The Mountain Man
The legend of Earl Durand

The mountain moon's a ridin'
on the stallion of the night;
with snowflakes softly glidin'
down its flowing mane of light.
The midnight winds are siftin'
through the driftin' flakes of snow;
and you can hear 'em whistlin'
through the pine trees as they blow

Some think my trail's a lonely one...
without a soul in sight;
with no one there t' talk to
save the wailin' winds of night.
But what I am's a mountain man.
I do jus' fine out here.
I've mostly slept beneath the sky.
I feed on elk and deer.

Good friends, these mountains are t' me.....
the kindest ones I've known;
and when I'm in these mountains,
I 'm never quite alone.
I like t' hear the whisperin’
of a gentle mornin' breeze;
and listen t' the birdsong
that's pourin' from the trees

A posse's out there after me
with bullets by the score.
But they won't take this mountain man
the way  they did before.
I've gotta keep on ridin' now,
and hidin' from the law....
avoidin' men, evading them-
holed up in some dark draw.
I killed game outta season,
but the reason for my plight
is, when they jailed me, I escaped,
and killed while during flight.
 
I couldn't breath...I couldn't think.....
went crazy in that cell.
It stripped me of my reason;
and delivered me t' hell.
No longer was I human,
but an animal confined;
without the human faculties
that bless the human mind.

A mountain man is what I am....
unfettered, wild and free.-
and nevermore will prison bars
mock the man in me.
Nor will they hang this mountain man.
Of this I'm sure for I've
resolved that they will never take
this mountain man alive.

And when their bullets find me-
as their bullets surely will-
a free, unfettered mountain man
is what they're gonna kill.
The mountain moon's a ridin'
on the stallion of the night;
with snowflakes softly slidin' down
its silvery tail of light.
When I am dead and buried
and this flight from terror ends,
I'll mount that coal-black stallion
and rejoin my mountain friends.

             Bette Wolf  Duncan
                 copyright 2000

 

                 

You have your choice folks-   Go back to home page,   next poem....or what I recommend.. just continue reading about the man who inspired this poem, Earl Durand.

 

                                                                                

 MOUNTAIN MAN

   As a child during the 30s I walked home from school for noon lunch. Nearly all my classmates did the same.  All of the family was home for a hot meal; and we ate at the table together.  The radio, however, was sometimes the focus of our attention.  One bulletin that we waited for anxiously was the latest news about Earl Durand. Some folks called him the Tarzan of the Tetons; and others, the Robin Hood of the Rockies.  He was a true woodsman and mountain man, on that everyone agreed. To most of these people ( and that included nearly every one in the neighborhood and those folk that I personally knew) he was somewhat of a folk hero whom  they had compassion and sympathy for, if not admiration.  To other folk, he was something of a joke and a criminal. Who was Earl Durand?
      The book pictured on the left, THE LAST DAYS OF EARL DURAND, published in 2005 presents actual accounts of people who knew Earl Durand or who were  involved in the tragic events that took place in his last days. The author, Jerred Metz, interviewed and taped fourteen people in Cody, Powell and Billings Montana who played a role in the ordeal. He present their accounts; and then leaves it up to the reader to make a determination: folk hero or joke and criminal?  (The quotes in italics are all taken from this book.)

     He was a remarkable athlete  about 6 foot 2 inches, weighing close to 200 pounds (none of which was fat). He ran miles every day;  and it was said that he could cover 40 miles at night at a lope.  He lived in the mountains from April through October, keeping himself alive with his gun, his knife and his wits.  Durand wasn't completely opposed to eating meat cooked, but he preferred it raw. During the winter months, he lived in a wall tent behind  his parent's home.  Durand had difficulty remaining in closed in rooms for any length of time. He kept a kerosene stove burning when it got cold; but he became used to a chill that would be intolerable to most people. Durand had difficulty remaining in closed in rooms for any length of time. One young teen age neighbor who used to hunt antelope with Durand, Dick Smith, said, "He felt trapped, stifled when he was inside buildings for more than a few minutes. He hadn't slept inside his parent's home since he was sixteen."  (The photo of Earl Durand that appears on this web page  belonged to Smith and was later given to Sheriff Blackburn.)

        His marksmanship was legendary. On hunting parties, he always killed the most game. During the Depression, game made up a large part of the diet in that region. In those days, people in that area of the country, weren't overly concerned with game wardens or licenses for hunting or fishing. Earl killed game for the poor and hungry, dressed it for them, and was invited to many a dinner in  the homes of the people he fed.

     In March of 1939, Durand, two teen age companions and the father of one of the boys killed four elk out of season.  A resident of the area  notified the authorities. Two game wardens began an investigation that ended with their waiting at the Shoshone Forest boundary for the hunters to return with the evidence. To quote the Cody Enterprise: "Finally in pitch darkness, a car came roaring down the highway. The two wardens tried to halt it by standing in its way. Slowing down only slightly, it barely missed one of the wardens. The other warden sprang onto the running board, whereupon the occupants tried to throw him off until he poked his pistol into the driver's ribs, saying, 'Stop, or I'll stop you!'"  Durand, carrying his rifle, jumped from the car on the passenger side and disappeared into the darkness. The game wardens brought Durand's companions to Cody where they were taken before a judge. The older man was sentenced to two months in jail and a $100 fine for having two elk in his possession. The two teen age boys were released after what was described as a blistering lecture by the judge.

      Durand spent the night on rattlesnake Mountain, just west of Cody. The next morning a  rancher found two of his cattle shot. A calf was dead and missing a single hunk of meat from its flank. While poaching was illegal, it was fairly widespread...but killing cattle was an act that no Wyomingite condoned.  The rancher telephoned Deputy Sheriff Noah Riley who, supposing Durand to be responsible, joined the two game wardens in the search. Another rancher and a former game warden added themselves to the party as they tracked Durand  to rattlesnake Mountain. The party was able to get the drop on him, disarming him and bringing him into Cody. Durand pleaded guilty to killing two elk and was sentenced to six months in jail and a $100 fine.

     During his incarceration, Deputy Riley taunted Durand, telling him that he'd get twenty years in the state pen; and that he'd forget what the mountains looked like by the time he got out. Cody lawyer, Milward R. Simpson ( later governor and Wyoming Senator), said that Durand used to stand close to the cell door glowering, holding the bars tight while Riley taunted him. Late in the afternoon on that Thursday, March 16, about 5:30 pm, Riley, brought the prisoners their evening meal. Although jail regulations prohibited guards from going into cells with their revolvers on, Riley entered Durand's cell with his revolver in a holster. When he opened Durand's cell, Durand grabbed the milk bottle, hit him over the head, took his revolver and an additional rifle, and prepared to escape. Durand took Riley hostage and told him, "I couldn't stand it in that hole anymore. The air's bad".

     Durand  forced Riley to drive to the home of Durand's parents, presumably to get provisions and gear.   By now word of his escape complete with the description of the commandeered car had reached Powell.  A car fitting that description was reported to have been seen approaching the Durand home.  Shortly afterwards, a neighbor, Virginia Taylor arrived at the Durand farm. She told Durand to go back to Cody and give himself up. Durand told her, "I can't stand it there. The air's dead. I'd die there."  A deputy sheriff  and the Cody town marshal  went to the Durand farmhouse to take him into custody. Durand shot them both; and both died.

     He told his mother, "It was them or me! I'm going  to the mountain where they won't find me. This is the last time you'll see me."  After that, Durand appeared at several farmhouses gathering supplies. One such neighbor was Art Glascow. Durand told Glascow that he had killed two men. Glascow said that Durand told him, "I warned them to stay away. They were gonna slip up behind the trees and close in on me. They thought they'd get the drop on me. I'm not going back to jail." Durand stopped at the Herf Graham place; and here he left a letter with an envelope addressed to Sheriff Blackburn.  In the corner he had written  a return address: "Earl Durand, Undertaker's Office, Powell, Wyoming." The penciled letter said this, in part:

My Dear Mr. Blackburn,
        . . . .   
    Of course I know that I'm done for and when you kill me I suggest you have my head mounted and hang it up in the courthouse for the sake of law and order. Y our beloved enemy,
                               Earl Durand

      A conference of sheriffs, deputy sheriffs and under sheriffs took place; and eventually four groups  were deployed to patrol the nearby hills and the area around the Durand home. One of the men who aspired to join the posse was a man who had himself been recently been convicted of poaching, Orville Linabary. Sheriff Blackstone, who was in charge of the posse, told him that he wasn't interested in a poacher hunting another poacher.   The sheriff told Linabary that neither he nor his side kick, a man named Argento had any business on the mountain. Linabray replied that they had business on the mountain with Earl Durand. Linabray had previously bragged, "We'll get that bugger's scalp. It'll be just like hunting a big dumb bear out in the open." Blackstone eventually ended up with about 72 men in the posse; and because Durand was likely to head for the area of the Beartooths that extended across the border to Montana, The Montana National Guard was called out.

The Denver Post on March 25, 1939  reported this:

One man against the world is the situation  up in the Beartooth mountain country of northern Wyoming. Earl Durand, killer and mountaineer of prodigious skill, is holed up in a natural fortress....trapped on the mountains.

       Durand was able to elude the posse - he was actually in hiding along Bitter Creek not far from his parents' home. Durand was eventually  sighted in an inaccessible rocky fortress up the side of a cliff between Little Rocky Creek and the mouth of the canyon. To reach him from above was virtually impossible. To storm his location was suicide. Despite warnings not to try it from both the Sheriff and Durand himself, Linabary and his sidekick, Argento, rushed the hideout.  Durand's bullets stopped them. Durand then took a stolen deputy sheriff badge that was on the chest of the dead Linabray.   At this point, afraid even to retrieve the bodies, the posse withdrew  from the canyon. In reply to an inquiry by a newspaperman as to whether they had Durand cornered, a spokesman for the posse stated: "We haven't got him cornered by any means. He's got us cornered." The posse returned to  to their base camp, where they were met by the Montana National Guard

          Knowing the survival skills of this man of the mountains, the posse never dreamed he would head in any direction other than deeper into the mountains. That was their mistake. On  about the seventh day of their search, vehicle occupants noticed a man sitting on a boulder by the road. He had a rifle and wore a deputy's badge. He flagged down the car. Identifying himself as a posse member, he requested a ride to the base camp, asking that they stop down the road where he had left his bedroll. After placing his bedroll in the trunk of the car, Durand identified himself  and requested that the car be turned around and headed toward Powell. This was done.

   The car skirted the business district of Powell, driving through the south outskirts on to Deaver, 16 miles away, to the railroad depot where Durand reportedly picked up 300 rounds of ammunition he had previously ordered. At Deaver, Durand noticed the car was low on gas and filled it up - paying for it..... which he  was only right under the circumstances. They then returned to Powell where Durand stopped at his parents' home, to pick up some belongings from the tent he lived in. He told his parents good-bye.

     Durand next directed the driver to drive north of Powell toward the Pine Bluffs coal mine. When they arrived, Durand told the three vehicle occupants he was taking the car and that they could walk the three miles to the nearest ranch. He asked  if the car was insured and seemed pleased to find that it was covered by theft insurance. As Durand drove away with the car, he called out, "Come to my funeral, boys," and honked the horn as he disappeared over the hill. The three men men walked to the nearest ranch. From there they were driven to the closest telephone. By the time they called Powell, Durand was dead.
 
     Just what Durand did during the hour after he left, no one knows; but about an hour later he parked the car about just  east of the First National Bank in Powell, and made his way hurriedly to the bank. He approached the bank president and announced he was robbing the bank. There were nine people in the bank at the time - five of them were customers. Armed with the Winchester and with a revolver in a holster on his belt, Durand ordered the employees and customers to line up facing the wall. Convinced by a cashier  that the safe could not be opened because of a time lock, Durand emptied out the cash drawers, taking between $2000 and $3000.       

      Then the unexplainable happened. Durand had ample funds to finance his getaway, a car waiting outside the bank, nearly all the law enforcement officers were still convinced he was deep in the mountains; and no one aware that he was even in town. For some reason, Durand suddenly opened fire inside the bank. An estimated 40-60 rounds hit walls, windows, ceiling  for ten minutes or so. Then all of a sudden, four men stepped into the doorway of the bank with  their hands tied together with a leather thong. Durand was behind this human shield. Directly in front of the bank was a gas station. Among the men inside was a 17-year-old Powell high school junior who was skipping school that afternoon. He had wandered into the gas station as the robbery was in progress and hit the floor along with the others when the shooting began. For some reason, the gas station owner gave him a rifle.  Guns were fired at the men from all directions in the panic that ensued. Unfortunately, one of the hostages was  mortally wounded. (The bullet that killed him was not Durand's.)  The high school student fired on Duran from the doorway of the gas station. The bullet felled Durand but did not kill him. Durand crawled back into the bank where he took his own life.

        Opinions vary as to the character of Durand - folk hero or villain.  The foregoing poem does not purport to set out all of actual facts but only to try to capture the character of Earl Durand as I perceived it to be, at the time. (I was then about nine years old.)

               

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