An old logging track and ditch lead through the woods to a
small clearing as the sun shines down patiently. There, wooden boards, a sloped
ceiling, and a large rectangular shape are obvious—the remains of a homestead
cabin. But the roof lies mostly flat on the ground, fairly burying the floor
and crumpled walls beneath it. A rusty beer can lies in a nearby bush, not far
from an iron seat—possibly from an early tractor. Bees defended the former home
late in the summer, but they have vanished by November.
Records show that a husband and wife once homesteaded here.
Herbert and Eva Roquet built the house and claimed the surrounding 243 acres in
1926. Herbert acquired the land from the United States, but in 1927 he formally
added Eva’s name to the property. They sold their plot in 1929 to a nearby
rancher for $1000, having joined the thousands of successful homesteaders—albeit
only briefly.
Herbert was born in Indiana in 1893. He served in the Armed
Forces during World War I, and he was a veterinarian—though he probably stopped
practicing while they homesteaded 20 miles out of town.
He and his wife most likely picnicked on Devil’s Creek, a stream
200 feet north of their house. It crossed their land from west to east, and was
the source of the aforementioned ditch. They would have strolled up their long
hillside across the creek as well. Sagebrush thrives there, but from the ridge
they would have witnessed sunrises and sunsets together—as well as oncoming
storms and blizzards.
After leaving their homestead, Eva opened a restaurant in downtown
Big Timber. My dad recalls getting Cokes at Eva’s diner as a kid. He remembers her
warm hospitality. The restaurant
closed during the war, but then reopened well into the 1950s. Eva was an election clerk during
Franklin D. Roosevelt’s fourth and final presidential race. She outlived her
husband by 10 years, dying in 1974 at the age of 78. Herbert had died in 1964
at age 70.
The Roquets homesteaded as young adults. And while they did
not stay there long, they probably remembered their experiences there for the
entire second half of their lives.
During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln signed into
law the
Homestead Act of 1862. It allowed small farmers to claim public land all over the
United States for almost no financial cost. Most people homesteaded up to 160
acres, where they had to live and “proof” (improve) the land for five years or
more. Later legislation in the early 20th century provided some 320-acre
options and three-year requirements. People could reduce their time obligations
for $1.25-$2.50 per acre. Homesteaders had to be 21 years old or the head of
their family. Given the ongoing war, veterans earned certain exemptions—but no
one who had fought against the government could claim land.
Homesteading lasted for more than a century, enabling 1.6
million people to own 420,000 square miles of the nation. That is 11 percent of
America or almost three times the size of Montana.
The last homesteading occurred in Alaska in 1988, but
most land claims had stopped 50 years earlier. Large farms, new technology, New
Deal era legislation, and possibly drought and the Depression all contributed
to the decline.
An intriguing fact of homesteading was the formation of
otherwise unlikely relationships. People from different places moved to the
same region at the same time. Some probably became friends, business partners,
or helpful neighbors. Maybe they attended church together, educated their kids
together, or even—since both men and women could homestead individually—got
married. Then again, others would have become hermits or troublemakers. Sadly,
most of these stories are gone forever.
Still, the Roquets surely would have met a fellow homestead
family just a mile upstream. In fact, perhaps Henry and Minnie Fischer
personally welcomed the Roquets to Devil’s Creek, since the Department of the Interior
had awarded Henry his “Final Certificate” in 1924, two years prior to the
Roquets. This prized document entitled Henry “to receive a Patent [No. 929688]
for the land” he had claimed in 1920.
The National Archives and Records Administration furnished
copies of 30 or so pages regarding Henry Fischer’s homestead. These included
his immigration papers, which were crucial since the Homestead Act only applied
to citizens. Of course, countless homesteaders were first-generation Americans,
since millions were coming to America during the late 19th and early 20th
centuries.
Henry was born in Germany before the American Civil War. But
the Franco-Prussian War would have been more relevant to him. It occurred in
1870-1871, and it might have helped the teenaged Henry start thinking about
migrating across the Atlantic.
In 1891 a district court judge in Minnesota acknowledged
that “Henry Fischer has resided within the limits and under the jurisdiction of
the United States, for at least five years…and that during the whole of that
time he has behaved himself as a man of good moral character.” The court then
ordered that he “be permitted to take the oath to support the Constitution of
the United Sates, and [to renounce] all allegiance and fidelity to every
Foreign Prince, Potentate, Sate, and Sovereignty whatever, and more
particularly to William 2nd Emperor of Prussia.” So he was “admitted” to all
“the rights, privileges, and immunities of a naturalized citizen of the United
States.”
But at 38 or 39, Henry Fischer was not the youngest new
citizen. And 32 years later, he certainly was not the youngest homesteader! He
and Minnie had seven children. One of them, Paul, filed a “Testimony of
Witness” in 1923 at the age of 37 for his father’s claim. Paul’s siblings could
have been adults by then, too, so perhaps Henry and Minnie did most of the work
themselves.
And work was indeed required. To get that all-important
government patent, they had to “proof” the land. In 1920 they built a house, a
barn, and a fence around their claim of 122 acres. Further, they broke up 25
acres of ground for crops. In 1921 they seeded and harvested 25 acres of wheat.
The next year they broke up another 25 acres and reaped 50 acres of wheat. During
their last trial year they planted 50 acres of wheat and oats. All of this was
on rocky soil at 6300 feet elevation, and it cost them $1500—which
today would be $20,000.
In addition, they could not take long vacations during their
three-year claim period. In fact, in his testimony, Paul said he had seen his
parents on the property every two weeks since they began to reside there. This
also excluded warm-up trips to Florida during the frigid mountain winters. The
elevation shot up 4000-5000 feet just five miles due west, to peaks that often
have snow on them from October to June.
Finally, Henry could file no other claims during the three
years, even if he found a place he liked better. The land itself could not be
owned or occupied by Indians. Henry could not mine minerals during his claim
years. The local newspaper was to print a notice of his intention to gain the
land for five straight weeks. He also needed to find two witnesses willing to
attest to all he had stated.
Meanwhile, local and federal officials had to approve all
this information in an era rather void of computers, Internet, smart phones,
and Priority Mail. His final paperwork began in July 1923 and ended with his
Patent in January 1924. And as was customary, President Calvin Coolidge signed
a letter from the United States to Henry regarding his new homestead (this was
in addition to his “Final Certificate”).
The Fischers stayed on their property for a decade. Sadly, Minnie
Fischer died in 1928, one year after she and Henry celebrated their
golden wedding anniversary on their land. She was 73 or 74. Henry sold the small estate
two years later. He died in 1936 in his mid-80s. Today only the cabin and part
of another foundation remain—the rest of the land looks much as it did 90 years
ago.
“Free land” was the popular cry of homesteaders. But as
already noted, proving the land was not free. And in the case of one family on
the eastern slopes of the Crazy Mountains, fiscal resources simply may have run
out, bringing to a quick end a dream that otherwise had a spectacular view.
Fred and Estella Tucker claimed 160 acres around the same
time as the Fischers. But before they even got their patent in August 1923,
they mortgaged their land that April. Melville Commercial Company lent the
Tuckers $103.36 “for provisions used while living on said Homestead Survey
while making proof.” In other words, they needed money in order to finalize
their claim from the government.
To their credit, they paid their debt in just under a year.
But two days later they sold their eight-month-old homestead for “$1 and other…”—common
diction in public files to conceal the full amount.
The Tuckers’ abrupt ending raises many questions. Maybe they
never had enough money for the endeavor. Perhaps they lost, or misspent, their
money during their claim years. The challenges of homesteading may have
overwhelmed them. The bitter winters could have been unbearable. The land
itself—abounding in gorgeous panoramas, but hosting lots of hills and shale and
little water or timber—might have produced too little to sustain them in terms
of money or food. Maybe one of them had an accident or illness. Or possibly they
just got bored.
Then again, they may have been shrewd prospectors. Maybe the
land, the mortgage, and the sale were beads on a long thread of quick
investments. Perhaps they were running from something or somebody. A family
emergency could have beckoned them away. Or they may only have passed through,
decided to stay awhile, and moved on.
Whatever the cause, they lived long after their homesteading
days. Fred turned 80 before he died in 1974. Estella died in 1988, having been born
months before the turn of the century. Four walls of rotted logs remain where
they were built soon after World War I, of which Fred was an Army veteran. The
surrounding bluffs today are called the Tucker Hills. And the stately mountains
look on with the same tranquility that potentially drew the Tuckers there in
the first place.
According to the
Bureau of Land Management, Montana had more than 150,000 homesteads, the most of
any state by far. Montana also had the most homesteaded acreage—more than 30
million acres—which is more than the total land area of 20 states. Nationwide,
almost
100 million people alive today
are descendants of homesteaders.
For decades homesteading was both popular and challenging. Some
people lied, cheated, stole—or worse. Others worked hard, raised families,
blessed others, and left inheritances. But the main legacy of the Roquets,
Fischers, Tuckers, and their fellow homesteaders, no matter the adversity, was
freedom—freedom to own, freedom to work, freedom to be silent or to make noise,
freedom to pursue dreams, freedom to fail, and freedom to succeed.
~~~~~~~~
