One Montana Voice by Mary Moe
First published in the Billings Gazette on May 14, 2026
Call it the Montana rule: If you, as an audience member in a Montana venue, badmouth a speaker, performer, player or coach, sure as shootin’ that person’s mother or brother or best friend is within earshot. Don’t do it.
I first learned that lesson as a surly 14-year-old attending the ceremonial opening of a building at what was then Eastern Montana College.
Montana’s governor was the keynoter, and I spent the better part of his speech making under-the-breath digs about him to my best friend.
Apparently, my sotto voce wasn’t that sotto. As the governor finished his remarks, he asked his wife, who was in attendance, to stand and be recognized. The woman sitting next to me gave me an unforgettably kind look as she rose, waved, and acknowledged the crowd’s applause.
That lady was Betty Babcock, and what a lady she was. Her husband left public office in 1969, but Betty had only just begun. She sought office as a delegate to Montana’s Constitutional Convention in 1972 and was one of only 36 Republicans elected.
Good thing she was! She was an unfailingly friendly and fair voice throughout the proceedings. Behind the scenes, she made sure that Montanans visiting the convention — nearly 17,000 people! — were welcomed with guided tours, a brief history lesson, and the opportunity to meet with delegates from their communities.
But her most important contribution came after the convention. Montana’s Supreme Court had ruled that left-over convention funds couldn’t be used to promote the Constitution’s ratification, so Betty provided her fellow delegates with an office in Helena’s Colonial Inn and joined them in fundraising and campaigning efforts. Most political observers, including revered journalist Chuck Johnson (RIP), believe her involvement was crucial to the ratification.
She wasn’t done. Like several other delegates, Betty later sought and won election to Montana’s Legislature. Like most of them, she found the highly partisan, game-playing legislative experience a far cry from the kumbaya of the constitutional convention. She didn’t seek reelection.
She stayed active in public service, though. Ever a lover of Montana heritage, she joined Chairman Mike Cooney on the State Capitol Restoration Commission and spent the better part of a decade helping him raise funds to update and restore Montana’s Capitol. It’s now a beautiful reflection of our history, determination, and connectedness.
She then trained her sights on the Montana Historical Society. It was too small and too out-of-date to display what its director called “one of the finest collections of Western art and Americana west of the Mississippi River.” Betty believed it was essential, a birthright really, for Montanans to have access to those stories, be inspired by them, and pass them on.
Convincing the legislature of that was no mean feat. It took 25 years, four governors, and 13 legislative session for the project to be completed. Betty Babcock died in 2013, half-way through the process.
And so it was that, 50 years after surly, 14-year-old me broke the Montana rule, I got a chance at atonement. In 2015, I joined 120 other legislators to approve naming the Montana Heritage Center after Betty Babcock and require a plaque commemorating her to be displayed there.
I visited the Center last month. It’s a marvel. The exterior evokes Montana landscapes while the interior provides a walking panorama of 10,000 years of Montana history, unforgettable Indigenous artifacts, and stunning artwork. Meeting rooms, a cafe, a museum store, rooftop views … wonderful.
But where’s Betty Babcock? The building is not named after her. It appears to be named for its largest donor. A huge wall with videos of each of the major donors greets the visitor at the entrance, but Betty isn’t one of them. Finally, in a quiet alcove wedged between plaques of the same size thanking project partners and tribal assistance, I found Betty’s plaque, dedicating the Montana Heritage Center to her memory.
I’m told lawyers were consulted and the plaque fulfills legislative intent. I’m told such generous donors expect top billing. (It’s the new Montana rule.) I’m told Betty’s family was OK with recognizing her in that way. I know Betty would be. Still …
I’ll just say what I shoulda said 61 years ago: Sorry, Betty.
Mary Sheehy Moe is a retired educator and former state senator, school board trustee, and city commissioner from Great Falls. Now living in Missoula, she writes a weekly column for Lee Montana.