Montana winters vary. Some can be cold and miserable and others warm and balmy. Having lived in Gallatin County all my life, I have experienced all kinds. On Christmas Day 1969 there was no snow on the ground and, with the rain, it felt like a spring day. In sharp contrast, the winter of 1948-49 was one that many people believed was the most severe since the devasting winter of 1886-87. 

The winter of 1948-49 started on December 5th, when the initial below temperature of -1 was recorded. The cold wave continued and the temperature on December 22nd was -23. January and February proved to be an ordeal with abundant snowfall, cold temperatures and strong winds that drifted snow, clogging roads and isolating families for weeks. At least 12 days in January had temperatures ranging from -10 to -36. On January 27th the college had 22.35 inches of snow on the ground, while the Belgrade airport reported having 23.9 inches. Winds up to 40 miles per hour rearranged the snow into drifts that were often over 12 feet high.

On Tuesday, February 8th, a blizzard blasted the entire valley and a Bozeman school bus was stuck on Durston Road. The county surveyor S. J. Waldorf sent out two county plows; the bus was found at the Jack Stout Ranch. Mrs. Stout had fed the eight children and was preparing to put them up for the night. When the plows arrived, the bus followed the plow and delivered the kids home, although much later than usual. In Belgrade, another bus was bogged down in deep snowdrifts and had to be rescued by snowplows. School attendance became a problem.

On February 15th, Gallatin County was declared an emergency area because of the strong winds and deep snow. The entire county had been snowbound for weeks, with people unable to get to town for supplies. Gallatin County owned only three snowplows and six road graders with well over 1200 miles of roads to maintain. During January and early February, ranchers who owned dozers had been clearing the roads and reaching snowbound neighbors who needed food, fuel, and medical help. Some residents had been forced to travel to town by sleigh or snowshoes to obtain necessary provisions.

With the state of emergency, nine Studebaker M29 Weasels, designed for operations in snow (described as “khaki-colored angels of mercy”) were brought in and stored in the basement of the armory. Weighing 3,750 pounds, they could go between five and 15 miles per hour over the top of the hard-crusted snow. Operated by members of the National Guard, they were used to rescue snowbound residents and livestock. Nine additional snowplows were brought in by the state of Montana.  Some of the roads could only be opened by people shoveling the snow by hand.

In addition to the weasels and snowplows, airplanes became a mode of transportation. The Bozeman Aviation Service and Lynch Flying Service were dispatched to do aerial surveys to find snowbound ranchers in need of food, fuel, or medicine. After the survey was complete, the two flying services started Operation Snowbound. The planes taking to the skies were equipped with skis so that they could land near ranch houses, delivering needed supplies to the stranded residents. Dave Rahn, who lived west of the Gallatin River and north of Norris Cut-off Road, had been snowed in for weeks and was running desperately low on food and fuel oil. When he heard the plane fly over, he started waving a blanket after stomping an SOS message in the snow. He was just one of the many to have supplies brought to him by airplane.

The area north of Belgrade near Pass Creek and the Blacktail Divide was among the hardest hit, with snow piled up in drifts over 12 feet high. The conditions made the simplest tasks a formidable challenge. Because some ranchers were unable to get to the cold, hungry, and thirsty livestock, my dad and other neighbors who had bulldozers, along with the National Guard, plowed them out. Operation Haylift dropped hay by plane to the sheep and cattle.

My brother Jim and his wife Virginia lived in the area at the base of the Bridger Mountains. They had a two-year old and a six-week-old baby. Jim Stradley flew in, landing in a field near the ranch house. Virginia and baby Sam were flown to the Belgrade airport. From there, they were driven into Bozeman to visit the doctor. Later that afternoon, Pilot Stradley delivered them home, landing in the same field. However, for them to get to the house, my father had to plow a path with his D-4 Caterpillar.

The contour of the land was constantly changing due to high winds piling up snow. Even after roads were plowed, the wind caused them to drift shut again. Neighbors helped neighbors however they could. Dad plowed many miles of road that winter. An article in the “Maudlow and Menard” section in the February 18, 1949, Bozeman Courier read, “We are drifted in again.  Harold Miller was kind enough to plow our road out. The Farmers’ fuel oil truck followed him in, so we all have fuel.”

I remember parts of the winter even though I was only six years old and in first grade in Belgrade. We lived between Menard and Maudlow in the northern part of the county. We kids rode the school bus every day into Belgrade—40 miles one way on a gravel road. The bus ride was shared with those students who were enrolled in Manhattan. Orville Williams was the Belgrade bus driver, and Bernie Smith drove the Manhattan bus. The two school districts had an agreement: one week, the Belgrade bus would pick up us “north kids” at 7:30 a.m. and deliver us home by 5:00 p.m., and the next week we would be picked up by the Manhattan bus. The rendezvous point for the two buses was the Dry Creek Church, where we would unload and get on our respective buses and head to school. This worked well until the first blizzard hit in December 1948. However, in comparison to the rest of the winter, that storm was not bad.

When that February 15 blizzard hit, most of the county was snowed in, but we, on the other hand, were snowed out for a week. That morning, my mother had to take my brother Bob to Bozeman Deaconess Hospital when he had severe complications from Tularemia, which he had contracted by drinking water from a mountain stream. My sister Darlene, my brother Dean, and I didn’t ride the bus that morning but went with Mom, who dropped us off at school. In the afternoon, she picked us up from school—and so began our adventure of being snowed out from home for a week.

The road between Bozeman and Belgrade had been plowed and was passable, but one had to drive cautiously the ten miles on the two-lane road, as this was long before the Interstate was built. At the time, Bozeman had fewer than 12,000 people, and Belgrade’s population was less than 800, so there were no fancy hotels or motels with swimming pools and fine restaurants. The four of us stayed at the Cosner Hotel at 130 East Main in the heart of downtown Bozeman. The next morning, Mom decided that we would try to make it home, because the cattle had to be fed. We got to Menard but were unable to make it the last few miles to home. The decision was made that fifteen-year-old Dean would hike into the ranch to take care of the livestock. Walking on the heavily crusted snow, he followed the fence line, which was barely visible. No one knew that he was walking in because there were no telephones in that section of the county. He managed to get to Joe Morgan’s ranch, and they took him the last mile in their Power Wagon.

My mother, sister, and I returned to Belgrade and spent the next nights in the hotel located above the Belgrade Lounge, which was located right next to the railroad track. I remember hearing the rumbling of a lone train as it traveled through Belgrade. Living so remotely in the country, I had never been that close to a train before. After our adventuresome week, the road was plowed and we were able to return home.

By March 3rd the extra bulldozer crews left the area, and the county equipment continued working on the nearly 400 miles of roads that were still blocked with drifts. Some roads remained impassable until April. The third annual Winter Fair was held from March 28-April 2nd after being postponed because of the winter conditions the first part of February. By spring, life had returned to normal. It was amazing that no one died because of the brutal winter conditions. People did what they had to do without thinking about the consequences of what might have happened. They helped one another. It was just what was expected. It was life in rural Montana.   

Mary Ellen Fitzgerald is a Gallatin Valley native whose ancestors had arrived in the valley by 1867. She was an English and history teacher for over 37 years before being elected as the Gallatin County Superintendent of Schools in 2002, retiring in 2015. She is currently a member of the Belgrade School Board, the Historic Preservation Board of Gallatin County, the East Gallatin/Hamilton Cemetery Board, and the Gallatin History Museum Board.