The Curious Case of the Plute Bull
From obscurity to world record and RMEF national convention, John Plute’s 1899 monster bull boasts a history that still fascinates today.
by Jim Zumbo
PHOTOS FROM LEFT: Courtesy Jim Zumbo / RMEF
No one knows what really happened in 1899 on that fateful day in Colorado’s Dark Canyon, when John Plute, a coal miner from nearby Crested Butte, downed a giant bull elk with a .30-40 Krag. A confirmed meat hunter, he must have stood awestruck when he approached and saw those antlers up close. Now, 125 years later, many questions beg to be answered. Many of them are lost to history, but we still know a lot about the remarkable journey this bull has been on since Plute pulled the trigger.
It’s interesting to note that Plute killed the huge bull when elk were scarce, at their lowest population levels in recorded history. During that era, elk plummeted so sharply that more than 5,000 were captured from the Yellowstone National Park area and relocated in 36 states where the grand animals had been extirpated, or nearly so. The project, which began in 1892 (just seven years before Plute shot his bull), was highly successful throughout the West, but a failure in most of the other states where habitat, landowner concerns, politics and other factors came into play.
Pre-European settlement, historic accounts suggest there were some 10 million elk in North America. Certainly Colorado, the top elk state which currently has almost 300,000 elk, would have held thriving populations in those early days.
What happened to all those millions of elk that were present before European settlement? Most of us are aware that elk were slaughtered by colonists, ivory collectors, commercial meat hunters, hide hunters and others who had reasons to kill elk.
This was the era in which John Plute hunted. With elk extirpated from much of Colorado by the early 1800s, the U.S. Forest Service believes the elk population in the state had dwindled to as few as 500 to 1,000 animals. Of course, these estimates lacked the modern inventory and census techniques we have today. Nonetheless, even if the real numbers erred by a few thousand, that’s a far cry from the vast herds that Colorado enjoyed when homesteaders and miners colonized the state.
Because of the scarcity of elk—and deer as well—fresh wild meat was hard to come by. Plute must have been excited with his good fortune because he could trade some of the meat in exchange for his rent at the boarding house where he lived. Though the antlers were huge, no doubt the biggest he’d ever seen, he left them in the woods. They weren’t valued as they are today. When he returned from the hunt, he headed for the saloon he patronized to tell his buddies about his big bull.
His pals scoffed and didn’t believe him. Plute was a proud man and a savvy hunter. He wasn’t about to be criticized for exaggerating the bull’s size, so he returned to Dark Canyon and brought the antlers back to the saloon. His drinking buddies were awestruck when they saw the bull. No doubt they enjoyed many toasts, but little did they know the elk would become legendary, earning the title of the biggest typical bull in the world, a title that hung on for decades.
In 1915, after the antlers were left on the dirt floor of a garage for years, Plute decided to give them to saloon owner Tony Rozich to settle a bar bill. That suggests the interest Tony had in the bull. Most of the men patronizing his saloon were avid hunters and knew this was indeed a tremendous animal. Rozich believed the bull’s presence on the wall would make an impressive sight and attract people to his establishment.
It’s important to remember this scenario occurred a very long time ago and the story was passed on through many individuals. How wonderful it would have been to be a fly on the wall of that saloon and hear the conversations among the patrons when Plute related the details of the hunt as they drank, chewed tobacco and chatted, while the bull’s antlers towered above them. Of course, since the first Boone and Crockett standardized scoring system wasn’t developed until 1902, they had no reason to believe that their drinking buddy had pulled off a truly unbelievable accomplishment. They must have considered it an outstanding bull and nothing more.
PHOTO: RMEF
In the 1970s, I became fascinated by John Plute’s world record elk, then started digging into the story in the ‘80s. One of the first people I contacted was Jesse Williams, an affable guy and public information officer for Colorado Parks and Wildlife in Montrose. Jesse was also an official Boone and Crockett measurer. I met him at a wildlife meeting and most of our conversations revolved around Plute’s elk since he was the first to officially score it. Meeting Jesse and hearing about his experience added more intrigue to the story.
To understand the sequence of events that led to Jesse’s involvement is also intriguing. Ed Rozman, who was Tony Rozich’s stepson, inherited the saloon from Tony as well as the antlers in 1949. Here is the gist of the conversation Ed related to me when I visited Crested Butte in the 1980s.
“One day a stranger came into the bar and stared at the bull,” Ed told me.
“Why don’t you have those antlers measured?” the stranger asked.
“I don’t know how to score them,” Ed responded.
“My brother-in-law is related to someone in the Boone and Crockett Club. I’ll get in touch with him.”
Shortly afterward, Ed received the scoring form with instructions. He and his brother scored the antlers and came up with a whopping tally of 460 inches. They sent the form to the Boone and Crockett Club in 1955.
But the Boone and Crockett Club won’t consider a score as credible unless it’s tallied by an official measurer. Furthermore, if the antlers ranked high in the book, they were required to be scored by a panel. This was usually done at the annual convention. Ed indicated he thought there were only a few measurers around, and they were a four-hour drive away in Denver. He wasn’t interested in investing the time and money to pack and ship the rack. The antlers remained on the wall, though Ed continued to keep an eye open for a measurer.
Later, a member from the Elks Lodge in Hotchkiss, Colorado, came into the bar and immediately spotted the huge bull. He asked Ed if he could borrow the antlers as a display at an upcoming party. Ed saw an opportunity. He agreed to loan the antlers to the lodge only if the lodge would have them scored. Soon the rack was on its way to Hotchkiss, 55 miles from Crested Butte. It was the first time Ed allowed the bull to be taken out of town.
Enter Jesse Williams. During our conversation he told me he remembered his initial reaction upon seeing the bull hanging in the Elks Lodge. “I was floored,” he told me. “I looked at those giant antlers and knew the bull would rank very high in the book. After I caught my breath, I realized it was going to take some doing to remove the antlers from the wall.” With help from lodge members and ladders he was able to lower the elk to the floor and take the measurements. He couldn’t believe it. He was looking at the new unofficial world record typical bull elk.
Here is the letter Jesse wrote to Mrs. Grancel Fitz, secretary of the Boone and Crockett Club, dated December 15, 1961:
“Looks like this is a new world’s record. I was rather conservative in my measurements; however, in that this is a new record you possibly might want to check my measurements. I believe that the Elks Lodge in Hotchkiss would send the antlers to you if you request it. However, it would be quite a chore to cart them up in that they are so large.”
Elks Lodge members sent the antlers to the Boone and Crockett headquarters in New York City and the rack was scored by a panel in 1961. When the panel announced the official score of 442 3⁄8, a huge buzz swept through the hunting community. The bull from Dark Canyon earned top place in the prestigious record book 62 years after John Plute killed it.
Plute never knew just how special his elk was. Ed explained to me that Plute attended a party at a ranch in 1922, and, after enjoying a beverage or two, took off on a green-broke horse to go for a ride. When he didn’t return after several hours, a search party rode out and found him lying in a river. He was either bucked off his horse or fell off and had suffered a severe head injury. Plute was transported out by horse and buggy and taken to a hospital, where he died shortly afterward.
After talking to Williams and reading some early articles, I found that many details of the elk were passed along by folks who knew Plute, many of whom were deceased. The story that was patched together was amazing to me, and I was interested in doing a bit of research myself just for the joy of meeting people involved. I also wanted to see firsthand the country where the bull was killed and chat with Ed Rozman. And, of course, see this great bull with my own eyes. Besides, and very importantly, I was working full time as an editor and writer for Outdoor Life. When I came up with the idea of writing a story about the Plute Bull, my editors were most interested. They wanted the article posthaste. I made some calls to Crested Butte and talked to Ed. I found that the bull, now wearing a beautiful cape and mounted by Jonas Brothers Taxidermy in Denver, was hanging in a gas station in Crested Butte. As it turned out, Ed was a pivotal factor in the story. I made an appointment to meet him. I’ll admit that I was beyond excited when I drove into Crested Butte in the early ‘80s.
I had no trouble finding the popular bull. He was hanging in a small Conoco gas station in the middle of town. As I opened the door, I saw several older gentlemen standing around a potbellied stove, most of them wearing bib coveralls and sporting full mouths of chewing tobacco. They all looked at me in the doorway as I stood transfixed by the sight of the world record elk. The big bull was right there—just a couple yards in front of me, hanging on the wall.
Ed introduced himself and we chatted about a project we’d planned during a phone conversation. It was my fervent desire to move the shoulder-mounted bull as close as possible to Dark Canyon where it had lived so we could take some pictures. Ed agreed and seemed happy to do so. To get the bull out of the building, we had to remove a window using a screwdriver because the massive mount wouldn’t fit through the door. I was holding my breath as we took it off the wall and eased it out to the pickup truck where we tied it in the bed with ropes.
As we drove, I felt like I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the bull moving around a little. It was tied well enough not to fall out, but still, I worried. I had to keep reminding myself that the biggest elk in the world was in the truck bed.
Finally, Ed directed me to a pull-off next to the highway. We gingerly untied the bull and lifted it out. Dark Canyon was off in the distance. Ed posed with the bull, but I was so excited I didn’t realize he was squinting in most of the shots, though I managed to get some acceptable pictures. We returned the bull to the gas station without incident.
Before I left Crested Butte, I wanted to find out more about John Plute and find his grave. A 90-year-old lady that Ed knew, who lived in a rest home outside of Crested Butte, indicated she knew Plute when she was very young. She remembered him as a strong, rugged miner who loved to hunt and spent most of his free time in the woods, but she didn’t know where he was buried. I inquired with locals as to the whereabouts of his grave but came up empty. There were at least three small cemeteries in the area. I visited them all, reading as many headstones as I could. Ed pointed me to another old woman living in Crested Butte, at the time a very small town where everyone knew everyone else, who thought his headstone was a very small granite stone lying on the ground. I never found it.
The next time I saw the bull was at the very first RMEF convention in Spokane, Washington, in April 1985. RMEF was barely a year old, and I was curious about it. Frankly, I felt skeptical that the organization would go anywhere, but I learned that the four biggest typical bulls in the world would be on display, including the Plute Bull, of course. The other three came from Alberta, Montana and Wyoming. I decided to go. Maybe there was some credibility to this RMEF outfit after all.
The convention was held during Easter weekend and my wife wasn’t very excited about driving a thousand miles with our two youngest kids to attend the event, but we ended up enjoying it. The trophy elk display was the biggest draw, which was no surprise. People jockeyed for position where they could get closer looks and take pictures.
Getting those bulls was no easy feat. It took months of planning to bring them to Spokane. Charlie Decker, RMEF co-founder, told me a volunteer transported the Plute elk from Crested Butte in a small U-Haul trailer barely big enough to contain the bull.
It appeared the Plute Bull would hold its world record position for many more decades, if not forever, but on February 28, 1995, Alan Ellsworth was waiting at an intersection in a town near Arizona’s White Mountains when he spotted a pickup loaded with a washer and dryer and a huge elk rack. Ellsworth, a local antler buyer, was an expert on antlers. When he first glanced at the rack, he was certain it would score more than 400. Then he revised his figure to 420. The rack was so big he followed the truck, and when it stopped at a restaurant, he approached the driver. He was curious and eager to get a closer look. The woman who was driving the truck said they belonged to her deceased brother. Ellsworth struck up a deal and was able to purchase the antlers.
When he got home, he quickly measured them and came up with a score of 438. He had to go to work and couldn’t believe the rack was that big. He figured he must have made a mistake. He re-measured the rack when he returned home, this time very carefully and twice. Ellsworth was astounded when the antlers scored 445 4⁄8. Now he was really excited, but also in disbelief. Could I possibly have a new world record? he wondered. When the bull was officially panel scored by B&C, the rack measured a whopping 442 5⁄8 which beat the Plute elk by a quarter inch. Had Ellsworth not recognized the enormity of the rack when it was in the back of the truck between the washing machine and dryer, who knows where that bull would have ended up?
Ellsworth had to know the history of the antlers. He learned that the woman’s brother, Alonzo Winters of Globe, Arizona, killed it in Arizona’s White Mountains near the Black River during the fall of 1968. Winters used a Savage Model 99 in .308 caliber. Interestingly, Arizona law requires that a metal band be firmly attached to the rack, but the antlers were so massive that Alonzo cut a notch in the bull’s antler between the G-4 and G-5 tines to fit the band around it. The bull was stored in a garage and remained undiscovered for years. Alonzo Winters, like John Plute, passed away before his antlers were declared the new world record.
And what happened to Plute’s bull? As Ed Rozman advanced in age, he decided to sell the bull. Although there were many requests for him to have replicas made, he refused. He insisted that there be only one Plute Bull—the original.
The grand animal was sold in an auction on September 21, 2016, for $121,000 to local Colorado businessman Matt Miles, who had long admired it. “I saw the auction notice, but as an elk hunter, if it’s not your antlers it’s worthless as a personal trophy,” Miles told the Crested Butte News. “But I got to thinking about it and was worried that it could end up in some office in Dallas. I felt it needed to stay in Crested Butte, so I decided to make a run on it and try to keep it in the public eye, as opposed to it disappearing.”
Ed Rozman passed away on February 20, 2017, at age 94, just a few months after the famous bull changed ownership. John Plute’s elk can now be viewed at the Crested Butte Museum, where Miles believes it belongs. And so do countless other people. Though John Plute died in relative obscurity, his name lives on because of the magnificent elk that captured the imagination of those of us who love elk and elk hunting.
Jim Zumbo is an RMEF Life Member and early supporter of the organization. He is a prolific outdoor writer and a former hunting editor of Outdoor Life, authoring multiple books on hunting and producing outdoor television shows. He was recently inducted into the Wyoming Outdoor Hall of Fame and is a recipient of the Wallace Pate Award, which is RMEF’s highest honor.
RMEF’s beginning is inextricably tied to the Plute Bull. In an impressive logistical feat, co-founders Charlie Decker and Bob Munson and their wives Yvonne and Vicky, along with Bugle editor Lance Schelvan and his wife Lois, and their friends Alan and Judy Christensen, planned the first RMEF national convention in less than three months. The convention was held in Spokane, Washington, in April 1985, and included booths, speakers and the top four typical elk of all time. As ambassadors for their species, these extraordinary animals hailing from Colorado, Wyoming, Montana and Alberta were a big part of helping RMEF draw visitors in the door. For elk enthusiasts, this represented a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see all four of these giant bulls in one place. “Convention-goers wandered from room to room taking in a myriad of other elk-oriented programs and exhibits, but the magnetism of the trophy room kept drawing people back,” wrote Bud Journey in the summer 1985 edition of Bugle. The convention, held on Easter weekend at the Sheraton Hotel, drew over 300 registered guests and 2,000 visitors who came to tour the exhibits. Among the guests were people that went on to be influential in the early days of the organization, including outdoor writers Pat McManus and Jim Zumbo (who had a conversation with Bob Munson at the convention and joined the advisory board as a result), renowned scientist Jack Ward Thomas and well-known bowhunter Dwight Schuh.
