Old Missoula

11/27/17

Books, Rules and The Escaping business

I was asked a few years ago, what books do I read. I didn’t quite know how to answer that. When I see people being queried about what they are currently reading, I am often surprised at how easily they seem to be able to answer. If I were/was[1] asked that question now it would take me a while to answer. I seem to start reading different things and then put them away in what I guess I would call my second-look pile. The second-look pile seems to have gotten out of control. I like to have a stockpile of items that I can easily go to when I am between first-read items, but I do not regularly visit that stockpile and have become a little embarrassed/disappointed at my lack of tenacity. Revisiting them seems less important all the time.

In the same vein, I used to read a lot of what I guess you can call classic authors. Mostly American, but not all. Start with Nobel prize winners I thought, as they certainly carry some heft. I cannot think of any that I read that were not impressive and would recommend that as a starting place for anyone. Same with National Book award winners – at least the ones I’m familiar with.

Then there is a lesser, but fascinating, group that grabs the imagination, lighting it up like a torch. Maybe they didn’t win the prize of the day, but they nevertheless achieved a place somewhere in the highly regarded readership spectrum. Several books did that for me. One in particular was Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad.

I was extolling this book to my son one day when he asked me what is it about. I was stunned because I had almost completely forgotten what it was about. If it was so good why didn’t I remember it? Good question.

What I distinctly remembered was the effect it had on me at the time, not necessarily the story in particular. It was embarrassing to have to answer that way, but that was the only answer I had.

Not long ago I resolved to remedy that and set about rereading that book. Was it still so impressive after about a 50-year lapse? It wasn’t quite the same, but it is still an impressive story and Conrad’s prose is always a delight. His ability is particularly impressive when you consider that English was a second language for him. He is in that rare company of authors whose story has a quality that set it apart before he even wrote the first sentence.

Several other books did that for me. Shane by Jack Schaefer is one. Another is Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote. If I were/was asked the question – what should anyone be reading now – I think I would refer them to a little essay by Montana author Archie Joscelyn called The Lost World of Books. He aptly points out that people have forgotten how to read. Although he doesn’t say it in this essay, somewhere else he has said you should read everything you can get your hands on.

Growing up I seemed to notice that several people around me were often reading books. One neighbor friend in particular seemed to read books by the cart load, yet he didn’t say much about them. Later, he explained to me that it was a source of escape for him. I guess you could say that many good authors are in the escaping business.

 

I am currently rereading Wah-To-Yah by Lewis H. Garrard. It’s an impressive account of the author’s trip to Taos in the 1846. He was still in his teens on this trip, but his writing has a quality beyond his years. I’m rereading with a dictionary close at hand because he uses words and terms I’m not familiar with.

Ambassador Andrew Vincent Corry -1904 – 1981

Born in Missoula 1904

Graduated Carroll HS 1922 – Helena

1922 – 1924 – Carroll College, Helena

1924 – 1927 – Harvard – A.B. 1926

1927 – 1930 – Oxford England – A.B. 1929, B.Sc. 1930,

1931 – Montana School of Mines, Butte – M. S. 1931

1930 – 1933 – Instructor Montana School of Mines, Butte

1934 – 1936 – Instructor, Eng. Lit. Montana State Univ., Missoula

1936 – 1937 – Assistant Geologist and Researcher in mineral economics U. S. Govt.

1938 – 1940 – Geologist in charge, Armine Ltd., Buenos Ayres

1940 – Hired as a consultant on minerals for the Price Stabilization Unit of the Advisory Commission to the Council of National Defense.

1942 – Joined State Department as a consultant in the Division of Cultural Relations.

1947 – 1954 – Special Assistant to U. S. Ambassador in New Deli, India.

1958 – American consul-general Lahore Pakistan

1961 – 1964 – Coordinator of the Foreign Service Institute seminar on foreign policy for the State Department

1964 – 1967 – Ambassador to Sierra Leone

1967 – 1970 – Ambassador to Ceylon

Retired from U. S. Foreign Service in 1970

A highly regarded mining figure who went to school at the Butte School of Mines, Plato Malozemoff, had some high praise for Andrew Vincent Corry, in his book, A Life in Mining: Siberia to Chairman of Newmont Mining Corporation, 1909 – 1985.

After graduating from Butte School of Mines, Malozemoff became the CEO of Newmont Mining Corporation which, under his guidance, grew from a modest mining company to an international corporation valued at more than 2 billion dollars in 1986. Malozemoff struggled in Montana during the early depression years of the 1930’s, as did Andrew Corry.

The following is a quote from Malozemoff’s book:

“The other formative experience in Butte that influenced my later life came about through my acquaintance and later life-long friendship with Andrew V. Corry, an instructor in geology at the Montana School of Mines. Born in Montana, his father being a mining engineer, Andrew had his university education in geology and liberal arts at Harvard, was a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford for two years, and then got stuck in Butte in 1931 because he was unable to find a better job elsewhere. Andrew Corry was a true intellectual with encyclopedic erudition about everything, it seemed; he had a keen appreciation of music, was a singer, and had a searching, original mind that caused him to study all his life. These attributes, combined with a warm and intense interest in people around him, made him an ideal teacher, sponsor and friend to whom I could confide my innermost thoughts. My association with him immeasurably deepened my understanding of literature, philosophy and music, and encouraged me to have a practical and positive outlook on life and its foibles. He was a true renaissance man, and I became his disciple. If I have any wisdom, I owe its beginnings to him. I am flattered that he thought as well of me as I did of him.”

https://www.newspapers.com/image/4209796/

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https://history.state.gov/departmenthistory/people/corry-andrew-vincent

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The Rebel Girl – Elizabeth Gurley Flynn (1890 – 1964) – “I liked Missoula and hated to leave.”

The excerpts below are from Flynn’s autobiography – The Rebel Girl: An Autobiography, My First Life (1906 – 1926) – 1973.

“I attended the grammar school, P.S. No. 9 on 138^th Street. It was a decrepit old building then, with toilets in the yard . . . My teacher in an upper grade was James A. Hamilton who was studying law and later became a New York State official. He fired me with ambition to be a constitutional lawyer and drilled us so thoroughly in the U. S. Constitution and especially the Bill of Rights that I have been defending it ever since. (I have been arrested at least ten times in my lifetime and in every instance the denial of the Bill of Rights has been involved.) I joined a debating society which Mr. Hamilton had organized and took to it like a duck to water.”

Westward Ho!

It was in a spirit of high adventure that I set out in the Summer of 1909 to see my country and to meet its people. I went as far as Puget Sound and up into Canada. I traveled alone and was surrounded by men in the IWW halls, where there were only a few women members. Yet, I never had a disagreeable experience (outside of getting arrested). The IWW used to say: “Gurley is as safe with us as if she was in God’s pocket!”

The western country still had traces of the frontier. It was sparsely settled and had a natural wild beauty. All cities did not look alike as they do today, with the same chain stores and hotels, movies and illuminated advertisements, chromium fronts and cars. There were Indians, horses, cowboys, men in big wide hats, wearing lumber jackets and calked boots. Silver dollars and five-dollar gold pieces were in circulation. People were more original. They did not look alike, talk alike, think alike. From place to place there were different styles of clothing, speech and architecture. I fell in love with my country – its rivers, prairies, forests, mountains, cities and people. No one can take my love of country away from me! I felt then, as I do now, it’s a rich, fertile, beautiful land, capable of satisfying all the needs of its people. It could be a paradise on earth if it belonged to the people, not to a small owning class. I expressed all this in my speeches for socialism.

As I left Chicago, where I had lived for nearly a year, I had a sensation of excitement, which I have never lost, no matter how many trips I take over the spacious bosom of my country – whether I go by the far north route through snow and fir trees, or the southern way that takes you to palm and olive trees. Sprawled-out Chicago soon lay behind us, as we went along Lake Michigan to Milwaukee, then to Minneapolis and St. Paul, I saw the Mississippi River. On my earlier trip to the Mesabi Range, I had visited Lake Itasca, the small source of this mighty river, where it is but 12 feet wide and 18 inches deep. In my speeches this became an allegory of human progress. Leaving the Mississippi behind, the next strange sight was “the bad lands” of South Dakota, in the Black Hills – mile on mile of weird shapes, grotesque mounds of clay and sandstone. Then came the grandeur of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains. On the Continental Divide, I made my first stop – Butte, Montana.

My lifetime traveling habits were conditioned in my early youth by my great desire to see all I could of my country. Trains were slow in those days. In spring there were floods. In winter there were snow slides. Sometimes yesterday’s overland express pulled in today. But even now I prefer a slow train that makes plenty of stops en route so you can get out a few minutes and look around – no mad rushing streamliner with a blur outside the window for me, or fast flying airplane with the earth out of sight, riding on cream-puff clouds. Except to go over oceans, I do not prefer a plane. I love to look out of train windows at night to see the low hanging stars and the Big Dipper, or to glimpse Mt. Hood or Mt. Shasta, or the disappearing ghost of the Great Salt Lake. I like to pull into stations in remote places, where signboards say so many miles from Chicago, so many miles to San Francisco. For short trips, I prefer a bus where one meets the simple good people of our country from whom I learn so much in friendly conversation.

Butte was my main destination. I came as the honored guest speaker to an all-day annual affair of the miners, celebrating the founding of the Western Federation of Miners in 1898. Their Butte local was No. 1. They put me up in “the best hotel in town,” where I had a room and parlor with a balcony overlooking the main street. A famous speculator who fought the Anaconda Company, named Heinz, had once occupied it several years before, and used the balcony to receive the cheers of the populace, which were predominantly Irish. A man named Paddy Flynn was now president of the union. Butte is situated nearly a mile above sea level and should have been a healthy place. Instead it was a blighted city. The mines were in the very heart of the city, which has grown up around them.

A practice then prevailed to burn the sulfur out of the copper in great piles near the mines before it was sent to the smelters. The poisoned fumes pervaded the city and killed all vegetation. Not a blade of grass, a flower, a tree, could be seen in this terrible city. A sprawly, ugly place, with dusty shacks for the miners, it had an ever-expanding cemetery out on the flat lands. The city of the dead, mostly young miners, was almost as large as the living population, even in this very young city. “Human life was the cheapest by-product of this great copper camp,” wrote Bill Haywood of his visit there in 1898. After years of civic effort the Anaconda Copper Company was forced to abandon the ore burning at the mines and the ore was shipped to the smelters. People have nursed the foliage so Butte looks more like a human habitation today. But its gutted landscape is permanently scarred and defaced by the ravages of the mines.

Before I left Butte they gave me $100 (a fabulous amount in those days) for Vincent St. John. They wanted him to use it to go to the next convention of the Western Federation of Miners, where they figured there was a chance of getting the Federation back into the IWW. They gave me as a personal memento of the occasion a beautiful gold locket with a replica of a miner’s sifting pan, with nuggets, pick and shovel around it, reminiscent of the early days when gold mining predominated. It is one of my most precious possessions. Whenever I return to Butte I take it with me and it is always open sesame to the miner’s hearts. President Flynn and a committee also escorted me down into a mine. We donned miners’ caps and overalls to make the trip. The mine was so deep that the earth was actually hot. They also took me through a smelter, where a friendly worker ran an iron bar an inch or two into the molten copper and then cooled and hardened it, so I had another odd souvenir which served as an ash tray in my home in New York for years afterward.

THE MIGRATORY WORKERS

From Butte I went to Kalispell, Montana, where the IWW was leading a lumber strike. It took about 18 hours to go from Butte over the Continental Divide of the Rockies and around the mountains. It is in the northwest section of the state. I arrived there at about 3 a.m. There was no one to meet me at the station. The whole town was sleeping. But a railroad worker said: “Are you Gurley Flynn? Mrs. Heslewood said to go to the hotel,” which he pointed out nearby. There I found a room waiting for me. Fred Heslewood, a giant of a man, had been one of the top organizers of the Western Federation of Miners. He was there in charge of the strike of timber workers. He was greatly embarrassed by the presence of an IWW musical band which had set up camp in town, like gypsies. They had red uniforms and went out on the street corners like the Salvation Army.

Their leader, named Walsh, had previously organized the so-called “Overalls Brigade” to go to the 1908 Chicago Convention. There they had contributed to expelling De Leon and he had dubbed them “The Bummery.” Heslewood was able to bring the strike to a successful conclusion and he and his wife went on to Spokane with me. The band traveled around a while longer and then split up. They were workers and preferred the camps to a minstrel’s life. That they could descend upon a strike, and the organizer there had no control over them, indicated one of the fatal weaknesses of the IWW. It was “rank-and-file-ism” carried to excess, which I saw in many later strikes.

I remained in Spokane the rest of the summer, speaking three and four times a week in the IWW hall to an ever-changing audience of migratory workers. We had a custom in those days to send a speaker into a district for an indefinite period – until the speaker was worn out or the local audiences got tired. It was a good plan, for both the speaker and for the organization. Instead of being a fly-by-night lecturer, voicing generalities, one was compelled to study and deal with the conditions confronting the workers in that area and the remedies the organization proposed, and to speak about these matters. I came to know the people as they really were, their strengths and weaknesses. The speaker had to speak in a manner to interest people to whom he was not a passing novelty. It was hard on the lazy ones – speech orators – of which we had a few.

I learned a great deal about the lives of the migratory workers. The majority were American-born Eastern youth of adventurist spirit, who had followed Horace Greeley’s advice: “Go West, young man and grow up with the country!” Out there they became floaters, without homes or families. The IWW hall was their only social center, where they were able to park their blankets and suitcases, take a shower, or – more important – “boil up” their clothes and blankets in order to delouse themselves. Here they discussed their grievances and exchanged experiences which led to placing some particularly bad lumber camps on a blacklist. Here were lectures, discussions, and even parties.

I recall one Christmas the IWW in Tacoma, Washington, had a beautiful tree dedicated to “Fellow-worker Jesus” with many of his sayings about workers and common people decorating the hall. Ministers came from local churches to see for themselves how the IWW honored the Carpenter of Nazareth and the Fisherman of Galilee. They came to criticize but were impressed with the simplicity and sincerity of the tribute.

The bad conditions in the lumber camps of those days were notorious. The food was poor, the sleeping bunks dirty and crowded, sanitary facilities inadequate. The working hours were long, speedup prevailed, there were many accidents. Life was dreary and monotonous, the lengthy seasons out in the woods were broken only by July 4^th and the Christmas holidays. The IWW carried on a crusade against drink. Many of these lonely men came to town with a substantial sum in accumulated wages. Before they bought much needed shoes and clothing, they were “rolled” (robbed) in a saloon or house of prostitution and thrown out in the gutter penniless.

FREE SPEECH IN MONTANA

The IWW organizers were volunteers who worked on the jobs for wages. They carried small suitcases with supplies. Thousands of dollars were collected for initiations, dues, literature, subs, etc. The percentage defaulted was amazingly low. If an organizer was fired by the boss, he moved on to another job and somebody came shortly after to take over the first one. The language of the Western IWW was picturesque, earthy and salty. The street meetings often conflicted with the Salvation Army. Peaceable arrangements to follow them were finally made in most places. The IWW developed the use of songs as a medium to hold the crowd and for propaganda purposes. Many of them were written to religious airs, others to popular tunes. Some were written by Joe Hill, with original words and music. They were collected together in various editions of the little Red Song Book and sold in millions of copies. They are now part of the folklore of America.

The life of the migratory workers was isolated from the stationary workers in the cities. They seldom left the skid row areas of the various cities. They were not welcome “uptown.” They traveled by freight cars. Their work was hard and laborious. They were strong and hardy, tanned and weather-beaten by summer suns and winter snows. They regarded the city workers as stay-at-home softies – “scissor-bills.” They referred to a wife as “the ball and chain.” But the free-speech fights and mass strikes helped to break all this down, when support from other workers became a necessity.

Jack Jones came to organize in Missoula, Montana, in the Fall of 1908, sent there by St. John. I was happy to rejoin him. It was the first and only time we actually lived and worked together for any length of time. My first participation in an IWW free speech fight and my second arrest occurred in this little place, not an industrial town but a gateway to many lumber camps and mining areas. It was surrounded by mountains, the air clear and invigorating. It was a clean and attractive little place, the site of a State University.

We held street meetings on one of the principal corners and drew large crowds, mainly the migratory workers who flocked in and out of town. We had rented as an IWW hall a large roomy space in the basement of the leading theater and were rapidly recruiting members into the organization. The storekeepers objected to our meetings, especially the employment agencies, which we attacked mercilessly. Under their pressure the City Council passed an ordinance making street speaking unlawful. We decided to defy this ordinance as unconstitutional, a violation of the First Amendment guaranteeing freedom of speech. Only five or six of us were in town at that time. One was Frank Little, who was lynched in Butte, Montana, eight years later, during World War I. When we tried to hold meetings, two were arrested the first night and dismissed with a warning not to speak again. Four were arrested the second night, including my husband Jones, Frank Little and a stranger to us, Herman Tucker. He was employed by the U. S. Forestry Department which had an office in a building overlooking the corner. He rushed downstairs when he saw a young logger dragged off the platform for attempting to read the Declaration of Independence. Tucker took it over, jumped on the platform and continued to read until he was arrested. (A few years later this young man, an aviator of World War I, lost his life in San Francisco Bay while distributing “Hands Off Russia” leaflets from the air over the city.) Our Missoula free speechers were sentenced to 15 days in the county jail. Those of us who were left planned the mass tactics which were advocated in free speech fights, of which Missoula was one of the first examples.

We sent out a call to all “foot-loose rebels to come at once – to defend the Bill of Rights.” A steady stream of IWW members began to flock in, by freight cars – on top, inside and below. As soon as one speaker was arrested, another took his place. The jail was soon filled and the cell under the firehouse was turned into an additional jail. The excrement from the horses leaked through and made this place so unbearable that the IWW prisoners protested by song and speech, night and day. They were directly across the street from the city’s main hotel and the guests complained of the uproar. The court was nearby and its proceedings were disrupted by the noise. People came to listen to the hubbub, until finally all IWWs were taken back to the county jail.

The fire department turned the hose on one of the meetings, but the townspeople protested vigorously against this after several people were hurt. College professors at the university took up the cudgels for free speech, especially when another woman, Mrs. Edith Frenette, and I were arrested. We were treated with kid gloves by the sheriff and his wife, although my husband had been badly beaten up in the jail by this same Sheriff Graham. Senator La Follette spoke at a public forum in the theater over our hall. One of our members gave him a copy of a fighting paper defending our struggle, the Montana Socialist, published by a woman, Mrs. Hazlett, in Helena, Montana. He made a favorable comment in his speech. Butte Miners Union No. 1, the biggest local in Montana, passed a strong resolution condemning the local officials for “an un-American and unjust action in preventing men and women from speaking on the streets of Missoula” and commending “our gallant fight for free speech.” They sent it to the Missoula papers, stating that my arrest had caused them to investigate the matter and adopt the resolution.

There were some humorous aspects to our efforts. Not all the IWW workers were speakers. Some suffered from stage fright. We gave them copies of the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence. They would read along slowly, with one eye hopefully on the cop, fearful that they would finish before he would arrest them. One man was being escorted to jail, about two blocks away, when a couple of drunks got into a pitched battle. The cop dropped him to arrest them. When they arrived at the jail, the big strapping IWW was tagging along behind. The cop said in surprise: “What are you doing here?” The prisoner retorted: “What do you want me to do – go back there and make another speech?”

Eventually, the townspeople got tired of the unfavorable publicity and excitement. The taxpayers were complaining of the cost to the little city, demanding it be reduced. An amusing tussle then ensued between the IWW and the authorities as to who should feed our army. We held our meeting early so the men would go to jail before supper. The police began to turn them out the next morning before breakfast, forcing us to provide rations for the day. Finally, the men refused to leave the jail although the door was thrown wide open. They had been arrested. They demanded a trial, and individual trials and jury trials at that! At last one man “broke solidarity.” He was married and he sneaked out to see his wife. But when he returned the door was locked. He clamored to get in – he did not want his fellow workers to think he was a quitter. The cop said: “You’re out. Now stay out!” The townsfolk gathered around and roared with laughter.

Finally, the authorities gave up. All cases were dropped, and we were allowed to resume our meetings. We returned to our peaceful pursuit of agitating and organizing the IWW. I liked Missoula and hated to leave. The distant purple mountains seemed close at hand. The air was clear and invigorating. Our second IWW hall was a small cabin on the river bank. We used the front room for an office and had a bedroom and kitchen in the back. When Jones went out to the camps, a daughter of one of the college professors stayed with me. I could never hear enough of the life and adventure of the lumberjacks and miners who dropped in regularly. But Spokane called me to their free speech fight. “When loud and clear the call I hear, I must arise and go!” I went in December 1909, although I was again pregnant. I expected Jones would come later.

FAMILY DROWNS WHEN AUTO DIVES INTO RIVER

FATHER, MOTHER AND CHILD LOST; FOUR ORPHANED

Mr. and Mrs. M. S. Kupilik Go Under When Car Slips Over Bank

F. J. STICKNEY RISKS LIFE TO SAVE BABY

Farmer Plunges in Freezing Water and Rescues Youngest

M. S. Kupilik, 1203 Cooper street, his wife and Frank, their six-year-old son, were drowned in the Missoula river at 4 o’clock yesterday afternoon when the automobile in which they and four other children of the family were taking a Sunday outing, slipped down the muddy embankment of the Orchard Homes road, just west of the county bridge.

Two of the Kupilik boys got out of the machine before it plunged into the swollen river; a third was pulled out before the current had swept him away, and a three-year-old baby of the family was rescued almost half a mile down the river by F. J. Stickney, a young farmer, who waded half way across the swift, icy stream, in water to his neck, to reach the child.

Stickney Risks Life Twice.

Though chilled to the bone and soaking wet, Stickney ran downstream after the rescue and plunged in again to save the father, whose body he could see out in midstream. By risking drowning he was able to bring the man to shore, but all efforts to revive Kupilik were futile.

The current swept Mrs. Kupilik’s body beyond Stickney’s reach, and the missing child was not seen after the accident. Neither body had been recovered last night, but a search will be made today.

Kupilik was a master mechanic in the big refinery of the Great Western Sugar company here.

Tried to Turn Machine.

Kupilik, according to Charles, his 16-year-old and eldest son, had started west down the river-bank road from the south end of the county bridge, just at the western outskirts of Missoula. The machine had not gone a quarter of a mile when the mud, which is uncommonly deep as a result of the recent warm rains, discouraged the driver. Kupilik decided to turn around.

Brakes Did Not Work in Mud.

Charles got out of the machine, while his father backed toward the river.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said afterward. “The motor seemed to stick, then the car jumped back and before father could stop it it had gone too far. The bank was muddy, and the brakes wouldn’t hold. The machine slid over into the river.”

Driver Had Only One Arm.

Kupilik had only one arm, and it may be that he could not handle the car fast enough. At any rate, it slid down the slippery bank and into the river before any of the family, save Fred, 10 years old, could jump out.

One Boy Saved Quickly.

The water there is deep and swift, especially so since the rains of this month, which have brought the river up nearly two feet. The machine sank completely out of sight.

Charles and Fred, standing on the bank, shouted frantically for help, and H. A. Balfour, who lives nearby, and a Japanese who was driving down the road came up in time to save eight-year-old Henry by holding a pole out to him. The others, though, were snatched away by the rushing water and carried swiftly down stream.

Stickney Hears Shouts

F. J. Stickney, whose farm is nearly half a mile below the point where the machine left the road, heard the boy’s shouts.

“I was out in the shed, working,” he said after the accident, as he stood shivering in his wet clothes beside a stove. “I looked up the river and saw people threshing around in the water. I thought that perhaps some boys had been trying to ride down the river on a log and had been thrown off. So I ran down to the shore.”

Almost Beyond Depth.

Near Stickney’s place is a “riffle,” a shallow, widening of the river. Stickney plunged into the ice water and waded out into the stream in time to intercept the body of the little boy, though he had almost to go beyond his depth to make the rescue. He struggled to shore as fast as he could against the powerful current with the unconscious child in his arms.

Peter C. Cullen, a teacher who lives near Stickney, met the rescuer on the shore. He knew first aid well enough to force the water out of the child’s lungs and restore breathing. Then he carried the baby to the Stickney house, where it was revived.

Stickney meanwhile had rushed down the river to another “riffle.”

“These mackinaw pants of mine were so heavy, or I could have gone faster,” he said apologetically, as he told his story.

He waded out again and this time caught the father’s body and carried it to shore. Kupilik was quite dead, however. Volunteers worked over him until Chief Peter Loffnes and Claire Kern, of the fire department, who had been called by telephone, arrived with the city’s new lungmotor, but without avail. The firemen, who were on the scene within a few minutes after the accident, worked for a long time, but failed to revive the man.

Stickney tried to save the mother’s body but the current carried it so swiftly that he could not keep up.

Children Cared for by Green.

Little Oscar, the three-year-old, was taken to the hospital by Dr. F. D. Pease, who with Dr. J. J. Flynn, came quickly out to the place of the accident. There he was gaining strength last night and was said to be out of danger.

The three other children were brought to the city by Sheriff James Green and put in Mrs. Green’s charge at the county jail. Charles alone seemed old enough to understand the tragedy of their situation. The others for the moment forgot their fear when Mrs. Green gave them hot food and mothered them.

“Frank Isn’t Here.”

“Frank isn’t here,” they said, not knowing apparently that their brother was dead.

Not even Charles knew until long after the accident that his father was drowned. He helped work over the baby after hearing that Kupilik had been taken out of the stream.

“How’s father doing? All Right?” he asked Chief of Police Tom Kemp and Constable Sam Pulliam as they came back from the point of Stickney’s second plunge.

No Relatives Anywhere.

When he learned that his father, too, had been lost he broke down and sobbed bitterly. He alone of the four understood that father, mother and brother had really been drowned. And he alone appreciated the fact that the four orphans have not a relative upon whom to depend. Both Kupilik and his wife came from Austria 15 or 20 years ago. They have no relatives in this country and perhaps none in the old country, which is in any case cut off by the war. F. A. Wilson, manager of the Great Western plant, said last night that Mrs. Kupilik’s father was the only relative of which anyone knew and that the daughter had not heard from him in a year.

Long in Refiner’s Employ.

M. S. Kupilik had been in the employ of the Great Western Sugar company for 10 or 12 years. He came to Missoula last March to assist in the construction of the plant here, and since then had been master mechanic of the big refinery. For a year before that he had served in a similar capacity in Lovell, Wyo., and before then had been assistant master mechanic in the company’s plant in Billings.

“He was one of our best employes,” said Mr. Wilson last night. “He was a skilled and trusted man.”

No arrangements have been made for the funeral, and none will be until an effort has been made to recover the missing bodies. Manager Wilson said last night that searching parties would be sent down along the river today.

Road Runs Near River.

The road where the accident happened skirts the river running along a graded bank which is only three or four feet above the water when the river is as high as it is now. It is a wide road, and there is no railing along the shore. A few rods west of where the accident happened is a long stretch of rock-filled cribbing over which an automobile could not go, unless propelled at a terrific speed.

The above article appeared in The Daily Missoulian, December 31, 1917

[Fifty-year old Fred J. Stickney and his wife Faye Stickney lived on River Road in Missoula in 1940. They were parents of 4 children, Warren, Arwood, Hazel and Richard.]

The story of 99 year-old Oscar Kupilik – the three-year- old rescued by Fred Stickney in 1917 – appeared in an obituary for him in 2013.

In Memory of

Oscar W. “Bill” Kupilik

June 8, 1914 – April 1, 2013

Obituary

Oscar William “Bill” Kupilik 8 June 1914 – 1 April 2013

Oscar William “Bill” Kupilik was born on June 8th, 1914 in Billings, Montana to Matthew and Anna Kupilik, immigrants from Austria. Bill’s parents and brother Frank were killed in 1917 when their car slid into the Clark Fork River in Missoula, Montana. Bill, who was two years old, was taken in by the Quinn Family in Missoula. Unfortunately, Mrs. Quinn died in the flu epidemic in 1923 and Bill was sent to the Loyola Catholic Orphanage in Missoula where he joined his brothers Henry and Frederick.

He stayed at the orphanage until the late 1920’s when the oldest brother Charles and his wife Anna, took Bill out of the orphanage to live with them in Scottsbluff, Nebraska. He attended and graduated from Scottsbluff High School in 1932.

Bill had planned and saved to go to college and major in chemistry; however, the crash of 1929 and the ensuing depression make that impossible. So after high school, Bill joined the U.S Navy. He served aboard a destroyer off the coast of Alaska and was discharged in San Diego about 1937.

Although, San Diego was to become Bill’s home for the rest of his life, he still had, and kept, deep roots in Nebraska and in the Rocky Mountains of Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. While in the Navy he took his leaves in this area. It was there and at this time that he met the true love of his life, Nell Coffin. They were to become life mates. The bond between the two was incredibly deep and lasting. They were married in the late 1930’s and made San Diego their home.

Bill took a job with Ryan Aeronautical where with his innate intelligence, his continuing study at college night classes and on the job experience he quickly rose to become a top manager. One of his most notable assignments was as Project Manager for the Ryan Firebee. This was one of the first and arguably the most successful production drone in the aircraft industry at the time. Bill retired from Ryan in 1978.

In 1960, while Bill was working at Ryan, a fellow manager Howard Craig, introduced Bill to Chuck Buck, who was interested in incorporating a business, Buck Knives. Bill was interested and helped to form the corporation as a founding stockholder and as one of the first members of the Board of Directors. Bill was active on the Board into the 21st century.

Bill maintained his connection to the Rocky Mountain West with summer vacations taken with his brothers in Yellowstone Park and other parts of Wyoming, Colorado and Montana. Bill wanted a cabin in the mountains where he and Nell could spend summers during their retirement. After much searching they found a perfect piece of property on Union Pass near Dubois, Wyoming and started building their dream cabin in 1974.

Sadly, just about the time they were finishing up the cabin, Nell was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Bill was to care for Nell every day for the rest of her life. She died on January 1st 1998.

Bill is survived by his nieces and nephews: Margret Kupilik; Frederick Kupilik and his wife Georgie; Arloa Kupilik, wife of nephew Charles; Carol Halsey and her husband Jerry; Michael Kupilik and his wife Alice; many great nephews and nieces and an increasing number of great great nephews and nieces. He also leaves behind many, many friends.

He was a wonderful man who was always happy, always positive. He was very devout and a long time, active member of St. Agnes Parish. He loved his church.

He will be missed.

Former school board member recalls the pain of shutting down other Missoula schools

By Gary Jahrig of the Missoulian

Mar 1, 1999

When Irene Hiller hears about the abuse being directed at trustees over their decision to close schools in the Missoula County Public Schools District, she thinks of her answering machine.

“I had to buy an answering machine for my telephone because I had young children and I didn’t want them answering the harassing phone calls I was getting,” said Hiller, who served on the Missoula School District 1 elementary board from 1976 to 1991.

During Hiller’s 15 years on the board, trustees elected to shut down four elementary schools in Missoula. She knows full well how heated and passionate people can become when their neighborhood school is threatened.

People were coming out to meetings then, too,” said Hiller. “I remember people getting very angry. I really do sympathize with the board now. Regardless which side you vote on, you make somebody unhappy.”

Anyone who thinks last week’s decision to close three schools over the next three years marks the beginning of a new era in Missoula education is sadly mistaken. Missoulians have been forced to deal with the closure of four neighborhood schools in the past 20 years alone.

The last school to close in Missoula was Willard School in 1990. In 1985, trustees shut down Jefferson and Whittier schools. Central School was cleared of students in 1979.

District 1 trustees also tried to close Lowell School in 1976, a move that first prompted Hiller to run for school board.

“That was one of the reasons I first ran was that they were closing Lowell School,” Hiller said. “I thought the board decision was the wrong one to make.”

A “grass-roots” effort to unseat three incumbents in the 1976 election proved successful, Hiller said, as she and two other newcomers to the board were elected. The new board soon reversed the decision of the old board and Lowell School never missed a beat.

“It was only ever closed on paper,” she said. “It never really shut down.”

When it came time to shut down other facilities, Hiller said she voted with the majority in favor of closure.

Central School was closed because it was an outdated facility and students were moved to the new Mount Jumbo School in East Missoula.

Hiller said Jefferson School was closed because of a low student population in an area that was becoming more commercial.

“For program purposes, we needed to do some consolidation,” she said. “We were dealing with extremely low class sizes. We were not able to provide kids with a good education.”

Whittier got a little testier, Hiller said, because it was in an old established neighborhood on Missoula’s North Side.

Mike Kupilik, the current MCPS Board chairman, didn’t become a trustee until three years after Jefferson and Whittier were closed. But he remembers full well the fallout from the closure of the schools, particularly Whittier. Kupilik said former District 1 Superintendent Jake Block absorbed a great deal of criticism over the Whittier closure.

“There’s still people to this day who spit on the ground whenever Jake Block’s name is mentioned over the Whittier School closure,” Kupilik said. “They argued it was a class motivated thing. There’s still people upset over Whittier.

Kupilik was on board, however, when trustees decided to shut down Willard School in 1990. He said the closure of Willard wasn’t nearly as controversial as this year’s decision to close Roosevelt School next fall.

“It wasn’t contentious at all,” Kupilik said. “A couple of people said it wasn’t a good idea, but that was about it.”

The building was badly outdated and in disrepair, Kupilik said, adding that trustees agreed to keep Willard as a neighborhood center and maintain the playground for area youngsters.

Larry Johnson, the current MCPS assistant superintendent, served as business manager for District 1 when Willard School was closed. Johnson also doesn’t remember much of a battle surrounding the Willard closure.

“With Willard it wasn’t anything like it is now,” Johnson said.

But Johnson said school officials back then only moved an entire neighborhood of kids three blocks to Roosevelt School. He also said there is more opportunity to sound off now as MCPS officials have made an effort to make the budgeting process more public.

“We offer so many more public meetings now that certainly from the opponents’ perspective, it gives them more opportunities to express themselves,” Johnson said.

Kupilik believes the Roosevelt School closure has been more contentious because it is located only a few blocks from Willard, making it the second school in the same neighborhood to close in the past nine years.

Hiller, who lives in the Willard and Roosevelt area, also thinks the two most recent school closings have little in common.

“What they are experiencing now is entirely different than what we looked at back then,” Hiller said. “Our viewpoint then was to simply offer a better educational opportunity. It’s simply monetary now.”

While Hiller admits she does “miss the opportunity to get in a good fight” once in awhile, she really doesn’t mind being on the sidelines for the latest school closure battle.

“I admire people who run for school board. It takes a lot of courage, a lot of time and a lot of family support,” she said.

And Hiller is also quick to offer advice to her successors on the board.

“The only thing I can say is that they need to be able to honestly live with the decision they are making,” Hiller said. “If they have the least bit of doubt that what they are doing is wrong, put it on the burner and deal with it. … The only right decision is the one that is best for the children of Missoula.”

Monday – 3/1/99

Updated Dickerman Family – Miller Creek, Missoula – 1920

C. E. ‘Roy’ Dickerman and Marguerite Sieverts Berry Gilder

Married 1919 in Missoula

Parents of:

Richard M. Gilder – born 1911 – St. Regis, Mt

Charles S. Gilder – born 1912 – Missoula, Mt

Agnes Alice Gilder Smith – born 1914 – Bonner, Mt

Margarette Augusta Gilder Maclay – born 1915 – Mullan, Id

Clarence Elroy Dickerman – born 1920 – Missoula, Mt

Myra Ruth Dickerman Ladwig – born 1922 – Missoula, Mt

Lois Irene Dickerman Hames – born 1924 – Missoula, Mt

Jessie Lamar Dickerman – born 1925 – Missoula, Mt

Marguerite was born in Bozeman, Mt in 1884 and came with her mother, stepfather and 2 sisters to the Missoula/Lolo/Florence area in 1899. With her sister, Agnes, she attended the University of Montana – class of 1908 – and obtained a Montana teaching certificate. She taught in several places in Western Montana, including Augusta, Drummond and St. Regis. She was teaching in St. Regis at the time of the huge 1910 fire and was evacuated via a boxcar. She married Charles M. Gilder of Colfax, Washington in 1910 in Wallace, Idaho and moved after that to Missoula and then to Mullan, Idaho. Her husband, a Spanish American War Vet., was killed in an industrial accident in Mullan, Idaho in 1916, leaving her with 4 small children. She then moved back to Missoula where her mother and 2 sisters lived. She purchased property in the Miller Creek area, and married Clarence ‘Roy’ Dickerman in 1919 in Missoula. After having 4 children with her first husband, Charles M. Gilder, she subsequently had 4 more with Clarence Dickerman. The family operated a small dairy at their home in Miller Creek while raising their eight children. They delivered milk to the fort and south side of Missoula. She had been active in local 4H and taught for a time at Cold Springs School. Marguerite died in 1934 after a long illness. A sister, Agnes Lauber, then assisted in caring for their younger children.  Clarence ‘Roy’ Dickerman was born in Wisconsin in 1884 and died in Missoula in 1973.

As with many families from that era the dedication, perseverance and strength of these hardy souls is astounding. After surviving the devastating loss of her husband in Idaho, Marguerite found a new life in Missoula with the gentle and cordial, Roy ‘Pops’ Dickerman. It could not have been easy.

Compiled by Don Gilder – 2016

A Double Wedding

Missoula, August 11. – Judge Hayes performed a very interesting ceremony this evening, when he presided at a double wedding in the parlors of the Schilling block, on West Front street. He united in marriage Frederick O. Salmon and May Williams, and Henry G. Collett and Susie Young. The contracting parties are well known to the patrons of the Gem, being artists of the house. They will continue to make Missoula their home for the present. Mr. and Mrs. Collett are not what would be called a model couple, as the groom is a short, slight built man, while the bride is a 200-pounder.

[The above article appeared in the newspaper The Anaconda Standard – Aug 12, 1900.]

Notice of Dissolution

Notice is hereby given that the firm of Cobban and Dinsmore is this day dissolved by mutual consent.

R. M. Cobban continuing in the real estate business and in the management of the Orchard Homes Nos. 1 and 2, and of the Higgins block, assuming all bills connected therewith.

Samuel Dinsmore also continuing in the real estate business and in the management of the Bitter Root Orchard company, the Cobban and Dinsmore Orchard Homes No. 3 and the Morrison & Dorman ranch, assuming all bills therewith connected.

The said dissolution is found necessary on account of the diversified interests of said firm, and is made with the kindest of feelings between the parties thereto.

R. M. Cobban

Samuel Dinsmore.

Dated at Missoula, Mont., Aug. 13, 1900.

[The above notice appeared in the newspaper The Anaconda Standard – September 9, 1900]

READY FOR FALL TERM [1900]

Superintendent Hamilton Assigns Teachers in Schools.

CLASSES GATHER MONDAY

The Faculty Is the Same as Last Year With Two Exceptions – Teachers Hold a Meeting on Saturday

Missoula, Sept. 8 – Superintendent Hamilton of the public schools of Missoula announces the assignment of teachers as follows:

Central school building – Eighth grade, Grace Herndon; seventh grade, A. Helen Cramer; seventh grade, B. Mary McBride; sixth grade, Amanda Loftness; fifth grade, Ethel Grant; fourth grade, Mittie Shoup; third grade, Fanny Robinson; second grade, Mary Sloane, first grade, Lillian Phelps.

South side building – Eighth grade, Bertha Cushing; fifth and sixth grades, Eva Totman; third and fourth grades, Anna Trevaille; first and second grades, Kate Shelly.

North side building – Fifth and sixth grades, Zoe Bellew; third and fourth grades, Jessie McKellar; second grade, Elsie Reinhard; first grade, Ida Keup.

East side building – Third and fourth grades, Pearl Marshall*; first and second grades, Katharine Gharrett.

The schools will open Monday. The teachers held a meeting this afternoon in the office of Superintendent Hamilton in the Central building and matters pertaining to the opening of the schools were talked over. The meeting was a joyful one, for it was a meeting of those who have not seen each other since leaving the city after the closing of the schools.

Miss Cramer and Miss Marshall are the only new teachers appointed this year.

*Pearl Marshall later became the Missoula County Superintendent of Schools.

[The above article appeared in the newspaper The Anaconda Standard – Sept 9, 1900. Superintendent Hamilton was a unique Montana figure in many ways. He was the author of a study of the early Montana, a legislator,  and later became the president of Montana State University in Bozeman. For more information on James Hamilton see the link below:]

http://oldmissoula.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=48:forward-to-qfrom-wilderness-to-statehoodq-written-by-a-l-strand&catid=17:missoula-people&Itemid=3

The Engineering and Mining Journal – July 13, 1901

Western Montana Placer Mining Company – This company is working the Bessie M. dredger near Martina*. The machinery is supported on a double boat 70 by 30 ft. in size, and has a capacity of 2,000 cu. yds. In 24 hours. Three shifts of 2 men each are engaged, with a dredging superintendent, Edward Blockley, and a fuel man, C. S. Crysler, the general manager and treasurer of the company. The plant in working order stands for an outlay of about $40,000.

In addition to the dredge the company has a large hydraulic mining plant, in charge of M. S. Cook. A flume 3,800 ft. long conveys the water from a reservoir. Besides the placer workings on Nine Mile Creek the company owns the Lo Lo quartz mine near Lo Lo, on which about $20,000 has been spent in development work.

*The information below is taken from Don Bert Omundson’s 1961 thesis titled, “Study of Place Names in Missoula County, Montana.”

Martina TI7N R2iiWo Abandoned gold camp on Ninemile Creek 16 miles N.W. of Nine Mile Ranger Station. The name was taken from the San Martina Gold Mining and Reduction Company which belonged to the H. L.  Frank estate in Butte. The original gold camp, Old Town, was vacated and moved to this site when Patrick McElligott (the informant’s father) and his partner struck gold e. of Mattie V, Creek. (Patrick McElligott)