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Greetings 405 listener!
The 405 airs over KMMR Radio Station. At 5 Minutes past 4 PM. Normally each M-F week day of the year. Here on the website we'll get it posted for you within a few hours, normally.
Your neighbor and website maintainer,
D.J. Rasmussen
Now today and all this week, I have a special treat for all y'all out there. We're gonna be hearing some history, and I love history. But this isn't just any history. This is Montana history and more specifically history that really hits home right here in Phillips County, Montana. This week, I'll be sharing a snapshot of the life of a man who, believe it or not, was known for his snapshots.
OK Solberg:Today and all this week, we're gonna be looking into the life of a man named Christian Barthelmess. Now if the name Barthelmess rings a bell here in Phillips County, I would hope to shout, we actually know many from the Barthelmess family right here from South Phillips County. And what's so wonderfully grand in telling this historical story is this. Oftentimes, when we hear a great story about a great person, we hear it, we enjoy it, but the person was from New York or California or France or Ethiopia. But here we have one that has relatives right here among us.
OK Solberg:Christian Barthelmess is the great grandfather of Chris, Christian Barthelmess, from Malta High School's class of 1975 from my very own graduating class. So Christian Barthelmess, the great grandfather of both Chris and Leo Barthelmess from South Phillips County, was born on 04/11/1854. Now since we're going to talk a little about Leo and Chris's great grandfather, let's also talk a little about their grandfather, Casey. Casey Barthelmess was born 07/18/1890 while his father Christian was stationed at Fort Keel, right there where Mile City, Montana sits nowadays. When Casey was a young man in school, he worked for the LO Ranch, and whenever he could, young Casey studied school books that missus Holt gave him from school.
OK Solberg:He drew pictures of cowboys and horses. One winter he spent on the WL Ranch, which was part of the LO, and this enabled him to attend the short term of school at Powerville, 2 1/2 miles away. He broke two young Bronx that winter by riding them to school and back. In 1909 he decided to be an artist, quit his job, went to Chicago, and enrolled for the winter in an art school. Now remember, this is Casey, not Christian.
OK Solberg:He took along some reproductions of a lively western scene painted by Charles M Russell, and he told his instructor, this is the kind of art I want you to teach me. The instructor said Russell's colors were exaggerated, and his composition was bad. He was so critical of the work of the cowboy artist that before long, the Barthelmess boy transferred to a school in Saint Paul, Minnesota. I would have too, Casey. Now excuse me, guys, but I have to break away from our story just a bit.
OK Solberg:Can you believe it? The art teacher in Chicago criticized Charlie Russell's artwork? Now if that surprises you, it shouldn't. It should make you a little angry or upset, but it shouldn't surprise you. See, life is full of so many opinions.
OK Solberg:It reminds me of doctor Seuss. The story is told that doctor Seuss was rejected 34 times before someone published his first book. A sad part of life listen. A sad part of life is sometimes we need someone great to tell us it's great before we accept something as great. Why can't we figure out great on our own?
OK Solberg:Now imagine if both Charles Russell and doctor Seuss took the first person's opinion and based their continuation on someone's opinion. If the speaker was negative, both Charlie Russell and doctor Seuss would now be unknown. The point I'm trying to make here is this, if and you do something artistic like drawing or painting or writing or musical or anything creative and you think it's good and you keep honing your skills and you keep practicing and someone says, I don't like it, Don't put too much stock in it. If you're honest with yourself and look it over even after criticism and you think, no. This is something special.
OK Solberg:This is something unique. You just keep doing your thing. Don't let criticism break you down. Now I just had to say that. Okay?
OK Solberg:Now back to the Barthelmess story, and more specifically, Christian Barthelmess born in 1854. Listen to what his commanding officer wrote of him, and I quote, an unusual man, this Christian Barthelmess, an excellent soldier either in garrison or field, a fine musician, an honest, industrious, intelligent, and sober man. He's also an excellent photographer. I commend him as fully capable for everything he should represent himself to be, wrote WH Kell, captain, the 22nd infantry at Fort Keosign, 06/04/1891. Barthelmess was studied in music, and he studied music in Bavaria in his youth before immigrating to America.
OK Solberg:And he was acquainted with German literature as well as some of the classics. He was prolific in writing in his native tongue of German and had some of his writings published in a Chicago newspaper in the eighteen eighties. The articles dealt with Navajo Indians, which he encountered when he was on a military reconnaissance expedition in and around the Grand Canyon. And I will add, the Indians called him the shadow catcher for his ability with the camera. One translator of his German script commented that Barthelmess was a master of the German language with flawless grammar and impressive vocabulary.
OK Solberg:Now listen, folks, to this next line, and I quote, he was a reader and a rememberer. Let that soak in. He was a reader and a rememberer. For remember, it doesn't do no good to read and not remember. Right?
OK Solberg:So with the clock ticking and our time running short, let me just remind you to tune in again tomorrow and the rest of the week as we look into a snapshot of the life of a man who was known for his snapshots called by the Indians, the shadow catcher. And, also, remember, this great man isn't from some distant heritage, but the great grandfather of our own Leo and Chris Barthelmess of South Phillips County. When I asked Leo if it was okay to share some on the 4:05 he said, certainly. Then when I added, I'll be sharing all five days about your great grandfather. Leo said gently, you're gonna embarrass me, which I added.
OK Solberg:That's why I asked you first, Leo. I do not wanna embarrass you, but this story should be told. This story should be heard. And after a moment to reflect, Leo said, well, probably it's good for you to do it, Orvin. Then maybe others in our community will share with you some fascinating true accounts from their family history.
OK Solberg:I hope that happened. And always remember this, it sometimes sounds like bragging when it's your own great grandfather, but it's totally honored and respected when it's another person finding this grand significance in the story themselves. And believe me, I have found the grand significance in the story the Indians like to call the shadow catcher. Tune in again tomorrow, guys. So until next time, as you go out there, remember now, don't be bitter.
OK Solberg:Now let's pick up where we left off yesterday. If you tuned in yesterday, you know we're talking about a man the Indians called the shadow catcher for his ability with the camera. We remember from yesterday that his name is Christian Barthelmess and that he is the great grandfather of Leo and Chris Barthelmess from South Phillips County. Born 1854, he enlisted with the army just five months after the Battle of the Little Bighorn, December 1876 Interestingly, Christian Barthelmess is buried in the Little Bighorn Cemetery.
OK Solberg:Isn't that something in itself? What? Yes. Yes. Buried in the Little Bighorn Cemetery.
OK Solberg:He died at Fort Keel in 1906. But when the army abandoned the fort, his remains were transferred to Little Bighorn Cemetery. And if and you don't believe me, check it out for yourself. Walk down one of the grassy aisles between the grave, the aisle that runs from the central flagstaff westward towards the Little Bighorn River and stop in front of the nineteenth marker in the eighth row, and there you will read Christian Barthelmess, chief musician from the 2nd infantry band, died April 10th, 1906. I'll be sharing with you from Leo Leo's book that he lent me titled Photographer on an Army Mule, and it was published in 1965.
OK Solberg:And you can go online and get your own copy if you desire. I checked it out, and there's still some available. Listen. Christian Barthelmess began his western adventure where countless others began theirs at Saint Louis, Missouri. For decades, the main gateway to the new land beyond the river, there on 11/05/1876, Barthelmess took the oath that made him a $13 a month private in the United States regular army, end of quote.
OK Solberg:Now realize, I can only give you a snapshot of the life of Christian Barthelmess, but most certainly, I will strive to be fair and inclusive. Now remember, I wanna whet your appetite, and you too can track it down and get more information. Christian Barthelmess was an army soldier, chief musician, photographer, and writer. He took hundreds, I don't wanna say hundreds, but more like thousands of splendid pictures, which some are reprinted in the book that I read from. His vast collection of pictures taken by the shadow catcher were donated to the Montana Historical Society in Helena, Montana.
OK Solberg:But on the subject of chief musician, let me read you an excerpt from the book, and I quote, Christian Barthelmess left no record to show what the instrumentation of the sixth cavalry band was in 1876. But his son, Casey, recalls that around the turn of the century when chief musician Barthelmess was in the 2nd infantry band at Fort Kio, the equipment included coronet, bass and alto horns, French horn, clarinet, piccolo, baritone, trombone, bass and snare drum, and tambourine. In earlier days, at similar posts, the instrumentation was less complete. Christian Barthelmess was adept with all the instruments, but he particularly liked the alto horn and the tuba, and on special occasions, the French horn. It was his French horn and his viola, which he sometimes restrung so it could be used as a violin, that he was especially fond of at playing at home, end of quote.
OK Solberg:I wanna share this with you folks. I've been aware of military bands, but it was this book that Leo loaned me that gave me a greater appreciation for the military band and the importance of it. It shares that even general George Armstrong Custer reported in some of his writing that the band was playing when they went off into battle, and the band was playing when they returned from battle. Unfortunately for Custer, he didn't return from his last battle. But reading in this book solidified to me the importance of the military band.
OK Solberg:Imagine the motivation given by music. Can you? Now, again, I can't do full justice to the greatness of this man in this story, but let me wet your appetite with words, words written by Christian Barthelmess himself. Now listen. While he was with the Navajo Indians, and I quote, I had long had the intention of visiting the Navajos on their reservation in order to study and to photograph their usages, customs, and dances.
OK Solberg:Since the officers of Fort Wingate had given me the opportunity to accompany them to a medicine dance, I assembled my gear and prepared to join the party. When I reached Fort Wingate, I found that the group had left about an hour earlier, and I mounted an old mag, and I tried to overtake them. About four miles from the fort, I met an old Indian and his Squaw who told me in a wonderful mixture of English, Spanish, and Navajo that the company was about four miles ahead. Spurring my jaded steed to greater speed, I entered a valley just in time to see my friends disappear out the other end. I wasn't more than 10 miles from Fort Wingate, and my horse already showed signs of weariness.
OK Solberg:In spite of all my efforts, I could not overtake my friends. Since their company was composed of seven mounted officers, five soldiers, and two pack animals, it had been easy for me to follow their trail. But when I had followed this obvious trail through the valley and found other tracks which joined in with those I had been following, things became more difficult, especially when other shod horses took up the trail. I followed this trail until about 04:00 in the afternoon when my horse turned off to the left. Since most of the tracks took this direction, I accepted the animal's judgment and rode along for about three miles when all signs of tracks were lost in loose gravel.
OK Solberg:With great difficulty, I picked up the trail further on. My horse lost a shoe and went lame and refused to go on. I took my camera, tripod, and saddlebag over my shoulder and trudged ahead on foot leading my horse. It was already getting dark when I came upon a so called hogan or Indian hut where I found an old death squaw and a seven year old girl. It was impossible to make myself understood because the old woman couldn't hear and the little girl didn't understand Spanish.
OK Solberg:All I could make out was that there was a main road on the other side of the valley, and four miles further on lived a bearded American. I continued on my way and found the main road, but I didn't know which way to go. To the North was a Great Plain, to the South were the mountains. Since it did not seem likely that a pioneer settled in this district would engage in anything but cattle raising, I decided that the bearded American lived in the mountains where wood and water were plentiful. Like a silly slobbian, I fumbled ahead leading my horse by the rains until the beast lay down and, in spite of all my begging and pleading and the lash of a whip, refused to move.
OK Solberg:I did the only thing I could do, unsaddled, made a fire, and prepared to spend the night in the open. Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been neither new nor unpleasant to me, but this time it was most uncomfortable. The temperature was less than warm. A light rain had soaked me thoroughly except for a small saddle blanket. I had nothing to pull on and was also without weapons.
OK Solberg:Because this affair, which I had thought to attend, was a nice occasion, and I was to return shortly. I had left blankets and weapons behind and brought with me only my hunting knife. Since there wasn't much wood about, I made a small fire of brushwood and stretched out on my little blanket, lighting the pipe, which was my only consolation. And there I end the quote with Christian Barthelmess smoking his pipe by the campfire, unfinished for sure, yet enough to understand the conditions and to note that Christian Barthelmess is an excellent writer. Guys, I thought you'd enjoy that.
OK Solberg:I sure did. I hope you can tune in again tomorrow. There's more good stuff to be had. But for now, I better run. So until next time, as you go out there, remember now, don't be bitter.
OK Solberg:If you tuned in yesterday, you know we're talking about a man the Indians called the shadow catcher for his ability with the camera. We remember from yesterday that his name is Christian Barthelmess and that he's the great grandfather of Leo and Chris Barthelmess from South Phillips County. Born 1854, he enlisted with the army, listen, just five months after the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Yes. November 1876.
OK Solberg:Interestingly, Christian Barthelmess is buried in the Little Bighorn Cemetery. Isn't that something in itself? Yes. Buried in the Little Bighorn Cemetery. He died at Old Fort Keogh in 1906.
OK Solberg:But when the army abandoned the fort, his remains were transferred to Little Bighorn Cemetery. That in itself should make you sit up and take notice. Now like I said yesterday, I can't give you a complete account of this great and adventurous and talented man, but I can give you this. Christian Barthelmess was an army soldier, chief musician, photographer, and writer. He took hundreds, if not thousands, of splendid pictures which are reprinted in the book that I read that was loaned to me by Leo.
OK Solberg:His vast collection of pictures taken by the shadow catcher were donated to the Montana Historical Society in Helena. Helena, Montana. And I can also say Christian Barthelmess left no record to show what the instrumentation of the sixth cavalry band was in 1876, but his son, Casey, recalls that around the turn of the century, when chief musician Barthelmess was in the 2nd infantry band at Fort Keogh The equipment included cornet, bass and alto horns, French horn, clarinet, piccolo, baritone, trombone, bass and snare drum, and the tambourine. In earlier days at similar posts, the instrumentation was less complete. Christian Barthelmess was adept with all the instruments.
OK Solberg:Do you hear that? But he particularly liked the alto horn and the tuba, and on special occasions, the French horn. It was his French horn and his viola, which is sometimes restrung so it could be used as a violin that he was especially fond of at playing at home. Now let me share with you this in Christian's own words, some of the things he encountered when he and his men explored the Grand Canyon for reasons of mapping said location. And here are Christian's own words, which he wrote intending to have printed in the Chicago newspaper.
OK Solberg:Listen, and I quote. Paul Linow gave the readers of his the West in the year 1883 an interesting description of what he had seen in the Grand Canyon Of The Colorado. The Atlantic Pacific Railroad brought him within 25 miles of the canyon, but my colleagues and I had to travel on government mules for 450 long and tiresome miles merely to enable us to look into the canyon from above. Naturally, I cannot offer my readers anything in the style of Lindau. But if they have leisure to give attention to the notes and photograph of one whose lot happened to be that of a musician in the American army.
OK Solberg:It shall be of the greatest satisfaction to me, and I shall try my best in what follows to acquaint my readers with the region and its inhabitants. Most of my readers, no doubt, are acquainted with the common everyday mule as he is found roaming throughout the Western States and know how in case of total absence of his regular diet, he can subsist on fence posts, barbed wire, whole tin cans, newspapers, and theater tickets. A government mule has a social standing in the mule world as far above that of the common mule as a congressman is above the layman. As long as a government mule remains at a military post, he belongs to that preferred class which invests in public office. He is an office holder in the fullest sense of the word and that his manger is filled twice a day.
OK Solberg:When a mule goes into the field, his rations are reduced one half. Gradually, by necessity, they are reduced to quarter ration. And then finally, the last particle of corn has become but a memory. And by this time, he, the government mule, feels like a congressman, whose district did not reelect him. He, the mule, not the congressman, now considers himself on the level with the common mule.
OK Solberg:His last vestige of meekness disappears. And if one must handle such mule several times daily for a couple of month months, there are numberless times when one has one foot in the grave, never knowing when the hind leg of his mule will be transformed into the angel of death. So much for the government mule. Should you ever attend an auction, and should an earthquake and a government mule be offered for sale, and should you feel an inner urge to buy something tremendous? Buy the earthquake.
OK Solberg:It needs not to be fed, does not bray, and has no hind legs. And there I end the quote. Don't you love this guy? A professional photographer and musician, but also a writer and humorous. I'm gonna go to the Little Bighorn Cemetery someday and visit his grave and take me a picture.
OK Solberg:Guys, our time is gone. Tune in again tomorrow. I gotta run. So until next time, as you go out there, remember now. Don't be bitter.
OK Solberg:I want you to know that Christian Barthelmess had a dear friend in the army named lieutenant Edward Casey. In fact, Christian named his own son Casey in honor of his friend, lieutenant Casey. So realize with me that Casey Barthelmess is Leo and Chris's grandfather. Christian great grandfather, Casey grandfather. But lieutenant Casey was killed 01/07/1891 at Pine Ridge.
OK Solberg:After his death, lieutenant Getty, commanding officer, led the riderless horse back to Fort Keogh from Pine Ridge in a blizzard with the temperature at 35 degrees below zero. Christian Barthelmess captured the scene in a picture on that cold day in January 1891. When lieutenant Casey's affairs were settled, colonel Slane, commander of the 22nd Infantry, purchased the horse lieutenant Casey was riding the day he was killed. It was a spirited, well bred black. Lieutenant Swain commissioned Christian Barthelmess to deliver the horse to his property in Los Angeles, California area.
OK Solberg:On the journey to California, musician Barthelmess scarcely let the horse out of his sight. From Port Keogh to Portland, Barthelmess had a cot in the corner of the boxcar with the horse. From Portland, the trip was made by steamship, and upon arrival, Barthelmess photographed Swain's wife and daughter with the horse. Lieutenant Casey was riding the day he was killed. As per Christian Barthelmess, his record shows he was in Cuba from June 24 through August 10th of 1898, was appointed sergeant March 18th, 1899 at Camp Ship in Alabama, returned to Cuba in 1899, was discharged and reenlisted for three years on 12/01/1899 at Powell Barracks in Cuba.
OK Solberg:Barthelmess was then on furlough part of the next year, but returned to The Philippines on 10/01/1990, was on detachment service as guard of native prisoners of war, February 6th through the 15th, was discharged and reenlisted at Manila, December 1st Of 1902 as chief musician from principal musician while at sea aboard the American Transport
OK Solberg:Sheridan, applied for retirement at Fort DA Russell in Wyoming, July 1st 1903, and returned to his family at Fort Keogh. The letter that Barthelmess sent through channels requesting retirement certified that his total actual service from his enlistment in 1876 to July 1st 1903 was 26 years and 7 months. Foreign service for 3 years, 8 months and 3 days added to this because foreign duty counted double, gave him an aggregate of 36 years, 3 months, and 3 days in the army. So the shadow catcher lay
OK Solberg:aside his uniform, but not his black box. He kept on taking pictures as he had done long before and throughout his service abroad.
OK Solberg:He was still the musician. He became conductor of Mile City Orchestra, which played for occasions around town. And there I end the quote from page 132 of the book titled, Photographer on an Army Mule, but his son Casey liked better the title, The Shadow Catcher. And I have to I have time left here to share something I've already shared yesterday, but I like it so much. I'm I want you to hear it twice.
OK Solberg:Some of you didn't hear it. Now remember with me that Christian Barthelmess helped scope out the Grand Canyon so it could be put on the map. After his excursion, he wrote for a Chicago newspaper. Listen now. Most of my readers, no doubt, are acquainted with the common everyday mule as he has found roaming throughout the Western State.
OK Solberg:And know how, in the case of total absence of his regular diet, he can subsist on fence posts, barbed wire, old tin cans, newspapers, and theater tickets. A government mule has a special standing in the mule world as far above that of the common mule as a congressman is above the layman. As long as a government mule remains at a military post, he belongs to that preferred class which invests in a public office. He is an officeholder in the fullest sense of the word and that his manger is filled twice a day. When a meal goes into the field, his rations are reduced one half.
OK Solberg:Gradually, by necessity, they are reduced to a quarter ration. And then finally, the last particle of corn has become but a memory. And by this time, the government mule feels like a congressman whose district did not reelect him. He, the mule, not the congressman, now considers himself on a level with the common mule. His last vestige of meekness disappears.
OK Solberg:And if one must handle such mule several times daily for a couple of months, there are numberless times when one has one foot in the grave, never knowing when the hind leg of his mule will be transformed into the angel of death. So much for the government mule. Should you ever attend an auction, and should an earthquake and a government mule be offered for sale, and should you feel an inner urge to buy something tremendous, buy the earthquake. It needs not to be fed, does not bray, and has no hind legs. Guys, isn't that great?
OK Solberg:Isn't that great? Leo and Chris's great grandfather was a great guy and a wonderful writer with a tremendous sense of humor. Tune in again tomorrow as I come to conclusion, and believe me, I saved some great words for the last day. Now I better run. So until next time, as you go out there, remember now, don't be bitter.
OK Solberg:Okay. There. We've done what we can do, and we trust the Lord. Now it's time to continue on here in the story of Christian Barthelmess. If you tuned in yesterday and all week long, you know we're talking about a man that the Indians call the shadow catcher, the shadow catcher for his ability with the camera.
OK Solberg:We remember from yesterday that his name is Christian Barthelmess and that he's the great grandfather of Leo and Chris Barthelmess from South Phillips County. You remember that Leo lent me his book about his great grandfather titled photographer on an army mule. Yes. Christian Barthelmess, born 1854. He enlisted with the army just 5 months after the battle of the Little Bighorn, November 1876.
OK Solberg:And interestingly, listen, Christian Barthelmess is buried in the Little Bighorn Cemetery. Isn't that something in itself? Well, all week long, we've been hearing about Christian Barthelmess. Now let's hear the conclusion. Remember now, he was a musician, a photographer, a writer, and he served his country and with his foreign service, which counts double.
OK Solberg:He had an aggregate of thirty six years, three months, and three days in the army. Pretty impressive. He retired from the army on July 1st, 1903, but yet lived at Fort Keogh, which is where Miles City sits now. He lived at Fort Keogh for the rest of his life. Listen now as I quote from the book titled, photographer on an army mule.
OK Solberg:On the morning of April 10th, 1906, Barthelmess sent his 15 year old son, Casey, to collect some photography bills owed by post personnel. Casey collected what he could and that noon placed the money in his father's hand. That was the last time Casey saw his father alive. Barthelmess had taken a job helping to dig a nine foot deep sewer trench at the Fort Keogh Hospital. At quitting time, while Barthelmess was still in the trench preparing to climb out and go home, the engineer in charge of the job came along and stopped to talk about the work.
OK Solberg:Suddenly, the sides of the excavation caved in. Barthelmess was completely covered, the earth level being four or five inches over his head, as swiftly as possible, his face was uncovered. Then the ground was dug away until ropes could be fastened under his arms, and he was dragged out and laid on the ground. Asked how he felt, he replied, alright. And a moment later, he died.
OK Solberg:There I end that quote for right now. Let's fast forward from nineteen o six to 1951, 45 years ahead, and a friend of Christian, Barthelmess, wrote a letter to his son, Casey. Listen as I quote. I knew your father well, and I happened to be passing by when the accident that killed him occurred.
OK Solberg:I remember something happened inside of me, a deep sorrow to learn that a man so well liked was so abruptly gone. We felt helpless. I spent two years and four months at Keogh. It was there I saw my first Indian, first saw a man die, first learned to ride and shoot and swear, and thrilled at the feeling of companionship when I realized that I was a full fledged cavalryman, that I belonged. I was not a praying lad, but sometimes I said a prayer, and I remember that I did so the day your father died.
OK Solberg:The last time my wife and I took a vacation, something drew me back along the old trail, and so we drove through Montana and past Fort Keogh. I took my hat off when we reached there and got out of the car and stood in silence. I just looked across the plains and imagined that I heard horses snorting the dust from their nostrils. I was sure I saw men riding by in columns of two and heard bugles. Would you believe it, Casey?
OK Solberg:I caught myself reaching in my left shirt pocket for for bull Durham and papers and getting ready to roll a cigarette as I had not done then for forty years. Then my wife said, so this is it? And I said, yep. And we drove on. And there I end the quote.
OK Solberg:And there I end the story of Christian Barthelmess. But, guys, you too can read it. The book is titled photographer on an army mule. With the Internet, it ain't hard to find. And remember his son, Casey, liked the name the shadow catcher better.
OK Solberg:And I think I'm partial to Casey's way of thinking. My hat is off to Christian Barthelmess, and before I end, I got enough time. I want you to know when I read that account the first time to my wife, out of my left eye, I had this big fat hot tear rolling down. See, these stories that have feeling and emotion, I read them. I appreciate them.
OK Solberg:But until I hear them the first time out of my own voice, I mean, that's when it really grabs me. A very great story, very emotional, very wonderful. And Leo, thank you for sharing it with me. Gotta run. So until next time, as you go out there, remember now, don't be bitter.