Thursday, November 14, 2024
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100 years ago on the North Fork

| March 2, 2016 5:42 AM

Matt Brill was the North Fork homesteader that I knew best. When my folks bought Kintla Ranch from the Brills in 1947 I was 10 years old and Matt was just old. He taught me Dutch oven cooking, edible plants and how to use them and told stories of his early days on The North Fork—some of them I have already shared. So it has been a special joy to have archivist, Lois Walker, pulling more stories out of the archives of the first Columbia Falls newspaper, The Columbian, like the one two weeks ago. Here is another from January 1914:

Matt Brill and Paul Abbott, two very popular and enterprising young men of the this city have taken up adjoining homesteads in the Upper North Fork country. (Abbots Flats and Kintla Ranch). During the past summer they formed a cooperative plan in purchasing farm machinery.

Among their investments was a seeder which they packed home over the rough mountain roads and trails in “knock down” style, and arriving at their destination, they started at once assembling the different parts and putting the machine together.

Those familiar with the two gentlemen in question will admit that their past careers were not spent in tilling the soil or in following the vocation of coaxing a livelihood from Mother Earth, consequently, it was to be expected that they would encounter numerous trials and tribulations in placing together such a complicated piece of machinery as a seeder.

However, after hours and days and weeks of hard grimy toil, they completed their task, with the exception of finding a place for one  article. Every bolt and rod had been fitted, the thing looked complete in every particular, but there was that one piece of iron for which they could find no place where it would fit.

They tried it on every part except the tongue, and Matt insisted that it belonged there. This provoke a heated argument as Paul proclaimed that it belonged under the seat.

After Matt had scratched a bald spot on top of his cranium and Paul had smoked up the last speck of “makins” in camp, they both decided they would call upon their nearest neighbor for consul and advice. The idea stuck them as brilliant and they both made the trip to Fred Johnson’s place, over four miles distant (actually nearer six miles).

Mr. Johnson was at home, but very busy and it was only after much pleading and persistent persuasion that he agreed to accompany his neighbors back home and attempt to solve for them the intricate problem of attaching the single piece of machinery.

When they arrived upon the scene, Mr. Johnson looked over the new seeder and admired it very much and asked for the leftover part. Matt handed him the perplexing article and waited breathlessly for the verdict.

The expert looked at it over a minute, then looking very wise and solemn, exclaimed, “You damn fools, that’s the monkey wrench!” Then in order to get even with his friends for calling him out for that eight (12) miles hike, he insisted on hanging around and eating up their grub for four days.

Luckily, today we have Lynn Ogle and Duke Hoiland within a mile or two and radios to contact them, not to mention it takes less time to drive to town and back for parts than it took Matt to walk to Big Nose Johnsons and back.