M. Mark Miller, Author

Author: mmarkmiller

  • An Event: Seeing My Name in Lights

    As I walked up the sidewalk last night carrying my laptop and a box of books, I saw it: My Name In Lights.  There in front of MSU’s Music Building was a sign beckoning to passersby in flashing red electric letters:

    Tonight at Reynolds Recital Hall

    Author Mark Miller

    “Bozeman to Wonderland: Early Trips to Yellowstone”

    I guess that makes it official.  I’m an author.

    I went into the recital hall where a technician helped me set up my computer and rigged me with a microphone.  Then I headed to the lobby for the reception.  I was able greet friends and introduce myself to new people, but mostly I just paced about and fretted about my presentation.

    After people filed into the auditorium, the Dean of the College of Art and Architecture introduced me.  Then magic happened.  I had an opportunity to talk about a topic I love — and an attentive audience.

    They chuckled when I said my family took a cow with them to Yellowstone in 1909 so they could have fresh milk for the children.

    They squirmed in their seats when I read them William Bradbury’s account of Colter’s Run when the blood soaked mountain man dived under a raft of driftwood to hide from dozens of murderous Blackfoot warriors who were chasing him.

    They listened intently when I read a brand new chapter from my next book that describes Emma Cowan’s heroic ride by team and wagon for 175 miles in 31 hours to be at the side of her wounded husband. And they sighed when I read the description of Emma’s reunion with him as “Joy too sacred for public perusal.”

    All too soon my time was up.  I basked in the warmth of polite applause. I answered insightful questions.  Then I signed copies of  Adventures in Yellowstone.

    ∞§∞

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  • An Event: Final Touches for My Fine Arts Presentation

    I’ve been working hard to put the final touches on my presentation Thursday to the President’s Fine Arts Series of the Montana State University.  My title is “Bozeman to Wonderland: Early Trips to Yellowstone Park.”

    I think of myself more as a collector and teller of stories than as a historian. With that in mind, I’ve picked stories with a Bozeman connection that exemplify different Yellowstone experiences.  I’ll put them in context and read excerpts — either from first-person accounts that I’ve collected, or from my own writing.

    My outline looks like this:

    An introduction explaining my interest in early travel to Yellowstone Park with stories my grandmother used to tell about her trip there in 1909 and her grandfather’s trip in 1882.

    The Mountain Man Era with an excerpt from William Bradbury’s account of Colter’s Run in 1807, when Indians stripped a trapper naked and ordered him to run for his life.

    The Prospectors Era when treasure hunters rushed past Yellowstone’s wonders to scour every gully and gulch for gold.

    The Era of Exploration when prominent citizens set out to confirm fantastic reports of the wonders of the upper Yellowstone with excerpts from Truman Everts chilling story of being alone in the Yellowstone wilderness for 37 days.

    First Tourists when Montana pioneers set out to see the wonders for themselves with stories about Emma Stone, a Bozeman matron who was the first woman to take a complete tour of the park in 1872, and Sarah Tracy (Bozeman’s Tracy Avenue is named for her husband), who left a marvelous reminiscence of her trip to the park in 1874.

    War in Wonderland 1877 when the Nez Perce Indians left their homelands in Idaho and Washington and fled through Yellowstone Park.  I’ll read a chapter from my next book telling about Emma Cowan’s 31-hour ride with a team and wagon to join her husband when she learned he had survived after an Indian shot him point blank in the head.

    Conclusion and Time for Questions.

    The presentation will be at the Reynolds Recital Hall on the MSU Campus.  It begin with a pre-event reception at 6:30.

    It is free to the public.

  • A Tale: Hour Spring, A Geyser by Another Name — c. 1834

    Rustic Geyser, Heart Lake Geyser Basin

    In the decade between 1834 and 1843, a trapper named Osborne Russell kept a journal describing his adventures in the frontier northwest. Russell’s journal provides one of the earliest written accounts of travel to the upper Yellowstone. Here’s his description of hot springs and geysers in a now extinct geothermal area.

    ∞§∞

    The next day we traveled along the border of the lake till we came to the northwest extremity, where we found about 50 springs of boiling hot water. We stopped here some hours as one of my comrades had visited this spot the year previous he wished to show us some curiosities.

    The first spring we visited was about ten feet in diameter, which threw up mud with a noise similar to boiling soap. Close about this were numerous similar to it throwing up the hot mud and water five or six feet high. About thirty or forty paces from these along the side of a small ridge the hot steam rushed forth from holes in the ground with a hissing noise which could be heard a mile distant.

    On a near approach we could hear the water bubbling under ground some distance from the surface. The sound of our footsteps over this place was like thumping over a hollow vessel of immense size. In many places were peaks from two to six feet high formed of limestone, deposited by the boiling water, which appeared of snowy whiteness. The water when cold is perfectly sweet except having a fresh limestone taste.

    After surveying these natural wonders for sometime, my comrade conducted me to what he called the “Hour Spring.” At this spring the first thing that attracts the attention is a hole about 15 inches in diameter in which the water is boiling slowly about 4 inches below the surface. At length it begins to boil and bubble violently and the water commences raising and shooting upwards until the column arises to the height of sixty feet. It falls to the ground in drops on a circle of about 30 feet in diameter being perfectly cold when it strikes the ground.

    It continues shooting up in this manner five or six minutes and then sinks back to its former state of slowly boiling for an hour — and then shoots forth as before. My comrade said he had watched the motions of this spring for one whole day and part of the night the year previous and found no irregularity whatever in its movements.

    ∞§∞

    — Photo, Coppermine Photo Galley

    — From Osborn Russell, Journal of a Trapper, Syms-York Company, Boise, Idaho, 1921. Pages 99-100.

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  • Paul Schullery Comments on the General’s Fishing Tackle

    My friend, Paul Schullery, who Trout magazine calls America’s “preeminent angling historian,”  was kind enough to offer a comment on my post of General W.E. Strong’s story, “The Rod Bent Nearly Double.” I thought it deserved to be featured as a guest article.

    ∞§∞

    Strong’s accounts of the fishing that he and his companions enjoyed are interesting to historians for several reasons.

    The tackle is of interest because fashionable and well-heeled anglers of the mid-1870s were experiencing a revolution in their choice of gear, as the traditional (and often very large) solid-wood rods that had dominated the sport of fly fishing for centuries were being replaced by far lighter but often stiffer split-bamboo rods. Bamboo rods of this sort were expensive but very effective for distance- and precision-casting. Strong may have had some of those in his rod case, as it sounds like he had several rods.

    He was certainly in the majority in recognizing the importance of grasshoppers to the tastes of western trout. Though the British had been experimenting with some grasshopper imitations for centuries, the American grasshoppers were a considerably different and often much larger set of animals, and in the 1870s American anglers were just beginning to develop fly pattens that would work as well as the natural insects that Strong and his companions finally resorted to when their favorite artificial trout flies didn’t work. It would be several decades before American fly tiers developed floating grasshopper imitations that were consistent in catching fish when there were lots of natural grasshoppers competing for the trout’s attention.

    But Strong’s most interesting details may be about the trout itself.  No doubt his relatively light tackle, which included a silkworm gut leader that may not have been strong enough to horse a big fish in heavy water, had an effect on his handling of this fish. But by the mid-1900s, Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout would be widely regarded as the least sporting of the trout, in that they were typically thought of as the easiest to hook and the least strong as fighters. At least that was the prevailing stereotype; many of us have seen that same species of trout display great selectivity in feeding, and great strength in resisting capture once hooked. But for a Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout to jump clear of the water, repeatedly, would seem like an oddity to most modern anglers; at least I rarely have seen it or heard of it, and any number of respected authorities have said that they don’t jump. For whatever combination of evolutionary reasons, the species stereotypically does not feature jumping among its usual escape  tactics. But there are exceptions to every rule; I’ve heard or read that brown trout don’t jump, either, but I’ve seen them do so many times. What Strong’s account gives us is lots to think about as far as how well we know these fish; he tells us to be careful about our generalizations.

    ∞§∞

    — For more stories about fishing in Yellowstone Park, click on “fishing” under the “Categories” button on the right.

  • A Tale: “The Rod Bent Nearly Double,” General W. E. Strong — 1875

    One of the most luxurious early trips to Yellowstone Park was led by President U.S. Grant’s Secretary of War, General William Belknap. In 1875, Belknap was joined by four other Generals including W.E. Strong, who provide an account of the trip.

    The Generals crossed the country in a plush Pullman car smoking cigars, drinking whisky, and telling stories, on the new transcontinental railroad. Then they rode in a special stagecoach that traveled at breakneck speed from Utah to Montana.

    Along the way they were feted with banquets, parties and parades. In Bozeman a Silver Coronet Band greeted them at the edge of town and escorted them through the city to Fort Ellis.

    At Fort Ellis they were provided with an escort of active duty soldiers led by Gustavus Doane, who had commanded the escort of the Washburn Expedition in 1870.

    Each General was assigned an orderly to take care of his every whim: packing his personal belongings, putting up his tent, rolling out his bed roll, digging his latrine, and cleaning any fish he caught. All at army expense, of course. A year later the U.S. Senate impeached General Belknap for taking bribes.

    General Strong eloquently describes the wonders of Yellowstone—falls, hot springs and geysers, and describes the people he met—mountain men, stagecoach drivers, and towns people. Most of all, he revels in telling exciting tales of hunting elk, stampeding buffalo, and catching fish. Here’s his description of fishing.

    ∞§∞

    Again I threw my hook in the swift water, and down the stream it went like lightning, tossing about like a feather in the rapid. My reel whirled and spun like a buzz saw, the line went out so fast.

    I never touched the reel to check the running line till seventy-five feet, at least, was in the water. Then I pressed my thumb firmly upon it and drew gently back the rod. At the same instant something struck my hook that nearly carried me off my feet. I had to let go the reel to save the rod.

    I had him securely hooked, but could I land him? That was the question. I gave him twenty-five or thirty feet more line—then checked again and tried to hold him—but it was no use, the rod bent nearly double, and I had to let him run.

    My line was one hundred and fifty feet in length, and I knew when it was all out, if the fish kept in the rapids, I should lose him. No tackle like mine could stand for a moment against the strength of such a fish as I had struck in such swift water.

    I therefore continued to give him the line—but no faster than I was forced to.   No more than twelve or fifteen feet remained on the reel. Fortunately for me, he turned to the left and was carried into an eddy which swept him into more quiet water near the shore.

    Twice in his straight run down the rapid current of the stream he leaped clear from the water. I saw he was immense—something double or triple the size of any trout I had ever caught. The excitement to me was greater than anything I had ever experienced.

    No one but a trout fisherman can understand or appreciate the intense pleasure of a single run. I was crazy to kill and land him, and yet I knew the chances were against it. Again and Again I reeled him within twenty-five or thirty feet of the rock. But he was game to the last, and would dart off with the same strength as when he first struck. I had to let him go.

    Finally, he showed signs of exhaustion. I managed to get him to top the water, and then worked him in close to the sore. Flynn was waiting to take the line and throw him out, as I had no landing net. Flynn did it very well. When the trout was very near the bank and quiet, he lifted him out.

    He was a fine specimen, and would weigh four pounds if he weighed an ounce.   This trout was three times the size I had ever caught. At 4:30 o’clock I stopped fishing having landed thirty-five trout which would have run from two and a half to four pounds in weight—none less than two and one half pounds.

    ∞§∞

    — See Paul Schulery’s comments on General Strong’s fishing tackle.

    — For more stories about fishing in Yellowstone Park, click on “fishing” under the “Categories” button on the right.

    — From W.E. Strong, A Trip to the Yellowstone National Park in July, August, and September, 1875.

    — Photo from Paul Schullery, Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

  • News: Meet Me Next Summer in Geyserland

    Old Faithful Geyser, 1920

    I just arranged two events to promote my book, Adventures in Yellowstone: Early Travelers Tell Their Tales, in the lobby of Old Faithful Inn.

    I’ll be doing book signings there on July 23-24, and Aug. 20-21 between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m.  Also, I’m trying to arrange readings on those dates in smaller rooms off the lobby.  That would be great fun.

    So if you’re going to visit Yellowstone National Park this summer, plan to stop by historic Old Faithful Inn.  I’d love to sign a book for you.

    You can read about my book signing at the Inn in 2010 here and here.

    ∞§∞

    — F. J. Haynes postcard, Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

  • What’s a story? It helps to know what you’re looking for:

    Helena Daily Herald, Sept. 30, 1870

    Last week, I promised I would explain how I find the stories I post on this blog. The first step is defining what I look for.

    Most of the stories I post come from the collection of first-person accounts of travel to Yellowstone Park that I assembled for my presentations under the auspices of the Humanities Montana Speakers Bureau.

    In my promotional materials, I promised to bring travelers’ experiences to life using their own words. I soon figured out I could read four or five excerpts of three hundred to a thousand words in an hour presentation. That meant I had to be very selective as I went through my files.

    At first I “just followed my nose,” that is, I read and noted things I found fun or exciting, then excerpted and edited selections for presentation.

    My collection grew into dozens. There was just too much good stuff. How could I choose just four or five tales? My solution was to tailor each presentation to its audience. When I presented to women’s groups, I focused on stories by women. When I presented in Billings, I included stories by people who lived there. But, an account written by a person who lives in Billings, isn’t necessarily interesting to a Billings resident. It needs to be a story.

    So, what is a story?  I found an answer in Jon Franklin’s wonderful book, Writing for Story: Craft Secrets of Dramatic Nonfiction.

    Franklin, a Pulitzer Prize winning writer and teacher, emphasizes the “complication-resolution” structure of stories.  He says a story is a description of what happens when a person encounters a situation that demands a response.

    That situation can be the high adventure of life-threatening danger as in “Colter’s Run”.

    Or the need for quick thinking to protect another person as in “Colonel Picket Gets His Bear”.

    Or the humor evoked by the need to get even with a supercilious twit as in “Maud Gets Her Revenge”.

    With the complication-resolution definition of a story, it’s not hard to recognize one when you see it. But that doesn’t mean finding stories is easy. In fact, most accounts of Yellowstone travel in my collection contain nothing but banal descriptions of one sight after another. But I slog through them anyway. You never can tell where you’re going to find a nugget.

    I found one of my favorite stories, “A Million Billion Barrels of Hot Water” after slogging through more than 40 boring pages.

    ∞§∞

    — Next topic: “Sometimes the best stories are the worst history: Differences between journals, articles and reminiscences.”

    — Clipping adapted from the Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

  • What’s a story? It helps to know what you’re looking for:

    Helena Daily Herald, Sept. 30, 1870

    Last week, I promised I would explain how I find the stories I post on this blog. The first step is defining what I look for.

    Most of the stories I post come from the collection of first-person accounts of travel to Yellowstone Park that I assembled for my presentations under the auspices of the Humanities Montana Speakers Bureau.

    In my promotional materials, I promised to bring travelers’ experiences to life using their own words. I soon figured out I could read four or five excerpts of three hundred to a thousand words in an hour presentation. That meant I had to be very selective as I went through my files.

    At first I “just followed my nose,” that is, I read and noted things I found fun or exciting, then excerpted and edited selections for presentation.

    My collection grew into dozens. There was just too much good stuff. How could I choose just four or five tales? My solution was to tailor each presentation to its audience. When I presented to women’s groups, I focused on stories by women. When I presented in Billings, I included stories by people who lived there. But, an account written by a person who lives in Billings, isn’t necessarily interesting to a Billings resident. It needs to be a story.

    So, what is a story?  I found an answer in Jon Franklin’s wonderful book, Writing for Story: Craft Secrets of Dramatic Nonfiction.

    Franklin, a Pulitzer Prize winning writer and teacher, emphasizes the “complication-resolution” structure of stories.  He says a story is a description of what happens when a person encounters a situation that demands a response.

    That situation can be the high adventure of life-threatening danger as in “Colter’s Run”.

    Or the need for quick thinking to protect another person as in “Colonel Picket Gets His Bear”.

    Or the humor evoked by the need to get even with a supercilious twit as in “Maud Gets Her Revenge”.

    With the complication-resolution definition of a story, it’s not hard to recognize one when you see it. But that doesn’t mean finding stories is easy. In fact, most accounts of Yellowstone travel in my collection contain nothing but banal descriptions of one sight after another. But I slog through them anyway. You never can tell where you’re going to find a nugget.

    I found one of my favorite stories, “A Million Billion Barrels of Hot Water” after slogging through more than 40 boring pages.

    ∞§∞

    — Next topic: “Sometimes the best stories are the worst history: Differences between journals, articles and reminiscences.”

    — Clipping adapted from the Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

  • A Tale: “Into the Scalding Morass,” Langford — 1870

    After the 1862 gold strike in Bannack, Montana, prospectors scoured every canyon and gully looking for pay dirt. That included the region that would become Yellowstone National Park.

    These men told about the wonders they had seen—mountains of glass, towering waterfalls, and fountains of boiling water, but, at first, people dismissed their reports as tall tales. Soon it became clear that there really were marvelous things in the area, so a group of government officials and businessmen decided to mount an expedition to document them. The result was the famous Washburn Expedition of 1870.

    Of course, documenting the wonders included gathering specimens—task that could be downright dangerous. Here’s a description of just how dangerous it could be, written by one of the expedition’s principle chroniclers, Nathaniel P. Langford.

    ∞§∞

    Washburn and I passed over a low divide, which, I think, must be the main range of the Rocky Mountains. Just beyond is another brimstone basin containing forty or fifty boiling sulphur and mud springs. A small creek runs through the basin—and the slopes of the mountains on either side showed unmistakable signs of volcanic action beneath the crust.

    A considerable portion of the slope of the mountain was covered with a hollow incrustation of sulphur, lime, or silica, from which issued in many places hot steam. We found many small craters from six to twelve inches in diameter —  from which issued the sound of the boiling sulphur or mud. In many instances we could see the mud or sulphur water.

    The water was too hot for us to bear the hand more than two or three seconds.  It had overflowed the green spaces between the incrustations, completely saturating the ground. In many places the grass had grown—forming a turf compact and solid enough to bear the weight of a man ordinarily. But when it gave way the underlying deposit was so thin that it afforded no support.

    While crossing one of these green places, my horse broke through—and sank to his body as if in a bed of quicksand.  I was off his back in an instant and succeeded in extricating the struggling animal.  The fore legs of my horse, however, had gone through the turf into the hot, thin mud beneath.

    General Washburn was a few yards behind me on an incrusted mound of lime and sulphur, which bore us in all cases. He had just before called to me to keep off the grassy place.  Now he inquired of me if the deposit beneath the turf was hot. Without making examination I answered that I thought it might be warm.

    Shortly afterwards the turf again gave way—and my horse plunged more violently than before, throwing me over his head. As I fell, my right arm was thrust violently through the treacherous surface into the scalding morass. It was with difficulty that I rescued my poor horse—and I found it necessary to instantly remove my glove to avoid blistering my hand.

    The frenzied floundering of my horse had in the first instance suggested to General Washburn the idea that the under stratum was hot enough to scald him. General Washburn was right in his conjecture. It is a fortunate circumstance that I today rode my light-weight pack horse. If I had ridden my heavy saddle horse, I think that the additional weight of his body would have broken the turf—and that he would have disappeared in the hot boiling mud—taking me with him.

    ∞§∞

    — Text and ilustration from Langford’s book, The Discovery of Yellowstone Park, 1870.

    — You can read a condensed version of Langford’s The Discovery of Yellowstone Park in my book, Adventures in Yellowstone.

    — To see more stories by this author, click on “Langford” under the “Categories” button to the left.

    — For more stories about the Washburn Expedition, click on “Washburn” under the “Categories” button to the left.

  • First Women: Mary Wylie Crosses Yellowstone Park in a Covered Wagon — 1880

    In 1880, Mary Wylie crossed Yellowstone Park as a member of the first tourist party to use a wheeled conveyance for this trip. She went from Mammoth Hot Springs to the Lower Geyser Basin in a covered wagon.

    Mary came to Montana from Iowa in 1879 with her children. Her husband, William Wallace Wylie, had arrived in Montana the year before to become Bozeman’s first school superintendent.

    Mr. Wylie came west in 1878 on the Union Pacific transcontinental railroad to Corinne, Utah, and then took a stagecoach 400 miles north. When Mary and the children took the same trip a year later, they came north on the Utah and Northern Railroad to the Montana border and traveled about 200 miles by stage from there to Bozeman.

    Mr. Wylie left his mark on Yellowstone Park history as a lecturer, interpreter, and inventor of “permanent camps.” After he did a lecture tour across the nation, school teachers began asking him to guide them into the park. He said this “accidentally” launched him into the tourist business.

    In 1893, he founded the Wylie Permanent Camping Company, which specialized in tours of the park where guests stayed in tents left up for a full season. His moderately priced tours provided competition to the more expensive hotel tours and opened the park to middle class tourists.

    Wylie first visited the park in the spring of 1880. When he learned that Park Superintendent P. W. Norris was building the first road across the park and was going to have it finished by August, Wylie resolved to show his wife the wonders of Yellowstone Park.

    He returned to Bozeman, bought a lumber wagon and rigged it with an emigrant cover. He then assembled a nine-person party that included Mary and two of their children, a woman friend of Mary’s, and three men.

    The party met a couple with a spring wagon at Mammoth who went with them on their tour. This proved to be a good arrangement because the travelers often had to hitch both of their teams to a single wagon to get up steep hills and through rough country.

    Superintendent Norris’s new road was extremely rough. Sometimes tree stumps were too tall to let the wagons pass. When the wagons got stuck, the party had to hitch a team to the back of the wagon and pull it back so they could cut the stump lower. This made travel extremely slow. It took more than a week to travel from Mammoth to the Lower Geyser Basin.

    It was the first time tourists made the trip in wheeled conveyances. Wylie said this fact helped him get licenses to set up his tourists business in the park.

    A few weeks after Mary Wylie crossed the park beginning at Mammoth Hot Springs, Carrie Strahorn and her husband traversed Norris’s new road starting at the other end.  But after starting from the Lower Geyser Basin in a wagon, the Strahorns decided the road was too rough, and continued on horseback.

    Mary’s trip by covered wagon must have been quite an adventure. It’s too bad she didn’t leave a written account of it.

    ∞§∞

    — Photo from Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

    — You also might enjoy Carrie Strahorn’s story about traveling Norris’s new road in 1880 and encountering a winter storm.

    — For related stories, look at “First Women in Yellowstone” under the Categories button to the upper left of this page.