Black Woman’s Still
Oil on Canvas
18″ x 14″
Sold
Cummings Ranch
Bertie Brown, known locally as Nigger Bertie, was a jolly, good-natured soul, rather short and heavy-set. What endeared her to the citizens most, though, was not her kindness, it was her booze. Folks claimed it was the absolute best hooch produced anywhere in the U.S. of A. Since it was the good ole’ days of Prohibition, when hidden distilleries were producing moonshine everywhere across our great nation, this was quite an honor.
Born in Missouri in 1871, Bertie came to the Lewistown area in 1898. She lived in Gilt Edge first, then was five years in the Valentine area before she found her dream land on Brickyard Creek, between Lewistown and Grass Range. She homesteaded the 160 acre parcel in 1913. There she built her house, a lovely structure with two main rooms, a kitchen and pantry addition, a lean-to, and a walk-around porch on the east and north sides of the cabin. Upstairs was her bedroom, which she shared with her lover, Jack King, who owned one of the neighboring ranches. No one dared question their relationship, for Jack was known as a chap that did not take kindly to unwanted questions and carried a pistol for giving quick answers. In fact, Jack carried that pistol to the date of his death in the 40’s. Her still was hidden on or near Jack’s ranch on Brickyard Creek, which supplied the water to create her potent liquid.
What made her house unique was its spotless parlor, a cross between a package liquor store, a modern well-stocked bar, and charming living room. Here the locals could buy a pint to take home, have a shot or two or more as they passed through, or sit and visit while sampling the most recent batch of spirits. Bertie, with her beloved black cat as her constant companion, was a kind, friendly bartender and hostess.
The ranch included several out-buildings: a double-doored log building, which served as root cellar; a small barn, perhaps for her Leghorn chickens; a log outhouse; and a bunkhouse. She kept a herd of about 50 cattle and tried raising sheep, though that venture failed.
Bertie adored music and owned the first radio in that part of the state. Her second passion was the Montgomery Ward catalog, and she always had plenty of cash to order whatever she desired. Her third love was children, and she always welcomed her neighbors’ little ones with candy and eggs. Lee and Eleanor Fields were her nearest friends.
Now the good, honorable folks of Lewistown did not approve of the carrying-ons at the Brown ranch and were always after the prohibition officer to close Ms. Bertie down and end this disgusting, drunken debauchery. Supposedly, though, she shared her home-brew with Office Hill, which might explain his repeated warnings never materialized into an arrest. However, the citizens became more vocal, and Hill finally was forced to inform Bertie that the moonshine she was then brewing would be her last or jail would be her home.
Unfortunately, the last run was one batch too many, for the still blew up with Bertie inside. Some of her clothes needed a dry cleaning, and she decided to sponge them down with gasoline in the room where the still was cooking the brew. Whether it was an accident or perhaps a botched attempt at suicide will never be known. Eleanor Fields was with her before the ambulance whisked her to the hospital. She was terribly burned and parts of her brain were exposed. Bertie knew this was a one-way ride, so she pleaded with Eleanor to care for her precious pet. Sadly, once the ambulance pulled away the cat could never be found. However, the present owners swear that now and then a black cat is sitting in the living room window looking out. Could it be a descendent of Bertie’s precious cat or just a stray gone wild? If you believe in the paranormal, the thought must cross your mind that the kitty could just possibly be Nigger Bertie’s spirit still inhabiting her cherished home.
Bertie was 62 when she died in May of ’33, five days after the accident.