Old Missoula

HELLGATE’S OWN STORY.

Laura Penna.

I have seen the barbarism of the Reds change to the civilization of the Whites. I have seen the dusky Blackfoot tribe lie in ambush and with yells and screams dash upon the peaceful Flathead tribes, flourishing their tomahawks high in the air. I have gazed on the slow traveling Indian pony journeying through the canyon with his troublesome pack, stopping now and then to drink of the pure, refreshing waters. I have witnessed the gold seeker dancing with delight as the yellow dust sifted through his rough fingers. I have looked upon the rumbling stage-coach as it met its mishap with the unmerciful Indian and highwaymen. My swollen waters were often perilous to the pioneer as my banks overflowed.

But today the two flyers[1] can go without meeting the Indians as did their predecessors, the stage-coaches. My forests are being burnt down and my sides are gradually wearing away. The wild beasts no longer roam over the hills in contentment. The buffalo grounds are but a memory to the Indian, and he no longer goes through my portals to his hunting grounds. On a peaceful starlight night the noise of the Indian pow-wows are no longer heard, and the glare of the warrior’s fire no longer casts shadows over the gloom. The old Indian chief walks idly about the streets of Missoula, or else he is picked up by the sheriff, his enemy, to spend the night in a stuffy jail-room instead of his outdoor home. As I gaze on the signs of progress that go through the canyon now, I wonder what will be her progress in future years.

The above story appeared in The Daily Missoulian on March 13, 1921.

https://www.newspapers.com/image/348703114/

Other than what might be a grammatical error in one sentence, the above story is a stunning example of what one young Missoula student was able to produce – assuming that the authorship is not in dispute. (Hopefully, her teacher would have not allowed it had it been apocryphal.) The author, a seventh-grader at Whittier grade school, wrote the above story which appeared in The Missoulian’s citywide writing contest for local grade school kids. Nine youngsters submitted “Compositions” focusing on “local topics.” No particular story was finally rated above the other in a competitive sense. While all of them were interesting from a historical perspective, none of them were the equal of Miss Laura Penna’s. While her teachers surely must have recognized what they were dealing with, it doesn’t appear that Laura Penna followed a writing career. What a shame. She married Roy Means in Missoula and eventually moved to Portland where she died at the age of 51 in 1960.