It seems peaceful enough these days – but in years gone by, the Rocky Knob Lodge has been a gambling parlor, a supposed “house of ill repute” and the unquestionable domain of one of the most colorful women in the history of the Bitterroot Valley.

    Gilbert Lord, who’s dad homesteaded this part of the Bitterroot Valley, sold Jessie B. “Joe” White (better known as Ptomaine Joe) 620 acres where the Rocky Knob Lodge now sits.  The foundation of the first schoolhouse on the East Fork is barely visible about fifty feet due west of the building.

    “The Knob” has had several names.  It started as Joe’s Ranch 1945-1950: then the D-2 1950-1956: then the 5 L’s 1956-1963: and finally the Rocky Knob Lodge.  Holiday Highway 93 was built about 1930 and stretches from Guatemala to Alaska.  It was to be rebuilt in 30 years.  But, since at times things in life move slowly, new construction didn’t actually begin until 1982. 

    Construction on the Lodge began sometime before 1947.  The loggers and builders were paid for the logs and skill with trade and certain “favors.”  After a few months of construction, Ptomaine Joe had this grand old lodge.  The builders and loggers were very much in debt to her.  Needless to say the “favors became the favorite topic of discussion at the local ladies’ clubs.  As the story goes Ptomaine Joe had her grand opening dance on New Year’s Eve in 1947.  The name Joe’s Ranch can still be seen in the white rocks above the fireplace in the dining room. 

    One Saturday night, April 15, 1950 to be exact, shortly after 2 a.m. the band was a playin’, the folks were dancin’, and Ptomaine Joe was servin’ the drinks.  Then without warning, in danced the law and out danced Joe’s liquor license.  The atmosphere was never quite the same. 

    Ptomaine Joe did hang on to the place a few months longer selling hamburgers, steaks and her famous fried chicken, family style.  Her recipe has been passed on to each new proprietor.  Even today we still serve this delicious family style meal (we like to call it “Fried Chicken Ptomaine Joe Style”) for private parties. 

    We have been told that she left booze on the counter and a tub of iced down beer for the customers to pour for themselves.  The customers then deposited what they figured they owed in a coffee can at the end of the bar. 

    Eventually Joe was forced to sell.  The banker who held her note bent most of the bank’s rules to finally let Ptomaine Joe out gracefully.  The banker had to call for a real estate appraisal.  We have been told that Ptomaine Joe possessed a most colorful vocabulary.  Knowing that, it is not difficult for one to imagine her response when told that the appraisal on the 620 acres and this magnificent old lodge, every inch of which included part of Joe’s own personality, was a mere $10,000.  Why just a few months prior, when business was good, she had turned down $30,000 cash!  The banker agreed that it seemed somewhat low and about a month later found two families in the Stevensville area who purchased the property for $18,000. 

    The local residents and regulars gave Ptomaine Joe a grand farewell during a masquerade ball on Halloween night in 1950.  She reigned over the evening in a most appropriate costume – her mother’s black wedding dress. 

    We are told that Ptomaine Joe, a very real part of the history of the Bitterroot, left our area to begin her new career as a hostess somewhere in Nevada. 

    It has been said that on many cold winter’s night, the ghostly sound of coins rushing in the metal tray of a slot machine and the low voice of a woman can be heard. 

                “Welcome stranger I’m Ptomaine Joe.”