׉?4ׁB!בCט  (u׉׉	 7cassandra://qcIhOm6Z7FHhWRGLXZbEmX7j00p0-wfkBSiNVTT8928 #`׉	 7cassandra://SCpRe-bggm3AVKSMeEnNn-d10z39lgTxN_5xFV-1LK4͌`s׉	 7cassandra://_VEsI9iBf12N7XuRhdhEMOFr-h6ohRK08Bkm_0m_9fM*\` ׉	 7cassandra://FGj1FZHZBO0gWb1prefNt8J2Gjeo4VHMp_qk-ChejH8 ͠]b`#i^yט   (u׈   frJ  נb`#i^yہ ̋	9ׁH "https://chroniclingamerica.loc.govׁׁЈ׈Eb`#i^y׉EAMAY 2022
Ghost Towns and History of
Montana Newsletter
From the Daily Missoulian, May 23, 1913
HISTORIC ALTA RANGER STATION
In 1891, responding
to the depletion of
public ranges and
timber lands and to
the degradation of
water resources by
erosion, Congress
passed the General
Land Law Revision
Act authorizing the President to establish forest reserves on public lands. By
1893, 13 million acres had been reserved in seven western states and Alaska.
On February 22, 1897, President Grover Cleveland established thirteen
new reserves, including the first Montana reserves--the Flathead Reserve in
northwestern Montana and the Bitterroot Reserve in western Montana and
northern Idaho. These early reserves were administered by the General
Land Office (GLO) in the Department of the Interior. The role of the GLO's
forest rangers was primarily to prevent timber theft and illegal grazing on
public land.
Accessed via: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov
Faced with the responsibility of patrolling thousands of acres in the Bitterroot
Reserve, rangers Nathaniel E. "Than" Wilkerson and Henry C. Tuttle
built a small cabin on Hughes Creek to serve as a ranger station. The
Hughes Creek area was at that time the site of a small but active mining district.
Using a horse borrowed from miner Pete Bennett, the rangers cut
and skidded their own logs and spent their own money to purchase
"hinges, nails, a window, and flag to fly over the building." The one-room
cabin measured 13 x 15 feet, with V-notched corners and a sod roof. Completed
in two weeks time, Alta Ranger Station was officially dedicated on
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9׉H 5https://www.patreon.com/ghosttownsandhistoryofmontanaGׁׁrנb`#i^y EHM9ׁH $mailto:ghosttownsofmontana@gmail.comׁׁЈנb`#i^y JA9ׁHhttps://www.patreon.com/ׁׁЈ׉EP a g e 2
G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
July 4, 1899. It was used by GLO rangers until 1904, when a survey revealed that the cabin stood on
Pete Bennett's mining claim rather than forest reserve land, and the cabin was abandoned by the government.
In
February 1905, administration of the forest reserves was transferred from the General Land Office to
the Bureau of Forestry in the Department of Agriculture. Later that year the Bureau became the United
States Forest Service. In March 1907, the federal forest reserves were reorganized and renamed
national forests. The boundaries of the old Bitterroot Reserve were reconfigured to create the Bitterroot
National Forest and portions of the Lolo and Selway Forests.
Recognizing the significance of Alta Ranger Station in the history of the national forest system, the
Hamilton Lions Club purchased the site from Pete Bennett's daughter in 1941 and donated it to the
Forest Service. Although documentation is difficult, the cabin is probably the oldest surviving building
associated with federal forest management. (That claim has been made for two other historic ranger
stations. However, the Langhor Ranger Station on the Gallatin National Forest was constructed a
month later than Alta, in July 1899, and the Wapiti Ranger Station near Cody, Wyoming was not built
until 1901.) Prior to 1999, the cabin had been restored at least three times, in 1941, 1952, and
1974. None of the original roof survived and some changes were made to the cabin while in private
ownership, however the cabin's historic door and log walls remain intact. In December 1974, Alta Ranger
Station was officially listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
In 1999, Alta underwent another restoration in preparation for its centennial celebration. The cabin's
sod roof was in serious need of repair. Not only had time and the weather taken its toll, but in 1998 a
summer storm felled a large Douglas fir next to the cabin. Its limbs struck and damaged the rear portion
of the roof. In June 1999, a Forest Service preservation specialist and a crew of Forest Service employees
removed and rebuilt the cabin roof. Although the visual appearance is identical to the original
roof, the restored roof contains two hidden components to improve durability and drainage. A synthetic
membrane (EPDM) underlies the sod, preventing water from soaking into the roof supports and
planking. The water runs down the roof over the membrane to the eaves, where gravel "French
drains" were installed to assist with drainage and prevent water pooling against the retaining logs and
fascia. The restoration work was completed in time for Alta's centennial observance on July 1. Forest
Service employees, West Fork neighbors and visitors all joined with relatives of Than Wilkerson to celebrate
the little ranger station's first century with an old-fashioned cake-and-lemonade party. Overhead
flew a 45-star American flag, just like the one Than Wilkerson and Hank Tuttle bought with their own
money 100 years before.
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G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
On July 31, 2000, a line of dry-lightning storms swept across the tinder-dry southern portion of the Bitterroot
National Forest, igniting more than 90 wildfires. Within the next two weeks, more than 300,000 of the
Forest's 1.6 million acres were ablaze. The fires threatened dozens of the Forest's historic structures, including
Alta Ranger Station. As a precaution, the cabin's sod roof and dirt floor were soaked with water. Forest
Service employees and volunteers then wrapped the cabin in a silver fire-retardant fabric, secured with aluminized
flue tape, staples and roofing nails. The apron of the wrap was held to the ground with washed
gravel, and all vegetation was removed from the area immediately surrounding the foundation. Similar
measures were taken at Magruder Ranger Station, Cooper's Flat Cabin, McCart Lookout, and other historic
buildings on the Forest. Although the non-historic (1960s) Sula Peak lookout burned, and dozens of historic
wooden structural ruins and cabin remnants were destroyed, none of the Forest's National Register-eligible
buildings were destroyed or damaged during the 2000 fires. Alta's place in the sentiments of Forest Service
employees was obvious when, after the danger subsided in September, a Smokejumper crew requested the
"honor" of unwrapping Alta and raising the American flag over the cabin once more.
Alta is unusual among the Bitterroot National Forest's historic buildings since it is neither an active administrative
site or recreational facility. Visitors to Alta today see a building that is essentially a "museum piece" -
what some folks might call a "ghost cabin." It looks much as it did when the Lions' Club donated the abandoned
building to the Forest Service in 1941. Alta is actively maintained to preservation standards, ensuring
that it does not deteriorate. Its windows and frames were restored in 2003, and the foundation and sill logs
were replaced in 2009. Additional work is planned to preserve the hundreds of signatures on the interior
walls, dating back to 1899, and including men prominent in early Forest Service history such as Maj. Frank
Fenn and early ranger Charlie Powell. Groundskeeping is performed by volunteers Mike and Terry
Tietge. Terry is the grand-niece of Hank Tuttle who, along with fellow ranger Than Wilkerson, built the Alta
cabin in 1899.
There are no plans to restore the cabin to a "brand-new" 1899 appearance. Standing just as it is, the silent
little cabin speaks volumes about the early days of our national forest and the people who lived and worked
here. -Courtesy of Bitterroot National Forest and USDA
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G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
Cornue Homestead Part 2
Here is the 2nd and final part of the Cornue story. My
photographs for this portion are from my August 2015
visit to Montana. In several of the photographs you will
see an old John Deere tractor. This tractor was in the
field during my first visit to the homestead and I really
don’t know how I missed seeing it back then. I think I
was too busy with the Model-T Ford and the old wagon.
On this 2015 visit the Ford body was gone. That
area of the homestead had been cleaned up and planted
with hay. I was sorry to see that the old car was gone.
And if anyone is wondering if us photographers entered into any of these old buildings? The answer would be
YES, almost every one of them. Here now is Part 2:
Photo by Shawn Shawhan
Photo by Shawn Shawhan
“In 1912 about the only kind of recreation in the homestead country
was the neighborhood dance. If someone had a cabin 12 feet
by 25 feet, it was large enough to have a dance in. The bed was
taken down (there was usually only one room) and put outside as
well as other furniture - which wasn't much. The news of the affair
was spread by grapevine and they did a good job, too, as all
came within a radius of fifteen miles. The young people came by
horseback, but young married folks with small children hitched
the team to the buggy or the farm wagon and stopped along the
way to pick up the neighbors.”
“It was understood that each lady took a cake or sandwiches for lunch, and the bachelors provided the coffee.
The cabin was lighted by kerosene lamps. Early in the evening, the men stood around outside and exchanged
local gossip and within the house the women did the same.”
“When the fiddler arrived, they began to tune up and the boys came inside to claim their partners. People
were isolated, so this get-together was really an occasion. We
had no cars, electric power, or telephones. Thus everyone entered
into this dance wholeheartedly. It was democratic. The
girls danced with whomsoever asked them whether sixteen or
sixty, saint or sinner. There were no strangers. Some boys wore
hobnailed shoes, some chaps, some dress suits, some overalls —
dress made no difference. Every girl was a lady, and due respect
was paid to her.”
“Buffalo Gal, Comin' Through the Rye, and Skip to my Lou
were favorite tunes and when the fiddler struck up a square dance tune, the rafters nearly came down.
Photo by Shawn Shawhan
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G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
The bashful boys limbered up and came in, too, to swing the girls
off their feet amidst happy laughter and friendly banter. Sometimes
the couples got all mixed and then that caused even more
fun.”
“About ten o'clock the children got sleepy, and as they dropped
off one by one, the mothers put them on the floor close to the
wall of the room or under the chairs; or if the dance was in a
schoolhouse they pushed the desks against the walls and put the
children to bed on them. They were covered up very carefully
with coats. A scene of this kind is described much better in Owen Wister's The Virginian.”
“At midnight, lunch was served which was washed down with coffee strong enough to float a horseshoe. The
musicians rested for a while, then were playing again until daylight. There was reason for this long dance session.
There were few fences and very few trails, so it was unsafe to go home before daylight. An experience
of being lost on the prairie was not one to be sought after.”
Photo by Shawn Shawhan
This is Mrs. Cornue's description of the winter of 1919-1920. “The wheat crop was a complete failure; there
was not enough to cut for winter hay. At that time all the homesteaders had a few cattle and horses, which
were the only source of income.”
“A heavy snow fell in October which did not all melt until April. In January there were several feet on the
level, so stock could not get even sagebrush to eat. Everyone was out of feed. Stock became poorer and poorer.
The ranchers had to go to the railroad in Winnett to buy hay which would come in on the train at uncertain
times.”
“Harvey would start with his four-horse team at 5:00 a.m. Sometimes the thermometer stood at 25 degrees
below zero. Snow was so deep that he would have to shovel snow for several rods in order to get the wagon
through. Then when they arrived in town, the train would be late and they would load: they never got home
until almost midnight.”
“We wives would be home alone worrying for fear something had happened, then rejoicing when we finally
heard the rattling of the wagon up the road. Sometimes he would be gone all day and come home without
hay. As there was not enough to go around. That meant that the cattle would be hungrier and would bawl
around. Some got so weak that they had to be pulled up by the tail. Hundreds died. The prairies were dotted
with dead animals.”
“People near creeks cut down trees so the animals could eat the tender brush and buds. In the spring. The
losses were so great that many homesteaders loaded their few household goods on a wagon and left, for I do
not know where, but I hope it was to better places. Others, like ourselves, would have left as paupers: but all
we had was invested here, so we stayed and finally became fairly successful financially. Not all years were
bad.” -Courtesy of Shawn Shawhan, Check out more of his beautiful photos at: https://
abyssart.smugmug.com/?fbclid=IwAR0g5qKKbL9fGEjGeQOfnoe7G6IIxGIYn298nyBvXDiHu36eR34AqgCzA4
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G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
MINERS FACED ROUGH TIMES IN EARLY AMERICAN WEST
BOZEMAN -- Miners in the early days of the American West
faced many dangers, but desperate times drove them to the job,
according to speakers at Montana State University's latest conference
on Medical History of the West.
Some miners were injured in explosions or electrocuted. Others
fell off ladders, slipped on rocks, inhaled silica dust, or suffered
from mercury, lead or arsenic poisoning. Many got sick from
drinking dirty water and living too close together. Miners faced
immediate dangers, as well as health problems that developed
over time. Improved technology increased production, but added
new risks.
So why become a miner?
"When you consider the options of that time, whether it was sea
faring, coal mining, working in a steel mill or railroading, your
choice of dangers was relativistic," said Pierce Mullen, professor emeritus of history at MSU and
one of the organizers of the conference, "Mining and Medicine: Drills, Dynamite, Dust and Disease."
Workers
after the Civil War saw their incomes flatten during business cycles that reflected the
world's economy, Mullen added. Severe depressions during the 1870s and 1890s left hundreds of
thousands of workers without work for a year or more.
"People will do it (mine) if they are desperate enough," Mullen said. "Out here in the West, at first,
they didn't seem to worry much about the dangers. A lot of things were dangerous."
Frederic Quivik, a consulting historian of technology, noted that mining in the United States didn't
start in the West. People along the Atlantic Seaboard were already mining copper and iron during
Colonial times. Westward expansion brought lead mining to the Mississippi Valley. Mining in the
American West began with the California Gold Rush of 1848 and spread to Nevada, Arizona, Idaho
and Montana.
A former Butte resident, Quivik has researched and written extensively about the environmental
history of the copper industry in Butte and Anaconda. Besides his consultant work, he is an adjunct
instructor at the University of Pennsylvania.
Gold and silver lured prospectors to the West, Quivik said. Once here, they discovered other metals
like copper, lead and zinc and non-metallic minerals like asbestos, talc and borax.
׉	 7cassandra://eYe7hp_ZLCRDoYdtVRStdWwPMNUhRNZikJyZr2oK9pM)` b`#i^y׉E
P a g e 7
G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
Mullen added, "Mining has always had this glittery Powerball mentality. You can strike it rich, even
if your chances aren't good."
Quivik said some early miners used a series of ladders that descended hundreds of feet into the
ground. At the end of the day, when the miners were tired, not everyone made it to the top successfully.
Hoists and open cages replaced ladders, but miners sometimes fell or banged into jutting
rocks.
Power drills and electric lights were advancements that also carried risks, Quivik said. Power drills
created more dust, so miners who inhaled too much silica developed the chronic lung disease
called silicosis. Many miners were electrocuted after electric lights were installed in underground
mines.
Other conference speakers discussed the Anaconda smelter and human health and the treatment
of miners at the Galen Sanitarium. Brett Walker, head of the Department of History and Philosophy
at MSU, compared mining in the West with the Kamioka Mine in Japan. Quivik looked at litigation
in the early 1900s involving the Anaconda smelter. The conference ended with a discussion of
mining in Libby.
The April 24 conference was held at MSU's Museum of the Rockies. It was sponsored by the
Volney Steele Endowment for the Study of Medical History, the WWAMI medical education program,
MSU's Department of History and Philosophy and the Museum of the Rockies. –Evelyn
Boswell, (406) 994-5135 or evelynb@montana.edu, Courtesy of https://www.montana.edu/news
Photo by Jolene Ewert-Hintz
Helena, MT- Fire Tower. The welfare of the community
depended upon this prominent landmark,
strategically placed atop the town's most prominent
hill. Fire was the grim reaper that stalked all
western mining camps, and Last Chance Gulch
was no exception. Hastily built log cabins, crowded
together along the streets, created a constant
hazard. In the mining camp at Last Chance, wind
whipping through the gulch was an added danger.
The wind could carry burning embers to distant
neighborhoods; every miner's cabin had a fire bucket hanging within easy reach. Citizens organized a
warning system and built the first fire tower here in 1868. Volunteers took turns scanning the gulch for
wisps of smoke where none should be. Ironically, fire destroyed the first tower. This structure, constructed
using millwright techniques of beams bolted together, took its place in 1874. The city added a guardroom
and bell in 1886. For many years the bell rang the evening curfew for Helena's youngsters. The "Guardian
of the Gulch" served the community for nearly seventy years and has become a symbol of Helena's early
history and resilient citizens. -National Register of Historic Places in Cooperation with www.mtmemory.org
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P a g e 8
G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f
M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r
Charity Dillon
Priscilla Jane Allen is not the name she left behind when she died. She
is known to posterity as Charity Jane Dillon, and her grave, high above
Canyon Ferry Lake, is perhaps the most visited site in Broadwater
County.
There are several accounts of her life and death, but the common
threads recount how this young woman came west, alone and on
horseback looking for her errant lover. She came to Diamond City, twenty miles northeast of present-day Townsend,
in the mid-1860s and eventually found him happily married to another woman and the father of several children.
She kept her true identity and heartbreak to herself, and never revealed the man’s name. Under the assumed
name of Jane Dillon, she settled near a spring on the stagecoach road between Hog ‘Em and Radersburg
where she built a log cabin inn. The inn was not an overnight hostelry but rather a place where travelers could
stop and have a drink or a meal. The hospitality of this half-way house was well known. Some old timers claim that
she was called Charity because of her kindly acts, but others believe that her name came from the inn’s geographic
location near Charity Gulch. In 1872, passersby found Charity Dillon dead in her bed, a bottle whiskey hidden underneath.
While some conclude that she died an alcoholic, she may have
simply stored the whiskey—which she kept for customers—there for
safekeeping. Others believe she died of ptomaine poisoning from contaminated
canned goods, a fairly common occurrence. Still others insist
that Charity Dillon died of a broken heart. Whatever the cause, it is this
poignant mystery that brings visitors to her grave. –Ellen Baumler
Ellen Baumler is an award-winning author and Montana historian. A master at linking
history with modern-day supernatural events, Ellen's true stories have delighted audiences
across the state. She lives in Helena in a century-old house with her husband, Mark, and its resident spirits. To view and purchase Ellen’s
books, visit: http://ellenbaumler.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html
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