Old Missoula

The following article appeared in Lolo Creek Reflections – 1999 by the Lolo Woman’s Club. Permission granted to use this copyrighted material from the book “Lolo Creek Reflections” by Stoneydale Press Publishing Company of Stevensville, Mt.

 

Tucker

            My parents, Francis August Hollensteiner, born 1850, and Wilhelmina Depping Krause, 1863, were both born in Germany but not in the same section. They both crossed the Atlantic with their parents. Father, at the age of seven, crossed in the 1850’s. Mother’s family came over about ten years later, and she was younger and didn’t remember much of her trip. A sailing vessel took about six weeks. Father thoroughly enjoyed his voyage because he was not seasick. Both families settled in Wisconsin, where, eventually, they met.

            Each was the oldest of a family of six. My father, as a young man, went west and visited around Salt Lake City when Brigham Young was the head of the Mormons. This was an interesting experience. His father had a grist mill at Kiel, Wisconsin where he usually worked.

            Eventually he and mother met and were married. She was 16 and he was 13 years older. They lived in Iowa. There, the first daughter was born. Not long after this, they started west where his two younger brothers Walter and Franklin had preceded them and had taken up land on Lolo Creek.

            My parents came west in the spring during the high water season. Often the water was over the tracks which almost floated in places, being held by the rails. The railroad went as far as Dillon and from there travel was by coach. Mother said she had trouble getting milk for her baby. I don’t envy her trip or arriving at a little log cabin with a baby and having to cook for two extra men.

            The cabin was a distance from Lolo Creek, which was their source of water. I used to listen to her stories of early days. One I remember in particular. When she went for water, she left the little one playing on the doorstep, but she kept looking back to watch the baby. When she turned around, she found herself facing a Black Bear. She had been told never to run from a bear or he’d chase her, so she walked back. “I don’t believe I could have gone any faster had I run.” Evidently the bear was as frightened as she was, because he ran the other way.

            A log house was built at a new location, very near where the present house is. Often when the men were away, Indian braves would come. They would fondle the children and examine everything. They frightened mother terribly, but little could she do. When the men showed up, they’d leave. What a relief!

            One day in March, when I was about seven, when the men and my older brothers had gone to put water in the ditches, fire caught by the stove pipe in the kitchen roof. The only source of water was a pump in the milk house nearby. They tried. I saw my mother walk up a ladder with a milk bucket of water in each hand. When they saw it was useless, we began hauling out what we could. My mother and I carried out bedding and other articles. She thought father would get the important papers, but he “lost his head.”  He got too excited and almost got burned himself. I have one chair I hauled out – it had a big pillow on it and I told Mother it was too big, so I pushed it off. Mother often said the pillow was so much more needed. We sat on our bedding and kept putting out fires from the sparks. As the men and boys drove back in sight of the house they shouted, “The house is on fire!” It was too late!

            Mother and we younger ones slept at a neighbor’s on the old Worden Ranch for a while, and the men slept in our barn.

            A temporary house was built, where we lived while the present house was being built that summer. My father bought out his brothers’ share in the place, and it was just our family’s home from then on.

            One brother moved to Missoula and worked for the Missoula Mercantile. The other prospected for gold in the near-by hills, so he still often stayed at our home. The menfolks milked about two dozen cows by hand, separated milk, and sold butter. One Sunday morning this uncle said to me, “Come, Edna, I want to show you something.” There in the barn, face down in the manure trough, was a sound asleep drunk who had walked three miles from Lolo.

            We children all went three miles to Lolo’s one room school, a log building. The Gilberts had donated the ground for the school. One day we children came to school to find the gate nailed shut. Mrs. Gilbert had decided she wanted the land back. Dr. Mills owned the adjoining land and donated a piece of ground. Neighbors got together, moved the school house over, and school went on.

            An incident similar to this happened to the church. The Gilberts had also given a small plot of ground on which to build a church. It was built and being used when my father, who was a church trustee, found out the piece of ground deeded for the church was really back on the hill.  It took some time and legal action to straighten that out and get the deed for the right land.

            I did not go to school until second grade, being taught at home due to the distance. When I was in the fifth grade, the teacher promoted me to the seventh since there was no sixth. Later seventh and eighth were combined. I took state exams in the spring, passed, and so graduated that spring 1903.

            In 1894 my father was elected to the State Legislature. This required attendance during the winter months and left handling of the farm and family to mother. My father brought me a tiny gold necklace with a gold dollar on it. I still have it. He brought mother a Montana sapphire ring.

            In 1898 my father’s parents in Kiel, Wisconsin, were to celebrate their golden wedding and wanted all six of their children present. Father told them he could not come since there was so much to be done at home. The day the family was to arrive, my grandparents sat at the window watching. “Look, there are six of them!” My mother, as usual had said she would take care of things with the boys’ help. Strange, that of the six children of that family, four settled in or near Missoula, one in Kalispell, and the other in California.

            The cream from the milking had to be churned to butter in a barrel churn. My father used to sit and read while churning. At the first few turns, the cork had to be removed to emit the gas. My father got so interested in his reading one time he forgot to replace the cork. You can imagine what happened when the churn went around.

            My mother had to make the churned butter into one pound prints. My job was to wrap each of these prints. Many a week it was late Friday night before the task was finished, but we had good visits. Each Saturday, my father took the butter to Missoula to private customers, using a spring wagon and team of sorrels. The weekly store errands were also accomplished. His treat was a bottle of coke. The family decided the butter making was much too hard on mother, so the cream was shipped to the Stevensville creamery.

            One incident I shall not forget. The Delaneys had a tall, two story building on the corner of the main highway and Cowan’s lane. The upper story was used as a dance hall. One Saturday night, my brother came home with a sad, true story. Mr. Trudeau, acting peace officer, had been shot and killed while going down the stairway. The culprit had been too long at the nearby saloon, got obnoxious, and when reprimanded by Mr. Trudeau, took revenge. He narrowly missed Bill Rock’s grandfather. The next morning at Sunday School, which met in the school house, we youngsters stood on the porch and could see this man making his way along the hillside across the Bitterroot River. He gave himself up eventually.

            We must not forget the railroad boom. A railroad was to be built up Lolo canyon. Right of way was purchased and grading began. Buildings sprang up like mushrooms all over Lolo – restaurants, stores, etc. The old Community Hall is one building remaining from that period. It, at that time, was a general store operated by Arthur Woods. The Clifford Hotel and Saloon remained for many years where the old post office was located. The old pink and white saloon on the corner and other buildings are long gone.

            When Mr. Harriman, president of one of the railroads building this road, died, the whole proposition was dropped and no railroad was ever built there. Lolo lost its boom and gradually settled down to its old type of existence.

            Mr. Gilbert was postmaster for a long time after Mr. Delaney. He used to enjoy reading any mail possible. My father therefore wrote his postal cards in German. Miss Clara Hughes followed him as postmistress until her brother Ray took over many more years. In those days it was part of a general store.

            Sunday School and church were held in the school house until the Methodists built a local church in 1909. This is gone now since the Community Church was built near the railroad track.

            There used to be daily train service with a regular passenger train aside from the freight. Passengers were plentiful during the cherry boom. Land for homes and cherry orchards was a big business in the Valley. Easterners came constantly to see and buy. The Bitter Root Inn, planned by Frank Lloyd Wright, was the center of activities. William Allen met all trains during the cherry season, selling the famous bing cherries. William was the president of Boeing Aircraft for many years. I had the pleasure of being his teacher through seventh and eighth grades. [Allen was the president of Boeing from 1945 – 1968. D.G.]

            When I went to high school, I went to Missoula by horse and buggy, usually on Sunday, and stayed with relatives in Missoula through the week. Now there are busses for the high school students.

            The building of the Rock-a-way was quite an event. Dances were held weekly with Homer and Edith Rock in charge. It was the center of social activities until it burned.

            My father was the county commissioner for six years. He, John Bonner, and Peter Schaeffer drove in a surrey throughout the region, over which they had jurisdiction. Missoula County at that time included Lake, Mineral and Sanders. If there was a commissioner’s meeting on Monday, I could ride with my father to high school.

            At that time every one took Algebra, Ancient History, Latin and English the first year in high school. Gradually, new subjects were added. I took extra ones as they were available. Thus, I got extra credits which the University honored. I can still remember how I enjoyed trigonometry.

            My older sister Anna was married in June 1904 to J. U. Williams, a school teacher. It was an outdoor wedding under the trees. I was a flower girl. They lived in Missoula, and I stayed with them when I attended high school.

            My brother Armin was married in Great Falls to Carlotta Perrine. I was an attendant there also.

            I attended my brother Arno’s wedding in California to Maud Maloney, also. He was in the artillery in World War 1 and was lucky to have come back alive. They lived in California where he was a banker. Both are long deceased.

            My brother Aurel went to Minnesota to marry Margaret Bush. While there, he went to the famous Mayo’s Hospital for an ulcer operation. Through the mistakes of a doctor, he died there and was buried in Missoula a month from his wedding day. Margaret went back to teaching and lived alone for many years.

            My youngest sister Neola graduated from the University and then taught in high school in a small town near Great Falls. There she met J. Hubert Wubben, a fellow teacher, and it was decided they should spend their lives together. They were married at the family home in the summer of 1924. Hubert continued teaching at various places until he worked in Joplin, Missouri, in 1930 in a Y.M.C.A. There Neola’s parents joined them and lived with them for several years. They celebrated their 50^th anniversary there. Hubert next became a Methodist minister in rural districts and later pastor of Methodist churches in Colorado. He was assistant pastor in the Methodist church in Sacramento until he retired. They now live in Corvallis, Oregon where they have a son who is a professor in college.

            While I attended the University my two brothers and I kept house. Armin was working in Missoula and Aurel attending high school. My last year I stayed at the dormitory. The University was a bit different than now. We had Main Hall which is still there, the dormitory, old Science Hall, a gymnasium and a new law building. There were twenty-three in our graduating class. I was eighteen so stayed at home a year before teaching. My first school was a one room rural school at Woodman. I had about thirteen regular scholars in five different grades, and my salary was $58.00. I boarded there and came home week ends.

            My next three years I taught the upper four grades of a two room school at Lolo. The building is still there. I had ninth grade one year, since it was difficult to get youngsters to Missoula. I got to school three miles by horse and buggy. There we had many interesting days. Teachers played games with the youngsters. An interesting program at Christmas was a must. The old log school house had long been replaced by a board structure to which an addition had been added as numbers increased. After three years I taught in Missoula in departmental upper grade work in the Lowell Building.

            While I was teaching at Woodman, I met James Tucker, who came through Lolo with a geodetic survey crew. After I had taught in Missoula several years, we were married in April 1918. We stayed on the home ranch for one year, then on farms at Florence and Carlton until we settled on the farm where I still live. While at Carlton we lived in the old two room school house. That was a real experience. We now had two children, Gorald and Helen. Since then my home has been at the ranch south of Lolo.

            In 1926 we learned that Jim had tuberculosis and had to go to a sanitarium in Galen. Those years were no bed of roses – an unpaid farm and five youngsters. I went back to teaching for an income. I taught at Lolo again and had upper grades. That is when I had William Allen and many others still living in the vicinity who are interesting to visit. Max Hughes, Evelyn Hughes, Emily Maclay, Bud Moore and Ted Williams are a few. Ted Williams was in Woodman school at eighteen years of age when I was nineteen. [Bud Moore is the author of The Lochsa Story – Land Ethics in the Bitterroot Mountains. D.G.]

            Those were years filled with worries, work and financial troubles, but the children were darling and we had many wonderful times together. I taught one more year at Woodman when my own children were in my school. That was my last school, except for four months at Florence when I finished up a term during World War II.

            Jim came home from Galen as an arrested case, but from then on, he was not an active worker, so the children and I had plenty to do.

            In 1936 Aurel was shot at 14 by the carelessness of a neighbor boy.

            Gerold was in the Air Force. His B17 was shot down and the crew floated until rescued. They recuperated in England. When they were back in service again, they were shot down again. This time, two were killed. Gerold landed in Belgium where the underground kept him until he was betrayed, and he spent months in a prison camp in Austria. He returned to the U. S. in 1943 on the Gripsholm and spent time in hospitals recuperating. When on his feet again, he was busy in road building. He was married in 1955.

            Soon after Gerold came home in 1945, Jim took Francis Doyle by plane to Thompson Falls to see his dad. When no one appeared at the airport to meet them, they flew back over the town and crashed. Evidently Francis had been the pilot. Both were killed. That lessened my family by two.

            Jean married Roscoe Stephens in 1946. They settled in Arizona. However, Helen married Charles Rigg in 1943 – when his service in World War II was over. They settled in Missoula, so I have three children near.

            My husband died in 1952 and I still had the ranch to handle.

            Wally took on a partner, Donna Richardson in 1952. He helped me on the farm until shortly before Gerold took [over] in 1958. Gerold has managed the farm since that time.

            In our early days in Montana, our transportation was usually horse and buggy, a team and spring wagon, or horseback. I can remember when my parents got their first car, a Reo. My brother Aurel and I learned to drive and were the chauffeurs. Windshield wipers were hand operated as well as were gear shifts. Side curtains were used in a bad storm. Twenty miles an hour was a good speed. Even though there were no paved highways, we enjoyed that car. Yet, nothing was more pleasureful than our old horse and cutter or a bobsled ride in winter.

            In 1889, there was a bad forest fire up Lolo canyon beyond Howard Creek. Since there was no forest service to fight fires, it burned for several miles on the south side. The smoke was so thick that men haying in our fields could be heard but not seen. That was before my day, but for years that stretch was all dead trees. It is now covered with new growth. Rain was our only real firefighter.

            I have said little about pleasure trips and activities. One trip to Lolo Peak would be a good example. In the early 1900’s, twelve of us, six men and six girls, took a trip to Lolo Peak. We had six horses to carry our blankets and food and which the girls were allowed to ride by turns. At night we slept in a row on the ground with a married couple in the middle and men on one side and girls on the other. One married couple preferred a separate spot. We cooked our meals over an open fire. The next morning we all climbed to the peak on foot. Mr. Durnford, Bessie Irwin and I were proud to be the first to the monument on top. The peak is over nine thousand feet high and the view is wonderful.

            Several years ago I was with another group – mostly family. We went by car as far as possible, then piled into a big truck which took us to Carlton Lake. We had lunch there and then went by foot to the top. Diane, I believe, was the first one there. We were back home by night.

            Neighborhood baseball games with other teams from other towns were a regular Sunday afternoon activity and quite exciting in summer. Skating on the Mill’s pond was a winter sport.

            Since neighbors were few and far between, families often went to each other’s homes for Sunday dinners and visiting.

            Basket socials were a money making type of activity with some active bidding used as a money making activity for church and school.

            The local weather has decidedly changed since I was a child. Our winters usually had snow from December on, but always from the first of the year. Snow was deep and stayed on, so that there was good sleighing on the road for steady use. Ice on bodies of water was used for the ice houses in the summer, because there was no electricity, so no refrigeration. Kerosene lamps and gas lanterns were our light systems with candles to fill in. Later, chinook winds became more prevalent and our snow would melt. Now, we have heavy snow at times, but often times very little.

            Now rural Lolo has practically disappeared. There are few farms left. Homes are on the hillsides and bottomlands and in between. Many people who have jobs or a business in Missoula live here. The through highways up the Bitterroot or Lolo canyon to the coast and points between are very busy with little resemblance to pioneer roads and trails.

            I am still living in the home where I brought up my children. I used to spend a winter month with my daughter Jean in Arizona. I was always busy with church and community activities.

            In 1967, I was chosen “Mother of the Year” for the State of Montana. This gave me many delightful local activities and a wonderful trip to New York for the annual meeting.

            I am grateful that I had a taste of pioneer life. Since my brother, Armin, passed away in January 1976, my younger sister and I survive. I am one of the few pioneers, still living, who were born in Lolo.

Edna Hollensteiner Tucker

 

Below is the obituary for Gerold H. Tucker from the Missoulian on Jan. 20, 2013.  

          Missoula – Gerold H. Tucker, 93, died peacefully with family by his side on Thursday, Jan. 17, 2013, at Village Health Care Center, Missoula.

Gerold was born March 14, 1919, in Missoula to James P. and Edna Frances Henrietta (Hollensteiner) Tucker. In 1921 his parents moved to Lolo and bought the family ranch on Mormon Creek where he lived, worked and enjoyed so much. He attended Lolo Grade School for first through fifth grade, Woodman School for sixth grade, and back to Lolo for seventh and eighth grades. He graduated from Missoula County High School in 1936.

Growing up in the 1920s and 30s was never easy. His father raised and sold teams of Percheron draft horses and raised cattle and potatoes. It was his job to break these teams to the harness. He often said that as soon as a team was just getting ready to pull well together they were sold and a new team had to be started. He broke his first riding horse at age 8 and was able to run every piece of horse-drawn equipment by the time he was 12, which was a feat that he was proud of. After graduation he continued to run the ranch until 1939. He then went to work for Rossignol Logging, hooking logs and later driving logging trucks until 1941 when duty called.

Gerold entered the 91st bomb group 322nd squadron of the U.S. Air Corps. He was assigned to a B17 bomber as a waist gunner and radio operator. In August of 1943 his plane was shot down over Belgium while returning from a bomb raid. After being severely injured he was able to hide in the Belgium underground for a few months before being double-crossed and turned over to the Germans.

He became a POW of World War II at Stalag 17 POW camp until September of 1944. He then returned to the States after participating in a prisoner of war exchange and spent a year in Walla Walla, Wash., at a military rehab center. He received two Purple Hearts and a silver star for his war effort that he was very proud of but spoke very little about. In 1945 he returned to Lolo to work on the ranch. He left the ranch and went to work for Zadra Logging, skidding logs from 1947-1950. His skills as a caterpillar operator led him into road construction. He worked for Miller and Strong, Bud King Construction and Rossignol Logging, running road jobs in Hungry Horse, McCall, Idaho, Libby, Perma, Trout Creek, Lochsa and Mormon Peak Lookout.

In 1955 he met and married Myrtle Spencer while in the construction business. In 1957 they returned to the ranch in Lolo to raise cattle until selling it in 1979. In 1980 he married Jean Rock and they spent the following years on numerous fishing trips with friends to Holter, Hauser, Canyon Ferry, and Clark Canyon in search of the biggest fish. They were also able to take an extended trip to Australia with friends which they enjoyed.

In 1993, 50 years after being in World War II, he was able to return to Belgium with his son to visit the families that cared and protected him after his B17 was shot down. It was a very memorable and emotional trip.

He loved tending to his garden throughout his retirement years and spent countless hours fighting weeds. He so enjoyed giving away raspberries, tomatoes and corn to all his family and friends. He also enjoyed his two daily trips to Lolo to visit his coffee club friends and Saturday morning breakfasts. He had a gruff exterior but a heart of gold once you found your way inside.

He is survived by his wife, Jean; son Gary (Becky) of Lolo; daughter Jodie (John) Mackey of Hamilton; brother Wallace (Wally) of Missoula; grandchildren, Jessica (Brian) Overbaugh, Garrett Tucker, Marissa Tucker, Michael Martin, Mariah Martin; and numerous nieces and nephews.

He was preceded in death by his parents; brothers, Aurel and James Tucker; sisters, Helen Rigg and Jean Stephens.

A special thanks to all of his coffee club friends who he will dearly miss; to Auntie Jean, Greg, Willis, Sandi and Jim for their time spent helping with Dad; and a special thanks to all the nurses , CNA’s, and staff at the Village Health Care Center.

Thoughts to remember him by:

driving off his mountain early every morn,

looking at an empty coffee cup so forlorn,

a shining star on the hill at Christmas time,

a fresh bag of veggies delivered off the vine,

a weed that needs plucked,

a windrow of hay neatly tucked,

a grandchild waiting to play a game,

a family man wanting no fame,

a shrug of a shoulder,

a rock garden needing a boulder,

a man of few words but very wise,

a kind, gentle man in disguise,

a man always willing to help those in need,

a freshly plowed field needing new seed,

a “good afternoon” to those late to arrive,

a favorite saying “I’m still alive,”

a serious game of pool to those who dared,

a man whose friends knew he cared,

a faithful cat never far from his lap,

a pesky skunk caught in his trap,

a Sunday morning sourdough hot off the grill,

a horse packing trip was a very rare thrill,

a hardworking man whose memory won’t fade,

a man who seldom took a moment to sit in the shade,

a sports fan who faithfully tracked his teams,

a life path was set changing his dreams,

a nickname was given to all that were dear,

a bounty of friends both far and near,

a man that held fishing as a passion,

a dirty old felt hat way out of fashion,

a man of eighty-five still cutting wood,

a man who would be riding “Big Red” if he could,

a papa giving the wagon a push or a tug,

a grandchild that needs a big hug,

a man we are thankful to God to have had,

a man we are proud to have called “Dad.”