Montana's Centennial Train

By editor

West Yellowstone, Gallatin County, Montana

In 1964, Montana celebrated its hundredth birthday as a territory, a milestone that inspired a spectacle so grand it might have made even the old railroad tycoons blink. The occasion was marked by a traveling showpiece unlike any other: a train loaded not just with passengers and freight, but with stagecoaches, wagons, seventy-two horses, a million-dollar collection of gold, and a roster of three hundred Montanans eager to parade their state’s history and resources all the way to New York City and back. It was a celebration mounted on steel rails that stretched across the country, a rolling advertisement for Montana at a time when railroads still meant something more than just a way to get from one place to another.

The idea was hatched by the Montana Centennial Commission, which faced the challenge of marking the centennial in a way that would capture the imagination of both Montanans and the nation. The result was a train that began in Billings on April 5, 1964, and embarked on a route covering sixteen cities, crossing the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains, and finally reaching the East Coast. It was a journey of nearly 6,000 miles, with each stop marked by a parade, a banquet, and enough fanfare to fill a small town twice over. The train itself was no modest affair. By the time it was ready to depart, it had swelled to over twenty-five cars, each adorned with colorful art panels depicting Montana’s history, wildlife, and industry. Some cars were decorated with ranch brands fashioned from Anaconda copper, a nod to the copper mining industry that had dominated Montana’s economy since the late 19th century.

The presence of these copper brands was more than decorative flair. Anaconda Copper Mining Company was Montana’s economic powerhouse for decades, controlling vast mines, smelters, and even influencing local politics. The copper industry was responsible for shaping Montana’s towns, labor history, and even its landscape. The Centennial Train's display of these brands was, in a way, a declaration of what truly mattered to the state’s economy and identity.

Among the passengers was Montana’s Centennial Queen, Bonnie Jo Robbins, a young woman chosen to represent the state’s heritage and future. Alongside her was "Big Medicine," a white bison from the National Bison Range, embodying the wildlife and natural spirit of Montana. The inclusion of a live bison on a train destined for urban centers like Washington, D.C., and New York City added an element of the absurd to the whole enterprise, but also a tangible connection to Montana’s wild roots.

The train’s itinerary was ambitious. It stopped in cities like Minneapolis, Chicago, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia before reaching the nation’s capital and then proceeding to New York. In Washington, D.C., a grand dinner was held in honor of President Lyndon B. Johnson. The toastmaster was none other than Chet Huntley, a Montana native and a well-known television newscaster, who welcomed the president and guests with a speech that captured the spirit of the event. Huntley remarked, “Montana is a place where the rivers run wild, the mountains stand tall, and the people carry a proud history--one that we’re eager to share with the rest of the country.”

Montana’s Centennial Train was more than just a party on rails. It was a calculated effort to boost the state’s visibility at a time when Montana was grappling with the challenges of a changing economy. The post-war period had seen the decline of some traditional industries, including railroads themselves, as trucks and airplanes took over freight and passenger service. Railroads that once clamored for business in Montana were downsizing or abandoning lines. The Centennial Train thus served as a nostalgic nod to the railroad’s critical role in Montana’s settlement and development, even as the industry faced an uncertain future.

The train’s final destination was New York City, where it arrived just in time for the 1964-65 World’s Fair. The Montana Pavilion at the fair featured a pioneer village set against the backdrop of the Centennial Train itself. For two seasons, the train remained on display, offering visitors a glimpse of Montana’s frontier history and contemporary life. It was a rare opportunity for urban Americans to see, up close, the artifacts and living symbols of a state that often felt a world away.

When the World’s Fair closed in 1965, the Centennial Train’s journey was far from over. Seven of its cars were donated to gateway communities in Montana to serve as visitor centers and local attractions. West Yellowstone received one of the cars, a "CowBelle" car adorned with copper ranch brands, which the local Chamber of Commerce used for years before it was repurposed for retail. In 2003, the Povah family donated the car to the Yellowstone Historic Center, where it remains on display as a tangible piece of Montana’s centennial history.

It is worth noting the scale of this operation. Moving seventy-two horses on a train requires a level of logistical planning that would be daunting even today. The million-dollar collection of gold displayed aboard the train was reportedly on loan from Montana banks and mining companies, a reminder that Montana’s wealth had long been tied to its mineral resources. The presence of over three hundred Montanans aboard the train, including ranchers, miners, historians, and young women like Bonnie Jo Robbins, demonstrated the state’s desire to present a comprehensive image of itself--one that blended past and present, industry and nature, people and place.

What the people organizing the train perhaps did not fully anticipate was how easily such a spectacle might be seen as a kind of over-the-top pageantry, a grand gesture that masked the difficulties Montana faced beneath the surface. In 1964, Montana’s population was just over 700,000, with an economy still heavily reliant on agriculture and mining, yet increasingly vulnerable to national shifts in markets and federal policies. The train was, in a sense, a way to ride the rails of optimism even as the tracks ahead were uncertain.

Yet, as Chet Huntley’s words suggest, there was genuine pride in the effort. The Centennial Train was an attempt to stitch together a narrative of Montana as a land of rugged beauty, resource wealth, and resilient people. It was, perhaps, the closest Montana got to a traveling billboard, one that could chug through the nation’s heartland and into its largest cities, proclaiming: Here is Montana, with all its contradictions and charms.

As the train rolled back westward in the late spring of 1964, leaving behind crowds who had cheered its arrival and greeted its passengers, it carried with it a story of a state that preferred to show rather than tell. And in the years since, the legacy of that train has lingered in places like West Yellowstone, where the old cars still rest, silent now but no less vivid in the memory of those who remember the year Montana decided to take its show on the rails.

See also

• Montana's Centennial Train at West Yellowstone, Gallatin County
• Snowed In! at West Yellowstone, Gallatin County
• [A Leap Just in Time