THE STORY OF SHEP

[CANADIANPACIFIC2816]

I have a story to tell, and in it's nature it is true, for it happened on the Great Northern Railway in Montana. This is my way of wishing everyone who reads the forums of Trains Magazine a Merry Christmas. I will preface this by saying that my Dad, Ray Loftesness Sr. was a well known radio broadcaster and musicologist who had a career in radio and television which spanned 55 years. In 1938 Dad went on the air at KSOO in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with a Christmas Radio show he called "Holiday Inn" And the story you are about to read is something he told every year over the air during the Christmas season.

     Fort Benton is a picturesque town of about 2000 nestled in the bluffs of the looping, Missouri River in north central Montana. There, one day in August 1936 a funeral car bearing the body of a sheep herder arrived at the Great Northern depot. Only one mourner was at hand to see the sheep herder off on his last journey. For behind the funeral car trotted a big, shaggy cross breed, collie dog. As the casket was lifted onto the train, the dog whined pathetically and attempted to follow. The station agent restrained him, and as the train puffed away, the dog stood for a few moments looking disconsolately along the steel rails. And then, he laid down beside the empty tracks. That night, he burrowed under the station's platform to await his master's return. And that big dog was to maintain an unbroken vigil there, for five and a half years. And at the end of that time his passing would produce some remarkable consequences.

     In the beginning, the dog trotted out to meet Fort Benton's four trains a day, rain or shine. He eyed the passengers as they alighted, sniffed at the baggage car doors, mutely questioned each passerby, and then he would stand wistfully, watching the train until it disappeared in the distance. Someday, surely his master would return.

     Station employees soon found that the dog answered to the name "Shep". But in general, he remained aloof, as if reluctant to be distracted from his patient waiting. He would watch until the last train of the day had departed before he would eat of the meat scraps that the station agent, Tony Sanche left by his burrow. And then, in the black of night, he would trot lonesomely over the three-quarter mile trail down to the Missouri to drink. But, even dogs can stand utter lonliness only so long. And one night, during a thunderstorm, section foreman Pat McSwennie found the lonely, frightened dog crouching at the door of the station. He coaxed him inside, and when the bitter Montana winter came, Pat fixed him warm quarters in the freight house. But  first the big Irishman had to stretch out on a pad which he placed by the big dog, and that seemed to reassure Shep.

     Months passed, and news of Shep's vigil traveled beyond Fort Benton. News papers and radio of that day picked up the story and in time mail began arriving for Shep. Dozens of dog lovers sent him cash gifts, and one Christmas a woman in England sent him a bone and a suet cake. Pet fanciers from Florida to California offered to give him a home. Sheep ranchers in many states wanted to adopt the dog as well. Eventually so much mail for Shep piled up that Superintendent Dixon detailed a secretary to devote part of a week to handling it, and it alone. And then Shep was featured in Bob Rippley's "Belielve it or Not" newspaper column. And that triggered an avalanche of mail. And during the summer tourists stopped at Fort Benton just to view the dog.

     All this affection mattered very little to Shep, from the moment his master was taken away until the day Shep himself died, his sole purpose in life remained unchanged. His master, it would seem, would someday return, and he, Shep, would be there to meet him. But there came a day when Shep could no longer bound out of his quarters and trot along the tracks. Instead he padded slowly, and his hearing and sight began to fail. On occassion when sub-zero whether stiffened his aging legs, he would simply limp out to the trains. And it was on such a day in January 1942 when Shep started down the track to meet the 1017. Grown old, and perhaps a little careless, he stood between the rails waiting. As the train approached, bystanders expected him to jump to safety, he always did, but this time, a second too late. And Shep's long vigil was over.

     Well, as the news of Shep's death spread, thousands mourned for him, if only briefly. And trainmen selected a grave site for the big dog at the top of the bluff overlooking the depot. And the station agent fashioned a black casket with glass handles, and members of Boy Scout troop #47 in Fort Benton volunteered to be Shep's pall bearers. Schools were dismissed and townspeople along the tracks with many ranch families from miles around, all attended the funeral, held approprately enough at the Great Northern depot. The Reverend Ral Underwood of the town's church delivered Graham Vest's eulogy on the dog, the one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in a selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.

     And then as the Boy Scout bugler, Ken Vinion sounded taps on the wintery air, the casket was carried up the bluffs and Shep was buried. And I suppose that should have ended this story. But as I accidently discovered while visiting Fort Benton with Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, Shep's story really began from that seemingly final moment. Indeed, until that day I had somehow missed everything that I had told you up until now. You see, when Shep died in 1942, passenger trains were still running full tilt across this country. In what was to be a final act of homage, the people of Fort Benton erected a stone monument on top of the bluff, and below it they lettered the name "Shep", S.H.E.P. in whitewashed boulders. And trainmen installed a spotlight on that bluff to illuminate it night.

     And as the Great Northern sped through the Montana hamlet, conductors, stewards and porters recited to curious train passengers the story of the dog's long wait. And the conductor, Roy Shields wrote a short booklet about Shep, and the Great Northern sold the book for fifty cents aboard the western trains. And soon the book sales had netted five thousand dollars, and then eight thousand dollars and then ten thousand dollars. And as the book was passed on to thousands of other folks, money rolled into the railroad depot in memorials totaling more than twenty-five thousand dollars. Nearly five years passed, and one day on his day off, conductor Shields swung down off the train in search of a "living" memorial to Shep.

     And he found it. He found it at the Montana School for the Deaf and the Blind at Great Falls, Montana. By now, conductor Shields had been put in charge of the Shep fund, you see. Well, Glen Harris was the superintendent of the school in 1946, and when conductor Shields offered to give him the money, he also asked what the 100 or so kids at the school needed the most. "Something that says "We love you.", replied superintendent Harris. "These kids come here off lonely ranches, from broken homes, the poor from lonely reservations. They need toys, candy and skates, luxuries that no state legislature can buy for them."

     And so, Shep played Santa that year, and a little blind girl cuddled her very first doll and cried, "She's mine, she's all mine!" And there was ice skating on the pond behind the school and boys and girls received the toys they asked for. "Shep gave us something we've never had before.", Glen Harris told me. "It isn't just the things you see, but the knowledge that someone wanted to, and cared to, and was able to do something for these youngsters." And I can tell you this, that Shep's gifts have multiplied a hundred fold since that first memorable Christmas, they have changed life absolutely altogether at the Montana Institution for the Deaf and the Blind, for the money, you see it not only provided for Christmas, but for a whole new year-round program of extra love and care and therapy. "People on the outside", Glen Harris told me, "don't seem to realize that institutions like these need more than food, soap and heat. The Shep fund has helped us to make up for the love and security these kids have missed." He said, "Take Tina. A thirteen-year old, mixed up girl with spells of depression and headaches." After a doctor had pronounced the child in sound health, Harris called in her housemother. "You know what ails that thirteen-year old girl the most?" He said, "It's something that no medicine can cure. Here's ten dollars, take her downtown, and for heaven's sake, spend it foolishly!" And so, Shep bought new hosiery and jewelry and a dresser set for Tina that day, and Tina's problems simply disappeared. And she went on to sweep the sewing and dress making contest at the Montana state fair that year.

     When I was at that Great Falls School making that visit, a sharp looking, deaf youngster came up to show off his brand-new Shep-bought shoes. And aftward, Harris told me, "You know, that kid broke thirteen windows the very first day he was here. And quite often institutional children are destructive when they arrive. But it's simply hard to believe that these gifts have done something for boys and girls that we wouldn't have believed. Why, we figure that the Shep fund saves us three thousand dollars a year in breakage and vandalism alone.", he said with a smile. And, the Shep fund pays extras too; field trips to the state capital at  Helena, visits to dude ranches in Montana, camp-outs in Yellowstone. And friends, look at the record. Ordinarily fewer than ten percent of the graduates of the state school were able to enter college before Shep came along, Montana would only send one student per year to Galudet for the Handicapped in Washington, D.C., and yet recently, the entire Montana graduating class qualified, and everyone went to college.

     So, since 1942 when Shep was struck down by that train, his fund, through continued contributions and interest has grown to well over a hundred thousand dollars now and while some of it is constantly retained, the interest money and some of the principle is spent, and spent lavishly on lonely, and hurting children.

     Superintendent Harris and I raced down the Montana Highway in his car to the airport and to a plane that would take me thousands of miles in just a few hours. It rose up over the bowl that is Fort Benton, and down below me the Missouri looped around the high bluff. And I could see dimly in the late afternoon light, the whitewashed boulders the citizens of Fort Benton had placed on top of that mountain. They lettered simply "S.H.E.P." on the hillside. And Glen Harris's final words  echoed across the miles, he said, "There's a potential in every boy and girl here and everywhere. But first, we must unlock their hearts. And we've always said that Shep's Christmas present did that, and continues to do so to this day."

     Strange, isn't it? That the love of a dog can tap the underlying love of people so deeply.

                             

                            Merry Christmas, everyone!

                                   Ray Loftesness II

[zardoz]

Darn you, Ray, you made me cry.  

Thanks for sharing.  Really. Thanks.

[JoeKoh]

great story Ray

stay safe

joe

[samfp1943]

zardoz

Darn you, Ray, you made me cry.  

Thanks for sharing.  Really. Thanks.

.

That is truly an amazing story.....

    What " Z" said, went for me as well!  and I printed it, and my wife cried also.

Thanks, Ray for sharing that story...Merry Christmas and  God Bless your Happy New Year!

[edblysard]

This one needs to show up every year, to reminds us all....

Thanks Ray.

[BamaCSX83]

I agree wholeheartedly, what a wonderful story.  Thanks!

[cherokee woman]

Ray, thanks so much for sharing this beautiful story.  My eyes are watering.  As Ed and a couple of others said, this story should be posted each Christmas.  Merry Christmas, Ray.

[SSW9389]

Great story and a good read, . thank you.

[locomutt]

Great Story Ray, Thanks For Sharing.

[eolafan]

edblysard

This one needs to show up every year, to reminds us all....

Thanks Ray.

I'LL ADD A GREAT BIG "AMEN" TO THAT SUGGESTION!

[Deggesty]

Thanks, Ray

Dogs are wonderful animals, and they show their love and attachment in many ways.

[uphogger]

I read this one to my wife with all our dogs gathered around us.  Very nice.  Thanks, I need a good tear-jerker now and again.

[VerMontanan]

Thanks for posting this story of America's greatest dog.  There is actually video of Shep, and you can view it at:

http://www.fortbenton.com/shep/video.html

In the video you will also see the bronze statue of Shep created by well-known Montana artist Bob Scriver.  It's now located next the historic Grand Union Hotel along the Missouri River in downtown Fort Benton.

Montana artist Brian Morger created a painting entitled "Shep's Vigil."  The painting shows Shep sniffing the hand of detraining passenger at the Fort Benton station - always on the lookout for the return of his master.  Needless to say, it was very popular in Montana.

[seppburgh2]

"With renewed interest generated by the fiftieth anniversary of Shep's death, the community of Fort Benton organized a committee to produce a lasting memorial to their famous dog. One of the West's most renown sculptors, Bob Scriver, was contracted to create a heroic-sized bronze statue of Shep."

Read the rest of Shep's story at:

http://montanakids.com/cool_stories/famous_montanans/shep.htm

[samfp1943]

YEPPERS! 

    Thank You Ray for sharing this WONDERFUL STORY AGAIN!

   AS A DOG OWNER, This story really brings home a lesson in loyalty. Personalities are not just a human trait, My Lab mix wants to be around me when I am in the house, or out in 'his'truck', and both of enjoy our daily walks. He's pretty good company.

  Two years ago I printed off the Story of Shep and read it to the granddaughter. She now looks forward to having it read to her during the Christmas Season, as well as other time of the year.

  Thanks, for posting, and sharing it again with everyone around here.