, etc. It was torture, and as soon as we decently could we folded our tents and stole away. The hear-earned subscription is enclosed. [Signed] Pilgrim.”

Arriving at the Blackfoot Agency, Garrett continued his travelogue, emphasizing: “The Indians Becoming Civilized—School Facilities—The Indian Police—A Mild Winter Predicted—Rich quartz Discoveries, Etc. [Editor’s Note: Remember the terms in this report, written in the 19th century, may not be politically correct in 2010]

“Piegan, or Blackfoot agency, lies in the northwestern part of Choteau county, 125 miles from Benton on the right bank of Badger creek. The present agent is Major J. B. Catlin of Missoula, under whose management affairs are in a flourishing condition. W. J. Livingston is chief clerk, and J. P. Wagner is issue clerk.

“The reservation contains 1,760,000 acres. It is one of the best portions of Montana. The Indians, Blackfeet, Bloods and Piegans, belonging to the agency number about 2,000. Many of them live in comfortable log houses while others prefer the aboriginal tepee. A few farm on a small scale, but no general agricultural fever will ever break out among them. They have put up about 200 tons of hay for the winter use of their stock. P. Catlin, Henry Kennerly and Chas. Aubrey instruct the Indians in farming.

“For a period of ten years from 1888 the annual appropriation for the benefit of these Indians is $150,000. This money is to be used in the purchase of supplies, wagons, farming implements, horses and cattle and in building and maintaining schools and other institutions for their education and civilization.

“Two hundred brood mares and ten stallions were brought here last summer, also a large number of wagons and farming implements. Thirty Indians with as many wagons are now engaged in freighting supplies from Benton, for which they receive $1.25 per cwt. in cash. For other labor done for the government they receive $1 to $1.50 per day in tickets exchangeable for supplies from the government stores. Chief White Calf and other big and little Indians bask in contentment on a weekly ration of four pounds of beef and five pounds of flour, which is paid every Saturday. The sick and infirm receive an extra issue every Wednesday. About twenty good Montana beef steers are killed weekly to provide the sinews of peace. One thing, however, White Calf does not like; that is the presence at the agency of the colored troops, where a few occasionally come as escort to some officer or other military duty. The old chief thus draws the color line; “I don’t want them here. Let them go back to the place where they grew and turned black. My people are dark enough for me and I want to see them turn whiter.” He is afraid the color is catching.

“The agency boarding school is in charge of A. B. Coe principal, with the following assistants: Miss Cora M. Ross, teacher; Miss Isabella Clark, matron; Mrs. Belle Coe cook; Miss Kitty Kennedy, laundress; Miss Mary E. Pelky, seamstress. The attendance now is 21 boys and 12 girls, besides 15 day scholars. The children are bright and learn readily. Besides their studies the boys milk 15 cows and cultivate a garden the proceeds of which, beyond the consumption of the school, are devoted to buying extras from the government supplies. The girls are taught to work and sew. The accommodations for the pupils are rather limited, but the government will soon let a contract for the building of a large two story brick school house.

“The Catholics have also in course of construction a large frame building on Two Medicine creek, four miles from the agency, for which Miss Drexel, of Philadelphia, donated the funds--$17,000. This school will be known as the Piegan Indian Mission. It will be for full blood Indian children only, and the intention is to make it an industrial school like that at Carlisle, Pa. N. Monshausen is the architect, Joe Kipp contractor, I. A. Skinner, of Helena, has charge of the carpenter work and James Manix, of Sun River has charge of masonry and plastering. The main building is two stories high, 30x120 feet; wall of 6 inch studding and double boarded, filled in with concrete and lath and plastered. A main wall through the center divides the boys department from that of the girls. In each department on first floor are two school rooms, two play rooms and a parlor. The upstairs consists of dormitories, a chapel and nuns’ work room. A one story wing 30x115 feet is for kitchen, dining room and boys and girls infirmaries. Provision is also made for a bakery, laundry and wash rooms. The building will probably be completed by January first next. The workshops and priest’s residence will be built next year. A chapel 26x50 feet has already been built. With these two school houses completed the educational facilities will certainly be ample.

“The uniformed Indian police are quite a feature of the agency. They are twenty-four in number and are selected from the best men in the tribe. They are very prompt in enforcing the reservation laws and arresting their offending brethren. Chiefs White Calf, Big Nose and Tearing Lodge constitute a police tribunal to try misdemeanors committed on the reservation. Thirty days on the wood pile is generally the fate of the Indian caught drunk or with liquor in his possession. The guard house was empty on the day of our arrival, but we were informed that seven or eight bucks were sometimes in confinement. Despite all precautions some of the Indians manage to get hold of the fiery fluid occasionally. The liquor when taken from them is spilt by one of the policemen ceremoniously breaking the bottle on the agency flag staff al a crusader. It is said that a poor old squaw going by the flag staff shortly after one of these ceremonies picked up one of the glass fragments and sorrowfully licked it, thinking no doubt the while of Ingersoll’s rhapsody on sending a barrel of 18-year old to his friend.

“The Indians expect a mild winter. In this view they are sustained by several white men whom your correspondent met. Hugh Monroe, an old timer 105 years of age—of whom I may have occasion to write again—says that before a hard winter his rheumatism troubles him greatly; he has no twinges to speak of this year. Old man Ellis has observed that a hard winter follows a heavy equinoctial storm and vice versa. B. D. Labreche, of upper Sheep creek has noticed that the hair of cattle and horses, by a kindly provision of nature, is generally very long and wavy before a hard winter. It was so in 1880. This year the hair is short. Chad. Cartwright says that the bark of his dog is not any thicker than usual on the north side this fall. This is an infallible sign.

“Piegan is the home of Joe Kipp, the noted scout and guide. He has a general merchandise store here and has a good trade. R. L. McGonigal is in charge of the store.

“John Eldridge conducts the hotel. He has a good run of custom and provides the best beef steak in all Montana.

“The agency has no physician at present. The Indians look wise and say since the last doctor left nobody has died; but then they are prejudiced against white medicine men. Lately some rich quartz has been found in the main range of the Rockies directly west of here and in the opinion of old timers there will be several good mining camps before long. Of course prospecting and mining are forbidden on the reservation but the prospector and miner “get there just the same.”

“Coal is used at the agency from a vein on Two Medicine creek. [Signed] Pilgrim “

Garrett wrapped up his trip, returning to Fort Benton on November 13th. The trip home was an adventure in itself. Coming down the Teton on the afternoon of the 12th, Garrett was caught in a driving snowstorm. He was looking for the Hefferman Sheep Ranch, but missed the road that led to it. Luckily he met Mr. Hefferman on the road from Benton. Hefferman took the lead to drive to his ranch but in the blinding snowstorm got off the track himself. They finally ran across Hefferman’s herder and found their way to the ranch. After spending the night at the ranch, Garrett drove the 36 miles to Fort Benton the next morning. After resting a few days, Ed Garrett, the roving correspondent for The River Press, departed for another extended trip through the eastern side of Choteau County—but that is another story.
[Sources: FBRPW 30 Oct, 6 Nov, 20 Nov 1889]

A Woman’s Perspective of Life on the Frontier: The Fort Benton Years of Martha Edgerton Rolfe--Part III An Adventure Down the Missouri River.

By Ken Robison

This continues the series of frontier historical sketches by historians at the Joel F. Overholser Historical Research Center in Fort Benton.

Mrs. Martha Edgerton Rolfe, daughter of Montana’s first territorial Governor Sidney Edgerton and wife of adventurous Herbert Percy or H. P. Rolfe, left a remarkable account about life in Fort Benton in its transition years from lawless frontier town of the early 1870s to more peaceful transportation hub at the head of navigation on the Missouri River by the end of that decade. In Part I, published in the October 1, 2008, River Press, Martha Rolfe or Mattie, as her family called her, wrote about the hazardous winter trip the Rolfes made by stage from Helena to Fort Benton arriving in December 1879.

In Part II, published in the October 14, 2009, River Press, Mattie talked about her early years in frontier Fort Benton during 1880, the social scene, the military post, the passing of the Blackfeet through town after their last trip to the Judith, and the many activities of her husband Herbert P. Rolfe.

This Part III continues Martha Edgerton Rolfe’s story in 1881 as she embarks on an adventure on the steamboat Far West going down the Missouri River to visit her family in Ohio. Martha wrote [with my additions in brackets]:

After five years in Montana, I decided to spend the summer of 1881 at the home of my parents in Akron, Ohio, taking with me my two little girls, the oldest not quite four [Mary Pauline, age three and a half; and Harriet Louise, age one and a half]. Had my home been elsewhere than at Fort Benton, in order to reach the railroad, a long stage journey, with its attendant discomforts, would have been necessary.

Navigation of the upper Missouri had not then been abandoned and every season saw many steamboats tied to the levee at Fort Benton, where, in fur trading days, mackinaws and keel boats came and went, fetching supplies and bearing to St. Louis their loads of furs and dried buffalo tongues, that much prized delicacy.

Only during the brief period of high water could steamboats ascend so far. For this reason there were many applications for passage down river on the first boat that should arrive and which one that would be was always problematical. In 1881 the Far West, the most famous boat on the river, led the rest of the fleet and on it I obtained passage to Bismarck, hoping by doing so to prolong my visit east by a few days.

During the tragic year of 1876, this boat did valiant service for the government. Commandeered by General [Philip H.] Sheridan, it left Yankton about the middle of May to carry government supplies to Fort [Abraham] Lincoln, which it reached May 27th, with Captain [Grant] Marsh as both Captain and pilot, although Dave Campbell also acted in the latter capacity.

At Fort Lincoln, Mrs. Custer and other army ladies came on the boat,
took tea, and Mrs. Custer asked to be a passenger up the Yellowstone, where Captain Marsh was next ordered. Fearful of what his duties there might be, Captain Marsh would not consent, giving some plausible excuse. It was fortunate, considering what took place later. Taking on officers and soldiers, together with supplies for the cavalry, he steamed up the Yellowstone. General [Alfred H.] Terry ordered him to the mouth of Powder river, which he reached the first week in June [1876]. He then went to Tongue river.

Throughout that season, the Far West made a number of trips up and down the two rivers, serving as a dispatch boat, ferry, transport, gunboat, patrol boat and finally to become a hospital boat. After the battle of the Little Big Horn, it was ordered to the mouth of that river. For 53 miles it ascended the Yellowstone, cautiously nosing its way between the many islands and passing beyond the Little Big Horn under command of Colonel Baker and contrary to the judgment of Captain Marsh.

Returning to the mouth of the Little Big Horn, preparations were made for the reception of the wounded. Soft grass was laid on the lower deck and covered with canvas. This hastily improvised bed must have seemed luxurious to those who had been jolted over the long road from the battlefield and on it the wounded were transported down the Missouri [an amazing feat covering 700 miles in just 54 hours to Fort Abraham Lincoln].

Of all this history I was woefully ignorant at the time I engaged a cabin on the gallant little boat and for many years afterward. It was because of her being of light draft and easy management that Captain [Grant] Marsh chose her instead of the Josephine for that summer’s arduous work. There were accommodations for but few passengers and, unlike most river steamboats there as no ‘Texas’ on the upper deck.

Hardly was I full established on board and ready for the journey when the mule drawn ambulance from Fort Assinniboine drew up at the levee to discharge officers and their families, who had also engaged passage on the Far West. Among those were Colonel [Lt. Col. William H.] Brown, 18th Infantry Regiment and commander of the post, and his wife and son; Captain Cass Durham and family, and Major [William] Arthur, brother of President [Chester] Arthur, who was then paymaster. [Lt. Col. Brown recently promoted and relieve from duty at Fort Assinniboine, was proceeding with his family to his regiment in Texas.] Those, like myself, chose to journey on the first boat down the river to prolong their stay in the east.

But which would be the first boat? The Far West apparently had no further reason for postponing her departure, yet she lingered in an unaccountable manner.

Presently the Helena arrived, drew up alongside of the Far West, landed her freight and took on passengers while we watched, wondering why our boat was tarrying. The others wondered; I simply though the captain knew his business.

I overheard one of the army contingent inquire, ‘I wonder if we are to take one of those Indians?’ ‘What Indian?’ said I. ‘Why Sitting Bull’s band that is to be sent to Standing Rock agency. Had you not heard?’ When this conversation took place we were out of sight of Fort Benton, well on our way down the river, with the Helena a close companion by day and when we tied up to the shore at night. The army folk worried. I heard them talking about the situation. By special favor due to my army connections, I was admitted into their circle. [Martha’s brother Wright Edgerton was an Army Colonel.] Evidence of my singular good fortune appeared at the table, where my seat was next to a captain’s wife.

At that time the government gave large contracts to the river craft for carrying supplies to posts along the way and for those further inland in the Dakotas and Montana, where railroads had not yet penetrated. It naturally followed that the army received first consideration from those in command of the boats and there were rules of etiquette, as on ocean steamers, regarding the precedence to be accorded passengers, with army officers always given first place.

The trip would have been delightful but for the growing fear that our boat was to be one of those to take the Indians to Standing Rock. The weather favored us and the season was not far enough advanced for mosquitoes and buffalo gnats to be troublesome. From early morning until late at night we sped down the river, tying up at the bank generally at a woodyard, when it became unsafe to travel because of the difficulty of determining the channel and danger of sand bars and snags.

In the deepening twilight, the passengers sat on deck idly watching while the roustabouts went and came over the plank extending to the shore, fetching in wood or going for more, their work hastened by the reiterated commands of the mate watching them from the deck.

Now and then during the day a visit was made by an occasional passenger to the lofty pilot house from which a magnificent view could be obtained of the country for a long distance east and west, cleft by the sparkling Missouri. One could converse with the pilot, but his replies were given with his eyes straight ahead, noting every peculiarity in the treacherous current.

We passed the mouths of the Judith, Musselshell and Milk rivers, streams still bearing names given them by Lewis and Clark. In all that long distance where twenty years earlier herds of buffaloes crossing the river often impeded the progress of the boats, now but one was seen.
This, an ancient bull, wandered to the sheltering willows close to the water and became the target for every gun on board. When killed, the boat drew alongside, where, with the aid of a donkey engine, the crew hauled it aboard, to the consternation of at least one of the army ladies, who anxiously inquired, ‘Do you think they are going to feed us on that?’

The sight of it certainly was not appetizing. For days afterward, whenever meat appeared at the table, the woman referred to would ask the waiters, who well understood her squeamishness, ‘What kind of meat is that?’ With a broad grin, displayed a faultless set of teeth, the reply was always the same ‘Buffalo steak, ma’am.’ That woman became a vegetarian for the rest of the journey.

One afternoon, when several of the civilian women, myself among the number, were seated at the front of the boat, we caught sight of a large river on our right that stretched like a shining ribbon through the brown plains. What made the scene more impressive was that down it a steamboat was hurrying, omitting a long trail of smoke that shone white under the intense rays of the sun.

An army woman stood behind me, her hand on my shoulder as she exclaimed, ‘See there! See that boat! It is coming to join us. That makes it sure we are to take those Indians.’ Then her thoughts and speech took another direction. ‘I wonder if there are any nice people on that boat,’ she reflectively remarked; and then, lest she be misunderstood added, ‘any army people.’

This was too much for the civilians, one of whom retorted, ‘Mrs. ____ I wish you distinctly to understand that all the nice people are not confined to the army.’

Her prophecy regarding the Indians proved correct, as we learned a little later at Fort Buford, when the three boats, the Helena, Far West and the new arrival from the Yellowstone, whose name I have forgotten drew up side by side at the landing place. [This steamer was the General Terry.]

Shortly afterward officers of the fort came down to call on their brother officers on our boat. What they had to say did not tend to calm the fears of the already alarmed army people. That the rest of us feared less may be attributed to our ignorance.

Every effort was made to have the officers’ wives and children remain over until the next boat and stay at the fort, but the rest of us had no such invitation. Whether there were not sufficient accommodations for all of the women and children at the fort or it was thought civilians would be in less danger, I cannot say. However, after thoroughly debating the question, our officers decided to run the risk of a possible uprising of the Indians, rather than lose a few days in the east.

That night the Sioux held a dance and had a dog feast. Many of our passengers attended, and were treated in a friendly manner by the Indians. The squaws especially admired a little white girl, with long golden curls. They stroked her hair, as they smilingly uttered exclamations of delight. At least, so her mother interpreted the ejaculations given in a language she did not understand.

Next morning the exodus began. From the fort came wagons loaded with provisions for the exiles. Of what these consisted, I do not know, aside from hundreds of loaves of bread. As the teamsters bent to their task of unloading, the strong wind blowing pelted them with sand and distended their shirts until they looked like animated balloons.

Meanwhile the Indians were going down to the boats. Men, women and children, dressed in their best, crossed the landing planks to the lower deck and were stowed away like so many sardines.

A few of the chiefs were assigned to the upper deck, in deference to their prominence in the tribe. They ate and slept there. Which ones of these notables the Far West carried, I did not then have the curiosity to learn.

From the shelter of our deck, I watched them come on board. It was a sight never to be forgotten. Steadily the throng moved onward, with no disturbance in its ranks. A chance and uninformed observer might have thought they were excursionists; not a people banished from their country for which they had fought so desperately to repel the white invaders. It is now admitted they defeated Custer, retreating only when their ammunition was exhausted.

On this day of their enforced departure, the warriors, although unarmed and wearing neither war paint nor war bonnets, walked to the landing place with the bearing of conquerors. Several of them carried long pipes, the stems set with knife blades, five or six in number, and ranging in length from two to four inches. It struck me that the pipes might prove to be formidable weapons in the hands of determined men, who, from sheer force of numbers, might easily overpower the 13 soldiers assigned as drivers in each boat. It is not surprising that our army folk were apprehensive. How the 39 soldiers felt, no one ever knew.

The march to the boats was by no means a colorless affair. Blankets of every color the agencies provided for both men and women. Shirts and tunics of buckskin were adorned with bead embroidery and fringe. Here and there a woman could be seen, wearing a cape reaching below her waist, that would be worth $1,000. These capes were made of alternating rows of inch-wide dark blue cloth, its edges pinked and trimmed with the long white teeth of elk that glistened like pearls under the sun’s rays.

A few of the men had hats with a feather stuck in the side but the heads of most of them were uncovered, unless by a blanket to protect them from the stiff breeze that blew from the southwest, a summertime chinook.

While the Indians were going on board, we, who watched them from the boat, saw no soldiers. Those detailed for our protection were doubtless already there to receive their charges. The entire embarkation was conducted in an orderly manner until the last Sioux joined us. The cables were loosened and the three boats carrying Sitting Bull’s band began their journey down stream. I have heard different estimates of their number, ranging from 1,000 to 1,300. Whatever it might have been, there were enough to alarm the white passengers especially for the next 24 hours.

When we were nearing Fort Berthold, I went to the upper deck, where there were a half dozen young warriors. It was sunset, with the sky straight ahead of us glowing pink from the edge of the horizon line to the zenith. It looked as though we were steaming straight into it, following the course of the shining river.

At the front of the deck, facing down stream, the Indians stood, splendid figures of young manhood outlined against the sunset background. They were singing, apparently ignorant that they had a white audience, as they never glanced in our direction.

As they sang one and then another swung part way around, pivoting on his heels. This was not the first time I had heard Indians sing but never before did I recognize any melody. This was my introduction to Indian music, and this was music although extremely primitive.

As the braves sang, shrill boys’ voices from the lower deck took up the strain, not always in the same key. Some one who professed to know said they were singing a war song, as they were approaching an enemy’s country. It may have been a call to battle or a lament. It was all one to us who were ignorant of the Sioux language.

With the growing darkness, the song ceased. Reaching Fort Berthold, the three boats tied up side by side, although the captains had been importuned not to do so. Nor was this the worst. Planks were placed from boat to boat, over which the Indians could pass freely.

Our passengers were thoroughly frightened at the situation and the army officers, the worst. We gathered in the cabin to discuss the matter. Should we sit up all night? Everything tended to increase, rather than allay, our fears. In sheer desperation, I decided to go to my stateroom, where my children lay sleeping, unconscious of danger.

The door of my room [opened] on the deck and not on a passage. I attempted to lock it, only to find this could not be done. The lock was out of commission. All I could do under the circumstances was to barricade it by putting the washstand against it. This accomplished, I went to bed and to sleep, never awakening until morning.

As morning broke, an Indian child, in attempting to cross from one boat to another, fell into the water. Immediately a chief’s daughter plunged to its rescue. Child and maiden were drawn by the current underneath the boats and drowned. Immediately the Indians raised the death wail. This meant but one thing to the white passengers who heard it--their time had come; as they would be ruthlessly murdered. And I slept calmly through this by the side of my children, my dreams undisturbed by the commotion.

That day and the succeeding one found us reconciled to the inevitable and we came to regard the presence of the Indians as a show for our exclusive benefit. At the front of our deck, we sat hour after hour, watching what was going on below, and that was plenty. One man from Philadelphia solemnly remarked, ‘If I told the folks at home what I have seen today, they would not believe me.’ And this I could readily understand.

Unconcerned by our inspection, the Indians acted as if in their own tepees. They laughed and chattered, worked at bead embroidery, made love and ate and slept, even to the examination of one another’s heads for vermin that constituted a delicate morsel for the head of a family, but sent our fastidious army lady hastily to her stateroom ejaculating, ‘That is more than I can stand.’

As for myself, this was not my introduction to the ways of the Sioux. [That] took place 18 years earlier at Fort Laramie, when, in the summer of 1863, they gathered there to receive their annuity, and I, a girl of 13 years, with my family, had reached that point on our journey across the plains. Later we received visits from wandering members of the tribe and while passing one of their villages we were threatened with scalping if the requisite amount of ‘shug’ and ‘hog meat’ were not forthcoming. Fortunately, being in the neighborhood of a large train, we retained the provisions, and also our scalps. From this it will be readily understood that the Indian customs so shocking to others, were to me an old story.

After leaving Fort Berthold, none of us though it necessary to sit up nights awaiting an attack from the exiles, and the days, until our arrival at Bismarck, were spent in the manner I have stated.

Although we were assured soldiers were on the boat, we never saw them. Our apparent lack of anxiety arose from the realization of our condition. After leaving Fort Berthold there remained no other alternative than to accept whatever happened between there and Bismarck, where most of us took the train for our respective destinations.

All sorts of rumors were afloat about what happened later on the boat, none of which could be verified. One was that the Indians became so unruly our captain concluded it would be safer to go to Standing Rock by rail, turning over command of the Far West to his next in rank. This is not credible in view of their apparent contentment and willingness to abide by the terms of their surrender.

The rail journey was exceedingly tiresome. Father and mother met me in Cleveland. It was a great relief to me to have their assistance in the care of the children, as I was utterly exhausted. My delight at seeing them once more, was tempered on noting that they had aged and mother, especially, was not very strong.

[Sources: Memories of a Long Life by Martha Edgerton Rolfe Plassmann; Passengers on “Far West” Afforded Thrilling Experience When Sioux Tribe Is Transferred. Famous Missouri River Boar that Played So Important Part in Battle of the Little Big Horn Carries Sitting Bull’s Warriors from Ft. Buford to Standing Rock, Their Place of Banishment. By Martha Edgerton Plassmann, Montana Newspaper Association Big Timber Pioneer 7 Jul 1924; The “Far West,” Famous Missouri River Steamer--the Part it Played in Tragic Expedition Against the Sioux Indians. By Martha Edgerton Plassmann, Montana Newspaper Association, Sanders County Signal 30 Jun 1924.]

Photos:

(1) Legendary steamboat Far West.
(2) Captain Grant March, the greatest riverboat commander and pilot.
(3) Mrs. Martha Edgerton Rolfe

Move Over Shep . . . Check out the Dog-Tramp "Bum"

The Dog Tramp. “Bum,” the Traveling Tourist Registered at the Manitoba Hotel in Great Falls.

We have read many stories of the sagacity of dogs, cats and other animals, but never until yesterday were we ever brought into personal surveillance of such a freak.


A great many of our townspeople have, no doubt, heard more or less of the railroad dog, “Bum” and may be somewhat interested to know that the traveling tourist and railroad pet is in our midst.

The curious feature of this dog is that he is strongly attached to railroad men and has a perfect abhorrence for any other person. He knows a railroad man when and wherever he meets him from the humblest section man to the great magnate, Jim Hill.

He has traveled from coast to coast and is especially partial towards the Manitoba and Northern Pacific, as on these roads he makes his home.

Bum goes to a place, where he always selects a railroad house and from his intimate acquaintance with railroaders gets the best of treatment, staying until he seems to become tired of laying around and the first thing you know the gentleman of leisure is at the depot taking the first outbound passenger to scenes more enchanting.

He came to Great Falls a few days ago and is now at the Manitoba house where he makes himself perfectly at home.

There is something very remarkable about such doings among dumb animals that almost leads one to think they have calculating and reasoning powers. Be that as it may one thing is certain and that is, that “Bum” is a professional tramp and that he lives on the fat of the land.

It is expected that he may go east any day, as he has made about the usual stay in Great Falls.

The dog-tramp, “Bum” took the afternoon passenger for the east yesterday [December 23, 1889]. He just came from St. Paul over the N. P. [Source: GFLD 22 Dec 1889]

Great Falls, Montana's All-American City

Time for a little update for Fort Benton's suburb, Great Falls. My article is just out in the new issue of Destination Great Falls. Ben Chovenak does a fine job as editor and photographer.


Montana's "All American City"

Written by Ken Robison

Great Falls, at the head of five falls of the Missouri River and the confluence with the Sun River, began as “the city of wind, water, and future.” The unique setting stimulated many names over the years as Great Falls rose to acquire identify. Reflecting the falls of the Missouri, the first name for the town became “The Cataract City.” As the most prominent feature on the river, Lewis and Clark heard of the falls from the Mandan Indians during the winter of 1804-05. In the early years, every visitor was taken with pride to view the falls and the Giant Spring. Just five months after the first issue of the Great Falls Tribune, the weekly newspaper on September 12, 1885, proudly carried a long poem about the “Big Spring” and the falls by Martha Edgerton Rolfe, the first white woman to live in Great Falls:

Close beside the great Missouri,
Ere it takes its second leap,
Is a spring of sparkling water,
Like a river broad and deep.

Standing on its grassy margin,
While aloft the eagles soar,
Lazily, yet ever watchful,
One can hear the mingled roar

Of the falls of the Black Eagle
And the Rainbow swathed in mist,
Ghostly white then opalescent
Glows when by the sun-god kissed . . .


Paris Gibson was determined to found a “Minneapolis of the West,” a new industrial powerhouse modeled after Gibson’s hometown that he had seen rise from village to city in just two decades. When the first dam was built on the upper falls, Black Eagle Falls, providing hydroelectric power to new refining and smelting industries, Gibson’s newspaper, the Great Falls Tribune, declared that the new town, then just nine years old, had become “The Electric City.” The editorial read:

The Electric City. The remarkable success which has resulted to this city by the harnessing of a small portion of its vast water power, and the transmission of it to be used for various purposes by its conversion into electricity, must be a matter of serious study to a thinking man . . .

Great Falls is not only now a large user of electricity, but she will also have it for sale in the future to her sister towns in the state. When the loss by long distance transmission is overcome, we shall see our city supplying others with electricity, by means of wires and cables, cheaper by far than they can manufacture it themselves; and it also goes without saying that every new electric discovery every new invention for the adaptation of electricity to the industrial arts and sciences will only further tend to make Great Falls known as “The Electric City of Montana."


The rival newspaper, The Great Falls Leader, long carried on its masthead, “The Niagara of the West,” and other names such as the “City of the Falls” have come and gone.

So, what remains today of “The Electric City”? Coal plants in southeast and large hydroelectric plants in northwest Montana have “overpowered” the electrical production of Great Falls. Yet, the city at the falls has always been far more than power production. Paris Gibson did not found Great Falls alone. Beyond Gibson, the visionary, and the other pioneers, Great Falls has always been about the workers and their stories in all walks of life, the iron worker, the smelter worker, the railroad worker, the woman newspaper editor, the miner in the mountains, the cowboy on the range, the farmer (men and women) in the fields, the women and men blazing new paths, the troops marching off to war. Stories of the booming homestead years of the 1910s and the homestead “bust” in the early 1920s. Stories of the mothers and fathers, teachers, nurses, nuns and priests, the jazz players, the gamblers, the prostitutes, the baseball players and ice skaters.

While Great Falls has been known as “The Electric City,” it has always been more. Great Falls is the hub of regional agricultural with farming and ranching that through good years and bad provides a solid economic base. This city is a growing medical powerhouse for a large area. Great Falls has Montana’s largest military presence with the 120th Fighter Wing Montana Air National Guard at Gore Hill and the 341st (Minuteman) Missile Wing and RED HORSE Squadron at Malmstrom Air Force Base bringing a wealth of national and ethnic diversity as well as economic power to the community.

Great Falls has Montana’s greatest ethnic diversity with the largest American Indian and Black American populations in the state. The sports scene features high school and collegiate sports, national champion figure skaters, a strong hockey tradition featuring an Olympic Team captain and National Hockey League players, and baseball Hall of Famers and a team of future major leaguers. A strong cultural environment is highlighted by the renowned Charles M. Russell Museum and a Symphony that attracts the quality of internationally famed cellist Yo-Yo Ma.

Today, Great Falls has the magnificent River, the unique Falls, the Big Spring, the exceptional River’s Edge Trail, the important Portage Route National Historic Landmark, the nation’s premier Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail Interpretive Center, and an enormous economic potential from recreational and cultural tourism. With balance and diversity, at age 126 years Great Falls has gone beyond being “The Electric City” and today has emerged as “Montana’s All-American City.”

The End of the Fort Benton Chinese: The Celestial Kingdom on the Upper Missouri—Part IV

By Ken Robison

This continues the series of frontier historical sketches by historians at the Joel F. Overholser Historical Research Center in Fort Benton.

Published in 28 July and 4 August 2010 Fort Benton River Press

In one of the few positive articles on the Chinese ever to appear in the Great Falls Tribune, the January 4, 1893 edition carried this editorial:
“The Chinese have a beautiful custom which they religiously observe on New Year day--that of paying promptly every cent they owe. Perhaps the custom would be quite as beautiful for Caucasians as Chinese and a few days after New Year better than never.”

Meanwhile, the Great Northern Depot in Great Falls bore a sign that read, “Chinaman don’t let the sun set on you here.” On occasion the racist Great Falls Tribune even tried to stir up trouble for Chinese in Fort Benton. In March 1902 the Tribune was not only urging exclusion of Chinese from Great Falls but also headlining, “Chinks Must Go. Citizens of Fort Benton Will Establish a Steam Laundry and Force Them Out . . . A movement is on foot here to put in a steam laundry at an early date. Investigations which have been made by a number of business men who are heading the movement show that the Chinese laundries here take in about $1,000 per month, if anything a little over that sum. This is sufficient to make a steam laundry pay from the start, if its work is good and the charges reasonable . . . Chas. H. Green has been placed in charge of the canvas of the town, and hopes to be able to report definite results in 10 days.”

The local Fort Benton “exclusion” operation drew a headline in the River Press “To Banish The Chinese” adding that the two Chinese laundries in Benton employed 15 to 18 men at different times of the year and urged “the manifest benefit to the town from having white labor employed in place of Chinese is patent to everyone.” Apparently nothing came of this scheme for the press quietly dropped the matter, and the Chinese laundries of Fort Benton continued for many more years.

Despite the growing anti-Chinese mood in the county, life for Chinese in Choteau County went on. The first Chinese marriage to occur in the county was solemnized at Havre when Mr. Y. P. Yup, a resident of Havre, and Miss Low Dey Gum, of Portland, Oregon were married April 7, 1902, by Reverend Stringfellow in the Presbyterian Church.

Benton law enforcement and courts played a relatively even hand with the Chinese in town during this period. Cornelius Manning assaulted a waiter in a Chinese restaurant and was arrested. Judge Sullivan ordered Manning held to await the outcome of the Chinese man’s injuries since it appeared possible that Manning had fractured the man’s skull by a blow with a pitcher. In early May 1902, Marshal Sneath reacted to an altercation between the Chinese manager of Lee Hing restaurant and a white customer over the price of a meal. The customer drew a six-shooter, “giving him the best of the argument until the marshal appeared. Judge Sullivan imposed a fine of $25. Later that same day Marshal Sneath was attracted to a shack next to the Sam Lee laundry “by weird and awesome howls which indicated murder, at the least. But after forcing the door he was greeted with the bland assurance: ‘Dat all right. China boy got bellerake.’”

Ah Fong, resident of Fort Benton for almost 25 years, died in May 1902 with the River Press covering his funeral. “The funeral of Ah Fong took place this afternoon, interment being in Riverside cemetery for the present. Deceased has been a resident of this city most of the time for nearly a quarter of a century, but at one time had a restaurant at Havre. He was able to read and write English and was quite well off some years ago, owning some real estate here but during his sickness for two years past has been supported by his countrymen.”

After the turn of the century and perhaps in reaction to the increased anti-Chinese sentiment in the community, news coverage about Fort Benton’s small Chinatown and Chinese decreased in the River Press. Except for occasional arrests for registration lapses and rare incidents with the law, the Chinese became almost invisible in Fort Benton society. Even Chinese New Years passed with scant mention in the press.

In early February 1903, the River Press reported simply that Chinese New Year was being celebrated with “considerable enthusiasm by the Mongolian race. Besides witnessing their display of fireworks, all who pass their places of business are invited to partake of Chinese nuts, candy, and a cigar.”

Ung Wing, the cook at the Overland hotel was arraigned before Judge Sullivan during the afternoon of February 10, 1903, on a charge of assault with intent to kill. The case was set for 2 o’clock but J. E. Stranahan, attorney for the defendant, asked for a postponement of 24 hours to prepare the case, which was granted on the receipt of a $50 cash bond. The River Press reported, “It appears that orders (at the Overland) got mixed, which is done occasionally at the best regulated hotels, and as raw eggs and coffee cups accompanied by plates seemed to be the principal articles of the order that was mixed this morning, the cook and waiter made targets of each other with the order. The cook served the first of the order, this being a raw egg followed closely by a coffee cup, and the waiter returned a volley of cups and dishes, after which the cook took to the alley and left the order as it was. Judge Sullivan will rehash the served order tomorrow.” The feuding parties came to court the next day. Ung Wing, the defendant charged with assault, was fined $20. Luther Bain, who took the “poke” at the Chinaman, was fined $7.

Fire was a constant threat in frontier towns. Fort Benton had wisely positioned water wells along Front Street (marked now by brick circles) and consequently had few fires there. Main Street and other parts of town were not so fortunate. In March 1903, the Chinese laundry building near the sawmill at Fort Assinniboine burned down and about $1,000 worth of soldier’s laundry was destroyed.

Chinese New Year in Fort Benton in 1904 was celebrated February 17 with the usual festivities. In China the “years” number from the beginning of the reign of each emperor, and the present monarch, Quong Sue, was crowned about thirty years ago. One week later, in Havre an unidentified man was arrested for making a murderous assault upon a Chinaman. The man had been eating at a Chinese restaurant, and when asked to pay up he drew a knife and inflicted a wound on the Chinaman’s head that required surgical attention.

Lee Sing was taken into custody in late February 1904, because he could not produce his residence permit. He was taken to Helena March 2 by a deputy United States marshal to have a hearing before the federal authorities. In April eight Chinese were arrested at Fort Assinniboine because they could not produce the necessary residence papers. They were to have hearings before U. S. Commissioner McIntyre, and probably were deported.

James Soo, a Chinese patient, died of consumption in mid August 1904, at St. Clare hospital. Soo was formerly a resident of Harlem. In September 1905, fire destroyed a Chinese log cabin on the corner of St. John and Main Streets.

In a sobering report in the Great Falls Tribune in November 1905 under the headline, “Back to China to Die. ‘Many people have a mistaken idea about Chinamen,’ said Deputy United States Marshal Young, who passed through Great Falls last night, en route from Helena to Port Townsend, Wash., where he will deport one of the yellow race.

‘’The impression generally prevails that the average Chink has plenty of money, or, at least, is seldom ‘broke.’ That is a mistake. It has fallen to me to arrest scores of Chinamen, principally upon the charge of living in this country without the proper credentials, in violation of the exclusion act. I have found, in a majority of cases, that they were short of money and frequently in destitute circumstances.’

“In company with Emil Schmidt, a Helena saloonkeeper, Deputy Marshal Young was on his way to Havre, where a Chinaman named Wah Lee was arrested several days ago, charged with not having papers in his possession to show that he was entitled to remain in Uncle Sam’s domain.

“Wah Lee was on his way to the coast from Minot, N. D. Upon reaching Havre, a federal inspector ordered the almond-eyed traveler detained until such time as the case could be investigated. Lee appeared to be sick, and has since been able to sit up only at intervals.

“It is believed that Lee was taken ill at Minot and decided to return to his old home in the Flowery kingdom, probably to die. Deputy Marshal Young thinks that the Chinaman will be fortunate if he crosses the Pacific Ocean alive.”

On May 29, 1907, Jim Charlie, proprietor of the O. K. restaurant in Havre, was assaulted in his kitchen early Sunday morning by Charles Woods, a Black American, and badly beaten up. The Chinaman was rendered unconscious and Woods then rifled a trunk, stealing about $35, and made his getaway. There were two assailants, one from whom watched the dining room while the other went back into the kitchen. Woods was captured a short time later by Chief Bickle. No money could be found on him.

Lee Sing had escaped deportation in 1904, and was now a gardener, when he was arrested and required to pay a small fine for selling the ever present opium in 1907.

Across the Medicine Line in Canada, riots occurred in Lethbridge against the Chinese in December 1907. A dispatch from Lethbridge reported: “Because they believed that a prominent citizen had been murdered in a Chinese restaurant, 1,500 men raided the Oriental quarter late Christmas night and left a wreck behind.
“Restaurants and laundries were smashed; doors and windows and entire fronts of buildings were reduced to splinters.
“The regular police of the town were powerless and a brigade of mounted police had to be called out to quell the riot.
“It was just after 9 o’clock that the mob began to form.
“The story had got abroad that Harry Smith, one of the best known ranchers of the cattle district of which the city is the center, had been fatally wounded in a restaurant.
“Curiously enough, neither Smith nor anyone else had been hurt, but even the police were misled by the tale, and two Orientals were placed under arrest and charged with his murder.
“An indignant mob gathered opposite the eating house and there was talk of lynching.
“Suddenly some one threw a rock that smashed a front window. In a moment the crowd was beyond control.
“Bricks and stones were hurled and when the doors had been broken the tables and chairs and dishes inside were smashed.
“The Columbia and Alberta restaurants were literally wrecked. What could not be conveniently smashed by the few who could get inside was passed out to the street to the howling mob in waiting and there demolished.
“At 10 o’clock a detachment of the mounted police appeared and the crowd scattered. Hundreds of the rioters merely shifted the scene of the pillage. Three blocks away, opposite the Arlington hotel, they cleaned out another Chinese restaurant and mishandled two Orientals who were captured within.
“Mayor Galbraith and Magistrate Townsend both addressed the mob and urged it to disperse, and as all possible damage had been done, it obeyed.”
In late 1908 the Enterprise Restaurant was still operating under a succession of proprietors, Lee Gee in October, Lee Shone & Brother in November, and Lee Hong & Company in December.

In late January 1909, the River Press barely mention Chinese New Year saying only, “The Chinese residents of this locality are celebrating their New Year today, the festivities being of the usual kind.”

Later that year the Press reported, “ A Chinese cook, who was known by the name Charlie Kong and who has been employed by various residents of this vicinity, was found dead in his room this morning by one of his fellow countrymen. The deceased had been on the sick list the past three weeks, and death is supposed to have resulted from pneumonia.”

The old time Chinese were dying off. In December 1909, Ah Que, the Chinese who has made his home in Armington for so many years, died Tuesday night, December 7th. He was an old timer in this part of the country having lived in Fort Benton, Neihart and Armington for the last 30 years. The remains were taken to Helena by John Gray where burial will be made.

By 1910 the Chinese presence in Chouteau County had decreased to 40 with just 12 in Fort Benton, 18 in Havre, 2 in Chinook, 6 at Harlem, 1 on the lower Teton, and 1 on Eagle Creek. Dick Lee, a 49 year-old single man born in China and in the U.S. since 1876 served as cook on a ranch near Eagle Creek, probably the McMillan Ranch. Lewis Luna, a 63 year-old man born in China and in the U.S. since 1865 worked as cook on the sheep ranch where Charles Schwandt was manager.

In September 1910, the River Press headlined, “Attempted to Commit Murder. A man who gives his name as John Smith, and who has been employed in the Grand Union hotel kitchen as dishwasher, was arrested by the city marshal Sunday morning on a charge of attempting to commit murder. The prisoner is alleged to have assaulted a Chinese cook, generally known by the name of Toy, apparently without provocation. “The victim of the assault was struck several times with a cleaver, one of the blows fracturing the skull and causing a wound that may have serious results. He is under the care of a physician, and in the event of death the prisoner will face a charge of murder.”

In mid November, the jury term of the district court opened, with the first criminal case of the term being that of John Smith, the defendant charged with assault with intent to kill. The alleged assault took place in this city in September, the victim being a Chinese cook named Lee Chung.”

The trial progressed as reported in the Press, “The trial of John Smith, accused of a murderous assault upon a Chinese cook employed at the Grand Union hotel was in progress in the district court today, William Toy, of Helena, acting as interpreter during part of the testimony. The latter was to the effect that there had been no trouble between the men, and that the assault was without provocation. The defendant, in testifying on his own behalf, declared he had no knowledge of striking the Chinaman with a cleaver, his mind being a complete blank as to the incident. The case was given to the jury at a late hour this afternoon.” The jury in the case of John Smith returned a verdict of guilty, and sentence was pronounced: “John Smith, convicted of assault in the first degree, was given a sentence of eight years.” Despite the trend toward increased violent against the Chinese, they continued to receive even-handed justice in Chouteau County courts.

Chinese New Year January 1911 was ushered in at midnight by the usual firing of firecrackers, and for two days the Celestials kept open house, entertaining their friends with various kinds of Chinese delicacies.

For the first time since the passage of the bankruptcy law in 1910, a Montana Chinese took advantage of its provisions. In December 1911, Charlie Wang Luk, proprietor of the Chicago cafe at Havre, filed a petition for bankruptcy in the federal court at Helena. The Chinaman gives his liabilities at $589.50 and his assets at $1,280, the greater part of which, however, are of doubtful value.

The local Chinese residents celebrated their New Year February 1912 in the usual quaint style Saturday, this celebration probably being the last of a series that dates back hundreds of years. It has been the custom in China to regulate their calendar by the changes of the moon, making 360 days in the year, but under the new form of government recently adopted it is believed this will be changed to the Julian calendar.”

Lee Kim, a Chinaman against whom the county attorney had filed a charge of assault in the first degree, and who has been held in jail about six months, was allowed to plead guilty to assault in the third degree. In view of his long confinement in jail the court fined the defendant $150, which was paid.

In 1917 the River Press carried advertisements for The Enterprise Restaurant, which was still in business on Front Street with Quan Shol, Proprietor. Jack Lepley remembers hearing that as a boy George Veilleux and other boys “explored” the basement of this building to find a series of upper and lower bunks arranged for opium smokers in this very old opium den. Today, this is today’s the Liquor Store portion of R J’s Toggery.

In January 1919, the Great Falls Tribune reported, “Noted Bar Goes to Chinese Firm. Old Havre Saloon’s taxidermy specimens to Be Retained; Cafe Changes Hands.

“The Mint saloon building, owned by C. W. Young, has been leased until February 15, 1924, by Wong Kim, Wong Sam and William W. Lee, a firm of Chinese residents of Havre who now operate the California cafe, and they will take possession on or about February 15. It is their intention to remodel entirely the interior, but retain the present fancy decorations and famous specimens of taxidermy of which Mr. Young was always very proud. In Havre’s palmy days the Mint was considered the finest bar in the city and the new proprietors are to pay a monthly rental of $225 for the building.”

Even the new town of Geraldine had a Chinese resident. Lou Wong came to Geraldine from Lewistown to open a laundry. In November 1919, Lou Wong died in his laundry in Geraldine. His body was taken back to Lewistown where a funeral was held. His short obituary reported that Wong was an old man who was well known in both Montana and Utah.

Montana attitudes toward the Chinese ranged from total exclusion in Great Falls to toleration in Helena, Butte, and Fort Benton. The prevailing feeling in Fort Benton seemed most influenced by economic conditions and by 1920 Chouteau County homesteads was suffering hard times. By then the Chinese population in Fort Benton had declined to six, although they were still in demand as cooks. In that year young 27-year-old China-born Owen G. Fat owned and operated a restaurant on Front Street with Lew Shu as cook. This restaurant was located in the Culbertson House block, between Black American Peter Burnett’s shoe repair shop and Japanese-American Tommy Matsumoto’s restaurant. Matsumoto, born in Japan in 1874, had come to the U. S. in 1900, and operated the Club Café on Front Street for about twenty years before moving to Great Falls to open the popular Club Cafeteria on Central Avenue.

Two other Chinese residents in Fort Benton in 1920 were Chow Heery, who operated a restaurant on Front Street and elderly 75-year-old Tom Mun, who served as cook at Jere Sullivan’s popular Choteau House hotel. The final two Chinese resident in Fort Benton were young American-born Chinese, Wong G. Ham and Young Yen, who were the cooks at Charles Lepley’s Grand Union Hotel.

In January 1922, a fire that was caused by hot ashes dumped near a wooden fence would have developed into serious proportions had it not been for prompt action by Henry Hagen about 3:00 o’clock Tuesday morning. The blaze was discovered by one of the tenants of the Hagen block who gave the alarm, and when Mr. Hagen reached the scene of trouble in the rear of the Chinese restaurant, the flames were creeping toward a block of frame buildings that it would have been difficult to save.

The last Chinese in Fort Benton operated the Quan Café until February 1923, when cook Wong Ming hung himself. As reported in the River Press:
“Wong Ming Hangs Self. Wong Ming, cook at the Quan Café hung himself sometime during Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. Upon opening up Wednesday morning, the proprietor, Tom Mum, noted Wong’s absence from his accustomed job and went upstairs to call him and upon opening the door found him, hanging from the door casing. Wong had driven a nail into the casing and used a small rope to carry out his purpose. No cause is known to exist for his act, more than that he was of a morose disposition and was given to times of despondency. He came here from Butte about two years ago and was 23 years of age. The body will be taken to Butte Thursday for burial, relatives of the Chinaboy living there.

“Tom Mum, who has conducted the Quan Café during the past few years, came here about eight years ago. He has decided to close the restaurant for the present at least and will go to Butte where he will secure employment. Mr. Mum is well liked and will be greatly missed by his patrons.”

Another perspective on this incident came from the Great Falls Tribune under the headline, “Cook Scolds Helper For Absence From Tasks But He Only Shivers In Answer; He Talks to Dead Man.

“Wong Ming, cook’s helper at the Quam restaurant here, was not on hand to help prepare breakfast Wednesday morning. The cook stormed around a while, did some of the odd jobs Wong was supposed to do, then went to Wong’s room fully determined to give the late sleeper a large fragment of his mind.

“Wong was standing just inside his room when the cook opened the door. He appeared to be shivering violently, a fact which the cook credited to the cold weather. All the cook said may not be translated here, but in substance his remarks were to the effect that Wong could warm himself by getting down into the kitchen and rustling about a fit.

“Wong made no reply, but kept on shivering. Thoroughly exasperated, the cook attempted to grab him by the arm. With the touch, Wong floated away from him a little ways and seemed to sort of stay suspended in the air. The cook was conscious of a prickling feeling along his spine, but he needed help in the kitchen. With a silent appeal to his ancestors, he tip-toed closer to Wong and this time took a grip on Wong’s arm that no shiver could break.

“Wong tumbled in a heap at the cook’s feet. Sometime during the night he had mounted a chair, driven a nail into the casing above the door, attached one end of a small rope to the nail and the other to his neck, kicked the chair away. He had been suspended, his feet just off the floor, when the cook opened the door and set the body to “shivering.” The cook did not notice the rope until the body fell.

“Employes of the restaurant say that Wong was in a cheerful mood when he finished up his work the night before and retired. His father and brother live in Butte, and it is expected that the body will be taken there for burial.”

Speculation at the time indicated that Wong Ming was hanged to scare-off the remaining Chinese in the town. Although never proven, the incident led Manager Tom Mun and staff to close the café the same day and leave for Butte. This sadly ended the era of the Celestial Kingdom in Fort Benton.

Despite the ending of the Chinese presence in Fort Benton in 1923, that was not the last word. The real ending appears to be the return of a Chinese man to the town about four years later, in 1927. Wally Morger, who was four years old at that time and the only son of the Fort Benton Town Marshal Earl Morger, remembers that a Chinese man named Chow Hoy approached Marshal Morger and asked if he would be interested in buying his home. The house had been built in 1912 in the Delatraz addition, and Chow Hoy had bought it in 1917. Chow Hoy wanted $500 for the house and four 35 ft. by 120 ft. lots. He indicated that the ethnic situation in town directed against the Chinese had fomented threats against him, a sentiment not unique to Fort Benton.

Marshal Morger approached his two uncles, Ed and Henry Davis, merchants in town, and managed to secure the money to seal the deal. Although the house was a small one bedroom, one bath home, it was well built and remains in the family today. Randy Morger purchased the home, at 1810 Franklin Street, three years ago. Wally concluded his story by saying, “The home holds many special memories for the Morger family.” To which we might add, the early Chinese on the Upper Missouri left many memorable stories we can all enjoy.

[Sources for all four parts: U.S. Census; Great Falls Yesterday, p. 12; Benton Record Weekly 20 Sep 1978; BRW 13 February 1880; BRW 27 February 1880; BRW 19 March 1880; BRW 2 Jun 1881;BRW 16 Jun 1881; BRW 18 August 1881; BRW 23 February 1882; BRW 16 March 1882; BRW 23 March 1882; BRW 17 August – 14 September 1882; BRW 5 October 1882; BRW 12 October 1882; BRW 2 June 1883; BRW 25 August 1883; Fort Benton River Press Weekly 2 April 1884; FBRPW 3 September 1884; FBRPW 4 February 1885; Great Falls Tribune Weekly 26 Dec 1885; FBRPW 20 Jan 1886; FBRPW 24 Feb 1886; FBRPW 15 January 1887; FBRPW 16 Nov 1887; FBRPW 8 April 1890; FBRPW 8 April 1891; FBRPW 24 Jun 1891; Great Falls Leader Daily 6 August 1891; FBRPW 10 Feb 1892; FBRPW 20 Jul 1892; FBRPW 12 August 1891; FBRPW 26 August 1891; FBRPW 29 June 1892; GFTD 4 Jan 1893; FBRPW 21 Feb 1894; FBRPW 6 March 1894; FBRPW 3 April 1895; FBRPW 28 August 1895; FBRPW 4 Feb 1900; FBRPW 27 Feb 1900; FBRPW 20 Mar 1901; FBRPW 2 Oct 1901; FBRPW 16 Oct 1901; Great Falls Leader Daily 24 Oct 1901; FBRPW 29 Jan 1902; FBRPW 5 Feb 1902; FBRPW 26 Feb 1902; GFTD 29 March 1902; FBRPW 2 Apr 1902; GFTD 7 Apr 1902; FBRPW 9 Apr 1902; FBRPW 30 Apr 1902; FBRPW 7 May 1902; FBRPW 14 May 1902; FBRPW 4 Feb 1903; FBRPW 11 Feb 1903; FBRPW 25 Mar 1903; FBRPW 17 Feb 1904; FBRPW 24 Feb 1904; FBRPW 2 Mar 1904; FBRPW 13 Apr 1904; FBRPW 17 Aug 1904; GFTD 3 Nov 1905; GFLD 4 Nov 1905; GFTD 30 May 1906; GFTD 30 Dec 1907; GFLD 11 Dec 1909; FBRPW 14 Sep 1910; FBRPW 16 Nov 1910; FBRPW 23 Nov 1910; FBRPW 24 Feb 1912; FBRPW 31 Jul 1912; GFTD 20 Jan 1919, p. 7; GFTD 13 Nov 1919; FBRPW 4 Jan 1922; GFTD 15 Feb 1923; FBRPW 21 Feb 1923; Ltr Sing Lee to C. E. Conrad 28 Oct 1898, Small Collection 185 Mansfield Library, U of M]

“With cattle on a thousand hills and prairies”: The Remarkable Milton E. Milner

By Ken Robison

This continues the series of frontier historical sketches by historians at the Joel F. Overholser Historical Research Center in Fort Benton.

Long before the great A. B. Guthrie published his book “These Thousand Hills,” this cowman’s term was used by Judge F. E. Stranahan in a fine tribute written in 1934 to perhaps Montana’s least known, yet greatest open range rancher—Milton E. Milner. Friend to his many young cowboys as well as to the rich and famous, Milner roamed the hills of Montana and the cities and sights of the world. Painted by Frederick Remington and Charles M. Russell, investor and perhaps originator of the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show, M. E. Milner left a legacy through foreman W. P. Sullivan that extends on down to today.

More about Milner and his amazing accomplishments later, but meanwhile here is what Judge Stranahan had to say in the July 24, 1934 Grass Range Review under the headline, “Judge Tells About Ownership and Operation of Old Milner Livestock Company
“I have just sent out the last check that has paid the final distribution of the full par value of the capital stock and have accomplished the dissolution of a corporation that has written “finis” to one of the greatest cow outfits of the west, the Milner Cattle company, and I have been asked to write of this outfit and of its founder, Milton E. Milner. I am glad to do this, because I have read some articles that were not very complimentary to the latter.

“Mr. Milner was one of the pioneer cattlemen of Montana. In the earliest annals of the business he formed a co-partnership with John M. Boardman, and the firm of Milner & Boardman ran cattle for a time on the Shonkin range. After this partnership was dissolved, Mr. Milner entered the business on a much larger scale and formed his corporation. He was the only stockholder of it in the west. All others were eastern people, and the company operated in northern and eastern Montana, with ranches of many thousands of acres at Shonkin, Square Butte and other places, now owned by William P. Sullivan, who was formerly one of Mr. Milner’s foremen. The roundup and shipping points were principally in Chouteau and Valley counties.

“With cattle on a thousand hills and prairies, with scores of range riders to care for them, this corporation ran its life out and expired by lapse of time just as death ended the career of its organizer 21 years ago. The open range was then closing, and his work was done. For the stockholders and executors of the Milner will, I took charge and renewed the corporation mainly for the purpose of liquidation and closing out business affairs where Mr. Milner left them. Since its renewal I have been secretary of the liquidating corporation, and during that time, besides sending out checks for annual dividends, the original investment of each stockholder has been paid in full twice over, but that was not a marker to which they received in dividends when the company was a going concern.

“The business under the Milner management was a prosperous one, chiefly, I think, because his first great care was for those who actually did the work, for in their hands and subject to their loyal and efficient service, all the profit producing assets of the company reposed. His secondary anxiety was for those whose money was invested, and they revered him for his high character, his strict integrity and his careful business methods to such an extent that they named their children and their grandchildren for him.

“The Milner brand of humanism stood out in bold relief where the workers in the business were concerned. I have never heard of his like outside of fiction. To the men who handled the cattle he was like a loving father and no service on his part was too great for their comfort and advancement. If a young cowpuncher in his employ showed himself worthy and inclined toward a better education, Milner would take him out of the saddle and put him through school or college and pay all his expenses. Such a case came under my observation while carrying on the Milner estate and I enjoyed the privilege of watching over the young student in an Iowa college and of handing him $1,000 cash upon his graduation, in accordance with the provisions of Mr. Milner’s will.

“At the old Fort Benton ford of the Missouri river, where the Crow and Blackfeet war parties crossed to rob and fight each other for possibly a thousand years, the Milner outfit was crossing a beef herd for shipment many years ago. Charlie Mudgett was foreman of the drive. Charlie was one of those splendid cowboy characters now being sung and told of in song and story. Some of the beef animals were inclined to stall and turn back and refuse to take the water. To prevent that mishap, Charlie rode into swifter water than he expected. His horse’s feet were swept from under him and Charlie drowned. The grief of the employer at the loss of such a young man seemed boundless. A silver coin found in the pocket of the dead man was made into a watch charm and worn by Mr. Milner. He supported and cared for Charlie’s mother throughout his life as though she were his own and made provision for her in his will, when he could not longer care for her in person. But the most unusual gesture of affection and regret was Mr. Milner’s direction that, upon his own death, his body be cremated and its ashes strewn upon the waters of the ford where Charlie Mudgett lost his life. That was done.

“The ever popular romance of the wild west, now carried on almost exclusively by drug store cowboys, probably found its origin in the mind of Mr. Milner. One of the chief stockholders of Milner Cattle company was Nate Salsbury [Salisbury], a famous New York actor and theatrical man. On one occasion Mr. Milner suggested to Salsbury that he organize a show company to portray that wilderness of the western region. Salsbury was in doubt about it. It was a novel proposition. He told Milner the theatre was the glamorous land of make believe where some greater pretender who could lead and hoodwink the people in a most realistic manner was necessary to the success of such an enterprise, and where in all that wilderness out there could such a fakir be found.

“Milner told Salsbury he did not think that would be a stumbling block, that we had out here in the west one of the finest lookers and one of the biggest showmen he ever saw, who was called “Buffalo Bill” Cody, and so the great wild west show was born. Salsbury took it around the world with wonderful enthusiasm among his audiences until Bill thought he was the whole show and would quit unless it was turned over to him. Bill could fake Indians, stage robbers and cowboys, but the balance sheet and the show went on the rocks. Bill went broke but, like the soul of old John Brown, the romance, so auspiciously started, still goes marching on.

“Another nationally appreciated actor was James O’Neill, who was also a stockholder in the Milner company. He was a handsome man. I have seen him, some 60 years ago, fill a theatre to overflowing with ladies on a Saturday afternoon matinee. At the outset he put $7,000 in the company and often said it was usual for him to never again see a dollar of his ordinary investments, but that Milner had given him back his money so many times over that he was almost ashamed to take it. His son, Eugene O’Neill, world famous writer of plays, succeeded to his father’s shares upon the death of the latter.

“Mr. Milner may have indulged in some crochets. Who has not? Some people were not favorably impressed by him. He did not always follow their lines of conduct. His name had been Miller but he said he knew so many Millers who had misbehaved and there were so many pesky insects of that name who fluttered in such an annoying way around his reading lamp at night that he went into court and had his name changed to Milner. While he entertained the highest respect for the religious beliefs of others, he had none of his own. He did not take kindly to the supernatural. He was a man of education and refinement and possessed of considerable wealth and he was courteous and genteel and rather inclined to be chivalrous to the members of the fair sex. He never married. His life was lived in the rough and his idea was that the rough was no place for a lady. He contended himself with his large family of cowboys. He was a lover of the beautiful in flowers, plants and works of art and on his winter jaunts he gathered articles he keenly enjoyed in his ranch homes--quaint jewelry, garnished with precious stones; fine linens, tapestries, and choice fabrics of various kinds and beautiful etchings. In his will he said he would leave a list of his most intimate friends who were to receive gifts from his collection but he forgot to make up the list. His chief executor, A. H. “Bert” Davis, a foreman of the company, was so intimately acquainted with Mr. Milner’s desires that he made the distribution without the list.

“Mr. Milner had become so thoroughly attached to his cowboy family that he left the bulk of his fortune to them and the memory of that manly man is still green in the hearts of the beneficiaries of his bounty. What matters it, then, that no kindred hand soothed his last hours, that no storied urn marks his last resting place, that no animated bust tells his story and that the great river still sweeps his ashes downward to the sea." [Source: Montana Newspaper Association 23 Jul 1934 The Grass Range Review]

In his early career as a painter, Remington took a number of opportunities to paint portraits of westerners at work. In 1889, Remington accepted a commission from Milton E. Milner to show him and an associate, Judge Kennon, out searching for new cattle range in Montana Territory. Prospecting for Cattle Range is an example of Remington's early style, featuring realistic details, tight use of line and clearly articulated shapes.

Lot 2263
Frederic Sackrider Remington
American, 1861-1909
Trotter, circa 1885
Inscribed Dear Milton/I present to you this oil/reminisce of your past cowboy life/I am sure you miss it/Memorable fine days we will/treasure always/Remember?/Frederic R. (lr)
Oil on canvas mounted on canvas
30 x 22 inches
Provenance:
Milton E. Milner
Thence by descent in the family to the present owner
This work is accompanied by a letter of authenticity from the Remington Examination Committee.
Sold to a buyer from Florida for $67,000

Milton E. Milner, the original owner of the present work, was a shareholder in Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Company, incorporated in 1887. A Montana cattle rancher, Milner commissioned Remington in 1889 to paint him and an associate out searching for new cattle ranges in the Montana Territory. Located near Fort Benton, Montana, the Milner ranch was incorporated in Montana as the Milner Live Stock Company in 1884, and was eventually renamed the Milner Cattle Company.

The pose of the horse and rider in Trotter is similar to that of another pair depicted on the left of the painting commissioned by Milner, Prospecting for Cattle Range (Collection Buffalo Bill Historical Center). The Frederic Remington Examination Committee, which has authenticated the painting, has suggested that there may be a relationship between the two works.