Old Missoula

 

An Unusual Amount of Wickedness – Yellowstone to Missoula 1883 by Col. John C. Tidball

 

 

One of Missoula’s most famous visitors, ever, was Civil War General William T. Sherman, who came in 1883. On the trip of a lifetime, he was finishing his military career with a fabulous military junket across the country, all the way to the Pacific Coast and back. In some respects it was similar to a presidential cavalcade. Word of his expected arrival seemed to precede him at many of his destinations. Missoula was on his list, mainly because of its new railroad.

 

As he traveled west, first by boat over the Great Lakes, then by rail, he stopped at a series of forts and posts, all of which he duly observed and inspected as the Commanding General of the Army. The gravitas of these visits was not lost on the officers and soldiers at these posts.

 

Sherman and his party were greeted like royalty at every one of them, and after the proper ceremonies, he frequently “received the officers,” often including their families. He was making a grand circuit that included every major city in the loop from Washington D. C. to Buffalo, N. Y. to Puget Sound, and then back to D. C. via San Francisco, Los Angeles, Santa Fe, Salt Lake, Denver, Kansas City, St. Louis, and points east

 

Few knew, however, that the General had something in mind other than his official military duties. His real objective was to visit Yellowstone Park. He had been there once already and apparently this had only whetted his appetite to see more of it.

 

In 1877 Sherman’s first Yellowstone excursion involved floating up the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers aboard steamships that took days to reach the interior of Montana Territory. This time the trip to Montana was counted in hours, rather than days.

 

His previous trip coincided with the saga of Chief Joseph and the Nez Perces retreat through Montana after the Battle of the Big Hole. A party of the fleeing Nez Perce passed through the park that summer, but they never met Sherman or his men. By 1883 the Indians were no longer a threat.

 

Sherman’s retinue consisted of everything that you would expect when a military giant traveled in style. No less than 2 members of the Supreme Court accompanied him, one being the seventh Chief Justice of the Court, Morrison Waite, originally from Ohio. Sherman was born in Ohio.

 

This journey began in Washington D. C., where the General had drawn up what his aid-de-camp described as a “programme specified with minuteness,” that included every U.S. Military installation which he could realistically visit between Buffalo, N.Y. and the Pacific Ocean. Stops were also made in several major cities where the public frequently gathered to pay their respects. After all, along with Ulysses Grant, this was the General that won the Civil War.

 

The recent completion of the Northern Pacific Rail Road made this trip possible. Anxious to attract customers, the Northern Pacific struck gold when Sherman and his party stepped aboard the railroad that Lincoln built. The military had been instrumental in protecting the men who labored on what Sherman once described as “that great national enterprise,” when threatened by Indians. Large military escorts had provided protection for surveying parties early on and officials at the Northern Pacific were grateful.

 

Sherman’s military aid, Col. John C. Tidball, helped plan, execute, and document the entire trip. A second aid, Colonel Richard Irving Dodge, was responsible for arranging “transportation, camping, and messing.” Dodge was a fisherman extraordinaire, excellent outdoorsman and prolific writer. These two aides each left us a journal/diary of their experiences; Tidball’s becoming the official record when it was inserted into the Congressional Record of the 48^th Congress for 1883 – 1884. This interesting report is 50 pages long.

 

Tidball’s journal had little to do with the affairs of Congress. While he dutifully noted that the General officially visited the posts and found them satisfactory, his remarks were often perfunctory, usually not longer than a sentence or two. Tidball was not given to exhaustive descriptions, except when describing topographical features of the country they visited. Some of his comments are laced with his dry humor.

 

Tidball’s journal makes interesting reading today if for no other reason than its observations regarding the necessary preparations required to move a group of men across the continent 135 years ago. An astute observer, Tidball, provided descriptions of the undeveloped territory that are not generally available in the literature of the era. Some of both Tidball’s and Dodge’s accounts have descriptions of the party’s fishing exploits that are entertaining. While the entire record of the General’s Yellowstone Park exploration is beyond the scope of this article, Tidball’s commentary on their trek beyond Yellowstone to Missoula has a Montana historical significance and excerpts are included below:

 

 

July 15 – This morning we broke camp and moved down to the Lower Basin, and crossing the Madison near the junction of the forks, encamped near the National Park House, an hostlery kept by G. W. Marshall. There we found the Chief Justice sufficiently recovered by rest to undertake the journey back to the Northern Pacific Railroad, the route he proposed to take home. [Chief Justice Waite’s vacation ended in a fall from a horse and he was taken to the Marshall’s hotel to begin recuperating.]

 

Marshall’s house is a good, hewed log, two-story building of several rooms, with numerous out-houses, all showing industry and thrift on the part of the proprietor and his energetic wife. They had a progeny which, for want of another name, might be called legion. It is a fact, observed in many instances during our journeying, that the more remote and inaccessible the place the greater in number are the offspring of the human inhabitants. Marshall’s place has a most picturesque outlook over the Lower Geyser Basin, and with its warm baths and excellent food is a most comfortable place for tourists. . .

 

In the afternoon our party separated, the Chief Justice and Senator Edmunds starting for their homes in the east, and our cavalry escort and pack-trains back to Fort Ellis [Bozeman]. General Terry having experienced great distress in breathing by reason of the great altitude, returned also. . . Our party from this on consisted of General Sherman, Justice Gray, Colonel Dodge, and myself. We retained two ambulances, three wagons, and a sergeant, and ten infantry men to do guard and police duty in camp. We had a couple of Chinamen for cooks, and a good camp outfit. The objective point of our route from here was Missoula, on the Northern Pacific Railroad, near the mouth of the Bitter Root River. From our present camp to Beaver Canon station, on the Utah Northern, we traveled in company with General McCook and party.

 

July 16 – Last night was very cold: at sunrise this morning the thermometer stood at 22 degrees, and ice formed so thick in our buckets that we had to break it with stones. Vegetation does not seem to suffer from these frosts and freezes; the effect on grass and flowers being apparently but that of dew. We took the road leading westward over the mountain directly in rear of Marshall’s house. This road is generally known as the Norris road, after Norris, the park superintendent, who constructed it. For a road newly cut and through dense timber this is a very good one. Norris, considering the very small amount of money at his disposal, seems to have been a good road builder. The side of the mountain next to Marshall’s is steep, and for a couple of miles the road winds around and is steep also; after that, for about 7 miles, the ascent is gradual until the summit is reached. The valley of the Madison here bursts into view, presenting a most magnificent panorama. . . The road does not cross the Madison but continues over a sandy plateau of scrubby pines to near the South Fork, when it descends over a beautiful rolling prairie, and crossing the South Fork upon a good bridge, gradually ascends again over grassy hills to Tahgee Pass, through which we passed and found ourselves on waters flowing into the Pacific. We had indeed crossed the Continental Divide, but by a route so easy we hardly knew when we made the transit . . . The scenery about here, though not particularly grand, is exceedingly beautiful. The sky in these high altitudes is of a peculiar depth of blue, and the clouds forming around the top of the snow-peaked mountains are curiously billowy and fluffy. . . The creek upon which we encamped is a tributary of the Heavy Fork of Snake River. As we could discover no name for it we called it the Tahgee.

 

July 17 – Our road followed down the Tahgee for about 2 miles when it brought us into the valley of Henry Lake, a sheet of water which we could faintly see in the distance to the west . . . We soon came upon its outlet – Henry’s Fork – a clear stream about 20 yards wide, meandering, with low banks lined with scrub willows, through a meadowlike valley. Our route for the first 12 miles was almost due south, much of it over marshy land. Then we crossed Henry’s Fork . . . Henry’s Fork is here quite a river, and full of the finest trout. These are taken at night by spearing, which is done by the light of a kerosene flame from the bow of a boat. The fish are attracted by the light and are transfixed by a six-pronged grange. . . About 10 miles from Rea’s we again forded the river to the north side. Here we halted for a short time, during which the justice and Dodge caught a mess of fine trout. They pronounced it the best fishing they had ever seen. . . Thirty- four miles from our starting-place of the morning we came to Sheridan, another stage station, on Sheridan Creek, a tributary of the Snake. Although but a small stream it is full of trout, and all hands went fishing. The trout of this Western country do not take the artificial fly with avidity; they want natural bait. Grasshoppers are the best, but at this season of the year are so young as to be difficult to catch. . . The most expert of our anglers complained that the trout of this Western country, although so beautiful and delicious, are clumsy at taking the bait; that although they strike with vigor, it is in an awkward country-like manner, entirely inferior to the more accomplished fish of the East. While in the valley of Henry’s Lake we could see to the southward the tops of the Three Tetons, the great landmarks in the olden times of trappers on the headwaters of the Green and Snake Rivers. We met also in the same valley large herds of cattle gradually grazing their way from Oregon to Montana; thence by the Yellowstone they reach Chicago and Eastern markets. From what we afterward saw of cattle driving this is a great route for such trade.

 

July 18 – Our course during this day continued westward, until it struck the Utah Northern, when it turned square to the north, following the railroad through the lower debouch of Beaver Canon . . . Here we went into camp, and in the evening bid good-by to General McCook and party, who took cars for Salt Lake City. The first half of our day’s travel had been over low prairies, one of which is Camas Prairie, the scene of one of the encounters which General Howard had in 1877 with Joseph’s band of Nez Perces. Crossing over a low divide, separating the waters of the Snake from those of Beaver Creek, the road skirts the edges of foot-hills over lava beds and bowlders. The principal tributary of the Beaver crossed by us was the Rattlesnake Creek. During the day we met two herds of cattle of about 2,000 head each, like those of the previous day, on their way to Montana. One of the herds was composed almost entirely of cows and calves. We met also a small drove of horses on their way to be distributed for stocking the stage line over this route. The distance from Beaver Canon station to the Lower Geyser Basin is 103 miles . . .

 

July 19 – Leaving Beaver Canon station, we followed the old Bannock route over the low mountains, through which Beaver Creek breaks its way in a deep and narrow canon. The railroad follows the canon, a natural cut through basaltic rock just wide enough for the track. The summit of the mountains is about 14 miles from Beaver Canon station . . . We had thus recrossed to the eastern side of the Continental Divide, and were again on the Atlantic slope. . . Some of the old stage stations remain, and their dilapidated block-houses and loop-holed walls tell of when the Indian held bloody sway over this land. This was but a decade of years gone by, and there is scarcely a trace of him left. Civilization withered him up as flax is consumed by fire, and no one mourns his loss. . . The country over which we had traveled during the day was dry and sterile, with but little grass or other vegetation, and no wood, except in gulches of the mountains a long way off. The day was hot and the atmosphere so hazy as to prevent our seeing the mountains until towards evening, when, a breeze springing up, they were revealed to us in all their grandeur. During the day we met a herd of cattle and passed a drove of “Cayuse” horses.

 

July 20 – Our road followed along the railroad down the level valley of Red Rock Creek. At Red Rock station, distant 22 miles from our starting point of the morning, we halted for an hour. Here our road left the railroad and bearing off to the left 4 miles brought us to Horse Prairie, a considerable valley, watered by a creek of the same name. A good deal of the bottom land along this stream is fenced in for meadows. . . The mining district of Lemhi is to the westward, and not far distant. There is also a little placer mining on the tributaries of the Beaver. . . Mr. Barrett is building a fine large brick house, the first we have seen since leaving Dakota. It is certainly a curiosity in this remote region. . . Twenty years ago he started for Idaho, at the time of the mining excitement there, but becoming weary of the journey settled here. . .

 

July 21 – Continuing our journey for 12 miles we came to Bannock City, a decayed mining town, formerly the capital of Montana. There are still lingering around it a few inhabitants, apparently too poor to get away. It was at one time a lively place, and the numerous signs of banks, assay offices, “gold dust bought here,” still clinging to the decaying houses attest the business activity of the place in days not long gone by. . . Bannock City is on the Grasshopper Creek, also a tributary of the Beaver. The road follows along the Grasshopper, which is a narrow valley, in which are occasional ranches and inclosed fields, principally meadows. The meadows of Horse Prairie and of the Grasshopper furnish hay for the winter feeding of stocks. During the summer the herds are driven over into the valley of the Bighole for pasturage. After passing along the Grasshopper for several miles the road ascends the divide leading to the Bitter Root Valley [here he probably meant Big Hole Valley]. The ascent to the divide is about 5 miles, leading along the side of a mountain from which issue numerous springs making the road in places very boggy. It was also very rough from bowlders. The crest of the divide is about 800 feet above the valley. . . From the crest of the divide a magnificent view presents itself. The wide expanse of the Big Hole Valley is below, while beyond is a long stretch of the Rocky Range capped with snow and rising directly from the valley, with but few intervening foot hills. Herds of cattle were seen on the plain; the same recently driven there for grazing from Horse Prairie and Grasshopper Valleys. After passing the divide some 3 miles we went into camp on a small trout stream, with good grass but no wood. Distance made, about 35 miles. During this day, and from this on, we saw broods of blue grouse, better known as fool hens, on account of their extreme stupidity. The young were at the age corresponding to spring chickens, and were a great addition to the variety of our mess. Although good fat beef was around us on the hoof in every direction, we could get none for our table. Cattle trade seems to be on a boom; herds, including cows, calves, and bulls, sell for $30 per head. [Tidball may not have been aware of the confederate influence in this part of Montana.]

 

July 22 – After proceeding a few miles we came to the main branch of Big-hole Creek, the valley of which we followed down about 30 miles to Noys’s ranch, where we crossed the stream at a good ford and went into camp. . . About 8 miles above he has a neighbor, the only one we saw in the valley.

 

July 23 – Our road, or what was left of it, for it was fast running out, led from Noys’s ford westward over a high and dry plateau, about 12 miles, to Pioneer Creek. . . Pioneer Creek, in this part of its course, follows a narrow valley between the bluffs of the plateau and the foot of the mountains. It is bordered with a thicket of dwarf willows, and it is here and among the willows that General Gibbon had his fight in 1877 with Joseph and his Nez Perces. Although Gibbon was worsted in the fight, and but for timely relief, would have shared the fate of Custer, he nevertheless gave the Nez Perces such a blow as to lead finally to their entire defeat and capture. . . From this point the road or trail follows westward up a branch of Pioneer Creek, about 20 miles, to the summit of the mountain, when it pitches abruptly into Ross’s Hole, the head of the Bitter Root Valley. About 3 miles from the summit we encamped, and, until the coolness of evening drove them away, were tormented by gnats, mosquitoes, and horse-flies.

 

July 24 – The morning was very cold – thick ice in our buckets, and thermometer 25 degrees. . . From the summit we looked down into gorges drained by waters leading into the Pacific. This is our third crossing of the Continental Divide. The descent is very steep, but over a comparatively good road. The whole mountain is covered with pine forest. Towards the bottom we came to trees much larger than any we had yet seen, with glowing reddish-brown trunks. These are known as red pine. From this point on to Puget Sound they occur quite profusely. A few miles from the foot of the mountain the road emerges into Ross’s Hole – hole being the name given in this part of the country to circular valleys embracing the headwaters of streams, and surrounded by high mountains. The principal stream of this hole is Ross’s Creek, which, upon leaving the hole, enters a canon about 13 miles long. The road follows the stream . . . About a mile after emerging from the canon we came to Edward’s ranch, not much of a ranch, but still enough to be, as it is, a landmark. (Everybody knows of Edwards’s ranch.) Opposite this ranch the east and west forks of the Bitter Root unite and from this on the stream is quite a river, flowing with great swiftness over a bowlder bed. . . Immediately after crossing we went into camp upon the brink of the river bank, the most comfortable of our trip. The Bitter Root Mountains were directly in our rear, and as the sun was setting behind them their serrated crests presented a magnificent appearance. This was the last view we had of them; from here on smoke arising from burning forests so filled the atmosphere as to cut off all distant views, depriving us of one of the chief pleasures attending a journey through a region so rich in mountain scenery. . . In passing into the Bitter Root Valley we perceived evidence of a great change of climate. At Edwards’s we saw tomatoes, corn, and other vegetables, impossible to raise where frost occurs nearly every night of the year.

 

July 25 – The road continues down the west side of the river for 10 miles, and then crosses by a ford, wide, deep, and exceedingly rough with bowlders and steep banks.

 

About a mile below the ford we came to Como, so named from a beautiful lake in the mountain nearby. It is nothing, however, but a ranch owned by a Mr. Harlen, from Columbiana County, Ohio. He had brought with him to this out-of-the-way place the taste and thrift of his native State, and was domiciled in a neat frame-house with a shingle roof, around which was a thrifty orchard and a garden full of currants, raspberries, and other fruits. He and his neatly dressed family were in the garden gathering berries, an offering of which they politely made to us. He informed us that this valley is peculiarly adapted to berries, particularly the currant.

 

Eight miles further on and we came to Skalkaho, a hamlet consisting of one small store and a half dozen shanties, except one house, which was a two-story frame. Small as the place is, it supports a school, at which we stopped for a few minutes, and found twenty-three children busy at their lessons. . . A great deal of the land about Skalkaho is fenced in and under cultivation, irrigated from mountain streams. Immediately along the river the land is low and flat, producing heavy crops of hay.

 

Twelve miles below Skalkaho is Corvallis, a village with three small stores, a church, and quite a number of neat, private residences. Barber-poles and baby-carriages indicated that we were again within the limits of civilization. Six miles below Corvallis we went into camp on the place of Mr. Mitchell. Distance to-day 35 miles.

 

July 26 – Six miles further on we came to Stevensville, another village – similar to Corvallis. At the upper edge of the town is Saint Mary’s mission, established about 1843 by the pious and kindly hearted Father de Smet. It, with many others scattered with profusion through the Oregon country, was intended for the proselytism of the aborigines, and for a short time was eminently successful. The Indians took to the forms of conversion with avidity. They thought it big medicine. The mission, although in a feeble way, is yet in operation. On the opposite side of the town from the mission is Fort Owen, an old adobe structure, originally half fort and half trading post, built by Owen, an Indian trader, about thirty years ago. A little way below this the road crosses the river to the west side on a substantial trestle bridge, and continuing on down recrosses on another bridge about 5 miles above Fort Missoula.

 

Upon arriving at Fort Missoula we went into camp; the General was received with the customary salute and inspected the post. Arrangements were made for returning our outfit of ambulances, wagons, camp equipage, and escort to Fort Ellis where they belonged. From here to Coeur d’Alene, 230 miles, we are to travel on the Northern Pacific Railroad. The post of Missoula is located on a level, treeless plateau within the fork of the Bitter Root and Hell Gate Rivers. These streams form the Missoula, which further down unites with the Jocko, forming the Clark’s Fork of the Columbia. The post is on a bluff overlooking the valley of the Bitter Root. It is a well laid out and comfortably built post, with a garrison of four companies of the Third Infantry, under command of Major Jordan.

 

July 27 – This morning we did not strike our tents, but, packing up our traveling effects, left our camp, and crossing the level and dusty plain 5 miles to the town of Missoula, took possession of our seats in the car. A couple of hours of spare time afforded us opportunity for looking about the place. It is a town of great business activity, combined, as we were informed, with an unusual amount of wickedness of every variety. It is prettily situated on a plateau facing the Hell Gate River. South of it, within rifle shot, is the entrance to the great Hell Gate Canon, the existence of which made the construction of the Northern Pacific Railroad a possibility. The streets, decorated with worn-out cards from saloons, were picturesque with roughly clad miners, Indians with their squaws and papooses, flashily dressed gamblers, and the ubiquitous Chinaman. Less conspicuous were the more worthy citizens, many of whom paid their respects to the General at the store of Mr. Baldwin, a pioneer of the place of twenty-two year’s standing. At 9 a.m. the train started, and 20 miles from Missoula passed over the great bridge spanning the Morentz Gulch. This structure is 226 feet high and 868 feet long. It is by a few feet the highest bridge in the United States, and is perhaps the highest in the world. It is built on eight wooden towers, upon which rest wooden trusses supporting the railroad track. Soon after passing this we entered forests of firs, pines, and tamaracks, which, as we proceeded down the Columbia and around Pend d’Oreille Lake, became almost tropical in their luxuriance. The road winds around the mountains and enters the valley of the Jocko, passing by the agency of the Flatheads. Here we saw a great many Indians, assembled on business with their agent. The Flathead Agency is under the control of the Catholic Church, which here supports a Jesuit mission and has converted all of the inhabitants to at least a nominal adhesion to its faith. At the mission are excellent schools for girls and boys, a church, a convent, and a printing office. The principal of the mission, the Reverend Bishop – -, boarded our train, and, traveling with us for several miles, had a pleasant conversation with the General. At Horse Plains we dined in a canvas shanty, one of a number constituting a town newly formed upon a stumpy patch of ground, cut from the dense forest surrounding it. On our train was Chief Moses returning from Washington under charge of Captain Baldwin. With him was Tanasket, head man of the Colville Indians.

 

Although the road was in good running condition it was nevertheless unfinished and gangs of Chinamen were at work; the woods appeared to swarm with them, and the road was lined with their squalid camps. In the evening after the mosquitoes had assumed sway in the land, it was interesting to witness the activity exercised by these Asiatics in protecting their yellow legs and shaven heads from the ravenous attacks of these insects. The forest are so dense as to preclude settlement, except at great cost of labor, and we saw but few openings until we reached Lake Pend d’Oreille, where are some new sawmills, and upon the lake a steamer. For a great portion of the way the forests were on fire, requiring a strong force and great vigilance to protect the railroad. A broad swath has to be cut through the forest to preserve the road from fire and falling timber. Some of the scenery along this part of the Columbia is surpassingly picturesque. We passed around the irregular shores of Lake Pend d’Oreille just at sunset and the views were unspeakably beautiful.