Put a finger on it here at the Shuggat. Drifters riding the rail, some playing off the rail, derailed in Montana, home nonetheless. Even Charlie jotted down decadence, in addition to his paintings he wrote, but his wife Nancy put the crimp on ribald stories of the Mint, of Montana. Men's lives shifted from mountains to towns. Stray women and stories left his paintings, but the words are there in his art.
Possibilities still exist, now as then.
The Indians sing on reviving antiquity. Charlie painted that bright. His paintings hang behind the Shuggat mahogany, once real, now replica. Montana history lingers. This night in the Shuggat it is oral history.