Quid Pro Quo

 

     Born and raised in rural Ransom County, North Dakota, I’ve never lost the sense of belonging there. I no longer live in the county, but the ground feels good under foot whenever I visit. Families, farmsteads, businesses, groves of trees, even the brush of a summer breeze blowing across my face revive memories from the years I lived there. On that ground I developed some of the good and the bad that define my life today.  I am 78 years old and can remember people, places, and events for about 75 of those years, but before that, nothing.

    While wanting to know history of the early days of the county before the reach of my memory, I need to rely on written accounts. Unfortunately, those former times can’t be discovered by going to any single volume but must be rummaged from bits and pieces found here and there. While searching about, I came upon the “nuts and bolts” of the county’s birth and   turned up the fact of an unmistakable “quid pro quo. ” Set in motion by two men it resulted in the county we know today. 

     The History of the Red River Valley, 1909, carries an account, the best I’ve seen, relating how the city’s founder Joseph L. Colton wanted to see his financial concerns there grow and be protected. For that to happen, Colton felt the N.P.R.R. must route itself through the tiny town. After preliminary surveys, it had become common knowledge that the railroad was eyeing a slightly different path. To prevent their bypass, he was steered to Major Buttz, a friend of the territorial governor Nehemiah Ordway. Buttz and Colton entered into an agreement whereby Buttz would influence the N.P. to build through Lisbon. Additionally, he would influence Ordway to establish Ransom County and designate Lisbon as the county seat. In return, Colton was obligated to deed 60 acres of land he owned in the city limits to Buttz.

     Major Buttz got it done. On March 7, 1881, Ordway’s pen signed the county into existence with Lisbon as county seat. Not done yet, two months later Ordway appointed the first county commissioners, which, of course, consisted of men Colton had recommended. Moving fast, they held their first commissioner meeting on April 4, 1881. Without Buttz and Colton’s agreement, Fort Ransom might’ve become the county seat, but like they say, that’s all water under the bridge. My map of 1889 clearly shows the railroad route bending to enter Lisbon. Later on Colton and Buttz came to a parting of the ways because of business disagreements.

     Fascinating history this all is, and if ever wondering where the ghost town of Buttzville got its name, think of Major C. W. Buttz. He proudly wore the title of major from his days of  exemplary service during the Civil War. He joined the Union Army in 1861 as a lieutenant and quickly climbed ranks. As a captain, he was commended “for gallant and meritorious conduct in capturing from the enemy a full rocket battery,” and another for leading a scouting expedition where 25 of his men engaged 300 Confederates with a “dashing cavalry charge” and captured 67  of them.

     After arriving in North Dakota, he proceeded to accumulate quite a large land holding of several thousand acres. Amounts vary but it was sizable enough to consider it a bonanza farm. 

His brother David lived at Buttzville, too, and it is unclear if they worked in partnership. A retired college professor with whom I’ve become acquainted is presently researching the Homestead era in Ransom County and has found on the BLM website that most of the Buttz acreage was in the major’s name.  

     The website “Ghosts of North Dakota” includes Buttzville and includes a few pictures. On another time we can discuss Major Buttz and his involvement in politics and how the publisher of The Sheldon Enterprise expressed his dislike of the major on different dates.