Welcome to Obach

Welcome to Obach, Montana, a thriving little community on Frenchman Creek about 40 miles north of Hinsdale. Obach was established early in 1916 with the arrival of the Obach and Wachula families from Canada. Anna Obach, wife of Tom Obach, and Polly Wachula, wife of Mike Wachula, were sisters. Tom and Mike had heard about the free land in the United States for homesteading. All you had to do was “prove up” on your homestead for five years and it was yours, free and clear. Early in the spring of 1916 the Obach and Wachula families loaded all their possessions on ox carts and headed south to the “promised land”.

Shortly after their arrival on the northern plains near Meharry, Montana, both families undertook the first task of providing shelter. The first Obach home was a two room sod house. Chunks of prairie sod were cut in the size and shapes of bricks and stacked on each other as you would stack bricks for a building. A space was left for a window and a door, a wooden roof was installed, and sod was placed on the wooden roof to prevent leaks from the rain and snow. The walls, both inside and out, were covered with a mixture of cow mature, straw, and whitewash. This gave the dwelling a clean plastered look and sealed the cracks against the wind.

The following years saw several substantial wooden buildings constructed. A fine wooden house, for the growing Obach family, was built. In the same area a wooden home for the Wachula family was also built. A granary, barns, corrals, and tools sheds were added. The families grew and prospered. In 1919 it was decided to use the old Obach sod house as the new Obach school. The sod house was repaired and restored, and a school teacher was hired. Children from up and down Frenchman Creek came to the Obach school to be taught by the school teacher Bonnie O’Brien, who taught all 12 grades in one classroom.

Bonnie O’Brien also became the correspondent for the Phillips County News reporting all the news from Obach, Montana. Obach, Montana consisted of the Obach homestead, the Wachula homestead, and the Obach school. At one time this consisted of five adults and sixteen children from the Obach and Wachula households alone. The following articles were submitted in 1935 to the Phillips County News from their correspondent in the field, literally.

In September of 1935, Tom and Anna Obach, and the Obach children still living at home, decided to leave the homestead in eastern Montana and move to Charlo in western Montana where there was a constant supply of water for irrigating crops. Year round streams and rivers meant they would not have to depend on rain fall to have a good crop. They were moving to Hinsdale for the winter so the children could attend school. Education was extremely important to Anna, and she encouraged her children and grandchildren to get the best education they could. In the process of moving, their oldest son, Michael, was struck by a car and killed. This loss devastated the entire family. In the spring of 1936 the family continued their journey to Charlo. Tom died of cancer in August of 1938, Anna continued to farm and raise her family in the Charlo area. I was born in July of 1938, three weeks before my grandfather Thomas John Obach died. I was named after my grandfather.

I had the rare good fortune to visit my cousin (several times removed) Sally Ivanovitch Austin in August of 1996. This was the first time I had seen Sally in over 40 years. Sally was a most gracious and generous hostess, and spent an entire day taking me, my wife Marilyn, and our Aunt Helen (Mickie) Obach Marshall to visit the homestead on Frenchman Creek. I am the oldest Obach grandson and, I believe, the only Obach grandchild to visit the homestead.

We started out by all four of us “piling in” the cab of Sally’s pickup. Sally drove us up to the US / Canadian border, then in to “no man’s land” between the two countries. From there we drove along the US border, in the United States, passing the ranch that was the northern end of the Texas cattle drives. The Texas cattle were driven to the grassy plains of Montana to fatten them for market. The same grassy plains that nurtured millions of American buffalo. Our journey continued eastward until we crossed Frenchman Creek, or as it is called locally, the “Frenchman”. At the point where we crossed the creek there is no bridge. During high water there is a bucket chair suspended on a cable across the Frenchman. To cross you merely climb up into the chair and pull yourself across using the cable. The cable is about 40 feet above the creek so there is little danger of you getting wet. Unless, of course, you fall out of the bucket chair.

We crossed the Frenchman and literally drove up the side of a mountain. Fortunately there were two ruts that we could follow up to the top of the canyon. Once at the top it was just a short drive to the homestead. Sally stopped the truck and Marilyn was the first to get out on our side.

I stepped out and instantly felt as if I had been transported back in time. I began to walk the same ground that my grandfather had walked and I could feel his presence. The constant wind still echoed conversations of long ago. I wondered if it felt the same to my grandfather, as it did to me, when he first walked this land. What were his thoughts, his dreams, his ambitions? This handsome young man who loved to dance and adored his children. Am I, somehow, in some way, like him?

I walked over to a pile of rusting farm machinery and picked up a rusted piece laying on the ground. This was the same equipment that my grandfather had toiled and sweated over to provide food for his family. How great the risks, how small the rewards.

Sally pointed out where the old sod school house had once stood. Being sod, it has long since disappeared with the rain. Parts of the Obach wooden house are still there. The walls have been pushed in and the roof has collapsed to prevent the cattle from falling through the rotting wooden floors. The foundation of the Wachula home is still visible, although the wooden house itself is no longer there. The cement foundation for the granary is still there and will probably remain for many years to come. I walked over to a fence where Sally pointed out the location of the barns. Down in the ravine was the dam my grandfather had built to store water. It still holds water.

I walked back and forth over the same piece of ground several times, as if something was pulling me to that particular location. I could not imagine what was so special about that spot. Sally told me it was the front of the house where everyone gathered. Had they gathered there for me? Every time I visit Montana I try to visit my grandfathers grave in St. Ignatius. I have always had this very special feeling whenever I visited his grave. I had that same special feeling when I visited his homestead. Standing outside his home I picked up a piece of broken plate. Another reminder that once there was laughter and hard times, sunshine and blizzards, the joy of birth and the sadness of death, the cycle of life in this little community.

Walking back to the rusting pile of machinery, I stooped to pick up a metal ring, brown with years of rust. Sally told me it was an axle ring from the ox cart that first brought the Obach family to Montana. I brought the axle ring back for my son Mark. I brought back a plow share for my son Richard, a fire door from the cast iron stove for my daughter Lorraina, and a piece of the hay rake for my son Matthew. A connection for each of them to the past. I brought back a brick from the chimney for myself.

I didn’t want to leave but I knew it was time to go. Sally had been gone all day and had to get home. We had to drive back to Malta that evening. It was now late in the afternoon and we had not eaten anything since breakfast. Needless to say, we were getting very hungry.

I took one long last look. A look that will probably have to last me a long time. I can still see the long rolling hills to the east and the Frenchman and the “breaks” to the west. This is Big Sky country, it is hard to imagine the vast open prairie until you have actually experienced it. Endless sky and endless horizon. Beautiful “for spacious skies and amber waves of grain”.

We once again took our positions in the cab of the pickup as Sally started the journey back to Whitewater. I kept looking out the window searching the hills for something that I could not explain. As we bounced along the rutted road, I found the ride very relaxing. There seemed to be an unusual serenity about the landscape as if it was saying “Thank you for your visit”. We eventually reached Whitewater, had dinner in the local cafe with Sally, and returned to Malta.

We spent several hours in Malta searching for Michael Obach’s grave at the local cemetery. We never did locate the exact grave site. We visited the Malta Public Library to research whatever information we could regarding the family. They gave us the Phillips County News for 1934, 1935, and 1936 to review. To our surprise and delight we discovered all of the articles about Obach written by Bonnie O’Brien and the article about the accident and death of Michael. Many thanks to the delightful library personnel who were so helpful and shared in our joy of discovery. Many thanks also to the very helpful people in the Phillips County records department. And many, many thanks to a truly wonderful cousin who made my trip an experience I will always cherish. Thank you, Sally.

We spent a very short 2 1/2 days in Malta and the surrounding area. I definitely want to go back and visit the homestead with my children. Show them part of their “roots” to appreciate where they are. To share in the discovery of their history. To connect.

Correspondents for the Phillips County News were recruited from many communities, both large and small. Not every community responded each week. Some of the communities that did submit news items in 1935 were; Lovejoy, Harb, Loring, Wagner, Victory, Tatnall, Bowdoin, Leedy, Saco, Content, Rudolph Valley, Valleytown, Freewater, Strater, Sun Prairie, Garden Valley, Dodson, North Wagner, Cottonwood, Telegraph Creek, Whitewater, South Dodson, Beaver Valley, and Legg.