That other George

In my younger days, often spent seeking new and different adventures, it was not on my “bucket list” to go out drinking beer with some strange guy pushing a hundred years of age and let him drive. But that is exactly what happened in Sheridan, Wyoming in the summer of 1981.

Pertinent to this wondrous memory is the fact the man’s name was George Ostrom. Besides being a hero of the Spanish/American War under General Pershing, he fought in many major battles of World War I, riding his own cavalry horse somehow smuggled from Wyoming to Europe. He also gained a wide reputation for artistic talent by making a visual history of those battles with pen and ink and later designed the bucking horse which is on the Wyoming license plate.

He came home from war and became a famed wolf hunter, thus becoming a major factor in wiping out the last big lobo packs from Wyoming and Montana. He may have personally killed several thousand and carefully composed many big, detailed sketches of wolves and his control operations. He told me he despised wolves at first, but came to respect and admire them.

I recently came into possession of a large, detailed George N. Ostrom drawing of western wildlife, much different than other works of art in my collection, which he had given to me. This got me to fondly recalling our beer drinking party.

I had a speaking engagement at the Montana Cattleman’s Association Convention in Miles City in August, 1981. After my speech, it occurred to me that Sheridan was not far off my drive home, so I called George and told him I’d like to stop by the next day for a short visit. I told him I knew about some of his exploits and wanted to do a newspaper story. He replied that he had read some of my articles in Sports Afield magazine and a few Hungry Horse columns. He said he would like a visit.

I got to Sheridan shortly after noon and we sat around shooting the bull for several fascinating hours at his home on a hill just above the downtown area.

Suddenly, he said, “This has been a great get together, so I’ve got to take you our for a beer.” During our visit, I had learned he worked for the government several years after the wolves were gone, including teaching special classes at the college in Bozeman. He retired at age 65 and had gone to work as a ranch appraiser for a bank in Sheridan, before retiring just a few days before my visit. He did mention in a semi-serious manner, he thought he was 100 years old.

Outside, I told him I would drive, but he’d have no part of that and insisted that we go in his Jeep. Down the hill we went and he drove through a stop sign at the main intersection, telling me nobody pays any attention to that if there are no cars close. We soon arrived at a very old, but beautifully maintained, hotel with a big, fancy hardwood bar off the lobby. He said the building had been built by Buffalo Bill Cody and was now owned by a wealthy local ranch lady, who had spent much money rebuilding it.

We went into the bar, where a few folks were having drinks. Near the north wall was a fancy curve in the long bar and a large cowboy was sitting there with a female companion. George walked over and told them they would have to move because he wanted “his guest” to sit where the cowboy was. I was a bit worried about their potential reaction, but they apparently knew who he was and moved.

I sat on the appointed stool and George took the next one. “Now,” he said, “George, you are sitting right where Buffalo Bill was sitting the first time we had a talk.” We had one big draft beer and I talked George into leaving.

It has been a hope for me to write a book about George N. Ostrom, but I never got it done. However, an author just finished one last year and I am certainly going to get a copy. It has many of his wartime drawings as well as old photos. The book also says he died in Sheridan in 1982 at age 97. I recall a banker I talked to in Sheridan felt George was 100 when he retired there, but who knows for sure?

There are times when I wonder if he ever got driving tickets, drank more than one beer or ever got punched in the nose by a big cowboy, but I only have good memories of my drinking buddy, George N. Ostrom.

G.George Ostrom is an award winning columnist from Kalispell.