Distinctly Montana Magazine

w w w. d i s t i n c t ly m o n ta n a . c o m 41 The population is not only of all nationalities and stations, but the nationalities and stations mix and mingle promiscuously with each other, and are partly concealed and partly revealed in the mazes of a veneer that belongs neither to nation nor to station, but to Butte. At some Fourth of July demonstration, or on a Miners' Union day, the heterogeneous herd turns out — and I turn out, and look on. There are Irishmen — Kelleys, Caseys, Calahans, stagger- ing under the weight of much whiskey, shouting out their green-isle maxims; there is the festive Cornishman, ogling and leering, greeting his fellow-countrymen with alcoholic heartiness, and gazing after every feminine creature with lust- ful eyes; there are Irish women swearing genially at each other in shrill pleasantry, and five or six loudly-vociferous children for each; there are round-faced Cornish women likewise, each with her train of children; there are suave, sleek sport- ing men just out of the bath-tub; insignificant lawyers, dentists, messenger boys; "plungers" without number; greasy Italians from Meader- ville; greasier French people from the Boulevarde Addition; ancient miners — each of whom was the first to stake a claim in Butte; starved-looking Chinamen here and there; a contingent of Finns and Swedes and Germans; musty, stuffy old Jew pawn-brokers who have crawled out of their holes for a brief recreation; dirt-encrusted Indians and squaws in dirty, gay blankets, from their flea- haunted camp below the town; "box-rustlers" — who are as common in Butte as bar-maids in Ireland; swell, flashylooking Africans; respect- able women with white aprons tied around their waists and sailor-hats on their heads, who have left the children at home and stepped out to see what was going on; innumerable stray youngsters from the dark haunts of Dublin Gulch; heavy res- taurant-keepers with toothpicks in their mouths; a vast armynof dry-goods clerks — the "paper- collared" gentry; miners of every description; representatives from Dog Town, Chicken Flats, Busterville,Butchertown, and Seldom Seen — sub- urbs of Butte; pale, thin individuals who sing and dance in beer-halls; smart society people in high traps and tallyhos; impossible women — so-called (though in Butte no one is more possible), in vast hats and extremely plaid stockings; persons who take things seriously and play the races for a liv- ing; "beer-jerkers"; "biscuit-shooters"; softvoiced Mexicans and Arabians; —the dregs, the élite, the humbly respectable, the off-scouring — all thrown together, and shaken up, and mixed well. One may notice many odd bits of irony as one walks among these. One may notice that the Irishmen are singularly carefree and strong and comfortable—and so jolly! while the Irish women are frumpish and careworn and borne earthward with children. The Cornishman who has consumed the greatest amount of whiskey is the most agreeable, and less and less inclined to leer and ogle. The Cornish woman whose profanity is the shrillest and most genial and voluble, is she whose life seems the most weighted and downtrod- den. The young women whose bodies are encased in the tightest and stiffest corsets are in the most wildly hilarious spirits of all. The filthy little Irish youngsters from Dublin Gulch are much brighter and more clever in every way than the ordinary American children who are less filthy. A delicate aroma of cocktails and whiskey-and-soda hangs over even the four-in- hands and automobiles of the upper crust. Gamblers, newsboys, and Chinamen editor's note: This article is an excerpt from the diary, The Story of Mary MacLane, published by River- bend Publishing, Helena. When Mary was 19 years old, this book became a national sensa- tion. Even Ernest Hemingway and Gertrude Stein praised it for being fresh, frank, and funny. Mary complained often about being bored but daily she took long walks around town and wrote about the mixed culture of people in those wild wild mining days. DEpartMENt HErItagE HErItagE HErItagE Bue: 1902 Feb. 3rd, 1902 e town of Bue presents a wonderful field a student of humanity and human nature. ere are not a great many people — 70,000 perhaps — but ose 70,000 are in eir way unpara•eled. Bohemianism — where is Bue' s rival? By Mary MacLaNE

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