Missoula Magazine

Summer/Fall 2010

bonnie’s building

building a bridge between native american and mainstream cultures

holland lake

montana or bust

missoula’s first family

the big burn of 1910

spectacular solitude in the heart of the swan

of griz football

missoula icons land in ultimate living place

the seething flames of the big burn

As a locally owned and operated mall, Southgate believes strongly in giving back to the community and people who give us so much. Because being a good member of the community never goes out of style.

Missoula’s Own Happy Shopping • shopsouthgate.com SGMK_083A_MSLAsOwnLg_v2.indd 1 missoula magazine

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letter from the editor

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’ve always loved the start of a new school year: the rows of yellow buses, stacks of unopened Crayola boxes, the shiny new lunch boxes and sharpened pencils.

It’s all so optimistic.

And if that new year brings a new school building, all the better.

Such is the case as the 2010-11 school year begins at the University of Montana.

There’s a graceful new building on campus waiting to welcome students home: the Payne Family Native American Center. And there’s a new head football coach, anxiously awaiting his first Saturday afternoon at the helm in Washington-Grizzly Stadium; Robin Pflugrad.

In this edition of Missoula magazine, we visit with both newcomers.

Gwen Florio, city editor of the Missoulian and our Native news blogger at BuffaloPost.net, teamed up with photography editor Kurt Wilson for a beautiful look at the Native American Center. The building itself is a wonder, but the story and the people behind it are even more so.

You’ll meet Bonnie HeavyRunner, who started UM’s Native American Studies program and was a champion of Native students on campus and in the community until her early death from cancer. Then you’ll meet her remarkable family.

Listen to this excerpt from Gwen’s story: “She really strived for her education,” said Gertie HeavyRunner, Bonnie’s mom. “We love all of our children, of course. But Bonnie was our pride and joy.”

Even when her daughter was sick, HeavyRunner said, she held fast to “this dream of building a bridge, a bridge between whites and Indians. We have to do that because we’re isolated here (on the reservation) and the non-Indian students are isolated, too,” in terms of not knowing many Indian people.

The Payne Family Native American Center is that bridge.

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ritz Neighbor, who covers Grizzly football for the Missoulian, brings us the profile of Robin and Marlene Pflugrad, Missoula’s new “first family of football.”

We wanted to give you all a chance to know the Pflugrad family before we all turn our attention to first downs and touchdowns. I think you’ll like what Fritz came up with: an intimate portrait of a football family – Robin, Marlene and their two children, Amanda and Aaron. Their ties to Griz football run deep, but their ties as a family are the

foundation.

Listen to son Aaron in this excerpt from our story: The move from Arizona State to Washington State was a tough one.

“Big city to a small town,” Aaron said of the move to Pullman, Wash. “But I had family, and there’s your dad’s job, and through that you’re able to meet people. It’s something I have gotten used to.”

In fact, Aaron Pflugrad moved again, during his junior year, when Robin landed yet another job at Oregon. The problem was that in December, Aaron had scored the winning touchdown for Pullman High in the Washington Class 2A title game against Seattle’s Archbishop Murphy.

“We were coming off a state championship,” said Aaron. “I really liked my teammates and coaches.

“It came down to not wanting to split up the family.”

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here’s lots more as well, as we wrap up another edition – and another year – in the still-young life of Missoula magazine: A life’s-list getaway to Glacier National Park. A lazy afternoon at Holland Lake Lodge. A bottle of whiskey from Montana’s only distillery.

And we’ll be back again in November with a grand edition of holiday comings and goings in this loveliest of cities: Missoula, Montana USA.

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bookmark it!

Go online to Missoulian.com throughout the summer and fall for:

football!

Griz beat writer Fritz Neighbor has the inside scoop as head coach Robin Pflugrad makes his debut in Washington-Grizzly Stadium. Don’t miss a down, or a blogpost, at GrizBlitz.com.

tailgates!

It’s tailgating season in Missoula, and craft beer connoisseur Tim Akimoff knows the best brews for your pre-game (and post-game) enjoyment. He’s serving up suggestions now at GrizzlyGrowler.com.

fall fishing!

If you’re looking to get away from the crowds, fly-fishing blogger Bob Meseroll knows where the fish are biting on western Montana’s rivers and streams. He’s your guide to fall fishing on our new blog, TalkingTrout.com.

native news!

After you read Gwen Florio’s story on the new Native American Center in this edition of Missoula magazine, check out her Native news blog, BuffaloPost.net. She’ll keep you posted on all the people, places, issues and events of importance to Indian Country nationwide.

newsroom news!

Ever wonder about the inner workings of Missoula magazine and the Missoulian newsroom? Editor Sherry Devlin tells all at MissoulaEditor.com.

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CLOVER S T U D I O organic clothing & home furnishings

missoula.com flagship magazine missoula is is thethe flagship magazine of of the the missoulian missoulian newspaper newspaper

publisher john vanstrydonck publisher stacey mueller

editor sherry editor sherrydevlin devlin

art director director kate art katemurphy murphy

assistant art director mike assistant art director mikelake lake

photo editor editor kurt photo kurtwilson wilson sales & marketing advertising director director kristen bounds jim mcgowan

online director jim mcgowan

writers tim akimoff writers tim akimoff sherry devlin betsy cohen gwen florio gwen florio lori grannis daryl gadbow michael jamison lori grannis kate murphy michael jamison fritz neighbor bob meseroll greg patent michael moore kate murphy

photographers joe tomnickell bauer michael gallacher greg patent kurt wilson jodi rave graphic design diann kelly mike lake photographers tom bauer andrewgallacher henderson michael adam potts linda thompson megan richter kurt wilson

advertising sales diann jacque walawander

graphic design kelly 406-523-5271

megan richter

chris sawicki

distribution Available in more

youa vangthan 160 racks in western Montana, Missoula magazine is a natural extension for people who read and rely on the Reaching 80,000 to 90,000 readers daily, the Missoulian newspaper. advertising sales jacque walawander Missoulian has long been recognized as the most thorough, in-depth source of

523-5271 news in western Montana. Missoula magazine takes this award-winning coverage another step, showing off the very best of Missoula in words and photographs.

By capitalizing on distribution .Available in morethroughout than 160 racks western Montana, the Missoulian’s presence the in region and utilizing its Missoula.com a natural extension for magazine people whoand readMissoula.com and rely on the website establishedmagazine chain of is distribution, Missoula Missoulian newspaper.

80,000 to 90,000 daily,publication the Missoulian long reach more readersReaching in more places than any readers other such in has western been recognized as the most thorough, in-depth source of news in western Montana.

Montana.

Missoula.com magazine takes this award-winning coverage another step, showing off the very best in words By capitalizing on the Missoulian’s No part of of theMissoula publication mayand bephotographs. reprinted without permission. presence the region utilizing its established distribution, Missoula. ©2010 throughout Lee Enterprises, all and rights reserved.

Printed inchain the of USA. com magazine and Missoula.com Web site reach more readers in more places than any other such publication in western Montana.

No part of the publication may be reprinted without permission. ©2007 Lee Enterprises, all rights reserved. Printed in the USA.

on the cover:

life

•

style

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design

114 east main missoula 406.542.2213

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Kenny McClure, a Salish tribal member from St. Ignatius, watches the

on ceremonies the cover: dedicating the Native American Center on the University of

Ryan Montana Springer campus pedals in May. along the Clark Fork River with a delivery of Le Petit Outre breads bound for downtown Missoula restaurants. cover photo by Kurt Wilson

cover photo by linda thompson

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vol.4 no.3

inside this issue

contents summer/fall 2010 As one young person after another shyly stepped past the front-row dignitaries, Reno Charette announced: “We believe in your ability to change the world. Indian Country needs this knowledge only you can bring to your people.” page 30

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in season

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bonnie’s building holland lake lodge missoula or bust missoula’s first family of griz the big burn of 1910

missoula magazine

fashion buzz know your vino and your beer western montana getaway parting shot

the way we were

1900 all ashore Horses are brought to shore by barge at the south end of Flathead Lake in this scene from the early 1900s.

Photograph courtesy of Randy Newmann

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fashion buzz

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Women’s V-neck: Dillards 6

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T-shirt: JCPenney 6A

Neon Light: UC Bookstore

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Griz Helmet: UC Bookstore

Logo Overalls: Dillards 2A

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Fashion Windbreaker: J.Elaine’s

Men’s Hoodie: Dillards

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know your vino

Located on the west shore of Flathead Lake, Mission Mountain Winery has gained national and international praise and won more than 100 medals for its wines.

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vintage of ’84 by kate murphy photos by tom bauer

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AYTON – Mission Mountain Winery is a cornerstone of Montana wine history. The Campbell family, now heralded as Montana’s first family of wine, started the winery more than 30 years ago and was bonded as the first winery in the state of Montana.

While many wineries and vineyards have come and gone since, Mission Mountain continues to thrive.

They have not missed a step since introducing their first vintage in 1984, and have established firm footing as the Big Sky’s flagship winery.

Located on Flathead Lake’s West Shore in Dayton, Mission Mountain Winery produces about 6,000 cases of wines each year. Today it is owned and operated by Tom Campbell Jr., who started the vineyard under his father’s direction after training and getting his degree in oenology (winemaking) at the University of California at Davis.

Fresh out of school in 1979, he worked at several different wineries, including Jekel and Shiloh in California and Ste. Michelle and Quail Run (now Covey Run) in Washington.

While working in Washington, Campbell returned to Montana periodically to establish Mission Mountain Winery. In 1998, he moved back full time. Although firmly rooted in Montana, Campbell continues to keep a hand in Washington wine country as the director of wine production for Woodhouse Family Estates in Woodinville and Tanjuli in Zillah.

He travels to these vineyards monthly and is looking to eventually expand further into Napa.

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In 1984, Campbell started with 3,000 cases of wine. This year that number was up to 6,000, about 500 cases less than last year.

“On premise, wine sales took a hit this year because of the recession, but the wine stacks in the stores have done quite well,” he says.

Campbell only distributes his Mission Mountain wines here in Montana.

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Tom Campbell Jr. owns and operates Mission Mountain Winery, which he started more than 30 years ago after working at wineries in California and Washington.

ince his winemaking debut at Mission Mountain Winery, Campbell has garnered a reputation for producing excellent wines, gaining national and international praise, and winning more than 100 medals for his wines.

The wines produced at Mission Mountain winery include: Vin Gris (made from Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris and Gewurztraminer), Riesling, Monster Chardonnay, Pinot Gris, Gewurztraminer, a “blush” wine called Sundown (made from a proprietary blend of grapes), Muscat Canelli, Nouveaux Riche, Muscat Canelli, Ice Wine, Huckleberry Mountain (made from natural huckleberry juice), Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Monster Red (a Merlot – Cabernet blend), Malbec, Syrah, Cream Sherry, Port, Cocoa Vin

continued on page 56

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and your beer

whiskey & the west by tim akimoff photo by kurt wilson

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hiskey and the West are synonymous, like sake and Japan or tequila and Mexico. So why wasn’t it until November 2009 that Montana had its first legal distillery since before Prohibition?

“Most states now are revamping some of their laws,” said Bryan Schultz, owner of RoughStock Distillery in Bozeman.

“The more they open it up to small distilling, the more tax revenue they get.”

It was that very “revamping of laws” that allowed Bryan Schultz and his wife Kari to step into the void and produce Montana’s first legal whiskey in threequarters of a century.

“My wife and I are both from agricultural backgrounds,” Schultz said.

“She’s from the Hi-Line, and I grew up south of Billings on a farm.”

They were Hi-Line and foothills wheat farmers, so they knew the kinds of grain that grow on the plains at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

But the seeds for the idea of making whiskey were planted on another continent.

“I lived overseas for four years,” Bryan Schultz said. “Every town had their own winery, bakery, brewery and distillery.

They were self-contained townships.”

Back in Montana, Schultz looked around and saw local, local, local

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RoughStock Distillery is located at 705 Osterman Drive, Suite C, Bozeman, MT 59715 RoughStock Montana Whiskey is available at Missoula’s Grizzly Liquor, and at a long list of other locations by searching www.montanawhiskey.com.

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everywhere. Local breweries were popping up all over the state, along with local dairies, bakeries and wineries. But no distilleries.

“I was a big fan of whiskey,” Schultz said. “I started looking more into the distilling aspect of this and thought now is as good a time as any to start a distillery.”

While making good whiskey is not easy, starting up a distillery in a country just loosening the grip of Prohibition some 77 years after it was repealed is a very daunting task.

“It’s very demanding,” Schultz said of the process. “We were denied the first time because we didn’t have a period in the right place. You literally have to have all your i’s dotted and t’s crossed.”

According to Schultz, the litmus test for a distillery startup is having everything in the right place.

“It keeps the hopeful dreamers away,” Schultz said. “The State Department and the Department of Revenue were both great to work with, but it was a lot of work.”

When every t was crossed and every i dotted and the period placed in the right spot, Schultz won licensing in 2008. In the meantime, he and his wife spent a lot of time in Kentucky traveling to various distillers’ festivals trying to soak up

own.

Serendipity could be said to have played its part, when the International Malting Co. was completed in 2005. This allowed Montana brewers and startup distillers to access Montana grains malted locally.

“Without that malt plant, we couldn’t have done a 100 percent Montana product,” Schultz said.

knowledge.

“It helped, but ultimately it all fell on our shoulders,” Schultz said. “What they do in Kentucky or Scotland is completely different than what we do here.”

What is Whiskey?

Whiskeys come in a variety of styles and flavors mostly dictated by region.

There are American whiskeys like bourbon, rye, malt and wheat. Scotch whiskeys are further broken down by region: Highland, Lowland, Islay, Speyside and Campbeltown.

Whiskeys are also distilled in a variety of different ways depending on region and tradition. There are malt whiskeys made from malted barley and grain whiskeys made from a blend of both malted and unmalted barley. There are single-malt, blended and cask-strength whiskeys, and to further complicate matters, good whiskey is now made in places like Japan, India, Australia and Taiwan.

“What we did was set out to make a 100-percent Montana-grown and distilled product,” Schultz said.

With a brand-new still made by Vendome out of Kentucky, the Schultzes had a foot in the door of the industry, so to speak, but they needed to make it their

Distilling Whiskey RoughStock Montana Whiskey is made from a custom blend of a couple of different Montana grain varieties, which are milled extremely fine, like sand particles, in order to extract the nutrients.

A big difference at RoughStock is the inclusion of grains in the entire process, which differentiates the distillery from other single-malt whiskey makers. Grains are left in through the distillation process in order to gain more flavor.

The mash, or a heated soup of grain bits, goes in the cooker and the malt enzymes convert everything to sugar.

After that, everything is put into an open top fermenter, a whiskey yeast is pitched and a very fast fermentation occurs at 90 degrees for 72 hours, resulting in an 8

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missoula cooks

Moussaka, the classic Greek dish with layers of fried eggplant enclosing a cinnamon-flavored ground beef filling and topped with an eggy bĂŠchamel sauce, makes a fine meal for a summer evening.

extravagant eggplant by greg patent photos by michael gallacher

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ggplant, most often associated with Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisines, had its original home in tropical Asia. Although the large purple globe variety most common in our markets look like giant eggs, many varieties of eggplant lack the egg shape completely. The Japanese eggplants are long and slender, for example.

Regardless of shape, all eggplants share one common trait: creaminess of texture when cooked. They also have a rich, deep flavor associated with the umami factor, a quality of “meatiness” possessed by other vegetables, including tomatoes and mushrooms.

When buying eggplant, select only those with tight, shiny skins. Reject any wrinkled or bruised ones. The stem ends should be green. At home, use them as soon as possible or refrigerate for no more than one or two days. Unlike zucchini, size does not affect an eggplant’s tenderness or flavor.

Eggplant may be fried, grilled, roasted and turned into dips, made into eggplant parmigiana, ratatouille, gratins, soups or stuffed. The recipes here are classics: moussaka, from Greece, and baba ghanoush from the Middle East.

Moussaka may be made with beef or lamb, and some cooks even substitute zucchini or sliced potatoes for the eggplant.

But that defeats the point, because there just is no substitute for the creaminess and earthiness of eggplant.

Baba ghanoush, a Middle Eastern dip made from roasted eggplant, tahini and lemon juice, is robust and tangy. Serve with pita chips as an appetizer.

Greg Patent is a food writer and columnist for the Missoulian and Missoula magazine. Visit Greg’s website at www. gregpatent.com. You can write him at chefguymt@gregpatent.com.

Recipes on page 24.

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Moussaka More than four pounds of eggplant go into this Greek classic. Peeled, sliced eggplant, salted and drained of its bitter juices, is fried to a rich brown color and layered in a pan with a cinnamon-flavored ground meat filling.

An egg-enriched white sauce goes on top followed by a sprinkling of grated cheese. After a final baking, the dish is ready to serve. The beauty of moussaka lies in its combination of textures and flavors and in how it showcases the creaminess of the eggplant.

Eggplant needs a lengthy salting before cooking. About two hours should do it. After rinsing the slices and patting them dry, they’ll brown quickly in olive oil and absorb very little of it.

Moussaka can be made in stages.

The eggplant and meat filling may be made a day ahead and refrigerated.

On the day you plan to serve it, just assemble it, make the béchamel sauce, and bake. Serve with a green salad and crusty bread.

• Eggplant • 3 large globe eggplants (about 4 1/2 pounds total weight) • Salt • Olive oil for frying • Meat Filling • 4 tablespoons olive oil • 1 pound yellow onions, peeled and grated on the large holes of a box grater • 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped • 1 1/2 pounds ground chuck (80 percent lean)

• 1 cup canned tomato puree or crushed tomatoes • 4 tablespoons chopped parsley • 1 teaspoon dried oregano leaves, crumbled • 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons salt • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Béchamel sauce • 3 cups milk • 6 tablespoons butter • 6 tablespoons flour • Salt and pepper • Pinch of nutmeg • 3 egg yolks Final Topping • 1/2 to 3/4 cup grated parmesan, compté or kefalotiri cheese • 2 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces

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stirring occasionally, until golden and tender, about eight minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook one minute more. Add the meat, breaking it up with a wooden spoon, and cook just until browned. Stir in the tomato, parsley, oregano, salt, pepper and cinnamon. Cook, stirring, 5 to 10 minutes more, until meat mixture is thick. Taste carefully and adjust seasoning if necessary. Cool, cover, and refrigerate for up to two days. Reheat over low heat before assembling the moussaka.

Cook, stirring constantly, about two minutes, to cook the yolks. Sauce will be very thick.

To assemble and bake the moussaka, adjust one oven rack to the center position and a second rack to the lowest position. Set a sheet of aluminum foil on the lower rack and preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 12-by-8-by-2-inch baking dish.

Arrange half the eggplant slices, slightly overlapping, to cover the bottom of the pan completely. Spread with the hot meat filling, packing the filling down.

Cover the meat completely with the remaining eggplant slices, overlapping them as necessary.

Whisk the hot béchamel sauce to make sure it’s smooth, and spread it evenly over the eggplant. Sprinkle with the cheese and dot sauce with the butter pieces. The pan will be full.

Bake on the center rack for 45 minutes, or until well-browned. The foil will catch any juices that bubble over.

Cool the moussaka for 15 minutes. Cut into portions with a sharp knife using a gentle sawing motion.

Makes eight servings.

o prepare the eggplant, cut the ends off and discard. Peel the vegetable and cut crosswise into 1/2-inch-thick rounds. Sprinkle salt on both sides of each slice and layer them in a colander. Set the colander in the sink, cover the eggplant with a plate, and set a 5-pound weight on top. A few cans of food should do it. Let stand two hours to drain.

Rinse eggplant to wash off any salt, and squeeze each slice to remove water.

Pat eggplant dry between several layers of paper towels. Eggplant will have shrunk considerably.

Film a large skillet with olive oil and set the pan over medium-high heat. When very hot, add eggplant to the pan in a single layer and cook about two minutes on each side until well-browned. Drain on paper towels, and continue cooking eggplant in batches, adding more oil as necessary.

Arrange the cooled eggplant slices, slightly overlapping, on a baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate up to two days.

To make the filling, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.

When hot, add the onion and cook,

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or the béchamel, heat the milk in a saucepan until almost boiling and set aside. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Stir in the flour with a wooden spoon and cook the bubbly roux for two minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and pour in all the hot milk.

Stir well and return the pan to medium heat.

Cook, stirring, until the sauce is very thick, two to three minutes. Remove sauce from the heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste and add the nutmeg.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks with about 1 cup of the sauce. Add to remaining sauce in pan and stir well.

Baba ghanoush

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his classic Middle Eastern dip, flavored with tahini, makes a great appetizer. Tahini tends to separate into an oily top layer and a thick, pasty lower sesame layer during storage. To recombine them, scrape the tahini into a blender, and blend on a medium speed until smooth. You can make Baba Ghanoush a day or two ahead and refrigerate it. Bring to room temperature before serving with pita chips.

• 1 large (1 1/2 pound) globe eggplant • 1 garlic clove • 4 tablespoons tahini (roasted sesame seed paste) • 2 tablespoons lemon juice • 1/2 to 3/4 teaspoon salt • Minced parsley • Pomegranate seeds, optional

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Make about six small incisions on top of the eggplant. Set the eggplant on a baking sheet, and bake in the center of a preheated 400-degree oven for about one hour or until eggplant feels very soft and is completely cooked through.

Cool to room temperature, cut off both ends, and strip off the skin with your fingers. Tear the eggplant into strips and squeeze gently between your hands to remove bitter juices.

Put the eggplant into a bowl and mash with a potato masher until smooth.

Put the garlic through a garlic press onto the eggplant. Add the tahini and mash it in with the garlic. The eggplant will lighten in color and thicken a bit. Stir in the lemon juice and salt. Taste and adjust seasoning as necessary.

To serve, put the baba ghanoush unto a bowl, sprinkle with a little minced parsley and pomegranate seeds, if using, and serve with pita chips.

Makes two cups, about eight servings.

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western montana getaway

Hikers make their way across a snowfield at the base of Haystack Butte along the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park. The pass at Haystack Butte is about the halfway point to Granite Park Chalet.

taking the highline by michael jamison photos by kurt wilson 26

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EST GLACIER – It’s a walk in the park to this view with a room, a highly scenic Highline getaway that ends with a soft bed beneath soaring peaks.

“A ‘wow’ experience,” writes one reviewer over at TripAdvisor.com. “Loved it,” writes another. At least one visitor called it “a religious experience.”

The most apt description, perhaps, came from the hiker who described the “beautiful setting, great people, and rustic accommodations.”

First, that setting.

Granite Park Chalet was the last of eight backcountry chalets built by the Great Northern Railway, a stunning stone structure strapped to the rocks with panoramic views from on high. Heaven’s Peak and the Livingston Range, McDonald Creek far below, the long and graceful arc of the Garden Wall.

It was built in 1914 and 1915, the last in a string of wilderness chalets each a day’s horseback ride from the next. Today, only two of those hand-crated chalets remain – Granite Park and Sperry. Both are deemed National Historic Landmarks, and provide a view not only of park peaks but also of an earlier age, when tourists saw Glacier from a saddle and lodged each night beneath hand-hewn timbers.

And then there are those great people.

People from all over the world, from every walk of life, people crowded into the kitchen at dinner time and huddled around the spotting scope at dusk. People you just met and will never forget. A chalet stay is intimate, cosy, like a shared secret or the magic of summer camp. The staff seems in on it, too, always ready to lend a hand or loan a map or share some advice.

In addition, there are the botanists and biologists and geologists and naturalists who lead occasional hiking tours from the chalet, explaining stone, goat and sky pilot.

Now, as to those rustic accommodations.

The chalet itself is remarkable in its craftsmanship, but it’s on that Historic Register for a reason. Don’t come expecting air-conditioned luxury and a mint on the pillow. In fact, don’t expect a pillow, or electricity or flush toilets. Granite Park Chalet is essentially a big stone tent, a roof with a shared camp kitchen and a handful of pots and pans. Thin walls. Squeaky beds.

Bring earplugs.

You can also bring your own meals, or you can pre-order from a menu and they’ll missoula magazine

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Top: Heavens Peak fills the frame of a front window at Granite Park Chalet. Bottom Left: A mountain goat looks into the vast valley below the Highline Trail. Middle right: Described by one hiker as “beautiful setting, great people, and rustic accommodations,� Granite Park Chalet is a welcome sight at the end of the Highline Trail. Bottom right: Hoary marmots populate the Highline Trail and regularly greet hikers along the way.

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have the ingredients ready for you to cook.

Sheets and blankets, likewise, can be ordered, or you can pack in your sleeping bag.

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hen deciding what to bring and what to buy, consider that amenities are expensive up here, as everything must be packed in by mule. But also consider that the only access is by hiking trail, and what you carry in must be carried out – and you don’t have a mule.

What you do have, or should have, is a pair of good hiking boots and an afternoon to spare. The steepest way in is also the shortest – up from the Loop, four miles and 2,300 vertical feet.

The hardest route is over Swiftcurrent Pass, nearly eight miles and 2,200 feet up.

But the most popular trail by far is the Highline Trail, tracking north from Logan Pass. The Highline – often spotted with snow well into July – covers 7.6 miles of relatively flat terrain, winding gently along the Continental Divide in the shadow of the Garden Wall.

It’s an impressive route, and a relatively tame one despite steep cliffs that fall away to the west.

Used to be, hikers leaving Logan Pass, staying at Granite Park and hiking out to the Loop were forced to hitch a ride back to their rig, but a new park shuttle now provides free transportation between trailheads. It operates from the first of July until early September – which is essentially the entire chalet season – and has made the Highline a popular late-summer loop even for those without chalet reservations.

And speaking of those reservations, make sure you get one. The books for next year open in the last week of October, and within a month or two the coming summer’s rooms are filled. The hottest slots – late July and early August – are gone literally within hours. Staffers recommend monitoring www.graniteparkchalet.com to be quickest on the draw.

But there the rush stops. The hurried race to reserve a place immediately gives way to the long winter’s wait, the spring of anticipation, the leisurely stroll along the Highline, the lingering twilight of a chalet summer – all gone too soon, and just in time to start making next year’s plans.

WHO MANAGES YOUR HEALTH? You hire accountants and brokers to help you manage your money.

But when it comes to your body do you just wing it? Maintaining good health is a process, and it takes medical knowledge and a reliable source to monitor and record your body’s changes throughout your life. Invest in yourself now, and reap the benefits of a healthier life later.

Michael Jamison covers Glacier National Park for the Missoulian. He can be reached at 1-800-366-7186 or at mjamison@missoulian.com

We do.

SERVING YOUR COMMUNITY SINCE 1922

Kurt Wilson is photography editor of the Missoulian. He can be reached at (406) 523-5244 or by e-mail at kwilson@missoulian.com.

55 MEDICAL PROVIDERS 18 SPECIALITIES

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Bonnie’s BuiLding Written by Gwen Florio

Photographed by Kurt Wilson

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t took a substantial contribution from University of Montana alum and Missoula insurance executive Terry Payne to realize the stunning addition to the buildings that grace the UM Oval – hence the name Payne Family Native American Center.

But a very different sort of contribution sustained some of the students for whom the building was designed.

On the sparkling May morning that marked the building’s formal dedication, relatives of Bonnie HeavyRunner stood with fistfuls of $20 bills and began calling for takers among the students in the audience: Single moms. Law students. Veterans.

Take a $20, they were urged. Take it from HeavyRunner’s family, just as struggling students in the early days of the fledgling Native American studies program would take the $20s urged upon them by HeavyRunner herself, who knew they couldn’t afford both books and, say, pizza. Or child care.

As one young person after another shyly stepped past the front-row dignitaries, HeavyRunner’s friend Reno Charette announced: “We believe in your ability to change the world. Indian Country needs this knowledge only you can bring to your people.”

The greenbacks came with just one condition, she said. “Promise to do the same when you are financially able.”

The new center may be named – with gratitude – for the Paynes. But when you go beyond wood and steel and glass to the beating heart of the place, well then, you’re talking about Bonnie’s building.

Gertie HeavyRunner, mother of Bonnie HeavyRunner for whom the main lobby area of the Payne Family Native American Center building is named, bows her head during a prayer at the dedication of the center. “In my day,” HeavyRunner says, “there was no such thing as (college) education.”

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Bonnie HeavyRunner, photographed in 1996 after a third round of chemotherapy treatments for cancer, said at the time, “I want people to see me as I really am.” She died in 1997, a year after Native American studies became a major at Montana.

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onnie Sim-Sin (Mermaid) HeavyRunner never lived to see the magnificent building that houses the Native American studies program that she herself launched. She died in 1997, just a year after Native American studies became a major. By then, she’d been battling ovarian cancer for more than five years. In fact, even as the program gained its official status, she offered to step down, fearful the disease had left her too weak to be effective.

James Flightner, then-dean of UM’s College of Arts and Sciences, recalled that such a move had been unthinkable. “I said, ‘No, Bonnie, we need you to stay,’ ” he told the Missoulian the day after her death on Nov. 24, 1997.

So she stayed – and stayed busy, which is how her daughter, Aislinn Rioux, now on her own doctoral track, remembers her.

Her mom’s entire life was one of striving, Rioux said – striving to finish law school as the only Native American student in her class. To juggle career and her young family. To ensure a strong support system for other Native students.

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To that end, HeavyRunner sought more than just scholarships and mentoring for the roughly 300 Native students then on the UM campus. (There are now more than 500, among the school’s overall enrollment of nearly 12,000.) She wanted a place where they felt they belonged, and that also belonged to them. There’s a word for it.

“Home,” smiled Rioux. “She wanted them to have that feeling of home.”

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ven before her illness, HeavyRunner faced a lot of obstacles – Native American on a largely nonNative campus, a woman going into what was still a largely male profession, and for a while a single mom with all of the financial and emotional pressures that entails.

Home, however, wasn’t one of those pressures.

HeavyRunner was grounded in an extraordinary family, one of 13 children born to Gene and Gertie HeavyRunner, both of whom were torn from their Montana tribe and educated in boarding schools in Kansas and Pennsylvania before they made their way back home to the Blackfeet Reservation.

“In my day,” said Gertie, who is 86, “there was no such thing as (college) education. I was lucky to go away to

The new center may be named – with gratitude – for the Paynes. But when you go beyond wood and steel and glass to the beating heart of the place, well, then, you’re talking about Bonnie’s building.

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She held fast to “this dream of building a bridge, a bridge between whites and Indians.”

Blackfeet tribal member Peter Tatsey gets set to raise his tribe’s flag outside the Native American Center in May. Bonnie HeavyRunner was a member of the Blackfeet Tribe and was raised in Browning with 12 brothers and sisters.

school and graduate. But I had no future as far as college was concerned. My parents were poor, and there weren’t the grants and scholarships that they have now.”

So she and her husband leaned hard on their children to further their own education in a way that, for them, had been impossible.

Bonnie was born on the family’s land in the rural stretches of the Blackfeet Reservation, on a sweep of prairie buttressed to the west by the limestone spires of Glacier National Park. Although the family later moved into Browning, where Gertie still lives in a house adorned with family and religious photos, they frequently returned to that spot for family outings.

There was nothing easy about that life. But Gertie HeavyRunner, who holds profound regard for both the Roman Catholic faith and her Native traditions, says the family was blessed. Her husband always had a good job as a lineman. And food was cheaper then, she said – “You could feed 13 children on a dollar’s worth of hamburger” – which meant that caring for their large brood was never a financial strain.

So there was plenty of energy for the studying that Gene and Gertie demanded.

The results speak for themselves. Her six surviving

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children include a state legislator, a Ph.D., a musician, and of course Bonnie, who was a lawyer.

“She really strived for her education,” said Gertie HeavyRunner. “We love all of our children, of course. But Bonnie was our pride and joy.”

Not just because of her already impressive accomplishments, but because of what she still hoped to do.

Even when her daughter was sick, HeavyRunner said, she held fast to “this dream of building a bridge, a bridge between whites and Indians. We have to do that because we’re isolated here (on the reservation) and the non-Indian students are isolated, too,” in terms of not knowing many Indian people.

The Payne Family Native American Center is that bridge.

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onnie HeavyRunner would have seen her bridge in the ceremonies that marked the formal opening of the Native American Center.

Representatives from all the tribes on Montana’s seven Indian reservations, as well as the landless Little Shell Tribe, began the day with a procession across campus to the building, singing and drumming. UM President George

Aislinn HeavyRunner Riuox, daughter of Bonnie HeavyRunner, holds hands with family friend and University of Montana American Indian Student Services director Fredricka Hunter during the dedication ceremonies.

Dennison, who had recently announced his retirement, walked side by side with Salish Kootenai College President Joe McDonald, who retired just a few weeks later.

Dignitaries from tribal governments and state government speechified. White and brown faces filled the audience, whose attire ranged from business suits to tribal regalia.

There was a solemn pause in the pageantry while HeavyRunner’s relatives went into the building alone to smudge it, as is traditional for new lodges. When they entered, they walked beneath a photo of Bonnie whose plaque announces that the building’s soaring lobby, its most dramatic feature, is officially The Bonnie Sim-Sin HeavyRunner Gathering Place.

The lobby’s floor-to-ceiling windows draw the eye toward Mount Sentinel.

“Bonnie loved the mountains so,” her mother said, so much that whenever Bonnie returned to Browning, she wanted to go to their place outside of town, to be closer to them. That’s where she’s buried.

“She faces the mountains,” said her mother, “so her spirit can see them.”

There is a striking resemblance among the HeavyRunner women through the generations: Gertie.

Bonnie. Aislinn. They have the same features, the same smile – the one that glows in Bonnie’s photo.

Fredricka Hunter, UM’s director of American Indian Student Services, who is still settling into her office in the new center, says that “what I want students to understand is that this building houses Native American students – and that it’s also for all students. It is truly a place for all.”

Because that’s what Bonnie HeavyRunner would have wanted.

“Look at her,” Gertie HeavyRunner says of her daughter’s photo. “She’s looking down on everyone. She’s smiling. She’s happy. ... She fulfilled her dream.”

Gwen Florio is city editor of the Missoulian. She can be reached at 523-5268, gwen.florio@missoulian.com, or at BuffaloPost.net.

Kurt Wilson is photography editor of the Missoulian. He can be reached at 523-5244 or by e-mail at kwilson@missoulian.com.

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Guests to the lodge are encouraged to simply relax and soak in the views.

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Spectacular Solitude in the heart of the Swan

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By Lori Grannis

OLLAND LAKE – Like a faded screen star long past her close-up, a framed image of Holland Lake Lodge hangs just above a small corner secretary desk in its own rustic lobby.

It was taken in 1924 – the year the lodge was built.

Scratched and faded now, the black-and-white cell immortalizes the original auberge as it was in the years before a fire swept through and destroyed it in 1947. It is the single remaining photograph of the dwelling in that era.

Proprietor Christian Wohlfeil purchased the lodge in

Photos by Michael Gallacher

2002, at the tender age of 25 years. Four years before, he was hired to manage the lodge for former owners. Twelve years later, he still can’t imagine living anyplace else.

Holland Lake Lodge has seen plenty of owners in the last 86 years. Based on records, before Wohlfeil the average length of tenancy was about three years.

“I’ve heard that power didn’t arrive in the valley until 1959, and that they didn’t pave the highway until the 1960s,” Wohlfeil says. “I think it was something like a two-day stagecoach ride from Missoula in the 1920s and 1930s, so missoula magazine

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ownership (in those days) must have been difficult.”

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espite the probable travails of running a seasonal hideaway back then, Holland Lake Lodge has always been a functioning guest lodge.

The lodge itself features nine rooms that sit directly above the lobby and restaurant.

Tucked beneath red matelasse quilts, upstairs guests awaken each morning to the smell of sizzling bacon, and most rooms provide an unobstructed view of the sunrise.

Six private cabins sit lakeside – each with a firepit and an inexhaustible supply of wood – and bear names like Wolf House, Moose Roost and Bear Lair. Most feature two queen beds and are dog-friendly – owing to long-broken ground by Silas, the resident 9-year-old golden retriever.

Wide-set eyes top a perpetual canine grin, eclipsed only by paw pads the size of small baseball mits. On this afternoon, Silas shuffles impatiently from foot to foot, waiting to board a canoe for a chance at a mid-afternoon plunge.

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dirondack chairs huddle on the sprawling lakeside lawn like chatty girlfriends. These front-row seats provide guests unobstructed snapshots of majestic snow-capped ranges, and offer a lazy recline in full view of wildlife’s flurry.

Birds are abundant here – loons, cranes, starlings, eagles. On this afternoon, a pair of sharp-eyed eagles scan wind-rippled water for kokanee salmon, and cutthroat, bull and rainbow trout – all naturally abundant in this lake.

Just this morning, staff say, a guest bagged a 22-inch bull trout.

Otters, beavers, turtles and other lakelubbers are also here – probably for the same reason guests are: the spectacular solitude.

“Spectacular solitude” has become a tagline Wohlfeil uses when describing both the lodge and locale, in print and in conversation.

Nestled between the Mission Range to the west and the Swan Range to the east, at 4,075 feet Holland Lake is something of a hidden jewel.

Beyond the lodge, Holland Falls appears a frothy bridal veil cascading over rocky cliffs. It’s a mere 1 1/2-mile hike to and from there, and another five miles beyond to upper Holland Lake.

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ut hiking is just one of several things to do here.

Canoes and kayaks come complimentary with cabin and lodge stays. A new fleet of single and double kayaks just arrived this year, according to Wohlfeil. Equine trail rides are available to guests for an additional hourly or

Above: Whether it’s sharing a canoe with friends or hiking the numerous trails around the lake, the Holland Lake Lodge experience is all about solitude.

Right hand page from top (left to right): The cabins at the lodge are dog friendly.

Guests to the lodge are encouraged to simply relax and soak in the views.

Kasey Mahon enjoys a good book in the quiet of the main lodge.

Toasted pistachio-encrusted Alaskan halibut is just one of the many delicacies on the menu in the Holland Lake dining room.

The lodge has nine rooms in the main structure where guests wake to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen below.

Executive chef Amber Lukas crafts most of her menu from scratch.

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half-day fee.

Most things here don’t require quite as much energy, or commerce, though.

Views are all part of the package, as is lounging, reading, eating and other erstwhile pursuits.

When Wohlfeil took over the lodge in 2002, he converted nightly room rates to an “all-inclusive” American plan – merging a per-person night’s stay, with three meals a day, in a double-occupancy rate structure.

Per person lodge rates run $125 per night; cabins rates are $145.

Beyond magical views and a peaceful setting, the food at Holland Lake Lodge is one of the things that draws people here, Wohlfeil says, so packaging everything together as an “experience” just made sense.

From the decor to the food, the idea has been to create the most authentic Montana lodge experience possible for guests, he says – from the aesthetics of the lobby’s wildlife mounts and river rock fireplace, to hearty food fit for dignitaries and campers alike.

“I’m always working on restoration projects throughout the property, but what we really try to do is rival the views here with service and good food,” he says.

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xecutive chef Amber Lukas came to the lodge on the heels of a chef who departed early in the season in 2007. Once Wohlfeil got over the initial panic, he cast a wide net to find a replacement.

About 1,500 e-mails, a paragraph-long job description and a network of mutual friends later, Lukas contacted him, and was hired.

Now in her fourth year as kitchen chief, lodge loyals have savored her tasty fare several times over: Spinach, corn and roasted garlic flan, toasted pistachio-crusted Alaskan halibut, cabernet-marinated filet mignon and stuffed chicken pot pie in Marsala cream sauce are just some of her signature dishes.

A self-taught culinarian, Lukas’ food rivals big-city menus, owing to her exceptional palate, and the meticulous crafting of almost everything from scratch.

House-made vinaigrettes, sauces, herbedand-spiced aioli, and painstaking beef demi-glace, mean guests and drop-in mealtime visitors are as well-fed as they are well-rested.

“To offer everything fresh and homemade is really special,” says Wohlfeil.

Fish is flown in fresh, he says, and all meats and fish are hand-cut in-house.

Local produce is also bountiful here in

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m

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s s i

oul a

or bust

tim akimoff photos by michael gallacher illustration by adam potts by

M

issoula was awash in green and bathed in sunshine when I first visited three years ago. It was March, and spring rains had left their telltale mark on the hillsides. The Bitterroot and Clark Fork rivers ran cold and blue, and snow-capped Lolo Peak lit up like a beacon in the late-afternoon sunshine.

If a city could put its best foot forward, Missoula did so brilliantly.

Still, if you would have told me that in three years not only would I be living, working and raising children here, but that I’d own my first house here, I would have said you were crazy.

You have to be careful when you’re just passing through, because, as the personalities behind two of Missoula’s most iconic enterprises can attest, Missoula has a tendency to pull you in and never let you go.

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t was the summer of 1970, and I, like a lot of people in 1970, had mixed feelings about that war that was going on,” Jim Caron said.

“I had a master’s degree from the University of California at Santa Barbara, and I didn’t know what I was going to do next.”

The founder of the Missoula Children’s Theater, like others of his generation, got into a Volkswagen bus covered in peace symbols and headed west out of Chicago.

“My only goal was that a friend of mine was getting married in the Salem, Ore., area,” Caron said. “So I decided it was Oregon or bust in a VW, and often as not it was bust in those old, underpowered Bugs.”

When Caron was pulled over by the Montana Highway Patrol just outside of Butte, he got a little taste of Montana’s own unique diversity.

“I knew I couldn’t have been going too fast,” Caron said.

“Those things just barely go the speed limit.”

The officer asked him if was planning on going into Butte for gas. “I had visions of ‘Easy Rider,’ all of a sudden,” Caron said. “I said no sir, I’m not, and he said OK and started to walk away.”

Caron poked his head out the window and said, “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, why did you ask me if I was going into Butte for gas?”

The officer’s reply was right out of a movie, according to Caron: “Well, in that vehicle and with that hair, I was going to go in with you to make sure you got out OK.” Welcome to Montana.

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aron continued on toward Missoula, but the old VW started coughing and spitting near Rock Creek. “I pulled into a campground about five or six miles up,” Caron said. “I started asking people about Missoula to see what kind of services it had.”

The reply was the first description of Missoula Caron would hear. “They said it’s a really smelly town,” he remembered. “But those were the days of the Hoerner-Waldorf pulp mill.”

The campers did, however, tell Caron about a Volkswagen dealership in town.

“I went into Leo’s Big Boy to have some lunch while the car was being worked on,” Caron said. “And I saw an audition poster for ‘Man of La Mancha.’ ” Caron had tried teaching after grad school, but there was way too much bureaucracy. “And I was way too 1970s for that,” Caron said. “Too cool for prime time.”

But he’d always wanted to play Sancho in “Man of La Mancha.”

“I thought, well, I’m not very busy, I might as well go over and audition,” Caron said.

Whether some great force in Missoula moved or Caron had natural performing skills, he got a call-back for a second audition.

“I auditioned on a Friday afternoon and was called back for Sunday,” Caron said. “In the meantime, I drove all night to get to that wedding in Salem, and drove all day the next day to get back in time for that Sunday audition.”

“I stumbled into the ultimate living place on earth.” - Bruce Micklus

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“I had nothing to do anyway, and I thought I might as well stick around for the summer.” - Jim Caron

Caron got the part, and the other lead went to Don Collins, who would become his partner in the early years of Missoula Children’s Theater.

“I sort of fell in love with the mountains,” Caron said. “I had nothing to do anyway, and I thought I might as well stick around for the summer.”

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tay for the summer, stay forever: Caron’s story can be heard at every watering hole in town. It’s the story of Missoula.

About a decade later, Bruce Micklus, owner of Rockin Rudy’s, was folding up his record store in Bend, Ore. “In my mind, the only other economic recession I can remember being hard hit by was the inflation of the early ’80s,” Micklus said. The prime rate rose to 19.5 percent, and if you owed money on things like your building and on inventory, you were screwed.”

It ran a lot of businesses into the ground, and Micklus’ record store was one of them.

“I’d been collecting records since I was a kid,” Micklus said.

“That’s all I had left.”

So he set off in search of another little ski town like Bend. “I

was going to check out Park City, Jackson, places like that that were the same sort of level of small town, ski kind of place.”

Micklus’ roommate happened to need a ride to Whitefish, which actually fit the description of the town Micklus was looking for, so he volunteered to give her a lift up there.

“She had a friend who was living in Missoula,” Micklus said.

“So we drove from Bend to Missoula in a day.”

Being broke and with nothing more than his own record collection to show for his career, Micklus grabbed the Yellow Pages and quickly found two used record stores. One was called Snow’s Equipment, and it sat on the corner of Higgins Avenue and Fourth Street, where Ciao Mambo is today. The other was called the Memory Bank, and it was out on Brooks Street.

Micklus went and peeked in the windows of both stores late that afternoon. “I was not overwhelmed by what I saw in the stores,” he said.

So he went back and had dinner at his roommate’s friend’s house, and he happened to grab the classified section of the Missoulian, where he found a little place for rent on Higgins on what is now known as the Hip Strip.

“I gave the guy a call and made an appointment to see the

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Missoula’s First Family of

football

Robin and Marlene Pflugrad make their home in Missoula in the shadow of Mount Sentinel and the cement M where Robin proposed marriage to her 24 years ago.

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written by friTz neighbor photographed by tom bauer

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In the spring of 1986, Marlene Smith made a fateful trip to Missoula to visit her boyfriend, new Montana Grizzlies’ receivers coach Robin Pflugrad.

She’d been to Missoula before – she flew in as a member of the Oregon State gymnastics team for a meet in the late ’70s – but this time she had a chance to look around. It was the previous fall when Smith had moved to Beaverton, Ore., to take a teaching job that would put her closer to Pflugrad, whom she’d dated off and on since their days at North Eugene (Ore.) High.

As luck had it, Pflugrad – a member of Don Read’s coaching staff at Portland State – followed Read to Montana after the 1985 season. Now Smith was teaching at a Catholic school in the Portland suburbs and Pflugrad was making his receivers stay on their blocks 550 miles away.

It wasn’t quite what she’d figured on, but there she was, climbing the M with Robin, tracing the zigzag trail up Mount Sentinel above the University of Montana campus. There were people here and there, but once the pair reached the 125-by-100-foot cement letter, the crowd soon thinned.

For the moment, the M stood for “Marry Me.” Robin popped the question. Marlene said yes.

“It was a long walk down, I told her, if she said no,” he says, a little more than 24 years later.

“That’s exactly what I told her.”

He needn’t have worried. He’s a recruiter and had sealed the deal, even if this recruit took a little longer than your typical five-star flanker. missoula magazine

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obin first noticed the pretty blonde in junior high, when his Colin Kelly basketball team met rival Madison for the city championship. Madison, the host, had a celebratory cake ready to cut and balloons strung inside the gymnasium. On the Madison rally squad was Marlene Smith.

“She did catch my eye, no question,” he said. “I was at the freethrow line and I saw her, but I was able to make both of those free throws. I was pretty proud of the fact that I was able to concentrate that well.”

For the record, Colin Kelly won.

A year later, Pflugrad was at North Eugene High School, where his football teammates included Danny Ainge and Jerome Souers.

That Marlene Smith also roamed the halls didn’t go unnoticed, though Pflugrad said, “More or less, I don’t think she was very interested in me at all.”

“I tried on a few occasions to ask her out,” he added. “But we really didn’t go out until the very end of our senior year, the last month of high school.”

They later drifted apart: While she went to Oregon State, he went to junior college at Mount Hood to play football. From there he headed to Portland State, where he played and coached for Mouse Davis, and then eventually landed an assistant’s job under Read.

Then, in 1985, they ran into each other again.

“We were nine years out of high school and we went to a wedding of a mutual friend,” she said. “And we knew then that we’d be together.

“So when we showed up at our 10-year high school reunion, we were engaged.”

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early a quarter-century later, the Pflugrads are back in Missoula, where Robin is the Grizzlies’ 34th head football coach.

They’ve raised two kids, Amanda and Aaron, both of them born at Community Medical Center and now both of them in Phoenix, Ariz.: Amanda, a recent graduate of the University of Oregon, has an internship at television station ABC 15, and Aaron is a junior receiver at Arizona State University.

It’s about as nuclear as a football family can be, through all the ups and downs a typical coaching life has to offer.

Pflugrad left UM for an assistant’s job at ASU after the 1994 season, and just ahead of Montana’s first of two Football Championship Subdivision titles. He took his family, including two boxers – Amanda named hers Griz and Aaron named his Emmett – to Tempe, where they had front-row seats for the Sun Devils’ near miss of a national title in 1996.

The last-minute loss to Ohio State in the 1997 Rose Bowl capped the Sun Devils’ best season under Bruce Snyder; three years later, Snyder and his staff were fired.

“That’s when you realize, ‘Boy, this is a tough profession,’ ” said

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Robin. “It’s a little bit of ‘Wow,’ and Marlene was saying, ‘Well, gee, we were really close to winning two or three games, and we won six!’

“And I’m saying, ‘I know. I don’t understand it either.’ ” Marlene and the kids stayed in Tempe while Robin spent the spring commuting two hours to Flagstaff, helping out Souers – his high school teammate and fellow UM assistant from 1986-1994 – at Northern Arizona.

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hen Mike Price called that summer and offered him a job at Washington State. With Souers’ blessing, the Pflugrads were on the move again.

A couple more moves would follow – to Oregon in 2006 and to Montana in 2009 – but this was the toughest.

“I have to say the hardest move was when we left Arizona to come to Washington,” said Amanda. “It was going into my eighth-grade year, and I had developed a lot of friendships down there.”

Aaron, a budding athlete, felt much the same way.

“Big city to a small town,” he said of moving to Pullman, Wash.

“But I had family, and there’s your dad’s job, and through that you’re able to meet people. It’s something I have gotten used to.”

In fact, Aaron Pflugrad moved again, during his junior year, when Robin landed yet another job at Oregon. The problem was that in December, Aaron had scored the winning touchdown for Pullman High in the Washington Class 2A title game against Seattle’s Archbishop Murphy.

“We were coming off a state championship,” said Aaron, who played alongside current Eastern Washington linebacker JC Sherritt and QB TJ Levenseller, who transferred to EWU from Washington State last fall. “I really liked my teammates and coaches.

“It came down to not wanting to split up the family.”

In fact, the family did split for a short time: Amanda was nearly finished with high school, so she stayed in Pullman with Marlene to finish up. Aaron headed to Eugene with Robin, and ran track at Sheldon High.

It cemented a strong bond for the Pflugrad men. It’s only in the past year that they’ve not lived in the same place. Once Robin was let go as receivers coach at Oregon in the winter of 2008-09, Aaron transferred to ASU.

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efore then, Aaron went to as many college practices as his dad did.

“I loved it from Day One,” he said. “The ability to go and stand on the sidelines at practice, to sit in on meetings when I was in middle school and high school – I had opportunities most kids didn’t.”

Watching hours of cut-ups for game situations is not every middleschooler’s cup of tea.

“I loved it, for some reason,” said Aaron, who credits his football

From left to right: Amanda Pflugrad cheers during her college days at Oregon.

Aaron Pflugrad plays the receiver position at Arizona State University.

Robin Pflugrad coaches the Montana Grizzlies during a recent practice.

The Pflugrad children, both born at Missoula’s Community Medical Center, goof with a camera in this photograph from the family scrapbook.

IQ for his success on the field. “When my dad was at Washington State, I did basically everything but practice with the team. I was at every meeting. I loved every second of it.”

He was a ball boy at that epic 1997 Rose Bowl, ran pass patterns in Sun Devil Stadium as a fourth-grader and broke down film at Washington State.

“We were going up the tunnel in Martin Stadium before a game,” Robin remembered. “And he’s telling me, ‘Dad! I know when they’re going to run it and I know when they’re going to pass it.’ It was kind of cool. He had it figured out at an early age.”

I

t seems a given that Marlene, who was the cheerleading coach at UM for a time, would have a cheerleader daughter and that Robin would have a receiver for a son, but they didn’t plan it that way.

“I hope I raised some very well-rounded individuals,” says Marlene. “I encouraged them to try all kinds of activities.”

It was in Arizona where Marlene told Aaron he not only had to take junior high music, but he had to learn an instrument. But Aaron researched the curriculum and found that wasn’t true. Then he brought the information home and carefully explained why he wouldn’t be taking band.

“He’s kind of our old soul,” Marlene said. “Robin and I don’t know how they’re our kids.”

The kids give credit where it is due.

“I’d have to say my Mom has really kept our family together,” said Amanda. “She’s such a strong individual. Having to move and all that stuff, she’s been really good at keeping things together, though Dad has been too.”

In fact, when the choice has been his, Robin considered family first when he made his moves. The ASU job was a good opportunity that came while his kids were fairly young and more adaptable; taking the position at Oregon put his family close to the kids’ grandparents.

In between, his workaholic ways ran him afoul of Mike Price at Washington State, who sent his staff home to their families one Sunday – and had to threaten Pflugrad before his assistant left the office.

“I don’t want to have to fire you before your first game,” Price told him. “Go home.”

“I walked out and got in the car and drove home,” Pflugrad remembered. “And I thought, ‘Wow. This is pretty cool.’ ”

T

he reminder that family came first may have made the move to Oregon easier.

“I think the decisions he made were the best ones, he thought, for his family,” Marlene said. “I appreciate that he’s always taken into account what his family needs.”

She also acknowledged how tough it can be to be a coach’s wife.

Sitting home alone while Robin worked long hours, then raising kids

on top of it – it was a bit much at times.

“He deserves credit for staying with me,” she says with a smile.

“There were maybe … expressions of how I wished things were different. He’s a very patient man. I’m getting the best of the deal.”

Robin, conversely, figures she got the worst of it.

“We got right into a situation where there’s really no learning curve,” he said. “You can date and all that, but once you’re involved, it’s 24-7. When were first got to Montana, we really felt we had to rebuild a program and to do that – it was over 100 hours a week. We’d get home at midnight and be back at the office at 6.

“Coach Read was good to us, but boy, he demanded hours. … Marlene became the father and the mother, no question, in the early years.”

T

hese days, they marvel at how fortunate they’ve been. Not long ago, Amanda was in Oregon Duck green and gold, cheering on her receiver brother and coaching father at Autzen Stadium. How often does that happen?

Yet those halcyon days soon ended. Chip Kelly was elevated to replace Mike Beliotti as the Ducks’ head football coach, and he let Robin go. Pflugrad bounced over to Missoula, where he coached receivers while looking at jobs at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Ore., and Portland State.

“That was probably one of the hardest things I’ve had to see,” said Amanda. “In football, obviously it comes with the territory. But this hit the hardest and closest to home.”

Then an odd thing happened: Bobby Hauck left UM for UNLV, and the job Robin Pflugrad had tried for twice before was open again.

Eight days after Hauck’s departure, Robin was named head coach at the University of Montana.

“The outcome with him at Montana – I kind of understand now that everything happens for a reason,” Amanda said. “I’m really happy for him. (Oregon) didn’t make sense at the time, but it does now. I’m so excited for him.”

Robin and Marlene Pflugrad can see the M from the balcony of their apartment high above Greenough Drive. It’s where this all began – with a proposal from a relentless recruiter.

And yes, he was nervous.

“It was a long recruiting project, I guess you’d say,” said Robin.

“You never know for sure. But it was a pretty good feeling when she said yes, no question. That was pretty cool.”

Fritz Neighbor covers Grizzly football for the Missoulian. He can be reached at 523-5247 or at fneighbor@missoulian.com.

Tom Bauer is a photographer for the Missoulian. He can be reached at 523-5270 or by e-mail at tbauer@missoulian.com missoula magazine

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missoula magazine

Zeller and Anton Canjar were among the thousands of firefighters and townspeople who were caught in the path of the great fire.

University of Idaho Library. Special Collections & Archives

“Fancy a deep bowl which is completely lined with seething flames, yourself a spectator in the center, and you can in some degree conceive the scene.”

Mr. Swaine, survivor of the Fires of 1910

By SHERRY DEVLIN

B

y summer’s start, the spine of the Bitterroot Range was afire.

There were lightning storms in June, mass ignitions in July and a national call for help in August.

Hundreds – more likely thousands – of fires burned along a north-south line from the Salmon River to the Canadian border.

Smoke obscured every horizon.

Settlers and firefighters prayed for rains that would not come.

After a late July lightning burst, District Forester W.B. Greeley put his forest supervisors on high alert.

“Strengthen the patrol,” he commanded. “Retain a strong guard.

Keep on hand a strong force of experienced firefighters who can be brought together quickly and relied upon to do good work.”

Townspeople in Wallace, Idaho, exploded dynamite, believing (or at least hoping) that manmade thunder could inspire rainshowers.

Taverns from Spokane to Butte surrendered their patrons to fire patrol. And thousands of men marched into the backcountry, on orders to keep the fires in check – if not extinguished. All hoped for an early advent of winter. None imagined what was to come.

It was Aug. 20, 1910.

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“The fire was coming at a high rate of speed.

Already, it was beginning to throw shadows in our camp.

We were right in the middle of its path.”

Foresters survey the result of a blowdown of white pine in the hurricane-force winds on the Little North Fork of the St. Joe River in Idaho.

U.S. Forest Service

T

he wind came early that afternoon, a hurricane force that hit Idaho’s Nez Perce National Forest first, meeting and merging with several large fires already burning. Fire lines disintegrated like tissue paper. Darkness fell half a day too soon.

Jumping the northern boundary of the Nez Perce, the wind took aim on the Clearwater River country. Already, the flame front reached 50 miles from side to side. And growing.

Exploding north along the Bitterroot crest, the storm intensified, swallowing each of the earlier fires it came upon. The gale uprooted entire forest stands, tossing ancient white pines and cedars like matchsticks from a dropped box.

The fire incinerated all that it encountered, indiscriminate in its destruction of towns, trees and lives. First came the roar, like a thousand locomotives crossing a thousand trestles. Then the glow, a light on the darkened horizon. Then the flames.

From scientists, we know the likely power of the blowup: runs of more than 50,000 acres, fire brands thrown 10 miles from the flame front, turbulence of up to 80 mph, burns – where the fire entered a natural crucible – equivalent to a Hiroshima-type bomb exploding every two minutes. Three

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million acres of land burned in two days.

From the firefighters and townspeople who survived, we know the otherwise unbelievable reality of the firestorm’s passing.

“Fancy a deep bowl which is completely lined with seething flames, yourself a spectator in the center, and you can in some degree conceive the scene,” wrote one man, who helped in the defense of tiny Mullan, Idaho.

Some towns were saved by backfires, lit – at considerable peril – as a last resort against the fire’s approach.

Some burned to the ground: Taft, DeBorgia, Henderson and Haugan on the Montana side of the divide; Wallace, on the other.

Those who met the fire in the backcountry survived by diving into creeks and mine tunnels, staying put despite falling embers and suffocating gases.

Virtually all who ran died.

By the time the firestorm spent itself in the Kootenai National Forest, at least 78 firefighters and seven civilians were dead: a mother and baby who drowned trying to escape the flames in their homestead’s well, a man who shot himself for fear of burning to death, another who jumped from a train as it neared a burning trestle.

Firefighters gather for breakfast at a fire camp in Avery, Idaho.

U.S. Forest Service

One-hundred years later, all of the survivors are gone – and with most of them, their stories. Many of the firefighters simply were not literate. Some were not even known to their crew bosses, having been hired so quickly and haphazardly.

The stories that were recorded, though, are like no others in the history of wildland firefighting. A few of those follow, pulled from U.S. Forest Service files, family letters, handwritten reminiscences and newspaper clippings.

D

arkness fell on Moose Creek, on the southern edge of the Clearwater National Forest, just after 4 in the afternoon.

Curiously, none of the 30 men in Ed Thenon’s command thought the premature nightfall alarming and instead ate their supper and said their goodnights.

Thenon bedded down, but did not sleep, “being one of those persons who can use the bed extensively as a place where lots of time can be spent in thinking over one’s troubles.” Twice, he heard rain pelting the tent, or so he hoped. Twice, he got out of bed and found pine needles – not raindrops – falling.

Then he heard Louie Fitting’s voice calling: “Ed! Come out

here. I just saw a star fall on the hillside across the creek. It has started a fire.”

True enough, there was a small fire starting well up the hillside across the creek. Thenon knew better than to blame a falling star, though, and turned slowly to the west, the direction the gale of wind was coming from. The sky was pink, the color spread across a width of several miles.

Said Thenon, “I knew at once all about Fitting’s star and where it came from.”

There was almost no time to wake his crew, Thenon remembered nearly 30 years later. “The fire was coming at a high rate of speed. Already, it was beginning to throw shadows in our camp. We were right in the middle of its path.”

As was true with so many others – firefighters and homesteaders – caught in the fire’s path, the creek was the crew’s only refuge. But it was no more than six or eight inches deep and encumbered by a 6-foot-wide sandbar. Still, Thenon knew escape was simply not possible.

“I got up on a log and called all the men’s attention to me long enough to advise them not to leave this spot, to stay together and not to make an effort to save themselves by leaving the creek, that missoula magazine

51

Men called to fight the fire get off the train at Avery, Idaho.

Museum of North Idaho

this could not be done,” he said.

“I was throwing a bucket of water on the grub pile when I heard a commotion among the men and left my work to see what it was about. I found that two of the men had completely lost their minds. One of them had become violently insane. Three men were trying to hold him and to lay him down in the creek. The other one was dancing around and singing a lullaby.”

The fire was upon them. There was no time left to prepare. “I ordered every man to get into the creek, lie down and put a wet blanket over his head,” Thenon said. “I sat the lullaby boy (I did not know his name) down in the deepest water and told him to stay there and threw a wet blanket over his head. He would not lie down.

“This was the critical moment, the crisis, and the only moment during this ordeal that I felt sure my time had come, that it was the end. For no particular reason, I stuck my head into the bucket.

This proved a blessing, as I was able to draw a breath instantly and was relieved of the terrible strain. I got to my feet, and with two or three steps I was in the creek, where I lay down with the bucket still over my head.”

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E

ngineers for the Milwaukee Road saved thousands of townspeople trapped by the fire – and steep topography – along their north Idaho route.

The firestorm overran Grand Forks, a rough-and-tumble town of laborers and camp followers midway between Taft and Avery, before a rescue could be mounted. Its citizens literally ran the mile to Falcon, but the fire was close behind.

The call for help went out by telegraph to Kyle, and a work engine was dispatched over burning trestles. Johnnie McKedon coaxed his train back to Kyle, which by then was afire, then over a series of fire-weakened trestles to Stetson and eventually – with refugees clinging to the locomotive and hanging from the running boards – into Avery.

At the same time, another work train deposited 400 people in the relative safety of the 2-mile-long Taft tunnel.

The only known fatality of the railroad rescues was a man who panicked and jumped as the train neared a burning trestle.

His grave remains alongside the now-abandoned Milwaukee Road bed, on the Route of the Hiawatha mountain bike trail outside Avery.

“On Aug. 20, a terrific hurricane broke over the mountains.

The wind was so strong it lifted men out of their saddles.”

Ed Pulaski had signed on with the Forest Service two years before the fire. When one of his men reported him dead from the fire, he responded, “Like hell he is.” U.S. Forest Service

A

fter the blowup, Edward Pulaski told the story of his crew to his wife, who recorded it for him.

He was 40 years old and had prospected throughout the St. Joe and Coeur d’Alene for 25 years, signing on as a ranger with the Forest Service in 1908.

Pulaski and his men – 150 in all – met the great fire on the divide between Big Creek of the St. Joe River and Big Creek of the Coeur d’Alene.

“On Aug. 20, a terrific hurricane broke over the mountains,” Pulaski told his wife, who had remained in Wallace with her baby as the fire bore down on the town, escaping at the last moment to the slushy safety of a tailings flat. “The wind was so strong it lifted men out of their saddles. The smoke and heat became so intense that it was difficult to breathe. Under such conditions, it would have been worse than foolhardy to attempt to fight the fire. I got on my horse and went where I could, gathering my men.”

By the time Pulaski collected 45 men, his voice was nearly gone from trying to shout over the din of fire, wind and falling trees.

Not a tree remained standing out front of the fire, so great was the wind. It was nearly impossible to see through the smoke, nearly impossible to move through the crashing timber.

Pulaski knew, from his prospecting days, that two old mine

Pulaski’s crew took refuge in the War Eagle Mine tunnel as the fire swept through the area on August 20, 1910. U.S. Forest Service

tunnels were nearby, one shorter, one longer. He and his men raced for the longer of the two. On the way, one man was killed by a falling tree. Another fell behind and was caught by the fire.

“We reached the tunnel just in time,” he said. “I ordered the men to lie face down upon the ground and not dare to sit up, unless they wanted to suffocate, for the tunnel was filling with fire, gas and smoke.”

The mine timbers caught fire. The cold air of the tunnel rushed out, drawn into the fire. Smoke and fire rushed in. Pulaski stood at the entrance, assuring those who might try to leave that he would shoot them, then filling his hat with mine water and throwing it at the burning timbers.

“The men were in a panic of fear, some crying, some praying,” Pulaski said. “Many of them soon became unconscious from the terrible heat, smoke and fire gas. I, too, finally sank down unconscious. I do not know how long I was in this condition, but it must have been for hours.”

The next thing he knew was the voice of one of his men.

“Come outside, boys; the boss is dead,” the man said.

“Like hell he is,” Pulaski replied.

It was five o’clock on the morning of Aug. 21.

continued on page 64 missoula magazine

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missoula magazine

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55

Zach Volgarino of Lawrence, Kansas, samples wines in Mission Mountain Winery’s tasting room with help from manager Cheryl Tassemeyer.

vintage of ‘84

...continued from page 16 (a chocolate port), and Blanc de Noir Champagne.

Currently growing in his Montana vineyards is Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris, and small amounts of Riesling, Chardonnay and Gewurztraminer. The other grapes used in his wines are grown in his own vineyards in the Rattlesnake Hills of Washington.

“In the next five years, I plan to take more interest in grape growing here in Montana, looking into hybrid and coldtolerant grapes,” says Campbell.

However, Campbell’s love of labor is in growing and producing Pinot Noir. “It is the Holy Grail of winemaking and I still haven’t made the perfect one.”

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I

n the winery’s unassuming tasting room with a backdrop of exquisite natural beauty, I rediscovered the allure of Mission Mountain, finding clean and bright wines that deliver complexity, rich fruit and exceptional length. The Riesling is always a refreshing summer favorite, and the Huckleberry is a fun, unique representative of our state’s most famous fruit.

The concentrated, black-fruited, European-style Syrah can stand up to some of the best wines made in the Rhone.

The Merlot, a stalwart from the outset, shows better every time I taste it. Even the Cabernet, not typically a favorite varietal of mine, stands strong.

However, the shining star of the portfolio for me is the Malbec, a seamless, beautifully integrated, harmonious wine.

In all my travels, I don’t believe there is a more beautiful drive than to Flathead,

especially at this time of year. And with Mission Mountain Winery as a destination, the trip is all the better.

The Mission Mountain tasting room is open May 1 through Oct. 31, seven days a week (including holidays) from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Be sure to visit the website at www.missionmountainwinery.com, as events are held throughout the fall, including Dayton Days, Oktoberfest and Thanksgiving at the Winery.

Kate Murphy is art director of Missoula magazine and the blogger who presides over KnowYourVino.com.

Tom Bauer is a photographer for the Missoulian. He can be reached at 523-5270 or by e-mail at tbauer@missoulian.com

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whiskey & the west ...continued from page 20

percent alcohol mash.

At that point, the mash is run through the still at an average of 1,000 to 2,000 gallons a week. This is called a “stripping run,” where alcohol and flavors are stripped out of the distillate.

What RoughStock ends up with is 220 gallons of 40 percent alcohol, or low wines, a middle product that will go through the still again. On the second run, you get heads, hearts and tails.

Heads, according to Schultz, are phenolic, or medicinal in taste and smell. Hearts are sweet and grainy and clean, while tails tend to be more waxy and oily.

The heads and tails are recycled back into distillation and become the fingerprint or continuity for each new batch of whiskey, while the hearts are barreled and stored.

Whiskey in the barrel Schultz planned to put some whiskey in small barrels that could be bottled and tried at a younger age and some in larger barrels for long-term storage.

“You can plant something in the ground, but you don’t know what it’s going to do until it comes up,” Schultz said, waxing philosophical about the whiskey-making process.

If you have the best ingredients on Earth, the purest water and the finest grain, you still have to contend with environmental factors such as elevation and climate.

“It’s not necessarily that older is better when it comes to whiskey in the barrel,” Schultz said. “Raw ingredients play a big part.”

Bourbon in a brand-new barrel can be ready in just three to five years, while Scotch whiskey can take 10 to 12 years because the older barrels are used and the climate is much colder and wetter.

“Take a teabag out of a cup of hot water and place it in another cup of hot water,” Schultz said. “It takes longer for that flavor to come out. Put it in a cup of cold water, and it takes forever to get those flavors out.”

Montana whiskey made at elevation, and through the process Schultz is using can age rather quickly in new, fine-grain oak barrels.

“We keep our barrels inside a temperature-controlled storeroom where the still is heated,” Schultz said. “We heat cycle our barrels quite a bit more.”

This process causes the whiskey to go in and out of the wood just like breathing,

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and every time it does, it adds more tannins and flavors typical of oak barrel storage like vanilla.

Whiskey on the shelf and in the glass Montana’s first legal whiskey since Prohibition has been on the shelves for about eight months, thanks in part to friends and family who helped bottle whiskey every two weeks. Now, with hundreds of batches sitting in barrels to blend from, Schultz said he has a waiting list of bottling helpers going out to next October.

“People get a real kick out of it,” he said. “It takes just a few hours and we feed them a little and give them free T-shirts.”

The whiskey connoisseurs in California and Chicago have said it’s not a whiskey that you’ll necessarily see in Scotland or Kentucky, which is a good thing for Schultz and Montana.

“We’ve had good write-ups from whiskey bloggers and whiskey writers,” Schultz said. Every month we get another state.

Closer in appearance and taste to scotch than bourbon, RoughStock Montana Whiskey is uncharacteristically smooth for such a young whiskey. Current bottles have to age half a year. The residual sweetness and graininess left over from the distilling process make this whiskey delectable whether sipping it neat, or with an ice cube or two. A drop of water or two releases a bouquet of vanilla, caramel and wood, while a faint citrus taste gives the whiskey just a bit of fruitiness that makes for a nice whiskey sour.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Schultz said. “Ask me again in about five years. But I can’t complain about the reception we’ve received.”

Tim Akimoff is the Missoulian’s digital director. He can be reached at (406) 523-5202 or by e-mail at tim.akimoff@lee.net.

Kurt Wilson is photography editor of the Missoulian. He can be reached at (406) 523-5244 or by e-mail at kwilson@missoulian.com.

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T

Executive chef Amber Lukas has managed the kitchen for four years, offering guests and locals a varied menu featuring homemade recipes using fresh ingredients.

holland lake

...continued from page 39 summer – as are tempting desserts.

As a detail in a Norman Rockwell painting, a lofty white cake sits magnified beneath a thick glass dome at the end of a vintage log bar. Nearly a foot tall, creamy

peaks are tufted with shredded coconut, and it is conspicuously devoid of a heavy wedge.

Layer cakes, cookies and homemade ice cream are all made to be gobbled daily after lunch or dinner – or with a slug of cold milk and a good book atop a lobby settee.

But cake is practically religion here.

he ephemeral timeline that marks the open and close of Holland Lake Lodge runs from mid-May to mid-October. For two months, guest traffic is light as surrounding foliage and wildlife awaken from spring to summer.

July and August bring weddings – 10 this year, and eight so far next year – along with family reunions and foreign guest lists to rival the United Nations.

In those few short months, visitors from France, Japan, Canada, England and countries beyond descend on the lake – all lucky to stumble on such a place, given the number of Montanans who have yet to see it.

When people ask Christian Wohlfeil how a man of 33 could own such a slice of perfection, he offers the short answer: “I quickly tell them that if this place had privately owned land attached, Bill Gates or Oprah Winfrey would have already beaten me to it,” he laughs.

The long answer is that the prime real estate beneath Holland Lake Lodge is on perpetual loan,

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missoula magazine

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through a special use permit.

It’s all federal land. No private landholding is allowed on any stretch of shore surrounding this lake.

That’s what keeps the place so pristine.

Lucky for him, he says, since he considers this place the most stunning spot outside of Glacier National Park. And, oh yeah, $12 million was out of his price range.

“Let’s face it, there aren’t many places you can walk out on a point, see two snow-capped mountain ranges, a stunning waterfall and virtually no development,” he says. “No other place where you can see all of that and then come inside for a gourmet dinner after.”

Free-lance writer Lori Grannis may be reached at 360-8788 or llgrannis@gmail.com.

Michael Gallacher is a photographer for the Missoulian.

He can be reached at 523-5270 or mgallacher@missoulian.com.

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missoula magazine

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missoula or bust

...continued from page 43 place at 11 a.m. the next day,” Micklus said. “By 11:30 a.m., I signed the lease.”

And a Missoula icon was born.

“I

was just supposed to spend the night there,” Micklus said.

“For me, it was opportunity. All I had left in life was a record collection.”

Micklus had left on a planned 10-day excursion to visit little mountain towns like Bend, but he stopped overnight in Missoula.

“I just totally stumbled into it,” Micklus said. “It’s probably the

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luckiest stumble of my life. That I would be here at the right place at the right time and that my life would end up being centered around Missoula, I can’t think of a better place to live.”

For a few hours in July 1982, Micklus checked out Missoula, then he was off to Whitefish and back to Bend. Within a month, he had packed up his enormous record collection and headed back to Missoula, for good.

T

here are the kind of roots that go way down and are established with generation upon generation living on the same land. And there are another kind of root – ones that come from blind luck and stumbling on the perfect patch of ground.

“I was not looking for what I really found,” Micklus said. “I stumbled into the ultimate living place on earth.”

Today, Micklus estimates that Rockin Rudy’s, a veritable pop culture department store, is 1,000 times the size of what it was when he opened that first shop on Higgins Avenue.

“I refer to it as a cancerous growth,” Micklus said. “Not only were we lucky, stumbling blindly into this space and that, but we were accepted by the community.”

And Jim Caron, who decided to stay in Missoula for a summer back in 1970, now sits in an office in one of Missoula’s coolest buildings. A replica of his VW bus sits on a counter, a reminder of that fateful repair stop.

Forty years later, he recalls the serendipitous steps that have him sitting on top of one of the most unique aspects of life in Missoula.

“A friend suggested we start a theater,” Caron said. “I said what kind of theater?” There was already a community theater and a semi-professional theater out of the university, but the one thing this town didn’t have was a theater for kids.

T

hey say that on a long enough timeline, life comes full circle.

For some of us, it happens a lot faster.

“We were a company of 10 adults and a couple of college kids,” Caron said. “We discovered we had to use kids in roles like ‘Hansel and Gretel’ and for the dwarfs in ‘Snow White.’ ” The Missoula Children’s Theater was born.

“It never struck me that it would be what it was in a million years,” Caron said. “We were 10 to 15 years into it before we realized we had something.”

And that something now employs 150 people full-time and has a $6 million budget, performs in every state in America and on several continents.

Never mind that, though.

“I know of a whole lot of childen who would not be alive today if we hadn’t stopped here,” Caron said. “The world would be a different place, thousands of people would not be involved in theater professionally today.”

of cool places to go, then we come back to Missoula and it’s way cooler than where we’ve just been.”

For Micklus, it’s one long and very pleasant lucky streak.

“I’m not sure Missoula is the best place in the world to live, but bring me your list of better places,” he said, challengingly.

Magic, luck, serendipity or all three, the stories of Micklus’ Rockin Rudy’s and Caron’s Missoula Children’s Theater are repeated almost every day.

“I see it in all the people who wish they could stick around or with the kids who keep coming back,” Micklus said. “Most people I know wish they could find opportunity here so they can stick around.”

And Caron sees it every time another kid comes to MCT. “There is something magical about it,” he said. “Kids work with us for a year, and then they head out for something else and I say, ‘We’ll see you again.’ ” Tim Akimoff is digital director at the Missoulian. He can be reached at (406) 523-5202 or by e-mail at tim.akimoff@lee.net.

Michael Gallacher is a photographer at the Missoulian. He can be reached at (406) 523-5270 or by e-mail at mgallacher@missoulian.com.

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oth Micklus and Caron debate the exact qualities of Missoula that led to their arrival, planting in the soil and the eventual blossoming of their respective enterprises. But neither can think of a single regret.

“I’m retiring in another year,” Caron said. “We keep thinking

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“All agreed that our worst fears were about to be realized. Groups of men began congregating at street corners, discussing the scene and a sort of reverential silence seemed to have settled upon the place.”

Much of the town of Wallace, Idaho, was destroyed by the fire.

Wallace Ranger District

the big burn of 1910

W

...continued from page 53

e know them only as Mr. and Mrs. Swaine, residents of Mullan, Idaho, and survivors of the fires of 1910. We know their story from Mr. Swaine’s handwritten account.

By 3 p.m., the sky became so dark from smoke that bats took flight, thinking night had fallen. Fire brands began to fall on the street, many bearing live fire.

“All agreed that our worst fears were about to be realized,” said Swaine. “Groups of men began congregating at street corners, discussing the scene and a sort of reverential silence seemed to have settled upon the place.”

The wind came toward evening, ferociously and from the south, “carrying the Red Terror toward us,” Swaine wrote. “Night came on with its added darkness. The screeching, fiendish roar of the fire increased. The flames were headed right for us.”

When a train carrying refugees from Wallace arrived, on its way

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to Missoula, only the most frightened of Mullan’s citizens climbed aboard. The townspeople intended to save their tiny community.

Sometime after midnight, they lit a backfire in the path of the approaching firestorm. The tactic worked. The flames were diverted.

But another finger of fire soon followed, and word arrived – by messenger on horseback – that Wallace was afire.

“By 8 a.m., the wind resumed its zeal from the west,” Swaine said. “The fire jumped the river and was covering the ranges west of us and traveling northward. The day was like a horrible night, but through the trying hours was that dread of another even more terrible night to come. All too soon it came, and those of us who witnessed it have termed it the Night of Terror.”

There was now no escape. “In every direction, a mountain of flame faced us,” Swaine said. “One side of a gulch would be aflame,

and in an instant the fire would be borne across to the other side. Those familiar with the location of our little village can, in a measure, picture the scene. Others never can. The mountains so high and steep with the narrow gulches between resembled curtains of fire suspended from the clouds.”

“Every emergency reaches a crisis,” he said. “And when the extremity arises, the last resort is adopted.”

For Mullan, that last resort came when fires had surrounded the town and were crowding to within a few feet of the doors.

Sparks rained like water. The tops of the mountains were a “mighty billow of flame.”

And it was unanimously agreed that the town would surely burn – and with it, the townspeople – unless backfires could be successfully ignited on every front.

It took considerable courage, though, to start more fires when the town was already awash in a sea of flames. A backfire can race up a mountainside to meet a fire front, or it can reverse course and itself become a menace.

But fire was the town’s only remaining defense against the fire. So the men formed a line just a few feet behind the buildings, and at a signal, each started a blaze. In “less time than it takes to relate it,’’ the fires united and burst uphill. There was no escape from Mullan.

“Fancy a deep bowl which is completely lined with seething flames, yourself a spectator in the center, and you can in some degree conceive the scene,” Swaine said.

“Midnight was as light as day.”

But the town was, in fact, saved. Every fire brand was extinguished. Every home was saved, every life protected.

A new day – Aug. 22, 1910 – dawned without wind or fire. With “absolute ruin, destruction and possibly death” staring them in the face, the people of Mullan had drawn upon “the calm, stolid reserve implanted within each soul,” Swaine said.

“We realized as never before how affliction reduces us to a common level. We had all been one united in a single cause, that of saving our all, be it a pocket knife, a home or a fortune.”

“It was a terrible ordeal,” Mrs. Swaine told her husband as night turned to day, “but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Life is short . . . Don’t forget to play!

Guitars Amplifiers Pianos Band Instruments Orchestra Instruments Sound Systems Installation Hearing Assisted Systems Keyboards Disklavier Large Sheet Music Section Band Instrument Repair Rent-to-Own School Instruments Lesson Programs

MORGENROTH MUSIC CENTER 1105 W Sussex Missoula, MT 59801 406-549-0013 www.montanamusic.com

Sherry Devlin is editor of the Missoulian and Missoula magazine.

This story is adapted from stories she wrote for the Missoulian on Aug. 20, 2000, on the 90th anniversary of The Big Burn.

She can be reached at (406) 523-5250 or by e-mail at sdevlin@missoulian.com. missoula magazine

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parting shot

p.s. photo by kurt wilson

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That’s it for now pardner. But, as we trot off into the sunset until that time when our trails cross again, you can track us down at Missoulian.com.

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