The Historic Crail Ranch | North View

By editor

Big Sky, Gallatin County

Now, folks often talk about the pioneering spirit, that grand, dusty notion of striking out west to tame the wilderness. And indeed, there was plenty of wilderness to tame, and plenty of folks who tried their hand at it, often with more grit than good sense. Take Augustus Frank Crail, for instance. A man already in his early sixties, mind you, when he decided the best course of action was to pack up his wife, Sallie, and their three young'uns and head for the Gallatin Canyon in 1902. One might wonder what possessed a man of such advanced years to embark on an adventure that most younger men would think twice about. Perhaps it was the lure of land, or perhaps it was simply the restless spirit that seems to afflict so many of us in this grand, sprawling country.

Frank, as he was known to those who didn't stand on ceremony, wasn't exactly a tenderfoot. He'd seen a bit of Montana already, having migrated from Indiana when he was a mere 21. He'd even tried his hand at ranching in the Bridger Mountains, a place where the mountains are so grand they make a man feel rather small, and the winters are long enough to make him question his life choices. Then, for a spell in the 1890s, he traded the saddle for a desk, serving as the Clerk of the 9th District Court in Bozeman. A man of varied talents, it seems, or perhaps just a man who hadn't quite figured out what he wanted to be when he grew up, even in his fifties.

Sallie, his wife, was a music teacher from Missouri, a woman who, one imagines, brought a touch of refinement to the rugged Montana landscape. She married Frank in 1886, when she was 22, and together they set about the business of raising a family and, above all, building a ranch. And build it they did. The Crail Ranch, in its heyday, stretched across a respectable 960 acres, a parcel of land so significant that it now encompasses what the locals simply call "The Meadow." It's a fine tribute to their efforts, though one suspects that if they'd known it would one day be called "The Meadow," they might have picked a more imposing name, something with a bit more frontier swagger.

Their children were Eugene, born in '87, Emmett, a year later in '88, and Lilian, who arrived in '96. The family, like many sensible folks in those parts, spent their summers at the ranch, enjoying the mountain air and the hard work that came with it. But it was Emmett, the middle child, who truly took to the ranching life, eventually living there year-round, a true son of the soil. The others, well, they had their own ideas about how to make their mark on the world.

Eugene, for instance, found himself far from the Gallatin Canyon, serving in the Great War as a Red Cross hospital surveyor in England. After the war, he married in his forties, settled on a ranch in Bozeman, and then, as if the world couldn't hold him still, moved to Port Angeles during the Second World War. Lilian, with a spirit perhaps less inclined to the rough-and-tumble of ranch life, headed off to Chicago to study nursing. She graduated in 1921 and remained in the Windy City until, in her sixties, she moved to California, became a private nurse, and finally married. It seems the Crail children, like many Americans, were not content to stay put, always seeking new horizons, or at least new zip codes.

But it was Emmett, as we said, who kept the home fires burning, operating the Crail Ranch as a proper working outfit until 1949. He was the anchor, the one who understood that the land, though it might try a man's patience, was also the source of his livelihood and his legacy. And speaking of legacies, there's a rather charming anecdote about Sallie Crail that bears repeating. From the document 'The Crail Family of Gallatin Canyon,' we learn that "Also on display at the Crail Ranch is a quilt that Sallie finished in 1901, which the Crail family states won first honors at a quilting competition in Chicago. The quilt is dated by a phrase stitched into the quilt, 'Lilian Crail 5 years old'. Lilian was five in 1901." A quilt, mind you, winning first honors in Chicago, a city not exactly known for its lack of competition. It just goes to show, even in the wilds of Montana, a bit of domestic artistry could find its moment of glory.

So, the Crail Ranch stands, a monument to a family's endeavor, a patch of Montana earth that saw its share of toil and triumph. It's a story, like many in this country, of folks who came, who saw, and who, for better or worse, left their mark. And if you ask me, that's about as American as it gets.