Fort Pierre, South Dakota’s oldest organized town, became a community when Joseph La Framboise opened a trading post at the junction of the Bad and Missouri rivers. Fort LaFramboise fizzled out, but in 1832 it was rebuilt as Fort Pierre Chouteau, named for a key owner of the American Fur Company. Chouteau’s post prospered for decades, and the name Fort Pierre stuck. Our May/June issue includes a story on the town and its 200th anniversary. Bicentennial celebrations are planned throughout the summer. Bernie Hunhoff visited Fort Pierre and took several photos. Here are a few extras that didn’t fit into the issue.
Tag: stanley county
Explorers, Cowboys and Indians
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In 1743, French brothers Louis-Joseph and Francois La Verendrye buried a lead plate on a hill overlooking the Missouri River. They were among the first white men to ever lay eyes on the land that became Stanley County. The area has been the site important moments in South Dakota history: a clash of cultures, the resurrection of our national mammal, the birth of a rodeo legend, the filming of an internationally acclaimed movie — and the rediscovery of that historic plate left nearly 275 years ago.
The Verendryes had embarked upon an expedition to discover a vast Western sea. When they reached the bluffs of the Missouri, they claimed the land for France by burying a plate. It lay hidden until the day in February 1913 when Ethel Roberts, Harriet”Hattie” Fister and George O’Reilly went out to play.
“It was a Sunday and it was nice and warm, just a little snow,” Roberts told us in 1989.”Hattie happened to notice something sticking out of the ground. She kicked it with her toe but it wouldn’t budge.”
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| Ethel Roberts with the Verendrye Plate in 1989. She was one of three children who found the plate in a Missouri River hillside in 1913. |
Finally, they pried it out of the ground.”George scraped off the gumbo with his knife and we saw the writing on it. If we had studied our history, we should probably have known what it was. But we just threw it down and went on playing.”
They agreed that George would try to sell the plate for scrap, but on his way home he ran into two state legislators. After recounting his experience, they notified state historian Doane Robinson, who had studied and written extensively about the Verendrye Expedition. He knew immediately that the children had discovered an artifact that proved European exploration of present-day South Dakota much earlier than previously thought. The plate now resides in the Cultural Heritage Center across the river in Pierre, and a monument marks the site of its discovery.
By the time the kids unearthed the plate, the town of Fort Pierre had grown from a remote fur-trading outpost to the seat of Stanley County. The Missouri River fur trade began to gain momentum in the late 1700s, and by 1830 the area around Fort Pierre was a bustling trade center. Fort Pierre Chouteau, named for the St. Louis fur trader, was established in 1832.
By 1855 it had become a military post to serve as a transportation and supply hub for travelers heading west into the Black Hills. That same year, Lieutenant G.K. Warren transformed an old Indian trail heading west from Fort Pierre into a bona fide roadway for Gen. William Harney to use during his fall expedition into the Black Hills. After gold was discovered in 1874 prospectors rushed to the Hills, often along that very same 220-mile Fort Pierre to Deadwood Trail. It became the primary route to the Black Hills until railroads and other modern forms of transportation overtook wagons. In 2008, local historians used GPS devices to map the original trail and staged a 17-day commemorative wagon train.
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| Fort Pierre’s annual Fourth of July rodeo dates to 1822. |
A lot of livestock trod across Stanley County during that ride, but that’s not unusual for a county rooted in ranching and rodeo. The annual Fort Pierre Rodeo, held on the Fourth of July, is said to be the oldest rodeo in the state. The event dates to 1822, when it was simply a series of horse-handling events between Indians and fur traders held at the confluence of the Bad and Missouri rivers that became a tradition during an annual rendezvous. It’s held at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Arena, named for the six-time PRCA saddle-bronc champion who was born in a cabin along the Cheyenne River about 50 miles northwest of Fort Pierre.
Tibbs entered an amateur rodeo at age 14 and won four first place awards. He turned pro as a teenager, and in 1949 — at age 19 — he became the youngest man ever to win the national saddle bronc-riding crown. Between 1949 and 1955, he won a total of six PRCA saddle bronc-riding championships, a record still unchallenged.
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| A virtual bronc at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Center in Fort Pierre simulates an 8-second ride. |
When he died in 1989, Tibbs agreed to give many of his mementoes to his hometown. Today they are housed at the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Center, which opened in Fort Pierre in 2009. The facility also includes an exhibit to trick rider Mattie Goff Newcombe, a cowgirl from Faith who performed dangerous stunts on horseback in the 1920s. There’s a sculpture garden honoring South Dakota’s best saddle bronc riders and a virtual reality bronc that simulates an 8-second ride.
Stanley County has also been where the buffalo roam, thanks to ranchers Fred Dupree and Scotty Philip. In 1883, bison numbers had grown startlingly small. Hoping to help stave off extinction, Dupree captured five bison calves and brought them to his ranch. After his death in 1898, Scotty Philip bought Dupree’s herd and moved them to his ranch near Fort Pierre. The species rebounded splendidly. Travelers can watch huge herds grazing the prairie along the Bad River Road, a 50-mile stretch of mostly gravel that runs across Stanley County from Fort Pierre to the junction with Highway 83 north of Midland. The road passes through media mogul Ted Turner’s Bad River Ranch, which encompasses 141,000 acres that support the largest privately held bison herd in the country.
The world got a chance to see Stanley County on the big screen in 1990, with the release of Kevin Costner’s Dances with Wolves. Much of the filming was done on Roy Houck’s Triple U Buffalo Ranch, northwest of Fort Pierre. In 2015 the ranch was sold to Turner.
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| Fort Pierre historians (from left) Darby Nutter, John Duffy and Gary Grittner help maintain the Verendrye Museum, a shrine to pioneer cowboys. |
Stanley County itself dates to 1873, just before it became a busy hub for travel further west. The county was named for David S. Stanley, commander at Fort Sully, a military outpost that had originally been built in 1863 about 4 miles below present day Pierre on the east bank of the Missouri. Its main task was to protect settlers from Indians. When Stanley took command in 1866, the fort was abandoned due to its low and wet location along the river. Stanley moved the fort 23 miles northwest along the river and became home to the 22nd U.S. Infantry from 1866 to 1873.
During his time at Fort Sully, Stanley grew to respect the local Indian tribes, working with missionaries like Father Pierre Jean De Smet to gain their trust and actively working to achieve peace between them and the U.S. government. Stanley served at Fort Sully until 1874, and the fort itself was finally abandoned in 1894.
Relations between Natives and non-Natives in Stanley County got off to a rocky start. During their exploration of the Missouri River, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark had a tense meeting with the Teton Sioux at the confluence of the Bad and Missouri rivers. For four days, the two sides teetered between war and peace.
Communication was the main impediment. They could only speak through rudimentary sign language and the limited knowledge of Pierre Cruzatte, a member of the expedition who understood the Omaha language, but very little Lakota. On their first day there, the two sides exchanged gifts, as was customary, but then things went awry. One of the head tribal men drank half a glass of whiskey and nearly started a fight with Clark. When Clark and a few other men reached shore in a pirogue, several Indians grabbed its mooring cable and refused to let them return to their keelboat.
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| The frames of seven tipis stand on the grounds of the Wakpa Sica Reconciliation Center, a project meant to build bridges between Natives and non-Natives but was stymied after the loss of federal funding. |
Lewis ordered in armed American reinforcements, while Indians lined the shore with bows and arrows. But tensions eased, and the next day the two sides enjoyed a great feast. The roller coaster continued until Lewis and Clark left.
The language barrier was a major obstacle, but had the explorers brought Pierre Dorion it’s possible much of the tension could have been eased. They met Dorion, a fur trader who had spent years living in the area and was fluent in the local Native language, when the party passed present-day Yankton. But instead of adding him to their crew, they dispatched him to Washington, D.C., to present a report on the area to President Thomas Jefferson. Clark lamented Dorion’s absence in his journal entry for Sept. 25, 1804.”We feel much at loss for the want of an interpreter,” he wrote.”The one we have can Speek but little.”
There have been ups and downs ever since, but perhaps hope lies within the Wakpa Sica Reconciliation Center. Established in 2000, the center is meant to improve relations between Natives and non-Natives, set up an intertribal justice system and create economic development opportunities. The campus includes seven tall tipis constructed on the prairie north of Fort Pierre, each representing one of the seven Teton Sioux bands, or council fires. But unfortunately that is as far as the project has gone. Federal funding withered several years ago and development at Wakpa Sica stalled, but tribes have shown interest in reviving the idea. Even though two French brothers once claimed this place belonged to the French, it might help show that Stanley County can be a welcoming home for everyone.
Editor’s Note: This is the 24th installment in an ongoing series featuring South Dakota’s 66 counties. Click here for previous articles.
Verendrye Drive
Deb Eich shared these photos from a trip along Verendrye Drive near Fort Pierre last Saturday. View more of her work at lifescapephotos.blogspot.com.
West River’s Fleeting Fall Color
The colors of fall can be elusive in a predominantly prairie state like South Dakota. Our national forests are mostly made up of evergreens. Autumn winds can blow relentlessly through the rest of the trees as winter’s long arm begins to creep down from the north. Wild weather swings, as evidenced by this past week’s brutal snowstorm on the west side of the state and tornados clipping the southeast corner, don’t help autumn’s splendor stay around for long either. To me, fall’s fleeting nature is what makes photographing its beauty so fun and fulfilling.
This year, I was able to break away from the normal routine to spend a few days searching for autumn color. From Sunday, September 29 through Tuesday, October 1, I made a wide circle through some of the prettiest country our state has to offer west of the Missouri. Last year, I discovered that the valleys and draws of the Sage Creek Wilderness offer some unique fall scenes with the Badlands as a backdrop. I got there maybe a week before the trees were in prime color, however, I found that the early morning sun backlighting the leaves brought out fall’s tints anyway.
My next stop was the northern Black Hills. This area contains two of the most scenic canyons in the state and they are particularly beautiful when dressed in autumn’s hues. Vanocker Canyon Road between Nemo and Sturgis is a short but beautiful drive. Spearfish Canyon’s scenic highway is also a must see during this season. At Savoy, you can get out and hike to waterfalls, alongside creeks and nature areas that will take your breath away.
Around a hundred miles north and a little east of the Black Hills is the furthest eastward unit of Custer National Forest. This narrow band of trees grace the tops and sides of the Slim Buttes of Harding County. I have seen and been impressed with other photographers’ images of that area taken in the fall and always wanted to go and experience it myself. I’m glad I did, as there are views and vistas that had me saying”wow” out loud. I’m not kidding. After only allowing for an afternoon’s visit, I was kicking myself for not allowing the whole weekend to explore. It’s that good.
On the way to the Slim Buttes, I stopped off in the Hoover, SD area to shoot the South Fork of the Moreau River. I grew up near the Moreau River proper around 90 miles to the east of Hoover so this landscape of cut banks, cottonwoods and cattle made me feel like I was home again. After spending the night in Isabel, I made an early morning stop at Little Moreau Recreation Area south of Timber Lake. This relatively wide and scenic creek valley in the middle of the prairie is thick with trees. I had never witnessed what it looked like in the fall before this year. The early morning view was not a disappointment. I had arrived a few days before prime colors, but the scene was still impressive. As a photographer, I’d rather catch fall early than late as the remaining greens can contrast nicely with the autumn’s yellow, oranges and reds.
My last stop was the Foster Bay Road of extreme northwest Stanley County. Here the draws were in full autumn splendor. I found bright reds in the thickets and rich oranges and yellows along the hillsides. I spent a good hour, just taking it all in. A lot of miles lay behind me, but viewing these last bursts of color before the dull and muted hues of winter arrive was truly a blessing. Yes, fall is fleeting in our great state, which means catching it even for just for a moment is a treasure. It’s a good life lesson, really. Life is fleeting, but there are moments and experiences that stand out in vivid color. Enjoy those moments, take pictures and treasure the views!
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.
Duffys Lock the Chateau Door
Pierre and Fort Pierre are not lacking for institutions, but South Dakota’s twin cities lost an important one this week when octogenarians Ed and Pat Duffy closed The Chateau Bar & Restaurant.
Ed is ill and Pat is supervising a nutrition program at the Community Center that provides more than a hundred meals a day to seniors in Fort Pierre. They had to give up something. The cowboys and politicians and bureaucrats are the losers.
Much state business and more than a few political compromises have been hashed out through the years at the Chateau and the nearby Silver Spur, a legendary watering hole started by Irish O’Leary in 1949. “Every great project, public or private, in central South Dakota had roots in that restaurant and a better man I’ve not seen in my lifetime,” said John Duffy, a local attorney and Ed’s nephew. “The Chateau was the home of South Dakota’s rodeo, horse racing and ranch cultures as well the blue-collar workforce.”
The O’Learys and Duffys gave the cow town an authentic Irish flavor. Pat Duffy worked for O’Leary before she married and partnered with Ed at the Chateau. “He taught me that if you have a problem, you make the problem leave,” she said. A “problem” is her politically-correct language for a problem customer.
She believes the Chateau prospered because Ed knows beef. “He did his own meat,” she said. “People would keep coming back for the the filet and the chicken fried steak, and the onion rings. They were always good and they were always the same.”
Before it was the Chateau, Ed ran Duffy’s Cafe from the 107-year-old brick building. That was during the Truman administration. He added an addition when he started the Chateau.
The big Duffy family gathered at the restaurant for a farewell dinner before they locked the front door.
But traditions die hard in Fort Pierre. A half-block away, carpenters are working on renovating the Silver Spur, which as been shuttered for several years. A local entrepreneur, Buell Mayberry, intends to reopen it soon.
And Pat says someone else is interested in possibly reopening the Chateau as a bar or restaurant.
That’s good news for local politicians and bureaucrats. There are never enough private nooks and crannies for deal-making in Fort Pierre or Pierre.
Central South Dakota’s Playground
“Fort Pierre has become central South Dakota’s playground,” says attorney John Duffy.”I don’t want to say that nothing fun ever happens in Pierre, but it’s hard compete with everything we have here.”
The town has the Stanley County fairgrounds, a youth center, a hockey rink and gymnasium. Horse races, rodeos, bucking matches, circuses, concerts and numerous other events are held there. The Missouri River draws boaters and fishermen.
Fort Pierre’s nightspots enjoy a reputation for being the scene of late-night political hijinks and compromises during Pierre’s annual legislative sessions. Since Fort Pierre operates on Mountain Time, it was once a tradition for some lawmakers and staffers to cross the river at 1 a.m. to continue their revelry. Mountain Time is still observed in the city after midnight, but earlier in the day townspeople generally set their watches to Central Time to stay in step with Pierre.
A less rowdy gathering spot is the Casey Tibbs Rodeo Center. It includes the Mattie Goff Newcombe Conference Center, a hilltop meeting facility that offers an expansive view of the Missouri River and the capital city of Pierre.
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| Rodeo legend Casey Tibbs in action. |
Tibbs is still regarded as one of the top rodeo stars of all time. Much of his memorabilia is on exhibit at the center, along with exhibits from South Dakota’s other national champs as well as other rodeo characters.
Mattie Goff Newcombe was a famous trick rider in the 1920s. She perfected the Back Drag, a dangerous stunt in which she placed her feet in loops on either side of the saddle and then bent over backwards until her hands dragged on the ground.
She and her husband, Maynard, ranched for many years along the Cheyenne River. After she died in 2005 at age 98, a bequest from her estate made it possible for the Tibbs museum to finally become reality after 20 years of planning.
“Casey’s the reason it got started,” says Dayle Tibbs Angyal, Casey’s niece and a longtime board member,”and Mattie’s the reason it got finished.”
For information on the rodeo museum, call 605-494-1094. To learn more about Fort Pierre’s attractions, contact the Pierre/Fort Pierre Chamber of Commerce at 605-224-7361.
Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 2010 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.
Discovering The Verendrye Plate
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| Hattie Foster, center, and George O’Reilly, right, were two of the young people who found the Verendrye plate on the hills above Fort Pierre. Also shown is Leslie Stroup, left. South Dakota State Historical Society photo. |
Two hundred and seventy years ago, French explorers named Verendrye buried a lead plate on a hill. They were among the first white men to set foot in a land that would later be known as South Dakota.
One hundred years ago, Ethel Parish and two friends found the plate while playing on a sunny February day on a hill over Fort Pierre. Their discovery caused historians to rethink their accounts of white man’s arrival in this region. The plate captured the imaginations of South Dakotans then, and it has remained one of the state’s most treasured museum pieces ever since.
When we visited her in 1989, Ethel Parish Hepner Roberts remembered the day well. She was enjoying an afternoon outdoors with Harriet”Hattie” Foster and George O’Reilly.”It was a Sunday and it was nice and warm, just a little snow,” she recalled.”Hattie happened to notice something sticking out of the ground. She kicked it with her toe but it wouldn’t budge.”
Their curiosity piqued, the youths dug until they unearthed a flat, rectangular plate.”George scraped off the gumbo with his knife and we saw the writing on it. If we had studied our history, we should have probably known what it was. But we just threw it down and went on playing.”
The three agreed that George would try to sell it for scrap at the local print shop, where lead was always in demand for the hungry letterpress. Fortunately, on his way home that Sunday evening, he crossed paths with two state legislators, Elmer Anderson of Willow Lake and George White of Kennebec. George told them about the unusual plate and together they returned to the hill and brought the mysterious piece to town.
Doane Robinson, superintendent of the State Historical Society, was promptly notified. Mr. Robinson, a noted historian and researcher, had studied and written of the La Verendrye expedition. Almost immediately, he recognized the origin of the dirty tablet.
“On Monday, some men came to our schoolhouse and took us to the Sylvan Hotel in Pierre, where they questioned us about what we found and how we happened to find it,” said Mrs. Roberts. She did not recall who asked the questions, but one of the men was surely the inquisitive Mr. Robinson.
Historians had long disputed the route of the famous La Verendryes. Some claimed the explorers never came as far south as present-day South Dakota, but Mr. Robinson argued that they had. Of course, he felt his version of the Verendrye route was proved by the physical evidence of the plate, which was mentioned in a journal kept during the expedition.
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| One side of the historic artifact. |
The journal entry states,”I placed on an eminence near the fort (their camp) a tablet of lead, with the arms and inscription of the king and a pyramid of stones for Monsieur Le General; I said to the savages, who did not know of the tablet of lead I had placed in the earth, that I was placing these stones as a memorial of those who had come to their country.”
As news of the schoolchildren’s discovery was publicized in 1913, it rekindled interest in the dramatic events that led to the settling of the West. Since the plate identified a major landmark of the Verendrye travels, historians reopened their files on the exploration. Still, controversy continued. Some said, for example, that the plate may have been discovered in the 18th or 19th century by Indians and moved to the Fort Pierre hilltop.
Mr. Robinson minced no words in responding to that theory. He wrote, “To suggest that this plate might have been planted at a distant point, recovered by Indians and carried to the mouth of the Bad River (at Fort Pierre) there to be fortuitously dropped upon this eminence (Verendrye Hill) precisely complying with the conditions of the record is a refinement of criticism approaching absurdity.”
History books written since that sunny February Sunday in 1913 note that while the Verendryes were probably not the first white men to arrive here — most historians believe French fur traders made brief excursions within the state’s borders perhaps as early as 1679 — the three children’s discovery provided a marker that symbolizes a new era on this part of the Western prairie.
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| In 1989, Ethel Parish Roberts had a chance to hold the plate for the first time since 1913. |
Finding the plate had little impact on Ethel Parish’s young life. It was just another episode in an adventure that began in 1905 when her parents, Ivan and Amanda Rosetta Parish, came from Wisconsin to South Dakota. Her father worked for the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad and he accepted an assignment as stationmaster and track repairman at Teton, South Dakota. After a few years at Teton, Mr. Parish filed as a homesteader on a claim near Hayes. By 1913, the Parish family had moved again, to the cow town of Fort Pierre.
She and her five brothers and sisters enjoyed their freedoms, They picked wild plums, grapes and buffalo berries. They found two coyote cubs and played with them just as if they were dogs, “until they got older and grew mean. One day they just disappeared… imagine my father had something to do with that.” She remembered picking wildflowers that grew in the hills — but not the gorgeous blooms on the cactus. “They were untouchable, we learned that.” She and the other children watched cowboys load and unload cattle at the stockyards, and one of the men taught her to speak some of the Sioux language. At age 90, she still remembered how to count to ten in the Dakotas’ native tongue.
With all the excitement of pioneer living, Ethel Parish didn’t give a lot of thought to the lead plate she had found with her friends. Shortly after the discovery, her father moved the family south to Vilas, a tiny Miner County town. She got a job in Bill Hepner’s general store and soon their relationship blossomed beyond employer-employee. Bill and Ethel married in 1916 and they honeymooned by auto in the northern Black Hills, at a time when the mountains were not yet accommodating to tourists. Together, they ran the Vilas store, selling groceries, farm implements, hardware and even friction-driven Metz automobiles. Bill was also the postmaster and he operated the telephone exchange. As their four children grew older, they helped run the family business, “especially the candy counter,” she chuckled. After Bill died in 1969, Ethel continued to serve as the Vilas postmaster for several years. In 1971, she married Levi Roberts, a longtime family friend. He died in 1974 and she lived alone at Vilas until she moved to the Good Samaritan Nursing Home at nearby Howard in the mid 1980s.
Ethel never saw friends George and Hattie after she left Fort Pierre as a 14-year-old. When the South Dakota State Legislature appropriated $700 to purchase the Verendrye plate from the finders, no one knew where she’d gone. The money was awarded to the others — George received $500, Hattie just $200.
Ethel also lost credit for the find. Although townspeople knew there was a third teenager on the hill, the name was not always remembered accurately and other Fort Pierre youngsters occasionally were listed with George and Hattie. She was not invited to a 1933 dedication in Fort Pierre of a monument marking the spot where she had found the Verendrye plate, nor was she in attendance at a 1943 ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the Verendrye expedition.
The state’s lack of interest in her association with the discovery meant little to her, she said. But when Ethel’s children grew to adulthood and found their mother was not being properly recognized for her role, they told state officials of the mix-up. Today you can see the Verendrye plate that Ethel, Hattie and George found so long ago at the Cultural Heritage Center in Pierre.
Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 1989 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.
The Buffalo vs. the Bull
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| Folks from both sides of the border gathered to watch the contest between Scotty Philip’s buffalo and a Juarez fighting bull. |
There’s no one quite like a four-year-old for pondering the imponderable. My grandson Little Jack once asked me if a saber-toothed tiger could beat up a Tyrannosaurus rex. I told him I’d have to think about that, but I did know that a South Dakota buffalo could beat up four Mexican fighting bulls. At least that’s what happened in Juarez, Mexico in 1907.
Scotty Philip, the well-known Stanley County cattleman and buffalo fancier, was in Texas on a fall buying trip and encountered a couple of sports from Juarez who were given to loud and repeated boastings about the stamina, fierceness, and fighting heart of the sharp-horned bulls they bred for combat in the bull rings of that country.
In response to this chauvinistic yammering, Philip politely suggested to the boastful Mexicans that he had, on his ranch, any number of ordinary buffalo that by damn could mop up the ring with the finest of those so-called fighting bulls. He furthermore offered to ship one or more of these buffalo to Juarez to prove his point and solidified his proposition with a substantial wager.
The Mexicans had seen only pictures of buffalo, and the prospect of one of the awkward, shaggy creatures challenging their fast-stepping, muscled beasts of destruction translated to them as an unprecedented opportunity for mucho dinero. Philip’s sporting proposition was quickly joined, and arrangements were made for publicity and use of the Juarez bullring.
Unfortunately, a severe blizzard required Scotty Philip’s presence on the ranch that January, so he was unable to make the trip to Mexico. In his stead, he dispatched his nephew, George Philip, to look after family interests and those of the local community, which had accumulated a sizeable pot to be wagered on behalf of the buffalo. Cowboys Eb Jones and Bob Yokum were sent along to tend the livestock.
From his ranch near Ft. Pierre, Scotty Philip selected two run-of-the-herd buffalo bulls, an eight-year-old and a four-year-old, for the contest. He called the older one Pierre; the name of the other isn’t recorded — Murdo, perhaps. The bulls were loaded into a specially reinforced boxcar, and the entire party made the trip to El Paso and across the Rio Grande to Juarez in seven days, amidst a generous amount of en route hoopla due to the advance publicity and general interest in the outcome of the matchup.
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| Stanley County matadors? George Philip and fellow South Dakota businessmen posed in the ring after the famous fight. Photo from S.D. Historical Society. |
When they got the buffalo to the bullring on the designated Saturday, George Philip (according to his account of the trip in South Dakota Historical Review thirty years later) and company were surprised not only at the size of the facility, but at the number and fervor of the partisans from both sides of the border who had gathered for the spectacle.
When Pierre ambled out into the arena, the crowd emitted a buzz of anticipation. But the buzz became a groan as the shaggy bison reached the center of the ring and, tired from his long trip, calmly flopped himself down. Then there was a great reverberating roar as the Mexican bull was turned into the ring. Enraged by the darts that had been plunged into his shoulder to enhance his fighting spirit, the snorting, pawing bull launched himself at the unkempt mound in the middle of the arena like some 1,500 pound juggernaut from hell.
Pierre managed to get to his feet in time to take the bull’s charge head-on. There was what sounded like an underground explosion, and the dust cleared to reveal the unmoved Pierre stoically contemplating a surprised and slightly dazed bundle of bovine bewilderment that had been bounced back a rod or so from the point of impact.
But the bull’s momma hadn’t raised any dummies; after all, hadn’t he a pair of sharp horns that could slice this upstart’s liver right out of his body? So he sidestepped to a position that gave a clear shot at the buffalo’s uncovered flank, lowered his head and charged in for the vivisection.
Alas, the bull’s momma hadn’t told him about a major difference between bulls and buffalo; namely, that buffalo turn on their front, rather than rear, legs. This ability allowed Pierre to pivot at the last minute and once more absorb the bull’s charge with his massive skull plate. And this time, the buffalo put some thrust behind powerful counter-blows.
After the final encounter had brought him to his knees, the once-fearsome fighting bull fled to the nether regions of the arena and tried to climb out of the ring. Failing that, he could only stand shaking as the catcalls and imprecations of the angry crowd rained down.
Claiming a fluke, the Mexican breeders called on George Philip to allow them to try one of their “best” bulls against the buffalo. Ever willing to go the extra mile, George agreed; and a fresh contender — sinewy and belligerent as the first bull — roared out of the corral directly at Pierre, who stood patiently at ring center. The outcome was the same as before: no matter from which direction the bull charged, he was met head-on.
This scenario was replayed that afternoon with yet two more bulls — and to the same end. By the time the sun had started to sink behind the stands, four battered and shaking Mexican fighting bulls huddled in the shadows by the west wall while the pride of Stanley County rolled contentedly on his back in the arena sand. George Philip offered the younger buffalo in combat the next day, but all the heart had gone out of the Mexican breeders, and they declined. For them the question had been settled, and they had no desire for any further decimation of their prize stock.
It would be nice to report that the buffalo were given heroes’ welcomes back home; but because of transportation costs, they were sold in Juarez. One hopes they were used to enrich the fighting bull genetic strain, but the likelihood is that the burrito might have been replaced by the buffalito as the fast food mainstay in old Juarez for a time.
Later that year Mr. Scotty Philip founded the town that bears his name. His nephew, George, eventually became a respected lawyer in Rapid City. Eb Jones served as a Stanley County commissioner, and Bob Yokum has evidently been lost to history.
As I told my grandson, a South Dakota buffalo might have a struggle with old Tyrannosaurus rex, but I’m sure he’d give a sabre-toothed tiger all the fight he wants, and then some.
Editor’s Note: The author, Jim Dickson, is a Sturgis native who currently lives in St. Paul, Minnesota. This story is revised from the March/April 1995 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a back issue or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.
The Booming Grounds
I never liked chickens all that much. Live chickens, that is. I’ll happily dine at KFC when the mood takes me, and what would breakfast be without eggs scrambled or over easy? What I mean is that the chicken coop doesn’t bring up very good memories for me. First of all, I was deathly scared of one of the meanest creatures on earth: the cackling hen sitting atop her clutch of eggs. I seem to remember beaks like curved scimitars awaiting my outstretched hands as I reached for those eggs. Of course, a seven-year-old’s imagination tends to greatly exaggerate reality as I can’t ever remember getting pecked. As I grew older, the dreaded chore of cleaning the coop was added to my resume. There are not a lot things that smell worse than a ripe chicken coop on a hot summer’s day. I’ll kindly spare you the details.
Why this reminiscing about chickens? Well, I did something early in April that I have never done before and it involved chickens in the wild. Greater Prairie Chickens to be exact. The good folks that manage Fort Pierre National Grasslands set up three blinds during April and May to view the”booming grounds” or”leks” that the prairie chickens use to dance and woo their wily hens. Sharp-tailed grouse also use the high flat areas in the grasslands to display and attract mates. I recently got a new telephoto lens and thought this would be a perfect opportunity to try it out. I wasn’t disappointed.
As the sun came up, the sounds of the roosters scuffling, dancing and”booming” filled the air already accented by the happy song of the meadowlark. It truly is one of nature’s wonders that everyone in the state should experience in real life. Don’t believe me? The dance of the prairie chicken has inspired the”chicken dance” in Native American culture. The dance also has some really interesting stories associated with it. In one of the stories attributed to a Crow legend, Old Man Coyote created the prairie chicken to show the rest of the animals how to dance. A Blackfoot legend tells of a hungry hunter who kills and eats some prairie chickens only to have the birds’ spirit return to him in a dream to tell him he must learn the chicken dance or he would be killed by the angry spirits of the chickens he murdered. The story I like the best is how a warrior was out hunting on a foggy morning and climbed to the top of a hill to wait until the fog lifted. He soon fell asleep. When he woke up he was surrounded by dancing prairie chickens. He watched and learned the dance and taught it to his tribe.
Our family friend and photographer, Stu Surma, who now resides in Java, SD told me of his experience shooting photos of the sharp-tail dancers on a lek near Isabel when a coyote jumped the party looking for breakfast. Stu told me that he was quite annoyed with the coyote and wished he had a rifle handy. The closest thing I saw to that kind of drama was a large hawk flying low over the lek on the second morning I was in the blind. All the grouse and half the prairie chickens scattered. Within the next 10 minutes all were back and dancing again. Not to say there isn’t drama to the dance. The males carve out their little areas and when they aren’t dancing, they are squabbling over the borders with their neighbors. What was really interesting was that the grouse and chickens who share the same leks fight like this as well. I witnessed a grouse defend his ground all morning against prairie chickens larger than him. I nicknamed him Little Jerry from one of my favorite Seinfeld episodes and found myself cheering him on silently. When Little Jerry and the rest of the crew flew off at about 9 a.m., the show was over. But what a show it was. Was it wrong that I enjoyed fried chicken for dinner later that day?
If you are interested in reserving one of the blinds, you can call the Fort Pierre National Grassland Office at 605-224-5517 to set up your reservation and receive information regarding grouse blinds and maps showing the location of your reserved blind.
If you can’t make it to the National Grassland in person, have a look at Christian’s video of the prairie chickens in action.
Prairie Dancers from Christian Begeman on Vimeo.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog.
Chicken Dance
Spring has sprung and love is in the air. Well, it’s hormones really and now’s a great time to see the mating dance of the prairie chicken. I asked outdoor photographer Les Voorhis and he said the best place to view them is Fort Pierre National Grasslands.”They have blinds you can reserve on prairie chicken leks and [Fort Pierre National Grasslands has] one of the highest population densities in the state,” Voorhis says.
What is a lek, you say? Oh, it’s just the name for an assembly area where animals carry on their courtship behavior. The area looks no different than the rest of the prairie until the birds get together and start strutting around. Lek can also be used to describe the group of animals courting. During courtship, the males inflate air sacs on the sides of their necks. They also emit a very distinct call that you can hear in this video.
Three blinds are available to use at no charge on the Grasslands’ leks. You can make reservations for viewing times in April and May. The 8-foot long, plywood structures hold up to four adults and have small square windows for viewing and photographing. Blinds aren’t insulated, so dress accordingly for crisp morning air. You’ll want to get to your viewing spot a half hour before sunrise. If you arrive late, the birds will see you, flush, and may not return that day.
Call the Fort Pierre National Grasslands at 605-224-5517 to secure your spot. They’ll send a map so you know where you’re going. Ruben Mares, Wildlife Biologist with the Fort Pierre National Grasslands, recommends finding the blind the day before your viewing time. It can be hard to locate before the sun comes up. Mares says if all three blinds are full there are still several places people can view the birds from a distance. Just call the Grasslands office and they will recommend locations.
