‘Pulitzer Prize’ Winner A. B. “Bud” Guthrie Jr. Knocks Missoula and Leslie Fiedler

Dam Foolishness

Author Pokes at Pork Barrel by Jim Crane

Montana and Missoula have a strong admirer and detractor in A. B. (Bud) Guthrie Jr.

“Though I dislike the snow and I wish they’d clean up this town, I choose to live in Montana,” says the state’s author-in-residence.

Guthrie, a 1950 Pulitzer Prize winner, has lived the past two winters with his sister, Mrs. Jane Haugen of 306 Agnes Ave. [Missoula]

Summers are spent at his cabin west of Choteau. He has 800 acres there. “It’s worthless, but it’s mine,” he’ll tell you.

His years of critical reading as a city editor on the Lexington (Ky.) Leader show through when Guthrie talks of his craft. Gerundives, sentence diagramming, all the abused tools of grammar that schoolboys and cub reporters curse flow easily in talk with the author of “The Big Sky,” “The Way West” and other books.

“The only thing I miss about not being a newspaperman,” Guthrie says, “is the sense of a community,” the feeling of the pulse of a town that makes newsmen insiders in community activities. He figures the 22 years he spent on newspapers are sufficient for him. “Once in a while I write letters to the editor.”

The 66-year-old Montana native hasn’t retired, though. Since publication of his autobiographical “Blue Hen’s Chick,” he’s written several short articles for magazines such as Saturday Review and Esquire.

Now he’s working on a play about George Rogers Clark, “unsung hero of the Revolution” and brother of Louisiana Purchase explorer William Clark.

Next fall he hopes to start a novel about Montana between 1885 and the beginning of World War I. Emphasis will be on the political fight between William A. Clark and Marcus Daly and their purchases of newspapers and newspapermen.

He’s an outspoken critic of “Board of Commerce promotions,” the Bureau of Reclamation and Corps of Engineers.

Promotion of a town for industrial growth often is spurred by the theory that a broadened tax base will result in lower taxes. “I’ve never seen taxes go down,” as a result of increased industrialization, Guthrie contends. The whole theory gives him “sour amusement.”

The Corps of Engineers and the Bureau of Reclamation are “the strong right arm of the pork barrel in Congress,” he says. “I became disillusioned with both in 1952.”

Guthrie and Lewis and Clark historian Bernard De Voto were given the cook’s tour of the Missouri River from Fort Peck to Kansas City in 1951.

“The very biggest brass” told them that rivers should be harnessed for use and for protection. The government officials pointed proudly to channel work around Kansas City as an example.

“The very next year Kansas City had the worst flood in its history.”

Now flood-worried persons on the Sun River drainage are expecting construction of a multi-purpose dam to help existing Gibson Dam protect downstream areas.

“My God. Will they never learn?”

Downtown blight partly is the fault of chambers of commerce and newspapers, Guthrie says. Great Falls is a prime example. “It got to be embarrassing for a woman to walk from the Rainbow Hotel to the Civic Center” – a distance of about three blocks.

The slums and skid row had already taken over part of the city. “A good newspaper would never stand for that.”

(Urban renewal, prompted in part by the Great Falls newspaper, has since cleaned up part of the section.)

 

The above article (accompanied by a photo of Guthrie) appeared in The Sunday Missoulian on May 14, 1967.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/349974626/

 

This article failed to mention that Guthrie lived in Missoula long before that. He graduated in journalism from U of M in 1923. A short biography for him appears at the link below:

https://mhs.mt.gov/Portals/11/education/Montanans/ABGuthrie.pdf

 

The Missoulian article did mention Guthrie’s penchant for writing letters to the newspaper. One of his letters blasted a former Missoulian, U of M professor (and controversial author) Leslie Fiedler. The letter appears below:

“Not Forgiven”

“Though I seldom have agreed with Leslie Fiedler and, indeed, have been infuriated with him, his troubles give me, not rejoicing, but profound depression.

“I do not presume to prejudge the case; but the very fact of his giving occasion for arrest hurts the entire intellectual community.

“The anti-intellectuals, the knucklheads (sic), will ride high now, making his case the damnation of all thought that opposed conformity.

“I cannot forgive him. No shall I forgive them. – A. B. Guthrie Jr. 306 Agnes Ave., Missoula.”

 

The Guthrie letter appeared in The Missoulian on May 10, 1967.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/349973132/

 

Controversial does not begin to describe Leslie Fiedler’s tenure at U of M in Missoula. A nationally known literary critic, he delighted in criticizing long held beliefs and opinions, especially regarding the “codes” of the west. He was at U of M from 1941 to 1964, excluding his military service during WW2. He resigned his U of M position in 1964 and moved to the State University at Buffalo, New York. In 1967 he was arrested in Buffalo for maintaining property where narcotics were allegedly used. Charges against him were eventually dismissed.

Missoula County Teacher’s Contest – 1895

Teacher’s Contest 1895

Successful Teachers.

The Misses Robinson, Sloane and Foote Head The List In The Above Order.

The Contest a Grand Success From Beginning To End – 47,000 Votes Were Cast For The Different Candidates.

Promptly at 2:30 o’clock yesterday afternoon a committee was selected to count the votes in the teacher’s contest consisting of Mrs. D. H. R. Dufresne, Gus Moser, and C. F. Judson. They then began their arduous task which was not completed until 4:30 p. m. The total number of votes cast reached the astonishing figure of 47,023. Miss Frances Robinson leads all her competitors by nearly 2,000 votes, winning the first prize with 7,362 votes to her credit. Miss Sloane comes next and wins the second prize with 5,534 while Miss Foote captures the third prize with 5,078 to her credit. Miss Spurgin and Miss Catlin are the next highest with 4,431 and 4,222 votes respectively.

The successful candidates are requested to call at this office and receive their orders for the prizes. They have the privilege of choosing from any of the different stores one of the many displays offered during the contest.

Every one could not win a prize and consequently there will be some disappointment among the defeated candidates. Yet they will all have the satisfaction of knowing that they have many friends in the city by the large number of votes cast for them. The vote complete, as signed by the judges is as follows:

Teachers – Votes

Miss Hattie Hord 3430

Miss Francis Robinson 7362

Miss M. E. Sloane 5534

Miss Minnie Spurgin 4431

Miss Marian Foote 5078

Miss Mabel Bolles 2906

Miss Ella Switzer 2652

Miss Sadie Catlin 4222

Miss Bee Thornton 2612

Miss Ida Keup [Kemp] 1514

Mrs. E. C. Knight 1332

Miss Edna Gorham 1246

Mr. Henry Amiraux 981

Emily Blanchard 720

Miss Rose Cronican 411

Miss Lillian Phelps 495

Miss Nellie Boyd 499

Miss Julia Duncan 266

Mrs. Ed Weyman 261

Miss Sarah Duncan 248

Miss Alla Gwin 199

Miss Kate Shelley 189

Miss Millie Keup [Kemp] 176

Miss Jessie Kenyon 169

J. M. Duffy 60

Prof. W. E. Nippert 39

The above article appeared in The Daily Missoulian on December 4, 1895.

The Teacher contest was sponsored by The Daily Missoulian newspaper. Ballots appeared in the newspaper every day from early September through December 1, 1895. Depending on the type of subscription the voter had purchased, they were entitled to as many as 300 votes. Teachers from as far away as Heron, Plains and Thompson Falls were included. Some of the Teacher’s districts that are more or less unrecognizable today included Carlton, Pattee, Gloude, Big Flat, Big Bend, and O’Keefe. A Missoulian subscription cost $6.00 per year if delivered by carrier, or $5.00 per year by mail.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/348464332/?terms=%22teacher%2Bcontest%22

Prizes:

https://www.newspapers.com/image/348461877/?terms=%22contest%22

“Dangerous Days” – Fearless Little Louis Van Dorn Killed at Butte – Missoula River Drownings – Hezekiah Van Dorn and Mark Twain

Dangerous Days – Fearless Little Louis Van Dorn Killed in Butte – Missoula River Drownings.

Tramped To Death.

Louis Van Dorn Thrown From a Horse and Fatally Crushed Under His Feet.

A sad accident occurred at the race track Sunday afternoon which resulted in the death of Louis Van Dorn at six o’clock yesterday morning. About four o’clock Sunday afternoon a son of J. H. Butler arrived at the race track riding a high spirited animal. When he dismounted young Van Dorn vaulted into the saddle. A young colored boy, who is a trainer and rider employed at the track, jumped on to the horse behind Van Dorn which frightened the animal and caused him to rear and plunge, until both riders were thrown violently to the ground. The colored boy was unhurt but Van Dorn fell under the horse’s feet, which came down upon his chest with terrible force crushing in his chest and injuring his neck and shoulder. The little fellow was picked up and taken to one of the stables where everything possible was done for his comfort. Medical aid was immediately summoned but the physician pronounced the case hopeless from the first. Van Dorn was 17 years of age and was known as a fearless rider and a boy of phenomenal nerve. His parents are among the earliest settlers of Missoula County, his mother being an Indian woman. When he was twelve years of age he met with an accident while gunning by which a rifle bullet was sent through both hips. He was alone at the time and evinced remarkable nerve and fortitude in bearing the pain of the terrible wound until assistance came. The shock to his nervous system stunted his growth and at seventeen years of age he was no heavier when he died, than at the age of twelve. He came here to groom Mr. Williams’ horses and was in charge of them when the accident occurred. The remains were buried in the cemetery yesterday afternoon.

The above article appeared in The Semi-Weekly Miner of Butte, Montana on July 4, 1883.

Louis was the son of Hezekiah Van Dorn. See more on him below.

 

Another article on the same page of this newspaper told of a death and accidents that had recently occurred in the Missoula River and the nearby Rattlesnake flume:

Missoula is having an epidemic of accidents in its roaring Hell Gate river. Not long since the drowning of Tim Libeau and his son George was chronicled, more recently the death of young Engineer Mitchell occurred in the same stream. Last Monday the three-year-old daughter of Samuel Bellew fell into the mill ditch and was rescued with difficulty. On Wednesday a five-year-old son of Mrs. Stewart fell into the flume and was shot through the narrow passage over Rattlesnake Hill, being nearly killed by striking against the sides.

 

The above article appeared in The Semi-Weekly Miner of Butte, Montana on July 4, 1883.

 

Hezekiah Van Dorn Dies Suddenly at His Home. (1903)

Was A Pioneer Gold Hunter

Spent Much of His Life in Stirring Scenes and Witnessed a Famous Lynching.

Hezekiah Van Dorn died suddenly at his ranch home on Miller creek yesterday morning. With the passing of Mr. Van Dorn one more of the sturdy characters of ’49 has fallen from the ranks of the western pioneers.

Of his 80 years of life 54 years were spent in the west, and 44 years in the vicinity of Missoula.

Born at Covington, Fountain county, Indiana, in 1823, Mr. Van Dorn was one of the fortune hunters who crossed the continent in 1849 and built his cabin in the placer fields of California. Following the fortunes of a placer miner he worked north along the Columbia river into Washington and in 1859 came to Montana from Walla Walla, Wash.

Engaged in Farming.

Here he engaged in farming in Grass valley, on land now owned by Gaspard Deschamps. Later he located a ranch on Miller creek, where he resided during his declining years.

Mr. Van Dorn leaves a wife and six grown children. One married daughter resides at Salmon City, Idaho; one son, Charles, at Clyde, Idaho, and the others are residents of Missoula.

It was at Mr. Van Dorn’s ranch in Grass valley that George Shears was hanged by the vigilantes in 1864. Shears was a member of the Plummer band of horsethieves and highwaymen, whom the vigilantes of Virginia City chased across the mountains into Missoula county, finally exterminating the band.

Story of Lynching.

Four of them, Cooper, Skinner, Zachery and Carter were caught at the old town of Hell Gate. Shears had stopped at Van Dorn’s place to rest and was taken out to the barn and hanged.

The barn was an unfinished structure and Shears was compelled to climb a ladder placed against it. A rope was thrown over a rafter and the outlaw asked if he should jump or slide off the ladder after the rope was placed on his neck. When told to please himself, he jumped.

In many ways Mr. Van Dorn’s life was closely connected with the early history of Missoula county and the pioneers who survive him express regret at his sudden leave-taking.

No funeral arrangements have been made.

 

The above obituary appeared in The Daily Missoulian on November 12, 1903.

 

A couple of things should be mentioned here. Although not mentioned in this obituary, Hezekiah was a friend of Mark Twain’s and actually traveled with him for a time in California. Twain mentioned him in his book, “Roughing It” (Chapter 37). Second, it does not appear that Twain made any attempt to visit with Hezekiah when he came to Missoula for a visit in the 1895.

‘Roughing It’ is available online at the link below:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3177/3177-h/3177-h.htm

“1920’s Dance Halls, Bands, and Origins of Jazz in Missoula” by Ed Erlandson and Richard K. O’Malley

Missoula’s 1920’s Dance Halls, Dance Bands, and the Origins of Jazz in Missoula – by Ed Erlandson and Richard K. O’Malley

Fancy footwork in the Garden City by Ed Erlandson

Recently a reader asked for information about Tokyo Gardens, a dance hall that attracted thousands of Missoula area residents during the 1920s and possibly the 1930s. To the best of my memory, which seems to be deteriorating with each passing year, that fun place was on the Missoula County Fairgrounds in a building which doubled as exhibition space during the annual fair.

I would like to hear from anyone (P.O. Box 545, Bigfork, Mont. 59911) with information about the Tokyo Gardens and also about names and personnel of the various bands that were playing through those decades.

I recall that during the ‘20s and ‘30s a popular place to dance on weekends was the Winter Garden dance hall in Greenough Park, on the east side of Rattlesnake Creek about 100 yards north of the Vine Street Bridge.

Also, in later years the Old Country Clubhouse on South Avenue East was used for quite a few seasons by Saturday night dancers as was the Casa Loma Clubhouse which was on South Avenue West near the fairgrounds.

Although the waltz and fox trot were the two old reliables during the period from 1920 to 1940, there were enough dance crazes sweeping through the nation to keep the older people shaking their heads and wisely proclaiming that the “younger generation most certainly was going to the dogs.”

Perhaps the most widely gyrated of these crazes was the Charleston, which took its name from the same city in South Carolina. There were those who suggested sternly that this dance might be hazardous to your health, threatening to your knees in the same context as what happens to tennis players who use their elbows to excess.

Even earlier was the dance introduced by Vernon and Irene Castle and logically called the Castle Walk. This was somewhat milder than the Charleston, but attracted quite a following.

Not to be outdone by Charleston, S.C., the British came up with a dance craze that spread to France and then hopped a liner to spread throughout big ballrooms of the United States. This was the Lambeth Walk, said to have originated as an imitation of the strutting residents of Lambeth, a London slum.

New York’s Harlem claimed responsibility for such footwork as performed in the Black Bottom, Truckin’ and the Suzie-Q, and even tried to get the nation’s eye with one called the Congeroo.

About 1937 a lively variation of the square dance gained considerable usage in ballrooms around the nation. This was called the Big Apple and required some dexterity of foot for jitter-buggers.

Mixed in with all of this were Latin dances made popular on the movie screen by such stars as George Raft and Carole Lombard. Who can forget the rhythm of the rumba, tango, conga, Carioca and mambo? And then there was the continental.

Dancing is a universal language – it makes the young mature and it makes the elderly young. I think Fred Astaire would back me up on that frenzied statement.

 

The above article appeared in the Missoulian on April 19, 1980.

 

Musical treats for happy feet by Ed Erlandson

The response to the April 19 column on dancing in the Missoula area indicates there was a lot of waltzing and fox trotting during the 1920s and 1930s.

Letters from Robert E. Jones, Myrtle Stone, Lavonna Keith Bachman, Fred Barthelmess, Ed Bebee and John Lannegrand of Missoula, Lucille Karkanen Wanderer of Philipsburg and Muggs Huff of Kalispell were of most help in bringing back places and names familiar to many old-time residents.

First, on the dance halls, the Wintergarden was in the 200 block of East Main Street in the Union Hall, and the Elite ballroom was at the west end of the 100 block of West Main across the street from the Missoula Hotel. Jones relayed information from LaMar “Mope” Dickinson that the Elite floor was set on springs to give the trippers of the light fantastic a little extra zip.

These two dance halls were used extensively during the winter months, while the Greenough Park Pavilion was jumping during the summer months. Tokyo Gardens in the fairgrounds provided dancing during the fairs.

Probably the best-remembered band playing for proms and other events in all these places as well as the Florence Hotel and other popular spots was that of the Sheridan brothers, Tom and Phil.[1] Members at various times included Maurice Driscoll, piano; Hal Hunt, trumpet; Clyde Hunt, trombone; Fred Ironside, bass; Herb Omsted, Mort Sullivan and Al Marineau, trombone; Lou Nichols, Claude Kiff, Bill Fewkes and Rozzie Young, saxophone, and Clay Crippen, banjo.

After the Sheridan brothers went to Great Falls and later to Spokane, other bands were formed here by those who had played for them.

Dickinson also played with the Sheridan band and later took over the organization after the brothers had died. Others in the band were Buck Stowe, drums and vocal (he later had his own band); Oliver Malm, piano; Doug Thomas, saxophone; Percy Willis, violin; Junior Dean, sax and clarinet; the Black brothers, guitar and trumpet, and George Bovingdon, trombone.

Lucille Wanderer recalls that she sang and did exhibition Charleston and hula dances with the Sheridan band and was billed as “Missoula’s Juvenile Star.” She said her career ended when the band moved to Great Falls and she was too young to accompany the group.

Tommy Meisinger had a great band in this area, and there were quite a few others, including Ben Oertil’s band from the Bitterroot; Les Smith playing at the Casa Loma out by the fairgrounds; the Melody Four of the Karkanens; Rocheleau’s Red Tops; Borcher Brothers; and the Ray Besancon Orchestra, which may have come ahead of the Sheridan band. Hal Hunt and others in the Sheridan band had their own orchestra in later years.

Muggs Huff recalled playing drums with the Rocheleau group when it came to Arlee and later playing with Hal Hunt when that orchestra opened the Gold Room in the University of Montana Student Union.

It was not uncommon for the younger set of Missoula to go to dances at many western Montana locations – Rockaway, PostCreek, Whispering Pines, Lolo Hot Springs and just about every town in this end of the state.

Literally and figuratively, they all had a ball.

 

The above article appeared in the Missoulian on May 17, 1980.

 

Story of Jazz And Its Start In This City

By Richard K. O’Malley.

It is a far cry from the blatant cacophony of one “Jazbo” Brown, negro trombone player of not so long ago, who baffled his listeners in the South’s river country, to the muted suavity of a Duke Ellington mood – and in that distance a bewildering change of technique and colloquialism has evolved.

“Jazbo,” who has been generally recognized as the father of dance music as it is played now, blew his horn in various Southland honky-tonks until, perhaps bored with the monotony of his own noises, he contrived to produce a series of caterwauls, wheezes and grunts from his instrument until he became the idol of his horn-playing contemporaries. Emulation followed “Jazbo” and with that emulation came the beginnings of dance rhythms as they are played today. From the colored sliphorn man’s first first (sic) name the term “Jazz” was derived, to denote the similarity in execution to his weird style.

Not a great while later a colored organization called “The Original Dixieland Jazz Band: – a cognomen covering a multitude of sins – journeyed northward to take that section of the country by storm. Up to that time the closest the North had to jazz was a faintly nasal hopscotch dance music called “ragtime.” Jazz and its accompanying jungle taint was feted and wooed by Northern dancers.

It was from that time onward that bands began adopting the jazz style until the welkin fairly rang with the gyrations of muted brass and throaty saxophone interpolations of dance music. In justice to truly modern music it may be said that at this stage of American musical development the distaste for jazz music found its basis. And not without reason; for in its infancy jazz was a thing both fearful and wonderful. Saxophones were generally regarded as instruments of torture, and in many cases when handled by jazz pioneers were not a great deal more than that.

Into the Parlor.

Slowly, but steady advance jazz discarded its tatters and tip-toed apologetically into the parlor – and with it came a revolution in the world of modern music.

Once dance music was called “ragtime,” later giving way to the more popular term, jazz, then onward to the present day when it is known as “hot” music. A trumpet player “played the cornet” until a dusky son of Ham named Louis Armstrong took his trumpet and ventured into the musical jungle to come back with an amazing number of runs, breaks and frumperies. Those who play as closely to his style as is possible- and it may be said that it is no small feat – are referred to as “Louie-men.” Mr. Armstrong defies musical theory and manages to squeeze unheard of high notes from his horn. He is the envy and frustration of many modern brass-men.

As for the catalogues of terms used by musicians and synonymous the “hot’ era, a beginning at the bottom reveals the drummer. He may be called “Percush” (a relic of the staid “percussionist), “Joe-rhythm,” or the “Hardware section.”

For him to play a fox trot at a smooth dance tempo is called “riding it.” If he increases his pace he may be either “swingin’ out a little” or “jigging it.” But if things get well under way and he takes undue liberty with his instruments he is “taking off.” Any member of a band who varies from the theme with a great number of interpolations or “hot” music is “taking off.”

A pianist is usually marked by reference by his ability at hand movement. For example, the statement, “Eddie’s oke but he hasn’t got any right hand,” doesn’t mean that Eddie has lost that member but that his bass, or rhythm, is weak. He may also be referred to as a “Hines” man, meaning he cuts a great many musical didoes in imitation of a well-known negro piano player. If he is termed “a good sweet man” it means he plays soothing melodies well but is not a “take off” man. “Sweet” men often capitalize on their soothing melodies, as in the case of the nationally-known Lombardo – a “sweet” band and more or less disliked by musicians who cater to the wild moods of “hot” music.

Musical Slang.

Any reference to “corny,” or “cornfed” or “out in the patch” designates any musician who plays an outmoded form of “hot” music. A man who plays jazz, using the term as it was used in the beginning, is “corny.” Unfortunately for a good many “hot” musicians, a number of present-day dance bands capitalize on their “corn.” Ted Lewis and his band still play jazz and are apparently greatly desired by the public, an evidence that “hot” music still has its enemies.

The term “breathless” applies to playing the saxophone (although it may be used for any wind instrument) describes a tone very similar to its name. “Breathless” attacks are used usually as a saxophone ensemble background, while another member of the band is “taking off.” Playing an instrument in a “hot” manner is called playing “dirt,” and if a “dirt-man” “swings out” during a tune he is “taking a lick chorus.” This usually entails many and varied digressions from the main theme and travels far and wide into the forest of musical experiment.

A gentleman earning his livelihood by playing the bass viol calls his instrument a “dog-house” and is known as a “dog-house,” or sometimes more formally, a bass-man. In other days when plucking a bass viol became popular he was known as a “slap-bass” player.

Sousaphone players are sometimes called “plumbers” – probably because of the great amount of tubing in the instrument. So far nothing more radical than “sax man” has been made out of the reed section. However, a clarinet player calls his instrument his “stick.” The violin still retains the homely title of “fiddle.”

“Joint” is an elastic term. A man may call his violin a “joint,” or he may refer to the name of a familiar tune as a “joint.” For instance, he may say to his horn-playing cohorts, “Let’s swing out on that Limehouse joint. I’ll take off in the middle, while you guys jam-up. I’ll be dog-eat-dog, up jig and jam out.” Which translated would be, “Play Limehouse Blues in a fast tempo. I’ll digress from the original theme while each of you follows along with his own interpretation. Every man for himself and play your own ending.”

Dance bands that cater to the more soft or less intricate melodies and are often known as “sticky” bands are held in more or less disregard by “hot” men.

History in Missoula.

“Hot” music in Missoula found its beginnings with Phil Sheridan who began his sallies while a student at the State University in 1918. Phil’s bands began with the jazz era and it was after that time he made dance band management and drumming his work. Phil Sheridan is given credit with developing a number of musicians who later made good in the musical field elsewhere. Sheridan took over the Elite dance hall in Missoula and here organized his first modern “hot” band, which later made a successful eastern tour. With the beginnings of “hot” music in Missoula were “take off men” such as Al Marineau, who now directs his own dance band; “Barney” Dean and “Angus” McNaught, who were Missoula’s saxophone “dirt men,” and a number of others who have by now either quit the profession or established their own dance bands.

In the peculiar fraternity of musicians there is a custom both widely known and observed. It is called “jamming,” or “jam session.” The meaning of such terms is explained by the supposed manner of attack upon music employed at these “jam sessions,” all of which may take place after the musician has finished a four-hour dance job, or whenever a number of them get together and decide to adventure experimentally into the realm of hot music. At these sessions “dirt men” “take off” on all possible musical tangents and play modern music just as they themselves see fit. Many modern methods of phrasing and execution find their birth at these gatherings, at which laymen are barred and those of the fraternity welcomed.

Jazz was toned down by Whiteman, made into “hot” music by natural evolution in the combination of white and black music, until now Duke Ellington, colored orchestra leader, has been commissioned by the Metropolitan company to write a modern opera. “Hot” music has found its place in the American listeners’ ear and seems to have definitely lifted the saxophone from the woodshed to the front room.

A reminder of former regard for that instrument is evident today when rehearsing is called “wood-shedding” – reminiscent of the place where the embryo artist was forced to retire in order that his family might be kept from going deaf.

Perhaps from somewhere “Jazzbo” Brown and his amazing horn look down upon the leaps and bounds made since the beginnings of his wayward wailing in the river country, to marvel at the grown-up child of Jazz.

 

The above article appeared in The Sunday Missoulian on April 28, 1935.

 

Richard O’Malley, writer of the above article, was the author of the Butte novel, “Mile High, Mile Deep.” He graduated from the University of Montana journalism school in the early 1930’s and worked as a reporter for the Missoulian for a short time. He then worked for several other Montana newspapers and later became an AP bureau chief in Paris, and later Frankfurt. He reported on several world conflicts throughout his newspaper career. He was on board the USS Missouri when the Japanese surrendered in Tokyo Bay. He died in Arizona in 1999.

His article on Jazz in Missoula included a photo of Phil Sheridan – “Whose orchestra brought jazz to Missoula.”

 

Dance Hall Trivia

Here’s some interesting Dance Hall trivia from several early day Missoulian newspapers:

In 1903 at Fort Missoula a proposal to honor Sergeant Emmet Hawkins, the champion rifle shot of the army (to honor a splendid record in rifle competitions in the East) was canceled in 1903. “It had been arranged to give the sergeant a reception and a ball as a celebration of the fact that the famous colored marksmen had carried off the honors for the Twenty-fourth. . . Owing, however, to an order issued by the commanding officer at Fort Missoula, the dance and reception was perforce abandoned through the refusal to allow the use of the hall for that purpose.” The sergeant immediately applied for a transfer to Fort Assiniboine. “He’s jus’ the best ever,” mournfully explained one soldier yesterday. . .

County Deputy Sheriff Pat Callahan shut down the dance halls in Taft saloons in 1908, saying he intends to give the town a much better reputation in the future.

A Ladies Federated Society in 1909, with Mrs. Tylar Thompson as an elected officer, passed a resolution, “That in regular meeting we, by unanimous vote condemn the dance halls as a menace to the youth of our city and earnestly request his honor the mayor and the honorable members of the city council to use their power to close such institutions. . .”

In 1917 Commissioner of public safety Thomas Kemp “served notice on all dance hall managers that the city ordinance requiring registration of young girls who attend public dances be strictly enforced, beginning at once.”

Minors were banned by a City ordinance from local [Missoula] dance halls, according to Police Chief W. J. Moore in 1920. He announced that a “special officer will be detailed to that work.”

Special policewoman Mrs. H. H. Hayes was selected by the city council in 1921 to see that regulations were enforced at local dance halls. “She has charge not only of the dance hall regulations, but juvenile cases as well, working in co-operation with the district probation officer, Mrs. Jane Bailey.”

1924 – Dancing Tonight – Greenough Park – Sheridan’s Orchestra – Hear Our New Organ With the Orchestra – The First Organ Ever Used With a Dance Band – Featuring Al Leclaire At The Organ – 10c Dance. – Dancing Every Thursday and Saturday.

1924 – Dance At Frenchtown – Big Gym Hall Saturday Night Music by Melody Four – Admission $1.50, Including Supper.

1924 – Dance to Beaudette’s Rhythm Kings at the Bitter Root Inn – Tickets, $1.10 – Supper.

1925 – Danceland The New Mammoth Riverview Pavilion – River View Park – Florence – Borchers Bros. And Their Six-Piece Dance Band – Missoula’s Best – Men, $1.10, Ladies Free.

1925 – Al Marineau And His Vandal Dance Band – The Orchestra From the University of Idaho – Winter Garden Tonight

1928 – Dance Tonight at ELITE – The Greatest Musical Aggregation in the Country – Charles Dornberger and his Victor Recording Orchestra – The Autocrats of Dance Bands – The finest, most entertaining group of musicians to ever play here, as they are even better than they were two years ago – The only inspected and approved Ballroom in Western Montana capable in every respect of accommodating enormous dance crowds

1929 – Elite – Tonight – Music By Mope And His Boys – with Buck Stowe and Paulie Keith, Entertainers – Note: Buck has the prettiest new drums you ever looked at. You know Harry Owens, famous composer and orchestra leader of California, who used to play trumpet here with Sheridan’s. Well his latest waltz number, “Make Believe You Are Mine Tonight,” will be featured. Men, 75 c – Ladies, 25c.

1929 – Dance Tonight – Orchard Homes Clubhouse – Music by The Orioles – A Hot Dance Band – Gents $1.00 – Ladies Free.

1929 – Dance Lolo Tonight – Vagabond Orchestra – Auspices Lolo Women’s Club.

1929 – Dance Tonight – At the Grand Spring Opening of The Bitter Root Sugar Beet Club – Featuring Bobbie’s Collegians – A Snappy 6-Piece Orchestra. Dancing from 9 ‘till 3. A delicious supper served at 12. Bus will leave depot at 8 o’clock. Notice – Good Roads All of the Way.

1929 – Join the Crowd and Dance at Pine Grove Community Clubhouse Tonight – Music by Tommy Meisinger and His Five-Piece Band – Good Roads – Good Supper – Given by the Pine Grove Community Club

1929 – Dance At Clinton Tonight – Music by Vags. Good roads. Supper at midnight.

1929 – Music By Stephenson’s Blackjackets – A Fine Dance Band – A Good Supper at Midnight – Ladies Free.

1930 – Crescent 8-Piece Orchestra Featuring Charles White and His Xylophone – Missoula’s Bigger and Better Dance Band at the Winter Garden – At the Opening of the Palace Hotel Dining Room.

1930 – Phil Sheridan and his Montanans will return to Missoula next Saturday to play at Tokyo Gardens. Their return will mark the completion of a ten-thousand mile tour lasting three and a half months, during which they played some of the finest ballrooms and resorts in 10 different states.

The story of jazz in Msla link:

https://www.newspapers.com/image/352209573/?terms=dance%2Bband

 


Old Time Saw Mill Was Social Center by “Anne Hawkins” (Who was she?)

Old Time Saw Mill Was Social Center – Missoulian 6/7/1925

Anne Hawkins Compares Big Establishments of Today With Those of Long Ago.

By Anne Hawkins (pseudonym)

I made a trip up to Bonner just especially to see what resemblance I could find in the splendid big mill there, to the little, old stumpy saw mills of the early days. I saw three trim band saws ripping into the logs, in place of the old-time circular saws.

Mr. Lubrecht explained that the band saws cut a much narrower width of saw dust from the log than the more cumbersome circular saw, thereby eliminating a lot of waste. The old-time circular saw was the most wicked looking piece of machinery I ever gazed upon, and I recall an early day play where the hero was bound onto the log carrier by the villain and headed straight for the cruel teeth of the circular saw, when by the timely intervention provided by the playwright, the hero escaped being sawed up.

I never have been able to quite overcome the feeling that it must humanly “hurt” the log when the saw bites into it, or repress a little shiver as for a human being on the operating table.

Four hundred thousand feet per day, Mr. Lubrecht said, is the capacity of this great mill, the largest in the state of Montana, and some five hundred men are needed to operate it. Mentally, I was comparing our little early-day mill with its fractional part of such an output with this huge plant at Bonner. It made me almost disloyal to even make the comparison, so I added stoutly under my breath but “she” was a good little mill and a sturdy worker, our old-time mill was.

The general classification for the work is about the same now as in early days. Mr. Lubrecht said, but the lumber itself is graded much more closely, twenty-five or thirty grades now, to two or three grades then. I asked if there was much improvement over the old time way of “snaking” in the logs to the mill, with horses and oxen, and Mr. Lubrecht smiled as he said although they had dispensed with oxen, they hadn’t found anything that was an improvement on the horse for getting the logs out of rough country. I was glad, because I know now there is one place I can go where I won’t have to flee for my life from the onrushing honking cars. They have some fine horses at Bonner. I noticed one big handsome black horse that hauls out little cars of lumber on the tracks. He could do everything but attach himself to the car and speak the English language.

Then there was a big dapple gray team, noticeably good to look upon, hauling loads of lumber across the yard. Very seldom in the old days did we see anything so handsome in a mill yard. We had the little old bronc, the government mule and oxen, oxen (sic).

I looked around for the sawdust pile and was told that the big incinerator took care of that as well as all other waste material not used for fuel. What a capacious maw!

A Change From 1873!

Standing on the elevated walkways inside the big Bonner mill above the whizzing, whirring machinery and looking down the immense amount of lumber being handled, one realized how much in speed and efficiency had been accomplished since the days of the old Hammond mill in 1873.

My recollections of the early-day saw mills in a sparsely settled country are those of a place where you could go and have a real good time, much as community houses are now. We had dances, and Fourth of July celebrations and once we had a school exhibition (please note the word “exhibition” and then on rare occasions we had “Spelling Bees.”

Probably more of the old-time dances were held at saw mills than at any other one place. It was good to be alive and ride in the dusk of the evening through the sweet-smelling pines and dreadful logging roads up and up to where the mill was and then to dance all night on the new pine floors in some one of the clean new buildings. The little old saw mills had a cluttery mill yard with a big pile of sawdust and piles of slabs and pieces of most everything lying around. We liked it that way, though. A Fourth of July celebration meant considerable extra work in the way of building platforms and roofing them with boughs and even building a merry-go-round, but we couldn’t have celebrated properly without them, we thought. People came a long distance to attend and those were the only attractions we had to offer.

I recall but one “School Exhibition” that was held at a saw mill and that was because of the limited space in the school house not far away. Stage and scenery was built on a generous scale, in fact, it was rather awe inspiring to some youthful amateur performers who were dreadfully afraid they would “fall off.” Just why entertainments given by schools in those days should be called “Exhibitions” I do not know, although sometimes they were that literally.

Now about Spelling Bees at the old-time saw mills, of course, we had many “personally conducted” ones in the old log school house, but somehow the spelling bees at the mills were funnier. Maybe it was because of the unique characteristics to be found there. Usually there was quite an assortment. I recall one man by the name of Dick Rose who had drifted in from – no one quite knew where – a man of noticeably fine appearance and was very well educated. He might have been a diplomat at a foreign court, but – he wasn’t. He was a booze-fighting cook for the saw mill crew. I do not know where or how he learned spelling. I know I didn’t teach it to him, but if there (sic) couldn’t spell it was because he had not heard of that particular word and at that he could sometimes spell it.

Sir Oracle, did you wish me to take issue with Heywood Broun about the seeming reflections he has cast upon the old time “spellers?”[1] In the first place, I do not think he has spelled his own name right. I think it should be spelled B-R-0-W-N. Mr. Brown assumes that the children of today are sixty percent more expert in spelling than the scholars who lived in the days when the three R’s were so much magnified. Well, maybe so, but my recollections of “Joe” Worcester, “Sam” Johnson, Noah Webster, D. Whitney and Dr. Murray are, that they were tolerable good old-time spellers. And yet, according to Mr. Broun, they would lack some sixty per cent of being as smart as the Massachusetts children. The world do move.

We had some pretty good spellers in our old-time spelling bees, too. They could not only “spell the house down” but they could wear out two or three “pronouncers.”

Dick Rose was like that when we had our little spelling matches at the saw mill where he cooked. Of course there were other good spellers, too, even those that hadn’t gone beyond the fifth grade, if they happened to have had access to a mail order house catalogue.

Most of the people that came to the mill for lumber had to stay over night and so, with the crew and the one or two families that lived there, there were usually enough people to try for some form of amusement, ‘most any time. I have recollections of going to the mill on the running gears of a big wagon with our men folks for lumber. I would have a cushion and sit over the back axle. One started out joyously enough but you know there were no springs or shock absorbers in connection with the back axle of the running gears, and before many miles had elapsed, I would begin to get moody and have bitter introspective feelings and ask myself why I was so foolish as to select that style of locomotion. Certain it was the wheels never missed a rock and the horses always trotted in the roughest portions of the road. As soon as I reached the mill my gloom would vanish and I would immediately find plenty of interesting things to see and do.

The old circular saw always fascinated me even if I did shiver every time it struck a log. The engineer was always sociable and raised his voice high above the buzzing of the saw to talk with me.

Once the engine “blew up” in a government saw mill and knocked the roof off and made quite a scattering.

The off bearers didn’t have much machinery to help them out in those days, any more than the sawdust men did. I helped pack shingles once and wrote my name and address on one shingle, but nothing romantic came of it. I liked to sit on the steps of some family house and watch the teams come in, the government mule teams of six or eight mules, and the oxen like “dumb driven cattle.” In those days to be compared with a government mule was a term of opprobrium, and yet most of them were perfectly respectable mules, only a bit tricky. It is presumed that the word “mule skinner” for drivers must have originated from the fact that the old long-lashed whips used by the drivers could draw blood every time it was cracked. If I remember correctly three wagons piled high with lumber, all fastened together, could be hauled out with the eight mules. How slowly the oxen moved and how cumbersome they were and how much “whacking” it took to get them along, I never learned just how many “whacks” it took to make a full-fledged bullwhacker, but a great many, I imagine. I remember old Tamarack, a big black and white ox that I tried to “whack” and got my fingers severely pinched between the stick and the top of his sharp back bone.

I do not know which ranked higher in social distinction, a mule skinner or a bullwhacker, but as I recall, the seating arrangements at the oil-cloth-covered tables at saw mills, a question of precedence never came up and so I presume their social standing was about the same.

What a variety of types sat around those long tables and how I loved to partake in a meal there. “Montana” was one of the saw mill women I liked very much to visit with. ‘Tana had been married four times and she could neither read nor write and after her third husband died she married an impoverished Italian count. ‘Tana, the countess! Now an educated woman couldn’t have done any better than that, could she? And the countess was the cook for the saw mill crew.

I recall seeing a big forest fire and the men trying to save a sawmill – and they did save it, too, by working all night. I rode to the top of a gulch and looked down into the fiery furnace. It made me positively sick to see the fine old pine trees suffer so. They writhed and twisted and seemed to groan as the fierce, red flames laid hold of them.

I wonder if the beautiful description that Dean Stone has written of the life of Sentinel Pine has sunk deeply enough into our appreciation of fine things? And if we realize just what the life of the pine means? Going through the Art Institute in Chicago, I stood long before a painting of an old pine tree. The picture was not likely to have been done by a master artist, but it brought a mist to my eyes and lump in my throat for it was a true likeness of one of my dear friends in the big pine forests of the west.

 

The above article appeared in The Sunday Missoulian on June 7, 1925.

The author of this article, Anne Hawkins, chose to use a pseudonym while writing articles for The Daily Missoulian.

Her first column appeared on February 26, 1922. The introduction to that first column went thus:

“This interesting account of school-teaching in the days of the early west is written for The Sunday Missoulian by a resident of this city. She is a veteran of the west and she was a pioneer in education in this part of the country. She does not choose to write under her own name, but she assumed the title of “Anne Hawkins.” Today’s article is the first of a series from her pen.”

“Anne Hawkins” later provided the Missoulian with several more articles over a period of years in the 1920’s. She had a substantial knowledge of early Montana history which she didn’t mind sharing. Identifying her would be a challenge today without more information. A few of Missoula’s early teachers don’t seem to fit the description – e.g., Emma Slack Dickenson, Olive Rankin, Sarah Countryman Woody, and some others who resided in the area by 1873. Maybe someone out there can provide us her name. A hint – Her first article – ‘West of Long Ago and Its Schools’ – noted that she was a 17-year-old teacher in in the territory of Wyoming.

More of her articles are forthcoming.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/348664156/

 


[1] The reference here is to a local column by the Missoulian columnist French T. Ferguson (Oracle). It appeared in the Missoulian on 5/19/1925. Heywood Broun was a nationally famous acerbic columnist. See the following link – https://www.newspapers.com/image/348662976/?terms=%22anne%2Bhawkins%22

Schley’s Mystery Mountain Goats, Heroes and Luminaries

Village of Schley Has Real Mystery

Unidentified Species of Animal Seen Grazing on Mountain Tops

The town of Schley, west of Missoula, on Evaro hill, has a real mystery.

In its front yard, which extends to the Mission range, high up on the mountain side, outlined against the deep snows, a strange animal wanders about in the early morning hours according to reports. The animal appears every morning at about the same hour. It is said to be too large for a deer, and bears no resemblance to an elk or moose. Those who have caught a glimpse of it say it is not a cow or horse as they do not frequent that region at this time of the year. Owing to the extremely deep snow on the steep mountain side it is almost impossible to make a close investigation.

The matter was reported to the sheriff’s office yesterday afternoon by a man who came to Missoula for binoculars with which to identify the “mystery animal.”

“It may be a prehistoric animal,” he told Under-Sheriff Ralph Herrick. “Tell me where I can get a good, strong glass.”

“I would suggest that you hold that bottle of moonshine up – the bottle you must have had when you were ‘seeing things,’” was Under-Sheriff Herrick’s reply, thinking the man was joking.

“I am serious,” the man insisted. “Several of us have seen it and watched it for a number of mornings.”

The visitor, slightly peeved, because his mission was not taken seriously, stamped out of the sheriff’s office, to resume his search for the binoculars.

In the event investigation reveals a new “unknown animal,” a party of sportsmen from Missoula, with cameras and guns plans going into the mountains to investigate.

 

The above article appeared in The Sunday Missoulian on May 28, 1922.

 

While the reporter never mentioned Mountain Goats, it is likely that is what was being observed in this article. There were an estimated 70 to 80 Mountain Goats in the Mission Range in 2018, according to an article in The Missoulian on Sept. 14, 2018. Some of these are from a native population. They are still observable in the Rattlesnake Wilderness area.

The village of Schley is hardly known today. It was located about ½ way between Evaro and Arlee, just west of Hwy 93. The site was located in 1899 by officials with the N.P railroad. It was named in honor of a Spanish American war hero, Rear Admiral Winfield Scott Schley.

Incidentally, Admiral Schley visited Missoula in 1903, while on his way to Helena by train. He and his traveling companion, Col. Alexander K. McClure, stopped at the depot where hundreds of people were gathered. Schley spoke to the crowd briefly, noting that he was not a professional speaker, “It is the officeseekers who make speeches, and I am not running for office. Men in my profession do their talking with guns.”

His companion, Alexander K. McClure was, however, a very prominent speaker and political figure. He was also an outsized individual whose career figured in such things as befriending President Lincoln, organizing troops during the civil war, meeting Robert E. Lee, and starting and owning a prominent newspaper in Philadelphia, Pa. He also spent time in Montana during the gold rush era of Virginia City and was a friend of the Col. Sanders and the vigilantes. He gave a lecture on the notorious X Beidler while in Helena. McClure wrote several books during his lifetime, including “Recollections of Half a Century,” and “Three Thousand Miles Through The Rocky Mountains”, which are available on the internet at the links below.

https://archive.org/details/colonelalexander00mccl/page/n5

https://archive.org/details/threethousandmil00mccl/page/n10

Three of Eight Children – The Athletic Olsen Brothers, Ray, Louis and Vern

From a Family of eight children – The Athletic Olsen Brothers – Ray, Louis and Vern

Instant recall by John T. Campbell

One of the most unusual sports figures on the local scene that I have ever known, a man so likable and loyal and so full of infectious laughter, is the incomparable Charles Raymond Olsen.

There are just a handful of men left today who played in the fabled City baseball league back in the 1920s, and Ray Olsen is one of them. But one would never know it because the jolly fellow simply belies his age. Life to him is a great big glass of bubbling champagne, a symbol of happiness and joie de vivre. It would be absolutely impossible to chronicle a low-profile on Ray Olsen.

I mention the man’s cheerful demeanor, his good-hearted joshing and name calling because these traits, so noticeable at first, are the ones which make him such an unforgettable character. His voice, a loud cackle, set the tone for any conversation, and it can’t be very serious when “Oly” is around. Ask any of his contemporaries – Butch Madsen, Dutch Meyer, Herb Baker – they’ll all tell you that Ray Olsen is funny without even trying and that his infinite cheer makes you feel good all over.

Ray is retired, in a way, but manages to keep up to date on major sports events, principally through television. He follows all local teams and, nationally, he practically memorizes the progress of his beloved Yankees. If you missed a New York box score in the paper, call him and he’ll recite it over the phone – with gusto.

Ray Olsen was part of a family that produced some good athletes 50 years ago. His high school days were spent in Livingston. From there he became a Gonzaga Bulldog and was a scintillating stalwart for Mike Pecarovich’s Spokane Bullies. In the mid-‘30s he teamed with All-American Automatic Karamatic as the ‘Dogs battled traditional grid foes, including Montana. Olsen was a sensational punter, a loose-limbed athlete with leverage, like Ray Guy.

Baseball found Ray in a Mint uniform back in the late ‘20s, teaming with Orin Dishman, Tom Mitchell, Harold Bishop, Clarence Coyle, Wally Schact and others, all considerably older. Olsen, a third baseman, had a throwing arm like Al Kaline’s, a regular rifle.

When semi-pro State League baseball prospered here before World War II, Ray and his brother, Louis, were very much in demand. Lou Olsen was a rangy righthander, a pitcher with superb control, a sharp curve and blazing smoke. The brothers parlayed stints with the Bonner Lumberjacks and Missoula Pirates. Ray often was stationed at right field where his strong throwing arm would cut down runners trying to stretch an extra base. A batter from the port side, Ray’s average was never prodigious, but always over .300.

It was just 40 years ago this summer that Ray and the late Sandy Durrant teamed up to sponsor the Missoula entry in the State League. The war and military draft gradually depleted the ranks, but the season was finished by a lonely Durrant as Olsen had heeded the call to army service.

In those fun-time days, it was Olsen who maintained spirited antics and answers. In the dugout it was always the chipper Olsen who told his mates how to bat. “Just cut and slash,” he’d bellow with another hearty roar. Eddie Rathjen, who inherited the nickname “Knees” from Olsen, will certainly recall those halcyon days.

Law enforcement work, as a deputy sheriff and then as Highway Patrol captain, formed Ray Olsen’s civilian career. He has a younger brother, Vernon, who lives in Eureka, Calif., and often visits him, and sees coast league and major league games.

Despite his incessant chuckling, Ray Olsen was extremely competitive. He played hard with an insatiable desire to win. And he played the game for pleasure. That is really Ray Olsen’s answer to life itself.

 

The above article appeared in John T. Campbell’s Instant recall column of the Missoulian on July 21, 1981.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/350075139/?terms=%22Ray%2Bolsen%22

 

Vern Olsen Story of Missoula 1930’s

Instant Recall by John T. Campbell

‘Ole’ Writes of the ‘30s

(Memory note: Vernon Olsen is a native of Missoula and a 1935 graduate of Missoula County high. In his sports salad days, he was slightly overshadowed by two older brothers, Ray and Lou, both of whom starred for Missoula and Bonner baseball nines in the old State League. Ray also was a standout member of the 1935-36 Gonzaga football teams).

Vern Olsen is a retired licensed forester and lives in Eureka, Calif. His son, Bill, was a top southpaw pitcher a decade ago and was signed by the New York Yankees. However, tendinitis of the elbow cut short a promising career. A daughter is married to the Nashville Network program director, so Vern and his wife have become acquainted with many stars of the Grand Ol’ Opry. Vern’s recent letter contained many memories which he describes as Not-So-Instant Recalls. In Missoula, he lived on Nora St., just across from today’s Meadow Gold Dairy.

Here’s Ole:

“I sure remember September of 1931 when the high school burned down. Like a lot of other freshmen, I had classes in the Willard grade school and we had lots of snow that year. You and I scrawled our names with fancy writing, pretending we were bank presidents.

“In that winter, I would go to the boxing matches at the old Loyola gym. Billy McFarland and Orin Dishman were running the shows. We didn’t have any money, but always seemed to get in. McFarland put my brother, Ray, on a card as a part of a curtain-raiser. “Kid” Olsen had a draw.

“I was a Missoulian newspaper delivery boy and saw how tough the competition was. The afternoon paper, the Sentinel, sold for 15 cents a week. Greg Rice got his papers from Mr. Healy and then raced toward the NP Depot. He would sell about 50 before starting his regular route. My route was on W. Front St., which was a red-light district. The ladies had more money and were great customers.

“I hung around the old NP baseball park all the time. In those Depression days of 1932, there were bums who slept at the ballpark. I sure do remember watching Ownie Kelley. He used to crowd the plate and was tough to get out.

“I was hiking up Grant Creek in December of 1932 with a neighbor, Bob Lund. He had a .22-caliber revolver and when we were sitting by a campfire, it accidently went off. The bullet hit me at the corner of my mouth. We ran down the road and a car, driven by a Mr. Schramm, stopped and took me to the hospital. Dr. Thornton said if the bullet had been a quarter-of-an-inch farther away, I would have had it.

“I really got a bang out of playing with the 1937 Forest Service fastpitch softball team. Tony Schumacher put the team together. I think Tony lives in Polson now. We had Jim Spittler, Bill Holman, the Lee brothers and a Larry Schneider. We went back to the nationals in Chicago and played games on the way in Billings, Bismarck and Fargo, N.D., and Minneapolis. At Soldiers Field, four games were played at the same time. Windmill Watson, of Phoenix, Ariz., beat us 4-0.

“When we played on a Missoula south-side softball park, I did manage to rob you of a big hit. Your father saw the game and the senator said I had made a great catch.

“In later years, I played with a Tacoma team that won 53 straight games.

“I sure did enjoy seeing so many old friends at the high school reunion in Missoula last summer. When I saw Guy Rogers, I was reminded of the time our Legion baseball team was beaten in Great Falls. It was a lopsided score and I was pitching and unable to get the batters out. That reunion for Coach Sam Kain in 1984 was a peach. It was great to see guys like Byron Murphey, George Cote, Elmer Barrett, Gem Mercer, Herb Searles, Ray and Burton Perry and Ray Lawrence.

“And then there was Ray Rocene. The Missoulian-Sentinel sports writer was really one of the town’s characters. I can still see that peculiar stride of his. He always walked real fast. Guess he was like a good newspaperman – he always beat the deadline.”

 

The above article appeared in John T. Campbell’s Instant Recall column of the Sunday Missoulian on January 25, 1987.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/350811416/?terms=%22burton%2Bperry%22

 

Nancy Olsen Morse remembers Missoula’s downtown.

In one of reporter Steve Smith’s columns in the Missoulian – Oct. 13, 1984 – Nancy Morse was quoted as follows:

“I was born in Missoula in 1940 and spent a very happy childhood across the street from Lowell School on the West Side. I am from the Olsen family (my dad was Louis Olsen, a noted baseball pitcher. . . My uncle, the late Ray Olsen, was the captain of the Highway Patrol, from which he retired in 1971.)

“I have been away from Missoula since 1964, but I still maintain there was a café on the east side of Higgins between Front Street and the Northern Pacific depot. You could get ice cream there and eat lunch. I don’t know if it was a full restaurant, but my older relatives would take me there. It was north of the Mercantile.

“I’m not talking about the Chinese restaurant or the little chili place down by the depot. It was a café or soda fountain. My brother, Tom, or T.O., says there was never anything like that on Higgins. I’m only talking about the ‘40s and doubt if it was still there in the ‘50s. He says no.

“If you could find out the name of it, and which block it was in, I’d win this bet. I especially want to know its name.”

 

Reporter Steve Smith soon responded:

“Nancy and T.O., for what it’s worth, a very nice old man named Mr. Raymond had a hole-in-the-wall doughnut shop/soda fountain/lunch counter in the 100 block of North Higgins near East Main Street. The name of the place escapes me, but he served the best chocolate milkshake and ham sandwich to be found in what I would guess was the late 1940s or early ‘50s.

In the window, visible from the sidewalk, was a Rube Goldberg doughnut-making machine that stopped foot traffic whenever it was operating. On the south wall of the place was a sign that read as follows: “As you wander down life’s path/Whatever be your goal/Keep your eye upon the donut/And not upon the hole.”

Mr. Raymond, who came here from Butte, lived on Mount Avenue and was in his 90s when he died.

Does that ring any bells? If not, maybe a reader can help out.

 

The Steve Smith article quoted above appeared in the Missoulian on October 13, 1984.

 

However, in a later Steve Smith article, it was acknowledged by Nancy Morse that the name of the establishment was Super Cream Café at 322 N. Higgins (later site of Army/Navy Store).

The Olsen brothers were part of a large Missoula family of eight children, born to Louis Anton Olsen and Hattie Ethel Wilborn Olsen.