Montana State University Books

I had read this book some 40 years ago and thought it was great! Recently I purchased it on Amazon and read it again; even better the second time around. Provides fascinating insight to a time of historical importance to the American West.

I read this book many years ago and then lost my copy of it, so I ordered another one on Amazon. This is the most moving book I have ever read. If you're into non-fiction westerns, this is the book for you. I found the first half a tad slow but the second half was fantastic. To this day, when I think about it, it almost brings tears to my eyes. The story was written from the memoirs of Andrew Garcia, a scout for Custer and tells of his adventures traveling through the west with his native american wives. I loaned this book to a friend and he shares my enthusiasm for it.

I purchased this book for my husband. He enjoyed it and passed it on to other readers.

Stepping Off the Edge: Learning & Living Spiritual Practice
This book's handwritten manuscript was found in a dynamite box in its author's Montana cabin after his death at age 88. Garcia was an original Western settler, arriving in Montana in 1878, one year after the famous Nez Perce Chief Joseph's surrender. If you want authentic Old West, here it is. Garcia tells it like he saw it, favoring neither Native Americans or Europeans. He marries three Indian women (sequentially) and leaves his past world behind. This book has romance, beauty, humor, deadly adventure. Danger. Thrillers come nowhere near this true story. Most of all, Andrew Garcia's soul shines through his writing. What a dear, good man. I wish I could have met him.

A Spanish-Texan quits his job wrangling for the Army in Montana to set out trapping and trading with the Indians. His stories - full of grandeur, intrigue, death and romance - never cease to have a ring of truth.
In Garcia's accounts he is never the hero, but rather the hapless greenhorn who escapes by the skin of his teeth and a generous apportionment of luck.
Written in true trapper/trader/rancher dialect, this book is a joy to read and a pity to finish. I love his insights and Tom Sawyer wisdom, self deprecation, and observations about life with the Indians (and life with whites).

I am always careful about books written by journalists from back East, especially when they deal with Montana's vigilantes. Frederick Allen, however, has made a worthwhile contribution to a controversial field.

I gave him five stars, although I do not entirely agree with some of his conclusions. It seems to surprise him, for example, when Plummer and some of his contemporaries started bouncing off the walls mentally after shooting somebody.

My experience in law enforcement has been that such behavior is normal. There are some sociopaths out there who just like to kill and don't feel any emotion about it, but they are few and far between despite what Hollywood scriptwriters would like you to believe.

This is a well written book, but it didn't change my opinion that the vigilantes cleaned up a situation that had spun out of control at a time when nobody else would, or could. The country was, after all, engaged in a bloody Civil War and the struggling miners in Montana's goldfields needed something to restore order in their isolated, vulnerable communities. Vigilante justice proved to be better than no justice at all.

This amazing book works on three different levels. It is first of all a compelling, action-packed narrative of Montana's vigilante period - carefully researched, engagingly written, and peppered with memorable characters and dramatic action. Western fans will love it. But Allen does not stop there. His brilliant examination of Henry Plummer, the mysterious and elusive sheriff-protagonist, adds deeper and darker shadings to the story. This is less a black-and-white tale of heroes and villains than one about how power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. The author does not trade in the romanticism surrounding the vigilantes. Finally, and most remarkably, Allen's book can be read as an allegory about the uses and misuses of all governmental power. In the nineteenth century, Montana's besieged citizens cried out for help against their version of terrorists -- only to discover belatedly that the response by unchecked governmental authorities could be equally lawless. Who would have thought that the Vigilante Trail led to Abu Ghraib?

People who hate "High Noon" have been known to cite the goings-on in Idaho Territory of the 1860s as proof that an enraged citizenry would never back down from outlaws. According to "eyewitness accounts," a locally formed vigilance committee rounded-up Sheriff Henry Plummer and his bloodthirsty compatriots and, with the aid of lots of rope, soon put an end to the rampant murder and robbery in the gold camps.

While this account made for excellent melodrama, it was a bit too pat to stand the test of time, and of late, had become the center of some arguing and fist shaking in the vicinity of Alder Gulch. Frederick Allen painstakingly examines the players and their times. His conclusions will not please the revisionists nor the vigilante apologists. While the vigilantes started out with the best of intentions and went after the worst of the thugs, their focus was lost in the chaos and power struggles of their era. Like many mavericks, they went from being heroes to embarassments.

But Allen confirms that Henry Plummer, George Ives & Co. were not martyrs of misdirected justice. It's too bad the vigilantes didn't have the forsight to stop while they were ahead.

This is the type of book that gives University Presses a good name. The author is a former political editor and columnist with the Atlanta Constitution and commentator for CNN. He has managed to write a scholarly yet reader friendly book that challenges some standard accounts of the famous Montana Vigilantes and their sometimes extra-legal activities. In what was the deadliest chapter of vigilante justice in American history, from 1864-1870, in excess of 50 men were hanged in Montana. The majority were inocent of capital crimes and a disturbing numer were innocent. This is a riveting book that will, in addition to bringing the reader up to date on a significant chapter in western history, cause one to ponder the significance of the Vigilantes on our current political debate over the war on terrorism. This is first rate scholarship in a reader friendly format. Highly recommended.

One tends to associate the dark legacy of lynching almost exclusively with the South of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, but in point of fact the most extensive episode of vigilante justice in American history actually took place in the Montana territories in the 1860s. The Montana vigilantes have long been hailed as heroes in Montana (Montana Highway Patrolmen, for example, still bear a patch honoring these men and their cause), men who took upon themselves the obligation to rid their community of dangerous individuals. In this thrilling historical account, however, Frederick Allen pries open the chinks in the vigilante movement's historical armor to show that their brand of frontier justice eventually descended into something much darker and much less defensible.

In the early 1860s, Montana was a wild country overrun by thousands of men clamoring for the new-found gold in its rivers and streams. Even as gold camps began appearing overnight, there was no government of any sort to oversee justice - just miners' courts to settle disputes over claims and the like. The nearest outpost of territorial authority lay hundreds of miles west of the Montana frontier. Thus, it is easy to see how lawlessness could prevail under such conditions; it manifested itself most particularly in the form of stagecoach robberies on the paths leading away from town. A man could lose a whole season's worth of gold dust in the blink of an eye, and such hold-ups could turn deadly on occasion. What could the settlers do to secure their safety and safe passage back to the States or elsewhere? There was no legal system in place in the territory, there were no cells to hold prisoners, and there were no courts or judges to adjudicate cases. There was a sheriff, however, a fascinating man named Henry Plummer - and he really stands at the core of the entire drama. He came to be suspected of complicity in the robberies and murders in the area, and this growing sense of doubt in their sheriff served as the final impetus for the leading men of Bannack and Virginia City to take the law into their own hands. Plummer was among the 21 men hanged during the first six weeks of 1864. There will always be a level of debate as to Plummer's guilt or innocence, and Allen examines this fascinating man's life in great detail. The real question is how a man twice convicted of murder could have become a sheriff in the first place, but this speaks to the true remoteness of the Montana territory in those days.

In all, 51 men were killed by the vigilantes over a six-year period. Allen agrees with the consensus opinion that the early stage of the movement was justified, as there is evidence that all 21 of the men lynched in the first six weeks of 1864 were guilty, dangerous men - including Henry Plummer. Were the story to stop there, the Montana vigilantes would deserve nothing but admiration for bringing order and security to their local community. They did not stop, however, and their activities inevitably devolved into acts of personal vengeance and the very perversion of justice. In that first crucial period of early 1864, accused men were given trials of a sort, their fates usually decided by the entire community. Hangings took place in broad daylight, and the identities of the vigilantes were in no way kept secret. As time went on, however, men were summarily executed by individuals acting upon little more than their own authority. With no hope or manner of defending themselves, it is very likely that some innocent men were hanged - and there can be little doubt that many of the guilty had not committed crimes serious enough to warrant death.

As is always the case in history, the most fascinating aspect of this whole story is the lives of the men involved. Allen identifies the vigilantes as leading citizens of the area, an unusual amalgamation of men both for and against the battle for Southern independence being waged during that chaotic time. Politics came to play a significant role in the whole saga, as the appointed leaders of the newly-established Montana Territorial government did themselves no favors by immediately alienating the significant number of Democrats among the local populace. This new government was ineffective at best, with the executive and judicial branches nullifying each other's authority - and this provided the pretext for the vigilantes to continue their operations.

A Decent, Orderly Lynching really is a fascinating book. Allen brings to life the mining camps of gold-rush Montana, recreating all aspects of society there on the remote frontier. He offers penetrating assessments of the men at the heart of this story, those on both sides of the hanging rope, drawing a sharp distinction between the early, honorable activities of brave men determined to establish order in their lawless region and the excesses of those who continued to pursue vigilante justice after Montana's new territorial government had been established. Through it all, he maintains an objective air, making his own judgments based on the evidence in hand - and his research efforts were impressive, to say the least. The story of the Montana vigilantes is a most telling part of the history of America, and Allen has done a superb job telling that story to those of us unfamiliar with it.

The writing style / language is like that spoken in the HBO series Deadwood. A bit hard to get used to but then an interesting read and a very clear glimpse of what it was like in Montana during the 1800's.

After gold was discovered in the Bitter Root Mountains of present-day Montana in 1860, lawlessness followed the rush of miners into the region. Bannock and Virginia City became important centers within the mining districts, and by 1862 were typical western "shoot-em-up" towns teaming with unsavory characters, racked by violence, and basically "removed from the restraints of civilized society" and its laws. It's in that context that the Montana Vigilantes were created, a group that, according to the author, brought order out of chaos by offering "a shield of protection" to the citizens while wielding "a sword of retribution" against lawless marauders. An interesting development occurred in Bannock, however, in that the elected sheriff (Henry Plummer) apparently at the same time was the leader of the most notorious road gang (thieves and murderers) in the territory. Thomas Dimsdale, an Englishman who had gone to Viginia City in 1863 for his health and who shortly after operated the first newspaper published in Montana, wrote a series of articles for his paper about Plummer, his operations and agents, and the work of the vigilantes to bring to justice (often by hanging) these criminals, and these articles were later collected to make this book.

In 1987, a new biography of Plummer by R.E. Mather and F.E. Boswell threw Dimsdale's book into the realm of controversy by declaring a belief that Plummer was innocent of the crimes Dimsdale accused him of and that Dimsdale praised the work of the vigilantes too highly and uncritically. There is no doubt that Plummer had a criminal past before coming to Bannock (he was hanged there by the vigilantes in 1864), having served time in San Quentin for murder. Who is closer to presenting the truer picture is hard to say, but Dimsdale's work is a thrilling and dramatic account, a fascinating narrative that is as lively as a Max Brand western story.

This was first given to me 1976. What I would do with this one, I don't care about vigilantes, I have no interest in Montana, and time is too precious to take it away from the 19th century, my favorite. It suddenly dawned upon me, this is the 19th century, and if someone is going to understand the mindset of the century, you will have to examine the mindset of the whole population. Reluctantly I picked the book up and began reading. Some hours later I set the book down sorry that the author had run out of words.

Thomas J. Dimsdale was an Englishman who settled in 1863 and Virginia City, Montana and in 1864 took over as editor of the Montana Post. The newspapers served as the first publisher in serial all of The Vigilantes of Montana and perhaps some of the writing in this book, some of the romantic element, some of the color of the book is explainable artifact it was first written for the newspaper. In this century that has arisen some question about the true facts surrounding the "villain" of the story. Henry Plummer arrived in the gold camp in Nevada City in 1852 and very soon participated in the wholesome disreputable houses when he saw fit to murder two men. By 1862 former was notorious as a boss of the gang of criminals. In 1863 moved to Montana and news was elected sheriff. This is the story of the vigilantes who tracked down, tried, and executed plumber and his gang of desperados. Some modern researchers who tried to prove Plummer innocent of the crimes for which he was executed.

The author describes this event in colorful detail and very readable narrative as you see in this excerpt:
"seeing that the circumstances were such as embedded of neither vacillation nor delay, the citizenry here, summoning his friends, when up to the party and gave the military command, "company! Forward march!" This was at once obeyed a rope taken from a noted functionary's bed and had been mislaid [more was immediately sent for and soon they were hundreds of feet of good hemp] ....
"The order to `Bring up Plummer' was then passed and repeated; but no one stirred. The leader went over to this `perfect gentleman', as his friends called him, and was met by a request to `Give a man time to pray.' Well knowing that Plummer relied on a rescue on other than Divine aid, he said briefly and decidedly, ' Certainly, but let him say his prayers up here.'"

And, "Soon after, the party formed and returned to the town leaving the corpses stiffening in the icy blast. The bodies were eventually cut down by the friends of the road agents and varied. The `Reign of Terror' in Bismarck was over." The book continues for another hundred and eighteen pages of the same where only the names and places are changed to condemn to posterity the guilty. At the end, the author provides a section of short biographies of the leading players.

This is an easy reading book, well worth what you might pay for it, and whether all of the factual information is an is factual is somewhat immaterial here because it does give a picture of these decades in the West India and Hollywood would be afraid to imagine.

This fascinating document is an account of the notorious "road agents" operating in Montana in the early 1860s during and after the Alder Gulch gold strike. These men took over the towns of Alder Creek, Virginia City and Bannock and ran them as criminal enterprises. Eventually groups of ordinary citizens formed secret vigilante organizations to combat the road agents. Taking the law into their own hands they pursued, shot or hanged as many of the road agents as possible. On Virginia City's Boot Hill there are presently gravemarkers with the names of a number of the men mentioned in the book who were captured and hanged by the vigilantes. Dimsdale, the author, was born in England and took over editorship of the Virginia City paper. Some of the events he witnessed, but more he relates from the testimony of those who participated in them. The accounts are a bit confusing -- they read as newspaper reports and lack a historian's distance and clarity. But they make up for all faults in the immediacy of their telling. This is a very valuable document of life in the old west, and gives an extraordinary sense of what life was like in a raw mining town, too new to have any legitimate law enforcement. Mark Twain cites Dimsdale and quotes him copiously in "Roughing It," his account of his adventures in Carson City, Nevada, and other places in the West.

Dimsdale writes of Montana history in a clarity not often appreciated by some history authors. "The Vigilantes of Montana" brings, page after page, the gold-rush era of Montana Territory to the memory and eyes of the reader. This fascinating text tells the story as my ancestors told of living in Montana during this period. It is an excellent choice for any reader interested in a true account of the romantic and hostile West.

As a volunteer fire fighter/EMT here in southwest Montana, and a wildland firefighter during the summer months, when things heat up in our fire district, I purchased the book for some wintertime reading to start thinking about the upcoming wildland fire season. As I said in my title "A book with an ending you already know.." it is both an interesting and hard book to read, from the standpoint of knowing/wondering what was going through the minds of those smokejumpers as they were trying to outrun an upsloping fire racing towards them. You already know how the book ends, and there is a sadness in reading the book- as a firefighter, we go out enthusiastically to fight these fires, like soldiers going off to fight a war, but in our case, nobody is supposed to get hurt or killed. Every paging tone and deployment is the start of another great adventure, and we never think of what could happen when things go terribly bad. I now understand why that when I go out on out of district deployments(under someone elses control), my local fire chief has us check in as often as we can, to let him know we are safe and sound, and that we not putting ourselves in any unneccesary danger.
When I finished the book, I promised myself to start packing a bottle of "hurricane matches" in the pants pocket of my wildland pants, just like Wag Dodge did, which saved his life that fateful day in August 1949.

All in all, a great book for those trying to understand the human side of the Mann Gulch Fire of 1949.

Dayle Flynn
Firefighter/EMT
Columbus, MT Fire-Rescue Department

As the son of the Range, Bob Jansson, this book had special meaning to me. Although there have been other books written about this fire, this is the only one that I know of that gives the reader a view from the men and families involved. I commend the author for his work and highly recommend this book.

Mark Matthews has written about the Mann Gulch fire before, and avid readers of firefighting literature may readily recognize both his style and the events. But what makes A GREAT DAY TO FIGHT FIRE memorable is its different focus on the people who fought the fire, rather than just strategies and events. Chapters in A GREAT DAY TO FIGHT FIRE focuses on the victim's families and the personal impact of the fire upon firefighters, family members, survivors, and community members: as such it's an essential piece of information key to any collection strong in firefighting literature - and any general-interest library interested in true-life heroism.

The Mann Gulch,MT. fire of 1949 was a seminal point in modern wildfires firefighting for the U.S. Forest Service. The deaths of 13 firefighters caused the Forest Service to implement training programs and develop safety equipment and protocols still being refined today.
Not since Norman MacLean's award winning book Young Men and Fire, published in 1992,has there been a real effort to revisit the fire and never has there been such an authoritative treatment of the personal dimensions of the tragedy as provided by the victim's families, close friends, and coworkers.
This is a heart stopping, minute-by-minute personal account of the men who fought, and died, in a wildfire that has forever remained in the nation's consciousness. The reader that has read both Young Men and Fire and this book will have as complete account of the tragedy as we are ever likely to get.

The author sorts through the major and minor events of Harvard's last hundred years to show how one of the world's great institutions has changed, and been changed by, the twentieth century. Thoroughly researched and written with an emphasis on the telling detail, Harvard Observed should be a treat for anyone with a Harvard connection or an interest in twentieth century history. [Reviewed in galleys]

HARVARD OBSERVED is a cogent and thought-provoking history that belongs on the shelf of every Harvard alumnus or alumna--and also in the library of anyone who is interested in American higher education. The illustrations are well-chosen; the anecdotes are often surprising; and though one comes away with great respect for Harvard, Bethell's warts-and-all presentation gives this book anything but an institutional feel. The book would be worth buying even if one read nothing but the section on SDS's takeover of University Hall in 1969, which is a model of fairness and careful reportage (the author was obviously on the scene). A splendid book throughout

In this book Colin Calloway sums up another cycle in the historiography of the American Indian. The book is arranged topically, and is really more a series of essays than a single narrative. Calloway is even-handed in his approach, avoiding the demonization of both settlers and Indians that have been features of other works on the same topic. Calloway tries to cut through the mythology that has encrusted much of American Indian history and get at the way things really were--cultural give and take, misunderstandings, and accomodations. Overall, an excellent book and a necessary antidote to wrong-headed notions about cultural interactions in early America.

I recently graduated with my B.A. in History and am about to start my M.A. in United States History, and I have never read such a well-balanced and amply researched book, not to mention thoroughly enjoyable to read. Neither colonist nor Native American is deified nor demonized.

I loved how the book was divided by subject rather than chronologically. One is able to read about everything from both peoples' interaction with the beaver population to their views on religion and politics. I highly recommend this book.

"Print the Legend" is an insightful study of the co-development of photography and the image of the American west. Sandweiss begins by discussing the limited uses of daguerrotypes as intermediaries for other forms of visual information in the context of the Mexican-American war and the unfolding western landscape. She goes on to show that as the technology of wet-plate photography developed, so did the direct use of supposedly objective photographs in building the mythology of the western United States. The chapter on photography and representations of American Indians was particularly strong and nuanced.

"Print the Legend" is recommended for anyone with an interest in early photography or western American history. But above all, I found it to be a deep examination of photography and photographic representation.

Heroic cowboys and savage Indians. Homes on the cozy range. Gold for the taking in them thar hills. Print the Legend shows how the first photos of the American West were cropped and captioned to embellish the stories and myths that drew the pioneers westward. Few historians write this gracefully, and Sandweiss's prize-winning scholarship is free from pedantic distractions. The engrossing section on photography and the American Indian is worth the price of this handsome. deliciously intelligent book.

--Michael More, Albuquerque Journal

Even though I know all the writers of this book, I'm still NOT biased when I say that Scotts, et al book has changed interpretation dramatically on the Little Bighorn fight. Having worked at the Little Bighorn Battlefield as an interpreter in 1985, I personally know how this interpretation changed, i.e. before the archaeological digs of 1984-85, most of us believed that Custer's men fell mostly to arrows. We now know that the U.S. soldier's were outgunned, thanks to this field work and as reported in the book. Since Scott's final report, headstones on the battlefield marking where "unknown soldier's" fell have been replaced by actual names, e.g. Mitch Bouyer. This reality came to place thanks to the forensic work of Dr. Clyde Snow (his complete report is included in this book). Finally, Scott and his team create a vivid picture of where the Indian warriors moved over the battlefield fighting for their families down the hill and across the river.

David M. Emmons, in The Butte Irish, examines the development of Butte, Montana, as an Irish town, tracing the story from the Potato Famine to about 1925. He focuses on two major questions: (a) What made Butte such a popular destination for Irish immigrants, both directly from Ireland and from other Irish areas of the US? and, (b) How did the development of an Irish enclave in Butte affect the development of the city? He goes on to examine the evolution of class relations within the Irish in Butte. Emmons describes Butte as a unique location in America for the study of an ethnic community. He argues that the town developed in such a way and at such a time that it was one of the only towns in the country to have a strong working-class, immigrant community in a position of major influence and power. There were several keys that made this path of city evolution possible. The first was the switch from silver and gold mining to copper production in the 1870's. This is key for Butte's "Irishness" on several levels. First, because of the large capital investment required for copper mining, Butte was forced to industrialize to a much greater extent than other major gold and silver mining camps of the West. Thus, Butte was the only one of these mining camps to become a major city. Immigrants from many of these camps came to Butte in large numbers. The timing of the beginning of Butte's copper era is a second major factor. The Irish Potato Famine of the 1840's caused huge numbers of Irish to immigrate to America. In the years immediately following the famine, the Irish were nearly forty percent of those immigrating to the United States. Large numbers of Irish continued to immigrate in the next thirty years, supplying the US with many unskilled workers. Many of these Irish went to the mining camps of the west, the coal mines of Pennsylvania, or the copper mines of Michigan, because mining was one of the only industries they were familiar with. As many of the western mining camps became "played out," or ran out of viable ore, in the late nineteenth century, the Irish looked to the developing Butte. Because Butte was becoming an established city only when the Irish started going there, it did not have a previously existing community of entrenched middle class Americans, nor did it have a prior political structure. This is another key difference between Butte and other towns with sizable Irish populations such as Boston or San Francisco. In pre-existing towns and cities, the middle class often looked down on those of the working class, or at least had control of the political and social structure of the area. It is a well-known fact that Marcus Daly was one of the main reasons so many Irish came to Butte. Daly was the owner of the Anaconda Mining Company, and a strong Irish nationalist. His hiring policies were famous throughout the West, and even in Ireland, as being very generous to the Irish. Emmons lays out these reasons, detailing them extensively. His research was thorough, utilizing "two full carloads" of primary materials including records of Butte churches and Irish social organizations, letters, newspapers. Also cited in Emmons' bibliography are extensive interviews and secondary sources. Emmons is just as thorough in his treatment of the second question. He considers the miners of Butte on many levels. One of the more interesting themes of the book is the discussion of conflicting loyalties within the Irish enclave of the Mining City. The author frames this as the question of whether the people considered themselves "working Irish-Americans" or "Irish-American workers." He examines the politics of the struggling Ireland and its relationship with England, the structure of the Butte social organizations and the way their roles and importances, both absolute and relative to one another, changed and grew during this period, and changing demographics within the Irish and the rest of Butte-Silver Bow. The only complaint to be lodged against The Butte Irish is the author's occasional use of difficult sentence structure. I can't find the quote I was going to use here, but there were a few to choose from. The Butte Irish is a well-written and well-executed account of the development of a town and community, offering many insights into working class ethnography, labor relations, Montana history, and Irish history, among others. Emmons has managed to cover aspects of all these areas, even while maintaining a strong focus and cohesiveness throughout the book.

Funny stories along with the serious war accounts. Fascinating reading