Mary MacLane graduated from Butte High School in 1899, ready to go to Stanford University in California. The night before she was to leave, her stepfather informed her that there was no money for college. College was to be her escape from the murky hues of the mile-high Mining City. She spent the next years walking the steep hills of the copper camp of Butte, MT. Walking and seething, she was disillusioned, angry, and claustrophobic. Trapped by the lack of money, how was she to leave? How could she ever study at an institute of higher learning?

In the first three months of 1901 she wrote a book she called I Await the Devil’s Coming. She spoke openly and sensuously about her inner most feelings, something that was unheard of at the turn of that century. She courted the Devil, begging that he deliver her from her mundane existence in the western mining town.

Any money, and consequently, any leaving of the copper camp, came down to Mary. She had to find her own way out into the “wise, wide world,” as she said. In 1902 she sent a handwritten copy of I Await the Devil’s Coming off to a religious publisher. He sent it over to Herbert S. Stone & Co. They changed the name of the book to The Story of Mary MacLane, and published it. The book was an overnight sensation, selling somewhere between 80,000 and 100,000 copies in the first month.

Mary MacLane had finally found her freedom.

The book hit home with girls and women across the nation. Many took it as permission to pursue their own creativity and to follow their own paths, paths outside of the ones that led being a Virtuous Woman. Groups of rebellious young women sprung up across the nation. They took up writing. They broke the law looking for adventure. Sometimes jail followed. Sometimes tragedy followed.

The Story of Mary MacLane hit a raw nerve with other readers. Critics called her insane. Some suggested she should be locked up until she came to her senses. One paper suggested she should be spanked.

While the critics loved her and hated her, Butte newspapers wrote disparaging things about her. Brave, resilient, and not about to be put in some conventional society approved place, MacLane answered the Butte Newspapers. Here is one of her answers. The Anaconda Standard printed it Sunday, May 4th, 1902.

A Word in Passing

Among all the sweet little lies that the Butte newspapers have circulated about me there are three which stand out brilliantly against a picturesque background.

These three are: that I am insane, that I corrupt the virtuous, that I am an object of pity.

They say that I am insane. I may be — I have not thought about it. “Insanity” is a large word. Nay, I must be for so have not the Butte newspaper said? Hath not the oracle spoken?

They say that I am a corrupter of the virtuous. I may be — I have no thought about it. Corruption is a broad term. Nay, I must be, for so the Butte newspapers have said; and therefore avoid me, shun me, fair, virtuous men and women (full twice my age,) Give me a wide, wide berth lest I corrupt you.

But low, they say I am an object of pity! They write touching editorials, they appeal to the fair world’s charity (which is said to begin at home and to cover a multitude of sins.) True, the Oracle hath spoken. But, fair, Dear World, I must here draw the line. Slander me, revile me with many cursings, if it pleases you (as it seems to do,) but spare, oh spare your pity! I cannot use it, and you may need it for a rainy day. Yes, if it pleases the Butte newspapers to say that I am insane, then let them say that I am insane. If it pleases the Butte newspapers to say that I am a corrupter of the virtuous, then let them say that I am a corrupter of the virtuous (and you who are virtuous take the warning to heart lest I corrupt you.)

But when they would call down pity for my benefit, think twice I adjure you fair world — think thrice. Indeed, if you are equal to so plebian an effort — for ‘twere sad to see fine, fresh pity going to waste. I want none of it, I say to you. I cannot use it. Pity of yours were far too exalted for the plane of such as I.

 

Mary Elizabeth MacLane

 

Butte, May 1st, 1902

I am currently writing a book for Farcountry Press, called Mary MacLane: Butte’s Wild Woman and Her Wooden Heart. The manuscript is due this week I’ve been working hard at finishing it. I am just hoping I have done her story justice.

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