Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T L Y M O N T A N A M A G A Z I N E • F A L L 2 0 2 1 60 WIKIPEDIA DEFINES FRONTIER JUSTICE as "extrajudicial punishment that is motivated by the nonexistence of law and order or dissatisfaction with justice. Lynching, vigilante and gunfighting are considered forms of frontier justice." Lynching at the hands of a group of self-appointed vigilantes was employed in many mining towns across the Western U.S. in the mid-nineteenth century, in- cluding Montana. With the legal structure of courts, lawyers and judges lagging well behind the growth and the ensuing lawlessness of each gold strike, expe- dience was sometimes the preferred instrument to establish "law and order." This so-called "law," on more than one occasion, was one of hanging individuals based on suspicion alone. However, one cannot deny that some sort of "order" was established, and rather quickly at that. This brings us to Henry Plummer. Plummer has held a central position in Montana lore for over 150 years, becoming a larger-than-life figure as the freely elected sheriff of Bannack who was hung by vigilantes in January, 1864. He had no trial and there was no real, physical evidence to back up the accusations made against him. In those days, suspicion alone, or the wrong political allies, could be enough to earn the donning of a "rope necktie" from the nearest cottonwood tree. Anyone foolish enough to criticize them could also be quickly strung up, so for years only the vigilantes' side of the story was told. Historians at the time painted Plummer as a cold, calculating outlaw who headed an elaborate band of desperadoes, while the vigilantes were heroes, just trying to establish order during the rather lawless times of the mining camps of the 1800s. More recent examination of these events makes it clear much of what was written then was filled with exaggeration and bias, casting much doubt on such simplistic interpretations. If nothing else, Plummer was a complicated man, not given to easy interpretations. It seems people either really liked him or hated him. That distinction usually fell along party lines. Plummer was a self-professed Democrat, and supported the "states' rights" platform of the South, though certainly not their pro-slav- ery plank. He regularly advocated for the rule of law and was publicly against vigilantism. He associated more with those of the lower economic strata, such as miners and other wage earners, and, others would also add, often with those of dubious character. Republicans tended to be the more wealthy business- men in the community. In the run-up to the Civil War, and certainly during the years of that conflict, there was great suspicion, animosity and violence between Republicans and Democrats. The press was openly either pro-Repub- lican or pro-Democrat, regularly slung defamatory accusations at one another, and were often responsible for inciting violence from their followers. This was especially heightened during the Civil War years. Plummer came to Bannack in 1862 with baggage—and I don't mean suit- cases. In 1852, at the age of 19, he left his native Maine for the gold fields in California. After nearly 10 years on the west side of the divide, he arrived in Bannack with a criminal record (murder, commuted) and a bad reputation. Literally, trouble seemed to follow him like a long, dark shadow. The company he kept did little to assuage the rumors. However, Plummer was very charismatic and possessed unique leadership skills that even his detractors admired, and he was readily elected Bannack's sheriff in May 1863. The hours were long and the pay was terrible. It was a job few wanted, but Plummer embraced it—and the standing it gave him in the community. He had even successfully applied to be a deputy territorial marshal, much to the chagrin of his enemies. However, news of his pending appointment unfortunately came too late, shortly after his hanging. "Give "Give me a me a high high drop, drop, boys" boys" FRONTIER JUSTICE AND THE GHOST OF HENRY PLUMMER by DOUG STEVENS

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