Old Missoula

Peter Perry’s Pyrrhic Victory

Perry Wins From N. P., But Loses Best Friend – His Dog Dies at Post

Once more the dramatic story of the faithfulness of man’s dearest friend, a dog, has been enacted – and with the inevitable ending, the dog giving up his life rather than deviate from the simple dictates of his mind and from the lessons that canine devotion have taught through the ages.

This time, the story was enacted within a short distance of Missoula, and within easy sight of the road – within a distance where it were easy to do so had passersby taken the trouble to take care of the body decently.

The hero of the tale is a beautiful Lewellyn setter, the boon companion of Peter Perry, arch enemy of the Northern Pacific and who just yesterday received a suspension of his sentence in jail for his depredations against the great corporation. The suspension followed the signing of a quit claim deed by Perry, in consideration of $300, giving the railroad a right-of-way across his farm.

The dog died, apparently of starvation, virtually with his paws upon the doorstep of the humble shack where he had found companionship and comfort – of the only home he knew. He died of starvation with plenty surrounding him – not far from other homes and camps where certainly he could have found sustenance. But he did not leave his guard of the premises that had been left in his keeping when some strange men appeared and took his master away with them.

Peter Perry was arrested on October 1 for alleged obstruction of railroad property. He was taken to the county jail to serve out time on a previous sentence. At that time he had to leave his dog behind. On October 13, 12 days later he was sentenced to six months in the county jail because he not only admitted the charges, but he asserted that he would continue.

The charge upon which Perry was arrested was that he had constructed a fence on his property, leading to either side of the railway tracks. He then intended to put in a gate across the tracks, to charge toll for every train that was allowed to pass by. He notified the local officials that it would cost the company $1 for each train to pass through the gate after he had completed it.

It was only a couple of days later that the dog was found dead – two weeks away from his master and with six months longer of separation in sight. He was found one morning, laying stretched out, cold and frost-covered. He had died rather than leave the place where his master had left him.

Shortly after the incarceration of the old man, Justice of the Peace J. A. Hutton, working on the theory that a settlement now would restore the good-humor of Perry whereas requiring him to serve the entire jail sentence would only stir up the desire for revenge, began efforts to bring the attorneys for the railroad and for Perry together in an effort to effect a settlement. Also, Perry was not bearing up any too well under his confinement.

Then on Tuesday he was taken to a hospital. But the efforts at reconciliation still were continued. Yesterday representatives for the railroad offered $300 to their faltering enemy in exchange for a quit claim deed to the right-of-way they now occupy. It was accepted, and the old man was said to have cheered up considerably. He also signed an agreement to molest the railroad company no longer.

Following the report of the agreement, Justice Hutton lost no time in announcing the suspension of the remainder of the sentence imposed upon Perry. But the man will have to stay in the hospital for a whole longer. Once more he will follow the long route to his home, this time with an altered demeanor toward the great corporation which built the iron trail across his premises. He will find the place just as he left it, with one exception –.

He will return to the hills with an empty heart, for he will not find his old companion awaiting him. The old man, who as a proud young gunner’s mate in the Civil war worked inside the turret of the first turret ship to be introduced to warfare when the Monitor surprised the Confederates, now is broken in health and advanced in years. He has won a moral victory against a great corporation – but he has lost his closest companion.

The above article appeared in The Daily Missoulian on October 29, 1925.

The following day, October 30, French Ferguson, in his Missoulian Column, “The Oracle,” lamented Peter Perry’s victory:

Pyrrhic Peter Perry

We are glad that Peter Perry has won a victory over the Northern Pacific, even if it be somewhat in the nature of the doubtful triumph of the ancient Pyrrphus.

We, who are of the most complaisant, have the admiration of the spineless for the man who stands up for his rights against all comers, whether or not he be justified, whether or not he have the slightest prospect of ultimate victory.

There was something epic in old Peter’s scheme of establishing a toll gate on his little mountain homestead and of charging a dollar for each train to pass, in his utter contempt for the right of Eminent Domain and other regulations of civilized (so to speak) society.

And think how beautifully it would have worked – for Peter. Of course, it would have been a nuisance to have had to watch the gate and open it every time an engine should whistle on the far side of the hill, but, of course, a man can stand a little inconvenience for a frequent dollar.

It would have been like this, we imagine: The train would come to a brake-grinding stop and the engineer would lean out and curse volubly. (We suppose engineers do that, although most of the ones we’ve known have been quiet men who went to church on Sunday.) Or, perhaps, the fireman would do the vocal honors. (Firemen have less of a position to maintain and may be expected to be somewhat more informal, we suppose.) And then the conductor, all gold buttons and blue clothes and indignation, would hurry up from the end of the train (for from wherever it is that conductors come from) and hand a dollar to the prim Mr. Perry, demanding a receipt, which the custodian of the gate would fill out and sign with many a laborious grunt and grimace.

Then the engineer would let in the clutch (or whatever it is he does) and the fireman would ring the bell or shovel coal (or do his stuff, whatever it is) and the train would start. The engineer and the fireman would grin (after all there would be no lasting enmity) and the conductor would grin as his part of the train went by and the brakeman would wave from the rearmost platform – and Peter Perry would grin, bite the dollar to see if it really was a dollar and retire to his cabin to wait for the next train.

We can imagine him looking after the disappearing train with keen old eyes and muttering: “Well ye paid and ye can go through, but don’t ye try it without diggin’ up the dollar.”

“Es waer zu shoen gewesen.” [It wasn’t meant to be] However, the N. P. has paid for the first three hundred trains and Peter Perry has signed a quit-claim deed and there will be peace on his homestead in the hills.

We wonder if he drew his stubborn strength from these selfsame hills? We rather think so. Perry was old and poor, and perhaps, tired, but he never gave an inch. It’s that way with the simple folk of the high country. They are good people to leave alone, that is, to be fair with.

And how was the Perry victory pyrrhic? Didn’t you know that his best friend, his setter dog, starved to death guarding his cabin, while Peter was in jail? Yes, and the old man was not used to confinement. He’s in the hospital now.

Pyrrhic – but a victory.

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