Ring Out Montana’s Sesquicentennial (1864-2014)

When Montana’s birth year ended and the first day of 1865 dawned, the Montana Post heralded the milestone with a long poem, perhaps penned by editor Thomas Dimsdale. It is addressed to the paper’s subscribers, commemorating the territory’s eventful first year that included the Civil War, the Vigilantes’ work, and laying the cornerstones of religion and education.

By 1864, Virginia City was Montana's first commercial and social hub. This photo was taken circa 1866.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives

As Montana’s sesquicentennial comes to an end, here is a much-shortened version, taken with quite a bit of poetic license, of a celebratory epic:

Wake up! Wake Up! This New Year’s morn.
The Old Year’s dead—the New is born!
Wake up! The carrier’s heart is stirred
To emulate the early bird,
This birthday dawn of ‘Sixty-five,
And let you know he’s still alive.

And while you hear him gladly sing,
Toss him your New Year offering,
Nuggets are welcome to his hand
With good fair dust without much sand;
For Greenbacks, too, his fingers itch,
Since Jeff is nearing that “last ditch.”

What mighty burdens of the Past
Has the Old Year behind him cast;
Good old Uncle Sam—the rare old chap—
Has blazoned on his ample map
Another name—Montana fair—
And promises a future rare.

She’s put her servants all to work
To find where golden treasures lurk—
They’ve torn the gulches, burrowed far
In mountain, hill and rocky bar;
They’ve bound the waters to their use,
To turn the wheel and run the sluice.

The Vigilantes, staunch and true,
Have done a useful thing or two.
And smiling farms in valleys fair
Are made to team with riches rare.
They’ve builded towns with magic art
Where Traffic holds her humming mart.

Another year! How like an eagle’s flight—
How like a vision of the Summer’s night,
Its dying months have swiftly sped—
And great events put to bed.
The mighty page of History seldom bore
A nobler tablet than old Sixty-four.  

Happy New Year, Montana, and here’s to 150 more!

P.S. You can view the original poem on Chronicling America.

Mining Camp New Year’s

Martha Edgerton Plassman wrote in 1926 about early New Year’s celebrations in Montana and how they evolved as times changed. On New Year’s Day at Bannack in 1863, fourteen-year-old Martha and two other young girls set out to keep the custom of visiting. There were few women in the mining camp, and no proper houses to call upon, and so the three stopped at George Chrisman’s cabin, then moved down the street to Thompson and Swift’s general store. Inside they found Henry Plummer—later hanged by the vigilantes—in an argument with another fellow, both quite inebriated. The conversation was heated, and Mr. Thompson put a hand on Plummer’s shoulder, pointing him to the back door. The three teenagers, caught in the middle, made a hasty retreat out the front. Martha was so frightened that she never again stepped inside a store in Bannack.

This photo of the governor's official residence shows what Bannack looked like in 1863.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, 

In Virginia City, between Christmas and New Year’s of 1867, things were different. The streets were gay with fashionable ladies visiting from house to house. Music and dancing were easy to find, and spirits flowed freely under many hospitable roofs. Nearly ten years later in Helena on New Year’s Day 1877, the New York tradition of ladies receiving gentlemen acquaintances was the practice. The newspaper listed the names of ladies receiving callers; several usually went together as hostesses. Dressed in their most beautiful gowns, they received guests throughout the afternoon. Tables were set with the best china and silver and heaped with many kinds of cakes and rolls. But Martha recalled that unlike rough and raw Virginia City, in Helena coffee usually took the place of strong spirits.

P.S. Remember when Henry Plummer hosted Thanksgiving dinner?

Shopping the Gulch on New Year’s Day 1894

On New Year’s Day in 1894, the Helena Independent advertised numerous sales, activities, and special deals. For three dollars, you could buy a year’s subscription to the Weekly Independent and receive a free leather-bound 800-page cookbook. August Fack advertised that you could visit his California Wine House and enjoy his brand-new art acquisitions just in from Germany. The New York Store offered a variety of dress fabric reduced from a dollar a yard to 75 cents.

In 1894, the New York Store was located on Main Street in the three-story building on the right. When this photo was taken in the 1930s, that building housed the Independent newspaper.
Photo from the Wes and Carol Synness collection via Helena As She Was.

At the railway agent’s office, $100 could buy you a roundtrip, two-week vacation to Hot Springs, Arkansas, including train fare, all meals, and choice of hotels. If you dropped in the City Drug Store, you could find Gypsy Queen Hair Grower or Hockio’s Turkish Myrrh for the teeth.  Shopping the gulch in the 1890s was never complete without a stop at Hepperdiezel’s in the Novelty Block at 13 South Main Street.
 

Hepperdiezal’s was located in the Novelty Block during the 1890s and early 1900s. The building, shown here in 1970,  was a victim of Urban Renewal.
Montana Historical Society Photograph Archives, 953-209

According to Belle Fligelman Winestine, “you could smell this delicious butter and sugar smell as you came up the Gulch, a half a block away.” Mrs. Hepperdiezal stayed behind the counter in her crinkly clean starched pink and white striped shirtwaist and white collar selling less expensive taffy and butterscotch. Mr. Hepperdiezel was in charge of the more expensive candies, which the customer chose one by one to be carefully packed in elegant satin boxes. Three steps spanned the back of the store and led to a second level. Lanes of artificial palm trees and a fountain decorated the parlor area where patrons sat at marble-topped tables. Hepperdiezel’s ice cream sodas, at two for 24 cents, were the perfect end to a long day of shopping.  

Ice Skating in Butte

Butte celebrated the long-anticipated formal opening of the Pavilion Ice Rink, the largest and finest rink west of Chicago, late in 1884. The amphitheater was located on Alaska Street, one block east of the Butte Silver Bow County Courthouse, where the parking lot of the Butte-Silver Bow Archives is today. During the weeks leading up to the opening, the Daily Miner reported problems in freezing the rink because of the vast area of ice it required. The skating area was 9,000 square feet. A culvert supplying water for the ice ran beneath a cement floor. The ice was formed in thin layers of fine spray to a final depth of six inches. The process was labor intensive, and thus the opening was postponed throughout December as managers worked to build up the layers of ice. Finally, a pre-opening Grand Masquerade on December 20 attracted skaters from Anaconda and Deer Lodge. The Northern Pacific offered special rates and reserved seats at no extra charge for those out-of-towners attending the gala. The event featured floral arrangements from San Francisco, a flowing bronze fountain from Chicago that cost $600, special effects from new electric lighting, a newly uniformed brass band, a completely dust-free environment, and four hundred pairs of the celebrated New York Club skates for rent. There was also an experienced bouncer to make certain no bad characters gained admittance. After the preview on December 20, the rink opened to the public on Christmas Day, and on New Year’s Eve, professional skaters from back East promised the best entertainment ever produced on ice. The rink, however, proved too difficult to maintain, and soon it was no more.

May your holidays be as festive as those celebrations.



Postcard courtesy Nancy Oram



Mining Camp New Year’s

Martha Edgerton Plassman wrote in 1926 about early New Year’s celebrations in Montana and how they evolved as times changed. On New Year’s Day at Bannack in 1863, fourteen-year-old Martha and two other young girls set out to keep the custom of visiting. There were few women in the mining camp, and no proper houses to call upon, and so the three stopped at George Chrisman’s cabin, then moved down the street to Thompson and Swift’s general store. Inside they found Henry Plummer—later hanged by the vigilantes—in an argument with another fellow, both quite inebriated. The conversation was heated, and Mr. Thompson put a hand on Plummer’s shoulder, pointing him to the back door.  The three teenagers, caught in the middle, made a hasty retreat out the front. Martha was so frightened that she never again stepped inside a store in Bannack. In Virginia City, between Christmas and New Year’s of 1867, things were different. The streets were gay with fashionable ladies, visiting from house to house. Music and dancing were easy to find, and spirits flowed freely under many hospitable roofs. Nearly ten years later in Helena on New Year’s Day 1877, the New York tradition of ladies receiving gentlemen acquaintances was the practice. The newspaper listed the names of ladies receiving callers; several usually went together as hostesses. Dressed in their most beautiful gowns, they received guests throughout the afternoon. Tables were set with the best china and silver and heaped with many kinds of cakes and rolls. But Martha recalled that unlike rough and raw Virginia City, in Helena coffee usually took the place of strong spirits.

New Year’s Folklore and Traditions

On New Year’s Eve in 1921, the Columbus News published a list of superstitions and customs pertaining to this holiday. Montana is such a melting pot that customs, superstitions, and traditions came from all over the world. Here is a synopsis of some of those. Quiet clear weather on New Year’s Eve means the year will be prosperous. But if the wind blows, it is a sign of pestilence. It is lucky to rise early on New Year’s Day, but if you wash clothes on the first day of the New Year, you will wash away a friend. If the ice melts on January first, it will freeze on April first.  While the clock is striking midnight on New Year’s Eve, say this poem three times: “St. Anne St. Anne, send me a man as fast as you can” and you will be engaged within the year. Calling on friends is a longtime tradition on New Year’s Day. But in even earlier times, caroling was the custom. Bring the first carol singer who comes to your door on New Year’s into your house through the front door, take the caroler throughout the house, and let him out the back door, it will bring luck to your household for the coming year. If the first person you meet on New Year’s Day is a man, you’ll have good luck. If it’ a woman, bad luck. If it’s a priest, you’ll die within the year; if it’s a policeman, you will have a lawsuit. Good luck will come to you if you place coins on your windowsill on New Year’s Eve.

Whatever your superstitions or traditions, party safely and have a prosperous New Year.

New Year’s in 1913

One of the greatest New Year’s celebrations Montana has ever seen took place at Luther Hall in Great Falls in 1913. Nearly 1,000 people ushered in the New Year at the Electricians Ball hosted by the Electricians Union. The party went on for two nights on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s night. There was a matinee of silent films sandwiched in between for those who did not care for dancing, but wanted to experience the most lavish decorations Great Falls had ever seen. Following a “rose garden” theme, it took 40 people to decorate. More than 10,000 roses in white, red, pink, and yellow festooned the hall. 13,000 feet of vines and rose garlands fastened above draped to a musicians’ pedestal in the center of the hall. Sixty pots of live palms and ferns hung below the balcony, camouflaging it in a veritable wall of greenery interspersed with huge pots of American Beauty roses. There were so many roses that the lovely smell even perfumed the wintery outdoors all the way down the block. The Great Falls Electricians Union accomplished what other groups could not, installing a huge searchlight that played in various colors over the dancing couples while electric signs and several large tungsten lights cast a brilliant glow. The decorating committee spent a whopping $1200 on their efforts, which was a huge sum for 1913. The Tribune commented that the decorating committee reached the uttermost heights. It was indeed a fitting celebration for the town famous as the Electric City. On one further note, at the door each lady received a beautiful rosebud, but alas, these were artificial.