The Adventures of Ramblin' Rose: Quake Cake

My family first came to Montana in 1959 on our way to Alaska. My folks were looking for a new place to hang their hats. They hailed from California but felt it was getting too crowded. Coming from pioneer stock (one of my father's ancestors, Eugene Skinner, founded Eugene, Oregon), they knew it was time to head for greener and emptier pastures. On our way to Alaska, we detoured through Montana to visit some relatives who were part owners in a guest ranch. Everyone promptly lost their hearts to the endless blue skies, the flower-covered hills, the sharp edge of the mountains and the salt-of the-earth-people.

Although I was four at the time, I still remember, as if it were yesterday, what it felt like to arrive in Montana that first time. It was like a duckling seeing water for the first time, or the carrier pigeon returning home after being released in some unknown place. It was love at first sight, and deja vu all rolled into one, big, cheek-hurting, ear-to-ear smile. If it's true we pick our parents before conception, I know I picked mine because they were going to end up in Montana.

We stayed at my mom's relatives' guest ranch, the Diamond J. My folks didn't know it at the time but they had been hand-selected to buy that ranch and carry on its dude ranch tradition...

In the 1920s, Julia Bennett came from the east as a dude, herself, and stayed at a guest ranch in the Gallatin Valley. She fell in love with the life-style and started looking for some property to create her own dude ranch. She found a homestead ranch, up a small canyon that featured rocky cliffs and the rushing stream of Jackass Creek.

With the help of family members and other hired hands, the Diamond J was built, log cabin style. The logs that were used were cut from the surrounding hills and dragged by horses down to the ranch. Besides the main lodge, barn and the Branding Iron (the happy hour cabin), 7 cabins were built of various sizes. Sparing no expense, Julia ordered special Pendleton wool blankets made with the Diamond J brand, hickory furniture from the Ozarks, Diamond J china, and claw-foot tubs. The cabins were all built with sod-roofs. I still remember that first year staring open-mouthed at a house with grass on its roof. Perhaps someday, when it's time to replace the roofs again, they'll go back to sod roofs.

Julia opened the ranch in the 1930s, the height of the depression. Every winter she went to New York City and promoted the ranch by setting up her booth in a hotel lobby. The descendants of Julia have a picture of her standing on a veranda with the Empire State Building in the background. She's in her Western cowgirl outfit, looking very dashing, standing in front of her display of the ranch promotional material with a buffalo skin for a backdrop. Across from her is one of the famous Sioux chiefs, who is signing to her that the buffalo were no more, gone forever.

Once Julia built up her summer guest list, she opened up another guest ranch in Arizona. Each year the horses were trucked back and forth from one guest ranch to the other. The same guests that came in the summer, visited her other ranch in the winter and got to ride their favorite horse! One of the ranch's most famous guests was Gary Cooper who was born in Helena, Montana.

By the 1950s she was ready to retire and she sold the ranch to four of her guests. They each took some acreage and built their own summer homes on them and then sold the rest of the ranch to my folks...

Shortly after we returned home after our visit to the ranch as dudes, the now historic earthquake of 1959 occurred, just 60 miles from the ranch. For most folks that might have been an omen to not return, but coming from California it just made Montana feel more familiar. In the fall of '59, my father flew up to Montana to finalize the purchasing of the ranch. Being only four, I didn't quite get the concept of what was being bought. When he came back I excitedly demanded to see "it." Patting the side of his jacket, he said he had it right there in his pocket. I know that was a joke somehow, because I had seen Montana, and it was too big to fit in any pocket.

We packed up and moved in the spring of 1960...at least it was spring when we left California. It was still winter when we arrived in Montana. We had to wait to move into our new home because the pipes were frozen.

Although she never showed otherwise, that first month must have been really daunting for my mother. She left warm weather for cold and 3 feet of snow. She went from city, with all the amenities near by, to country, where the nearest grocery store was 30 minutes away on an icy treacherous road. The bus stop was 2 miles away (also on that same road). There was no TV to keep her two youngest, housebound children amused while she tried to unpack and set up house. Throughout it all she handled each situation with her customary, take-it-in-stride attitude that served her well that first year.

Making new friends in a rural community was one of the challenges for my mother. In California, the easiest route was joining a volunteer group. So my mother joined the local Women's Club. The average age of this group was 65. My mom was 30. The Women's Club was thrilled to have my mom. Every year there was a state contest for the best member under the age of 40. With my mom they finally had someone to nominate! She was nominated for 10 years.

Back in California my mother loved golf and tennis. In the 1960s, these were sports that were not heard of yet. My parents eventually built an indoor tennis court for the guest ranch...a first in Montana. Before that option, however, my mom took up the only sport around...bowling.

Adapting to local conditions became the norm for my mother...

Adapting to local conditions became the norm for my mom from the party line telephone where no conversation was private (who knew Homeland Security would reinstate this?), to simple things like baking.

The first month of our new life in Montana was my birthday month. Mom set about making what should have been an ordinary birthday cake. Instead, because of the high altitude, the cake came out a disaster. Taking it in stride (no last minute rush to a grocery store for a store bought cake), mom frosted the cake and hid it. Then she leaked the word via my brothers that there was a very special surprise for me.

Waiting for dinner to be finished so I could get my surprise was hard work for a recently turned 5 year old. Finally, the moment came to bring out the cake. Placing it in front of me, I could only stare in shock. This was my SURPRISE!!!??

Cracked in various places and with a distinct lean, the only thing holding that cake together was frosting. Before I could cry or get mad, my mom quickly asked me, "Don't you know what this is?" I was still too stunned to talk so I mutely shook my head.

"This is Quake Cake!" she announced proudly (putting a new spin on the phrase "fake it till you make it.")

Everyone broke out laughing and cheering. The cake and the party were a big hit and as the first official family celebration in our new life, it seemed to set the tone for many great celebrations to come. Making lemonaide from lemons that day, my mom ended up making me feel unique and special.

In a long line of birthdays since, Quake Cake is the only cake I remember.

till our next adventure,
Ramblin' Rose