Friday Photo: Turk Greenough

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, Byerly Collection

Rodeo champion Turk Greenough enjoys the view of the Beartooth Highway above Rock Creek Gorge circa 1939.

P.S. Remember Turk's rodeo star sisters?

Shoebox Annie

Alice Finnegan’s great book Goosetown: In Their Own Words puts the spotlight on oldtimers who grew up in this Anaconda neighborhood. Shoebox Annie is one memorable character that many recall with mixed emotions. She lived in Goosetown in the 1920s, but so great was the impression she left that even those growing up in the 1950s avoided the area of Alder and Commercial where her house once stood. Shoebox Annie carried a shoebox out of which she sold soap, shoelaces, and other items. She also carried her moonshine in the box. She had a pet magpie whose split tongue allowed it to talk. She sometimes went door to door with her magpie, selling soap. The bird knew how to pick up jewelry off dressers and fly out of the house with it. If you invited Annie into your house, she would steal things. The only way to get rid of her was to buy her soap. While some Goosetown kids frequented Annie’s house, others were deathly afraid of her.

Photos courtesy The Unknown History of Misandry

Annie and her son Skidmore supposedly killed people and buried them in the basement. Sometimes horrible smells came from her house, and neighbors were convinced she was boiling body parts. There was truth to these tales. Annie’s real name was Mary Eleanor Smith. Authorities suspected her and her son of killing four people, including two who went missing while the pair lived in Anaconda. Authorities believed Annie and Skidmore dismembered the bodies in the bathtub and burned and disintegrated the pieces with acid. They did go to prison in Washington State for possessing items belonging to one of their victims. But lacking physical evidence, neither was ever convicted of murder. Annie is infamous as one of a few female serial killers.

P.S. Here's what the newspapers had to say about Annie and Skidmore.
P.P.S. Remember this sensational murder trial?

Langford Peel's Tombstone

When Helena became the territorial capital in 1875, the capital city wanted its buildings and community resources to showcase its importance. A federal assay office—one of only five in the nation—opened in Helena in 1876, and so did Central School, the first school in the territory with  graded classrooms. The rise overlooking the gulch was the best, most visible location to build the school, but that entailed moving part of the City Cemetery, active since 1865. It was neither an easy nor a pleasant task, moving a cemetery. Most graves were unmarked, and so in many cases it was a game of move-them-when-you-find-them. The method of burial in roughly and hastily made pine boxes or worse left corpses in various stages of decomposition. This made removal difficult and grisly. Another problem was where to put the newly unburied dead. Lewis and Clark County created Benton Avenue Cemetery in 1870, and so it provided the solution to the latter problem. Benton Avenue became the receptacle for burials clearly marked with tombstones or wooden markers as well as unmarked graves encountered during the digging of the school’s foundation. Among the graves transferred to Benton Avenue was that of desperado Langford Peel, killed in a saloon affray in 1867. A tombstone, five feet tall and expertly carved, marked his grave. The enigmatic inscription read in part, “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the lord. I know that my redeemer liveth.” Peel’s contemporaries viewed it not as religious, but rather as a curse against Peel’s murderer.

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives

Wilbur Sanders took the wooden tombstone to his house at nearby 7th and Ewing. There it rested in his attic until the 1930s when it was rediscovered and given to the Montana Historical Society. It remains in the collection today, a rare, well-preserved relic of Helena's earliest history. Peel himself lost out; his new grave at Benton Avenue was, and is today, unmarked.

Friday Photo: The Bob Saloon

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, 981-837

The cowboys in this L.A. Huffman photo are enjoying a lazy day off at Bob Leavitt's Saloon in Jordan, Montana, circa 1904. The horse, on the other hand, looks ready to go. I hope your weekend is just as relaxing.

Fritz Augustus Heinze

Butte Copper King Fritz Augustus Heinze was dashing, aggressive, and unscrupulous. Women adored him, and he lived a fast and colorful, albeit short, life. In 1893 he formed an alliance with Copper King William A. Clark against their mutual rival Marcus Daly. After Daly’s death in 1900, Standard Oil Company acquired Daly’s influential Amalgamated Copper Mining Company. Heinze and Clark challenged its political and economic power. But mining fortunes made quickly could be lost just as fast. Standard Oil retaliated. Stock in Heinze’s own United Copper Company was mysteriously bought and sold. This and Heinze’s own financial indiscretions ruined him.

From Technical World Magazine, 1904, via Wikipedia

At the height of his legal and financial troubles, Heinze’s mining fortunes financed the handsome Metals Bank Building at Park and Main Streets. Nationally acclaimed architect Cass Gilbert designed the landmark in 1906 at the same time that he designed the Montana Club in Helena. Architecturally similar, both were pivotal buildings, constructed with new techniques that allowed multiple stories.

Courtesy Metals Bank Building

In 1914, Heinze died broke in New York City of cirrhosis of the liver; he was only forty-five. The Metals Bank Building is the only legacy he left in Montana.

P.S. Remember the cold-blooded shooting that took place where the Metals Bank Building stands today?
P.P.S. This caricature of Heinze seems pretty accurate.

Childhood at Garnet

Elizabeth Farmer Smith wrote wonderful descriptions of her childhood at Garnet in the 1920s. Her father was a mining engineer and the family spent three summers at Garnet beginning when Elizabeth was ten. She recalled what fun it was to slide down the mine dumps on pieces of tin. She rode in the empty ore cars as the men pushed them back into the mine to reload and watched her father scrape the mercury tables at the end of the day. The balls of mercury caught the gold, and when enough had accumulated, the blacksmith would melt it in a vat, leaving a golden blob at the bottom.

Elizabeth and a friend sit precariously on top of a hydraulic elevator in Garnet.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives

The Fourth of July dance was the summer’s highlight. Adults spread cornmeal on the oak floor in the dance hall. Elizabeth and the other children skated and slid to prepare it for dancing.

Elizabeth stands beside the family's 1922 Buick. Her mother is at the wheel, and her sister is in the back seat.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, PAc 79-60.6

The family had a 1922 Buick that Elizabeth’s mother learned to drive, an unusual feat for a woman at that time. But the horse-drawn stage to Bearmouth still operated, and three times a week it would bring the Farmers a gallon jug of sweet milk. By the time the stage reached Garnet, up the steep log-lined grade that reminded Elizabeth of corduroy, it had jostled so much that there was always butter on top.  Elizabeth remembered that the boys played mean tricks on Frank Davey, whose many properties and businesses included the general store. Mr. Davey guarded his merchandise to a fault. The boys would order candy that Mr. Davey kept behind a glass case, and when Mr. Davey plunked the sack on the counter, the boys would snatch it, put down rocks instead of money, and run away. Once, the boys found a three-piece suit like Mr. Davey always wore, stuffed it with straw, and hung the effigy on the hotel’s flagpole. The ultimate insult was that Mr. Davey also owned the hotel. Elizabeth’s colorful recollections can be found in the Montana Historical Society’s Research Center vertical files.

Friday Photo: Miner's Union Day

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives

N.A. Forsyth captured this stereograph view of the Miners' Union Day festivities in Butte circa 1910 and called it "A Great Day in Butte, Miners' Union Day."

Montana Club

Private men’s clubs had long been a fixture in cities back east, and as frontier settlements like Helena evolved from mining camps to towns, the uncouth image would no longer do. The first members of Helena’s far-famed Montana Club set out to prove their town as cultured as any other with elegantly appointed rooms beautifully furnished for the cultured enjoyment of its 130 members. Rules were strict. There was no gambling on club premises and no women allowed except at special events. The reading room artistically displayed all the latest newspapers. Missing was the popular Police Gazette because it was printed on pink paper and considered tacky. Bylaws forbade loud talking, eating, or drinking in the library, and neither were dogs or sleeping on the sofas allowed.

The original Montana Club (left) was destroyed in a fire in 1903. The current building (right) was finished in 1905.
Photos courtesy Helena as She Was

By the 1890s, rules relaxed and the club installed a basement bowling alley where, at certain times only, ladies were welcome. Another fund-raising scheme extended special ninety-day memberships to officers stationed at Fort Harrison. But some of the officers drank too much, became unruly, and even smuggled women into the club. Times do change! In the 1940s, the Montana Club installed slot machines in its lounge and opened the bar to women.

From Montana Moments: History on the Go
P.S. Here's a slideshow of historic photos of the Montana Club.

The Story of Sack Woman

Beloved Salish elder Louis Adams recently shared the story of Sack Woman with a group of high school students at Fales Flat in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. Centuries-old Ponderosa pines surrounded the group. These trees bore scars that Sack Woman herself had made more than a century ago in teaching her people how to gather nourishment.

Louis Adams tells stories in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

Louis told the students that when he was a boy, Sack Woman was very old. But she was a powerful person. He and the other kids were afraid of her because it was her job to punish children. When a child misbehaved, parents would say, “I am going to tell Sack Woman.” If a child stole something or talked back to a parent or disobeyed, Sack Woman would come looking for the guilty child. She would catch him, put him in a gunny sack, and dunk him in the river. One day Louis did something that got him into big trouble. His mother told Sack Woman, and Louis was scared. Sometime later, the family was at a gathering and Sack Woman came after him. But she was elderly, and Louis moved much faster than she could. Although she chased him, Louis got away. And he thought he had escaped. Sometime later, Louis had forgotten all about his misdeed and figured Sack Woman had forgotten too. He was at a family gathering, and Sack Woman was there. She came up quietly behind him and threw the sack over his head. She had him, and Louis was so scared! Sack Woman dragged him screaming down to the water and dunked him. Later on, Sack Woman called Louis over to her side, invited him to sit down beside her, and talked with him for a long time. She gently explained why she had dunked him. Children have to learn to be good, she told him, and it was her job to make sure that children grew up to be good people. And to be a good person, you have to learn from your mistakes. After that, Louis greatly respected Sack Woman, and loved her for what she had taught him.

Friday Photo: Boating on Lake Wilder

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, PAc 2006-26.31

The folks in today's photo by Ralph E. DeCamp are paddling around Lake Wilder in Jefferson County. Lake Wilder no longer exists, but with sunshine in the forecast, there are plenty of other lakes to choose from. Have a wonderful weekend.

P.S. It would be a good weekend for this, too.

Mining Camp Dangers

Epidemics were fairly commonplace throughout the nineteenth century and knew no social boundaries. Rich or poor, no person was immune. Typhoid and cholera plagued mining camps because miners quickly polluted the water source. But measles, whooping cough and diphtheria also invaded the communities. The great silver camp of Elkhorn that flourished in the 1880s has a particularly pathetic legacy, reminding us that sometimes the sacrifices of parents—leaving home and family for new opportunities—were minor compared to the sacrifices they imposed on their children. Dr. William Dudley served as camp doctor but could do nothing when a diphtheria epidemic in 1889 claimed most of Elkhorn’s children. His wife was pregnant with their second child, and the Dudleys left Elkhorn abruptly, leaving their first born son, a casualty of the epidemic, buried in the hillside cemetery. During that same year, on September 27, Harry Walton, 9, and Albin Nelson, 10, found a quicksilver container full of black powder. Adults filled these containers to detonate for community celebrations like the Fourth of July, and had overlooked this one. The boys managed to explode it and blew themselves to bits. They share a grave in the small cemetery.

Young boy in a coffin. Illness knew no social boundaries in Montana’s mining camps.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives

Mining-related accidents were a hazard to children, and explosives and mine shafts were not the only perils. Dredging created its own danger. At Bannack in 1916, three girls were enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon, splashing and wading in Grasshopper Creek. Laughing and talking, they waded out into a pond created by the dredge boat, not realizing they had gone too far. Suddenly the girls stepped off a ledge into nine feet of water. None could swim. Twelve-year-old Smith Paddock heard the commotion and managed to pull two of the girls out, but the third girl, sixteen-year-old Dorothy Dunn, drowned.

Dorothy Dunn, second in line on the left, wading in the dredge pond at Bannack.
Courtesy of Kathie Stachler, Dorothy's great-niece.

A Cowboy and his Horse

The Great Falls Tribune of August 30, 1951, related a heartwarming true tale of a cowboy and his horse. Henry Haughian and Buck were rounding up cattle in the rugged outback country of the Sheep Mountains north of Miles City in Dawson County. Buck, usually a surefooted horse, probably got to daydreaming and stumbled on the steep hillside. Henry had no time to jump off. He was caught beneath the horse as Buck rolled down the hill. The fall frightened Buck, who got up, shook himself, shied away, and took off down the hill as fast as he could go. But when Buck got over his fright, he realized that his master was missing. He climbed back up the rocky hillside, searching for him. He found Henry lying unconscious on the slope. Buck then climbed to the top of the hill and stood sentinel there.

Henry Haughian. Range Riders Museum Collection, via Range Rider Stories

No one knows how long he must have waited, motionless on that hilltop. Finally sometime later, two sheepherders happened along and saw the horse silhouetted against the Montana sky. They noticed the empty saddle right away and made their way to the riderless horse. Once the men reached the top of the hill, Buck led them down the steep incline to the spot where Henry lay, still unconscious. The men carried Henry to their truck and took him to the hospital. Henry suffered three broken bones and extensive bruises but recovered from his ordeal. The story proves that humans and their animal companions have special bonds. Or maybe it proves that horses know where their next meal comes from. Whatever the explanation, Henry never forgot Buck because Buck did not forget him.

P.S. Remember this heartwarming story?