By G. George Ostrom

(July 1, 2003)

Prologue: “In the beginning, God made the earth and the firmament, and He created vast tracts of forests, deserts, seas, mountains and prairies. Upon completion of earth, He chose a limited number of select sites which contained the very best of all he had done; and in the righteousness of His will, ruled that those places would one day be owned and protected by a chosen few.”

On an unusually hot May afternoon in 1946, I completed the 56 mile road walk from Columbia Falls to the Canadian border. Classmate and close friend Erick Fehlberg and I were throwing rocks out from behind a Forest Service grader, earning a little money before leaving for the service (Erick’s maternal grandfather was Bill Adair, who founded Polebridge).

The grader finished our week-long job by smoothing the narrow roadway into “Madge Cooper’s Place.”

The short stout lady came out and served the road crew iced lemonade at a table under the trees. There was a new red and white checkered tablecloth.

Having spent my life on a dry land farm and at a waterless mining camp, I was overcome by the beauty of that spot in the forest, beside a clear murmuring river, beneath towering peaks of Glacier-Waterton Parks. I have never forgotten the joy of that moment in that magical place.

Late January 1967: Walked outside from my desk at First Federal’s new Main Street bank in Kalispell and found business acquaintance Howard Hays approaching through the snow. He wanted to know if I had a minute to talk. Said, “Sure! Come in.” Howard ran a logging operation in Alaska and said a tidal wave had broken cables and lost him a quarter of a million dollars worth of cut timber. He was hurting for cash. Related how he was buying Madge Cooper’s old dude ranch in the North Fork on a contract for deed and could not make payments.

My heart was pounding, but I tried to appear casual while asking “Is this THEE place on the river next to the Canadian border?”

“Yes,” he said. “I only saw it once. There are a few old cabins that don’t amount to anything. What attracted my interest was a mile of river bordering Glacier Park and a good useable grass airstrip. I’ve surveyed off seven river lots below the boundary, but haven’t sold any.”

Hays figured he had $20,000 equity and owed about $38,000. Told him I’d give him $15,000 for his equity and wrote him a personal check for a thousand as earnest money on a buy-sell agreement which was notarized on the spot. Guaranteed him another $9,000 cash within a week.

When Howard left, I ran up to Conrad Bank and asked for a loan to cover my thousand dollar check. After work, I went to Jack’s Tavern and met Jerry Adams, Ken Carlson, John Roseland and Al Herriges, whom I talked into giving me $5,000 each to form a partnership. Pitch was, “We’ll subdivide Moose City as a fly-in hideaway for rich guys and make good profit.” Probably told them “a million.”

Next day I went to Madge’s daughter Meva Boberg, who owned the property, and negotiated a new contract on the owing balance. February 5, 1967, I paid her $1,574.50 in interest due. With the paperwork done on the 6th, I paid her $8,165 against the principal of $37,665, leaving a balance of $29,500. Mailed Hays his $9,000.

The following Friday night I borrowed a demonstrator snow cat and drove a pickup over icy roads to Whale Creek with Ray Hall and Wayne Johnson. Wayne owned a place down river from us and the plan called for snowmobiling there from Whale Creek that night and going on up to Moose City Saturday. Wayne like a nip of gin now and then…and shortcuts. By midnight we were lost and bogged in four feet of snow at the bottom of a steep canyon. Asked Ray what he thought we should do and he said, “Ask Wayne for a shot of his gin.”

Eventually found Wayne’s cabin and managed to get supper and in bed by 2 a.m. Reached Moose City late the next morning. By that time I had carefully studied the plats and knew I had not bought a “full mile” of river; however, the cabins were far better than Hays had described. Found them needing maintenance but insides were good, all completely furnished. A person could have just moved in. The barn was solid and two storage cabins and ice house ready to use. Lot of equipment, antique furniture and you-name-it. I was ecstatic. There was still mouse-chewed toilet paper in the outhouses. Moose had been bedding down in the protected porches of all four dude cabins. There were droppings in abundance.

Snowcatted around the meadow and then down the river where I sold Ray an “unsurveyed lot.” We piled sticks where he wanted it to be.

At this time I was already having reservations about my original plan to subdivide the whole thing and get rich. Decided to do selective subdividing to keep up payments, but play it cool.

That spring when the road got plowed, I had Dean Marquardt survey lots south of the cabins on the river. Removed two of the Hays lots immediately north of the cabins from inventory because they were too close to the cabins. Then had Dean start his survey one thousand feet south. That’s why Moose City has the thousand feet frontage.

Will not go into all financial transactions. I didn’t end up paying Hays his final $5,000 because he decided to take two lots in lieu of same, which I later bought back at 50 cents on the dollar and resold for money to operate Moose City. Did the same with Meva. She wanted her two kids to have lots. Turned out they didn’t want them, so I bought those back from Meva at a discount then sold at profit.

History of Ownership

The records in Flathead County courthouse show a Homestead Patent signed for President Woodrow Wilson by M.P. Leroy, Secretary from the U.S. Land Office. It says, “The claim of Frank E. Clute has been established and duly consummated in the conformity to law [legal description].”

The assignment was signed and sealed in Washington D.C. the nineteenth day of January in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fifteen and of the Independence of the United States the one hundred and thirty-ninth.”

The property remained in the name of Frank Clute from January 15, 1915, until September 15, 1936, when it was deeded to Meva J. Boberg, by Clute, “a single man.” That deed was not recorded by lawyer Gordon Roglien until May 2, 1944, indicating it was probably in an escrow under contract for deed. In no place do I find anything showing Meva’s mother Madge Cooper having ownership, although she seemed to have full control for many years. I was told that the cabins and the two-story lodge were built for Madge in 1937. A person involved some place in there was Ollie Terrien, who was one of Madge’s six husbands.

Next official entry in courthouse records is a quit claim deed from Howard Hays back to Boberg in March of 1967, one month after I bought the property.

Next recorded deed to property is to G. George Ostrom dated November 3, 1975, when I paid off Boberg in full.