Thomas Lee True West

About 75 people, an estimated 90 percent white, marched down Main Street in Bozeman, Montana, to protest racism and extreme police brutality on Saturday. As I followed along the route, I heard a woman tell her friend that the protest was dumb. A man made a joke implying that because so many of the protesters were white, their message lacked credibility. And another man, apparently thinking this was a protest against all police officers, leaned toward the open window on the passenger side of his pickup and yelled, “God bless law enforcement,” as he drove past.

Each of these people denied that racial injustice is a problem. They want to ignore the facts that tell us those with darker skin have fewer opportunities for financial security and more opportunities for oppression. I agree it’s a tough issue to face. It’s shameful and inflammatory. But ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away.

Wednesday, a federal judge declared Montana’s law against same-sex marriage unconstitutional. Thursday morning, several couples were at the Law and Justice Center here in Bozeman getting married. It was an honor to watch this latest step toward a more free, more just state and nation.

Patrick Donnelly, left, 34, and Ben Bahnsen, 32, were the first same-sex couple to be granted a marriage license in Gallatin County. Together three years, the couple makes their home in Bozeman. “We’re overjoyed we can finally, legally celebrate our marriage with out friends,” says Donnelly.

Stacey Haugland, left, 48, and Mary Leslie, 52, were the first same-sex couple to actually get married. Both couples were married by Nina Grey. The couple says they’ve been together 16 years, and were ceremonially married in 2003, but marrying legally was extremely important to them. “Marriage really does change things for the better,” says Leslie. “It really does transform things. It matters.”

Among the many fine stories in the current issue of Montana Quarterly is John Clayton’s profile of the town of Philipsburg, Montana. I found it to be a town with a sense of humor, a place proud of its heritage without clinging to it. Anne Krickel, above, lives next door to a church. At one time, she says, she and her husband had a sign on the bathtub outside their home that advertised, “Baptisms: 50¢.” Then some friends brought her a mannequin leg from an old department store. “I thought, ‘That is perfect,’ ” she says.

Asked to explain the math on a sign welcoming visitors to P-burg’s southern entrance, Mayor Craig Sorensen says, “It’s an art project slash joke.” Mayor Sorensen adds that there are also four signs around town directing people to a fictitious nude beach. If followed, the signs lead travelers in a circle.

Founded as a mining town in the 1860s, P-burg was built to last. Much of the architecture, including the Philipsburg grade school, was constructed of brick. The school, dedicated in 1896, claims to be the oldest operating grade school in Montana.

And a lot of work has gone into preserving and maintaining the historic downtown. On the June Saturday morning I visited, the main drag was getting a fresh chip seal.

Roy Hamilton, 96, grew up in P-burg. He learned mechanical skills from his father, a carpenter from Sweden. He sent his three kids to college with jobs that included manganese mining and work for the city public works department.

“You could say that Roy’s career is a microcosm of P-burg and the economic history of the state as a whole,” John Clayton writes. “He used his mechanical aptitude and common sense to make things in teamwork with others. And responding to market forces beyond his control, his source of income had to shift from mining to logging to government. The stability was not in a single employer, but in family, landscape, community, and the value of work itself. All that makes Roy very likable, just like his town.”