There was a sense of slight unrest in the halls of the Romanesque Revival Victorian mansion as if there was some unfinished business. The faint silhouette of the Copper King mogul sat at the ornately decorated dining room table. The landing of the wide red carpeted stairs was lit by a prism of color reflecting through intricate stained-glass windows. Each room’s décor pointed to the period and style of the Victorian home. History came to life as story after story revealed the characteristics of those who once lived in the lavish rooms. Guests who spend the night in the mansion have a more authentic experience of the life and times of the rich and famous in that era as they get pulled into the historical vortex. It’s easy to sense and imagine the scenes that could have gone on in the household of this wealthy elite family.
The scene was much different in the old western historical inn along the Upper Missouri River. It was the gateway for pioneers traveling to the great Northwest. People of all kinds walked through those doors. Stories are told of the inn being haunted which helps bring the imagination alive. The view from the top of the richly colorful stairway offers a view of the lobby below. Looking down, I could almost see shadows of the past as faint figures of women wearing button up boots, poofy dresses and feathered hats walked by. The door slammed silently as ghostly shadows of men wearing bolo ties, cowboy hats and boots with spurs that jingle entered the room. I thought I caught a glimpse of an old Indian in full head dress sitting on the bench along the wooden sidewalk just beyond the window. Maybe it was just a puff of smoke from a man’s pipe. Weary travelers just arriving from the boat ride up the Missouri merely sought a place to rest and have a meal as they waited to load the wagons headed further west over the rough wild country. Other guests, more elite, drinks in hand, mingled at the back of the inn along the river.
These aren’t just the stories of others. Rather, I find their history intertwined with my own. The Copper King was an acquaintance of my Great Grandfather. He was a frequent guest at the hotel in Virginia City that was owned by my cousins. One family story is that the “Copper King” was sponsored as a candidate for entrance into the Masonic order by either my Great Grandfather or one of the cousins who owned the hotel. After his acceptance into the Masons, he forged relationships that were instrumental in his climb to fame, wealth and shrewdness. Years later, my Great Grandfather went to visit the Copper King who refused to see him or even acknowledge him in any way. Maybe that’s why I had a feeling of unrest in the halls of the Copper King’s mansion.
Another part of my history of that era was that of Mary Furnish, my 2C2R (second cousin twice removed). Her sister, mother and stepfather were among the group of Brannin relatives that traveled to Montana in 1864 (along with my Great Grandfather, Aunt and other cousins). Mary could not make the trip because of illness. The following spring, she headed west to Helena bringing with her the furniture and Steinway piano. She traveled by boat up the Missouri River. The boat could go no further than Ft. Benton, Montana. From there, travelers had to continue their westward journey by wagon. I have little doubt that Mary Furnish entered the very doors I went through as she stepped into the old Grand Union Hotel.
I love to stay in old historic inns or homes that have been preserved to their former glory. It’s not so much the buildings but the foundations upon which they stand – the history and the stories, some of which are woven into mine. It’s easy to be transported to a different world and imagine how it must have looked. Even the sounds come to life. As I think of it, I remember that some of those scenes are even from my childhood – bowlegged cowboys with their spurs reflecting in the sun and Indians along the boardwalks of Western towns.
Whether it’s preserving the past and keeping our history alive, or those things from my memories, each causes my heart to skip a beat.