Distinctly Montana Magazine

18 D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA N A M A G A Z I N E • W I N T E R 2 0 2 3 - 2 4 the bar in the saloon, made of a single fifty- foot-long slice of Douglas fir and weighing over six tons. Quigley had used a chain- saw to split the titanic log himself during one miserable winter day when it was 20 degrees below zero. Then he spent some 300 hours carving elk and other Western scenes into the bar. Behind the bar was a scene that, like the grizzly and dog engaged in eternal tête-á- tête outside, was mechanically automated. Guthrie writes, "He devised animated miniatures against a diorama self-devised, too. An eagle flies back of the bar. A stagecoach runs. An Indian sends up smoke signals of actual smoke. Indians and soldiers fight, their guns smoking, too. Over a cliff tumble scared buffalo. And lifesize on the back bar is a black bear. It broke in one night, and John Quigley reluctantly shot it. The taxidermist estimated its weight at five hundred pounds, big for a black." When someone ordered a whiskey ditch at the bar, the "ditch" part was almost literal: the water was collected from a small spring running through the scene in between small trees (cut from the very tops of junipers and then treated with glycerine and formaldehyde). Finally, every seat at the bar was an authen- tic saddle, which Quigley quipped were the most expensive bar stools in the Rocky Mountain West, though maybe not the most comfortable. John Quigley's favorite was the beautiful chapel, which he judged "our nicest building. Constructed wholly out of native logs and stone, the non-denominational church had a large pic- ture window that looked North across the valley, a choir loft, and could seat fifty. Many Montanans and folks from elsewhere were married in that chapel." Quigley didn't just build, he collected. His trove of Western Americana and real regional antiques was so vast that the Mon- tana Historical Society would sometimes trade artifacts with the Frontier Town collection for mutual benefit. The Frontier Town cache included, in Guthrie's words, "[g]old samples, flake, and wheat and quartz. Old guns. Frontier carriages. Music boxes. Outdated drugs. Ox yokes. Chamber pots. Ledgers and etch- ings. Chinese gold scales. Indian clothing and artifacts. And, of all things, picnic pants. All are of a time and a place, significant of the Great Plains and Northern Rocky Mountain frontier." The remarkable Quigley worked hard until his death in 1979, but his family kept Frontier Town open until it was bought and sold again. As of this writing, the property is currently for sale for $1.7 million and stands as the private residence of the current owner, in- accessible to visitors. Judging by the success and frequent engagement on "John Quigley's Frontier Town, Mon- tana USA," the Facebook group (run by Quigley's granddaughter Taegan) devoted to memorializing Quigley and his family's accomplishments, on which commenters often share mem- ories of the good old days, there are many in the state and outside of it, too, who would like to see Frontier Town as it was again and restored to the Quigley family. Taegan is actively trying to buy Frontier Town back. We wish her luck in that endeavor. In truth, even if all we have are memories of Frontier Town, it's still a rich inheritance. What are we, as Montanans, to make of Frontier Town? It is a bona fide triumph of "outsider architecture," a fancy art term for when someone whom the academic or artistic world considers "naive" manages to create something amazing with- out their help. For instance, the Corn Palace in South Dakota, the Watts Towers in Los Angeles, or the cave city of Idaho's Dug- out Dave before it was destroyed by an overzealous Bureau of Land Management. But this one was built by a maverick, not an outsider. A pioneer. You could see it as a remarkable, if anachronistic, example of the species of hard work and invention that characterized the pi- oneers. If you were lucky enough to have been there, you might remember it as a place where joyful weddings were hosted, where good liquor flowed freely in what was one of the coolest bars ever, or, if you visited as a kid, you might even have begged for one of the fiendishly tempting souvenirs sold in the gift shop. It was all of those things and many more. As Guthrie writes, concluding his essay on Quigley and his Western dream, "[n]ot bad for a crazy fool who built on one rock. True to a time and a place. And it was built by one man." The scene behind the bar held many delightful surprises, like this "real" spitting cowboy. John Quigley serves some of his famous grub to Rear Admiral George C. Towner, 1961.

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