Mines of Idaho & Montana
(By Emerson Hough in 1918)
The echoes of the past often fade into silence, leaving countless historical narratives forever untold. In the early days of Idaho’s mining camps, only fragments of stories have survived, offering fleeting glimpses into a turbulent era. The miners, a restless and ever-shifting tide, swept across the Sierra Nevada, the Cascade Mountains, and northward into the Selkirk range, before turning back towards the Rocky Mountains. They followed the well-trodden paths of traders and trappers, surging through mountain ranges, only to converge upon themselves. Driven by the lure of gold, they pushed eastward, meeting the westward expansion of the railroads. These men, consumed by the pursuit of fortune, cared little for history and even less for the structured society they had left behind. The saga of this chaotic era, where conventional values were overturned and life was redefined by the promise of riches, initially lacked a chronicler. The narrative survives through hearsay, a collection of stories that sometimes contradict each other.
Driven by an insatiable hunger for treasure, the prospectors who had previously toiled in the California mines were a restless and ungovernable lot. They believed that gold might be found elsewhere, and rumors of strikes to the north ignited a wild stampede toward the mountains of Oregon and Washington. Driven by the dream of instant wealth, they were eager to once again engage in the glorious gamble, where a single strike of the pick could liberate them from the constraints of ordinary life.
The Mines of Idaho & Montana became magnets for a flood of gold-seekers, pushing north into the Fraser River country, south into Oregon and Washington, and across the vast desert plains into Nevada and Idaho. These movements created new centers of frenzied activity, like Oro Fino, Florence, and Carson. Walla Walla and Lewiston, serving as crucial outfitting points on the western side of the mountain range, gained prominence on the maps of the land, rudimentary as they were.
These adventurers, now heading east rather than west, faced the imposing mountain ranges that had previously tested the resolve of even the stoic explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Yet, both prospectors and pack trains managed to penetrate the formidable Salmon River Range. Oro Fino, Idaho, was already a well-established camp by 1861. Soon, significant discoveries would be made near Florence. There, the resilient packers from the West conquered immense obstacles, bringing in essential supplies like whiskey, women, pianos, food, and mining tools. Of course, these items commanded exorbitant prices. But the source of wealth was underfoot. With a stroke of the pick, the superhuman miner could transcend time. It’s no wonder that delirium reigned.
The news of these developments spread far and wide, reaching the Mississippi Valley and beyond. As word of the Mines of Idaho & Montana reached the East, countless hopefuls hurried to reach a land reputed to be as rich as California, but closer to home. As the bull trains arrived from the East, coming from the head of navigation on the Missouri River, the western outfitting points of Walla Walla and Lewiston began to lose their prominence.
South of the Idaho camps, a similar drama was unfolding. Nevada attracted a portion of the restless men from the stampedes. Carson, during its brief heyday (1859-60), resembled the other boomtowns. Its inhabitants came from various directions, some from the upper fields, others from the East via the old Santa Fe Trail, and still others drifting in from California.
All the camps shared a similar blueprint: a haphazard collection of log cabins or rough huts, a few so-called stores (sometimes made of logs, or, if a sawmill was nearby, of roughly sawn boards), several saloons, each typically including a dance hall, and a cluster of cabins where individual men lived, doing their own cooking and washing. Surrounding these dwellings was the upturned earth, a testament to the relentless search for gold. Such were the camps that dotted the landscape, marking the paths of the stampedes across the harsh deserts and mountain ranges. Churches and schools were nonexistent. Law and order were absent, reflecting the lack of organized society. The women who lived there were, for the most part, not worthy of the name. The men, dressed in the casual attire of the camp, sometimes without waistcoats, sometimes coatless, wore heavy boots and were always armed.
Considering the factors that shaped the history of the mining camp, one often-overlooked element stands out: the invention of Colt’s revolving pistol. Though relatively new during the Civil War, this weapon became widely used throughout the frontier before the advent of modern ammunition.
The six-shooter of the placer days was the old cap-and-ball type, heavy, long-barreled, and usually wooden-handled. The widespread ownership of these deadly weapons contributed to the rampant bloodshed in the camps. While a revolver in the hands of a novice was not particularly effective, it became a lethal tool in the hands of an expert. Such a man, possessing quick reflexes, skill, and accuracy honed through long practice, became a formidable and, for a time, an unconquerable adversary.
Interestingly, the great Montana fields were discovered twice – first by men traveling east from California, and then by men heading west in search of new goldfields. The initial discovery of gold in Montana occurred on Gold Creek, thanks to a half-breed trapper named Francois, better known as Be-net-see. This happened in 1852, but the news remained largely dormant, understandably so, given the limited access to that wild and unknown region. In 1857, a group of miners returning east from California along the Big Hole River decided to investigate the reports of the Gold Creek discovery. James and Granville Stuart led this party, which included Jake Meeks, Robert Hereford, Robert Dempsey, John W. Powell, John M. Jacobs, and Thomas Adams. These men worked on Gold Creek in 1858 but apparently did not find significant riches, leading them to withdraw to Fort Bridger in Wyoming until the autumn of 1860. Then, a prospector named Tom Golddigger arrived at Bridger with more stories of creeks to the north, prompting a gradual return toward Gold Creek and other gulches. This prospector had explored Alder Gulch, which would prove to be incredibly rich.
However, the Montana camps did not achieve widespread fame until 1863. It was not Gold Creek or Alder Gulch, but Florence and other Idaho camps that, in the summer and autumn of 1862, drew at least five parties of gold-seekers into the mountains, who remained in Montana because they were unable to cross the mountain barrier separating them from the Salmon River camps in Idaho.
The first of these parties reached Gold Creek by wagon train from Fort Benton, while the second came from Salt Lake City. An election was held to establish a community organization, the first of its kind in Montana. The men from the East brought with them ideas about law and order. The Montana fields now had many upstanding citizens, including the Stuart Brothers, Samuel T. Hauser, Walter Dance, and others who would later become prominent figures in the state.
These men played a crucial role in organizing the first miners’ court, which tried – and promptly hanged – Stillman and Jernigan, two ruffians who had arrived from the Salmon River mines only four days before meeting their fate for their past crimes.
An associate of theirs, Arnett, was killed while resisting arrest. Florence’s reputation for lawlessness and bloodshed was well-known, and the organized band of desperadoes operating in Idaho might soon extend its reach into Montana, creating a sense of unease among the newcomers from the States.
Two more parties, also bound for Idaho and similarly thwarted by the Salmon River range, arrived at the Montana camps that same summer. Both originated from the Pike’s Peak region in Colorado. And in the autumn, a fifth party arrived, this one under military protection, led by Captain James L. Fisk and including settlers bound for Oregon and miners headed for Idaho. This expedition reached the Prickly Pear Valley in Montana on September 21, 1862, after departing St. Paul on June 16, traveling by steamboat and wagon train. While Captain Fisk and his expedition continued to Walla Walla, nearly half of the immigrants decided to try their luck at placer mining. However, the yield was not substantial, and the distant Salmon River mines, their original destination, remained elusive. Winter was approaching. It was now too late in the season to reach the Salmon River mines, located 500 miles across the mountains, and Salt Lake City, Utah, the nearest supply post, was 400 miles away. Therefore, most of the men joined the small army of prospectors in Montana. Some of them drifted to the Grasshopper diggings, soon to be known as Bannack – one of the wildest mining camps of its time.
The diverse origins of the population in the early Montana camps reveal a difference in the two streams of people converging on the new placer fields. Generally, the most reckless and desperate of the old-time adventurers, those coming from the West, had been based in the Idaho camps and could be expected to arrive in Montana at any moment. In contrast, the men recently arriving from the States were of a different character, many of them sober and law-abiding, seeking to improve their fortunes rather than simply indulging in the wild and licentious lifestyle of a placer camp. Law and order eventually prevailed in every mining community. In Montana, law and order arrived almost simultaneously with lawlessness and desperadoism.
Law and order did not have to wait long before the notorious Henry Plummer and his gang from Florence, Idaho, arrived. Plummer was already known as a dangerous man but was not yet recognized as the leader of the secret society of robbers and murderers that had terrorized the Idaho camps. He marked his arrival in Bannack, Montana, by killing a man named Cleveland. He was acquitted in the miners’ court, which tried him on the usual grounds of self-defense. He possessed considerable personal charm.
The same tribunal soon reconvened to try three other murderers, Moore, Reeves, and Mitchell, with the understanding that the men would have a jury and legal counsel. They were essentially acquitted, and after that, the outlaws grew bolder than ever.
The Plummer gang vowed to kill every man who had served on that court, whether as a juror or officer. They were so successful in carrying out their threat that out of the twenty-seven men involved, all but seven were either killed or driven out of the country, with nine being murdered outright. Hank Crawford, who had served as sheriff of the miners’ court, was relentlessly pursued by Plummer, who repeatedly tried to provoke a quarrel with him. Plummer was the best shot in the mountains at that time and believed it would be easy to kill his man and claim self-defense.
Fortunately, Crawford caught Plummer off guard and shot him with a rifle, breaking his right arm. Plummer’s friends summoned Dr. Glick, the best physician in Bannack, to treat the wounded man, warning him that he would be shot if he revealed anything about the visit. Glick kept his silence and later had to attend to many of the wounded outlaws, who were constantly involved in gunfights.
Nathaniel P. Langford provides the best historical account of these wild affrays, the savage life they represented, and the harsh ways in which retribution overtook the desperadoes of the Mines of Idaho & Montana. Langford, a prominent citizen of the West, accompanied the overland expedition of 1862 and participated in Montana’s early life. His book, Vigilante Days and Ways, is an invaluable contemporary record.
It is challenging to fully recreate these scenes in our minds, even though the events occurred no earlier than the Civil War. "Life in Bannack at this time," Langford wrote, "was perfect isolation from the rest of the world. Napoleon was not more of an exile on St. Helena than a newly arrived immigrant from the States in this region of lakes and mountains. All the great battles of the season of 1862 – Antietam, Fredericksburg, Second Bull Run – all the exciting debates of Congress and the more exciting combats at sea first became known to us on the arrival of newspapers and letters in the spring of 1863."
The Territory of Idaho, which included Montana and nearly all of Wyoming, was established on March 3, 1863. Before that, western Montana and Idaho were part of Washington Territory, with Olympia as the capital, while Montana east of the mountains belonged to the Territory of Dakota, with Yankton on the Missouri River as the capital. Langford clarifies the political uncertainties of the time and the difficulty of enforcing the laws, and he recounts the circumstances that led to the creation of the new Territory of Montana in 1864, encompassing the boundaries of the present-day state.
In Montana, as in other regions during this period of great sectional division, there was considerable political strife, which undoubtedly contributed to a surprising political development: Henry Plummer, the most notorious outlaw of his day, was elected sheriff and entrusted with enforcing the laws! He did, in fact, make a show of enforcing the laws. He married and settled down, and for a time, some naively believed that he had reformed, though he could not have.
By June 1863, the extraordinarily rich strike in Alder Gulch had been made. The news spread like wildfire to Bannack and the Salmon River mines in Idaho, resulting in one of the most intense stampedes and the almost overnight rise of Virginia City. Meanwhile, some Indian fighting had occurred, and General Connor won a decisive victory against the Bannack Indians at the Bear River, who had preyed on the emigrant trains for years. This made travel on the mountain trails safer, and Last Chance Gulch, where the city of Helena now stands, quickly attracted a large population. The historian mentioned above lived there. Let him describe the life:
"One long stream of active life filled the little creek on its auriferous course from Bald Mountain, through a canyon of wild and picturesque character, until it emerged into the large and fertile valley of the Pas-sam-a-ri…the mountain stream called by Lewis and Clark in their journal “Philanthropy River.” Lateral streams of great beauty pour down the sides of the mountain chain, bounding the valley… Gold placers were found upon these streams and occupied soon after the settlement at Virginia City was commenced… This human hive, numbering at least 10,000 people, was the product of ninety days. Into it was crowded all the elements of a rough and active civilization. Thousands of cabins, tents, and brush wikiups were seen on every hand. Every foot of the gulch…was undergoing displacement, and it was already disfigured by huge heaps of gravel which had been passed through the sluices and rifled of their glittering contents… Gold was abundant, and every possible device was employed by the gamblers, the traders, and the vile men and women that had come in with the miners into the locality to obtain it. Nearly every third cabin was a saloon where vile whiskey was peddled out for fifty cents a drink in gold dust. Many of these places were filled with gambling tables and gamblers… Hurdy-gurdy dance-houses were numerous… Not a day or night passed which did not yield its full fruition of vice, quarrels, wounds, or murders. The crack of the revolver was often heard above the merry notes of the violin. Street fights were frequent, and as no one knew when or where they would occur, everyone was on his guard against a random shot.
“Sunday was always a gala day… The stores were all open… Thousands of people crowded the thoroughfares, ready to rush toward any promised excitement. Horse racing was among the most favored amusements. Prize rings were formed, and brawny men engaged in fisticuffs until their sight was lost and their bodies pummeled to jelly while hundreds of onlookers cheered the victor… Pistols flashed, bowie knives flourished, and braggart oaths filled the air as often as men’s passions triumphed over their reason. This was indeed the reign of an unbridled license, and men who at first regarded it with disgust and terror, by constant exposure, soon learned to become a part of it and forget that they had ever been aught else. All classes of society were represented at this general exhibition. Judges, lawyers, doctors, and even clergymen could not claim an exemption. Culture and religion afforded feeble protection, where allurement and indulgence ruled the hour.”
Imagine, then, a fabulously rich mountain valley twelve miles long, inhabited by over ten thousand men and producing over ten million dollars before the end of the first year! It is a staggering concept. How could all this gold be transported safely? We are told that the only stage route extended from Virginia City only as far as Bannack. Between Virginia City and Salt Lake City, Utah, lay an entirely unsettled wilderness, 475 miles wide. "There was no post office in the Territory. Letters were brought from Salt Lake for two dollars and a half each and later in the season for one dollar each. All money at infinite risk was sent to the nearest express office at Salt Lake City by private hands."
Practically every man in the new gold fields knew about the existence of a secret band of well-organized ruffians and robbers. The general feeling was one of extreme unease. Many men had extracted considerable quantities of gold and would have liked to return East with their small fortunes, but they dared not leave. Repeatedly, the express coach, the solitary rider, and the unguarded wagon were held up and robbed, usually with murder. When miners traveled from one camp to another, they took every precaution to conceal their gold dust. On one occasion, a group bored a hole in the end of the wagon tongue with an auger and filled it with gold dust, thus avoiding detection! The robbers learned the identities of the express agents and were always informed of every large shipment of gold. It was almost impossible to hide anything from them, and resistance was met with death. Such a reign of terror, such an organized system of highway robbery, such a disregard for human life, was rarely found at any other time or place.
As we have seen, there were good men in these camps – although even the best of them likely lowered their living standards somewhat after arriving there – but the problem was that the good men did not know each other, had no organization, and initially hesitated to attempt one. On the other hand, the robbers’ organization was complete and kept its secrets as closely as the grave. Many lonely graves held secrets that would never be known. How many men left the Eastern States and disappeared? Their fate remains a mystery, part of the untold story of the mining frontier.
It is known that Plummer and his gang killed 102 men; the number murdered without their fates ever being discovered is impossible to determine.
Plummer led the band, but, being a master hypocrite, he kept his involvement a secret. His position as sheriff gave him many advantages. He pretended to be a silver mine expert, among other things, and was often called upon to "expert" some new mine. This usually meant that he left town to commit some desperate robbery. The most daring crimes always required Plummer’s leadership. Sometimes, he would leave on the pretext of pursuing a fugitive from justice. His horse, the fastest in the region, was often found exhausted at the rear of his house, indicating that Plummer had been on a secret errand. He was suspected many times, but nothing could be proven against him, and the law-and-order men lacked the boldness and organization to punish him.
We are not concerned with recounting thrilling tales, bloody almost beyond belief, and indicative of incomprehensible depravity, but rather with the causes and effects of this wild civilization that flourished in one of the most rugged regions of the American West. It is essential to remember the dual nature of this population, which attracted not only ruffians and desperadoes, men undaunted by any risk, but also men of steadfast courage and resilience. There were men who were rough, coarse, brutal, and murderous, but there were also men who were self-reliant, stern, just, and committed to fair play.
This commitment to fair play was the foundation of the civilization that followed these scenes of violence. It fueled the great Montana Vigilante movement, which ultimately eradicated Henry Plummer and his gang. The centers of civilization were distant. The courts were powerless. In some cases, even the legal machinery was controlled by these criminals. However, their actions were so violent, brutal, murderous, and unjust that the indignation of the good men slowly reached a boiling point, leading to open resentment and swift retribution. The good men of the frontier valued justice above all else, and they enforced it in the only way available to them. They followed California’s example, and they did so effectively, minimizing the need for future repetition.
The extermination of the Henry Plummer band occurred quickly once the vigilantes were mobilized. Red Yager, a member of the gang, and another man named Brown were involved in the murder of Lloyd Magruder, a merchant in the Territory. Their capture followed closely after the hanging of George Ives, who was also accused of multiple murders. Ives exemplified the degrading influence of the mines. He had been a decent young man until he left his home in Wisconsin. He was in California from 1857 to 1858. By the time he appeared in Idaho, he seemed to have abandoned all restraint and become a common rowdy and desperado. It was said of him that "few men of his age had ever been guilty of so many fiendish crimes."
Yager and Brown, aware of Ives’s fate, lost hope when they were captured by the newly formed vigilantes. Brown was hanged, as was Yager, but before his death, Yager made a full confession, providing the vigilantes with information they had never been able to obtain.
Langford lists the names disclosed by Yager as follows: "Henry Plummer was chief of the band; Bill Bunton, stool pigeon and second in command; George Brown, secretary; Sam Bunton, roadster; Cyrus Skinner, fence, spy, and roadster; George Shears, horse thief and roadster; Frank Parish, horse thief, and roadster; Hayes Lyons, telegraph man, and roadster; Bill Hunter, telegraph man and roadster; Ned Ray, council-room keeper at Bannack City; George Ives, Stephen Marshland, Dutch John (Wagner), Alex Carter, Whiskey Bill (Graves), Johnny Cooper, Buck Stinson, Mexican Frank, Bob Zachary, Boone Helm, Clubfoot George Lane, Billy Terwiliger, Gad Moore were roadsters." Virtually all of these men were executed by the vigilantes, along with many others, and the outlaw gang was completely dismantled.
Much has been written and romanticized about the behavior of these desperadoes when they met their fate. Some were brave, while others proved to be cowards. Plummer initially begged abjectly, his eyes filled with tears. He suddenly felt remorse as his entire past life flashed before him. He promised everything, begged for everything, if only his life could be spared – he asked his captors to cut off his ears, to cut out his tongue, then strip him naked and banish him. However, at the very end, he seemed to have regained his composure. Stinson and Ray met their fate, alternately swearing and whining. Some of the ruffians faced death boldly. More than one jumped from the ladder themselves or kicked away the box that was their only foothold between life and eternity. Boone Helm was as hardened as any of them. He was a cannibal and a murderer with no redeeming qualities. His last words as he jumped were, "Hurrah for Jeff Davis! Let her rip!" Another man calmly remarked that he cared no more for hanging than for drinking a glass of water. But each, in his own way, met the end that his own lack of compassion had ordained for him, and he received no compassion from the men who had resolved that the law should be established and endure.
There was an immediate improvement in the social life of Virginia City, Bannack, and the surrounding camps as soon as it became clear that the vigilantes were active. Langford, who was intimately familiar with the organization’s activities, does not apologize for the vigilantes’ actions. However, they did not have the backing of the actual law. He says:
"The retribution dispensed to these daring freebooters in no respect exceeded the demands of absolute justice… There was no other remedy. Practically, the citizens had no law, but even if law had existed, it could not have afforded adequate redress. This was proven by the feeling of security that resulted from the band’s destruction. When the robbers died, the people felt safe, not only for themselves but for their pursuits and property. They could travel without fear. They had reasonable safety assurance in transmitting money to the States and in the arrival of property over the unguarded route from Salt Lake. The crack of pistols had ceased, and they could walk the streets without constant exposure to danger. There was an omnipresent spirit of protection, akin to that omnipresent spirit of the law which pervaded older and more civilized communities… Young men who had learned to believe that the roughs were destined to rule and who, under the influence of that faith, were fast drifting into crime shrunk appalled before the thorough work of the Vigilantes. Fear, more potent than conscience, forced even the worst of men to observe the requirements of society, and a feeling of comparative security among all classes was the result."
Naturally, not all the bad men were eliminated. From time to time, additional figures of solitary desperadoes emerged vividly in these surroundings, each with his own list of victims, and each ultimately falling before the weapons of his enemies or meeting the justice of the law or the more severe justice of the vigilantes. It would not be pleasant to read even the names of a long list of these individuals; perhaps it is sufficient to select one, the notorious Joseph Slade, one of the "picturesque" characters about whom much inaccurate and childish history has been written. The truth about Slade is that he was initially a good man, faithful in carrying out his duties as an agent of the stage company. When he needed to use violence lawfully, he began to use it unlawfully. He drank and quickly deteriorated. Eventually, his transgressions became so numerous that the community took him out and hanged him. His fate taught many others the risk of going too far in defying law and decency.
What was true of the camps of Florence, Bannack, and Virginia City had been true to some extent in earlier camps and would be repeated, perhaps less vividly, in camps yet to come. For example, the Black Hills gold rush, which occurred after the railroad but before the Indians were entirely displaced, created a certain wild history of its own. There was the Deadwood stage line and Deadwood City, with its wildlife of drinking, gambling, and shooting – the place where many notorious bad men lost their lives, and some capable officers of the peace shared their fate. Detailing the life of this stampede and the wild scenes that followed is perhaps unnecessary here. The main point is that the great quartz lodes of the Black Hills ultimately supported a stable, prosperous, and law-abiding population.
Across the West, once unspeakably wild and reckless, now rise great cities where only recently were scattered mining camps barely worthy of being called units of any social compact. It was only yesterday that these men fought, drank, and dug their own graves in their own sluices. In the city of Helena, on the site of Last Chance Gulch, one recalls that not so long ago, citizens could proudly point to the old dead tree known as "Hangman’s Tree." It marked a spot that could be considered a focal point of the old frontier. Around it, and in the surrounding area, the great battle was fought whose outcome was never in doubt – the battle between the new and the old days; between law and order and individual lawlessness; between the school and the saloon; between the home and the dance-hall; between a united and resolute society and the individual reverted to worse than savagery.