About

The I.M. Building in Pony, Montana has been a marvel to me since my earliest memories. An ancient cavern of bricks and boulders, boarded over so that light could only trace through the cracks, it was a storehouse of curiosities. But of course it started long before that.

The Isdell Mercantile Company was established in 1869 in Pony — twenty years before Montana was to become a state. N.J. Isdell sold mining supplies, seeds and agricultural goods, personal sundries, pots and pans, spices and dry goods, ribbons and shirt collars, fabric, wallpaper, paint, tools, traps, horse tack, wagons, and all manner of merchandise needed by the new and bustling town of Pony. At the turn of the century, his business was a thriving success, and the stone building was up and running where it still stands today. Isdell's daughter and son-in-law joined in the good fortune, and together they ran the family business at at 209 Broadway Street in the town the Madisonian newspaper called "the metropolis of Madison County."

Twenty years later, the town was all but abandoned. Gold had been discovered elsewhere in neighboring deposits, and most of the miners and families had moved on to richer hills. Pony went from a metropolis to a ghost town. Mr. Isdell had learned there was no escaping a morphine treatment for injuries sustained in war and horse accidents, and he elected to end his life rather than be held captive by the addiction. Eli Adkins, his son in law, had become a widower with grief of his own, and had moved away from Montana to escape painful memories. The great Isdell Mercantile Company and the building that carried its name had fallen into disrepair. In the 1960s, Charles Bovey moved showcases and merchandise from the building, and set them up in the towns of Nevada City and Virginia City on the other side of Hollowtop Mountain. The windows were broken, then boarded up. The floor became littered in old papers and business documents. The wilderness of the untamed west outside was working its way in.

The town was not without its charms. In the 1950s and 60s it had changed again, from ghost town to cowtown with some families of die-hard miners and ranchers dotting the surrounding areas. My grandmother, Elsie DeFrance ran a grocery store just down the street. My sister and I can both tell you in hindsight with absolute certainty that there is no finer thing than to have free reign in a grocery store with a glass counter candy display owned and operated by your grandmother, who is happy to let you pick a treat and take it outside to savor in the yard near the foothills of the Tobacco Roots Mountains. During her time as a store owner, she purchased the old stone mercantile building from Mr. Adkins so it could serve as storage for the Pony Cash Store and the family. Fifty years later every surface was stacked with defunct furniture, leftover building supplies, used doors and windows from renovation projects, barrels, broken tools, appliances and rusted machines, suitcases of musty old army clothes, trunks filled with musty old books, cigar boxes with wiry old reading glasses, poker chips, photos, tobacco tins with marbles and keys, decayed boxes with maps and magazines and stamp collections, bottles and jars, saws and axes, rock samples, mining helmets, tiny glass vials and rough massive crucibles, metal buckets of rock samples, oil cans. My old baby crib was folded up in the catwalk with rolls of insulation, copper pipes, vintage camping equipment, and a very matted buffalo hide, heavy with dust. In spite or because of all this, I had began to indulge a long held fascination with cleaning up the old building. Grandma thought I was crazy, but I spent endless holiday and weekend hours sifting through the cobweb covered old artifacts in the dark, boxing and labeling as I went. I was making progress on cleaning up the place. Generations of junk, marginally too good to throw away but definitely not good enough to use, had to be sorted, thrown out, fixed, sold, or given away to make space for a new beginning.

In 2018, I resigned from my 16 year job as a Technical Artist at a gaming software company in Bozeman to begin teaching Computer Science at Montana State University. That arrangment left my summers free to put my Pony work into high gear. In the Fall of 2024, enough cleaning had been done to accommodate a "Grand Re-opening" of the Isdell Mercantile Building. Glass was in the window panes, and dirt was off the floors. The outside world came in, and for the first time in nearly 100 years, the building was open to the public. A Farmer's Market was held in the store and in the neighboring lots outside. Musicians played on the new stage. Coffee, gelato, and other treats were sold inside. The I.M. Co. was back in business! The Madisonian newspaper, by now "Montana's Oldest Operating Weekly" published an article a week later. "Visitors enjoyed lemonade, tea, popcorn, fresh baked goods, and espresso, as a sizable crowd mingled in and out of the rustically elegant space." At least for that day in September.

It is far from finished. I have joined with friends and neighbors to continue in the quest to revitalize the building. My dad, Daryl DeFrance, has taken up the charge with me. Marinko Kordich, my brother-in-law and an esteemed stonemason restored the brick facade on top and installed a Tulikivi fireplace. Carl Pearson has moved his blacksmith business to Pony and has become instrumental in shaping the building's new character. See the Partners page for more on those affiliated with the I.M. Co.

My fascination with N.J. Isdell's great building continues, and I am more determined than ever to restore it to a new glory. I am delighted to share it with friends and family, the town of Pony, and the new visitors who stop by every year. The history of the area, the stunning beauty of it, and the enthusiasm of those it touches keeps the Isdell spirit alive.

See you in Pony!

Daniel DeFrance
Proprietor, I.M. Co.