Brother Van

by Stella Wyatt Brummitt

In continuing his search for a place in which to hold worship, William learned that a Roman Catholic priest, Father Van Gorp, was conducting a service in a saloon near by. He sought him out and was received cordially. On hearing the desire of the newcomer, the priestassured him that he could have the room as soon as his service was concluded, for he intended to take passage on a boat which was to leave the Fort in a few hours.

It was at that afternoon meeting of his first day in Fort Benton that William Van Orsdel received the name of Brother Van. There was a frankness and kindness in the young man’s manner toward these strangers before him. The years of unselfish service for others, and his conviction regarding the work he must do in the West had developed a magnetic personality. The rough and hearty frontier people were keen judges of character. They saw at once in the stranger, who had come among them so naturally and courageously, a sincere, helpful spirit. “Brother” was just the word that described him. “Van” was as much of that lengthy and dignified name of his as they felt that they could take the trouble to say. So, with the good-natured bluntness of the West, “Brother Van” he became. It now rarely occurs to any of his friends and neighbors that he has any other name. They would probably assure you, if you were to raise thequestion with them, that he was christened “Brother Van.”

Crowded in the saloon on that afternoon were the steamboat officers, roustabouts, freighters, cowboys, Indians, and settlers, making a strange audience for the young missionary’s first Montana sermon. He would talk for a while, and then, when the attention wavered, he would sing the songs that some of them had heard back East before they had come under the hardening influences of the rough western life. Brother Van asked if they would like an evening service and received an eager request for one. The news of the arrival of this tenderfoot and of his message and singing had traveled fast; so in the evening a larger congregation gathered. Again he gave the message that many of them had been missing in a long period of separation from church life, and again hearts were stirred, as for the first time in years the uncertain voices tried to follow the singing of the gospel songs which had been sung “back home.”

There is no written record of the sermons of that day; but the simple, straightforwardmanner of the preacher made a lasting impression on the hearts of that strange crowd. The missionary spirit of the zealous youth so won the respect of the cowboys that they withheld from this tenderfoot the “initiation” which they were accustomed to give to strangers. Brother Van was a vigorous youth with a florid complexion and light hair. The simple directness of his manner and the good humor showing in his blue eyes, so ready to twinkle with fun, gained fast friends for him in the odd mixture of peoples.

While the Far West was in port, Captain Coulson extended the hospitality of the boat to his missionary passenger, though his obligations had really ceased when he reached the town. When the boat started back down the river, carrying the only people whom he knew, pangs of homesickness came to the lonely youth; now he felt himself truly a stranger in a strange land. But a new friend appeared. A good woman who had been at the service on Sunday opened her home to him, and established that night an “institution” which gradually extended throughout the state of Montana,“Brother Van’s room.” Even in the newest town where a beginning was just being made, there was always some home in which a place was set apart to receive the welcome traveler whenever he could come that way.

RUINS OF HISTORIC FORT BENTON, WHERE BROTHER VAN ATE JERKED BUFFALO MEAT AND HEARD TALES OF INDIAN WARFARE

On the Monday following that eventful Sabbath, Brother Van set out to explore the town. The central interest of Fort Benton was its fur trading. This industry was developed in the United States by the enterprise of John Jacob Astor. He saw that Canada was profiting by this trade, and in 1812 he petitioned Congress to establish fur trading posts within the boundaries of the United States, and to introduce such goods as were necessary for bartering with the Indians.

Trading posts soon began to dot the vast wilderness of the North and West. They were all built on the same general plan. A heavy stockade was made by driving tree trunks into the earth so close together as to make a wall, the only opening left being a massive double gate. In one of the sections of this gate was a small door through which in times of danger the trader could admit a single person at atime. He could open it and talk with any Indian who came, without allowing the visitor to enter. Within the outer stockade was an open space; then in the center was a strongly built log or adobe structure containing the trader’s quarters, storeroom, and the fort. In the wall of the storeroom was an opening about eighteen inches square. This was called the “trading hole” and was protected by heavy shutters controlled from the inside.

When the Indians came with their packs of furs the trader’s men met them outside the stockade, and took from them all guns, bows, arrows, tomahawks, and any other dangerous weapons which they might be carrying. Then, in a group at a time, they were admitted to the stockade and the heavy gates locked behind them. They were virtually prisoners, and advancing across the open space between the stockade and the fort, they would come to the trading hole, where the agent of the fur merchant’s company was waiting to barter with them.