If you've spent much time in Missoula, you've probably gotten turned around in the "Slant Streets" at least once. If you've lived there long enough, you've probably heard sensational tales of strife and betrayal surrounding the origin of the Garden City’s most geographically confused neighborhood. We're here to set the record straight. It’s the saga of the Slant Streets, on The Big Why.
Austin Amestoy: Welcome to the Big Why, a series from Montana Public Radio where we find out what we can discover together. I’m your host, Austin Amestoy. This is a show about listener-powered reporting. We’ll answer your questions – large or small – about anything under the Big Sky. By Montanans for Montana, this is The Big Why.
This episode centers on the city with MTPR’s most listeners, but I think anyone who’s ever driven through Missoula will find this a fascinating tale.
It’s the saga of the Slant Streets, the Garden City’s most geographically confused neighborhood, and the decisions that led to what some observers have called one of the worst-designed cities in the nation.
Joining me is MTPR producer Nick Mott.
Nick Mott: Wow, that’s pretty harsh, Austin. But I will say, Missoula’s street layout is not one of its best features.
Austin Amestoy: As someone who still occasionally uses the maps app to get around after living here for six years … ditto, Nick.
Our question came from a Missoulian who asked about the classic urban legend surrounding the Slants — that they were the result of two warring brothers, or lawyers, or friends (depends on the version you’re familiar with) who had different ideas of how Missoula’s streets south of the Clark Fork River should be oriented. Some versions of this legend even have rumors of infidelity in the mix, Nick.
Nick Mott: Wow. That’s a lot. So our listener charged you with finding out if any of those stories held water?
Austin Amestoy: That’s right, and after trips to two libraries, a local surveying expert’s basement museum, and a clumsy stint working a microfilm reel, I think I’ve got an answer for us.
Nick Mott: Sounds like a solid Big Why investigation. But maybe just to step back first, what part of Missoula are we talking about today, Austin?
Austin Amestoy: Right. The “Slant Streets” neighborhood is crystal clear if you’ve ever looked at a map of the city. It’s south of the river, and it’s surrounded by streets running north, south east and west. The Slants, as you would guess based on the name, are shifted about 45 degrees.
Nick Mott: Right, Brooks Street is the main drag in that section of town, right?
Austin Amestoy: Today, yes. But that wasn’t always the case. About 150 years ago, during Missoula’s early days, it was a street we now call Stephens Avenue.
That’s where I met retired surveyor, Missoula resident and amateur historian Bill Weikel.
Nick Mott: Did he say he’d meet you in the “middle?” The middle of the road?
Austin Amestoy: Weirdly enough, yes. Stephens Avenue holds the distinction of being old Missoula’s widest road — more than a 100-foot spread. There’s a stretch of grass and trees halfway across that Weikel and I stopped to chat on.
If you stand where we did and look southwest, you get an outstanding view of the snowy cap of Lolo Peak. Weikel says that was probably intentional.
Bill Weikel: Over time I think that they figured out that if they were just going a little bit to the west of Lolo Peak, they would hit that road that went down to the east side of the Bitterroot.
Nick Mott: Who is Weikel talking about?
Austin Amestoy: Missoula’s early residents. Weikel says what we now call Stephens Avenue was the main wagon trail leading to communities south of town, back before there was much of anything on that side of the Clark Fork River.
Nick Mott: I see. So that’s why you met Weikel there?
Austin Amestoy: Yes, but not just on Stephens Avenue, Nick — we were at the corner of Stephens and Bickford Street. That intersection, at the heart of the Slant Streets, bears the names of two men at the heart of the entire debacle that led to the streets’ strange orientation: W.J. Stephens and Walter M. Bickford.
Nick Mott: I can’t say I’ve heard those names before.
Austin Amestoy: Neither had I, Nick. According to the late historian Allan James Matthews in his book “A Guide to Historic Missoula,” Stephens and Bickford were attorneys and friends who settled in the young town in the late 1800s. They bought the land we call the “Slant Streets” today.
Nick Mott: Okay, two wealthy lawyers. This sounds a little like the legend you described earlier — do they have a falling-out? Is that the reason for Missoula’s mismatched streets?
Austin Amestoy: I hate to disappoint you or our listeners who love a salacious tale, but Bickford and Stephens are actually allies in this story. They weren’t brothers, and there’s no evidence I can find anyone was cheating with the other's wife. The real story of the Slants is pretty banal, actually.
Nick Mott: Oh well. Let’s hear it!
Austin Amestoy: Remember Stephens Avenue? That old wagon road that laid diagonally, from northeast to southwest? It ran right through the middle of Bickford and Stephens’ new property. Because it was the main road south of the river — kind of the only well-traveled road, in fact — Stephens and Bickford decided to divide their lots in the same direction – diagonally.
Nick Mott: Right, that sounds like a logical choice — you’d want your city blocks to line up with the main road in the area. So how did things get so messed up?
Austin Amestoy: Well. For this part of the story, Weikel took me to his basement, which is a term that really undersells what he’s got going on.
Austin Amestoy: Wow, you’ve got a whole museum down here!
Bill Weikel: I do — that’s why I call it my man cave.
Austin Amestoy: Weikel’s “man cave” is absolutely full to the ceiling with surveying equipment. He’s got everything — and I mean everything. Compasses, plumbobs, chains, wagon odometers, tripods dating back to the Revolution — all arranged neatly, and even labeled in some instances.
Bill Weikel: Little of everything.
Nick Mott: That sounds absolutely wild.
Austin Amestoy: It has to be seen to be believed. At any rate, Weikel sat me down to peel back the layers of Missoula’s history to get to the bottom of things. And here’s the gist of it — Stephens and Bickford wanted their roads to line up with the Bitterroot Wagon Road, but other powerful landowners at the time had a different vision for Missoula’s future.
Allan Matthews’ book tells us the wealthy banker C.P. Higgins and a local judge, Hiram Knowles, owned the land to the north and east of Stephens and Bickford. And they decided to plat their streets to run according to the cardinal directions – north-south-east-west.
This instigated an approximately year-long tug-of-war for south Missoula’s design destiny, one fought in city council meetings and even at the ballot box.
Nick Mott: Wow! Well, it looks like Higgins and Knowles won, right? That’s why the Slant Streets is the odd neighborhood out instead of the rule?
Austin Amestoy: You know, it’s interesting — Bill Weikel doesn’t really look at it as a battle to be won or lost. The truth here is that “planning” a city as we know it today wasn’t really common back then.
How a city grew was often determined by the will of the power brokers, the people who bought and controlled the land, who could influence governments and voters.
I chatted with a guy named Scott Berkun about this. He’s written several books on all things design, and focused on Missoula’s Slant Streets in one chapter. While Missoula is a particularly striking example of bad “design,” Berkun says it's far from the only one.
Scott Berkun: You can find this in almost any major city, where you’re driving along or walking along and all of a sudden there’s a diagonal shift to the way the grid pattern works. And it’s surprising, and you’re wondering, ‘Why did they do this to us? Why did they make it harder to find your way around a town?’ And almost always, it’s because you reached the dividing line between two different landowners.
Austin Amestoy: So, to sum it all up, Nick: Why do Missoula’s Slant Streets exist? Well. It made sense at the time.
Nick Mott: What a saga. Thanks for your reporting, Austin!
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