Middle name should have been 'Danger'

Among Other Things

By Paul Fugleberg

Recent stories of bear maulings and the anniversary of the "Night of the Grizzlies" when two people were killed by grizzlies in Glacier National Park got me to thinking about Al Thiri and I wondered what he would think of precautions taken today by hikers in grizzly country.

Thiri was Polson's "aerial photographer" during the early homestead era. He took "aerial views" while perched in trees, on roof tops, hanging onto lamp posts, etc. He also loved Glacier Park where he roamed with grizzlies, climbed with mountain goats, and once became stranded by an avalanche.

He was even chased by buffalo near Dayton.

"Danger" should have been his middle name.

As to grizzlies, Thiri claimed he had passed within a few feet of grizzly bears with only a stick for protection. By dragging the stick he was able to frighten away any grizzly.

Lest you get any ideas of trying the Thiri method of protection, remember that those were the days before the massive human intrusion into the grizzly bear's domain.

While traveling by horseback, however, Thiri hung bells on the saddle because he believed grizzlies thought horses were deer. He told friends that he had lost horses to bears when he forgot to put on the bells.

And a grizzly did raid his camp once. Leaving a pot of prunes to boil on the camp stove, Thiri left the camp for a few minutes. When he returned he found that a bear apparently had burned its paws and become enraged. After wrecking the camp, the bear dragged a case of canned goods about 150 yards before abandoning it. Thiri theorized that the animal's paws were burned too painfully to drag the cans any farther.

The photographer admired mountain goats and their agility and ability to get out of sight quickly — so much so that the first time he encountered a goat, he watched it with admiration and forgot to take the picture with his vest pocket camera.

He felt he could climb wherever the goats could. Flattened against a cliff, overhanging a drop of about 3,000 feet, Thiri said he could follow the goats and find footing wherever they went — on the way up. Coming down was a different story as he had to feel with his feet for places to stop.

Thiri traveled alone through most of the wilderness. Usually he was unarmed and carried a limited food supply of raisins, chocolates, cheese and Grape Nuts.

In May 1914 he investigated the possibilities of taking aerial views of Glacier and was almost permanently grounded. Avalanches trapped him near Sperry Glacier and he was isolated for three days with Grape Nuts his only food.

By 1916, he was ready to try something else and was appointed as a first-class ranger in Glacier with headquarters located at Belton (now West Glacier).

And about those buffalo: It happened while returning from a photo expedition to Camas Hot Springs and Dayton. The Lakeshore Sentinel, Polson's first newspaper, reported "Mr. Thiri walked in from Dayton and states that at a point near the Irvine ranch he was chased by a herd of buffalo.

Ever alert for good views, Mr. Thiri set his tripod and frantically waved his coat to keep the beasts from charging, and secured a good picture of the buffalo. The story is hard to believe, but Mr. Thiri has the film to prove it."

The first couple years on the Reservation, to promote his aerial photos, he billed himself as "Dare Devil Develo" during Polson's 4th of July celebration. He jumped from a 50-ft. high platform on the city docks, through a hoop of fire and into Flathead Lake. Windy weather delayed the jump until late in the day, but the Flathead Courier commented, "All who saw the dive were satisfied as to the nerve of the diver."

A year later he performed a similar stunt at the Plains Fair as "Thiri, the Helldiver," leaping from a new wagon bridge spanning the Clark Fork River through a circle of flame. He also claimed he would set a world's record by holding his breath for three-and-a-half minutes under water. There was no follow-up story to record whether or not he achieved that goal.

Third's health began failing in 1920 and he died due to "paralysis" at the age of 39 on May 1, 1923, in Kalispell. Funeral services were held in Polson in Lakeview Cemetery. His grave, appropriately, is high on a hill overlooking Flathead Lake.