Copper Journalism
by Katie Aschim
Written - January 2003
It was
a recipe for disaster. Throw together two powerful copper magnates, a dash of
ego, a pinch of pride, tumultuous politics and money and stir it together in a
newborn state at the frontier’s edge. Add one of the most influential forces
of the 19th century, the newspaper, and an explosion was inevitable.
Just
such a blast rocked Montana shortly after its birth. Men rose and fell; a
fledgling legislature foundered; the day-to-day lives of thousands were
determined by the price of votes. As the dust settled, corporate monopoly snuck
in, a looter amid the rubble, to control the political and economic tide for
decades to come.
As
Congress debated the merits of Montana’s statehood, the territory’s mining
cities were booming. Although gold mining had proved only moderately successful,
miners returned to the Rockies’ gold camps some time later seeking the rich
silver deposits that, ironically, had made Montana gold less valuable. Silver
mining thrived, and former ghost towns like Butte City sprang to life once more.
As
silver miners flooded Butte City, the more experienced among them noted the
proliferation of a rich red metal just below the surface. Tests revealed that
Butte copper was of remarkable quality.
The
discovery of copper in Butte coincided with three inventions – telegraph,
telephone, and incandescent light bulb – that depended on copper wire
to conduct electricity. Copper miners needed little education, key in an
era when only the wealthy attended college, and were drawn to the high wages
associated with life in the mines. Butte’s population exploded overnight.
Congress could no longer ignore mining’s influence, and Montana was granted
statehood in 1889.
Two
major players in copper’s rise were Marcus Daly and William Clark. Clark
arrived in Bannack, Mont., in 1863, where he placer mined for a year. He sold
his holdings for $2,000; according to historian and author Michael Malone,
“This bankroll . . . formed the embryo of the fabled Clark fortune.”
Clark
used the money to begin a traveling dry goods business. He also began making
loans at exorbitant interest rates. In 1872, Clark and partners opened the First
National Bank of Deer Lodge. The same year marked Clark’s first visit to
Butte, where he bought four mine claims: the Original, Colusa, Mountain Chief
and Gambetta.
Marcus
Daly began his mining career in California, then traveled to Nevada and later
Utah, where he was hired as foreman of the Emma mine in 1870. In 1876 the
Emma’s owners sent Daly to Butte to appraise some holdings. After negotiating
several purchases along the Rainbow Lode, Daly moved to Butte to manage the new
acquisitions.
Copper
is purified through smelting, in which the copper is heated to a high
temperature, causing waste products to melt or burn off. In the early days of
Butte’s copper boom, ore was shipped to smelters in other areas of the
country, a time-consuming and expensive process. Daly built the area’s
first smelter 26 miles from Butte and personally laid out the surrounding
townsite. He called it Anaconda after his most profitable mine. From its birth,
Anaconda was Daly’s pride and joy.
No one
knows what began Clark and Daly’s battle. Some speculate that Clark made
racist epithets about Daly’s Turkish business partner Ben Ali Haggin. Others
trace the feud to Clark’s dismissal of Daly’s mining success as “dumb
luck.” Butte scholar Professor Dennis Swibold contends that tension between
Cornish and Irish immigrants, who competed for mining jobs, lent to the
conflict. Clark was Scottish and Protestant, while Daly was Irish and Catholic.
Whatever the cause, the mining magnates found themselves in a fierce battle that
soon involved much of the infant state.
The
dispute’s most potent weapon was the newspaper. From its inception, Butte has
loved its newspapers; some estimate that 85 newspapers have circulated in the
city since the Butte Miner debuted in
1876. Many prominent citizens, especially politicians, found it easier to own a
newspaper than to try to control editorial content through means such as libel
suits. In the late 19th century, many of America’s rich and
powerful had a hand in journalism. Clark, who always aspired to follow the
trends of the affluent, purchased the Butte
Miner soon after becoming an established millionaire.
Clark
had built an impressive political resume by this time and in 1888 decided to run
for the territory’s Congressional representative. His opponent, Thomas Carter,
was not expected to present a challenge to the prominent copper baron. When
Clark was inexplicably upset, he blamed his defeat (fairly, most historians
concede) on Daly. The Butte Miner
called the loss “the deepest kind of treachery among the supposed friends of
Mr. Clark.”
Daly
was helpless against the bold headlines splashed across the Miner’s
pages. He responded with two of his most powerful attributes – money and power
– when he hired Syracuse Standard
editor John Durston and poured $500,000 into a new broadsheet, the Anaconda
Standard. The Standard’s first
issue rolled off the presses in September 1889, and the paper war was on.
One
major battle took place in an early Montana election. In 1892 election, two
major issues were on the line: another senate election and the placement of the
new state’s capital. Once again, Clark was running for public office, and once
again Daly was determined to keep his foe out of the Capitol.
Prior
to the 17th Amendment’s passage in 1913, United States Senators
were elected by state legislatures. Clark and Daly both had the money to sway
Montana’s electors, and neither hesitated to use it.
The
end result was predictable: the legislative session ended in deadlock. Governor
John Rickards appointed Butte’s mayor, Lee Mantle, to the vacant seat. On
Capitol Hill, many senators were angered by Mantle’s appointment, viewing it
as the act of a cowardly legislature. The Senate refused to seat Mantle;
as a result, Montana had only one
senator for over a year.
The
other major issue of the election – the permanent site of Montana’s capital
- ended in deadlock as well. Although Helena garnered the most
votes, it did not receive a majority; thus, the capital battle was postponed
until 1894. Daly loved “his city,” Anaconda, and was determined for it to
become the capital. Clark hated Daly and was equally determined to see the
Copper City’s defeat. He backed Helena, home of some of his powerful financial
contacts.
It has
been said that Daly spent $2.5 million and Clark spent $400,000 buying votes in
the capital war. The Copper Kings exercised their considerable influence in a
number of ways. First, they eliminated competitors that could steal votes from
their chosen cities. Missoula, Bozeman, Butte and Dillon were promised state
universities in exchange for their support; Deer Lodge and Boulder received the
state prison and orphanage, respectively. Newspapers throughout the state also
fell under their control. Daly poured $10-$15,000 into the Billings Gazette only to have Clark buy back the paper’s loyalty.
Daly, in return, bought the Bozeman
Chronicle, which had been a pro-Clark publication. The Copper Kings
understood the significance of the “free” press and intensified their
newspaper battles. Political cartoonists lampooned the “Helena hog” and
“Anaconda snake.” Playing on the common distrust of foreigners in the late
19th century, the Miner’s
cartoons often featured a turbaned caricature of Daly’s financial backer Ben
Ali Haggan. The Standard often ran 60
inches of editorials as the rivalry grew heated.
The Butte Miner and Clark’s money finally brought victory to Helena.
Clark openly gloated in his long-awaited victory; after buying rounds for much
of the new capital city, his bar tab totaled $30,000. Daly was heartbroken by
the outcome of the race and spent considerably more time in New York and at his
horse farm in Hamilton after the defeat.
The
feud cooled temporarily after the 1894 election when the Copper Kings joined
forces to back presidential candidate William Jennings Bryant, whose “Free
Silver” platform meant immense profits for the mining barons. Things heated up
again in 1899, however, when Clark announced his intention to run for the Senate
once more. Daly, whose health had failed, was no longer a key player in the
feud. However, a giant payroll, a powerful newspaper, and the merger of Daly’s
holdings with Standard Oil meant that he was still a force to be reckoned with.
This
time around, Clark’s vote-buying erupted into scandal when Flathead County
Senator Fred Whiteside announced that he had been offered $30,000 as a bribe.
Whiteside was eventually unseated from the legislature and Clark won the
election, but the Standard’s
extensive coverage of the debacle ensured that those in power in Washington
would know all the sordid details when Clark arrived. When the Senate rejected
Clark, he attempted one of political history’s most desperate moves. He had
Governor Robert B. Smith called out of the state on business, which meant that
Clark’s ally A.B. Spriggs was acting governor. Spriggs tried to appoint Clark
to the senate seat left vacant by his rejection. The move was quickly foiled,
and once again Clark left the state of Montana without a Senator.
The
paper battles continued even after Daly’s death in 1900. Teaming with
Butte’s third copper king, F. Augustus Heinze, Clark and the Butte
Miner took on the Anaconda Company, the conglomerate formed by Standard Oil
and Daly’s mine holdings. The Company retaliated by buying up powerful state
newspapers.
Clark
was finally seated in the Senate in 1901. Upon his election, he became an ally
of the Anaconda Company and in 1910 sold his mine holdings to his former
enemy’s company. The Butte Miner and
Anaconda Standard consolidated to become the Montana Standard, a “Company paper” infamous for its lack of
coverage on stories that portrayed the Company negatively.
During the “War of the Copper Kings,” Montana was controlled by the spite of two men and newspapers that tried to dignify what was essentially a schoolyard fight. The Standard and Miner exemplified the era of yellow journalism: sensational, often untrue stories that drew readers but also brought shame and embarrassment to the state. The end result – a paper that, until its takeover by the Lee Newspaper Syndicate in 1959, blatantly ignored Company misconduct – could hardly be called a victory for either side. In the end, the explosion that was copper journalism was like all explosions – a destructive and noisy force that produced little if anything at all.