Glacier Centennial: Altyn, a mining boom town

“In its one and only issue, Altyn’s Swift Current Courier on September 1, 1900 observed the high-pitched activity within the ceded strip and headlined: ‘NO DOUBT ABOUT THE PERMANCY AND PRODUCTIVENESS OF THE SWIFT CURRENT MINES.’ And also: ‘THE GROWTH OF ALTYN ASSURED.'” — Malcolm R. Campbell, “Bears, Where They Fought,” in NATURE’S GIFTS.

As you drive into the east side of Glacier National Park from Babb, MT to Many Glacier Hotel on Glacier Road 3 alongside Swiftcurrent Creek, picture how different this valley would be today if the early 1900s mining boom town of Altyn had survived within a strip of mountain wilderness ceded to the U.S. by the Blackfeet Indians in 1895.

Geologists, prospectors, developers and entrepreneurs were convinced that, while the scenery in the valley was lovely and didn’t put food on the table, that a great mining center would develop at the head of today’s Lake Sherburne. The speculators thought they would find enough silver, gold, quartz and oil to put a lot of meals on a lot of tables, and they braved the harsh winter elements and bad road conditions to see if what was under the ground proved to be more valuable than the natural wonder of the place.

Altyn in 1911 - W. T. Stanton Photo, USGS

According to a reporter on the nearby Dupuyer Acantha, “the road up to Swift Current in its present condition has been known to make a preacher curse, and I have my opinion of the man who makes the trip over this road road (!) without breaking the 3rd commandment or perhaps all ten of them.”

It was all for nothing: the mineral deposits weren’t commercially viable. By 1906, only a few people remained in Altyn hoping against hope that the mining shafts and test wells would strike pay dirt. Today, the remains of Altyn–such as they are–lie beneath the water of Lake Sherburne.

Lake Sherburne is a man-made reservoir that filled the valley in 1921 where once there was a forest and several smaller lakes and a saloon and a barber shop and a hotel and a fair number of businessmen who could never imagine the centennial we’re celebrating in the park this year.

Malcolm

The Sun Singer is set in Glacier Park's Swiftcurrent Valley

Glacier Centennial: Caroline Lockhart

Newspaper reporter, bestselling novelist and rancher Caroline Lockhart (1871-1962) was probably the first woman to go over Glacier National Park’s Swiftcurrent Pass. Working for a Philadelphia newspaper under the pseudonym “Suzette,” she came to Altyn, Montana in 1901 and spent the rest of her life in the West.

At the time, Altyn was a boisterous mining boom town in the Swiftcurrent Valley in present-day Glacier National Park, a town its promoters said would soon become the rich center for gold, silver, copper and even oil. (See my essay about Altyn and the Swiftcurrent Valley in the upcoming “Nature’s Gifts” anthology to be released in March.)

In Cowboy Girl, an excellent biography of Caroline Lockhart, John Clayton writes that “Suzette’s arrival represented major news for Altyn, which had been born less than three years previously, when a strip of land was taken from the Blackfeet Indians and thrown open to mining. Altyn’s prospectors believed that within a few years its destiny would be decided: ‘the richest and biggest camp on earth or nothing.'”

By all accounts, Lockhart was ornery, strong-minded, strong-willed, and outspoken. (She called novelist Zane Grey a “tooth-pulling ass!”) Some suggest that her liberated personality kept Lockhart and her novels–several of which were made into movies–from being better known over the long term. Her novels include Me-Smith, Lady Doc, The Man from Bitter Roots, and The Fighting Shepherdess.

Lockhart owned a newspaper in Cody, Wyoming, where she also served as the first president of the Cody Stampede. Her fight against prohibition would keep Lockhart and her paper in the public’s often-angry eye. Even though she came west as a Phildelphia “Bulletin” reporter, she had grown up on a ranch; she found her dream again when she bought a ranch at Dryhead, Montana near the Pryor Mountains. She increased the size of the ranch and became, in her mind, a true cattle queen. The ranch is now owned by the National Park Service as part of the Bighorn Canyon Recreation Area.

In his article “Project Slows Decay at Lockhart Ranch,” Clayton addressed challenges of restoration–historical authenticity vs. practicality–when he noted that “the research also provides delicious evidence of how characters of the past dealt with hardships. For example, Lockhart had an old-style plank floor in her kitchen. She liked the look of it, but mice could easily creep through its gaps. So she kept two bullsnakes in the house to kill the mice. Today, by contrast, the Park Service uses gravel fill beneath the planks to keep out the rodents.”

Lockhart came west via the Great Northern Railway looking for adventure. By all accounts she not only found it but became a part of it. According to a the National Park Service’s Caroline Lockhart page, the aging liberated lady wrote, “There are no old timers left anymore. I feel like the last leaf on the tree.”

Copyright (c) 2010 by Malcolm R. Campbell, author of two novels, “The Sun Singer” (set in Glacier Park) and “Jock Stewart and the Missing Sea of Fire” (set in an imaginary Texas town).