Friday Photo: Happy 4th!

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, Lot 26 Box 8 Folder 5, Mines and Mining photograph collection

Happy Independence Day! This patriotic boy climbed into a bucket on the Montana Coal and Coke Company’s tram line in Electric, Montana.

Friday Photo: Mule Team

Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, 957-871

A mule team pulls a covered wagon with a sign that reads "1864 French Gulch or Bust" at the Anaconda carnival on July 4, 1908.

A Second Perspective on the Fourth of July in Alder Gulch, 1865

While yesterday's post presents one view, here is another recollection of the same celebration. In her reminiscence, Girl from the Gulches, Mary Ronan recalls the Fourth of July in Virginia City, 1865. The Civil War was finally over, and hostilities that pervaded even the most remote mining camps in Montana Territory had calmed and lessened. Mary remembers that it was “a day atingle with motion, color, and music.” People thronged on the board sidewalks and footpaths, and horses and wagons crowded the street, lining up to view the parade. Mary was proud to ride with thirty-six other little girls all dressed in white on a dead-ax wagon—that is, a wagon with no springs—festively decorated with evergreens and bunting. In the center of the “float,” if one could call it that, the tallest and fairest of the girls stood motionless, dressed in a Grecian tunic with a knotted cord at her waist. Her long blond hair flowing behind her, she represented Columbia, the personification of the United States. The other little girls sat arranged in groups at Columbia’s feet representing the States of the Union. Each wore a blue scarf fashioned as a sash across her chest. A letter on each sash identified the state represented.

Mary Ronan at the time of her marriage, 1873.
Courtesy Maureen and Mike Mansfield Library, University of Montana

For Mary, the memory was bittersweet. Her letter stood for Missouri, a state in which she had lived. But she wanted to represent Kentucky, the state of her birth. Some other little girl, however, had already taken the K. The other bitter pill was that Mary worried self-consciously about her appearance. She had suffered all night with her extremely long hair painfully done up in rags—one method girls back then employed to curl their hair. But the result was less than desirable. It left her hair much too bushy and kinky!

The Fourth of July in Alder Gulch, 1865

Much has been made of the lines of allegiance drawn in Montana over the Civil War. Mary “Mollie” Sheehan Ronan danced for joy with her southern friends upon Lincoln’s assassination, and Harriett Sanders wrote of celebrations Southern women planned over Lincoln’s death. But Julia Gormley tells a different tale about Civil War loyalties in Alder Gulch. When word reached the gold camps, about ten days after Lincoln’s assassination, stores closed and flags flew at half staff. There were appropriate speeches and a midnight procession with the band playing a march for the dead. Then, on the Fourth of July that year, with the Civil War over, Julia later recalled that Judge Lott asked her to sing at the Independence Day festivities. She declined, but suggested he ask the Forbes sisters, who were good singers. When Judge Lott asked them, they were indignant to have been asked to sing at such a celebration. They were Southerners from Missouri who had lost their home and suffered greatly at the hands of Union soldiers. Judge Lott retuned to Julia and asked her why she had sent him into the rebel camp unprotected. Julia replied that he should not complain since he was not taken captive. Julia confessed that they had a good laugh over the situation. And later, the Forbes sisters did too. Julia goes on to say that she took her children to see the Independence Day parade in Virginia City. “It was really a very fine thing,” she wrote, “to see the good feeling between the Southern and Northern people way out there and strangers to each other join so heartily together on that 4th of ’65.”

Harper's Weekly published this illustration, "Peace," on July 4, 1865.

The Fight on the Fourth

Happy Independence Day!

Oil discovered near Shelby in 1922 brought the promise of prosperity. Shelby had train service, several banks had recently opened, and the town’s future looked bright. City officials thought they could make the town a center for tourism and further boost the economy. And so to promote the town, officials planned to hold the World Heavyweight Championship Fight between Jack Dempsey and Tommy Gibbons in Shelby. Tying in patriotism with their promotional scheme, the fight was scheduled on the Fourth of July in 1923. Officials built a huge arena on a local farm. It was  the size of a football field and seated 40,000. They began selling tickets. But no one had any money during the depression of the 1920s, and only 8,000 tickets sold. The whole thing proved a disaster, but the fight itself was one of the most memorable events in the history of boxing. As ticket holders waited in the nearly empty arena, 4,000 ranchers and farmers stormed inside as the bell signaled the opening round. In all about 13,000 people got to see the fight for free.

Jack Dempsey (left) and Tommy Gibbons shake hands before the fight.
Photo courtesy Marias Museum of History and Art

Jack Dempsey fought all fifteen rounds. Although he could not effect a knockout, he won the fight in a unanimous decision. The only knockout was that of Shelby’s dreams when the town’s scheme of prosperity failed miserably and the fight was one of the worst financial disasters in the history of boxing. Many years later, Great Falls legislator Charles Bovey—the consummate collector—acquired the slightly soiled boxing gloves Dempsey wore in this famous fight along with three Dempsey photographs. These items later sold at the Bovey estate auction for $31,000. Too bad Shelby couldn’t cash in.

P.S. You can watch the fight here.

Camel Trains

If you are stressed out about your Fourth of July preparations, here's a humorous perspective:

In the earliest days of the Montana mining camps, transportation was slow, and miners often waited in vain for ox-drawn freight wagons and mule trains to deliver supplies. Bad weather frequently delayed such essential items as mail, flour, and of course, whiskey. Stories abound about freighters caught in winter storms (check out the Winter issue of Montana The Magazine of Western History for an example). Such delays caused the rationing of supplies and brought on the infamous flour riots in Virginia City. Private companies tried to improve the delivery system, and some began to employ camel trains to carry goods over the Mullan Road to remote mining camps. It sounded like a great idea. Camels could carry up to one thousand pounds of flour each, they needed little food and water, and they plodded along at a slow but even pace. They were rather like today’s postal service: neither rain nor sleet nor snow seemed to stop them. But there was one problem. Bullwhackers and muleskinners detested the ungainly critters and dreaded meeting them on the trail. A mule train could smell the peculiar odor of camel from a long way off. Camel stench on the wind made horses and mules impossible to control. A mule train laden with a supply of whiskey earmarked for the Fourth of July met a camel train on a narrow road, and the mules stampeded. When it was over, whiskey soaked the ground, the Fourth of July was dry, and the camel experiment was over.

From Montana Moments: History on the Go