Old Missoula

Let’s preserve tradition, not mourn its passing

By Don Klepper

What has been defined as progress and part of the new way has resulted in the destruction of part of the history of Missoula. Block by block, building by building, history and tradition departs. The prevalent operative today is that the old must go down before the new can go up, an insane logic in a valley with so much land. My generation should value those places that made Missoula what it was during our youth, those places that gave personality to our community while providing locations where we mingled and enjoyed each other’s company.

I will never forget the feeling of walking into the old Dornblazer stadium for a high school or a college football game where if we did not have the price of a ticket, a blanket and a radio on the side of the hill did just fine and no one cared. The first time that I walked into the Fox Theater after its opening, it took my breath away. For 20 cents I could spend an afternoon at the movies in an elegant atmosphere, and for 50 cents I could eat Black Crows, Milk Duds, popcorn, and drink Coca-Cola. The roller skating rink on South Higgins and Julian’s Grocery, northwest of St. Francis Grade School, provided a turf where North side, South side, East side, and West side all met at times to discuss social issues and even, at times, to enjoy each other’s company. Walking to or from Julian’s Grocery I saw the magnificence of the buildings and grounds of Sacred Heart Academy and the St. Francis Parish area, much of which is now gone or changed. In later years I returned to Sacred Heart and Loyola to teach chemistry in the splendor of those buildings where the good sisters oiled every piece of old wood in the structures, and I learned some history every time I looked at the pictures on the walls.

I was fortunate enough to sell the afternoon newspapers on the streets of downtown Missoula, and I remember the sights, sounds and smells of places like the Missoula Mercantile that had everything from hardware to a small eatery upstairs. I recall Bob Ward and Sons, which smelled like gun oil and wool, where everyone gathered to talk hunting and fishing while leaning over the old counter. Barthel Hardware was a family-owned business where I had my first paying job. There politics, the economy and Missoula news were discussed over almost every transaction.

A paper boy could always peddle an arm full of papers in the Old Oxford where the tips were generous and where Billy McFarlane would sometimes spring for a free Coke and hamburger. Traveling south on Higgins, I could make quick stop in the Woolworth’s store and buy a small white sack full of hot cashews and a Green River. I turned right on Main to the Turf and went into the bar where there were always the same faces around the tables and the beautiful wood bar. I could almost predict to the penny the number of papers I was going to sell.

The downtown Missoula area was a wonderful place to shop and socialize. There the vendors were more than merchants; their stores were a social melting pot.

During my generation, in adolescence and early adulthood we expanded our territory to include the dances at Bonner Park, the Welcoma Club and the Moose Lodge; Coney Islands at the Palace Candy Store; shooting pool at the Pennant; drag races on Sugar Beet Lane; and bumming a beer at the Highlander Brewery.

How can I communicate to people who have not enjoyed these places what their disappearance means to me? There must be many people who feel as I do. I fault myself and others like me for allowing this to occur. I look for our names on the committees and elected boards that decide what will go and what will stay, what is and what is not economic development and progress, and our names are strangely absent. We have been indifferent and therefore have betrayed our responsibility to preserve as much of our tradition as possible. I know that it may be easy for people who do not feel as I do to classify the Paxson Schools, Fox Theaters, and Dornblaser Fields as old useless relics that need to be leveled for the construction of more efficient, effective buildings, and that for each generation, new traditions and memories will start with the construction of these facilities. However, the roots of any community are layered, and a segment of these roots is manifested in the architecture of the people of each generation. When we destroy old structures, we sever contact points with the past which cannot ever be recovered. There is room to simultaneously build and preserve, weaving a ‘hands-on’ historical tapestry to be enjoyed by future generations in our community. One beautiful fall day long ago, two young men, home on leave from the Marine Corps, landed at the airport in Missoula. They threw their duffel bags in the back of a pickup and caught a ride to town. As the pickup wound down “old 93” and into Missoula, one young man turned to the other and said, “Klep, I love this valley and this town. I hope it never changes.”

It was inevitable, but we may have made it too easy by not objecting to some of the proposed changes. I somehow feel as if we have betrayed a deed of trust made with our past, and we need to try to make things right.

Don Klepper is personnel manager for Missoula School District 1.

 

The above letter appeared in the Sunday Missoulian on December 9, 1990.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/351107967

 

Accompanying the letter was a photograph of a crane truck removing the Fox Theater sign from the Fox Theater building on West Front Street.

The caption read: “MISSOULA LOST the landmark Fox Theater on Front Street earlier this year.”

 

Donald Klepper died in Missoula in 2016. His Missoulian obituary appears below:

 

Dec. 29, 2016

Missoula – Donald Keith Klepper,75, of Missoula, passed away Tuesday, Dec. 20, 2016, at Community Medical Center of congestive heart failure.

He was born March 9, 1941, in Havre. He attended Missoula area schools and served in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve. Don received a B.S. of education and master’s in chemistry and biology from University of Montana. He taught in Missoula and Alaska and served as high school principal in Fairbanks Alaska. He received a PhD at New Mexico State University in Educational Management.

Don served as Director of Human Resources for School District 1 from 1983 to 1994. He was also a Labor Relations consultant, proficient in bargaining contracts, arbitrations, and risk management. He was a past member of the Montana Board of Personnel Appeals.

From his earliest days, and throughout his entire life, Don was a natural born leader, hunter, fisherman, and family story teller. He was a caring and compassionate person who helped others in need. The sound of his laughter is one of his greatest gifts that lives on in the hearts of his extended family.

Don is survived by his wife of 53 years, Janet; two daughters, Laurie Obom (Mark) and Amy Pearson (Charles); son Greg Klepper; granddaughter Rachel Neff (Jacob); grandson Blake Rowe; four great-grandchildren; sisters, Diane Brady (Jim) and Vicki Simonsen (Lorence); brothers, Greg (Marylene) and Stephen (Marlyah). He was preceded in death by parents Don and Vivian Klepper; sister Marilyn Cyrus; nephews, Jeff Klepper and Michael McLain.

 

Don Klepper’s letter above evoked at least one interesting letter in response. The letter below was printed in The Missoulian on Jan. 1, 1991.

Where but in Missoula?

Don Klepper’s essay on Missoula memories (Missoulian, Dec. 9) ignited by the downfall of the Fox Theater stands as a work of good writing, perhaps art, as many readers share those memories of Missoula and more which do not evaporate with time. Some never called it home and others saw it only as a summertime oasis in mountain shade and wondered at it as kids, as hitchhikers and hobos and later as scrubbed-up collegians. I join all of the above.

My dad spent quite a few summers finishing his education at scattered summer schools; and to Missoula, he brought his entire family, which filled a Studebaker that had yellow oaken spokes cracked from pulling prairie gumbo and Skalkaho and Mullan roads. Dad parked us in a tent camp and went off to school, something he did most every day of his life. I explored the creek and wooded ravine, then ambled into town. Higgins Avenue was a different world full of freshness. The market stuff glistened with dark red cherries and other fruit from the Bitterroot and Flathead and made your mouth water. In front of a “sporting goods” store, a display of trout was spread out on ice trays, caught that morning, still shining in rainbow colors, some dotted with black and gray. Logging trucks roared across on U.S. 10, flooding the air with forest smells of fir, pine and spruce. Where else on earth could you see, feel, hear and smell all this in the heart of the city?

R. D. Peterson,

289 Holmes Creek Lane, Polson.