PROFILES: My Grandmother’s Friends

Left to right:  Mrs. Zaharia, Margaret 'Toots' Ryan, Florence Godon, Esther Cleem (Florence and Esther were Thiefault sisters...), and Alberta 'Pat' Fitzpatrick Baudette, and in front, my grandmother, Elizabeth Fitzgerald Fitzpatrick in the wheelchair...

All the women in this picture (with the exception of my Aunt Pat who just happened to be home visiting that day...) were part of a group of friends who regularly hung out with one another, on an almost daily basis.  Growing up in St. Vincent, I saw many of them myself daily, as we all went about our business.  Most of the time, they were busy keeping house, looking after their families.  But as they went about their days, they would often run into one another at stores or church, in their yards or on the street, or stop by and visit.  Years ago, there was no common desire to avoid people and self-isolate as is common today; quite the contrary - most people sought out opportunities to socialize, to catch up.  

Names that still conjure up well-remembered faces and voices:

• Mrs. Zahara (a Ukrainian lady whose strong accent made me nod a lot without knowing a thing she was actually saying), 
• Matilda Cameron (a well-regarded seamstress whose second husband Wallace Cameron was a famous town constable), 
• Esther Cleem (who along with her husband were victims of a home invasion turned deadly), 
• Mrs. Gardiner (whose family tragedies rivaled my own Aunt Lena’s), 
• Florence Godon, whose husband Bill worked for many years with my Dad at the Noyes depot,
• Toots Ryan (good friend and neighbor-across-the-alley of my grandmother),
• Glenice Friebohle (good friend of my mother’s), 
• Ena Scobbie (wife of first pastor I remember of St. Vincent Evangelical Free Church), and 
• Cousins Hattie  Schwenzfeier, Annie Nordine, Mabel Steien, and Faye Lyberg.

They all loved to gab, to share news and gossip, and to have a good laugh.  In other words, they loved to visit!  They were never at a loss for words.  There were no awkward silences.  If anything, people spoke over top of one another at times, interjected at others, and at still other times, the room divided into two or three subgroups like modern-day ‘threads’, multiple simultaneous conversations, and later came back into one again.  

The one who was more often than not dropping by Grandma’s place, or she to her’s, was Toots Ryan.  Toots lived north of Grandma’s place, just out the back door, through the back yard, and across the alley.  As you’d approach Toot’s house, you would notice the steps were higher than most around town.  That’s because the house had been put up on a higher foundation, my guess to protect the home’s contents in case of flooding.  It was the only house like that in town, but I later thought that was pretty smart thinking.  But as a little girl, the time period I knew Toots well, it never crossed my mind - it was just the way it was.  Her steps were harder to get up than my Grandma’s, each one a bit taller than normal, so I’d have to lift my little legs especially higher and give an extra hrmph to lift myself up.  The top step was a length of railroad tie, then the highest step of all over the lintel into the house proper.  

The door led into the kitchen, which as I recalled had one length of counter along the west wall.  There was a sink like at home, but instead of a faucet and water turns for hot and cold, there was a hand pump, which brought up water up from a private well under the house.  I have a feeling there was probably more of these at one time, but to my knowledge it was the only one left in town by then, the early 1960s.  There was still a town hand pump just kitty-corner from the Ryan home, by the town pond and curling rink.  Knowing more now historically, I think the town pond and pump may have served multiple reasons - for watering animals, water for people, water for fighting fires.  Heck, Grandma would have me go fetch buckets of water for her, to water her garden during the summer, since drinking water for her cost her precious money; at that time, most of us had our water brought in by water trucks, costing x-amount much per 1,000 gallons, stored under the house in cisterns. Anyways, I always thought it was so interesting that Toots still pumped her water.  She had a big stove in her house, too, but I never noticed what kind it was.  

The only other room in the downstairs was her parlor.  The first time I saw the parlor was on a visit to Toots with my Mom; in the parlor were two chairs, and a piano.  I hadn’t started playing the piano yet, but we had one that I was always tinkling on at home, showing an interest in learning already.  So it wasn’t surprising at all that I headed straight for it the first time I saw hers.  It had a fascinating seat, not a bench like ours, but a stool.  I found out immediately that it could be adjusting in height, delightfully by spinning it to the right for up, or left for down.  The stool’s feet looked like the claws of an animal, and clutched within those claw were small, clear, crystal balls.  I opened the lid to the keys to see keys that had faint marbling and yellowing, which I later learned meant they were real ivory keys made from elephant tusks.  A few were missing, but most were still there.  The really cool part was when I began ‘playing’ the keys, I learned the piano was badly out-of-tune.  However, to me, that made is all the more special:  It reminded me of the pianos played in the old western movies on TV - in tune enough to make out familiar melodies, but enough out-of-tune to be an authentic saloon piano!  

Once I wore out my welcome on the piano, I jumped off to rejoin the women (my Mom and Toots, visiting…)  Toots was a shorter-than-average lady, who was almost as round as she was tall.  That day, I was probably about four years old.  I interjected into their conversation with the observation, “You’re really fat!”  There was sudden silence.  Then Toots erupted into what I can now only describe as jolly laughter.  My Mom directed a mortified, “Patricia Kaye!” Towards me.  Toots came to my rescue by saying, “Patricia Kaye, eh?  That used to be my favorite chewing gum!”  She got a kick out of my outburst.  I had no idea I had done anything wrong, stating the obvious.  Toots and I always got along famously after that early meeting - I would often run out my Grandma’s back door and run over to her house and into her house up those high stairs.  

But when Grandma had friends drop by, there was a lot of visiting…and always over tea and baked goods.  The visiting might start off slow and casual, and build up to stories filled with gales of laughter; or they might start out with an excited, “Have you heard…?”  Whether it was a neighbor, or a cousin coming from across the county, in those days, people would often just pop in, no call ahead - no one minded, in fact, it was an occasion to be excited about.  Out would come the teapots full of Red Rose tea, served up with bars, cookies, and sometimes even cake…but always plenty of tea!  If Mrs. Zahara was in attendance when I was there, I would avail her of her talents and beg her for a reading of the tea leaves. I wish I could recall at least one of those readings now…

Minstrel Show at Kittson Hall

A broadside announcing an upcoming
performance (apologies re: language)
[Published by Pioneer Express] 

In the late 19th and early 20th century, live entertainment was king.  In Pembina, a good share of it was performed on the local opera house's stage, Kittson Hall.

Kittson Hall was a modest venue, seating 250 patrons, managed by W. C. Short.  It brought in various music hall and vaudeville performing acts - singers, comedy, theatre.  

Georgia Minstrels were coming to town:
Touring Vaudeville Shows at the city hall
[Source:  Pioneer Express,  December 29, 1898]

Troupes such as minstrel shows also came through town.  This example (including acceptable language for that time period that is no longer tolerated today) is for a minstrel group set to perform a variety show.

Even in our small villages, through the seemingly 'innocent' acts of entertainment, racial stereotypes were continually reinforced down through the years...

John K. McCulloch, Champion Skater

John K. "Jack" McCulloch

Jack McCulloch came to Pembina to put on an exhibition skating, the year he turned professional.  It was the year after he won the World Amateur Speed Skating championship in Montreal, Quebec. 

 




Jack was a local and regional sports celebrity, followed by many in the four corners (and far beyond...) It was an exciting event for him to visit and put on a demonstration, and even race locals!  Pembina residents made sure everything was ready, especially the skating rink...

McCulloch visited Pembina on January 5, 1899.
[Source:  Pembina Express, December 29, 1898]

Pembina  is one of four towns known as the corners.  Of these four towns Pembina is in Dakota, St. Vincent in Minnesota, and West Lynne and Emerson in Manitoba.  Emerson and St. Vincent lie on the right bank and the other two on the left bank of the Red River.  A favorite evening drive is to make the circuit of the four corners crossing the bridge between Emerson and West Lynne and the ferry between St. Vincent and Pembina.

St. Vincent Union Industrial Association Fairs

In Minnesota fairs are older than the state itself, having "made their appearance ... in the early 1850's," just at the zenith of the golden age of such institutions in the United States. Compared with later exhibitions the early fairs were primitive indeed, yet they more than justified their existence. They gave the isolated pioneer farmer a chance to meet his fellows, to have a good time; and by showing him late developments in machinery, fine livestock, and new techniques in farming, they gave him an incentive to improve his own farming. - From a talk called, "Early Minnesota Agricultural Societies & Fairs," presented at the Minnesota Historical Society's annual convention, held July 26, 1941.

Walter John Strickland Traill

The first day of the St. Vincent Union Industrial Association Fair was favored with good weather.  

The native pony race was won by Jim, Shylock second, Kate third.  The trotting race was won by Julia, Dan second, Topsey third.  

The judges were Walter J.S. Traill, C.C. Law, and D. Livingstone (The St. Paul Daily Globe, October 10, 1889).

1918 Fair Results-War Gardens

1906 Fair Dates - Always late
Fall, for these local fairs . . .

...and these early fairs, are what were the seeds of our county fairs of today, including the Kittson County Fair in Hallock!

Junction Drive Inn

These are photographs from the Larson Family Collection. Before there was an Interstate Drive-In (just west of the old KCND-TV building in Pembina), the Larson family started their drive-in business on the Minnesota side, at the (St. Vincent) Junction.

It was a much smaller affair, but much loved in its time. So much so, they had to build a larger one. It was right around the time that I-29 was being built, and the Larson family wisely thought it might be a great location for the new Drive-In. My older sisters Sharon and Betty Short were among the many young ladies who worked there in high school as waitresses...

Sociability Run: Jefferson Highway

[Note — General Manager McDougal of the Pershing Way [Association], who was for a short time Publicity Commissioner of the Jefferson Highway,  admits that he appropriated from the Jefferson many of the successful methods he is using on the Pershing. He also admits they are pretty good. 

We likewise are going to appropriate the story of his trip to Winnipeg, and in doing so likewise admit it is pretty good. That Manager [Herbert F.] McDougal has a microscopic eye, a retentive memory and a happy way of telling it is evidenced by what he saw and tells of his trip. 

Judging from his experience at the "Line", he should have borrowed the Jefferson's Rabbit Foot. 

Mr. McDougal's story will be read, with interest by the J. H. family, especially those who "made the trip" last July.  The following is an excerpt about the final leg of the run...]

AT Hallock the P. W. runs onto the Jefferson Highway marks and continues with them the rest of the way, going through Northcote, Humboldt, St. Vincent and Noyes to the International Boundary.

The Jefferson Highway touring group paused their sociability run 
in Emerson for "short" speeches and this group photograph...

Pro-lemonaders made another hit when Bronson was reached, where "most excellent lemonade was served" by the ladies. Decorations were mainly American and Canadian flags. Mayors Hodgson and Behrman spoke. The hotel menu at Hallock, a noon control, was a novelty, and uniquely distinctive over any other during the entire trip. Part of it was in French, and embraced dishes served especially in New Orleans. Banners and flags formed the principal decorative feature. Luncheon was served at the hotel and restaurants in the city. The Custom Houses of Noyes and Emerson were soon passed, owing to arrangements having been made beforehand. Short speeches were made by Governor Pleasant and Mayor Hodgson at Emerson.¹

We had been sweeping along across the prairie, much of the time with no fences along the road, and came to a turn to the east along what, as memory recalls it, looked like the back side of a farm yard with perhaps an orchard bordered with forest trees in a sort of a scrubby growth. Straight ahead and eighty rods beyond was a dingy railroad station, and just before we reached it a turn to the right and north.

Before us loomed a signboard, high on stilts, announcing the "International Boundary," and there was a moment of bewilderment as we saw in one direction a road turning off to the station and in the other a pair of ruts curving around as entering the farm yard.

The original routing of the Jefferson Highway entered Canada directly from Noyes,
Minnesota into Emerson, Manitoba, Canada.   This is the approximate route the JH
followed. [Source:  Two Lane Traveler] NOTE:  The red line leading off 171 going
north was the 'Emerson Road' (dirt when I was growing up, now plowed under...)  

Over this seeming by-road was the remains of an arch¹, placed there last July to welcome the Jefferson Highway tourists on their great sociability run, and the presence of the arch gave rise to the theory that this must be the entrance to the Dominion. Pursuing the tracks a bit further we were convinced that we really were on the highway into the neighboring nation, for at the side of the road was a glorified Keep Off the Grass Sign, bearing a solemn warning against going across the line without proper formalities.

The road took another turn and crossed a railroad track, which itself had crossed another track just previously. The one was the Soo, which ran along the margin of Canada, and the other was the Canadian Pacific, both heading for Winnipeg. All our pictures of an imposing entrance into Canada were dashed, as almost any country cross road is as pretentious. But still there was something picturesque about it and something that impressed itself upon the memory.

There are two railroad stations — one on the American side and one across in Canada, and at each immigration and customs officials, representing the two governments, are on guard. It looked as if it was a pretty simple thing, after all, getting into a foreign country, but it took just about an hour to do it, for a becapped official, swinging down the track to reach the switch tower and climb its dizzy steps to the bird-like house above, said that there was nothing to do but to report to the officials at the Emerson station, which took time and proved not to be the right thing, for we were first to go a mile or such a matter up town and be interviewed by the immigration official and get a card and then go across the street to where the Union Jack flew over the government building, and make our clearance at the customs office.

THE customs officials were polite, but inquisitive. They wanted to know how many in the party, what make of car, how many cylinders, its license number and factory number, whether it was equipped with windshield, top, speedometer and clock, and how much it cost, what baggage we carried and whether we had any camping equipment and how long we expected to tarry in Winnipeg.

Then a very nice old gentleman came down and rummaged through our suit cases in a formal and perfunctory way, withal rather thorough. But first there had come up the serious question as to the very typewriter on which this is being written. It is one of the folding sort and a constant companion. The G. M. would be lost without it, and the work of the organization would be hampered. It was rather important that it, too, make the trip into Winnipeg, for there would be the matter of correspondence and perhaps some magazine stuff.

But the officials were stern about it. They said that the wee machine was dutiable and that we had better put it in hock, so to speak, at the customs office to be picked up on our return, and to borrow a machine in Winnipeg. It looked as if the typewriter was to part company with the official car.

But the missus, waiting all this time down in the auto, said it didn't sound reasonable to her that a car and all that luggage could go in and a mere typewriter barred.

So we went back and argued that the typewriter was a tool of the trade and analogous to a monkey wrench in the tool box.

But these English are a fixed folk. They all had a look at the proposition, and turned it down; it wasn't regular. Then we offered to put up a cash bond, and finally succeeded in parting with $13 to that end, the money being in good American currency. Seeing the brand of money on deposit, a kind gentleman in the office suggested that we would be entitled to that sort back, as it was at a premium in Canada. So, on our return, we got $13.40 in Canadian currency, taking it across to the bank to be exchanged for American money. The rate of exchange had fluctuated during the walk across the street, however, and the bank demanded 50 cents instead of the 40 we had been paid.

And even at that we afterward discovered that we had a few Canadian bills in our script and had to give a discount on them.

BUT our troubles were not over yet. We discovered that our Canadian immigration permit, nor our clearance papers from the customs were sufficient; the becapped gentleman had deceived us. We had to go all the way back to the American side, to that little station of Noyes, to see a blue-eyed Irishman named Fahey in order to get a formidable document showing that Uncle Sam was willing to relinquish us for a few days.

That document had to be turned in to the Canadian customs officials, and then we were ready to go — all excepting the changing of a flat tire that had grown discouraged and depressed during all this formality. If we had known about the rest of that night that tire would have worried us.

But let us move on.

Over a bridge, combined wagon and railroad, under a viaduct we turned and then we were on the road to Winnipeg, sure enough. A little further and we were as good as in France, for, turning into a little village that proved to be Letellier, we grew uncertain of the way and stopped at a house to make inquiries if this were truly the way to Winnipeg.

The answer was "Oui, oui," which the doughboys all will recognize at once.

Turning just at the edge of that little village, which was mostly edge, we were at once in the old Hudson Bay Company's trail, a road 132 feet wide that goes in windings along the Red River of the North right into Winnipeg and becomes Main street, remaining 132 feet wide. That and Portage avenue, at right angles and of the same width, are boasted the widest streets in the world.

The boundary is sixty-eight miles from Winnipeg, and all the tedious details at Emerson, had taken time. It was 5 o'clock when we left Emerson, and that was Canadian time, the Canadians not having turned their watches ahead as the States had.

So we rather stepped forward a little on the gas, for there was a certain strangeness about the country that urged us to get along before dark covered the unknown roads. The trail at places was little more than sections of a fenced pasture, with ruts winding about between an endless row of telephone and telegraph poles. Winnipeg is paving out for miles and someday will have a concrete road to the border, no doubt, but nature still holds sway largely as yet there.

Jefferson Highway Sociability Run, NOLA to Winnipeg
L'Observateur (Reserve, Louisiana) · 28 Jun 1919

And we came into St. Jean Baptiste, a French town of 500 with only two English families in it. We sought to replenish our gas supply and pulled up at a garage and said "Five gallons." The tank filled up as we filled with astonishment. The answer was that we were getting British Imperial gallons, 277.274 cubic inches to the gallon, instead of our own United States gallons of 231 cubic inches. Five of our British cousin's gallons made six of our own, but we paid 40 cents for each and every gallon. 

They said in Winnipeg that American watches can be bought cheaper there than in the states, the protective tariff making it thus, but there was nothing like that about the gasoline, even Imperial gallons. 

Hunger was gnawing and we decided to have a bite to eat, much as we hated to waste daylight. So we asked for the eating place and were directed to a little wooden building that plainly was labeled "Public Hotel." 

Entering we found a dingy office that was a combination of a barber shop and bar. Prohibition had put the bar out of business, age had done for the barber chair, and the prospect was discouraging. But that was where appearances were deceptive, for, after a brief delay, we were led into a neat little dining room and |served with a supper as only the French served food. Bright-eyed French girls were jabbering French in the kitchen, and one of them went to the telephone and assaulted it with a flow of language that was beyond us. 

Then a husky chap went up to the instrument and bawled out a question. "What's the score?" he demanded. It seemed that Cincinnati had won. We felt quite at home for a minute. 

WE had been inquiring anxiously about the road conditions, and the official car had attracted considerable attention, so supper done, we stepped out of the dining room into the midst of a curious crowd that wanted to talk. The men all agreed that the best road lay across the Red River, and they grinned as they said that the largest city along the way was Winnipeg. Afterward we came to realize the point of the remark. Only one village intervened in all that fifty miles. The rest of the trip lay through a country where a house was a surprise and bachelor shanties were the rule. Mile after mile was along a fence-less road that ran at will and at angles, but it was a good road, except lonesome. In the distance we could see straw stacks burning in various places, and occasionally we passed an automobile, but mostly there were solid banks of second growth white birches.

If we had ever needed a bit of gas or some air pressure we'd have had quite a walk for it. And there was that flat spare on the rack!

It sounds a bit dreary, just to tell about it. but it really was a wonderful drive, with the air balmy and the night pleasant. Occasionally we would wonder whether we were on the right road, and would stop at a house to make inquiries. Always we were, although sometimes the children had to be called up to translate, the parents being French.

The engine worked to perfection, the tires held out and we had had a good supper, so on we sped, over bridges, through woods, out in the open. Finally we came to that sole village, passed it, got out into the wilds again and wondered. Then there appeared one of the blessed concrete roads that Winnipeg has built out for nine miles, and we felt as if we were nearing the goal.

But the lights of Winnipeg didn't settle all of our troubles. There was the matter of a hotel. A motorman, waiting to catch his car, offered advice. It wasn't any good, for every hotel he mentioned was full for the night. Finally, after we had tried one after the other, we were forced to put up at one that always will haunt our memories and make as firm in favor of strict hotel inspection laws.

The next morning we found room in a comfortable one...
____________

¹ - "A very artistic arch-way had been erected at the border, but we had already been made to feel that we would be just as much at home in Canada as in Louisiana." [The Story of the Run, The Modern Highway, Vol 4, No. 7, August 1919, Pub. by the Jefferson Highway Association]

Traveling Shows: Uncle Tom's Cabin

Source:  Pembina Pioneer Press (August 13, 1897)

In his book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin on the American Stage and Screen,” drama professor and theater historian John Frick of the University of Virginia’s College of Arts & Sciences chronicles how Stowe’s novel was adapted to theater not long after the book the plays were based on, was published – and details how, by the beginning of the 20th century, more than 400 separate companies traveled and performed some theatrical version of the story.

The Tom Shows as they were colloquially known as, were “ubiquitous and part of the common culture by the end of the 19th century...” Professor Frick said – a theatrical phenomenon that bridged culture, commerce and ideology.

The shows were a small industry built on the genre known as moral reform dramas or melodramas, such as “The Drunkard," “The Gambler,” or "Ten Nights in a Barroom," which were widely received.

Midway through the traveling shows' popularity, the show advertised in this newspaper ad (see left) came to our area, including Pembina.  Going by what the write-ups uncovered, it would have been quite the show, especially under a big tent as it was.  Excitement would have pervaded the atmosphere as you waited for the show to start!  Prior to the show, the show's performers  would arrive in town to much fanfare, later parading through the town to drum up business, encouraging one and all to attend the show that night.  Yes, it would be quite exciting for small towns in 1897...

Part of the Terry Show's train, and company readying themselves for the pre-show parade...

Terry Show troupe portrait, in front of the show's tents; note Uncle Tom's Cabin in center back...

StVHS Sports: 1927/28

Vintage St. Vincent High School pennant from 1920s

[Guest article by Michael Rustad, originally from nearby Humboldt, MN]

In the summer of 1999, my daughter Erica and I visited the town of St. Vincent.

There is no longer a bridge connecting the central business districts of Pembina, North Dakota and St. Vincent. The old bridge connecting the towns that I remember as a child has long been dismantled. The places that I remember in St. Vincent have long since closed. Short's Cafe, Sylvester's Store, the Curling Rink, St. Ann's Catholic Church, and the St. Vincent Fairgrounds. The curling rink is now neglected and in state of decay. The Church is a private residence. The St. Vincent School, too, is in a state of benign neglect. The school is in disrepair and the fire escape slide detached.

It was difficult for me to explain to my daughter that St. Vincent was once a bustling community. We attended catechism each summer in the basement of St. Ann's Catholic Church. We had a large number of ball games in the yard outside the church which is now overgrown and marred by abandoned cars. When my sister and I visited the Kittson County Museum in Lake Bronson, I was amazed to find some high school yearbooks [called Borderlines] from St. Vincent High School. St. Vincent High School closed in the late 1930s and never reopened. Instead, it eventually consolidated its school district with Humboldt from 1957 to 1991.

[Note from Trish:  In-between StVHS closing and St. Vincent consolidating with Humboldt, students had the choice of attending Pembina High School, or other schools in Kittson County like Hallock...]

It was an unexpected joy to find yearbooks from the St. Vincent High School from the 1920s. This was a yearbook from a small town in NW Minnesota prior to the Depression. High school life in St. Vincent was marked by lots of school spirit judging from the many activities. St. Vincent fielded a football team, basketball team, hockey team, track team and baseball team in [school year] 1927/28.

"If you could walk or run, you were in the starting line-up."

Mohammed Ali Bhamrahad, Peddler

When Mohammed was born (August 1, 1892), the countries we know today didn't exist. During the Ottoman rule "Syria" was the name of a region that was otherwise known as the Levant. The word "Syria" did not depict any separate entity/state but a geographical area the same way we use today the words "Western Europe", or "Far East". Lebanon was in the region of Syria but it was a semi-autonomous mutasarrifiyya (like a country) which was established in 1860. The leader of Lebanon was chosen by European nations and it was off-limits for the Turkish army.

When France took over the (Syrian) region, there were actually 6 countries: the state of Aleppo, state of Damascus, Jabal el druze, Alexandretta, Allawite state and Greater Lebanon. Some of the five other regions were annexed by Lebanon.

Toward the end of the mandate, Alexandretta got annexed by Turkey, Lebanon gained full independence, and the other four were merged together into a new country that adopted the name "Syria".

Lebanon has always been a de facto separate entity since the 1500s even if many historic maps don't show it; France simply decided to put it on paper and make it official.
___________

Mohammed Allay Bomrad was born near Beirut (?) in Damascus, Syria in 1892. He arrived in the Edinburg, North Dakota area in 1915, using that town as his mailing address while he traveled around Walsh, Pembina and Cavalier counties, selling his wares and working on farms during the busy seasons.

As a country peddler, he first made his route with a sack on his back selling notions, toiletries, dress goods, medicines, jewelry and other essentials.

In 1917, he bought his first horse. In 1922, his "one hoss shay" was replaced with a wagon when he bought a second horse, making a team - Bud and Biada, which he treated with utmost care. When talked sharply to them, he would say: "I'm talking Irish."

He wasn't "fussy" about where he slept - hay stacks, hay lofts - but later, when he was better known, he would find lodging and a bite to eat at some farm homes. For a number of years, he frequently stayed at the Sigurdson home west of Gardar.

Although he was thrifty, he was known for his kindness and generosity. During the flu epidemic of 1918, he spent weeks helping farmers who were victims of the "flu bug," never mentioning pay. He loaned money, trusted his customers when they were unable to pay. He sent much money to relatives in Syria and retained his Islamic faith by reading publications. He made regular trips to Vang on election days to mark his "X" as he had received his citizenship papers in Cavalier County. He stated it was a privilege for an American to vote.

"The Syrian Muslim, Mohammed Ali Bhamrahad...He lived among the Icelanders in America his entire life. He was
quite a legend and a very sweet man." - Janet Muldoon.  [Photo taken west of Mountain, ND and up the hill on the
Pembina Escarpment, also known as Schroeder Hill, on the Swanson farm, rural Cavalier County, North Dakota]

Although he had enjoyed good health, he had been the victim of several accidents, runaways and once losing all his wares when his horses stepped off a bridge crossing a flooded area.

While all his material possessions could be contained in his wagon, he stated his wealth was immeasurable. His unfailing health permitted him to be amid the beauties of nature, the joy of music and most of all - the hundreds of friends he had acquired while living in this country.

Eventually he retired to Canada where he expected to enter a nursing home among relatives. He passed away in February 1989 at age 97.

Six Shots in the Night

Huron City (1883 Plat Map) Source:  HistoricMapWorks.com

I've written about Huron City a few times here before; and of course Charles Walker wrote about it, making it come alive, in his books Sheriff Charley Brown, and Bordertowns.  This time, I'm sharing another essay about it written by Jim Benjaminson, that was recently featured in the Pembina Historical Society newsletter.

Huron City is long gone now, but once it was a lively conclave nestled along the border...
_______________

Since the earliest days of settlement in what would become Pembina County, many little communities sprang up over the years, many have totally disappeared. Communities such as Hyde Park, Bruce, and Tyner have all but disappeared – leaving behind only the graveyards holding the remains of those early pioneers. Other communities such as Svold, Hallson and Leyden still have a presence, if you know where to look.

During the course of the past years, I’ve given several presentations and each time I’ve asked those in attendance, “Do you know where Huron City was?” Only one person – Ken Gardner – ever raised his hand to reply in the affirmative. Although most of its history has been lost to time, Huron City played a role in Pembina County’s history – most of it, not for the better.

Huron City, Pembina County, Dakota Territory, was located in the extreme northeast corner of the county tucked against the International Boundary to the north, adjoining the Hudson’s Bay company town of West Lynn and the Red River to the east, about two miles north of Pembina.

Newspaper ad for the Half Way House hotel in Huron City

Located on property owned by James H. White, the town-site of Huron City was platted prior to a public auction held September 4, 1879. Advertisements promoting the land sale touted the fact Huron City would be the “terminus of the St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Manitoba Railroad and the Manitoba Southern Railroad”, as well as being located on the main wagon road from Winnipeg where a new “International Bridge” would be built, connecting the two railroads.

The fledgling city already boasted Jim White’s saloon. The saloon was unique in that the building actually straddled the border – a red line painted on the floor indicated whether you were on the Canadian side of the border or the U.S. It was here that a Texas train robber was employed as a bartender – an outlaw who would die in a shoot-out in the Pembina post office in November of 1878 while resisting arrest by a deputy U.S. Marshal, who also died as a result of the affair.

White offered “100 business and residential lots – with no use restrictions”. Sale terms included cash payment of 10% of the sale price the day of the sale, with an additional 40% due within one week. The remaining balance could be paid off within one year at “normal rates”. Paying cash for the entire amount the day of the sale got the buyer a 10% discount. The Pembina Pioneer reported sales were good.

Closeup of Huron City platted streets; note 'Wharf St' in NE part of map...

Unlike many of the previously mentioned neighborhood communities, Huron City was platted into lots and streets – Anna Street, Elizabeth Street, Matheson Street, Huron Street and May Street running at an angle (southwest to northeast) with cross streets of First Street, 2nd Street, Third, Fourth and Fifth Streets (only 2nd street was marked with a numerical number, others were spelled out in full) and Wharf Street – leading to the river and presumably a river boat landing.

Article in the October 20, 1892
edition of the Winnipeg Tribune

In addition to White’s saloon, Dan Rogers was the proprietor of the International Hotel, which along with an attached residence, burned to the ground September 4, 1885. For the “sporting crowd”, there were also two houses of ill-repute, one run by Pearl Gould, the other by Nellie Dunn¹. Both establishments closed their doors after an incident the night of October 19, 1892 when a party of men from Emerson attempted to enter Pearl Gould’s but were refused entry. Pearl and her “soiled doves” retreated to the safety of Nellie’s, where the same parties were also refused entry. During the ensuing fracas, an Emerson hotel keeper named John Wagner was shot and killed.

Nellie Dunn was arrested and brought before a Grand Jury at Pembina. Although there was some question as to whether Nellie had actually fired the fatal shot, the jury determined Wagner’s death was justifiable homicide due to threats he had made to harm Nellie. Following the not guilty verdict, Nellie, Pearl and the other “ladies of the evening” were advised it might be advisable for them to return to Canada. Local papers remarked that the Gould name was “more than familiar” to law enforcement in Pembina County.

Although little more is known about Huron City, it remains a unique experiment is establishing a thriving community. Within a few square miles of land encompassing what is now North Dakota, Minnesota, and Manitoba, seven communities were established - Pembina, Huron City, West Lynn, Emerson, St. Vincent, Noyes, and Interapolis. Six had established residences and businesses; five still exist.

Interapolis, Minnesota, which would have been directly across the Red River from Huron City, never materialized. Huron City, Pembina County, Dakota Territory is unique in that it was documented in Pembina County Atlas’ as late as 1909, long after it had faded away to nothing more than a fleeting memory.

¹ - A sidelight to the Nellie Dunn story. After she was "invited" to leave the U.S., she ended up in Spokane, Washington, in February 1893; still plying her trade, where she "shot and killed her boyfriend". The locals weren't as understanding as Pembina -- they took Nellie out and lynched her.

UPDATE 13 August 2020:  From fellow local historian and author, Jim Benjaminson, "...the story I did on Huron City - about Nellie Dunn being hung in Spokane, Washington is false. Nellie 'removed' to Winnipeg after the affair in Huron City and continued to work as a prostitute. The story of her hanging came from an eastern Canadian newspaper...I found Winnipeg papers that made mention of her after the date of the supposed hanging."

Followup to GUESS WHO story

We can now confirm that the Guess Who played many times in Hallock, and we have it from the great Donny Hunt, who was a musician in his own right. Don was a music promoter who booked the Guess Who.

From a Facebook exchange...

Before Who: Deverons (1962) 

Michael Rustad: Donald, finally I have a chance to thank you for all of the ways you made growing up in Kittson County wonderful in the 1960's. What I remember is how lively and fun it was to be a teenager because of the dances you organized in Hallock. You were definitely formative for all of us and we all owe you a big debt! Thinking back, is it true that we had top bands from Winnipeg at the City Hall? Do you have any memory of whether the Guess Who played at Hallock? It is a memory I have but I may be wrong. Only you can confirm. We would love to have any information on the bands you organized! 

Donald Hunt: Thank you.  That makes those memories sweeter. Yes, they played there many times. And the Question Mark, the Mysterians, Shadows of Night, The Uglies...and many others. We did have fun. Jack Reese and I have been playing a little of the old Sabers and Ravalons music for fun. Maybe one more time next summer. It's good to hear from you.  

Early Guess Who (1966)

Michael Rustad: Don, glad to hear that you and Jack continue to rock on. It was amazing to have the Guess Who and those other groups you mentioned. My memory is that every dance was packed! I would also come home from college because your dances were superior to any promoter in Grand Forks. Rock on Don!

Mansion on the Prairie

[Courtesy:  Kittson County History Center & Museum]

At the Zenith of its production years, the early elevated view seen above of the mansion and surrounding farm buildings - taken from the top of the farm's nearby grain elevator - comprised the 'Northcote Division' of the Humboldt bonanza farm.  At its height, J.J. Hill owned over 45,000 acres of Kittson County farm land, and had over half of it under cultivation at any given time. 

Elevated view looking over Northcote, Minn. bonanza farm.  Visible is a
large two-story brick house with hip roof, several barns, and a water tower.
[Source: Institute for Regional Studies, NDSU, Fargo, ND (2023.42.11)]

Swathing & Bundling during harvest, at the Hill Farm
[Source:  Minnesota Historical Society]

Hill's personal train, often used to travel to Northcote farm
[Source:  Minnesota Historical Society]

Until I track down interior photos of the Walter Hill home (hopefully in its prime, before modifications), my old school friend Dee Dee Giffen Bakken has graciously agreed to share her memories of inside the mansion:

I cleaned for Marva and Byron Hanson who owned the house [until 2004]. 

The front of the house as you come to it from the road is actually the back of the house. When Walter Hill lived there the road came to what is now the back close to the river and came around in a circular drive. That face of the house is the grand entrance with a fancy little roofed porch. 

You enter into an entry with the staircase facing going upstairs. to your left is the great room with a fireplace, a very large room. Behind that is a porch which was open in Walter's day but is now enclosed. To the north of it is an office and bathroom. To your right of the entrance is the dining room with a beautiful chandelier and wood paneling. 

Almost all of the woodwork in the house has unfortunately been painted as Marva told me there were many different varieties of wood used on the doors, paneling, trim and so on. I don't think the paneling in the dining room is painted, but don't remember for sure. 

Beyond the dining room to the east is a sun room which overlooks where the pool was. Going north from the dining room is a huge kitchen which in Walter's day was sectioned off with part of it being the butler's pantry where the food was prepared for serving. It is now a homey big kitchen with a table. 

To the west of the kitchen is an entry where guests come in now with beautiful old tile floors. The entry also has a door going to the hallway which leads to the bathroom, and an office to the north of the great room with some built in closets. The kitchen is now linoleum.  I don't know what it was before [possible wood flooring originally]. In the kitchen as well is a door that leads to a staircase upstairs; this was once a servant's staircase that now leads to a small sewing room and bathroom. Originally, this would have been a servant's bedroom. 

As you go up the grand staircase to the upstairs, you come to a landing which goes to your left then rises to the top floor. As you go to your left you can go northeast which goes  to the servants bedroom. Direct left is the master bedroom with a beautiful fireplace with tiles from either Belgium or Italy. Off this room to the east is a sun porch.  To the north is a huge walk-in closet. To the west is the master bath with a shower made of marble. It is walk-in and huge. There is a tub the size of a Buick and old fashioned toilet and pedestal sinks. The floor is white octagon tile. 

To the right of the staircase is a den or possible bedroom. I think it may have been the library. Down the hall at the end is a woman's bedroom with a fireplace with blue tiles of sailing ships (I think) that came again from either Belgium or Italy. I believe the library had a fireplace too. It's a large room with a walk-in closet. A door to the north leads to a sun porch that is shared by another large bedroom that has a huge bathroom that is attached to it. Again, there is a Buick sized tub and old sinks and white tiles. 

I don't remember how you get up to the attic from the upstairs, it's been a long time. But I was up there a few times and it is as big as the house. Marva told me the boys in Walter's family slept up there and there is a big space in the middle that they held dances in I think. There is a huge basement where they have a pool table from the old pool hall in Hallock here. (Of course I forget the name but I think it was Blado's Billards & Restaurant. It was in the basement of a building near where our business is today.) 

The window wells for the basement have squares of amethyst. Sadly, many people have chipped pieces out for souvenirs over the years. 

Marva's son Marvin was a Minnesota state senator.  In conjunction with his political activities, they held parties at the mansion; even Hubert Humphrey was once there for an event.

NOTE:  The Hanson family moved to the Hill farm in 1967 and their grand daughter Kate lives there part-time, to this day. Check here for more photographs and information about the farm itself...

The amethyst glass blocks are still over the basement window wells
at the Northcote Hill Mansion to this day, a very innovative design

A brief overview of the farm the mansion was part of:

The J.J. Hill Mansion was really Walter Hill's mansion (J.J.'s son) although J.J. Hill probably financed it. Northcote Hill farm was a subdivision off of the Humboldt Farm or Humboldt Division (subdivided in 1910). Before that, it was part of Humboldt Farm.

There is a dam on the Two Rivers, west of the house, downriver. It is small and old, and beginning to fall apart, but still working. By it on the north bank is a falling-down brick building, possibly a mill house.

Over the basement windows were coverings of concrete and glass with a brass sign labeling it as made by the American Luxfer Prism Co (Boston, New York, & Chicago)

UPDATE 10/5/2019:

Found in an old issue of a regional small press paper, "Our Northwest Corner"
recently, is the only interior photograph of the Northcote J.J. Hill mansion...

Recently discovered by collector Brandon Lee Legvold, this 1909 RPPC
shows what appears to be the same image as the one from NDSU shown
at the top of this post, although more complete and it has more clarity. 
Still not a perfect copy, but definitely better!  

Saloon Manslaughter: The Rest of the Story

It all started with a trade:  One hat, for one bottle of whiskey...

If there's one thing I've learned writing this blog, it's that history often reveals itself slowly, despite doing what you feel at the time is due diligence researching a subject.  New records become available that were not present the first time around. People come forward with information only they were privy to.  Etc.

Such is the case concerning a particular murder that occurred in St. Vincent in 1899.  The new records came in the form of old newspaper accounts now available through the Library of Congress.  The new information came from an old friend of this site, Jim Benjaminson, of the Pembina County Historical Society.

When you read the accounts below - along with the links to earlier posts on this subject - you will get something very rare for local history of a small town nature:  As complete a picture about the subject as could be expected.  A rare treat, indeed...
_______________

George Bates Murdered While Intoxicated

Wednesday morning (March 8, 1899) the news went mouth to mouth that George Bates had been found dead in his house. The details as they began to develop were highly sensational. Mr. Bates was addicted to excessive drinking. When under the influence of liquor he was apt to quarrel with his family. On Wednesday afternoon he had trouble of this kind. Later, he went to St. Vincent. What happened there is still somewhat contradictory at this writing. 

Wednesday morning, Mrs. George Bates came downstairs and found her husband lying on the floor with every evidence of having been severely pounded. She hastily summoned Register of Deeds Chisholm from the office nearby and upon examination it was found that Bates was dead. He had a hole in his skull near the right temple from the effects of a blow of some kind and his face was badly bruised and had been bleeding profusely. As nearly as the facts can be gotten at they are as follows: