Small Town News

Part 2: Letter reveals more challenges that Great Falls duo encounter during 1905 auto trip

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A newspaper article in the Great Falls Tribune, dated Nov. 11, 1959, recounts a time when Dr. R. P. Ross Gordon, a local physician, drove the very first automobile in Great Falls. It was June 16, 1902 when he drove his new "Locomobile" down Central Avenue to the astonishment of onlookers. The car weighed in at 500 pounds and had a 4-horsepower engine.

Three years after that automobile debuted in Montana, Dr. Gordon's niece Margaret McDonald relays a story written to her father in Scotland revealing a harrowing auto trip undertaken by Dr. Gordon and Margaret from Great Falls to Ovando (via Wolf Creek and Lincoln) in 1905.

Part One described the two getting to an area close to Wolf Creek near the Dearborn River. We pick the story up at Wolf Creek and a second leg of the journey into Lincoln. The car was evidently packed solid with needed items for the journey, including a rawhide covering.

With the heat, that rawhide was decomposing at a great rate and smell of it could almost be felt a mile away, further-more a swarm of flies had settled on the bag, and that made it doubly obnoxious. We were on the bare prairie at the time and were burning hot. Just picture a forlorn little figure arrayed in very old clothes, a red blouse, and red sunbonnet, vainly trying to keep of the sun by means of an old umbrella; then picture a broken down old car, a miscellaneous collection of stuff on the ground, and a chauffeur possessed of infinite patience mending that broken spring with ropes and wire, and you have a vague idea of what we looked like many times that day. Patience was rewarded; we packed the tonneau again and continued our journey. Still the roads got worse.

Going down a very steep hill to Wolf Creek the car stuck again; this time in shingle that had just been washed down the hill by a cloud burst. Luckily behind us was a wagon containing two men that were determined to catch the train then due, so we waited. The horses were broncos that were hardly broken in and they did not dare take them out of harness to drag the auto. On one side of us was a sheer precipice, on the other a steep hill, so these men could do nothing but put their shoulders to the wheels, and as soon as they were raised, we pushed in logs to make a track. At last the wheels gripped and we got off. Wolf Creek is beautiful; we spent the night there and took the car to the blacksmiths to get it repaired.

At 11:30 next morning we started, crossed the Wolf Creek seven times, each time we plunged through the water feeling dubious about getting out again, but the car behaved beautifully. We had to cross the highest peak of the Rockies, and I tell you tliat was an exciting climb, which should never be undertaken by anyone not possessed of iron nerves. I walked and at times ran, for occasionally it was so steep that the car refused to move, and even with all the brakes on it slipped backwards. Then I had to shove huge stones behind the wheels until the engine got a little more power. So Uncle Robert jerked the car up little by little and I came behind with the stones. At last the top was reached and I got in again. Both of us were somewhat worn out, very hot and thirsty.

I never saw anything as beautiful as the view from that pass, and all along side were wild flowers of every variety, flowers that had bloomed out in the early spring in Great Falls, but were just in their full glory on the top of the Rockies. Going down the pass on the other side was very exciting. Uncle Robert had his feet on the strongest brake, I pressed the emergency brake with all my might, and even then we flew. I had full instructions as to what to do if anything happened, but fortunately we managed the descent in safety. J don't know how Uncle Robert managed to guide the car round the sharp turns; it needed a very cool hand, nerves of steel and a mind quick to grasp every situation. Occasionally, the wheels were almost over the precipice. We were lucky in meeting no teams on the pass or on any other dangerous place. A puncture was our only hindrance then until we reached the middle fork of the Dearborn.

That creek is about 50 feet wide at the crossing and not very deep, but in case we could not get through we made our tea by the waterside and thus fortified the inner man. On we went, plunged into the water and stuck the wheels still going round making deeper holes for themselves. One of the cylinders had filled with water, so we had too little power left to move. You can imagine how blankly we looked at each other, miles from help we thought, when suddenly we heard a shout on the other side and presently saw half a dozen Great Falls men plunge into the water with their boots and stockings on. They were camping quite near that crossing and, being friends of ours, were only too glad to offer their aid.

I tell you I felt very grand sitting in state in that car being shoved through by manual force. These men never tackled anything quite so strenuous, but they succeeded. How I longed to get a picture of them, for they were the most rum looking crew I had ever laid eyes on. In town they were lawyers, editors, etc., out there they were the most picturesque, and burned tramps I ever gazed upon.

It was getting late and they urged us to stay in their camp over night -- they had six tents -- but we preferred to push on to Lincoln. The car was running like a daisy. To make our entrance most triumphal, we lit all our lamps instead of just the headlight and just as we were 100 yards from the Hotel (Lincoln only consists of the hotel and perhaps one other house) we ran on a stump and smashed up generally. It had rained for a few hours before we arrived and the roads were (More, in a bad way. Nothing could start that car. A big haying crew was stopping at that hotel and when they heard the smash they all rushed up to see what had happened. With their help we shoved the car through the mud -- I steered it as my shoving wasn't powerful enough to matter, and so we got it in front of the hotel. It wasn't many minutes before I was sound asleep.

Next morning Uncle Robert worked from 6 till 2, for he had to take the whole car to pieces. It was the most hopeless thing I ever saw, but infinite patience and a thorough knowledge of the machinery triumphed again. That morning those Great Falls fellows had passed through Lincoln to go fishing up the river, so we were on the watch for them all afternoon. Except for the scenery going across the Main Range, nothing could surpass the Lincoln Divide. When going down the other side of the Divide just at the worst place, we encountered those men and their team. With the hill on one side and the precipice on the other, there was no room to pass, so they took their horses out of the harness and made them climb up the face of the hill. Then they lifted the auto as close to the hill as possible and pulled the wagon past.

The wagon was heavily laden and that made the situation still more exciting, for it looked as if those men could not possibly carry all that weight past the auto -- you could see two wheels of the wagon hung over the precipice, the road being so narrow. Fortune was with us, everything went all right, the horses were taken down and harnessed and we all started, the men waving frantically their goodbyes to Uncle Robert and the Gypsy Queen, as they called me. After that the car ran as if possessed, just like a wild thing and was not many hours before we reached Ovando and were hugged by Mrs. Manpin, Mrs. Ferguson, Mrs. Chamberlain and little Robert.

Ovando is a very small place composed of two stores, two saloons, a tiny church, public hall, the hotel and two houses.

The final leg of the journey took Margaret and Dr. Gordon to a ranch in the Swan Valley accompanied by friends from Ovando; most likely the route taken was through what is now the Bob Marshall Wildner-ness. Her first impressions of the storied wilderness and its scenery are illustrative as she explains her experience to her father back home in Scotland.

Written communication for past generations was a flowery art and very descriptive -- unlike that of today that is hastily written, emailed or texted. In 1905 radio and television was not yet available. Few people had an opportunity to read a daily newspaper, visit by telephone or be aware of happenings to family and friends. Thus the best venue for any type of communication was the letter, which for some was likened to a short story retelling important events in one's life.



Copyright 2009 Blackfoot Valley Dispatch, Lincoln, Montana. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from SmallTownPapers, Inc.

© 2009 Blackfoot Valley Dispatch Lincoln, Montana. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

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