The Kempton Family

The Genesis

Instead of fairy tales, Dad told real life stories about cowboys, Indians, horses, cattle, and life on the open range- all the Wild West mystique of his childhood.

This book began as my simple effort to record these stories, so my children, grandchildren, and other family members would have the information when I am gone.
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​Coupled with some 400 family photos, plus extensive research, these accounts became a series of three books on the Kempton family, from a Mayflower Pilgrim to a signer of the Declaration of Independence to a Sioux Indian Chief, and a star rider and roper in a Wild West Show.

​High Adventure

The early Kemptons of Colorado and Eastern Montana were good people, trying to do the best they could for their families and communities. 

​ Reading about these folks will give you a picture of the settlement of the American West. These stories of adventure, courage, family unity, and everyday events  will enrich your knowledge of the pioneers who settled our country.

​You will read about: the haunted Kempton Hotel, Jerry's fantastic rescue from the waters of the Yellowstone, the time they dined on dinosaurs, the incredible journey of six orphans who traveled from Sweden to Montana, how the family called on President Roosevelt to solve a cattle problem, the mutiny of all but three men on an early  cattle drive, plus more. These true stories will give you a glimpse into the life of the Kempton family.

                      The Challenge!

Family history does not have to fade away or cease as relatives leave the earth.

When memories become stories told from generation to generation, this priceless family narrative is preserved for the future. 

I challenge you to record the details of your own family while the information still exists. 
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If you don't take on this task, who will?  

CHRISTMAS ISN'T ALWAYS MERRY
From "THE KEMPTONS: Adventures of a Montana Ranch Family-1880-1964"
Copyright by Trudy Kempton Dana 12-05-18

CHRISTMAS!  The word evokes thoughts of a happy family gathered around the Christmas tree. Friends and relatives together at a festive table- sitting down to a delicious dinner of ham or turkey. A group walking across a snow-covered yard to worship together in their church. Smiles and laughter, hugs and handshakes.  Blessed times with loved ones.
           But Christmas in reality is not as perfect as our daydreams. Some years it is downright unhappy. No, Christmas isn't always merry. And that, unfortunately, was the state of things on the Great Plains of America in the winter of 1886-87. It was even beyond unhappy. In fact, it was a tragedy that changed the entire future of cattle ranching in the Western United States. But even amidst this tragedy, there was family solidarity, faith, neighborly care, and hope for a brighter future. Maybe that's the message of Christmas- the eternal light that shines in the darkness that cannot be quenched. This is the story of Christmas on the Kempton Ranch in eastern Montana in the year 1886.
            JB Kempton, (1843-1910), the family patriarch, first saw the Montana land that would become the famed Kempton Ranch in 1880. He soon moved his family and his herds from their ranch in Colorado to the Yellowstone Valley, where they were some of the first white settlers. The family endured a number of seasons living in the old buffalo hunters' cabin, a small structure that is still on the ranch property, while their large two-story ranch house was built.
            At that time, the oldest child, my grandfather Berney, was about seventeen and there were five other boys and two girls, spaced about two years apart, down to Joe who was born on the Montana ranch. My grandfather, Berney, would later join a Wild West show when he was nineteen and be gone from the ranch for two years, traveling the world as a star rider and roper.  Eventually his sister, Mary Mable Kempton, married nearby rancher Ed Phillips, and they also joined a Wild West show, eventually settling in Hollywood where they worked with Tom Mix and other early cowboy film stars.
            The Kempton Home Ranch, with some forty artesian springs, a real blessing in this arid land, soon contained almost four-thousand acres, on which JB raised both cattle and horses. The ranch was adjacent to countless open miles of government land on which the stock grazed. JB was also a proponent of dry land farming, and his experiments helped both farmers and ranchers. The Kemptons raised record crops—dry land wheat, ninety-day corn that proved especially valuable in this area.
            Fellow ranchers questioned JB's extra work raising feed crops when the lush prairie easily provided all the grass cattle needed. Most ranchers simply turned their cows out onto the grassland and watched them fatten, seemingly overnight. One rancher said he could almost see his money grow with every bite his cows took.
            JB was also involved in the nearby new town of Terry, helping to establish the first bank, the Union Presbyterian Church, and the Ranchman's Supply Company that did a great deal of business with farmers and ranchers in the county and beyond.  Later, he was also the main backer for the new high school. JB was lovingly known as the town father of Terry, Montana.
            JB's wife, Maria Emma Gerry Kempton, was the great granddaughter of the Boston patriot, Elbridge Gerry, who signed the Declaration of Independence and was vice president under James Madison. Her father, with the same name, was the Colorado mountain man who saved hundreds of early settlers from an Indian raid. (That adventure is in Book Two of my series of the Kempton Family.) Maria's mother, Molly Red Kettle was a full-blooded Sioux Indian, the daughter of powerful Chief Joseph Red Kettle. Maria, although it was said could neither read nor write, was a highly respected ranch woman, active in community affairs, and very involved in the upbringing of her children. 
            The railroads that crossed Montana in the early 1880's also helped make ranching a profitable venture by providing a ready way to get cattle to market. These same railroads also began transporting thousands of settlers to the prairie grasslands with promises of free land and incredible crops- the opportunity of a lifetime. This promise, made in a number of languages, was specifically to attract newly arrived European immigrants. Just before this time, President Abraham Lincoln signed the Homestead Act, giving settlers the opportunity to own 160 acres.  All they had to do was pay a small fee, live on the land, and make improvements.
            New farmers began plowing up the virgin prairie in order to plant crops, not realizing that breaking up the native grasslands would lead to severe erosion and eventual crop failure. Not wanting range cattle to trample their crops or eat their harvests, farmers also began erecting barbed wire fences.  Ranchers soon found fences sprouting up on the previously open range where they ran their cattle.
            In 1886, at the time of this story, JB, his wife Maria, and their eight children had moved into their newly constructed two-story, large ranch house that still stands to this day. The Kempton Ranch was well established and the cattle business was booming with ranchers on the Great Plains seeing their investments almost double each year with the birth of new calves.  However, in the hopes of making quick money, greedy speculators began overstocking the ranges, the herds overgrazed, and some native grasses did not grow back.  A disaster was looming.
            In early 1886, the scene was set many months before snow flew.  That spring was wet and the famed Montana grasslands were green and lush. Cattle fattened easily and herds roamed the ranges. It seemed to be an ideal time: there was government land almost for the taking, few hostile Indians remained to threaten families, and the immense herds of buffalo had been slaughtered, leaving the grasslands open. Demand for beef was strong and prices high. It all seemed almost too good to be true.
            The summer that followed was unusually hot and dry. The lush, dependable grass began to die in July and the plains became almost barren. The lesser streams and smaller water holes dried up. Huge fires, caused by lightning strikes, swept across the prairie, destroying what dried grass remained. The air was hazy with smoke and summer came to an abrupt end.
            The fall of 1886 arrived early and migratory birds quickly fled to their wintering grounds; even birds that usually remained all winter left, too. Beaver collected more wood than normal for the winter ahead, and the stock grew thicker and shaggier coats. Indian tribes said they noticed signs that predicted a severe winter ahead. Montana ranchers didn't worry as they had endured hard winters before; however, those years their cattle had been well-fed going into winter and this year they were not.
            The first snow fell earlier than usual, in November, and was some of the worst in memory, making it harder for the already starving cattle to find food. A warm spell briefly melted the top layers of snow, which then froze to a solid crust when the brutal cold returned. This crusted snow made it impossible for cows to dig down to find the scant remaining prairie grasses and the sharp icy layer cut their legs.
                In December, there were two more blizzards.  JB and his men worked to get winter feed out to his herds. He worried about the snow level and the intense cold, but there was little he could do.  That was really hard on JB because for him, it wasn't just a herd of cattle—he really cared about his animals. Sometimes out on the range, you could hear him talking to the beasts, almost as if he was visiting with them, like you would a neighbor. All the ranch hands talked to the cows, but not like JB. He talked as if he expected them to answer back.
            Regardless of the weather on the Great Plains of Montana, Christmas was fast approaching and families planned to celebrate. It was perhaps fortunate that they did not know of the losses that lay ahead.
            Maria planned gifts for the family as well as small gifts for the ranch hands. At the Mercantile in Terry, she ordered shoes, boots, and coats for the youngsters.  JB could use a new suit to wear to the bank and she spotted a straight razor with a tortoise shell cover. JB had recently shaved off his beard and had been using an old razor that would not hold a sharp edge. She bought the new one as well as a shaving mug, soap, and brush.  (I still have that razor today.)
            The Kempton family put up a large tree in the living room. Christmas trees were not that common, as many families with smaller homes did not have room for a tree, plus evergreens were rare on the prairie. The Kempton tree came by wagon all the way from the Pine Barrens, near Miles City, and the family spent a number of evenings decorating it.  The children strung garlands of popcorn and small crabapples, and cut strips of colored gingham and calico to hang on the branches. Maria baked batches of sugar and gingerbread cookies that were threaded by a ribbon and hung on the tree. These edible ornaments seemed to magically disappear. She also spent hours baking the traditional pastries and treats the family loved. She carefully wrapped and stored them in the cold room that had been dug into the hillside outside the kitchen door.  My grandfather told how he and his brothers sneaked in there, carefully unwrapped the packages, and stole some of the baked goods. They didn't cut into the cakes and pies, but thought a few pastries would never be missed. Maria, aware of these sorties, mostly turned a blind eye, and continued to bake more. However, she did notice that no one nibbled the many fruitcakes she made.
            On Christmas Eve, the family attended an evening service at the Union Presbyterian Church in Terry, and then skated on a cleared area of the reservoir near the house. They warmed themselves around a big bonfire, roasted dough covered sausages over the coals, and drank hot spiced apple cider. JB tried to talk the boys into singing a few carols, but they were more interested in playing their version of ice hockey with sticks and a rock.
            That night, JB shooed his children to bed early, and encouraged the ranch hands to turn in so he and Maria could take the presents out of hiding and arrange them under the tree for morning surprises.
            On Christmas morning, the children opened wooden toys made by the ranch handy man, new boots and coats from the Mercantile, and the many caps, scarves, and mittens Maria had been knitting for months. The biggest hits were the real hockey sticks and pucks JB ordered from Spokane.  JB was pleased with his new straight razor and Maria loved the warm nightgown JB had chosen for her.  The ranch hands enjoyed their candy, chocolate, and knitted scarves.
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            Since JB and Maria had one of the largest homes in the area, they usually hosted a Christmas dinner for their neighbors. For a time, they considered forgoing the event that year. In the end, JB reasoned that during tough times it was even more important for neighbors to stick together, so they invited both ranchers and the newly arrived farmers. Any enmity between the two groups was put aside for the holiday, and they all sat at rows of tables in the large Kempton living room. Maria and the children had decorated each table with willow branches, cedar boughs, sage sprigs, and a bright red gingam bows.
 
           
Maria hired a woman from Terry to help her cook and serve this special meal. The menu was roast beef, turkey, and a large pork roast. JB had ordered several tins of oysters, (a rare treat), from the Mercantile for a special bread dressing and there were heaps of mashed potatoes and turnips, plus winter squash. The boiled onions, fried celery, and stewed carrots were a hit, as well as the smoked tongue, Parker house rolls, calves feet jelly and fruit preserves.  Dessert was mince pie, plum pudding with whiskey sauce, and fruitcake.
            When all were seated, JB said the blessing. He thanked the Lord for His provision in past years, and for mercy and guidance in the future. Then he offered thanks for all the families gathered there and for their care of one another. He ended his prayer with gratitude for the supreme gift of the Christ child sent to earth to be our guiding light.
            After the meal, JB read the Christmas story in the Book of Luke from the large family Bible. Each family opened a small gift from JB and Maria, and then the group stood around the organ and sang carols, while the children played board games in the dining room and sneaked back for more desserts. The men commiserated about the cold weather and JB told the group that they were welcome to any extra feed he had. When guests left in their buggies, a heavy snow was falling and temperatures had dropped considerably. Families cuddled down into fur robes and headed for home.
            Those who gathered at the Kempton Ranch that Christmas did not know what lay ahead, and perhaps that was a blessing.  JB did not know that most of his cattle would perish in the intense cold and that he would jokingly recall losing a whopping one-hundred-ten percent of his stock: one hundred percent to the cold and another ten percent just to find where they all went. It was a joke without humor. Ranchers did not know that they would agonize over the loss of their cattle, but be powerless to help and that herds would die stacked up one on another trying to find shelter. They did not know that many of their neighbors would be forced into bankruptcy and move away from the Yellowstone Valley. JB did not know that he would be fortunate enough to have the financial reserves to restock with Texas longhorns, a breed better able to stand the cold.
            In early January of 1887, it snowed for sixteen hours at about an inch an hour and the temperature fell to minus 25. Snow continued and temperatures hit 40 below zero. Intermittent snow fell for another ten days, with continued extreme cold. Those without hay to feed their animals had to sit by and watch their herds slowly die. Ranchers who had raised winter feed frantically tried to get it out to their cattle during breaks from the cold. Some ranchers took JB up on his offer of extra feed, but the problem lay in transporting it to their cattle.
            There was a respite of a little more than a week until a blizzard struck the end of January. For three days and nights, blowing snow made it impossible to see and thermometers read 63 below zero. A sudden let up of the cold gave the promise of a Chinook, (a warm wind that usually comes in the late winter), but another storm set in and lasted through February 3. Winter seemed to go on forever.
 
One blessing of that long winter on the Kempton Ranch was the spectacular icy display of the artesian spring nearest the house.  This natural spring, which was under pressure, was at its best with lacey layer upon layer of frozen water. Folks came from miles around just to look.  
                Finally, at long last, spring came and temperatures moderated, but it was a grim spring indeed. As the snow melted, carcasses of the once massive herds dotted the landscape as far as one could see. An old timer recalled seeing bloated rotting carcasses with all four legs up floating down snowmelt-swollen creeks and rivers.  The water supply was affected for weeks until the dead cattle washed downstream or could be hauled out of waterholes.  Clean drinking water was in short supply and a stench filled the air for weeks. The few remaining cattle that had survived the winter were emaciated and suffering.
                Millions of cattle perished during the “Great Die Up” as that fateful winter was called.  "Hell's Roundup" was another darkly humorous term, a grim parody of the celebrated cattle round up.  Montana ranchers alone lost more than half their herds.
                The winter of 1886-87 changed the history of cattle ranching in the West: ranchers would be forced to run smaller herds that could be contained by barbed wire fencing, they also began to raise feed for their herds, and the idea of conserving range grass became a new practice. The extremely profitable days of cattle ranching on the open range, which spanned only fifty years, came to an end.
            The Christmas message that year for Montana ranchers was one of endurance and faith. Endurance through the bad times and faith that better times were ahead. Christmas comes, no matter what sorrow has engulfed us in the previous months. Some years this holy holiday will find us youthful and fulfilled, some years it will find us feeling old and in the depths of sorrow wondering if we will ever find our way back. Some years will find us pinching pennies and some years we are able to spend lavishly. Some seasons will find us happily together with our family. Some seasons will find us separated by miles or by disagreements, fractured and hopeless.
            The lesson is that Christmas is not about us and what is happening in our lives.  Christmas is bigger than our griefs, problems, and concerns, even when they seem overwhelming.  Christmas is far larger than earthly problems.  No matter what is happening in our lives in late December, the message of Christmas is the same. It's a celebration of the supreme gift of God's love in sending his son to earth as an innocent tiny babe born to poor parents in an era of turbulence and uncertainty. As the words of one of the world's greatest pieces of music, Handel's "Messiah" proclaim, "God with us". The gift of the Christ child sent to us. The light of the world that will never darken.
                Whether this December finds you with the good fortune of a picture perfect family, or perhaps grieving the death of a loved one, in the depths of an illness, or beset with problems, the message is still the same. GOD WITH US!  Peace on Earth.  Goodwill to all people.
            Merry Christmas to you as you celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, the light of the world!

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