Silence Of The Great Falls Dam Tamed Place Of Great Importance To Lewis And Clark

Before Capt. Meriwether Lewis saw the Great Falls of the Missouri on June 13, 1805, he heard the roar.

What he beheld when he reached the tiny island at the base of the falls astonished him. Here the mighty Missouri River, some 1,500 feet wide and swollen with the snowmelt of the Rockies, fell 78 feet.

It was, he wrote in his journal, a “sublimely grand spectacle … the grandest sight I ever beheld.” It was also a crucial moment in the journey, the discovery that dispelled any fear that Lewis and William Clark had taken a wrong turn in their expedition.

But it is all but impossible to recapture that moment. Much of the falls’ grandeur has been obliterated, encased in the concrete of the 65-foot-high Ryan Dam. The Great Falls no longer ranks with the great scenic glories of the West. But it still has a fascinating tale to tell - though not the kind of history that tourist agencies like to emphasize.

In its way, the place symbolizes the real American West more accurately than if the Great Falls had been left pristine.

For Montana, there’s a cruel irony about the site.

The 200th anniversary of the 1803-1806 Lewis and Clark expedition is approaching. Stephen E. Ambrose’s 1996 book about the expedition, “Undaunted Courage: Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson and the Opening of the American West,” has been on the bestseller list more than a year. And director Ken Burns’ documentary on their historic mission just aired on PBS.

Tourism officials from Missouri to Oregon are preparing for an influx of visitors.

The modern city of Great Falls is no exception. In preparation for the bicentennial, it is building a Lewis and Clark interpretive center and planning hundreds of activities and observances.

But had it been left in its natural state, the Great Falls might have become the focus of bicentennial activities and one of the leading tourist attractions of the West.

“It would have been, it could have been a major recreational center along the river,” says Bill Wyckoff, professor of geography at Montana State University. “Today, it’s a great anticlimax.”

Nevertheless, the Great Falls area is a logical stop for tourists retracing the path Lewis and Clark took on their expedition to explore the lands bought in the Louisiana Purchase.

It was downriver from here, a few days before the discovery, that Lewis and Clark were confronted with one of the most critical choices of their journey. They had come to the junction of two large rivers and did not know which was the Missouri and which was a large tributary. All they knew from the Hidatsa Indians was that the main river had a mighty waterfall.

Most of their party believed the fork to the right was the correct choice, but the two captains suspected that the south fork was the true Missouri. The wrong choice could have delayed - and might have prevented - the expedition’s passage through the Rockies.

Lewis set out ahead on foot with four men to explore the south fork. It was not until the third day that they heard the roar of falling water telling them the captains had chosen the right course.

But now it’s not easy to find the Great Falls in Great Falls.

The site can be reached by car only by taking the narrow, bumpy Ryan Dam Road. The natural wonder that gave the city its name is omitted from Montana’s official highway map. One tiny sign marks the turnoff. “To find it,” says Victor Bjornberg, publicity coordinator for Travel Montana, the state tourism agency, “you have to be a little adventurous and ask.”

On the island where Lewis once stood, the utility company that owns the dam has created a pretty little park. It is reached by a swaying footbridge, marked with a sign that warns that no more than six people should be on it at a time.

The Ryan Dam was built in 1915 - one of five dams that shackled this stretch of the Missouri River between 1890 and 1930. It is named after John D. Ryan, president of the Anaconda Copper Mining Co. and later the Montana Power Co.

With tourism now a major industry and environmentalism a potent political force, a dam probably couldn’t be imposed on such a scenic waterfall. But the Ryan Dam was proposed and built with little or no public protest, says Keith Edgerton, who teaches Montana history at Montana State University-Billings.

“People a half-century ago looked at the landscape a lot differently than we do today,” Edgerton says. “Any kind of economic development was seen as a boon - was applauded and appreciated and embraced.”

Even if somebody had objected to the construction, resistance probably would have been futile. The Anaconda Copper Co. wanted electricity to power its mines around Butte, and what Anaconda wanted, Anaconda got.

“Montana was unusual in that it was a company state. From 1910 to 1950, it pretty much dominated the state,” Edgerton says. Not only did Anaconda control the governor and the Legislature, it owned five of the state’s six daily newspapers, he says.

Cort Freeman, spokesman for the Montana Power Co., said that when the Ryan Dam opened, it played a crucial role in meeting the state’s energy needs. Today, with much more generating capacity available, the dam supplies 4 to 5 percent of Montana’s energy needs.

To a hydroelectric engineer such as Bill Rhoads, the Ryan Dam itself is a thing of beauty.

“I really think it’s a credit to the people who built and designed that project that they kept the integrity of the falls,” says Rhoads, director of hydro operations for Montana Power. Some people think the dam “enhances the beauty of the falls.”

Lewis and the president who sent him on his journey to the Pacific might very well agree, Ambrose says. “In a certain way, Thomas Jefferson and Meriwether Lewis would be delighted. That was the idea - that we were going to expand this country from sea to sea.”

The historian noted that travelers who want to see the trail as the explorers themselves saw it can find the most pristine stretch of the Missouri, the White Cliffs, just east of Great Falls near Fort Benton.

For those who are dismayed by what has been done to the Missouri River and its falls, Wyckoff offers a small measure of comfort.

“In the geological frame of time, it may only be blocked for a short time,” the geographer says. “Over the long term, I think the river wins in one fashion or another.”