The Story of Man In Yellowstone

by Merrill D. Beal

The Helena Tourist Party

Other Yellowstone visitors were caught in the Nez Percé net as it rolled across the Park. It has been sufficiently indicated that Chief Joseph maintained a role of dignified restraint, but there were unprincipled factions under less responsible leadership which he could not keep under his thumb. While the main tribe was slowly weaving its course through the Park some of the reckless young men were foraging far and wide. It is also correct to observe that bitter resentment had been smoldering toward the entire white race since the battle of Big Hole. The Nez Percé were inclined to regard every white man as an enemy.

This Indian psychology, or “bad heart,” helps account for the conduct of a marauding band of White Bird’s “bucks” toward a party of Helena tourists north of Hayden Valley. There were ten men in this company: A. J. Weikert, Richard Dietrich, Frederick Pfister, Joseph Roberts, Charles Kenck, Jack Stewart, August Foller, Leslie Wilkie, L. Duncan, and a negro cook named Benjamin Stone.

On the morning of August 25 this party was traveling along between Sulphur Mountain and Mud Volcano when they observed a body of horsemen fording the river. They correctly apprehended that the mounted men were hostile Nez Percé.[203] Thereupon, the tourists hastily repaired to the timber near the forks of Otter Creek and formed camp. It was a well-chosen position and might have been defended effectively if the natural advantages had been utilized.

However, no harm came to them that day or night. The next morning Weikert and Wilkie went reconnoitering in the vicinity of Alum Creek where they encountered a detail of the marauders. The white men retreated speedily, but Weikert was hit in the shoulder in the exchange of fire.

In the meantime the camp on Otter Creek was raided. Instead of posting a lookout the campers were huddled together, waiting for dinner, and hoping they would continue to escape notice. Mr. Kenck’s mind was active with forebodings; addressing the elderly colored cook, he said, “Stone, what would you do if the Indians should jump us?” Stone laconically replied, “You all take care ob yoursel’ and I’ll take care ob me.”[204] In that instant the Nez Percé struck. The eight tourists scattered like surprised deer. Kenck was hit and killed; Stewart was shot, fell, and was overtaken. He pleaded so earnestly for his life that he charmed their savage impulse and was spared. Dietrich fell in the creek and remained there four hours.

Ben Stone ran as fast as his old legs would carry him, but in midstream they gave out, and he lay prone in the water. The red men left as suddenly as they came. When Wilkie and Weikert arrived they fell in with some of the others and started for Mammoth. Joseph Roberts and August Foller had slipped away, and as it later transpired they went west to Madison River and thence to Virginia City and home. The other seven reached Mammoth, where Dietrich and Stone unfortunately decided to remain pending the arrival of Roberts and Foller. Dietrich had promised young Roberts’ mother that he would be responsible for his safe return.

On August 31, Weikert and McCartney, the “hotel” owner, left for the Otter Creek campground to look for the two missing men and to inter the remains of Mr. Kenck. The latter business accomplished, they were returning when the renegades, who had just committed a fresh deed of vengeance at Mammoth, met them at the falls of East Gardner River. A lively skirmish ensued, in which Weikert’s horse was killed and the others got away, before a sheltered position was reached. The desperadoes withdrew, and the white men pursued a cautious course to Mammoth. It was in this stage of their journey when McCartney, observing that Weikert was pale as a ghost, asked, “Do I look pale?” “No,” replied his friend, “Do I?” McCartney answered, “No.” Each was trying hard to “buck up” the other’s morale.[205]

Upon reaching Mammoth they learned about Dietrich’s fate. On August 31 he and Stone saw a band of Indians pass McCartney’s place. They were Nez Percé on their way to Henderson’s ranch which they ransacked and burned. The next day, when they returned, Ben Stone made a precipitous exit from the cabin and ran up Clematis Gulch. Dietrich, evidently believing the Indians friendly, stood in the doorway. They shot and killed him. Several days before he had expressed a premonition of death to Weikert. In view of this condition his conduct was attributed to inexperience.

Ben Stone, it will be remembered, was the colored cook who had a narrow call in the Otter Creek melee. This second escapade was even a closer shave. Stone evidently possessed sufficient of the quaint humor characteristic of his race to warrant the perpetuation of an amusing frontier tale.

Following is the story, as related by Stone to the men at Henderson’s ranch, before he had fully recovered from his scare. The account begins at the end, wherein the negro was challenged by a sentry as he approached the camp:

“‘Halt, who comes dar?’ ‘Ben Stone.’ ‘Come in, Ben Stone.’ An’ you bet I come a-runnin’.” Then he rehearsed the day’s activities in this wise:

“I seed de Injuns comin’ aroun’ in de foah-noon dis mornin’. I tole Dietrich we had better be a gettin’ out ob dis, but he kept a sayin’ ‘I’ll neber go back to Mrs. Roberts widout Joe.’ ’Bout ’leven or twelve o’clock Dietrich says, ‘I’ll go down an’ change de hosses, re-picket dem, while you git dinnah, Ben.’ ‘I say “all right.”

“Well, while he was gone a changin’ ob de hosses, I looked out ob de doah an’ seed a Injun stick his head up ober a rock out in front ob de house. I didn’t wait for no lebe, I didn’t, an’ dropped eberyting an’ bolted trew de back doah, I did, up into de timbah an’ laid down awaitin’ for somethin’ to do next. I seed de Injuns all ’bout de house an’ pears like dey was mighty anxious to fine me, but I wasen’t anxious to fine dem. It war gettin’ along towards night, and I clim a tree. Purty soon a big Injun rode right down under de tree a searchin’ aroun’ for me. I jes hel’ my bref an’ say to myself, ‘Oh Mr. Injun; good Mr. Injun, don’t look up dis way!’ Boys, I ’clare to goodness I could hab touched dat Injun’s head wif my foot—but I didn’t!

“Bye’m-bye de Injun go away down towards de springs an’ I got down on to de ground an’ strike for de side ob de mountain whar I laid down. I was a layin’ in de brush, when all ob a sudden I heerd a crackin’ in de brush. Den, boys, I got right down on my knees an’ prayed (an’ I hope de God Almighty forgive me, I neber prayed before sense I lef’ my modder’s knee), but I jes got down an’ say ‘O Lod God A’mighty, jes help me out ob dis scrape an’ I will neber interfere wid you no moah!’ I heerd dis noise an’ a crashin’ in de bushes again, an’ I jes laid down wid my face to de ground an’ I spected to feel de tom hawk in de back of my head. All ob a sudden I turned ober and dar I seed a big black bar a lookin’ at me. Boys, I neber was so glad to see a bar afore in all my life. De bar he got up an’ run, an’ I got up an’ run to de top ob de mountain when I saw youah camp fire an’ heah I’ is—bress de Lod!”[206]

At the conclusion of this delineation two of Lieutenant Doane’s friendly Indian scouts rushed toward Stone with arms extended, exclaiming “How, how!” The distraught negro nearly fainted from a fresh attack of fright. No amount of explanation could convince him they were not after his scalp. Indeed, he was certain that the larger buck was Chief Joseph himself![207]

Finally his friends Weikert and McCartney arrived, and thereafter his emotions switched around to unrestrained gratitude to his maker. The rest of the night was given over to lusty expressions of praise and hallelujahs. When objections were raised Stone replied that God had saved his life twice and he was going to thank Him as long and loud as he liked. Lieutenant Doane was forced to post a guard to maintain the peace.

At this time word arrived that Roberts and Foller were in Virginia City. The remains of poor Dietrich, who had been sacrificed so unnecessarily, were taken to Helena by Weikert. He also took the remains of Charles Kenck there for final interment.

General Howard leisurely pursued the fleeing Nez Percé marauders up the Lamar Valley after repairing Baronett’s bridge which they had partially burned. In the meantime, Joseph’s main band had crossed Yellowstone River, near Mud Volcano, and followed the east bank toward the lake. Shively, their captive guide, directed them up Pelican Creek to its source. Here Joseph’s scouts reported the presence of miners on the Lamar and Howard’s spies in the area. The scouts further noted that Colonel Sturgis and eight troops of the Seventh Cavalry from the Crow Agency on the Little Rosebud were in position astride the regular Absaroka Pass near Hart (Heart) Mountain. Joseph was now cut off between the commands of Howard and Sturgis.

This situation demanded desperate action. The threat of interception brought forth a masterful stratagem from the Red Napoleon. Upon reaching the Lamar-Shoshone Divide, Joseph turned abruptly southward. Was he striking for Stinking Water? Sturgis could not risk this chance. He, therefore, whirled in that direction, pursuing a parallel course—the summit dividing their forces.

Joseph’s feint worked; he passed by Sturgis’ right flank. He now doubled back beyond the main Absaroka gateway, toward Clarks Fork, and plunged through a “hidden” pass located by his feverish scouts. He fairly hurled his people over the rocky barrier and dropped them pell-mell down to Clarks Fork.[208] It was his task to get the protection of the Crow Indians, cross the Buffalo country, and reach Canada and safety.

By the time Colonel Sturgis had discovered the deception General Howard arrived. Indeed, he was already painfully pursuing the elusive foe through the awful earth gash Joseph had taken. When the two officers met there was an impressive demonstration of cussing. Wasn’t there a unit in the whole United States’ Army that could outwit this red devil?

Spurred by the barbed goad of frustration and anger, Sturgis pressed on in hot pursuit. On September 13, his troops were in their saddles at 5 A.M. When they drew rein at 12 P.M. sixty miles had been negotiated. Joseph’s band was still ahead! By daybreak the soldiers were on the trail again. They halted on the lower Yellowstone, near Billings. Discouragement pervaded their ranks; by common consent the Seventh Cavalry was ready to quit.[209] They felt a comrade’s compassion for General Howard’s command.

Two miles away the Nez Percé were headed for the mouth of Canyon Creek. “Let’s beat ’em to it,” and away they sped. The Indians gained the protection first. Officers Benteen, Otis, French, and Merrill’s battalions maneuvered bravely and well, but the watchful Nez Percé kept them back. There was rapid sharp shooting on both sides. When they finally broke through the Indians had disappeared.

Strewn upon the dusty battlefield were a dozen dead horses, five soldiers dead and eleven wounded. Night fell, and a cool wind drummed a funeral dirge upon the mind of many a restless soldier. When General Howard arrived the next day Sturgis was still on the trail. A band of Crow Indians had joined the white forces and were spoiling for a fight, but Sturgis had already wind-broken his horse and run out of rations. The Indian pace was too fast for him, but the rapidity of this flight forced them to abandon nine hundred horses.[210] However, Chief Joseph’s pony supply was augmented by a wholesale seizure from the Crows. He had crossed the Musselshell; next he would ford the Missouri which would bring them within the protection of Montana’s northern wastelands. Canada was not far away. Howard could never catch him now. Perhaps there would be time to kill some buffalo, feed their weary ponies, and rest their squaws.

He was reckoning without the telegraph and the ambitious interest of Colonel Nelson A. Miles at Fort Keogh on Tongue River. On September 17, a rider brought Howard’s S. O. S.; immediately Colonel Miles was all action. That very day he had three hundred and eighty-three men across Tongue River and on the march. Twenty-four hours later they were fifty miles away. They crossed the Musselshell River and marched on to the Missouri, where a steamboat ferried them across. Ever crowding men and beasts, he caught up with the Nez Percé on the twenty-ninth of September.

Joseph had made sure that Howard and Sturgis were far behind. In fact, they were deliberately slow. “We must not move too fast lest we flush the game.” Actually both of their commands were much depleted. The real job was up to Miles; they were providing the decoy. This time it worked.

Again, as at Big Hole, Joseph failed to anticipate trouble from other quarters than Howard’s. The one-armed general was six days’ march in the rear. Surely they could relax now. Upon reaching the Bear Paw Mountains he considered his position secure. He posted no scouts. Joseph obviously believed they had crossed the international boundary. Later, as he looked back in retrospection, he said:

I sat down in a fat and beautiful country. I had won my freedom and the freedom of my people. There were many empty places in the lodges and the council, but we were in a land where we would not be forced to live in a place we did not want. I believed that if I could remain safe at a distance and talk straight to the men that would be sent by the Great Father, I could get back to the Wallowa Valley and remain in peace. That is why I did not allow my young men to kill and destroy the white settlers after I began to fight. I wanted to leave a clean trail, and if there were dead soldiers on that trail, I could not be to blame. I had sent out runners to Sitting Bull to tell him that another band of red men had been forced to run from the soldiers of the Great Father, and to propose that we join forces if we were attacked. My people were recovering their health and the wounded getting better of their hurts.[211]

Joseph’s coveted felicity was roughly arrested on the dawn of September 30. His brief respite was assailed by the dual forces of nature and men. Snow flurries whipped the lodge flaps. Horses milled restlessly. An Indian youth slipped out to reconnoiter. He perceived the rapid approach of a formidable force of cavalry. The alarm was given.

Instantly the Nez Percé camp was churning with commotion. A hundred ponies were laden with squaws and papooses. They fled north under an escort of sixty braves. The balance of the encampment fairly clawed out positions of defense along a crescent-shaped ravine called Snake Creek.

By this time the military was in position. Colonel Miles sized up the situation at a glance and barked commands: “Captain Hale, draw up on the south flank.” “McHugh, mount the Hotchkiss and wheel forward.” “Infantry, deploy and follow cavalry charge; swing the four-pound howitzer to north.” “Troops of Second Cavalry, surround enemy pony herd.” “Lieutenant McClernand, retrieve the fleeing train.” “Main cavalry, ready for frontal assault.” He surveyed the resulting formation, raised his arm, and shouted, “Attack!”[212]

Reins were loosed, spurs clicked, and away rolled a thundering avalanche of mounted might. The charging line raced headlong toward the Indian camp. It was the same speed and precision that had broken the power of the Sioux and Cheyenne nations. The Nez Percé grimly waited. At a hundred yards they opened fire, and the battle broke with a roar.

In the wake of the charge were fifty-three soldiers dead or wounded. K Troop lost over sixty per cent of their complement. Joseph’s camp was cut in twain, but the position could not be forced, and the cavalry passed through. The Nez Percé settled deeper into their entrenchments, and a state of siege ensued. However, the Colonel’s pony detail succeeded in rounding up the Indian ponies. The Nez Percé were now on foot. That night a six-inch mantle of snow fell. Continuous fire was sustained the next day. Then a parley was arranged. Joseph was promised a safe conduct. He accepted but was made a prisoner. However, the Nez Percé captured an officer named Jerome and held him as hostage for Joseph. Terms were proposed. Miles demanded unconditional surrender, but Chief Joseph exacted a promise to return his people to the Lapwai Reservation. This Miles granted.[213]

On October 4, the fifth day of the siege, Joseph led his haggard people out of their camp. His head was bowed in awful solemnity. As he approached a cluster of officers, including General Howard, he straightened up and dismounted with dignity. Impulsively he presented his rifle to Howard, but the general motioned him to “Bear Coat” Miles.

After disarmament the great chief stepped forward, raised his arm in a sweeping motion toward the reddening sun, and intoned the requiem of a dying race:

Tell General Howard that I know his heart. What he told me before I have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead, Tu-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who now say yes or no. He who led the young men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people—some of them have run away to the hills and have no blankets and no food. No one knows where they are—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.[214]

The Montana sun was going down; Hin-mut-too-yah-lat-kekht had spoken as its rays flickered.

The officers came forward and shook his hand. As he turned away, drawing his blanket over his head, the white soldiers discerned five bullet holes in his blanket and wounds on his forehead and wrist.

There was something about this leader that tugged at their heart strings as he beckoned his children toward their prison camp. There were four hundred and twelve survivors, including forty-six wounded. Twenty-six Indians and twenty-seven white men (plus Miles’ two Indian scouts) had been slain. Joseph’s conduct in burying the dead and in ministering to his half-starved and freezing people elicited the admiration of all. As the handsome, plucky chieftain assuaged their sorrow he seemed greater than any one man. Surely, here was the embodiment of the Nez Percé, indeed, of all Indian people. In his person were combined elements both noble and tragic. He was the last best specimen of a truly native race.

By nature Joseph was a modest man and inclined toward peace and good will. Events forced him into a role that has won eternal fame. Even General Sherman, who entertained no high sentiments for Indians, could not withhold his meed of praise:

Thus has terminated one of the most extraordinary Indian wars of which there is any record. The Indians throughout displayed a courage and skill that elicited universal praise; they abstained from scalping; let captive women go free; did not commit indiscriminate murders of peaceful families and fought with almost scientific skill, using advance and rear guards, skirmish lines and field fortifications.[215]

Other competent authorities have gone further. One ventured the asseveration that:

Had Joseph led thousands and had he been born of a people and in a place less remote from the main currents of history, his name would resound in our ears like thunder.[216]

As it is, the tale of the Nez Percé retreat, surrender, and burning years of their exile strike a mournful note upon the ears of men.

At Bear Paw a long “trail of tears” began for Joseph and his people. There was the solemn trek to Fort Keogh, thence to Bismarck, on to Fort Leavenworth, and finally to a small Oklahoma reserve. This was virtually a sentence of death for these mountain-bred people.[217] Miles could not make his promise good. Joseph was depressed by the increasing time and distance. Said he, “The Great Spirit Chief who rules above seemed to be looking some other way and did not see what was happening to my people.”

Many government officials called upon Joseph (“White men have too many chiefs”). Promises were lightly made (“Look twice at a two-faced man”). Resolutions were circulated (“Big name often on small legs”). The wise chief was learning the ways of his masters.

W. S. Chapman
Indian war club and peace pipe.

Joseph’s conqueror became his truest friend. Miles, a general now, kept working to fulfill his vow. Said he:

I frequently and persistently, for seven long years, urged that they be sent home to their own country but not until 1884, when I was in command of the Department of the Columbia, did I succeed in having them returned west of the mountains near their own country.[218]

In 1885, after they had been ravaged by sickness and death, the remnant of the Nez Percé tribe was established on the Colville Reservation in Washington state. Here Joseph’s declining years were spent in the companionship of his wives and children, until his death on September 21, 1904. There, among a vast concourse of white and Indian people, Thunder-Traveling-to-Loftier-Heights was gathered to his fathers.

Chapter XII
TRAVEL AND ACCOMMODATIONS—NEW BUSINESSES

The narration of trapper and miner visits and the account of final discovery have already described the difficulties of early travel in Yellowstone. Little segments of animal and Indian trails were all that broke the untraveled wilderness. Since no funds were available for any purpose before 1877, the trail building progress made before that date was negligible.[219] Until that time all visitors came on horseback, but while they generally went to the same places their approaches were different. Each outfit carried axes, and at least a modicum of effort had to be expended along the way. Such had been the way of mountain men. They did not expect someone else to build their roads; neither did they expect anyone to tell them where to go or camp. Therefore, it was every outfit to itself; still, companionship claimed its due, and groups sometimes fell into line and traveled together.

A perusal of old journals shows that packsaddle trips were always thrilling. It was by pack horse that the presidential party of August, 1883 visited the Park. It traveled three hundred and fifty miles, making nineteen camps during its sojourn. The personnel included the following: President Chester A. Arthur, Secretary of War Robert T. Lincoln, Senator George Graham Vest, General Phil H. Sheridan, General Anson Stager, Colonel Michael V. Sheridan, Colonel J. F. Gregory, Captain Philo Clark, Governor Schuyler Crosby (Montana), Judge Rawlins, and Official Photographer Frank Jay Haynes.[220] They had a grand time, and thereafter Yellowstone never lacked friends in high places.

One account tells of traveling three hundred and fifty miles in twenty-four days. Fish were caught in handfuls, horses caved in geyser formations, and Indians were seen. All of these activities were duly reported to a keenly interested American public. Indeed, a general concern for the President’s security was aroused. This natural anxiety gave occasion for a rumor that the President’s safety was in jeopardy, not from accident, wild animals, or Indians, but rather from a gang of desperadoes. A dispatch bearing the postmark of Hailey, Idaho, stated that a large band of Texas criminals had been observed in a mysterious ceremonial at Willow Park in Yellowstone. According to the report, each man swore by his dagger to do his duty, which was no less than the capture of the President of the United States and his entire party. The captives would then be held in a wilderness cavern until a ransom of one million dollars had been paid!

W. S. Chapman
Stagecoach.

The alarming report that “They are after Arthur!” was followed by the reassuring word that Sheriff Farcy and a company of United States troops were investigating the reported conspiracy. Certainly the presidential expedition was enveloped in an atmosphere of high romance![221]

It is said that camping trips have always been ideal testers of friendship. Camp life is an excellent form of association because it is bound to disclose every character trait. Each virtue is surely tried, and every vice is certain to show itself. Wit, cheerfulness, patience, and industry were in demand, and their opposites greatly discounted. Some knowledge of cooking, washing, caring for animals, and tying the diamond hitch was essential. Good hunters and fishermen were popular in these camps. Skill in constructing fir-bough lean-tos against storms and couches for sleeping came in handy. Last of all, the gift of storytelling and song made its possessor the head of the nightly campfire circle. Were these the people the poet envisioned?

Keep not standing fix’t and rooted,

Briskly venture, briskly roam;

Head and hand, where’er thou foot it,

And stout heart are still at home.

In each land the sun does visit

We are gay, whate’er betide:

To give room for wandering is it

That the world was made so wide.[222]

Pack outfit owners were a lusty sort. Some of them divided their time between acting as guides and slaughtering game for both meat and hides. A few were wholly unscrupulous, both in their exploitation of the tourists and the Park.[223] Still others were high-type frontiersmen. A description has been left of one Texas Jack, named John Omohondro, originally from Virginia:

He is tall, powerfully built, and as he rode carelessly along, with his long rifle crossed in front of him, he was a picture. He was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, and wore a flaming red neckerchief, a broad sombrero fastened up on one side with a large eagle feather, and a pair of beautifully beaded moccasins. The costume of the man, his self-confident pose, and the quick, penetrating glance of his keen black eye, would give the impression that he was no ordinary mountaineer.[224]

Still, Texas Jack was quite typical of most mountain scouts, being a man of life and blood and fire, blazing with suppressed excitement in a land of high adventure.

Although the stagecoach took over most of the tourist business after 1880 a few reliable pack masters remained in business. Among these was the firm of Grant, Brogan and Lycan of Bozeman, which conducted a seven-day tour for thirty dollars per person. Jordan and Howell of Cody had a fourteen-day schedule, while Howard Eaton, in his day, personally guided more than a hundred parties around the Park on a twenty-day tour.[225] In 1923 the trail he used was improved, named, and dedicated to his memory. The Howard Eaton Trail parallels the Grand Loop highway. It is maintained by the government and is one of the most scenic bridle paths in America. It was hoped that many people would take advantage of this facility, but its public use is meager.

Travel by stage in Yellowstone was started in 1878 and concluded in 1917. Since a generation of Americans saw the Park in that manner, a description of the procedure would be appropriate. The stagecoach itself was a remarkable vehicle. It was substantially built, quite commodious, and reasonably comfortable. Concord coaches were used; they varied in capacity from seven to as many as thirty-three seats and were drawn by four or six horses, according to size. Great leather springs, called thorough braces, produced a swaying motion which absorbed all but the most violent shocks. The driver’s seat was perched above the body of the coach and underneath was a compartment for mail sacks and express packages. There was a strong platform in the rear of the coach upon which trunks and suitcases were loaded. Harness and other gear were always of the best grade and condition.

Several hundred thousand passengers were taken through Yellowstone by stagecoaches during the thirty-eight years of their operation. The drivers, therefore, were necessarily men of experience and resourcefulness. Indeed, they were a sovereign group and the cynosure of eyes as they cracked their whips and moved three span of horses away at a half-gallop, half-trot, trained, showy style. They were held in high esteem, as well they might be, for each held a position requiring judgment and skill. Several expert drivers who “tooled” Yellowstone coaches were William Woolsey, Hub Counter, and Oscar Scoda. They were firm in resolution, yet polite in manner, and obliging toward passengers. Generally:

... they were good entertainers, capable of making what would otherwise be a long, tedious night ride seem entirely too short to the passenger, who was fortunate enough to have a seat on the box beside him, and hear him relate his experiences with Indian and stage robber.[226]

The driver’s sole duty consisted of handling the stage while on the line; others attended to the feeding and harnessing of the horses, but the teams knew their drivers and responded amazingly to their wills. A driver could flick a fly off the back of his team leaders and bring back his lash without tangling it in the harness or wagon wheels. Day and night these “kings of the whip” flung and pulled the “silk” to those fleet creatures of nature, and over their strength and fears they were ever masters. “Clear the road! Get out of the way thar with your draft teams!” was their good-natured salutation as they swung into view, only to disappear at high speed around a curve or through the lodgepole-lined road. Unrelaxed, they were ever watchful for gullies, boulders, and road agents. As they approached a station they forced their horses into full gallop and brought their coaches up with a grand flourish before the ever-expectant crowd on hand, waiting for friends or the mail. One driver boasted that he could drive his outfit down Beehive Geyser and come out of Old Faithful without losing a hair!

The advantages of travel by stage included interesting acquaintances and fresh views into human nature. Close quarters in the wilderness have always been a touchstone, even thus lightly approached. The regular trip lasted five days and always seemed too short. One tourist regretfully observed, “Nothing can be done well at a speed of forty miles a day.”[227] As the stage prepared to pull out some would climb up the sides of the coaches and squeeze into the open seats on the roof. There, each obtained an unobstructed view of the landscape and a good sunburn. Others, less agile or venturesome, would remain in the interior, satisfied with less elevation, wind, and sun, and nearly as much advantage in sight-seeing.

There they sat, side by side, hour after hour, old and young, full of hope and fun and care. Some watched the scenery; others, the horses. All asked questions—some of them intelligent and well-conceived, some naïve, and still others ludicrous. They were usually addressed to the driver, as though skill in handling horses and familiarity with the area gave authority. Unfortunately, few drivers understood what they daily saw; still, as a defense against frustration, many acquired a knowing air. Great guesses were made, and occasionally the tourists were deliberately misled. Generally the driver’s observations were offered in a spirit of fun to keep the folks from drooping. A few examples have been recorded. Driving among the Hot Springs on the Mammoth Terraces, one guide shouted, “Them as likes their bath hot goes in on the left, and them as likes it cold goes in on the right, and them as likes it middlin’ goes in the middle.”[228]

At Norris Geyser Basin the following conversation was heard: One tourist speaking to another, “If we’re too late to see the Monarch Geyser erupt tonight, we’ll go over and see him before breakfast.” To which the driver replied, “No you can’t, the Monarch Geyser is a monarch up here in the Park. You can’t go see him when you get ready; you’ve got to go when he’s ready.”[229]

One Münchausen-minded guide informed his passengers that any geyser water, when bottled, retained a strange sympathy with its water nymph, so that when the geyser erupted the water became violently agitated; in one instance a bottle was shattered incident to a particularly powerful eruption! Many such stories were told by “Buckskin Charley,” “Yankee Jim,” “Billy” Hofer, and their compatriots. Rudyard Kipling left this description of Yankee Jim:

Yankee Jim was a picturesque old man with a talent for yarns that Ananias might have envied.... Yankee Jim saw every one of my tales and went fifty better on the spot. He dealt in bears and Indians—never less than twenty each.[230]

Courtesy Northern Pacific Ry.
“Yankee Jim”—James George

James George, better known as “Yankee Jim,” was a pioneer hunter and trapper who staked his claim in Yankee Jim Canyon of Yellowstone River, north of Cinnabar and Gardiner. He shrewdly built twenty-seven miles of toll road through the only available pass. Yankee Jim delighted in joshing the lady members of early parties concerning the prospects of bestowing a bit of affection upon him in lieu of the tolls. Little is known concerning his success in that direction, but he dealt effectively with the Northern Pacific Railroad in the matter of a right of way through his canyon.

As time passed, many people who were beyond the “gape-and-run” variety complained about the lack of a dependable source of information. The quips of guides who did not know a marmot from a cony actually displeased them. However, there were occasions when even these talkative fellows had the good taste to be silent.

They will talk of the Canyon at the hotel and on the drive, but once there they simply lead you to the points of lookout and leave you with your own thoughts, or answer your questions in monosyllables.[231]

After a long trip on a warm day, through clouds of Yellowstone dust, the passengers presented an amusing spectacle. Men in yellow dusters, women in gray ones, topped off by Shaker bonnets. Hungry, weary, and dejected, they would alight on limbs half-paralyzed from inactivity. It was then that a person needed a friend, and that detail was not overlooked by the hotel management.

Perhaps Larry Matthews was more unique than typical, but a description of him will convey the idea of nineteenth-century Park hospitality. For several seasons Larry was chargé d’affaires at the Norris lunch station. Later he was advanced to the management of an inn at Old Faithful. When coaches pulled up to Larry’s he would address each passenger in his genial Irish brogue. Every man received a title of dignity, while he referred to himself as the “Mad Irishman” or “Larry Geeser.” Here is a picture of Larry in action:

Step right up, Judge, eat all you can, break the company, it’s all right with me. Fine spring lamb (spring of ’72). Eggs, fresh eggs! Just laid this morning (on the table).

Thus he kept up a constant rattle that was very funny. As the coaches rolled away one could hear the tourists remark, “The jolliest man I ever saw ... such hypnotic ways, such spontaneous wit; surely no such mortal ever lived before.”[232]

This growing business of transportation and accommodations was characterized by vigorous competition. Probably the first conveyance to enter the Park was a stagecoach owned by J. W. Marshall and his partner, named Goff. It left Virginia City, Montana, on October 1, 1880. Sixteen hours were required in traversing the ninety-five miles to Marshall’s National Park House, a two-story, log-hewed structure located in the Lower Geyser Basin, near the junction of Firehole and Nez Percé Creek. These men also built mail stations at Riverside, four miles east of the West Entrance, and at Norris Geyser Basin.

Frank Jay Haynes, a youthful photographer from St. Paul, started a stage and photo business in 1881. His efforts have produced eminent success, and the end is not yet. The photography side of the business descended from father, Frank Jay, to son, Jack Ellis. The Haynes Studio still enjoys a flourishing trade, and its beautiful products are known all over the world.

The Northern Pacific Railroad extended its terminal to Cinnabar in 1883, where it remained until 1902, when Gardiner was reached. The next year an impressive ceremony was held at the North Gate when the Triumphal Arch was dedicated by President Theodore Roosevelt.

In 1883 the Yellowstone Park Improvement Company organized regular tourist travel. The usual routine consisted of alternating sojourns, whether in Concord stagecoaches, surreys, formation or spring wagons, and canvas “hotels.” A trip around the Park cost twenty-five dollars, or a saddle horse could be secured for two-fifty per day. The following year (1884) George W. Wakefield put a line of coaches into operation from Cinnabar through the Park. W. Hoffman was also engaged in the stage business. These firms were rivals among themselves, and with other less formidable competitors, for the Northern Pacific’s business. However, in 1886, the railroad effected a gentlemen’s agreement with the new and energetic Yellowstone Park Association. Unless the purchaser of a railroad ticket objected he found a coupon attached to his ticket that delivered him into the care of the Yellowstone Park Stage Line and its associated hotels. Coupon holders paid nine dollars a day while in the Park. Five dollars were assigned to staging and four dollars to hotel and meals. Upon alighting from the train, each person was accosted from several quarters, much as by hackmen in cities, “Are you a coupon, sir?” “No.” “Would you like my team then?”[233] Thus, each would press the bewildered tourist for his business. In 1892 the Huntley, Child, and Bach interests organized the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company. They soon dominated the North Entrance business, and other operators were bought out in 1903. Four years later this firm was prepared to receive one hundred and fifty passengers daily at the North Gate. An inventory of its rolling stock included four six-horse Concord coaches, of thirty-three seats capacity; ninety four-horse Concords, of eleven and seven seats; and one hundred two Glens Falls two-horse surreys, of five and three seat models. It was undoubtedly one of the best-equipped organizations of the kind in history.[234]

Passengers entering the Park by way of the West Entrance came north from Ogden, Utah, on the Utah Northern (later the Union Pacific) to Spencer, Idaho, or Monida on the Montana-Idaho border. There they were met by F. J. Haynes’ Monida and Yellowstone Stage Line or the Bassett Brothers Company. During the season of 1915 the Haynes firm transported 20,151 tourists through the Park.

In 1903, when the East Gate road was opened, the Holm Transportation Company secured a permit to operate a stage line. The arrival of the Burlington Route to Cody, Wyoming, in 1912, gave great impetus to that business. The West Entrance had benefited by a railroad to its gate since 1907, when the Union Pacific extended the line to West Yellowstone. A branch line was also built to Victor, Idaho, which made Jackson Hole and the South Entrance much more accessible. A table of operators and charges, as of 1914, would represent the stage business in the heyday of its power.[235]

The evolution of permanent camps and hotels was complementary to the development of travel. The first permanent house built was in Clematis Gulch, on the north side of Mammoth Terraces. It was erected in 1871 by James C. McCartney. This “hotel” and C. J. Baronett’s bridge and cabin at the forks of the Yellowstone River were the only improvements made before the Dedicatory Act was passed. These gentlemen managed to collect the sum of $9000 for their foresight and property, although they had to wait until March 1, 1899 to get it.

P. W. Norris’ Annual Report of 1880 lists the following facilities then in operation: Mammoth, McCartney’s house and Matthew McGuirck’s baths; Norris, a rude cabin and barn; Riverside, a cabin and barn; Firehole River, near the forks, “a fine shingle roofed mail station and hotel.” The latter three stations were built by Marshall and Goff. In the Upper Geyser Basin a small cabin was built by Superintendent Norris in 1879; at the Lake a cabin and boat were operated by Captain E. S. Topping.

Ernest Thompson Seton
“Uncle” John F. Yancey.

Two years later John Yancey secured a mail contract and established a station in Pleasant Valley at the base of Crescent Hill. Here he was familiarly known as “Uncle John.” He was an old Kentucky frontiersman stranded in the Park by the flood tide of civilization. He chafed constantly at the uneventful days of the eighties and told his guests thrilling tales of the forties. A pen portrait has been preserved of him:

Yancey is an odd character, whose looks encourage a belief in reincarnation, so forcibly does he remind us of the prehistoric. His hotel, too, belongs to the primeval; its walls are of logs; its partitions and ceilings of cheese cloth.... Uncle John’s housekeeper, who performs the duties of cook and chambermaid, confidentially informed one of our party that it was hard to find time to wash so many bedclothes every day.[236]

The meals were most generous, which was a custom closely observed in those days. This type of accommodation was very repulsive to some people. Judge Lambert Tree, an ex-United States Minister to Belgium, characterized the management in general as outrageous. A report was current that three married couples and two young women were thrust into a small room to pass the night. The next camp was twenty miles away, and the only transportation belonged to the company. In addition, this same party was advised to walk up Mary Mountain because it was such a hard pull for the horses. Someone was evidently justified in making the statement, “As it is today [1884.], I do not think it too strong to say that at certain points on the route travellers are treated more like cattle than civilized people.”[237]

These reports reached the Secretary of the Interior, and a number of new leases were promptly granted for the erection of hotels and the necessary outbuildings.[238] About this time Superintendent Wear was accused of persuading Graham and Klamer, owners of the Firehole Hotel, to sell out. In any case, a new hotel was built in the Lower Geyser Basin in 1884 by C. T. Hobart. He and Robert E. Carpenter also erected a frame building the next year on the present site of Old Faithful Inn. At the same time the Cottage Hotel was erected in Mammoth by Walter L. Henderson.[239] The Yellowstone Park Association also built hotels in Mammoth and Norris in 1885, Lake in 1887, Canyon in 1890, and the following year they completed the peerless Fountain Hotel. It was located on a hill in a strategic position in the Lower Geyser Basin. From its lofty veranda the Fountain Geyser could be observed playing. The Fountain House was an imposing structure. It was modern in every way, having electricity and steam heat. Two hundred guests could be entertained, and when they went to dinner a head waiter in evening dress greeted them. In 1887 the Norris Hotel burned down, and in 1894 the one at Old Faithful did likewise.[240]

During the season of 1894 the pressure of criticism was brought to bear upon the entire Yellowstone transportation and accommodation setup. The country was in the throes of a depression, and the rates seemed exorbitant. It appears that the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company had been very reluctant in allowing stopover privileges. It collected just as much by holding strictly to schedule; whereas, the hotels made more on holdovers. This diversity of interest suggested the idea that it might be expedient to have the management of both industries in the same hands.

It was William W. Wylie, of Bozeman, who conceived a plan which met the demand. Since 1883 he had operated a ten-day tour, using portable tents. He would organize a stage line and cater to the masses by establishing a string of permanent camps, with eating halls and sleeping quarters. By using canvas, his investment would be small, and he could cut the cost of a trip through the Park in half. Therefore, in 1896, he secured a franchise, and the “Wylie Way” went into operation.

Of course, the more conservative competitors resented this invasion from “the other side of the tracks.” Captain George S. Anderson was also opposed to a string of “shanty towns.” The matter was given a public hearing by Forest and Stream in its issue of February 5, 1898, entitled “Nuisances in Yellowstone Park.” Mr. Wylie, known in Yellowstone as “the Professor,” wrote a vigorous rebuttal for the following issue. Other publications entered into the controversy, as did many of Wylie’s most satisfied customers. The question involved was whether the American people, in the enjoyment of their own pleasure ground, should be limited to one set of accommodations, which only the wealthy could afford.[241] The verdict of the public, from which there is no appeal, was definitely with “the Professor.” The business flourished and won an acceptable position in the more complete system that evolved.

In the meantime an actual nuisance was committed by several hotel operators. They attempted to assemble and maintain wild life menageries. The government necessarily allowed stables and pastures for horses and cows, but that was all. Nevertheless, several managers also tried to raise pigs, although extreme precautions were essential to save them from bears. Colonel E. C. Waters had a “veritable stockade-pen of heavy logs bolted all around.”[242] Perhaps the most flagrant offender in this respect was the Yellowstone Boat Company. As an inducement to take a boat ride, this firm confined buffalo, elk, and bighorn in corrals on Dot Island. This untoward act, together with the prices charged for boat rides, brought many complaints, and upon official request the animals were promptly released.[243]

Mosquitoes were an ever-present nuisance, sometimes assuming the proportion of a plague. Accustomed to the pursuit of fleet four-footed prey, they assailed slow-moving Homo sapiens with particular gusto. Gleeful appreciation seemed discernible in their song. By day and night, unless the wind was blowing, the tourists were kept busy swatting those vexatious, glory-minded, musical-winged, bold denizens of the forest.

Perhaps the most persistent annoyance, next to mosquitoes, was the prevalence of dust. One traveler laconically observed that he rode “from geyser to canyon, to waterfall, in a chaos of dust, until he returned on the fifth day a wiser and dustier man.”[244] But an elderly man, probably afflicted with asthma, entered the Fountain Hotel, singled out the manager, and shaking his finger in his face, dramatically shouted, “A man who would permit women and children to enter the Park, with the roads in their present condition, is an old scoundrel!”[245] How did cyclists ever manage to get around? Incredible though it appears they went through right along after 1882. To be sure, their voices were added to the chorus calling for better roads. These protests resulted in the adoption of a sprinkling system that will be described subsequently.

The most revolutionary proposal for a change in travel facilities, coming in 1894, was a demand for railroads. There were propositions wholly independent of the Montana segregation case. Many people sincerely favored the entrance of trains on their own merits. The issue was discussed in the House of Representatives on December 17, by the Hon. Henry H. Coffeen of Wyoming. Speaking of the operators, he said:

... they are holding on to a theory of sacred maintenance of the stage coach and broncho riding method of reaching this great Wonderland at a time when the superior advantages of railroad travel ought to be granted to the people.... These journeys going round the Park, so to say, and coming in at the back door by tedious night and day stage rides are so expensive, the time and inconveniences so great and the season so short (three months) that the great bulk of our population must forever stay out and remain in ignorance of the scenes of the Park. Not one hundredth part of one per cent of our people per year could possibly visit the Park by these methods.[246]

While this argument did not produce a change of policy it did give an impetus to road building. A brief review of that important development would be appropriate.

Reference has already been made to the rude trails hacked out by government expeditions and early tourists and also to the trace improvised by C. J. Baronett and his associates, which led from Mammoth to his bridge at the forks of the Yellowstone and along the east branch to the mines at Cooke, Montana. In 1877 General Howard’s captain, W. F. Spurgin, made a faint apology for a road in bringing his wagons from Mary Mountain to Tower Falls. It was the next year when the first wagons managed a round trip from Mammoth, and also the West Entrance, to the Upper Geyser Basin. In building a road across the base of Obsidian Cliff, Colonel Norris employed a unique tactic in road making. Great bonfires were burned over the black glass, which made it expand; then cold water was dashed upon it, shattering the material so that it could be chopped out.

Golden Gate drive

In the early eighties the matter of road making was taken over by the army engineers. Until 1895 actual control was in the hands of non-resident officers, which proved unsatisfactory. After that the Acting Superintendent exercised supervision. Captain Anderson had a soldier’s and a surveyor’s eye for feasible routes. He favored the construction of twenty miles of good dirt road with fair grades to one mile of macadam and the resulting delay in opening the Park to the public.[247] The principal supervisors were Captain D. C. Kingman and Major Hiram M. Chittenden. Through their combined efforts the Grand Loop was planned and patiently constructed. In 1892 the road from Old Faithful to West Thumb was started. It took five years to get through to Jackson Lake. At the same time work progressed on the long section from Thumb to Fishing Bridge and thence to the East Entrance. That project was finished and accessible from Cody in 1903. Two years later the difficult Dunraven Pass and the scenic Chittenden Road to the summit of Mt. Washburn were ready. These were the last links in the Grand Loop. Of course, there have been continuous changes and refinements. In general the trend has been away from the plateaus to the more scenic river routes. Stretches through the Golden Gate, under Overhanging Cliff, and through the Gibbon and Firehole canyons are both interesting and costly.

In 1902 an experiment was made with the view of solving the dusty road problem. Several wide-tired sprinklers were tried out. The following year the number was increased, and more than thirty filling tanks were installed along the way. Most of them were filled by gravity and rams. In this way over a hundred miles of highway was moistened daily. Still, there were times when the dust was too thick for any effective treatment that man could devise.[248] Of course, nature had an adequate remedy, which it occasionally employed. Superintendent Albright related an instance:

Once I had a large congressional party in Yellowstone. It was in charge of the late James W. Good. Yellowstone’s roads were terribly dusty and the water sprinkling was of little value. We wanted Congress to adopt an oiling program but every night while the Committee was in the Park it rained and the roads were perfect. Nevertheless every day I told of the dust menace and urged the improvement, but the congressmen only laughed and some member would say “Albright’s going to tell his old dusty road story again.”[249]

Continuing the narrative, Superintendent Albright told this story:

“Another year, I met a sub-committee of the House Appropriations Committee at the Grand Canyon National Park. Congressman, now United States Senator, Carl Hayden, was with the party when they reached the park. Here again we had a problem of terrible roads. The committee had not had much sleep the night before arrival due to changing trains, and when I took them over the worst road in the park they went to sleep on me. I bounced them into every rut and hole I could find, but even then I had to shake them to wake them up. For a long time they contended that the road was a boulevard, but finally authorized the improvement desired. On the same trip, Congressman Cramton of Michigan, for years the stalwart champion of national parks, saw a camper stop his car near the Grand Canyon Park office. He went over to him seeking information about the conduct of the park. The tourist gave him a vigorous denunciation of the roads in the park, and Mr. Cramton always claimed that I planted the camper there to trap him.”

The suggestion frequently came to the Superintendent that he should sprinkle the roads with water from Alum Creek. That would shorten the distance and simplify the task!

In 1917 the National Park Service assumed control over all road construction and maintenance. Since then a comprehensive policy of scientific road making has been followed; grades have been modified, while at the same time great cuts and fills have been avoided so far as possible; turns have been eased and widened; and in recent years all the roads have been paved with oil mix. An appropriation of $3,369,450 in 1933, under the National Recovery Act, became the basis of the marvelous improvements made in recent years. In 1937 a remarkably scenic highway was completed from Red Lodge, Montana, to the Northeast Gate. After 1928, Cecil A. Lord directed the engineering activities of the Park until his death in 1943, whereupon Park Engineer Philip H. Wohlbrandt assumed that important responsibility.

The year 1915 was indeed a banner one in Yellowstone transportation history. It was the first year automobiles were admitted, and consequently heralded the end of the stagecoach. Actually, staging lingered through another season, but the race was over as the poet said:

Here’s to you, old stage driver,

We’ll hear your shout no more,

Your stage with rust is eaten,

Beside the old Inn’s door;

The auto-bus and steam car

Have cut your time in two;

Throw up your hands, old “stage hoss,”

They’ve got the drop on you![250]

Few people expressed any regret, because of the hardships incident to travel by stagecoach. Still, it is the opinion of many that advantages exceeded inconvenience. The West, as now seen from the window of a train or motor car, is not the country introduced by stagecoach. With all the additional comfort, there is a loss of an indefinable something, subtle, yet well understood by those who have driven at a six-mile-an-hour pace through the almost unbroken solitude of another era. In contrast, regularly scheduled airplane flights over the Park have been available from time to time since 1937. There are no airports in the Park, but they are to be found nearby at West Yellowstone and Gardiner, Montana.

It should also be remembered that during the previous forty years innumerable private parties made leisurely visits and camped where they pleased. The Park must have been an idyllic place in those “horse and buggy” days, a hunting and fishing Elysium, especially until 1894. Since then fishermen may take a generous catch of trout without any license except a bona fide presence in the Park.

Although admitted under the most onerous terms the automobile revolutionized the travel there as elsewhere. Always well-filled with regulations, official bulletins now fairly bristled with instructions to motorists. Fees were $7.50 for a single trip or $10.00 for the season; all cars were required to enter the gates between 6:45 and 7:15 A.M. A printed schedule specified the time of arrival at, and departure from, the control stations.[251] Fines were imposed for arrival at any point before the approved lapse of time at the rate of $0.50 per minute for each of the first five minutes, $1.00 per minute for each of the next twenty minutes, $25.00 fine or ejection from the Park, or both, at the discretion of the Acting Superintendent, for being more than twenty-five minutes early. The following regulations and restrictions were strictly enforced: Speed, twelve miles per hour ascending steep grades; ten miles per hour descending steep grades; eight miles per hour approaching sharp curves and passing other vehicles. The maximum speed limit in 1922 was twenty-five miles per hour. Teams had the right of way and also the inside of the roadway in passing. Motorists were required to sound horns at all curves where the road was not in view at least two hundred yards ahead. Surely the motorists were in a defensive position, but they came anyway. A total of 3,513 auto passengers toured the Park in the abbreviated season after August 1, 1915. The grand total for the year was 51,895 in all conveyances.

The advent of motor vehicles speeded up every phase of Park administration. However, World War I provided a respite for making adjustments. In fact, a thorough reorganization of the entire concession system was effected in 1917. The main feature involved was the consolidation of transportation under the management of the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company. The purpose of this franchise was to eliminate the pressure of rivals upon the passengers, facilitate supervision, and promote economy.[252] The Yellowstone Park Company proceeded to make a large capital investment by motorizing all transportation. Thereupon, the familiar yellow bus superseded the ancient stagecoach. It is an interesting thing to observe a caravan of twenty buses winding its way along a river drive or parked before a museum while a ranger-naturalist gives the passengers a quick orientation in the area.

It would be fair to inquire if the bus driver (gear jammer) showed any improvement over the stagecoach driver in the matter of instructing the public. Not if the 1921 edition of Truthful Lies correctly represents the situation, because that little booklet was a congeries of unadulterated nonsense reduced to a system.[253] However, a gradual improvement has been made, and in recent years all of the new drivers have gone around the “Loop” with a naturalist. From him they received helpful suggestions relative to natural interpretation. A few days after one of these induction tours the following conversation was reported to have taken place when passing a beaver dam: “Now, there is a beaver dam, but where are the dam beavers?” The driver straightened up and replied, “I’ll be damned if I know.”

At this point it should be remembered that, although the great concourse visit Yellowstone in cars, many tourists come in buses, motorcycles, and bicycles. It should also be noted that travel by horseback has always persisted. Until the advent of the automobile this method was in general use. Indeed, firms were organized to provide grand tours of several weeks’ duration. The Howard Eaton Trail and various adjuncts are still used by horseback parties each summer. In fact, several trail-riding associations sponsor these trips under competent leadership. In this manner an excellent Park tradition is being sustained for the benefit and enjoyment of a chosen few possessed of the necessary time and hardihood.

In 1936 the long-expected union of transportation and accommodations took place. The Yellowstone Park Transportation Company acquired all of the housing facilities and deleted the word Transportation from its title.[254] In analyzing the business of previous years, President William M. Nichols and his associates noticed a definite trend away from commercial transportation and first class American plan hotel accommodations. Therefore, they rapidly expanded the lower-priced cabins, together with cafeterias and coffee shops. They are now pursuing a carefully worked out program of improvement. Practical pre-fabricated cabins are to be established in well-arranged units in every station.[255] In 1956 the company had available some 3,150 rooms or units of lodging, with an aggregate capacity for housing 8,500 people. These accommodations consist of hotels, lodges, and housekeeping cabins. The services of twenty-seven hundred employees were required to operate these facilities. The annual Park population census taken on August 9, 12, and 14, 1955, disclosed an average population of 14,912 for the three days. Of this number 11,183 were visitors while 3,729 were employees. The grand total for the 1955 season was 1,368,515 visitors.

Tourists require many things besides food and shelter. Yellowstone’s policy has favored making these wants attainable. In this field regulations have also modified certain practices common to general business conditions. Franchises have been kept at a minimum, and competition does not exist within a particular camp. However, Park merchants are required to keep their prices in line with the index of the market area.

Motion pictures and other forms of indoor recreation are conspicuously absent, although the lodges sponsor two hours of entertainment and dancing for their guests and the public at large. These also function to keep the employees contented.

A general statement having been made, a brief sketch of Yellowstone’s business enterprises would be in order. Frank Jay Haynes, the pioneer photographer, built his first picture shop at Mammoth in 1884. Since that time a Haynes Studio has been a familiar institution in Yellowstone camps. Another Mammoth Hot Springs store was opened in 1889 by Ole Anderson. For a time he was allowed to sell bottles of highly colored Park sand and also specimens coated with calcium carbonate. This store was purchased by Anna K. Pryor and Elizabeth Trischman in 1908. They soon reorganized it into the Park Curio and Coffee Shop. Later they acquired the Mammoth general store and a grocery store near Canyon Junction. The latter had been established by a released Park soldier, George Whittaker.

The first store in the Upper Geyser Basin was built by Henry E. Klamer in 1897. A ten-year franchise for a geyser water swimming pool was granted Henry J. Brothers in 1914. The following year Charles A. Hamilton acquired control of these interests and laid the foundation for a thriving business there. Hamilton also has general stores at Thumb, Lake, and Fishing Bridge, and in 1953 acquired the Pryor interests in the Park.

The Yellowstone Park Service Stations are owned jointly by Hamilton Stores, Inc. and the Yellowstone Park Company. Gasoline, oil, and supplies are available at the lone multi-pump service station assigned to each camp.[256] The public garage business is in the hands of the Yellowstone Park Company. Thus, it is obvious that all of the Park’s mercantile business is the concern of three operators, Haynes, Hamilton, and the Yellowstone Park Company. Each operates under the terms of a government franchise and is subject to National Park Service regulation and supervision at all times.

The essential public utilities are provided by the National Park Service. They consist of public camp grounds with cement cooking units, toilet facilities, telephones, water, lights, and sewage disposal. These substantial projects have been developed through the years with a capital expenditure that runs in excess of a million dollars.[257]

In 1912 a general hospital was built in Mammoth. It is closely affiliated with a similar institution in Livingston, Montana. Medical doctors and trained nurses are on duty at the principal stations throughout the Park. This arrangement assures the public of medical attention in case of accidents or illness.

In 1913 the government built a Community Chapel at Mammoth. During the summer months services are usually conducted there and at the lodges or amphitheaters by the Catholic, Protestant, and Latter-day Saint (Mormon) faiths.

The postal service in Yellowstone has had a colorful evolution. The mail has always come through, either by scout, stage driver, bus, or “star route” mail car. In 1937 a fine post office was erected in Mammoth. It does business there the year around; while postal stations at Old Faithful, West Thumb, Lake, Fishing Bridge, Canyon, and Tower Falls are open only during the summer season.

Thus does a cross-section of America meet by canyon, geyser, lake, and waterfall. They also foregather around counters, tables, lobbies, and evening camp fires. It would be difficult to find a more representative assembly of American society. Many people consider this interesting human equation one of the most enjoyable experiences in the Park.

Chapter XIII
“THE YELLOWSTONE IDEA”

It has already been disclosed that Yellowstone Park has served the nation as an experimental unit in certain fields of conservation. While this is true, it would not be correct to regard the Park as the single place of origin for such a complex and salutary movement. Today the conservation of natural resources is one of America’s most popular and cherished causes, but it was not always so. A brief review of the conservation issue will provide a background for a correct appraisal of the position of the National Park System in relation to the nation’s over-all conservation program.

When the first colonies were established along the Atlantic seaboard America was a land of trees. This profusion of flora constituted an obstacle counted more serious than hostile Indians.[258] The natives had already fully cleared limited areas from the ravages of ancient fires, but the great forest stood almost limitless, and it was dense. Ambitious farmers yearned for the sight of bare ground; all trees irritated their eyes and caused them to reach for their axes. They wanted soil as rich as a barnyard, level as a floor, stone free, cleared clean of trees, without cost.[259] Except for the absence of trees, these amazing requirements were largely possible of fulfillment because never before had “heaven and earth agreed better to frame a place for man’s habitation.”[260] Here, indeed, was another Eden once it was redeemed from the leafy wilderness.

Colonials rallied to the challenge of a conquest over nature. They “drove” whole groves by partially felling each in a series and then touching off a chain reaction with the downfall of a ponderous giant. Thus did settlers cleave their way into the forests, rejecting in nature all that was not of immediate practical value. A little poem published in 1692 depicts their philosophy:

In such a wilderness ...

When we began to clear the land ...

Then with ax, with Might and Strength,

The trees so thick and strong ...

[These] we with Fire, most furiously

To ashes did confound.[261]

Next to the destruction of trees in clearing operations came the use of wood for fuel. A river steamboat or railroad locomotive required from twenty to thirty cords per day. “Woodhawks” literally denuded whole forests to supply these needs. Houses were largely built of wood, and it was liberally used in all domestic operations. In winter the family kept warm, not by securing “sich uppish notions” as blankets, but by throwing more wood on the fire, “nobody needn’t suffer with a great fire to sleep by.”[262] Rails were used in building fences at the rate of twenty-six thousand per section. The increase of population and acceleration of industrial activity in the early nineteenth century took a heavy toll from the forests. Fires were started by sparks from steam engines and by careless hunters, with the result that the precious blotter of humus, millenniums in building, was often destroyed in a flash. For two centuries America had advanced westward in a wood age, and trees were always in the way.

However, there were wise men who had always deplored tree waste. William Penn insisted that one acre of forest remain for each five cleared. Benjamin Franklin invented a stove to save fuel. George Washington and Peter Kalm warned of dangers ahead from floods and erosion through wanton clearing of land.[263] In 1813, Thomas Jefferson sagely wrote:

The spontaneous energies of the earth are a gift of nature, but they require the labor of man to direct their operation. And the question is so to husband this labor as to turn the greatest quantity of this useful action of the earth to his benefit.[264]

It will be noted that the foregoing suggestions were made by practical men upon sound considerations. However, there came an occasional complaint upon the philosophic and aesthetic level. Jonathan Edwards, André Michaux, George Catlin, and William Cullen Bryant were among those who visualized nature as a dynamic organization of living creatures worthy of existence in their own right and for the joy they gave. Their appreciation is illustrated by this verse:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of his hand,

And Eternity in an hour.

To be sure, little resulted from this approach; the time was not ripe. But these slender stirrings of thought and twitchings of conscience in high places were bound to be fruitful in results later on.

By the middle of the nineteenth century the springs and streams which had previously provided a murmuring labyrinth of dependable forest hospitality and protection had become irregular, undependable, and sometimes downright vicious. The lifeblood of the land, which, under nature’s balance, had throbbed daily and monthly almost as evenly as the sea, was now given to torrential rages in early June which were reduced to feeble trickles in July. Restless farmers found their plantings delayed until after the spring floods abated, and although the willing seed germinated quickly the tender plants were desiccated by midsummer heat. These conditions made it increasingly apparent that Americans would soon be compelled to approach nature as a friend rather than as an adversary. Any other course was suicidal.

By 1850 a new and more persuasive corps of conservationists was emerging. They affirmed that a nation desiring nature’s rewards must first learn her laws and then obey them implicitly.[265] They defined conservation as the protection and development of the full usefulness of natural resources, including forests, waters, minerals, scenery, and the land itself. Among these far-seeing men were Henry Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and John Muir. Through a persuasive campaign of lecturing and writing they established the plain fact that Americans, as a people, had never learned to love the land and regard it as an enduring resource. Rather had they viewed it as a field for exploitation and a source of immediate financial return.

Although the effect of these declarations was quite negligible, still Congress did appoint several timber agents in 1850. This was the first glimmering of a systematic approach to the inspection and policing of federal timber resources. But what have these humble beginnings in conservation to do with the Yellowstone National Park idea? Only this, a child cannot take a second step until it takes the first. Americans have never been particularly inclined toward sentimentality. A national pleasuring ground, such as Yellowstone Park, designed to serve “as a great breathing place for the national lung, as a place to which every American citizen can resort,” could not have come into being without considerable intellectual preparation.[266]

Congress could hardly be expected to enact protective legislation to stem this traditional exploitation until the idea of conservation became reasonably articulate and popular. Remember, that even at mid-century the thinkers were still groping for a program. Perhaps the first American possessed of both the appreciation and imagination to forecast what later evolved into the National Park program was George Catlin. When traveling up the Missouri River in 1832 he was so impressed as to write, “The realms might in future be seen preserved in their pristine beauty and wildness, in a magnificent park ... containing man and beast, in all the wild and freshness of their nature’s beauty.”[267]

In 1844 Ralph Waldo Emerson generalized upon the public need for recreational areas. “The interminable forests,” said he, “should become graceful parks for use and delight.” Henry Thoreau was even more penetrating when he wrote:

Why should not we ... have our national preserves ... in which the bear and panther, and some even of the hunter race, may still exist, and not be “civilized” off the face of the earth ... for inspiration and our true re-creation? Or should we, like villains, grub them all up for poaching on our own national domains?[268]

Perhaps these men reached these conclusions more by inspiration than logic, but in George P. Marsh, conservation had a sound advocate. He spoke and wrote with authority upon the principle of “conserving unique areas for their greatest values,” whether utility or scenery. In his book, Man and Nature, published in 1864, he argued persuasively for balanced economy and pointed to the fact of man’s ultimate dependence upon elemental things. These wise views concerning forest influences upon precipitation, springs, sand storms, floods, and man’s own property made a deep impression upon many people.[269] Since then the good work has been continued by other scientists. In 1948, Our Plundered Planet, written by Fairfield Osborn, reviewed the nation’s unpalatable record of negligence and waste. He characterized the Americans as energetic, destructive, violent, and unthinking. Considering the element of time, the United States has received more reckless treatment than any other segment of the world. As a result, vast resources are gone beyond hope of redemption, but others are renewable through the application of scientific principles.

The tide of the world’s population is rising; the reservoir of the earth’s resources is falling. Since World War II, America seems to be in the middle position of strain. In these circumstances, will it be possible to maintain and enlarge the standard of living as in the past eras? Fairfield Osborn insists that our attitude toward conservation holds the key to the problem. Success in this endeavor will require supreme cooperation among government, industry, labor, scientific research, and the public at large. Should this grand partnership eventuate, Mr. Osborn has promised that “no end is visible or even conceivable to this kingdom of adventure.”

Interest in these great truths is well established now and will not be permitted to decline, because America has many scientists at work in the field of soil conservation. This work is furthered by the specialists of the U. S. Soil Conservation Service. The soil experts constantly remind the farmers, and others, that America possessed an average top “black” soil depth of nine inches when settlement was first started. They now estimate the average to be between six and seven inches. Soil conservationists hasten to point out that rocks disintegrate slowly, and that ages, not centuries, are required for the growth and decay of plants needed in the production of rich humus soil. Soil scientists do not simply call attention to dangers. They have developed dependable and salutary cultivating practices such as contour plowing of tillable soil and terracing of range land. They advise plowing stubble and cover crops under to add fertility and cohesion to the soil.

Experimentation has been fruitful from the standpoint of discovering grass and legume adaptability to the different soil conditions. One phase of national security is contingent upon the effectiveness with which these practices are applied by all who work with farm, range, and forest resources. The record will prove that nearly 300,000,000 acres of land have been practically destroyed by erosion in the United States. Twice that acreage is rapidly deteriorating under the same forces.

Remember, that it was only a century ago when Americans received their first rudimentary lessons in exercising a little common sense in the exploitation of resources, whether for crops, lumber, mineral, livestock, or recreational opportunities.

Referring again to the status of conservation and natural philosophy in the middle nineteenth century, it should be noted that several California citizens first beheld the beauty of Yosemite in 1851. Inspired and overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of these high Sierra marvels, they returned to commune again and again. Artists, photographers, and authors joined the growing procession, and most of them concurred in the opinion that it was “the greatest marvel on the continent.” Increasing appreciation and popularity developed into a movement for segregation under state ownership and operation. In 1864 an application was made for a federal land grant with that end in view. A strong committee, headed by Israel Ward Raymond, drafted the resolution and passed it along to U.S. Senator John Conness. He presented a bill which was passed and signed by President Lincoln on June 29, 1864. The grant was given “upon the express conditions that the premises shall be held for public use, resort and recreation shall be held inalienable for all time.”[270]

The federal government was gradually warming toward the reservation idea in areas of little economic resistance from private interests. Even so, there was no thought of a national park program, but a tract of federal land had actually been made available to the general public for a strictly non-utilitarian purpose. The general direction was visible, but the course was not clearly charted.

Reflective visitors to Yosemite, such as Samuel Bowles, pondered a wider application of the land grant and reservation principle. It was in 1865, after Bowles viewed the glories of Yosemite, that he made this statement:

The wise cession and dedication [of Yosemite] by Congress and proposed improvement by California ... furnishes an admirable example for other objects of natural curiosity and popular interest all over the Union. New York should preserve for popular use both Niagara Falls and its neighborhood, and a generous section of the famous Adirondacks, and Maine, one of her lakes and its surrounding woods.[271]

Surely Bowles’ statement disclosed a profound appreciation of a growing need. He had found, as Dr. Hans Huth aptly says, “a formula not just for the protection of this or that area of interest to some group or other, but for a systematic approach to an overall system of protection of specific features of nature throughout the nation.”[272] However, one tremendously important element was still missing from the formula. It was simply a repetition of George Catlin’s proposal of 1832, in clearer terms to be sure, but still the all-important factor of bringing the program under the aegis of the federal government was lacking. This element was supplied by the Washburn-Langford-Doane party in their memorable campfire discussion at the junction of the Firehole and Gibbon rivers on September 19, 1870, when it was specifically proposed that the federal government should be induced to establish a National Park. Within less than two years the native virtue of the idea, backed by the rugged energy of its originators and others, resulted in the passage of the Yellowstone Park Act. Yellowstone, therefore, was the first federal venture in the field of protection. Hence, technically speaking, it may stand as the birthplace of the National Park Idea.[273] True, the issue of protection and conservation had a long history, but one doesn’t actually name a baby until it is born. In this light, the Yellowstone experience is the matrix in which the National Park Idea achieved existence as a new American institution.

Such is the partial record of many influences that culminated in the “Dedicatory Act” of March 1, 1872. In this chain of progress people associated with Yellowstone played a small but significant role. They helped translate a growing conservation movement into a fruitful channel. A fortuitous combination of time and place reduced opposition to a minimum. The next question would logically be: what contribution, if any, has Yellowstone National Park made toward the development of the present conservation program?

The creation of Yosemite and Yellowstone parks set a precedent for democratic control of natural curiosities, including scenic forests, but that was all. No action was then contemplated by Congress in respect to conserving commercial timber stands. However, Congress was plagued by petitions, and a few forward-looking legislators were endeavoring to formulate a basis for a forest policy. The American Association for the Advancement of Science advocated a program of tree planting, taxes to discourage hasty timber cutting, a forestry course for farmers, and the establishment of forest reserves. In 1873, under the guiding hand of Franklin B. Hough, the association memorialized Congress and the state legislatures regarding the cultivation of timber and the preservation of forests.[274]

That same year Congress appropriated two thousand dollars for a study of American forest and timber production. Mr. Hough directed the work and issued a series of reports. Secretary of the Interior Carl Schurz was sufficiently impressed by this survey to create the Department of Forestry within his department.[275] In addition, he appointed a forestry agent and sent him to Europe to study forest methods.

Such Fabian tactics suggest that the conservationists were not strong enough to really come to grips with the problem. But the leaders were alert, and in 1891 they made a notable gain by a devious maneuver. A conference committee of the two houses was adjusting differences in a bill that revised the general land laws. Advocates of conservation through their leader, John W. Noble, Secretary of the Interior, dominated the committee. It was he who suggested the inclusion of a new section, although that was a violation of procedure, which provided that:

The president of the U. S. may, from time to time, set apart and reserve, in any state or territory having public land bearing forests, any part ... whether of commercial value or not, as public reservations, and the president shall, by public proclamation, declare the establishment of such reservations.[276]

In that way Congress stumbled onto a plan which worked because, by granting reserve creating power to the president, the timber lobby was circumvented. This measure provided a definite wedge against the compact, aggressive forces of exploitation. President Benjamin Harrison acted promptly by creating, in 1891, the Yellowstone Timber Reserve in Wyoming. He, thereby, created the first National Forest, and before his term expired he set aside a total of thirteen million acres, all in the Far West.

Another side of conservation was inaugurated in 1872 when J. Sterling Morton of Lincoln, Nebraska, introduced a resolution for a state-wide Arbor Day. By 1885 the idea had gained enough popular support to warrant the establishment of Arbor Day as a legal holiday, and since then more than half of the states have followed Nebraska’s example.

However, it was a Pennsylvanian who became the most effective conservationist of all; Gifford Pinchot was well educated, energetic, and interested in the cause. As manager of the Vanderbilt forest interests in North Carolina he evolved a policy of perpetual timber yield. The indefatigable Mr. Pinchot was prepared to make a contribution to the conservation movement on a national level, and Theodore Roosevelt’s accession to the presidency in 1901 gave him that opportunity. President Roosevelt, also, brought much field experience to the conservation problem. His interest was one of conviction as well as good sense, sentiment, and politics. He viewed the presidency as a stewardship for the nation’s resources. More than anyone before or since he dramatized this issue. As head of the forest bureau, Mr. Pinchot became the President’s strong right arm, and together they made America acquainted with her conservation needs. A survey of national resources disclosed the fact that of the original 800,000,000 acres of virgin forest, less than 200,000,000 remained. Furthermore, four-fifths of this acreage was in private hands. Mineral resources, also, had been exploited as if inexhaustible. By propaganda, lobbies, public meetings, and conferences, Roosevelt and Pinchot focused attention upon abuses and neglect. Their watchword was that America’s natural resources must be administered in the interest of “the greatest good to the greatest number—and that for the longest time.”[277]

The general response to the President’s Governors’ Conference at the White House in 1907, and to other conferences, was most gratifying. Conservation agencies sprang into action on all sides. Even the National Lumber Manufacturers’ Association established new standards and specifications for the wood-using industries. The dynamic leadership of Theodore Roosevelt and his associates enabled the people to comprehend the basic relationship of conservation and national welfare. Almost everyone united in the view that a new frontier had been formed and its conquest was to be made upon the principles and forces of conservation.

Congress had led the way toward legislative regulation, beginning with the Yosemite Act in 1864, followed by the Yellowstone “Dedicatory Act” of 1872. Since then one legislative pearl after another has been collected and strung upon the fabric of the National Forest and Park systems.

Today there are thirteen federal agencies charged with the administration of the federal conservation laws. Consolidation of these bureaus would undoubtedly enhance the effectiveness of the over-all service. Besides that, there are forty-eight state agencies and, in addition, one hundred and twenty-four organizations of either national, state, or local character specifically dedicated to conservation.[278] From the origin herein described, the National Forest Service has developed until there are now 180,000,000 acres within the confines of one hundred and fifty National Forests. The administration of these far-flung areas is co-ordinated by twelve regional offices and other adjunctive agencies, such as experiment stations and laboratories.

The guiding philosophy of National Forest management is known as “multiple use.” This term describes a broad program involving the inter-relationship of wild life protection, livestock grazing, logging, mining, irrigation watersheds, wood chopping, recreation, summer home areas, and hunting and fishing activities. Railroads and other roads are built in National Forests according to plan and under supervision. How much of this esteemable policy and program has been derived from the National Park experience? The two services have developed simultaneously; as the boundaries of parks and forests often impinge, so have their policies. Both services have many ends in common; each learns from the other.[279] The essential differentiation of service lies in the difference between “conserving an area for its greatest value” and “utilization of resources in multiple purpose.” It is a matter of degrees of conservation according to circumstances. For example, public hunting is prohibited in all 23,899,030 acres of the 181 areas under the supervision of the National Park Service. However, the service itself may adopt a policy of fauna diminution.

Having sketched the history of forest and land conservation, it would be appropriate to similarly narrate the movement to conserve wild life. Until a half century ago the American attitude toward wild life was almost wholly one of indifference. The frontiersman killed a deer per meal and gave little thought for the morrow. Only the Indians were preservers of game, as the saying, “No Indians not much game; heap Sioux, plenty of buffalo, elk and deer,” so aptly attests.[280] It has already been explained how this difference in racial behavior eventuated in almost perpetual strife between white and red men. There were occasional exceptions, as in the case of Daniel Boone. In 1775 he proposed a measure for the protection of game in Kentucky because it was already necessary for him to travel a score of miles from home to find buffalo.

The pristine American wild life heritage was on a par with the endowment of forest and land. The toothsome white-tailed deer was omnipresent in the East and much of the Middle West. Other species of deer, elk, moose, bison, and antelope were in great abundance. Reports from Lewis and Clark, Zebulon Pike, J. J. Audubon, B. L. Bonneville and others prove that no pioneer ever pushed so far, or entered regions so difficult or remote, that he did not find a host of birds and beasts awaiting his pleasure and profit.[281] Man has always had a predatory disposition toward wild life, but this was not so serious in the ages of club, stone ax, and bow and arrow. American animal abundance was contemporaneous with these times.

Wild life conservation became an imperative issue only after the invention of flintlock, breechloaders, repeaters, automatics, and fixed ammunition. These weapons in the hands of commercial hunters, unscrupulous sportsmen, and “game hogs” threatened extinction of many species of life. Most devastating of all threats was the impact of the market hunter; no bird, mammal, or reptile species can long withstand such exploitation. Professional gunners who pursue creatures for money are invariably skillful, diligent, and persistent.[282] Often the sportsman is equally skillful and efficient in slaughter. The Earl of Dunraven left this description of a chase in the vicinity of Fort Laramie:

We killed elk, white-tail and black-tail deer, antelope, swans, immense geese, ducks and small game without count. This elk running is perfectly magnificent. We ride among the wild sand hills till we find a herd, and then gallop after them like maniacs, cutting them off, till we get in the midst of them, when we shoot all that we can. Our chief hunter is a very famous man out West, one Buffalo Bill. To see his face flush, and his eyes shoot out courage is a sight to see, and he cheers us on till he makes us as mad as himself.[283]

Concerning the high sport of the Earl’s party, Mary Kingsley made the witty observation that “In the course of these wanderings they shot ... every kind of living thing ... on the Western Continent ... with the solitary exception of their fellowmen.”[284] America has handled its wild life in such a careless, greedy fashion that several species of animal and fowl became extinct, and many others were brought within the range of annihilation. The danger point varies with each species, but there is an area for each wherein the survivors are too few to cope with circumstances, and recovery is impossible. This fact became quite clear to certain conservationists around 1900.

Outstanding leadership was provided by Madison Grant, John F. Lacey, Henry Fairfield Osborn and Willard Dutcher.[285] These men so wrote and spoke as to arouse the public and sting the true sportsmen into action. People who did not shoot were impelled to call a halt on those who did, particularly upon the lawless element. The public was assured that much could be done to save a wonderful inheritance. In order to finance the conservation campaign aggregate bequests in excess of one-half million dollars were made by Albert Wilcox, Mrs. Russell Sage, Charles W. Ward, and Mary Dutcher. President Theodore Roosevelt nourished the movement in every way within his power. He gave the vanishing species the benefit of every doubt. Under his direction five national parks, three bison herds, fifty-three bird refuges, and four game preserves were established.

Warnings and appeals directed toward conservation went through all channels, legislative, educational, practical, and sentimental. The farmers were assured that the rejuvenated bison, deer, and elk herds would not be allowed to roam at will over their valuable land. Rather there were millions of acres of brushy, rocky, and semi-forest lands, wholly unsuited for agriculture, in which the conservation work could be done. Sportsmen were promised opportunities for shooting plentiful game in open seasons as soon as the proper balance of wild life had been restored. Their response to this program has become increasingly impressive. They have effected almost innumerable associations designed to achieve these ends. Much thought and effort have been given to the cause, and they have contributed liberally, besides paying license fees. Revenue from all sportsmen sources must approximate a billion dollars a year. Hence, it is correct to say that combined sportsmen organizations represent one of the most effective agencies of conservation.

By 1912 the movement had achieved general acceptance. The Department of Agriculture issued annual “progress reports.” Every state had either a State Game Commission or a State Game Warden. Montana had established two state preserves. Several states were successfully experimenting with the introduction of new species of game birds, such as Chinese ring-necked, golden, and silver pheasants. The federal government had created fifty-eight bird refuges and five great game preserves. It had taken steps to protect bison herds in four national ranges, besides protecting the fur seal and providing hay for starving Yellowstone Park elk and others in the Jackson Hole area.

The efforts of government agencies were effectively buttressed by a number of private organizations such as the New York Zoological Society, National Association of Audubon Societies, Campfire Club of America, Boone and Crockett Club, and the American Game Protective and Propagation Association. Since 1912 gratifying progress has been made, although there are still many problems remaining. Yellowstone’s Park Biologist, Walter H. Kittams, and many other specialists are applying the best modern techniques of range management and wildlife management to effect a solution to these problems consistent with National Park Service ideals.

It has already been noted that Yellowstone National Park has served as an area of experimentation in the field of wild life management. When the reservation was established in 1872 a proposal was made to outlaw hunting. The suggestion was not heeded by Congress, and as a result trappers and hunters plied their trades early and late, seven days a week, month after month.

A representative description of wild life exploitation in the Yellowstone Wonderland may be found in the Earl of Dunraven’s book, Hunting in the Yellowstone. This is an account of his trip through the Park in 1874. While camped at Mammoth Hot Springs he wrote: “Some of us went out hunting and brought in a good store of fat antelope ...”[286] If that entry strikes a note of discord because of present practice, observe the significance of the Earl’s record in describing the following Yellowstone camp:

In the afternoon we passed quite a patriarchal camp [near Sheepeater’s Cliff], composed of two men, with their Indian wives and several children; half a dozen powerful savage looking dogs and about fifty horses completed the party. They had been grazing their stock, hunting and trapping, leading a nomad, vagabond, and delicious life—a sort of mixed existence, half hunter, half herdsman, and had collected a great pile of deer hides and beaver skins. They were then on their way to settlements to dispose of their peltries, and to get stores and provisions; for they, too, were proceeding down the river or up the canon.[287]

Within the decade it became obvious to Park officials that the fauna would not long survive this savage onslaught from squaw men, professional gunners, fierce dogs, and expert scouts and guides vying for tourist patronage. Along with this realization came another discovery; soldiers in remote stations had formed enjoyable companionships with wilderness creatures. These lonely men were delighted by the universally charming wild life trait of responding with confidence and alacrity to friendly human advances. It became increasingly apparent to the officials that Yellowstone birds and mammals would quickly recognize overtures of friendship and protection. The idea was advanced that nearly every species in the Park might become as tame as range cattle if given an opportunity to move safely within rifle-shot for several years. Recommendations to that effect forwarded to the Secretary of the Interior by Superintendent Norris in 1879 were passed on to Congress, and they played an important part in the passage of legislation on March 3, 1883, under which the killing of game was first suppressed. In subsequent years the laws were strengthened and administration improved. This was the beginning of wild life conservation practice by the federal government. Since then the various species of native fauna have achieved a generally satisfactory balance. The Park’s policy of protection can definitely be credited with saving the grizzly bear from extinction, and the trumpeter swan is receiving his chance to survive. It may be too late in this case.

Today the alert tourist may reap the reward of that wise and fruitful policy in observing mountain sheep, antelope, mule deer, elk, moose, coyotes, marmot, and squirrels as they roam around in the Park. Indeed, the quiet but energetic visitor who ventures upon the forest trails may even see the rare sand-hill crane and trumpeter swan. Besides, he will frequently hear the passing whisper of the honker’s wing. Actually, he may “shoot” both birds and mammals with the camera and take home trophies of everlasting enjoyment.

The wildlife policy of the National Park Service has evolved gradually, and is based upon long experience in preserving areas of outstanding significance. It has been determined that animals shall not be encouraged to become dependent upon man, and their presentation to the public shall be wholly natural. Every species shall be left to carry on its struggle for existence unaided, unless it becomes endangered, and no management measure or interference with biotic relationships shall be undertaken prior to a properly conducted investigation. Numbers of animals must not be permitted to exceed the carrying capacity of the range available to them. Predator species will be given the same protection as all other animals, except in special instances where a prey species is in danger of extermination. These principles, and others, control the actions taken with respect to wildlife, and assure the continued existence of native wildlife in our National Parks.

Chapter XIV
GENERAL ADMINISTRATION

Nathaniel P. Langford was appointed Superintendent of Yellowstone National Park on May 10, 1872. No salary was allowed, but nothing daunted, on July 4 he arranged to join the Snake River detachment of Dr. F. V. Hayden’s second expedition. This party employed as guide one Richard Leigh, better known as “Beaver Dick.” This picturesque squaw man and his wife, Jenny, with her brood, not only acted as scout but also as friend and entertainer. “Beaver Dick” knew the Tetons and south Yellowstone country like a book, and he regaled the company with many tales of hair-raising experiences in the wilds. They were respectful in the presence of one of the last genuine frontiersmen of the West.

The new superintendent was characteristically indefatigable in his reconnaissance during this journey. Making personal side trips, he climbed the Grand Teton, called on Gilman Sawtelle at Henrys Lake, and joined Hayden in the Upper Geyser Basin by mid-August.[288] On this expedition the reports of much petrifaction along the East Fork of Yellowstone River (now called Lamar) were confirmed. Many trees were found that were filled with beautiful crystals of amethyst. Several species of trees that do not now grow in the Park were also found in a petrified state. Among these were magnolias, sycamores, aralias, oaks, and ferns in abundance. This, and subsequent investigations, disclosed an interesting story of climatic change. Obviously Tertiary flora was of a Southern type, and Yellowstone’s climate in that time was comparable to southern California’s today.[289]

Photo by IV H. Jackson
“Beaver Dick” (Richard Leigh) and family, 1871

Members of this same expedition also visited the Heart Lake and Norris Geyser-basins.[290] Hayden and Langford were more than pleased with the results. Wonderland’s charms were still a potent draught to the thirst of these great nature lovers. Their enthusiasm never flagged, although there were many discouragements. Several accidents must have induced considerable reflection, if not doubt, about the realization of their hopes. One horse went to its doom in quagmire; another broke its neck in a somersault. Horses sensed the inexperience and uncertainty of their riders in this environment, and there were several stampedes.[291] This time Langford viewed Yellowstone in the light of what the public would require, and the task ahead must have appeared insurmountable. Still, his good judgment told him that the Park would surely become a favorite resort for future tourists. Plans were conceived for trails, roads, and accommodations, and in the spring of 1873 he appointed David E. Folsom as assistant superintendent, also without pay.

Langford’s annual report of 1873 showed that five hundred people visited the Park that season. A request was made for an appropriation of $10,000 for improvements, but no funds were provided for any purpose. As time passed, the general situation became increasingly untenable. The frontiersman’s indifference to schedules and comforts caused much inconvenience and dissatisfaction to the travelers. A program of development and a system of concessions was imperative. Of course, these things would require time, planning, and money, but this fact was little recognized by newcomers. Langford was roundly criticized in the press for conditions over which he had no authority or means to control. However, during the winter he faithfully devoted his spare time to making plans, and his full time in summer was given to their execution. For five long years he gave the best that was in him, without funds or support, never losing his faith in the future of Yellowstone, and because of his enthusiasm his friends called him “National Park” Langford.[292]

In 1877 a new superintendent succeeded Langford. Philetus W. Norris, of Michigan, received the appointment, with pay, and the following year a $10,000 appropriation was made available “to protect, preserve, and improve Yellowstone Park.” Norris, although a rather quaint man, proved to be extremely zealous and energetic. On foot and horseback he eventually toured all of the Park and its immediate environs, considering a thorough personal exploration of Wonderland essential to a wise administration of his office. In 1878 he discovered Monument Geyser Basin, and later in the season an attempt was made to explore the Hoodoo area on the upper Lamar River drainage, but the Crow Indians challenged his right, and “Miller, Rowland, and myself, narrowly escaped.”[293] However, he persisted, and in due time the world learned about

Superintendent Philetus W. Norris

... that mysterious Hoodoo region, where all the devils now employed in the geysers, live and kill the wandering bear and elk, so that the sacred hunter finds in Death Gulch piled high carcasses of the dead whom no man has smitten.[294]

There is obvious exaggeration in Kipling’s description of wild life destruction by natural gases. However, evidence confirming the lethal power of Yellowstone’s natural carbon dioxide gas may be secured without going into the remote Hoodoo region. Birds die almost daily from inhaling the fumes that arise from springs on Orange Mound in the Mammoth Hot Springs. Park naturalists are in a quandary as to the procedure of warning birds concerning the danger.

Norris wrote voluminously and accomplished much, leaving his mark and name upon various sections of the Park. He caused trails, roads, bridges, and crude campgrounds to be made, in so far as the limited funds would allow. A policy of wild life protection was also adopted. In 1880 Harry Yount was given the assignment as gamekeeper. Yount was a typical leatherstocking frontiersman. He was rough, tough, and intelligent. In the role of game protector he spent the winter of 1880 in the Park. He thereby became one of the first white men of record to spend the entire year in Yellowstone.[295] Harry initiated many of the practices of resourcefulness and traditions of good will that characterize the ranger service, and he may be considered as its father.

The need of a game protection program was apparent from the outset. Indian, trapper, and miner visitations had taken a heavy toll of elk, deer, antelope, and buffalo. After 1872 tourist parties were largely made up of, or guided by, mountain men who undertook to provide game for the campers. Thus, a trip through Yellowstone was, in effect, a hunting and fishing expedition, actuated by the slogan “slay and eat.”

In 1876 William Ludlow, a government surveyor, was moved to write an effective appeal for game protection to George Bird Grinnell, editor of Forest and Stream. His argument was buttressed by many observations of the slaughter “of the largest and finest game animals in the country.”[296] In 1879 Superintendent Norris made a similar observation in his annual report. He stated that, with the rapid influx of tourists and the demand for such food, the policy could not long continue without serious results. He, thereupon, issued an order for the protection of the bison as the herd was not in excess of six hundred. However, this commendable move proved ineffective, and the hunters went merrily about their avocation.

About this time Norris left the Park service, but before doing so he had completed and occupied a unique structure on Capitol Hill, called Fort Yellowstone. It was a blockhouse of hewn timber with a balcony and three wings, surmounted by a gun turret. He wanted to be prepared for the next Indian attack, while the problems actually confronting the Park officials were of quite a different character. Yellowstone was still a wilderness, and many visitors would not endure restraints. In 1883 Secretary of the Interior Hoke Smith caught two hundred trout in one day, and the next year Secretary of War Dan Lamont only caught fifty-three![297]

Old Fort Yellowstone.

In 1882 Patrick A. Conger, of Iowa, succeeded Norris as superintendent. His administration was weak and vacillating in practically every respect. Scarcely anything was improved, but all difficulties were aggravated. Vandalism, forest fires, and general mismanagement were added to the problem of vanishing wild life. John S. Crosby, Governor of Montana, wrote a scathing denunciation of the Park officials to the Secretary of the Interior, Henry M. Teller.[298] This official contemplated the leasing of considerable portions of the Park to responsible persons in the hope that they would, through self-interest, give the protection which the government had failed to provide.[299] While Montana’s governor complained and the Secretary hesitated Wyoming territorial officials took action. The Wyoming legislature intervened by providing stringent measures for the protection of timber, game, fish, and natural curiosities of the Park. A jail was erected, and the territorial officials got ready for business. Cowboy type-cast officers had a lively time enforcing regulations and levying fines for personal emolument upon strangers toward whom they felt a natural suspicion.[300] Vexatious arrests, made under the sweeping provisions of the act, defeated the purpose of the Park “as a pleasuring ground for the people.” Citizens questioned the right of a territory to exercise criminal jurisdiction and judicial powers in a federal reservation. The act was repealed in 1886, but the effect was to leave the Park in a worse plight than ever before. As it became generally known that the superintendent had no support beyond the rules of the department and their own personal force,

the rules and regulations were ignored, while outlaws and vagabonds from the surrounding region made the nation’s pleasure ground a place of refuge. The hotels were frequented by gamblers and adventurers, who preyed upon the unwary tourist, while forest fires, originating mysteriously in remote and inaccessible places, raged unchecked.[301]

Robert E. Carpenter took office as Park Superintendent in August, 1884. In his view the Park presented an opportunity for personal and corporate exploitation. He was in full accord with a conspiracy to obtain private ownership of strategic locations. This scheme was advanced by an organization known as The Improvement Company which went directly before Congress with its proposition. In this effort, the nadir of private greed and administrative indifference was reached. However, the bad cause was lost, the superintendent removed, and a new and better administration came into being.[302] The influence of General Phil Sheridan was a constant factor in promoting the welfare of the Park. Beginning in 1881, he made a series of annual tours of the region. After each inspection he earnestly appealed to public sentiment, in behalf of proper government, for the area. Whereupon, Congress passed the Sundry Civil Bill of March, 1883 which forbade the granting of leases in excess of ten acres to a single party and provided for the employment of ten assistant superintendents. This measure also authorized the Secretary of the Interior to call upon the Secretary of War for troops to patrol the Park.

In May, 1885 David W. Wear of Missouri brought intelligent and vigorous effort to the problem. At the close of the season he wrote a comprehensive report that carried a tone of real interest and purpose: “The discipline of the force was bad; no head to anything.... The game had been shot with impunity and marketed at the hotels.”[303] He secured the services of a trusty mountaineer, and together they rounded up the worst of the “skin hunters” and punished them to the full extent of the law. Of course, that was simply arrest and expulsion from the Park, together with the forfeiture of equipment used in the violation.

During the season of 1885 a committee of congressmen visited the Park for the purpose of ascertaining how wisely the recent appropriation of $40,000 was being used and inquiring into the administration of laws.[304] The report of this and other investigating groups seemed to be that, although Superintendent Wear was performing his duty efficiently and fearlessly, the whole situation was honeycombed with error, corruption, confusion, and suspicion. The Park was in need of redemption; something had to be done. The high purposes of the Dedicatory Act were being frustrated. An avalanche of petitions, representing opinion from thirty-one states, reached the Department of the Interior and could not be ignored.

Therefore, the Department of the Interior called upon the United States Army to effect a new birth. This action was taken under the authority of the act of March 3, 1883, wherein the Secretary of War, upon the request of the Secretary of the Interior, was directed to provide:

Details of troops to prevent trespassers or intruders from entering the Park for the purpose of destroying the game or objects of curiosity therein, or for any other purpose prohibited by law, and to remove such persons from the Park if found therein.[305]

Accordingly, on August 20, 1886, Captain Moses Harris with a troop of the first cavalry took charge. Detachments of soldiers were soon stationed at Norris, Lower and Upper Geyser basins, Canyon, Riverside, and Soda Butte. Old frontiersmen were notified to desist from their poaching activities; prowling Indians were ordered to stay away; forest fires were checked; and the tone of all departments of service and accommodation improved. The Hayes and Lacey acts granted the necessary authority in respect to leases, protection, and punishment. Captain Harris proved to be a forthright administrator. He established a system of patrols stemming out from the permanent stations. The patrolmen were instructed to not only follow the regular roads and trails but to occasionally visit unfrequented places.[306] The patrolmen were ordered to keep a sharp lookout for bear trappers, poachers, and forest fires. Persons traveling in the Park between October 1 and June 1 were to be viewed with suspicion: in fact, they were to be questioned closely and watched as they journeyed from station to station.

There were many frontiersmen who continued to ignore the Captain’s warnings about poaching. This challenge was accepted, and on August 19, 1888 a scouting party apprehended a trapper near the southern border. He gave his name as Andrew S. Page but later admitted he had been arrested the previous year as John Andrews. His horse and outfit were confiscated, and he was expelled from the Park.[307] In September of the same year Thomas Garfield was caught in the act of trapping beaver in Willow Creek. He was given the same treatment. Garfield made ominous threats to get even, and a few days later a forest fire was started by someone near Norris. In spite of occasional arrests the practice of poaching persisted. Trapping habits were deep-seated and penalties, too mild.

In the years that followed the cases of Tom Newcomb, June Buzzel, Jay Whitman, James Courtney, A. G. Vance, E. Sheffeld, Pendleton, and Van Dych were tried with various degrees of success.[308]

The most notorious case was that of Ed Howell of Cooke, Montana. Early in March, 1894, a party was organized to visit the winter range of the buffalo. Members were Captain George L. Scott, Lieutenant William W. Forsyth, Scout Felix Burgess, A. E. Burns, Frank Jay Haynes, Sergeant Troike, and two other noncommissioned officers. They traveled on skis, and when they reached the Canyon, Emerson Hough and Billy Hofer joined them. About twelve miles up Pelican Creek they discovered the cache of a poacher. Six bison heads were suspended in a tree. Several shots were heard, but as it was snowing the direction was difficult to determine. However, Scout Burgess was able to approach the poacher without being seen or heard, even by the dog. He got the drop on Howell, which was a good thing in view of the character of the man.[309] He had driven a half-dozen other bison in the deep snow and killed them.

The culprit was taken to Mammoth where the presence of the writer Emerson Hough and a representative of Forest and Stream gave national publicity to the case. Howell was quite a robust personality, and he responded to the limelight. “How does a poacher operate to avoid two troops of soldiers?” “It is the simplest thing in the world,” said Howell, “just wait for a snowstorm, enter the desired area, make a wide detour to check tracks of pursuers, if any, and go to work.” “Why did you do it?” “Well, bison heads are worth from $100 to $400 apiece.”[310]

The articles in Forest and Stream apprised the nation of the fact that there were less than one hundred head of bison left in the Park and that the government’s failure to provide real protection was threatening the extinction of all the larger animals. One side of the reaction was critical of the army administration. Said one observer, “I would rather have three good, intelligent, honorable men, inured to the life of prospector and hunter, in these mountains to watch the Park, than all the soldiers now there....”[311]

However, a constructive remedy was provided by legislation in the passage of the act of May 7, 1894. This measure positively prohibited hunting and trapping in every form, under heavy penalties. A clear-cut basis of jurisdiction was provided by the Vest Bill. A United States Commissioner was appointed, “who shall reside in the Park,” to issue processes and hear cases. An appeal from his decisions might be made before the Federal District Court for the District of Wyoming. Hon. John W. Meldrum was the first man to receive this assignment. He held the position until 1935 when he was succeeded by T. Paul Wilcox.

Within a year after the passage of the Protective Act, Captain George S. Anderson was able to report that a healthy effect was evident. That was not the end of poaching because it has existed in a slight and subtle manner to this very day. However, around the turn of the century, the poacher gave way to the road agent as the Park’s most exciting criminal.

W. S. Chapman
Poacher caught in the act.

In Captain Harris’ report of 1888 there is reference to a stage robbery of July 4, 1887. Subsequently, William James and a man named Higgenbottom were convicted and fined $1000 each and given a year’s sentence in the Montana State Penitentiary. Again, on August 14, 1897, two masked men held up and robbed six Yellowstone Park Transportation coaches and one spring wagon. The place of the robbery was between Canyon and Norris, the amount of the “haul” being over $500. These offenders were apprehended and identified as Charles Reebe, alias “Morphine Charley,” and Charles Switzer. They were also convicted, fined, and imprisoned.[312]

On August 24, 1908, on Spring Creek, one masked man successfully held up nine coaches carrying a total of one hundred and fifteen people. The booty collected totaled $1,363.95 in cash and $730.25 in watches and jewelry. The entire cavalcade consisted of thirty-two coaches, escorted by one trooper. The road agent did not show himself until the soldier and eight of the coaches had passed. Thereafter, each one was held up and ordered on its way before the next one arrived. The victims of this outrage held a meeting in the Lake Hotel and drafted a set of resolutions reviewing all of the facts. They complained because they were deprived of personal firearms and denied sufficient protection to life and property. They also petitioned for redress. These resolutions, together with the names of the victims, were printed in a souvenir edition and widely distributed.[313]

Perhaps the most daring robbery in Yellowstone history was executed near Shoshone Point, on July 29, 1915. It was there that Edward B. Trafton, alias Ed Harrington, an outlaw from Teton Basin, duplicated the feat of the 1908 season; the amount taken was about $2200. However, Trafton was apprehended and convicted of the latter crime on December 15, 1915. His sentence was a five-year term in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

Robberies of a less dramatic character still occur. In 1941 two rangers fished several purses out of Cauliflower Geyser. They had been snatched from parked cars, rifled, and cast away, but the geyser threw them up, and they were used as evidence in effecting a conviction. Times and methods change, but crime goes on forever.

Another problem that has constantly confronted every administration is vandalism. A vandal is any person who takes flowers or specimens and writes on or defaces natural objects, and his name is legion. The more cunningly contrived a work of nature becomes, the greater the temptation to remove it to one’s own premises. This urge reduces even dignified people to the most amazing behavior. They will pry and chop in such a way as to destroy an ornament for all time. Again, there is the untoward desire to throw tokens, small coins, bottles, poles, and detritus into pools and geysers “just to see what will happen.”

Not even Old Faithful is exempt from this wantonness. It is a matter of record that one party, wishing to experiment, filled its orifice “with at least a thousand pounds of stones, trees, and stumps” and then sat down to await further developments. Another group wrote this shameless account: “We abused that spring [geyser] with everything in our power. We threw sticks into it and stones, but it was no use; nothing would rile it.”[314] Name writing in pools and geysers is particularly alluring to a certain class as nature fixes the insult indelibly so that in after years all men may read, in letters as large as a neon sign, that “Sadie, Mamie, and Jack” visited the Park. Many a ranger, attempting to eradicate such legends with his wire brush, has heartily agreed with the following statement “... and when the man from Oshkosh writes his name with a blue pencil on her sacred face, let him spend six months where the scenery is circumscribed and entirely artificial.”[315] Will the public never learn that, although it owns the Park, ownership may be expressed in much more appropriate ways?

The offense of “soaping” geysers is said to have originated in 1885 when a Chinaman encompassed a small spring with his tent and started a laundry. When the spring became impregnated with soap there was an eruption, and up went tent, washing, and Chinaman! It is a fact that soap produces viscosity which retains heat, and as steam rises it may aid explosive action. Hence, if some visitors could have their way, the beautiful sapphire springs and geysers would be “in the suds” constantly throughout the season.[316] Such activity is strictly prohibited by the government.

In recent years Park officials have been greatly distressed by another type of violation. Large numbers of people are disposed to cast tax tokens and pennies into the otherwise beautiful hot springs and geysers. Familiar with wishing wells in commercial resorts, they fall short in adjusting to national park standards of conduct. As one ranger said, “They forget what kind of animal throws a (s)cent!”

Many lovers of Yellowstone would like to see the rangers crack down upon rule violators with a vengeance. They argue that a full 10 per cent of the human race will lie, steal, and destroy flora, fauna, and features whenever and wherever they find a chance to do so. Of course, the rangers are quick in recognizing varying degrees of moral and social responsibility. Their policy to date is one of energetic education and moderate restraint by authority.

The problem of forest fires causes much concern during July and August. Fires may start from natural causes, as from lightning, and friction caused by trees rubbing together during violent windstorms, but about 50 per cent of them are caused by the carelessness of man. Of course, nature manages to extinguish forest fires eventually, but man has learned to cooperate.

The officials have developed efficiency in organization and methods of fighting fires. Major lookouts are established upon Mt. Washburn, Mt. Holmes, Mt. Sheridan, Purple Mountain, and Pelican Cone. Lookouts also stand guard in other strategic positions. Fireguards are employed to clear trails and be available on a moment’s notice. District rangers train and direct employees within their jurisdictions and take daily “fire weather” readings. Tools, equipment, and provisions are always packed and ready for action. When a fire breaks out a base camp is set up at a road terminal; from there the flow of men and supplies is governed through radio communication. Fire camps are established in safe places, by the water supply nearest the burning area. Tools, sleeping bags, and food reach the fire camp on the backs of mules, by reason of the skill of expert packers. However, airplanes are sometimes used in parachuting fighters and supplies to the spot in a hurry.

Accepted principles of procedure consist of: speed in the first instance before the fire “blows up”; striking hard at daybreak after it has calmed down and before the wind fans it; cutting a line with saw and ax; trenching it in with shovel and Pulaski; using pumps where possible; and always praying for rain. Fighting fire is an arduous, dirty business.

Yellowstone forests are predominantly of lodgepole pine. This species is thin-skinned and non-resistant to fire, but it takes pains to store its seeds up in tightly closed cones. These hold the seed fertile for several years. Thus, although raging fire may devour the forest, the scorched cones open, and the hoarded seed shoots new growth triumphantly out of the ashes.[317]

It has been observed that lodgepole forests are not very valuable for lumber; neither do they present the most attractive appearance. Still, the trees grow profusely, and in so doing they provide an excellent agency for water conservation. Let fire destroy the forests upon the sources of the Snake and Yellowstone rivers, and many of the present garden spots of the West would be added to her barren wastes. Therefore, in the mature opinion of many experts, the forests of this area are more valuable in the conservation of soil and water than they would be for grazing and lumbering. The present policy will keep the mountains at home, prevent floods, and assure a more constant water supply.[318]

Perhaps the most tantalizing problem has arisen from the half-century application of the Protective Act of 1894, wherein:

The killing, wounding, or capturing, at any time, of any bird or wild animal, except dangerous animals, when it is necessary to prevent them from destroying life or inflicting an injury, is prohibited within the limits of the Park.[319]

Wild and dangerous despite appearances.

People possessing firearms must have them sealed upon entering the Park. Thus, the animal inhabitants virtually enjoy a natural life expectancy so far as man is concerned.[320] It is an anomalous situation, without a parallel since the Garden of Eden. On the whole, the animals have lost their fear of man, and still very few of them show any disposition to injure him except in self-defense. Deer, black bear, marmot, squirrels, and many species of birds are very responsive to opportunities of human association. Several other types exhibit good-natured indulgence toward human curiosity, but a few species are so elusive as to be almost inaccessible. In fact, there are some creatures that possess such a decided allergy to the presence of man that their survival is jeopardized by human proximity. Moose, grizzlies, bighorn, antelope, beaver, and swan conform to this type. They require an environment of varying specifications from swamp to rocky crag, but possessing the element of seclusion as a common denominator. Park officials recognize these factors and endeavor to meet the requirements for the health of their denizens. Furthermore, they are willing to allow the so-called predators the use of the Park as a sanctuary, or refuge, even though their instincts seem to be of a wholly destructive character. The latch key is out for wolverine, coyote, and cougar.

It should be emphasized that in the case of black bear human contacts are fraught with dire consequences for all concerned. Approximately a hundred tourists sustain bear bites or scratches each season, and many bears are killed for these offenses. Park officials frequently doubt the possibility of reconciling the presence of black bear and people. If the latter were governed by the principle of intelligence, it would be an easy matter. But they simply refuse to believe that the bears are wild. As a result, they take privileges with a mother and cubs which no one would ever think of trying with a neighbor’s hound.

It is admitted by all that black bear cubs are among nature’s most interesting creatures. They are the “Happy Hooligans” and “Katzenjammer Kids” of the Park. What a spectacle they provide, standing Jesse James-like along the highway, tumbling over each other in fun, or scampering up a tree in fright! “Do you mean to tell me those cute creatures will harm anyone?” says a lady, “Why they smile and wiggle their tails in the most cunning manner!” “Yes, lady,” replies the ranger, “but you must not believe either end of a bear.”

When a serious injury or a death occurs strong resentment is expressed against the administration. It is advised to decide either to turn the Park over to the bears or to the people. Then a party of tourists expresses great disappointment over not having been “held up” by a bear. What will be the outcome of this tug-of-war? It is to be hoped that the public will eventually learn to obey the regulation, “Do Not Feed or Molest the Bears.”[321]

Grizzly, king of the Rockies.

The American bison was probably saved from extinction in Yellowstone. Although native to the region, the joint ravages of poachers and septicemia finally reduced the herd to a mere remnant. In 1895 a hay harvesting project was started in Hayden Valley. This enterprise was subsequently moved to the Lamar Valley where a buffalo ranch, now called the Lamar Unit, was established. Feeding these animals in the coldest months during winters of exceptional severity has proved salutary. Another precaution was taken in 1902 when twenty-one head were purchased from the Goodnight and Allard herds in Texas and Montana, respectively. Since then the herd has flourished and is now stabilized at eight hundred head. The increase is reduced periodically and distributed among near-by Indian agencies.

A reduction policy has also been adopted to control the northern elk herd. Summer is lavish in its gifts to Park elk. Lush grasses, shady dells, and cool weather make an ideal condition for them. Fall finds them fat and sleek, with bulls bugling in every glen. Perhaps the summer range is adequate for thousands of them, but then winter comes, with its weakening cold and deepening snows, and they are forced by storms into restricted areas where hunger stalks them on every side. It is evident, therefore, that the maximum must be limited by the winter range capacity. In view of these conditions the officials of the Park and the state of Montana have worked out a satisfactory policy of diminution. A number of elk-hunting permits are issued to citizens who foregather along the northern boundary to participate in a bombardment that is swift and effective. In this manner the Park herd is kept in balance, and surplus elk do not migrate to the valleys to bother the ranchers. Of course an advantage accrues to these hunters because each one is very sure of getting his elk. This program should preclude a repetition of the agitation aroused during World War I when proposals were pressed upon the Food Administrator to allow hunting parties a free reign in securing Park elk and buffalo.[322]

More serious attempts to invade the Park’s wilderness area came in the form of several irrigation projects, a railroad, and the northern boundary segregation issue. Each of these propositions, which threatened to modify the natural character and unity of the reservation, was strenuously resisted by Park administrations and the public generally.

In 1919 an irrigation project was sponsored by Idaho interests. It was a comprehensive plan that contemplated a dam on Yellowstone River, thereby raising the level of Yellowstone Lake. The water from this mighty reservoir would then be tapped by a tunnel through the Continental Divide, which would deliver the water into the Snake River. Other dams were designed to impound water along Fall and Bechler rivers. When bills S3925 and H.R.10469 reached their respective floors they were subjected to strong denunciation and defeated.[323] The next year, 1920, Senator Walsh, of Montana, also introduced a bill for the purpose of building a dam across the Yellowstone River at the lake outlet. This project also contemplated the generation of electricity. Extensive hearings before the Senate Committee on Irrigation resulted in the bill’s death at that stage.

The movement for the extension of the Northern Pacific Railroad from Cinnabar to Cooke City, Montana, was not so easily arrested. From the first discovery of gold on Clarks Fork, in 1870, there had been a campaign for a railroad, as the early prospects were promising. However, little progress was made, and when the railroad bill of 1894 was defeated certain mining interests in Montana became alarmingly hostile. Frustrated in the extension of a line through the only accessible route, because of National Park sentiment, these interests came out for segregation. On March 1, 1894, the Helena Independent declared:

Congress should make the Yellowstone River [Lamar] and Soda Butte Creek the northern boundary of the Park and charter a railroad to Cooke City on the north of these Streams....[324]

The Livingston Post struck a more ominous note in its issue of November 30 of the same year:

Everybody concedes that the destruction of the Park by fire would be a public, a national calamity, and about the only way to avert such an impending danger is for Congress to grant the reasonable request of the people of the West by passing the segregation bill.[325]

In his report of 1895 Captain George S. Anderson, Acting Superintendent, quietly exulted, “It is a pleasure to note that the various bills for the segregation of the Park were killed in the last Congress.”[326] This official was anything but popular in Montana at that time. Thus, it would appear that Yellowstone, like nearly every national institution, has been at the crossroads of conflicting interests, and its present status has not been achieved without vigilance.

Throughout the years the reports of the army superintendents conformed to a regular pattern about travel, roads, concessions, wild animals, fish, protection of natural phenomena, accommodations, fires, sanitation, violations, and recommendations. Whether captains, majors, colonels, or generals, these army men performed commendable service. Still, it was an army regime dealing with a civilian situation. Hence, there were some incongruities and many deficiencies.

What were the facts relative to the army administration in Yellowstone? Did conditions warrant a change? The circumstances responsible for the assignment in 1884 have been given. Two troops of cavalry comprised the normal complement. A main base, called Camp Sheridan, was established in Mammoth, and a series of stations were located at the principal points of interest. At these posts detachments of soldiers acted as guardians of their respective domains. From each station daily mounted patrols started toward other posts on either flank until they met.[327] In that manner, two hundred miles of forest road were observed between each dawn and dusk as the soldiers made their tours from “Slough Creek to Bison Peak, Grizzly Lake to Hellroaring Creek, and Canyon to Wedded Trees” ... almost ad infinitum.

Each soldier carried a bucket and shovel as defense against fire and a little book of Rules, Regulations and Instructions, called the “bible,” to prepare him for any contingency. Among his routine instructions these orders appear: “... kill mountain lions, coyotes and timber wolves ... permit no cats and dogs ... keep pack trains off the road when vehicles are passing ... allow no one to approach within one hundred yards of bears....”

Each patrolman was required to record his daily activities in a journal and turn it over to his commanding officer. A perusal of these journal records is, on the whole, rather dull. The reading is not equal to the performance because spelling and diction were not among the soldiers’ qualifications for duty. Still, there are occasions when, although “the letter killeth, the spirit giveth life.” Incidents dealing with clues leading to the arrest of poachers and road agents, seizure of vandals, searches for lost persons, rescues of people treed by grizzlies and moose, or breakdowns, tip-overs, and runaways fairly shine with the excitement of the time.[328]

The soldiers had the finest western horses:

Our horses are good all-around animals, good jumpers, runners and drillers. Each horse understands the trumpet calls.... If the army mules are with the herd, the horses feel safe, for as soon as a bear or deer appears, they make a dash for them, and when the game sees those mules, with ears laid back, coming on a dead run, it always makes tracks for the woods.[329]

The soldier’s uniform consisted of a dark blue blouse and light blue trousers, unstrapped and cut spoonshape over the boot, cartridge belt, revolver, peaked cap, and worsted gloves with black buttons. These boys, like soldiers generally, were partial to their uniforms and dress parade assignments. Fire fighting and trail clearing were onerous indeed, and while “a little road making on service is not a bad thing, continuous navying is enough to knock the heart out of any army.”[330]

The army’s public relations seemed to have been very satisfactory. The soldiers were uniformly friendly and helpful toward the tourists. John Muir considered it a “pleasing contrast to the ever changing management of blundering, plundering politicians.... The soldiers do their duty so quietly that the traveler is scarce aware of their presence.”[331] Tourists called the soldiers “Swatties”; an English term in popular use at that time.

One Charles D. Warner, of New York City, was also led to rejoice that there was at least one spot in the United States where law was promptly enforced. He considered the military administration an object lesson for the whole nation in point of efficiency and impartiality.[332] Opposite reactions came from nearly all who ran afoul the law.

Perhaps the greatest weakness in the army regime was in the educational inadequacy of its personnel. About 1910 a difference in tourist interests was obvious. People, generally, began to inquire into the causes and effects of the natural phenomena. It became increasingly apparent that an effective public stewardship required knowledge of chemistry, botany, geology, zoology, and history. The reign of the “cock and bull” type of story was drawing to an end. The era of greater natural history interpretation and appreciation was dawning. Unless something could be done to educate the Park’s guardians a considerable educational opportunity would be lost, not to mention the loss of scientific solution of forest problems in general.

W. S. Chapman
Cavalry Troops in Park Patrol.

This need is clearly reflected in Captain Anderson’s report concerning geysers:

I find there is a general belief in the minds of the tourists that there is some measure of regularity in the period of eruptions of most if not all of the geysers. At various times during the last three years I have had records made by the guards of the observed eruptions. Of course, these do not include all of the geysers, nor have all of the eruptions of any one of them been noted. I enclose for publication as an appendix to this report, a table made of observation upon them during the past three years. A casual inspection of it reveals the fact that none but Old Faithful has the slightest pretense to regularity.[333]

A rhythmic regularity was there all right, but, strangely enough, it required the careful observation of the casual scientist to discover a fact which entirely escaped the more permanent, but less observant, soldiers. In 1926 the Geophysical Laboratory of the Carnegie Institution directed Dr. Eugene T. Allen and Dr. Arthur L. Day to make an exhaustive study of Yellowstone’s thermal features. After seven seasons of research, in cooperation with the National Park Service, they were able to publish a monumental treatise on this subject.[334] Later observations by such naturalists as George Marler, W. Verde Watson, and Herbert Lystrup not only confirmed the principle of rhythmic recurrence in many cases but discovered behavior patterns that enabled rangers to forecast a given eruption with uncanny accuracy.

Factors of this character were in the mind of Secretary of the Interior Franklin K. Lane in 1915 when he appointed Stephen T. Mather as his assistant. Mr. Mather’s portfolio particularly related to the formulation of an integrated National Park policy.

Chapter XV
THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE

Although there were thirteen national parks in 1912, each received a separate appropriation and had separate management. The business of these playgrounds was scattered among three departments, and nowhere in Washington was there a single official or desk wholly devoted to their interest.[335] To this problem Stephen Tyng Mather brought high intelligence, sound philosophy, and supreme endeavor. By 1915 he had achieved administrative experience that ripened into wisdom equal to undertake the preservation of America’s scenic and recreational heritage.

With this general proposition in mind, Mr. Mather made two visits to Yellowstone during the season of 1915. There he carefully analyzed the administrative policies and personnel. While it is only fair to state that other federal officials were also planning a new national park organization and procedure it was largely Mr. Mather’s Yellowstone report that provided the needed impetus. From then on he supplied the energy, foresight, and devotion to effect a transition.

On August 25, 1916 the National Park Service Bill received President Wilson’s signature. This measure placed the control and general supervision of the entire national park activity squarely into the hands of a Director of National Parks. The bill was sponsored by Senator Reed Smoot of Utah and Representative William Kent of California.

Thereafter, on October 1, 1916, the troops of U.S. Cavalry left Fort Yellowstone for duty along the Mexican border. With C. A. Lindsley as Acting Superintendent a fine ranger corps was organized of mountain scouts and released soldiers. Shortly afterwards Congress reversed its action and voted to deny the use of Department of the Interior funds for protective purposes. This forced the return of the soldiers, and the army resumed control on June 30, 1917.

During the next six months National Park Service officials, aided by the army officers, gathered data which proved the inadvisability of continuing the use of troops. It should be noted that the attitude of the officers throughout was cogently expressed by Captain Harris:

And it is believed that to the extent in which the present method of government and protection is an improvement upon former methods it is due to the visible power and force of the National Government as represented by the military garrison in the Park.

It is not to be inferred that the claim is made that a military government is the only one practicable for the Park, or even that it is the best adapted or most suitable. It is believed, however, that no efficient protection can be given to the Park without the support of a well-organized and disciplined police force of some description.[336]

In this spirit, the cost of a military garrison and its lack of opportunities to drill were reviewed. It was clearly demonstrated that a ranger force of a chief ranger, four assistants, twenty-five permanent Park rangers of the first class, and twenty-five seasonal rangers would constitute a “well-organized and disciplined police force” and something else besides. It was also pointed out that the cost would be considerably less. This effort resulted in a second withdrawal of the troops in 1918. At the same time another ranger force was effected with substantially the same personnel as developed in 1916.[337] In due time the members of this new corps acquired a modest attitude of confidence in their own capacity which still abides.

Mr. Mather assumed office as the first National Park Director on May 16, 1917. In a short time the fruits of his vision were disclosed. Under his inspiring leadership the National Park program was steadily expanded. Peace was made with, and a degree of cooperation obtained from, the natural antagonists of the National Park Service. Several wealthy citizens who had acquired vast private estates were induced to donate portions thereof for the general public. Sportsmen who had observed the diminution in numbers of wild creatures were converted to the idea of refuges through self-interest. The positions of the lumber, grazing, irrigation, and water-power interests were less yielding on this all-out conservation issue. They would evidently favor a compromise. The general public gradually responded to the suggestion that the country beautiful was even more alluring than beautiful cities.[338]

In Secretary Lane’s third annual report in 1919 the National Park Service policy was announced under three broad principles:

First, that the National Parks must be maintained in absolutely unimpaired form for the use of future generations as well as those of our own time; Second, that they are set apart for the use, observation, health, and pleasure of the people; and Third, that the national interest must dictate all decisions affecting public or private enterprise in the Parks.[339]

Since then the program has made steady progress. Its purposes and policies have been enlarged and clarified. The acceptable qualities of parkhood were defined. Such an area must be supremely significant, having a national appeal whether scenic, archaeological, scientific, or historical. Only such features of natural architecture were to be included as would represent the highest accomplishment within its class. For example, Grand Canyon of the Colorado exemplifies the most extraordinary achievement of stream erosion, whereas Yellowstone is most unique in the realm of thermal activity.[340]

The National Park represents the apex of the conservation program, wherein the principle of optimum use is the dominating force. The twin purposes of enjoyment plus conservation always remain uppermost. Commercialization beyond actual requirements is not to be tolerated, and to this end close supervision is maintained.

Natural species of animals and plants were to abide in normal relationships, free from man’s interference, except under urgent circumstances such as were described in the discussion of wild life control. The primitive appearance of Yellowstone forests is distasteful to some people. It was a carping German traveler who said, “Look at your dead trees and burned stumps in the woods ... and your streams are full of driftwood. It is not cared for.”[341] In that sense Yellowstone is not a park but a wilderness full of the beauty of natural disorder. All things remain as nature leaves them. No man disturbs landslide, log jam, or wind-swept lodgepole avalanche.

The appearance of the trails, roads, bridges, buildings, and facilities of all kinds is gradually being brought into harmony with the natural environment. Under the guidance of landscape artists, structural design and location are made conformable to maximum scenic advantages while at the same time, being inconspicuous themselves. A few examples will illustrate this trend toward artificial recession. In 1889 Captain Boutelle complained against the statute which prescribed that no hotel shall be erected within four hundred and forty yards of any object of interest. He urged a reduction of one-half the distance.[342] Now, all the accommodations in the immediate Grand Canyon area are being moved a modest distance away, where they will still provide the services which visitors need, but not intrude upon the natural scene. Another case is afforded by the bear shows. Formerly they were provided in several places; then modified to a less artificial presentation on Otter Creek. In 1942 they were discontinued. It is truly exciting for thousands of people to observe thirty or forty grizzlies jostle and cuff each other around a “combination salad” platform. Still, the circumstance is highly artificial, a sort of Roman holiday affair, and therefore inappropriate. It is hoped that the Lord of all American wild life may be allowed to go his way undisturbed, otherwise grizzlies may become “holdup bears and bums.” Such an eventuality, on a nocturnal basis of operation, is by no means improbable. That development would consign this magnificent animal to a precipitous disappearance from the earth.

Yellowstone’s educational opportunities were early recognized and utilized by the scientists. The passing of time has widened this field-study interest. Supervised groups now come from all parts of America, with individual scientists hailing from both home and abroad. In fact, more than a hundred specialists have spent from a few weeks to several years in the Park. The results of these efforts have run up the volume of scientific titles to approximately five hundred.

By 1920 naturalist activity was in the course of development, the outcome of an avowed purpose to facilitate the real enjoyment of the people. To this work Director Mather brought especial perception, skill, and even personal funds. In fact, he may be considered as the father of the movement. It was in 1918, when visiting Lake Tahoe, that Mather observed the activities of a young man named Harold Bryant, whom the management had employed to interpret nature to their guests. Dr. Bryant’s work so impressed the Director that he took him to Yosemite where his success with the public was immediate. Ranger-naturalists were appointed in other parks, and later Dr. H. C. Bryant was placed in charge of the educational branch of the service. Two notable institutions quickly caught the vision and cooperated. In 1925 the Yosemite School of Natural History was founded as a non-profit scientific organization. Courses in botany, zoology, and geology were given. Emphasis was placed on field work, and the final trip lasted two weeks. The instructional staff was composed largely of University of California professors, while the twenty trainees were chosen from a hundred candidates.[343] In 1935 Yale University furthered the naturalist incentive by providing a fellowship. Since 1937 two have been granted. Yellowstone Park has taken advantage of these services.

After a decade of experimentation in field trips, fireside lectures, and exhibits a Research and Education branch was created within the National Park Service. This bureau outlined a policy of portraying certain phases of the American scene in a correlated story. Laboratories were developed in Berkeley, California; Fort Hunt, Virginia; and Washington, D. C. The leading men in this program were H. C. Bryant, F. W. Miller, W. W. Atwood, F. R. Oastler, A. F. Hall, H. C. Bumpus, and C. P. Russell.

In 1920, Superintendent Horace M. Albright, assisted by J. E. Haynes, organized the naturalist program in Yellowstone. M. P. Skinner was the first Park Naturalist. He was succeeded by Edmund J. Sawyer in 1924. Four years later Dorr G. Yeager assumed the office; in 1932 Dr. C. Max Bauer became Park Naturalist and served until 1946, when David de L. Condon was advanced to the position.[344] All of these men have been nature-wise and public-minded. As time passed two assistants to the Chief Naturalist and thirty-five seasonal Park ranger-naturalists completed this organization. Robert N. McIntyre became Chief Park Naturalist in 1959.

W. S. Chapman
Park Ranger-Naturalist and tourist group.

Today Yellowstone’s Naturalist Division stands as the symbol of America’s love for the great out-of-doors. Its philosophy is wise and comprehensive. Its scientists have delved deeply for the facts. Still, there is a spirit of self-abnegation among the personnel. They serve all and sundry in every possible way, and yet they are pledged to the preservation of the natural treasures. Their contribution to protection of park values is shared with that of the ranger staff. The number of public contacts runs into the hundreds of thousands annually. Wise, indeed, is the tourist who avails himself of this free guide service.

The principal points of interest are visited over footpath or by auto caravan. Daily schedules of these activities are posted, and an illustrated lecture is held in an amphitheater each night. Many citizens have expressed their satisfaction with this naturalist service:

He unravelled before our city-wearied eyes the skein of beauty nature has hidden in this great preserve. With skillful phrase he repictured for us the aeons during which the mountains were wrinkling and the cobalt lakes were born. His keen eyes found us mountain sheep ... his wide knowledge compassed the flowers and birds along the way. He knew when and where to take us to see the beaver at work, and where the water ouzel bubbled forth its cascade of song. He answered all our questions with calm courtesy. Around the nightly campfire he brought to us in song and story the romance and exuberance of the west....

The fire of his enthusiasm welded us to the National Park idea and out-of-doors as nothing had ever done. We returned to the east inspired by a new understanding of the greatness of America and the magnificence of its beauty.[345]

In 1928 the Laura Spelman Rockefeller Foundation made a donation to be used by the American Association of Museums in the Park. Under the direction of Dr. Hermon C. Bumpus museums were erected at Old Faithful, Madison, Norris and Fishing Bridge. The main museum at Mammoth was improved and a number of roadside exhibits were established.[346]

Mission 66 was begun by the National Park Service in 1956. It is a conservation program to assure full protection of irreplaceable scenic, scientific and historic treasures and to develop and staff the Parks to permit their wisest possible use for your enjoyment. Completion is scheduled for 1966, the 50th anniversary of the establishment of the National Park Service, hence Mission 66.

Under this program, new roads, bridges, campgrounds and other facilities are being built. A fine new visitor center was opened in 1958 at Canyon Village and a large number of attractive new roadside exhibits and signs interpret the human and natural history of the great natural museum that is Yellowstone.

During the score of years required to develop the naturalist branch, the protective division was not marking time. In 1920 James McBride became the first Chief Ranger. Since then Samuel Tilden Woodring, George F. Baggley, Francis D. LaNoue, Maynard Barrows, Curtis K. Skinner and Otto M. Brown have served. Nelson Murdock became Chief Ranger in 1960. Under their supervision the character of the personnel has been gradually changed. Originally a mountain scout and ex-soldier organization, it is now composed of college graduates. These men divide their time and effort between applying the principles of forest and wild life management with those of public relations. Physically robust, mentally alert, sociable and understanding, they properly exemplify the traditional informality and hospitality of the West.

Of course there have always been a few political appointees present among the seasonal Park rangers. This makes the group quite varied, somewhat in keeping with the universality of the tourists themselves. Many a city lad has had the time of his life in his fleeting role as a “ninety-day wonder.” Still there has always been a restraining influence reaching out from the chief ranger’s office. A young man is not allowed to become too self-conscious over his uniform or badge of authority.

The Superintendent presides over the protective and naturalist divisions and all other units of the National Park Service in Yellowstone. Only four men have held this position since the army withdrew in 1918. C. A. Lindsley was succeeded by Horace M. Albright in 1919. Mr. Albright served for ten years, after which Roger W. Toll took office. Edmund B. Rogers was appointed May 25, 1936, and served until November 1, 1956, when Superintendent Lemuel A. Garrison succeeded him. The superintendent’s office is the nerve center of the Park. From there all activities are co-ordinated. This official is also the liaison man with the National Park Service; he makes all estimates and recommendations; he contends for assistance from cooperating agencies, such as the Civilian Conservation Corps, Emergency Relief Administration, and Public Works Administration.[347] The Public Health Service, the Geological Survey, and the Fish and Wildlife Service each lend cooperation in their special fields. It is also his function to consider many letters of introduction and requests for special favors. He is expected, personally, to welcome numerous delegations and important national and foreign personages. Information and courtesies flow from his presence continuously. He must determine the bounds of concessionaires, hear major complaints, oppose all invasions by mercenary interests, and, if necessary, labor to expand the Park’s boundaries.

Madison Junction Historical Museum.

Beginning early in the twentieth century there were advocates of an extension southward. Many people wanted to have the cathedral-like Tetons incorporated in the Park. A campaign for a Greater Yellowstone was launched, and in 1918 Representative Mondell introduced a measure (H.R. 11661) providing for their incorporation.[348] However, the matter was delayed, and the passing of time resulted in the establishment of the Grand Teton National Park. A national park may only be created by an act of Congress; whereas an executive order is sufficient for the creation of a national monument or a moderate extension of a park boundary. Through a proclamation issued by President Hoover on October 20, 1932, Yellowstone National Park acquired a triangular strip of 7,600 acres of land, now called the Stevens Creek area. It is located northwest of Gardiner townsite, and it was enlarged to the extent of nearly a thousand acres the next year. In affairs of this character the National Park Service and the Superintendent work in close cooperation with the Secretary of the Interior. Indeed, the superintendency of Yellowstone is one of the ranking positions of its kind in the National Park Service. His final obligation is to be sure that the original objective “for the benefit and enjoyment of the people” is still the chief and ever-constant purpose.

It has been pointed out that the fulfillment of this objective is rather difficult, because various interests and groups have their own ideas concerning the purposes and methods of administering national parks. For example, in Idaho, there are some organizations that seek an Idaho entrance to the Park on Fall River. They point to the fact that distance and time would be appreciably reduced in reaching Old Faithful via this route. Besides, they aver, such an entrance would traverse a beautiful scenic area. These contentions are both valid and understandable. So is the demand for landing strips and airport facilities within the reservation boundaries.

The latter project, it is held, is identical to the position raised by motorists in 1915. National Park officials have met these issues squarely. Director Conrad L. Wirth and his Yellowstone representatives have vetoed both proposals. “Surely,” they reason, “the Park is for the people, but if it is multisected by highways and airways, what will become of the primitive areas?” Sizeable regions are essential for the propagation and preservation of wild life. In addition, they point to the fact that as of this date most people conceive of the parks as havens of relative quiet and rest.

During the travel season of 1959, Yellowstone was host to 1,489,112 visitors. This multitude exceeded the total of all persons entering the Park in the first half century of its existence. Facilitating their enjoyment and at the same time preserving the domain as a pleasuring ground for their descendants requires a good measure of understanding on the part of the public, together with a high degree of understanding and training upon the part of the officials.

Earth tremors are common in the Yellowstone region. The Hayden Survey reported feeling severe shocks near Steamboat Point on Yellowstone Lake in 1871. They named the site “Earthquake Camp.” Other quakes have been reported, mostly of a minor nature. At 11:38 p.m. on August 17, 1959, an earthquake of magnitude 7.1 on the Richter Scale struck the Yellowstone area. The epicenter of the quake was along the western boundary of the Park in the vicinity of Grayling Creek.

The greatest earthquake damage took place in the Madison Canyon about 7 miles below Hebgen Dam and outside Yellowstone. A massive slide of about 80 million tons of earth and rock blocked the canyon and entombed a number of campers along a half-mile stretch of the Madison River. This natural dam has created Earthquake Lake, a feature that will attract attention for years to come.

In Yellowstone National Park dangerous rock slides covered Park roads at several points along the Madison, Firehole, and Gibbon rivers, and at Golden Gate. Tall chimneys toppled from Old Faithful Inn and other Park buildings, and there was structural damage to many roads and buildings.

The hot springs showed a greater change in this one night than had been observed in the entire history of the Park. Close study of the thermal features revealed that most springs had discharged water copiously during the quake and aftershocks, and then ebbed below normal levels. Investigation revealed that at least 298 springs and geysers had erupted the night of the quake, and 160 of these were springs with no previous record of eruption. Other changes occurred slowly. The Fountain Paint Pot did not manifest unusual activity until several days after the quake, but then encroached upon walks and parking areas. Most of the hot springs became turbid, and even cold springs that fed the mountain streams on the west side of the Park discharged an opaque mud which discolored the creeks and rivers.

Equilibrium was gradually restored in the geyser basins. Some of the earthquake changes were permanent, others transitory. All of them make this chapter in the living geology of Yellowstone an intensely interesting one for Park visitors to learn about.

Upon receiving reports about earthquake effects throughout the Park, Superintendent Lon Garrison exclaimed, “The Lord had his arms around us. We had 18,000 people inside Yellowstone that night, and not one person was killed or badly hurt. Think what would have happened if the quake had come during daylight—at Old Faithful Inn, for example, where the chimney fell into the dining room.”

Thus, out of Yellowstone’s development under scouts, soldiers, and rangers, has come invaluable experience for the good of the whole nation. From its humble origin a service has evolved that now administers more than one hundred and seventy-five national park service areas. Perhaps the value of this program toward the enrichment of American life cannot be assessed. However, something of its breadth has been caught and cast in the bronze plaque at the Madison Junction Museum:

Stephen Tyng Mather
July 4, 1867 Jan. 22, 1930

He laid the foundation of the National Park Service. Defining and establishing the policy under which its areas shall be developed and conserved unimpaired for future generations. There will never come an end to the good that he has done.

Yellowstone is one of these irreducible frontiers which should never vanish, but to find a frontier one must first have the spirit of a frontiersman. Therefore within its confines are vast wilderness zones into which people may still go who cherish the elemental conditions of earth and its denizens. Here there may always be a pristine land, reminiscent of the primitive environment of mankind. Here is a temporary refuge for people distraught by the strain and turmoil of modern life. It is becoming increasingly clear that the nation which leads the world in feverish business activity requires playgrounds as well as workshops. If America would maintain its industrial supremacy let her plan not only the conservation of materials but of men.[349] Therefore, let them come to Yellowstone and other national parks and achieve physical, mental, and especially spiritual regeneration for all time to come. In Yellowstone, the National Park Service will be on hand to so direct the experience of the visitors to the end that even from afar and after many years their memories will return again. And, as the deepening twilight seems to bring the earth and the sky together, they may reflect upon a land where white-robed columns of steam ascend from the fissures of geysers long dead, like ghosts revisiting the scenes of their activity.[350]

Such is the desire of all large and generous minds. They are in full agreement with the glowing tribute of the Earl of Dunraven:

All honor then to the United States for having bequeathed as a free gift to man the beauties and curiosities of Wonderland. It is an act worthy of a great nation, and she will have her reward in the praise of the present army of tourists no less than in the thanks of the generations to come.[351]

And so, here is Yellowstone—The Gem of the Mountains. Is she not worthy of the fullest measure of preservation, appreciation, and defense? Surely, the Park is an incomparable heritage in the divine legacy that is America. May her fountains never fail but go dancing eternally along, shedding joy and inspiration upon the hearts of all who seek a certain treasure.

W. S. Chapman
Park Ranger.

Appendix I
YOUNG MEN CAMPING IN YELLOWSTONE WILDERNESS

An adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s
“The Feet of the Young Men”
By Merrill D. Beal

When Yellowstone Park is opened then the smokes of council rise,

Pleasant smokes ’ere yet twixt trail and trail they choose.

Then the ropes and girths are tested while they pack their last supplies,

Now the young men head for camps beyond the Tetons!

Faith will lead them to those altars, hope will light them to that shrine,

Pilot knobs will safely guide them to their goal.

They must go, go, go, away from home!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Away! The trail is clear before you,

When the old spring fret comes o’er you

And the Red Gods call for you!

They will see the beaver falling and hear the white swan calling,

They’ll behold the fishhawk fumble as bald eagle takes a tumble to rob him of his haul.

They will lie alone to hear the wild geese cry.

They may watch the blacktail mating as they work the chosen waters where the mackinaw are waiting

And the cutthroats jumping crazy for the fly!

They must go, go, go, away from here!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Begone! The way is clear before you

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods call for you!

They will see the lakeside lilies where the bull moose meets the cow,

Or maybe silver grizzlies nurse the sow.

They must climb the blue-roofed Rockies and observe that windy rift

Where the baffling mountain eddies chop and change.

They will learn the long day’s patience, belly down on talus drift,

And hear the thud of bison on the range.

It is there that they are going where the bighorn and the ewes lie,

To a trusty, nimble ranger that they know;

They have sworn an oath to keep it on the brink of Mitsiadazi

For the Red Gods call them out and they must go.

Let them go, go, go, away from home!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Be off! The trail is clear before you

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods make their medicine again.

“So it’s onward ponies, sally, this is not the place to dally!”

For the young men’s thoughts are turning to a camp of special yearning,

Hidden in a hanging valley.

They must find that blackened timber, they must head that racing stream,

With its raw, right-angled log jam at the end,

And a bar of sun-warmed gravel where a lad can bask and dream

To the click of shod canoe poles ’round the bend.

It is there that they are going with their rods and reels and traces,

With a silent, smoky packer that they know;

To their beds of fleecy fir-mat with the star light on their faces,

All are ready now to hold the evening show.

So they go, go, go, away from here!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

So long! The trail is clear before you,

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods call you forth and you must go!

In the afterglow of twilight, tales of wonder find their voice,

Trapping, fighting, robbing, poaching yield a choice:

There’s John Colter’s mighty run and Jim Bridger’s towering fun,

There’s Everts’ five-week fast and Ed Trafton’s crimson past.

There’s George Cowan’s rugged vim; there’s Buckskin Charley,

Beaver Dick and Yankee Jim!

Nez Percé Joseph’s flight and capture will fill each soul with rapture

In this camp of keen desire and pure delight.

Let them go, go, go, away from home!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Away! The trail is clear before you

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods mix their medicine again.

Photo by Jack Young
Young men camping in Yellowstone

When the mountain yarns cease flowing and the night is in the glowing, conversation wanes.

Then a sudden clap of thunder makes them huddle up the number to fend against the rains.

When the fleeting squalls are over and the clouds ride high and fair,

They will hear the lodgepole crackle and inhale the pine-sap air.

Then bacon scent and wood smoke will attract an eager bear,

He will grunt and sniff and gurgle as he wends nocturnal rounds.

As darkness dims youth’s vision, so sleep crowds out all sounds,

But the eerie detonation of the bull elk’s morning call

Will waken them from slumber by a singing water fall.

Hence, they go, go, go, away from here!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Carry on! The trail is clear before you

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods call for you!

Unto each the voice and vision, unto each his hunch and sign,

Lonely geyser in a basin, misty sweat bath ’neath a pine.

Unto each a lad who knows his naked soul!

Unto each a rainbow arching through a window in the sky,

While the blazoned, bird-winged butterflies flap by.

It is there that they are going to a region that they know,

Where the sign betrays the badger and the shaggy buffalo.

Where the trail runs out in breccia midst rock forests row on row.

It is there life glides serenely without conduct that’s unseemly,

In a land where thoughts and feelings overflow.

Quick! Ah, heave the camp kit over!

For the Red Gods call them forth and they must go.

Let them go, go, go, away from home!

On the summit of the world they’re overdue.

Farewell! The trail is clear before you

When the old spring fret comes o’er you,

And the Red Gods mix their medicine once more.

Appendix II
THE PROBLEM OF “COLTER’S ROUTE IN 1807”

It may seem unfruitful at this time to attempt a solution of the problem of John Colter’s 1807 route of discovery in Yellowstone. Many people require no proof of anything cited in the records of such great scouts as Jedediah S. Smith, Kit Carson, and John Colter. Their integrity need not be questioned. Still, it is within the province of the historian to sift and test all of the evidence until the truth falls into place as elements in a jigsaw puzzle. Even myths and legends should be examined for any implications and bearing they might have upon a fact. It is in this light that the following discussion of the Colter discovery problem is presented. This case is entirely hypothetical, since no specific reference to his route has been found anywhere among source material, except as it is approximated upon the Map of 1814.

Beyond the known facts of Colter’s journey in 1807, the Map of 1814, and the “Colter’s Hell” legend, there is a complete hiatus, or vacuum. However, the Map of 1814 is certainly a tangible thing; let it tell its own story: It is known that William Clark had a friend in Philadelphia named Nicholas Biddle who arranged for the publication of The Lewis and Clark Journals. In order to properly depict the journey, Mr. Biddle secured the services of a prominent Philadelphia cartographer named Samuel Lewis. Twice in 1810 Clark sent sheets of map material to Mr. Biddle.[352] John Colter reached St. Louis in May, 1810. It is certain that he called upon Clark and gave him information, if not sheets, depicting his famous journey of 1807. This data was undoubtedly sent on to Mr. Biddle, either as Colter drew it or as it was accurately redrawn by Clark. At least one of Colter’s sheets was incorporated in the final Map of 1814.[353] The first, or eastern prairie, side of the Colter plat traced his journey up Pryors Fork, about fifty miles west of Fort Manuel, through Pryors Gap. Then he crossed over to Clarks Fork, which he ascended, probably to Dead Indian Creek. From this creek Colter crossed over a divide to the North Fork Shoshone River where he first smelled sulphur. This he called Stinking Water River, most probably referring to the present De Maris Mineral Springs near Cody, Wyoming.

On Stinking Water River he encountered the “Yep-pe Band of Snake Indians 1000 souls.” This was evidently a clan of the Crow tribe. From these Yep-pe Indians, denizens of both prairie and mountain, he undoubtedly learned of the Yellowstone geysers and other marvels. This accounts for his side trip which brought him back to the Yep-pe camp. It is likely that some of these Indians directed Colter along another route in returning to Manuel’s Fort. Obviously they went down the North Fork Shoshone, or Colter’s Stinking Water River, to its junction with Shoshone River. This, he followed to Gap Creek (now Sage Creek) which he ascended to Pryors Gap.[354] By this alternate route Colter again reached Pryors Fork where he crossed over to return to Fort Manuel.

From this examination it is obvious that the western boundary of Colter’s first map lies east of 110° longitude, and up to that point no difficulty whatever is encountered with either the route or the map. This line undoubtedly defines the west border of Colter’s first sheet. It became a part of the Map of 1814 without change. Hence, it is a correct representation of the “Buffalo Bill country” around Cody, Wyoming. Published in 1814, it could only have been the work of John Colter, because no other white man had visited that area. Because of the accuracy of Colter’s first plat, or east portion of the map, his course to the Yep-pe Indian camp can be followed like tracks in the snow. Just so, the return route east of 110° can be identified as coming down Sunlight Creek and back up Dead Indian Creek to the Yep-pe Indian camp. From there he followed a shorter route, in returning to the eastern edge of the map sheet, that is to say, the head of Pryors Fork.

M. D. Beal
Yellowstone section of Colter’s route.

Logic and a reasonable sense of procedure would support this route as the trail of Colter’s Yellowstone Discovery. Conclusive proof is lacking.

Thus, it is evident that the eastern courses of Colter’s journey, both going and coming, are accurately depicted on the Map of 1814. East of 110° it is an accurate and authentic mapping of the area, just such a one as an intelligent trapper would make. Whatever is depicted corresponds to actual geography. It is factual, tangible, verifiable, and indisputable.

This part of the map proves that Colter did take an extended journey in a southwesterly direction, but it does not prove that he discovered Yellowstone Park. The dependable part of the map simply accounts for the eastern part of the figure eight which is essential to describe the complete journey.[355] The reliable part leads him only to the southeastern border of Yellowstone Park and brings him back from farther north along its eastern boundary.

The western portion of the dotted line on the Map of 1814 is purely fictitious and encompasses an area far beyond that occupied by Yellowstone Park. Indeed, this part of Colter’s route winds among a labyrinth of geographical unreality.[356] Therefore, Colter’s route, as represented by the western loop of the dotted line, is likewise invalid. Here, then, is the problem of Colter’s discovery: How could the map of his exploration, which necessarily described a figure eight, be at once so authentic in the east and so fictitious in the west? The Yellowstone area of the Map of 1814 is certainly one of organized confusion, but it does not follow that Colter drew that portion of the map as it appears.

Actual geography and common sense prove that a trapper on foot could not possibly have seen both the Arkansas and Platte rivers. Just as surely, geography and common sense attest that in traveling a normal western loop of the figure eight he would have seen precisely what the map does not depict, namely: Upper Yellowstone River, Snake River, Yellowstone Lake, and the thermal areas at Thumb of Lake and near Hayden Valley.

Thus, by elimination, an obvious conclusion evolves, namely that the western loop is not as Colter drew it. Instead of actuality, there is fiction; nothing in this part of the map conforms to reality. That geography only exists upon the Map of 1814. John Colter died in 1813 so he never even saw the route as depicted, to say nothing of traveling along it.

J. N. Barry
Western section of Colter’s route.

A true sketch of the Yellowstone Park area.

Fictitious geography depicted on the map of 1814. Note the complete incongruity between the real map and the guess map.

The failure of writers to recognize the fictitious character of this portion of the Map of 1814 has led to a comical performance. They have assigned to Colter the role of a human helicopter who hopped over mountains and valleys visiting the drainage basins of all the river systems within a radius of five hundred miles of the Yep-pe Indian village. First they trail him on Teton River, Big Sandy, Gros Ventre, and Greybull. Then they track him over South Pass, Teton Pass, and Union and Twogwotee passes. These authors have never trudged the wilds of which they write nor even measured them on a real map. Where, then, did Colter travel? The answer to that problem largely depends upon a rational interpretation of that fantastic map sheet. Perhaps an investigation of the process by which the map was produced will offer a clue.

As stated before, Clark sent map materials to Biddle, who in turn passed them on to Samuel Lewis, a professional cartographer, to be worked into a map of the Trans-Mississippi West. This was a very difficult assignment because the sheets were of various scales, which necessitated overlapping, crowding, and uncertainty as to latitudes and longitudes.[357] The manner in which Lewis fitted them into a mosaic represents a remarkable work of art. Deficiencies are largely attributable to the inadequate data received, but in the case of Colter’s journey another element is involved.

In the course of compilation, between 1810 and 1814, Clark must have sent a redrawing of the route of Colter’s journey.[358] By way of review, let it be remembered that Colter reached St. Louis in May of 1810. He called on Clark and evidently presented several sheets of trapper map to him. This was the material which depicted his journey of 1807, and it seemed to be highly appreciated by Clark. That it was given preference by Clark over the contemporary exploration of Zebulon M. Pike simply substantiates the belief that Colter’s journey made a profound impression upon Clark at that time.[359] On December 20, 1810, Clark apparently sent the original Colter sheets, or properly redrawn copies of them, to Nicholas Biddle. Clark also inserted, or superimposed, two rivers upon the Colter drawing. They were Clarks Fork and Bighorn rivers.

It is important to remember that Clark had full confidence in Colter’s representation of his journey at this time, that is, December, 1810. The following year Andrew Henry returned from his exploration of the Madison and Snake river regions. He had seen only ordinary country. This report seems to have destroyed Clark’s belief in Colter’s story of marvels. Not wishing to deceive anyone by the delusions of a deranged trapper’s mind, Clark apparently directed Samuel Lewis to retain Colter’s east plat, that is, the Buffalo Bill country, but suppress the western section, the Yellowstone Lake region. In lieu of Colter’s depiction of the western loop of his figure eight Clark evidently sent the draft that now appears on the Map of 1814.

What possible reason can be assigned for this action? It is anybody’s guess; no one can now determine what Clark thought, but following is a rational hypothesis: In the close of the year 1811, Andrew Henry and his men returned from their trapping venture in the Upper Snake River basin. They had skirted the western border of Wonderland along the line of the Madison and Gallatin rivers and explored the sources of Henrys Fork of the Snake River. Yet, Henry had not seen any hot springs, geysers, or great lakes. No doubt Henry had heard trappers joke about “Colter’s Hell.” Personally, he showed no confidence in it. Evidently both he and Clark considered that Henry’s and Colter’s journeys overlapped. Actually, the Gallatin Range intervened between them. It is reasonable, therefore, that Henry’s report and attitude affected Clark’s original belief in Colter’s story. Where he first believed he now doubted. Perhaps Clark concluded that Colter’s terrible experiences had deranged his mind. It is certain that Clark sent his new knowledge of the Henrys Fork country to Biddle in 1812 because it appears on the Map of 1814.[360] It was undoubtedly at this time that Clark sent in his redrawn, guesswork version of the western portion of Colter’s map. No one knows exactly what changes Clark made, but the Map of 1814 proves conclusively that Clark did not depict the “Colter’s Hell” country which contains the wonders of Yellowstone Park as it was originally presented to him.

It was a valid reaction for Clark to have become suspicious of Colter’s reliability, and the substitution of his own geographical speculation for Colter’s Yellowstone sketch was probably sincere. Clark was too honest to depict the delusions of an “insane” man. Also he was very anxious to have a reasonably complete and integrated map. The only alternatives were to allow the Colter marvel sheet to appear or else to mark a considerable area “unexplored.” He was caught in the bonds of uncertainty and made a compromise. The result was a sheet of bogus geography which is entirely incongruous, not only with the facts, but with Clark’s uniformly excellent map work.[361]

Clark’s choice of alternatives only complicated the problem of his cartographer. Lewis no doubt recognized the vast discrepancies between Colter’s genuine depiction and Clark’s counterfeit so he evidently decided upon a compromise of his own. How this expert reconciled the conflicting data of the two map sheets into one pattern is at once a masterpiece in cartography and psychology. The technique he adopted might be called “double entry map making.” He used the Yellowstone Lake part of Colter’s sketch as an element for a concealed map; it appears as a mountain range. Such a grotesque range cannot be found in any of the surrounding territory, but when visualized as a lake it is amazing how it conforms to what a trapper traveling a logical route would have seen of Yellowstone Lake, namely, the South Arm and Thumb. Lewis shied away from any clear-cut representation of the geyser region. However, besides including the disguised lake portion of Colter’s map, he did other things to “poke fun” at Clark’s speculations. He drew Lake Eustis in the manner of a gargoyle. It must have been deliberately “satanized.” Nothing with such a preposterous shape was ever known among men. Why didn’t Clark revolt at this representation? Surely he never drew anything like that himself. That is not all of Lewis’ “fun making.” He drew still another lake and gave it the shape of a deformed piece of liver. Its appearance is ridiculous in the other extreme,[362] but, as if to add insult to injury, Mr. Lewis raised a question as to this lake’s legitimacy. Clark named it Biddle in honor of his patron, Nicholas Biddle, whereas, upon the English version, the name appearing is Riddle! Lewis was able to “get away” with this performance because Clark did not see any proofs, only the published work.

J. N. Barry
“Double-entry” map of Yellowstone.

Samuel Lewis’ “Double-entry” map. An attempt to reconcile Colter’s draft of the Yellowstone country with Clark’s obvious assumptions.

When segregated these “concealed” elements give a logical representation of what Colter undoubtedly saw, namely the southwest arm and thumb of Yellowstone Lake.

Remembering that Samuel Lewis was employed to reproduce a map conforming to data and specifications furnished by Clark, what more could he do to manifest his skepticism, if not displeasure, over the incorporation of fictitious geography upon this super-important map of the West? Remember, Lewis was a professional cartographer; he had seen, and had already drawn, Colter’s sheet of real country. On the original draft the southwest Arm and Thumb of Lake Yellowstone undoubtedly appeared. Now he was asked to redraw it into counterfeit geography. Disturbed by the substitution of Clark’s sheet of “Gulliver’s geography” for Colter’s journey, he disguised a lake in a mountain range, drew a gargoylian lake (Eustis), and raised the enigma of Biddle-Riddle.[363] After all, cartography is simply a scientific refinement of pictography, or storytelling. The message of Samuel Lewis, as revealed in the Yellowstone segment of the Map of 1814, might reasonably be: “This portion of the map is bogus. I do not know what the true conditions are. Colter’s data appears all right; Clark’s later information says it isn’t. It’s all a Riddle; I leave a clue.” Against this background, with the fiction cut away, it may now be possible to explore the problem of Colter’s route through the Yellowstone country.

Did Colter make a western loop trip beyond the Yep-pe Indian camp? Of that there can be no doubt. Clark’s representation does not impugn Colter’s word in respect to the reality of the journey itself but only as to where he went and what he saw. If an approximation of his route can be reproduced, the question of what he saw will automatically fall into place like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The problem, then, is to correctly reconstruct the west loop of the figure eight. This procedure has become possible by reason of the proposition that has been established in this discussion, particularly when it is remembered that Colter knew his way around and could be relied upon to make a proper orientation to the total environment. Now his course can be followed by segregating another feature from what has been referred to as “Lewis’ Concealed Colter Map.”

J. N. Barry
A section of fictitious geography.

A larger section of the Map of 1814 showing Samuel Lewis’ ingenious combination of Colter’s data, Clark’s guesses and the Cartographer’s own obvious design to pose a gumption test for students of Western geographic exploration.

West of longitude 110° it will be noted that two features stand out in bold relief, namely, a mitten-shaped mountain labeled FOSSIL (probably the Trident) and the crude outline of South Arm and Thumb of Yellowstone Lake. These two landmarks may be used as guide posts in following Colter’s reconstructed loop through Yellowstone. Colter’s authentic east loop journey, already described, brought him approximately to the 110° meridian. Colter’s mitten-shaped landmark lies about seventy-five miles due west of the border on his second map sheet, but Clark’s dotted line depicts Colter’s route fifty miles south of the mountain shaped like a mitten and marked FOSSIL. It is valid to inquire how Colter could discern its shape or know of its fossils from that distance. His Indian friends knew nothing about fossils. The dotted line does not cross or even skirt this mountain. To reach the “Fossil Mountain” from Salt Fork, Colter could ascend by Elk-Wapiti or Fishhawk creeks. Each meets the requirements of direction and distance, and there is a good chance that somewhere along one of these routes a large petrified fish, or something like a fish, was seen then and may be eventually found. Such a discovery would remove all doubt about the direction in which he traveled.[364]

Western section of Coulter’s route.

Logic and a reasonable sense of procedure would support this route as the trail of Coulter’s Yellowstone discovery. Conclusive proof is lacking.

From the “Fossil Mountain” Colter probably descended Pass Creek to Thorofare Creek, which he followed to the Upper Yellowstone River. Then he might have ascended either Falcon, Lynx, or Atlantic creeks, preferably the latter, to Two Ocean Pass. Crossing the Continental Divide, he would then descend Pacific Creek, skirting Big Game Ridge, and cross the South Fork of Snake River, within the present confines of the Park. Thence he could go along Chicken Ridge, from where he would frequently view South Arm, headed toward Flat Mountain Arm. After crossing Solution Creek he would strike West Thumb.[365] The validity of this itinerary is wholly sustained by the genuine features of this area as they appear upon the Map of 1814. Indeed, the route seems obvious and indisputable in view of the actual conditions existing. On a crude map, where there are numerous, similar streams, various combinations are, of course, possible.

Leaving West Thumb, Colter would have circled the lake to its outlet and followed it to the Hayden Valley thermal area. Dragons Mouth and Mud Volcano were undoubtedly features that contributed to the vivid impression he carried away and transmitted to others. Even the “Hot Spring Brimstone” characterization on the Map of 1814 mildly suggests explosive thermal activity. The phrase also suggests that Colter mapped a geyser basin.[366]

Colter’s return route from the area near the outlet of Yellowstone River supplies the final link in the figure eight. To reach the Yep-pe Indian camp he might have veered to the northeast, crossed Yellowstone River at the ford below Mud Volcano, and ascended Pelican Creek or one of the tributaries of the Lamar River. After crossing the Absarokas he evidently descended one of the creeks that empty into Clarks Fork. No one on earth can be certain about this part of his journey. There is no reference anywhere, and the Map of 1814 gives no clue. Still he did reach a tributary of Clarks Fork which he followed to its junction with Dead Indian Creek, thence to the Yep-pe band.