The History of the St. Vincent Weather Station: 1880-1892

The St. Vincent weather station was established by the War Department circa 1880.  During the period of 1880 to July 1891, it was under the Office of the Chief Signal Officer, Division of Telegrams and Reports for the Benefit of Commerce and Agriculture. 

St. Vincent was one of the three stations that were instrumental in reporting conditions on June 16, 1887, the day a major tornado hit Grand Forks, ND/East Grand Forks, MN - “Reshaping the Tornado Belt”  

Beginning in July 1891, weather services were established under the new Weather Bureau, and taken from the War Department and becoming part of the Department of Agriculture. St. Vincent remained an active weather station within the Weather Bureau until around 1940. 

Initially, the St. Vincent Signal Station, under the U.S. Army, was manned by soldiers from Fort Pembina.  From 1891 forward, civilian federal employees under the Department of Agriculture took over.  Many observers worked in St. Vincent over the years - men with last names of Day, Frank, Baldwin, Cobb, and Ellis - among others.   

St. Vincent Signal Station daily barometric pressure, temperature, and wind speed readings, for September 1885.

[Click to enlarge and more easily read…]

Cover of July 1885 monthly report, for St. Vincent, Minn. Signal Station.

[Click to enlarge and more easily read…]

April 1885 Monthly Meteorological Report for St. Vincent, Minn. Signal Station.

Sources:

National Archives [War Department. Office of the Chief Signal Officer. Division of Telegrams and Reports for the Benefit of Commerce and Agriculture. St. Vincent (Minnesota) Weather Station. (Ca. 1883-07/01/1891)]

Water Cooler II

In this edition of the "Water Cooler", St. Vincent natives recall the simple pleasures of curling and ice skating.

I am younger than those in the conversation, but even I remember the curling rink when it *was* a curling rink (the building still exists), as well as the outdoor rink at Pembina. I even remember trying to go down those "creepy" steps once, as a 6-year old little girl. By then, the steps were getting a bit rickety, as well as being very steep; I chickened out! But I recall seeing others skating on it, especially at night with the string of bulbs that seemed to float above the ice. The rink was down a steep embankment, right alongside the Pembina River.

When the 1966 flood came, it was the end of the rink forever...

St. Vincent Curling Rink

Tess Dissmore THERE WAS A CURLING RINK IN ST.VINCENT ACROSS FROM THE GARDINERS. WE USED TO WATCH THEM PLAY , MY BROTHER -IN-LAW MANUEL GOOSELAW WAS PLAYING THERE ONE NITE AND THRU THE ROCK AND DIED OF A MASSIVE HEART ATTACK. , HE WAS MARRIED TO LEONA CAMPEAU. I BELIEVE IT WAS 1959 OR 60.

Ginny Grumbo-Mcallister Eva and Frank Gardiner were my aunt and uncle Dave Geddes In the late 1920.s when I learned to skate Pembina did not have a indoor rink.

Dorothy Barber Ted Ryan used to skate on a small rink that someone made sort of under - to the north - of the Pembina bridge.

Tess Dissmore WELL I WAS AROUND TILL 1957 AND WE ALWAYS WENT TO PEMBINA TO SKATE AND I DO REMEMBER TED RYAN.  SOMETIMES WE WALKED AND SOMETIME WE GOT A RIDE BUT IF WE HAD TO WALK HOME WE HAD A LONG TREK, IT SEEMED, BUT WAS SCARY TO GO OVER THE OLD BRIDGE. MANY GREAT MEMORIES SKATING ON OPEN RINK BY PEMBINA BRIDGE. TED RYAN, I REMEMBER HE WOULD THROW HIS HAT ON THE ICE AND HE HAD LONG BLADES ON HIS SKATES AND HE WAS A VERY GOOD SKATER AND WOULD COME AROUND FAST AND PICK UP HIS HAT W/ HIS SKATE. WE HAD A SHOW FOR US...ENJOYED HIM.

Cleo Bee Jones I loved going into Pembina to skate at the rink, the last time I skated there was 1958! Memories, la da da da da da da da da

Trish Short Lewis No one alive now has memories of the 1897 INDOOR skating rink in Pembina, but it evidently once existed...

Tess Dissmore THERE WAS A SKATING RINK IN ST. VINCENT RIGHT NEXT TO THE CURLING RINK, BUT I JUST DON'T REMEMBER SKATING THERE A LOT; JUST DON'T KNOW WHY NOT?

Donald Reese I remember the curling rinks, but not the Skating rink, the curling rink had wooden bleachers up on one end so you could watch them curl, and of course the brooms were different then. those old curlers could really make those old broom whisk. [Note:  In the early 1960s, I once sat on those bleachers myself.  It was towards the end of the building's use as a curling rink, and I was there to watch my grandfather play one of his last games...]

Delphine Mundorf yup those old brooms were like the old straw brooms we use to have. Watched grandpa use one in Bemidji in a tournament. He also threw the stone at different Times.

Betty Jeanne Short Thorsvig Sharon and I used to skate A LOT on the Pembina rink. She was a better skater than I. My memories of the Pembina Skating Rink are: how cool it was way below the city, made on an open plain above the river. When you entered to go down the creepy (steep) stairs off the main street, there was like a hundred wooden steps to even get down to it. They would play music. There was a wooden shack where you could borrow skates if you didn't have any. Wooden benches to sit and put on your skates and a stove to keep you warm. I also remember skating on Lake Stella and also Dad would clean off a spot for us on our land where was a pond. I LOVED winter as a kid!! Wish someone would have pictures far and near of that rink.

The Border

The little border town of Emerson, Manitoba, was a surreal place to be in April 1997.  Behind the permanent dike that had been doubled in height with the addition of a temporary structure of plywood and sandbags, Emerson was a dry island in the vast sea of the Red River, which had burst its banks.  All the inhabitants, with the exception of a few who had been left behind to fight the flood, had been evacuated.  The electric power still worked, so that at night the island of Emerson was ablaze in a strange white light.  Deer and hares and other smaller animals had gravitated to the town to escape the ice cold waters of the raging river.  They stood, frightened sentinels, in the white light of the ghost town. 

A remarkable crew made up of town employees, a detachment of troops from the Canadian Forces and local Mounties kept the town of Emerson itself dry and secure.  As the river rose to a critical level in late April, with no firm prediction on how high it would get, the struggle to maintain the wall around the town was in deadly earnest.  Coordinated out of the Emerson Town Hall, the beleaguered warriors filled sandbags and directed them to potential weak points on the perimeter.  So close is Emerson to the U.S. border, that a portion of the dike actually crossed into the small neighboring community of Noyes, Minnesota, protecting a U.S. Customs office and several nearby homes on U.S. soil.  As residents noted at the time, what they were calling the "Red Sea" did not make distinctions between one side of the border and the other.

[The writer returns five years later, and talks to survivors in both Emerson and Pembina of their ordeal during the 1997 flood, then goes to the border to travel to Grand Forks to interview survivors there...]

In the large new Canada Customs post at the border- built since the flood of '97 - I meet two tall, muscular customs officers who have recollections of the mayhem...When asked about the purpose of my trip to North Dakota by a U.S. Customs official with grey hair, I tell him I am going to Grand Forks to talk to people on the fifth anniversary of the flood of '97.  Not bothering to ask me for ID, he comments sardonically, "Why not go to Pembina?  They know at least as much about the flood as anyone in Grand Forks." 

I follow his advice and drive into the little town of Pembina, two minutes south of the border.  The town had been British territory before it was handed over the U.S. with the adoption of the forty-ninth parallel as the border across the Prairies in 1818.  On the east side of Pembina, there is a high earthen dike to protect the town from the Red River.  It is the same on the other side of the river in the tiny hamlet of St. Vincent Minnesota.  This April the Red is tame, but the dike is there for protection against future floods. 

On the main street of Pembina, I find an old preacher and his young disciple out trying to win converts.  I ask them if they were in town for the great flood of '97.  In reply, the old man hands me a pocket-sized pamphlet titled, "A Preacher of the Old School."  In our conversation, Mr. W. Seed and I are at cross-purposes.  He is trying to save my soul from a flood of biblical proportions while I am in search of memories of a mere earthly flood.  I manager to get Mr. Seed onto my line of inquiry, and he tells me of the long series of floods that have afflicted this community - in 1897, 1950, 1966, and 1979.  In 1997, he says, the dike held and the town was saved.

From:  The Border: Canada, the US and Dispatches From the 49th Parallel

Red River Derby Revisited

There had never been a race like this before.

At the time it was run, it was the longest dog sled race in history. 

There was media coverage from all over the world. 

The course ran from Winnipeg to St. Paul, and came right past Emerson, Pembina, and St. Vincent, before veering slightly west and then again south towards Hamilton and beyond...

Profile: A.H. Anderson

Who was the man who photographed the 1897 Red River flood in St. Vincent?  The man who took the famous "High Water" series photographs?

His name was Andrew H. Anderson.

He was a farmer who happened to have an eye for photography. He apprenticed in Fergus Falls, Fosston, and Grand Forks before he began a photography business in Hallock in the1890s. 

He eventually sold his interest in his photography business to then partner William Hartvig so he could focus on farming.  But he returned to photography when he bought the studio of G. G. Shaker in Hallock in 1936.  

Born in 1867, he lived a long life in our area, passing away in 1960.  He chronicled many events and families in Kittson County!

An Arduous Journey

I've been reading this book about Enos Stutsman titled Attorney for the Frontier. Ever since I came across "Stuts", as his contemporary friends called him, I've been fascinated by the man.  To my knowledge,  Attorney for the Frontier is the only book ever written about him, and it includes an entire chapter about his time in Pembina, his last home base.

Below is a letter he wrote to his supervisors.  As a past federal government employee myself, I am well-acquainted with the paperwork involved whenever you go away from the office.  Reports must be filed!  Read below on what this particular early government employee went through just to get from Point A to Point B; you'll note he has a pretty wry sense of humor, which I guess you had to have when encountering such difficulties.  All in all, if you take the time, you'll discover it's quite illuminating, and an enjoyable read...

Guest Essay: Harvest Memories

Alfred "Rusty" Rustad with the family's 'new' combine 
[Photo Courtesy:  Rustad Family Collection]

By Michael Rustad

As a child growing up in Northwest Minnesota, I remember that all of the town's activities centered around the harvest in late August, early September. Football practice often had to be scheduled in the wee hours of the morning to accommodate harvest season. My grandfather, Alfred Hagbart Sr. and my father, Rustee, farmed our quarter section and rented another quarter section of land from Bob Shantz. We were a rather primitive operation. Attempt the impossible. Achieve the possible. And, that was not easy in Minnesota.

Today:  The '35 Chevy truck awaits restoration 
[Photo Courtesy:  Rustad Family Collection]

Our farming operation did not have air-conditioned cabs and stereo systems incorporated in the combines. We had a 1935 Chevy truck that was started with a crank. It was an extremely difficult gear shift and several of the gears were stripped or in bad condition. The truck ran well because of my Dad's ability to over-haul the ancient engine. Our combine was a 1942 left-handed Allis-Chalmers combine. I could never get a clear understanding of why the combine was left-handed. One of the consequences was that the initial rows of fallen grain had to be moved by hand to enter the field. What idiot invented a left-handed combine? We had the only left-handed combine. This required my brother and I to move the rows, so the combine would not run over the fallen wheat and lost! This was my job. My grandmother Rustad often drove the truck and I often kept her company.

It was during the harvest that I developed severe breathing problems from the intense dust. The truck front-side windows were both broken so they would not roll up all the way. There was no way to prevent a cloud of dust from entering the truck. It was quite an unpleasant experience. I later learned that farmer's lung, the equivalent of asbestosis, killed many farmers. By the way, the grim reapers (as the lawyers called them), were dangerous too. There were unprotected and unguarded moving machinery ready to take off your favorite arm or leg. My friend, John Hunt, fell from a tractor and a plow shear created an injury. He plowed up a nest of hornets and fell off while fending off the hornets. He recovered but nearly lost his life. My next door neighbor Diane was also run over by a tractor and fortunately was not seriously harmed.

The truck loads of grain were generally augured into the grainery directly. I did not comprehend how dangerous these unguarded augers were until reading accounts of farm accidents later while studying product liability law. There were no warnings of the dangers of unguarded augers. The farmers of that area presumed that any damn fool did not go near the auger. Yet, year after year, the toll of farm accidents marched on.

I did not enjoy the harvest period very much as it was a period of high tension and excruciating long hours of work which largely fell on my Dad's shoulders. He would work a full day at the Post Office and rush home to work in the fields. I was not a gifted farm boy when it came to mechanics, machinery repair etc. I remember trying to help my Dad get the combine in shape for an upcoming harvest and negligently left a wrench inside. When the combine started the wrench broke every slat and caused us to lose a few day's time, which is precious during harvest. My Father was infinitely patient but was not pleased with me. But, he never again asked me to crawl into the inner bowels of the combine.

One of the family's old tractors is slowly being grown over now
[Photo Courtesy:  Rustad Family Collection]

Lunches in the field had to be grabbed on the run. I remember my Dad eating corn on the cob while driving the combine. He somehow managed to eat a half dozen ears of corn in the course of a lunch in the field and he simultaneously continued to operate the combine. He had a rotary motion when he ate the corn and never dropped an ear.

Gallons of coffee were consumed by the harvesting crew. My grandfather Rustad was a legendary coffee drinker and I remember him draining near a 1/2 gallon of coffee out of the jar in the field. That amount of coffee would have stopped the heart of most Americans, but he was a Norwegian-American.

I was always relieved by the end of harvest. I cannot recall many good harvests. It seemed like something came to ruin the harvest every year. There was "rust" that infected the wheat, hail, or too much or too little rain. My experience with farming convinced me to pay attention to my studies so I would never again choke from harvest dust.

I often wondered why some of the smaller farmers continued to farm long after it was [not that] profitable. I think that I finally understand why decades later. I believe that there must be something inherently satisfying about being your own boss and looking forward to a better crop next year.It is like being a Red Sox fan. Maybe, next year the Red Sox will win the World Series. However, there is always some natural disaster preventing success in the next year. In the days before corporate farming, there were many farms like the Rustad family farm. This meant that the towns of the Red River Valley were populated by young families with dreams of a better harvest next year. Today our land is out of the family and owned by one of the "big" operators. I knew from an early age that I needed an escape plan from the Great Northwest. When I left that area, I thought it looked best in the rear view mirror. Decades later, I seldom go back to the Great Northwest, Minnesota. Nevertheless, I acknowledge that it helped me develop my character and personality---and work ethic.

The combine in later years...
[Photo Courtesy:  Rustad Family Collection]

Tales of the St. Vincent Signal Station

A typical signal station setup in the 1880s

There were many brutal winters in the 19th century up around my hometown area.  Some were before official record keeping, others after.  All were documented in one way or another.

The winter of 1887-1888 was one of the hard ones.  The quotes below are from an article written from a meteorological point of view, and contains some fascinating details of temperature and snowfall as recorded by the St. Vincent Signal Service station¹.  Quotes chosen are mainly about the temperatures recorded in St. Vincent over that winter, but they also refer to a notorious blizzard that occurred in January 1888.

And we think we have hard winters now!

March 1941 Blizzard Revisited

Coverage of 1941 Blizzard in Minnesota & North Dakota
[WILMINGTON MORNING STAR, North Carolina, March 17, 1941]

Last year I wrote about the 'Ides of March' blizzard of 1941, sharing a story that a reader of this blog sent me of his memories of that event.

Now, in the course of my new job, a patron shared with me that a book had been written about the blizzard.  In the book, there are several references to local/regional stories of people touched by that storm, including the following two stories...

First United Stated Dragoons

In the early part of the 19th century, what would later be commonly referred to as the U.S. Cavalry, were known as the U.S. Dragoons.

In 1849, the First United States Dragoons would play a part in our area. According to an introduction to first-hand accounts documented in the book, "Minnesota as Seen By Travellers"...

...Too frequently reports of exploring expeditions are written only by the leaders...It is interesting, therefore, to get an intimate account of one of these expeditions as it appeared to an underling. The writer was a member, very probably a sergeant, of Company D, First United States Dragoons.

The writer had an appealing writing style, with much dry wit and not a little sense of humour; nothing much has changed since that time either, since he often mentioned... mosquitoes! In fact, he wrote:

"Poor hungry things! How would they have been saved from starvation, but for this expedition of ours to the North?"

This recollection is too good simply to refer to, quote from, or even serialize in entire.  Instead I bring to you in-whole, the writings of a Sergeant from Company D, describing their coming up from Fort Snelling to the Pembina/St. Vincent area to survey and establish the U.S. Boundary. I have a hunch you'll find it as fascinating as I have.

Please note that inconsistencies in spelling are from the original, and are left intact on purpose so you can experience how people wrote at this time.  It does not necessarily reflect inferior education, but rather was more common among all levels of society and rank during this time period; in general, English has been and continues to be a rather fluid and fascinating language...but that is a topic for another time!

Also, the spring/summer of 1849 was an unusually cold and wet time period - be aware of these extraordinary conditions as you read this account.

And now, "Canteen Sketches", by an unknown soldier of the ranks...

Oh, Canada!

There are many humorous stories circulating online, but only a few that I find truly amusing. I received such a one this morning from my friend James McClelland from Emerson, Manitoba, entitled "Oh, Canada!"

While humor is not the normal domain of this blog, I am making an exception in this case and sharing some of the piece with you since it's geographically-related and specific. Anyone from my hometown area, or further north, will appreciate it, and those that are not, will learn a thing or two...

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN MANITOBA

1. You wake up one morning to find that you suddenly have a beachfront property.
2. Hundreds of huge, horribly frigid lakes.
3. Nothing compares to a wicked Winnipeg winter.
4. You can be an Easterner or a Westerner depending on your mood.
5. You can pass the time watching trucks and barns float by.

The Official Canadian Temperature Conversion Chart

50° Fahrenheit (10° C)
• Californians shiver uncontrollably.
• Canadians plant gardens.

35° Fahrenheit (1.6° C)
• Italian Cars won't start
• Canadians drive with the windows down

32° Fahrenheit (0° C)
• American water freezes
• Canadian water gets thicker.

0° Fahrenheit (-17.9° C)
• New York City landlords finally turn on the heat.
• Canadians have the last cookout of the season.

-60° Fahrenheit (-51° C)
• Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
• Canadian Girl Guides sell cookies door-to-door.

-109.9° Fahrenheit (-78.5° C)
• Carbon dioxide freezes makes dry ice.
• Canadians pull down their earflaps.

-173° Fahrenheit (-114° C)
• Ethyl alcohol freezes.
• Canadians get frustrated when they can't thaw the keg

-459.67° Fahrenheit (-273.15° C)
• Absolute zero; all atomic motion stops.
• Canadians start saying "cold, eh?"

-500° Fahrenheit (-295° C)
• Hell freezes over.
• The Ottawa Senators win the Stanley Cup

Past News: Tornado

Tornado over Hallock Fairgrounds, July 9, 1995 

[Photo by Glenn Browne]

Aftermath: Grandstand roof destroyed, but no one was hurt 

[Photo by Glenn Browne]

BORDERTOWNS: Chapter 18

The heavy rains of early September did nothing to stop the wild prairie fires of October. A constant blue haze filled the sky for the first half of the month. Burning peat bogs in Minnesota also added to their discomfort whenever the wind switched to the southeast. The odor of burning grass, so noticeable at first, became almost acceptable. Lightning was blamed for some fires; but Indians, who, after selling their land at the l863 treaty time, refused to relinquish possession, had purposely set most. All Indians and breeds signing the treaty had been awarded land scrip for 160 acres of farmland, but most had sold the paper for instant cash or booze.

Word of mouth carried the news to St. Vincent that Annie Douglas had given birth to a daughter on October 15. Mary had put aside her feelings of Annie's treachery and Robert's unfaithfulness and discussed the birth in a matter-of-fact way with her mother. They decided to send a layette for the child. No card of thanks arrived from Annie, but none was expected. Mary didn't mind and confided to her mother, "I'm not envious of Annie. If I were, people would think I'm jealous."

The St. Paul & Pacific Railroad announced that the first through train from St. Paul to Winnipeg would pass through Emerson on November 11. Patrick had become incensed about the stories and rumors being circulated, and expressed his thoughts at the supper table.

"Under their contract, the builders on the Canadian side of the line don't have to turn the tracks over to the C. P. R. for another year. Sure, they're opening it early this winter, but for their own profit. You can bet they'll charge an arm and leg. It's no secret that the Hudson's Bay Company, Norman Kittson and Jim Hill own all of the riverboats and have been charging exorbitant prices for freight and passengers -- and the Bay gets a one-third discount. Now it'll be the same with Hill's railroad," he added. "I've already heard that no farmer will be able to rent a boxcar. That leaves only a few grain buyers, either working for, or in cahoots with the St.Paul and Pacific owners.

"I've heard there's only one water tank along the entire 65 miles to Winnipeg," Jerold offered. "Also, the telegraph line hasn’t been completed and there is no turn-around in Winnipeg. Will they have to back the train all the way from Winnipeg to the St. Vincent Y?"

"You bet! There are no sidings or repair shops either, and they've not planned ahead for wood cutters. The wood-burning engines will need plenty of wood and the only timber near the track is scrub poplar." He added grimly, "They'll soon find there's little heat in those trees, even when dry.

"On the plus side for them, it will give the C.P.R. and the St. P. & P. a monopoly on the Winnipeg trade for years to come," said Patrick. "Emerson has grown to 1400 souls and now has two newspapers. It's the gateway to central Canada, but what will happen when the C.P.R. completes its line into Winnipeg from the east, across the Canadian Shield?" He hesitated, then added, "I guess our border here will always be busy; it's a natural entry to the agricultural belt of Canada. But I'm afraid we'll find rate fixing prevalent. Farm machinery prices in Canada will remain high, for the flow will come from Ontario and Quebec. Those eastern manufacturers are protected by the Canadian tariffs on imports."

Because of the constant difficulties and delays experienced by the C.P.R. contractor, Jim Hill, impatient to get the road in operation, loaned the Canadian builder an engine, several flat cars and a pre-built bridge. For this he was assured completion of the C.P.R. section before November 11.

Excitement began to build as the completion deadline grew near. Officials from Emerson ordered flags and bunting. Hill's publicity director assured all that the engine and cars making the first run on November 11 would be highly decorated. It was decided that the final ceremonial spike would be driven at Roseau Crossing, the keynote speaker to be the United States Consul, James Wickes Taylor. ¹

The following Sunday morning Kirby arrived to escort Mary to the fort. She had expressed an interest, saying, "If I'm marrying into the Army, I might as well find out what it's going to entail." He arrived with a buggy just as Patrick, Maggy and the boys were preparing to leave for church.

"Want to come along with us, Kirby?" Jerold was teasing, knowing of their plans.

"Not today. I'm in the process of training a future Army wife. We're headed for the fort." He looked confident.

Mary waved to her family as Kirby assisted her step into the buggy. She planned to initiate a heart-to-heart talk with Kirby, wanting to know more about his family and ambitions. She knew he was everything she wanted in a man: he was vibrant, strong, yet tender, humorous and warm. When they married, she knew she would have to make major adjustments to her thinking and way of life.

The Indian summer had carried into late October, delaying the cold weather and giving a false sense of a mild winter to come.

Passing through the village, they prudently sat apart. That ended after they crossed the river on the ferry, then Mary moved close to Kirby, shivering with pleasure as she felt his arm close tightly around her waist. Troubling thoughts came, and she worried about telling him what had happened to her in Orillia. She decided she must be honest. "Kirby, I've got a lot to talk over with you."

"We've the whole day to talk, let's just enjoy this wonderful day." He turned to her, "I hope Army life won't be too hard on you."

Entering the north gate of the fort, he guided the horse to the officer's quarters. Dismounting, he took Mary's hand to aid her step from the buggy. "This is the door to my quarters. We'd better leave the front door open for propriety." He smiled, and then leaned to whisper, "We're probably being watched from behind curtains. The Captain's wife knew I was bringing you out today."

Taking her hand, he led her into his quarters. Mary was surprised to see the parlor nearly bare, equipped only with a suite consisting of a black leather sofa and two leather-covered, stuffed chairs. It did have the customary fireplace she noted. The small sitting and dining rooms adjoining were similarly bare, having but a table and four well-worn oak chairs. There were no pictures on the walls, no curtains on the windows or rugs on the floor.

Kirby saw her look of disappointment. "It's not that bad, Mary; we can replace all this junk. The Army doesn't provide much for bachelor officers. When new furniture arrives, it stops with the top ranking officer, and then gravitates downward over the years." He idly gestured, "That's my kitchen. You can see I seldom use it – the officer's mess is handier. 'Sides that, I'm a lousy cook."

He was smiling as he added, "You'll want to see the bedrooms upstairs. My bed is a single iron cot, but we'll change that."

"Your quarters aren't like home, but they look clean." Kirby agreed. "I hate dirt. My rooms are probably the cleanest of all the bachelor quarters."

"How about your laundry?" Mary was getting an insight into the man she was to marry. She had noticed that he was meticulous in his dress and habits.

"I share an orderly with Shawn. He takes my soiled clothing to the laundry and makes my bed daily. Want to see the bedrooms?" He led the way up the stairs from the parlor.

Mary was satisfied with the two main bedrooms; both were roomy but had only half-sized windows. The third small bedroom had evidently been designed for children. She calculated fresh paint would brighten and make the rooms more livable.

Returning to the parlor, she sat on the sofa, dreading this moment, but Kirby must know the truth. "Kirby, please sit down. After you hear what I'm going to say, perhaps you won't want to marry me. It's not pleasant, but you must know." She hesitated, looking directly into his eyes.

He dropped to the sofa beside her, confused, thinking: What is she going to tell me? Is she going to admit to an affair with Robert?

"I was attacked and nearly raped when I was sixteen."

He caught his breath, "Where?"

"In Orillia, just before we moved here." She went on to describe the attack and her rescue by Ian, all the while fearing his rejection.

His arms went around her, drawing her close. "I knew something was wrong from the way you acted at times, but that's over and in the past. It's something to be forgotten. Never bring it up again. It's done." He reached to lift her chin and observed her tears. Slipping his hand behind her shoulders, he hugged her gently. He could feel the wetness on his cheek.

At that moment a distant bugle sounded. Releasing her, he stood and offered his hand. "That's mess call. Do you feel up to eating with Shawn and our other two lieutenants? I hope you'll not be disappointed with the food. I told the cook I was having company.

Mary wiped her eyes and smiled timidly. "I'm ready."

Shawn greeted Mary as an old friend and introduced her to the junior officers.

Mary made a half-hearted attempt to halt Shawn's introduction, then said, "Shawn, I met these gentlemen last winter at the Christmas Ball. In fact, I distinctly remember dancing with each of them."

When all were seated, an orderly brought a small wooden bucket containing two bottles of wine, encased in chipped ice. Kirby looked around the table. "What's the occasion?"

"We Virginians remember the finer things in life." Shawn replied paternally, "You Yankees are too practical."

"We'll drink to that!" Kirby smiled his thanks to Shawn.

Mary exclaimed over the superb dinner. She recognized dandelion greens among the tomatoes and eggs in the salad. The tender steaks were accompanied by butter fried, button mushrooms. She guessed they had been picked from the horse pasture along the river.

When the dinner was over and the junior officers returned to their duties, Kirby observed Mary conversing in a low tone with the orderly who was clearing the table. The man began to smile, obviously pleased.

Upon their return to Kirby's quarters, Mary noticed their buggy was missing. "Where's our rig, Kirby?"

"I suppose the Charge of Quarters felt sorry for the horse and took it to the corral to be watered. It'll be available when I return you home. Say, what did you whisper to our striker² that made him so happy?"

"I thanked him for his service and told him to express my compliments to the cook. I suspect you don't eat like this every day."

"That's a fact!" He smiled. "Hopefully, I'll eat well in the future after we're married." He teased, "You'll find the men doing plenty of favors for you. I'll have to keep a sharp eye."

She noticed that when they again entered his quarters, he left the door wide open. She realized the problem of propriety, but the open door was also admitting flies.

Searching for a way to encourage Kirby to speak of his past, Mary asked, "Kirby, where did you learn to dance? Do they teach that at the academy?"

"Heavens, no!" He began to laugh. "I have two wonderful sisters, Marlene, who is two years older than me, and Laura who is three years younger. We taught each other when we were kids. You'll like them and they'll love you. You'll get along famously with my Father and Mother, too."

He looked almost embarrassed. "I guess you could call our family well-off. Father and Mother each inherited from their families and then, too, Father has a successful business. Our home is quite large, but not overly ostentatious." He looked at her seriously. "Mother collects antiques, but recently my sisters write that she's now into paintings." He smiled. "I hope she knows what she's buying."

A knock sounded at the doorway and Mary observed a shadow by the entry. A voice followed. "May I come in?" Captain Collins stepped across the threshold.

"Greetings, Miss McLaren. I hear you two have made plans. Perhaps congratulations are in order."

Mary's smile turned into a blush.

Captain Collins turned to Kirby. "I have a message for you. It just came in on the telegraph." He looked at Kirby apologetically. "I hope it doesn't upset any arrangements you two are making."

Kirby thanked the captain as he left, then sat beside Mary and unfolded the paper. The sudden drawn, disappointed look on his face alarmed her. "What is it, Kirby? What's wrong?"

Stonily, he handed her the message. It was from Washington and addressed to 1st Lt. Kirby H. Ralston, O-11560. It read: Above named officer will report to C.O. Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, not later then 3 January, l879 for staff school. S/Brig. Gen. Meagher. C of S.

"How long does the school last, Kirby?"

"Cripes! It's somewhere between nine and twelve months." He sat quietly for some moments, and then he said, "As much as I wanted to go to this school, the orders have come at a mighty poor time."

"Our marriage can wait, Kirby. It's not forever."

"It is to me." He looked depressed. "You see, Mary, the Army discourages lieutenants from marrying. It isn't considered proper to marry until you reach the grade of captain. The thing is, it's necessary for me to attend this school to ever attain that rank. There are so many officers carried over since the war, and with the constant congressional cuts of the Army, many lieutenants will reach retirement age without ever making captain. He stood and said resignedly, "We'll have to figure something out. I sure hadn't planned on this, although I did mention the possibility."

Mary, thinking it wise to change the subject, stood and suggested, "Let's go see Bob Wilson before we leave. He runs your fort store, doesn't he? He's a friend of Father's and visits us occasionally."

"Sure, he's our sutler. He's located over by the laundry; it's only a short walk."

Bob's store was a large, single-storied building badly in need of whitewash and paint. Entering, Mary saw the building was well stocked with dry goods, hardware, and the necessities of frontier life. Bins of squared nails lay along the floor amid coils of rope. Denim trousers and flannel shirts were stacked on shelves. Adjoining shelves held lye soap and boxes of rifle and pistol shells. Several rifles and shotguns were racked along the wall and a few revolvers lay on a rear shelf, with a cord strung through the trigger guards to prevent pilfering. The odors of pickles, sauerkraut, linseed oil and kerosene were prevalent. Wilson heard them enter and appeared from a rear room.

"Welcome, Mary! Hello, Kirby! Looking for something?"

"I told Kirby I wanted to see your store. I've heard you and Father discussing it." Mary's eyes took in the medicines, harnesses and whips. "It looks like you carry a lot of goods."

Bob nodded. "My trade is mainly with the soldiers and Indians. My biggest sellers are flour, coal oil, sugar and whiskey." He smiled at the two, adding, "I'm only allowed to sell whiskey to the soldiers at certain hours, usually in the evenings. Indirectly, Captain Collins is my boss too." He lifted a box from behind the counter and began filling it with items from the shelves. "Take a look around. There are some Indian artifacts in the rear if you're interested. I get those items in trade occasionally."

Mary's curiosity was satisfied. "We're about to return to St. Vincent, Bob. I'll stop by again when I have more time." She noted the complete lack of fresh fruit and vegetables and determined to discuss it further with Kirby.

Wilson looked up and smiled. "Stop by anytime, Mary. You're always welcome here."

When outside, Mary suggested, "Let's get the buggy and take a drive; I'll fix us supper when we get back to St. Vincent.”

On their return there was little conversation until Kirby volunteered, "Perhaps things will work out so we can be married in April. As it stands, I'll have to live in the bachelor officer quarters at the school or find and pay for my own. We might be able to find a rental house in the town of Leavenworth. It's not a money problem because I've saved nearly all of my pay since graduating from the Academy. It's just that I'll have to attend the school as a single officer. A lieutenant just doesn't rate family quarters."

"Don't worry about it. Whatever happens, I'll be waiting for you. If you are transferred somewhere else after you graduate, I can join you. At least now that we know you're going to be tied up at school, I'll be able to take my teaching examination this coming spring."

"Would you rather we marry before I leave for the South?" Kirby looked at her hopefully.

"Please don't rush me, Kirby. You know I made up my mind not to marry until I'm eighteen. It's only a few months away and it sounds like I'm being difficult, but that's the way I want it. I love you and will marry you then."

"At least we'll have two months together before I leave. Maybe you'll change your mind."

She remembered her narrow escape from entanglement with Robert on that Christmas day, and smiled evasively. "No, not likely, I'm as strong-willed as my Mother."

Kirby knew he was pushing, but she didn't object to his hand caressing her waist. The fragrance of her hair and contact with her warm body intensified his interest and she seemed receptive; she squeezed closely to him.

The wind had strengthened as they approached the trees near the ferry. Gusts sent clusters of leaves whirling down and dappled spots of sunshine danced on the ground. Mary noticed that some branches were almost denuded, a sure sign of approaching winter. She realized this was as near as she had ever been to a disagreement with Kirby. He was a calm, quiet man, but firm on his views as to Army life. She knew she had no legitimate reason to protest his immediate desire for marriage.

¹ - ...Taylor became a promoter of the agricultural potential of the Hudson’s Bay Company territories. Through the St Paul Advertiser he familiarized the public with their resources and referred constantly to the relationship of that region to Minnesota. “Here is an object,” he wrote in 1857, “which removes our destiny from the insignificance of a frontier state, making our rivers and railroads the through fares to and from regions . . . destined to be an Empire in population and resources before the termination of the century.” That same year Lorin Blodget published Climatology of the United States, and of the temperate latitudes of the North American continent . . . (Philadelphia), which included statistics and observations on the climate and resources of the HBC territories. According to Blodget, the capacity of the region for agriculture and settlement had been “much underrated and greatly misunderstood.” Taylor and the Minnesota expansionists saw in Blodget’s book the scientific basis for their own contentions regarding the agricultural possibilities of the territories, as well as reinforcement for their efforts in arousing support for American annexation of the northwest.

In 1859, at the request of the governor of Minnesota, Henry Hastings Sibley, Taylor visited the Red River settlement (Man.). His report recommended the extension of the Reciprocity Treaty of 1854 to the British territories in the northwest. He believed that commercial advantages would accrue to the United States without the necessity of annexation. That year he was appointed a special agent of the Department of Treasury to investigate trade and transportation between the United States and the HBC territories. (He remained in the post until 1869.) At the time of his appointment, the Reciprocity Treaty was under attack by American timber, grain, transportation, and manufacturing interests. To counter the attack Senator Henry Mower Rice of Minnesota secured approval from the department for a study of the treaty by Taylor. In 1860 Taylor commented favourably on reciprocity and recommended its extension to the territories and British Columbia. In 1862 he provided a more detailed study in which he outlined the mutual value of the treaty and the potential market that existed to the northwest. He urged that no unnecessary restrictions be imposed on existing trade. The commercial ties already in place, added to the dissatisfaction of the inhabitants of the Red River settlement with the rule of the HBC, would lead to a popular movement for the colony’s entry into the United States. Although the Reciprocity Treaty was abrogated by the United States in 1866, the House of Representatives that year asked Taylor to examine the commercial relations between British North America and the United States. Taylor’s report, presented in June, associated the destiny of the British North American colonies with a transcontinental railway. He was confident that neither Britain nor the proposed confederation would construct such a line. At the same time he drew up a bill providing for the entry of the colonies and the HBC territories into the United States. The bill was submitted to the House of Representatives but died in committee.

Like all the Minnesota expansionists, Taylor believed that the instrument of annexation was the railway. He was convinced that, if the HBC territories could be made dependent for transportation and trade on St Paul, Canadians would be reluctant to build a transcontinental railway across the inhospitable country north of Lake Superior, and the territories would eventually fall into the political orbit of the United States. In 1857 he had become secretary of the Minnesota and Pacific Railroad Company, which was to build from St Paul north to the international boundary. Taylor was the railway’s most active publicist, always stressing its anticipated role in advancing Minnesota’s commercial destiny. The railway fell short of its initial expectations and in 1862 its charter was transferred to the newly organized St Paul and Pacific Railroad. Taylor became an energetic supporter of this new line.

From Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online

² - A term commonly used at this time analogous to the word 'orderly' - see it used in this article about the same time period...

Reader Memories: Blizzard of 1941

I heard once again from Ernest Gunerius this morning. Ernest shares that he first sent this story to the online list BUFFALO-HUNTERS-L@rootsweb.com; it concerns the infamous blizzard of 1941, which he experienced first-hand. Here are his memories, and amazing they are...

While waiting for inspiration to answer Marilyn's questions on Clergy and the Social scene in 1850's North Dakota, I thought I would comment on Weather in that region both historically and my personal experiences. This little story will also have elements in it that touch a little on some of her other questions, such as the ethnic heritage of the people that immigrated to the Red River Valley and the type of people they were. At least to show the mettle of the people in 1940. The men that enlisted in the armed forces from Pembina on December 8, 1941.

In Pembina, while still a resident, there was a saying : The only thing that can be said for sure about Pembina weather is: "It never snows in August". Once, in the late 1930's, I saw it snow during the Baseball game at the Pembina Ball Park on the Fourth of July.

The great Blizzard of 1888, while not the first recorded, was the most disastrous recorded. 400 lives were lost and uncounted cattle and other animals. I would suppose the Buffalo survived well. I have seen it claimed that cattle from North Dakota, drifting with the north wind were eventually shipped home from Texas where they stopped. That may be an exaggeration.

Saturday, March 15, 1941 began as a normal morning. I recall the sparrows in the ivy on the north wall of the house to the right of the door off the porch (on the old Wardwell house) were making their normal annoying, loud, twittering. The sky was generally clear. Around four in the afternoon, I noticed that the sparrows were silent. Looking to the west out the bay window on the south wall of the kitchen, I could see, on the horizon a faint black cloud.

My sister and I were planning to go to the movie that evening. The movie was shown in the auditorium of the City Hall. Which was one and a half blocks north and across the street on that block that was "kitty corner" from our block.

When we left for the movie the black cloud had moved much closer to town, but my sister was fifteen and I was twelve and we had no worry. The movie was over around 10 PM. However as the lights came on someone, probably the town Marshall, announced that no one was to leave the hall as there was a really bad Blizzard raging outside.

The adult men present organized our exit by alternating adults and children as a chain all holding hands, actually I was not so much holding hands as being held by two adults at either hand. With one of the "Iron Men", possibly George Renville, leading the way we went out, down the long straight staircase that led down to the sidewalk. I was almost immediately disoriented.

I sort of realized we had turned left and then left again and were moving south , but could see nothing , not even the person leading or following, or for that matter, my own hands. I had to keep my eyes shut because if they were open they soon filled with icy snow. The visibility was such that I could not see my hands held six inches from my face.

The chain of people was led south to the corner, then left to the middle of the block to Mrs. Cassidy's restaurant which was open. At this point my sister and I were about 300 feet from our house. We were not allowed to go home by ourselves. We waited till about Midnight when there was a lull in the storm and a group of men led us and some of our friends that lived in that direction to our homes. At that time it was still snowing hard, but the wind had died a little.

In the morning my father woke me to tell me he had a chore for me. And it was to dig a way out of the house through the porch door. The porch was glassed in all round the two open sides and snow covered all windows. Fortunately, probably by design, the door opened in. When opened, a solid hard packed wall of snow appeared.

I tunnelled up, making steps, as I reached the surface, I was treated to a most wondrous sight. All that was visible in the whole town as far as I could see was the roofs of the two story houses and nothing of the single story dwellings. The eaves of our house were about 16 feet from the ground, maybe a little more. I was standing even with the roof on the hard snow. The snow was hard packed and I could walk on it. In the center of the street the snow rose to 20 feet.

My friend Bill Borg (he with the Buffalo skin coat) called me to ask if I would take his Sunday paper delivery. I recall telling him I would lend him my skis so he could deliver his own papers. The train could not get to Pembina that morning so there were no papers to deliver and it wasn't a problem.

Snow removal in the city was a major project. The entire city was buried so the snow had to be loaded on trucks and carried out of town. The crews started from some where out side of town where the snow cover was thin on the highway and plowed to the point where it was necessary to start loading. The clearing as I remember took more than a week.

The Northern Pacific Railroad sent an Engine from Grand Forks to force a way through the snow drifts and to clear the tracks. This engine found a grim and most heartbreaking and sad reminder of the deadly force of the winter blizzards.

Katherine(21 yrs) and Florence(14 yrs) daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Mike Howry of Pembina had attempted to walk into town to help their mother, Mrs. Mike Howry, who was working at Mrs. Cassidy's Cafe, walk home from work.

The girls lost their way in the storm and turned south on the tracks and were apparently frozen to death on the tracks. Their bodies were picked up by the "cowcatcher" on the engine and were discovered when the engine arrived at the depot.

Myself and a few of my friends attended the funeral because their younger brother Frank was our friend. The funeral was to my young years most impressive and solemn. It was held in the old Ukrainian Church in South Pembina. I remember being very impressed and moved by the service and especially by the deep bass voices of the choir who were fathers of my other friends in town, now seen in another light. Because it was spoken and sung in the Ukranian language it added to the mysterious quality.

In the blizzard of 1941, 72 were known dead by Friday March 21. Many people were forced to spend the night in their cars away from home.

During the winter of 1888 and prior to that there were storms of equal or greater fury. I don't know of any record of those storms. I can only assume that the hardship was greater. Later as inspiration urges, we can consider the clothing worn by the early "First People", Metis and settlers.

Weather Early Observations II

The precipitation climate of 1807-8 was quite different, however, with more frequent occurrence of snow and rain during November through March. Snowfall totals were at least 10 and 20 inches, respectively, for the months of November and December, considerably higher than the modern averages taken from Hallock - 5.4 inches for November and 5.1 inches for December - and Pembina - 5.3 inches for November and 5.4 inches for December. In this context the Red River probably flowed at a higher level during Henry's time there, lacking as it did the agricultural drainage and reservoirs or holding ponds that characterize the valley today.

Some of Henry's remarks and climate summaries from 1807-8 are worth noting:

Following early September warmth, with temperatures as high as 89F, Monday the seventh brought a frost to the valley that ended the growing season for cucumbers and melons. These temperatures helped trigger a change in leaf color on most of the trees. Thunderstorms, with large hail and strong winds, occurred at mid-month, followed by 2 inches of snowfall near where Two Rivers joins the Red River of the North, just west of present-day Hallock, a number of hard freezes, with temperatures dipping into the twenties, were noted in the second half of the month.

Corn and potatoes were harvested the first few days of October. A luminescent star with a long tail was noted in the western sky; this feature (perhaps a comet) lasted until mid-November. Numerous prairie fires occurred during the month, some producing enough smoke to drastically reduce visibility. Fires were a common occurrence on the prairie landscape throughout the nineteenth century: the dry native grasses provided excellent fuels easily ignited by cloud-to-ground lightning strikes.

November brought frequent snows and cold. Snowfall occurred on 15 days, probably totaling more than 10 inches for the month. The Red River was frozen over by the twelfth and could accommodate foot and sled traffic by mid-month as the temperature fell to -1F on November 14.

Very cold temperatures and abundant snow continued in December. The month's snowfall total exceeded 20 inches. Temperatures fell below zero degrees Fahrenheit on seven days, reaching a low of -17F on the seventeenth. In fact, on four days the temperature never rose above zero. Combined with very strong winds, these low temperatures produced some dangerous wind-chill values, but of course this was long before the concept of "wind chill" had ever been proposed. Nevertheless, one could infer that layered clothing under a buffalo robe was the rule.

January's cold temperatures produced halos around the sun and moon on several occasions. Fifteen days registered below-zero temperatures. Unlike the late-twentieth-century climate of the Red River valley, which showed a high frequency of January thaws, there was no thaw period - or even a single day above freezing - in January 1808. There were 11 days with snowfall, and a good deal of blowing and drifting.

February 2 (Groundhog Day) brought the first thaw, as the temperature reached an afternoon nigh of 36F. But this relative warmth was only a tease, as the rest of the month brought 15 more days of below-zero temperatures, some with presumably dangerous wind-chill conditions due to high winds. February ended on a warming trend, reaching a high of 42F on the twenty-eighth and melting quite a bit of snow cover.

Early March saw the warm spell continue, with three consecutive days in the forties. Henry observed migrating swans the first week of the month, followed by buzzards. By March 13, water began to flow over the top of the ice in the Red River. Six inches of fresh snow was noted at mid-month, then alternating freeze-thaw periods. Four nights recorded below-zero readings, the coldest, -7F, coming on the morning of the twelfth. The month's high temperature, 52F, was recorded on the twenty-sixth.

April 2 brought a snowstorm, but it was followed by a pronounced thawing period. Several days saw temperatures in the forties and fifties, and on the eighth the ice broke up on the Red River and started to flow north. Henry observed abundant migrating waterfowl, often resting along the river's banks. He caught the season's first fish on April 7. With the prolonged warm spell and absence of significant precipitation, the ice break-up occurred in relatively short order. The daytime temperature hit 65F on the twelfth, and the river level began to drop two days later, falling 2 feet in a 24-hour period. The last week of April, Henry and his men enjoyed great success as they fished for sturgeon. April 27-29 saw summer like temperatures - highs in the mid-to-upper eighties (89F on the twenty-ninth) - and a substantial rainstorm ended the month.

May brought wide swings in temperature and even a snowstorm on the third, the last of the season. Alternating high-low temperatures and very strong winds indicated numerous cold fronts passing through. Temperatures ranged from 28F on the fourth to 86F on the eighteenth. Sturgeon fishing remained very good: Henry noted taking up to one hundred fish per day out of the Red River.

Henry's climate records for 1807-8 end on June 1, a sultry day with a high of 92F and a low of only 70F. From his journal entries and daily weather observations - one of the few such documents of the region prior to the establishment of Fort Snelling in 1819 - we have a picture of the harshness, beauty, and serenity of the Red River Valley's landscape and climate.

From Minnesota Weather Almanac, by Mark W. Seeley (Published by Minnesota Historical Society © 2006)

Inhaling Mosquitoes

When Major Samuel Wood descended the Red River in July 1849 (the wet year), he complained while near the Sheyenne River, that his party was "made restive by the mosquitoes ... We camped on the north bank ... during the night, the mosquitoes infested our camp in clouds ... it was impossible to talk without inhaling them" (Wood 1850, 18). Later, near the Salt (Forest) River, Wood wrote, "These pests had become so much worse ... The sufferings of our horses were painful to behold, and irremediable. We made divers smokes about them, which sometimes availed, but at other times did no good" (Wood 1850, 18). The unknown sergeant accompanying Wood noted mosquitoes almost every day, from western Minnesota into North Dakota, and north along the Red River to Pembina, but he believed them worse at Pembina (Babcock 1927). Stevens reported mosquitoes (numerous, annoying, swarms, etc.) all the way from the Bois de Sioux River to the second crossing of the Sheyenne (June 28 to July 15, 1853)(Stevens 1860). Members of the first Fisk expedition also noted mosquitoes on the Sheyenne River in early July 1862 (Bond 1862), but not by the second expedition in 1863, or by any of the military expeditions of 1863 or 1864 (Fisk 1863, 1864). Captain Crossman, the commander at Fort Ransom, noted, in 1867, that the "mosquitoes were something terrific. In all my experiences in Texas, Louisiana, and other places, I never saw anything to compare with the mosquitoes of Dakota and Minnesota. They actually made life a burden" (Crossman 1895, n.p.). Mosquitoes were, like today, more common along the river bottoms and other moist areas. Wood made an attempt to avoid them by camping on a high ridge because "we were fearful of going into the bottoms, on account of the mosquitoes" (Wood 1850, 18). Early settlers also were sometimes plagued, as Arnold described circumstances in Grand Forks County, 1880, when ranchers had to "smudge the cattle" to protect them from mosquitoes (Arnold 1921, 34).

Interlude: Red Gets Out of Bed Again!

Yes, that darn Red River of the North is out of its bed again! I went walking today and was shocked to see the river way out of its bed, up at the foot of the dikes here in Fargo, totally covering the banks and even the walkways and low roads along it. Farmers markets had to be held in alternative locations, pedestrian river bridges were pulled off of the river, fully-blossomed trees were being drowned. This has been one of those strange but definitely-not-unheard-of years where the Red is temperamental, up then down, raging then quiet. All the while, pockets of too much rain cause some valley farmers to stay out of the fields, some fields likely not to be planted at all this year...

Weather: Early Observations I

Alexander Henry, known by some as Henry the Younger to distinguish him from his well-known uncle, was a prominent figure in Canada's North West Fur Company during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. He spent considerable time exploring, hunting, and trapping in the Red River Valley and helped establish old Fort Pembina just across the river from present-day St. Vincent, Minnesota. A literate man, Henry was one of the first pioneers in the region to keep a journal that contained detailed weather observations. Documents suggest that he established his trading post on the same ground used by Charles Chaboillez¹ in 1797. Chaboillez was a partner in the North West Fur Company who later supervised a company post on Lake Superior. He, too, kept a journal of his activities near the junction of the Pembina and Red rivers, but it lacked the weather and climate detail of Henry's.

Henry traded alcohol, tools, and weapons with the native americans who lived near Fort Pembina: the Dakota tribes of the plains on the western side of the river (later North Dakota) and the Ojibwe on the eastern side of the river. He was meticulous in keeping daily weather observations from September 1807 through June 1808.

The landscape of northwestern Minnesota was vastly different during Henry's time. Buffalo and beaver were abundant, as were red deer, moose, bear, and wolves. The wide river valley was populated with tall prairie grasses and old trees (oak, birch, maple, pine, poplar, and willow, among others) and dotted with wetland areas (sedge and marsh.) A mosaic of trails and paths devoid of vegetation weaved across this prairie where the abundant buffalo herds trampled and compacted the heavy, wet soils. In addition to hunting buffalo and red deer for food, Henry and his men had good luck fishing the Red River, which was full of sturgeon.

Henry prized his daily journal of weather and nature observations, three volumes of which were published in 1897. Though some historians consider the Henry documents to be dry and humorless, for climatologists they are a treasure trove for use in evaluating the weather behaviors of a bygone era. His records are also noteworthy because they include climate descriptions of the area before the end of the Little Ice Age (1850)², a relatively cooler period for the northern hemisphere.

The Minnesota State Climatology Office has archived records of Henry's daily weather observations from September 1, 1807, to June 1, 1808. These include morning, midday, and evening observations of air temperature, wind, and sky condition, along with remarks describing the day's character. The following tables show comparisons between Henry's observations and current published climatic normals at Pembina, North Dakota, and at Hallock, Minnesota.

In general the tables show that the climate of the Red River Valley during 1807-8 ws similar in temperature to today's climate, with one major exception: April was a remarkably warm month, producing a rapid and early break-up of ice on the Red River, with associated flooding. Henry noted the return of migratory birds as early as April 4 and 5. He also brags of enormously successful sturgeon fishing: on April 24 he "set a sturgeon net and caught 3 instantly." A more detailed book shows that the lowest temperature measured by Henry during the winter was -30F on February 18, quite close to the modern era's usual lowest winter temperature, which ranges from -30 to -35F at Hallock and Pembina. The coldest spell in February 1807 also coincided with some of the strongest winds Henry noted, likely producing wind-chill conditions in the -50F or colder range. However, the winter of 1807-8 saw only 43 days with temperatures below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Modern records from Pembina and Hallock both show an average of 67 days each winter with such temperatures. Thus, Henry and his men did not have to endure the persistent cold that Mother Nature usually brings to the area.

From Minnesota Weather Almanac, by Mark W. Seeley (Published by Minnesota Historical Society © 2006)

¹ - Charles Chaboilliez (Chaboille/Chaboillier) IV: (b.1772, Montreal - d.1812, Mascouche, Lower Canada) Charles was the son of Charles III & Marguerite Larcheveque and he married Jessy Bruce in 1811 at Quebec. Their children were; Charles V (1805-1863), Jean, Marguerite, Pierre (b.abt.1808) (m.Josette bef.1841), & Louise (b.1809)(m.Allan Morrison).

In May of 1791 he was hired by Joseph Frobisher for 4 years as a North West Company clerk. He was at the Cumberland House & Ile-a-la-Crosse NWC posts until he was assigned to the Assiniboine & Red River Departments in 1796. While trading at the mouth of the Pembina River he kept a journal until the summer of 1798. The list of his voyageurs include: Dubois, Chaurette, Roy, Bercier, Desjarlaix, Sauve, Bourret, Francois Delorme, Richards(the HBC trader that left that company to join Chaboilliez), Mineclier, Le Duc, Bertrand, Chevalier, Allard, Bibeau, Pouilliot, Foumas, Lambert, Cadotte & Hyversoit. On 14 Mar 1798 the David Thompson exploration expedition arrived at the Pembina post and 7 days later Chaboilliez accompanied Thompson to Vincent Roy's NWC post south of Pembina on the Forest River. In 1799 he became a partner in the NWC and was given charge of the Lower Red River Department for the company.

On October 31 1804 Lewis & Clark wrote to Chaboilliez from the Upper Mandan village on the Missouri; "...we met with Mr.Hugh M'Cracken, who informed us that he was in some measure employed by you in behalf of the North West Company, traffic with the natives of this quarter...we have determined to fortify ourselves, and remain the ensuing winter...If, sir, in the course of the winter, you have it in your power to furnish us with any hints in relation to the geography of the country, its productions, either mineral, animal or vegetable, or any other information...we should feel ourselves extremely obliged...". - From Trade Goods

² - The 'Little Ice Age' was an interval between about AD 1500 and 1850, characterized by advancing glaciers in mountainous regions of Europe and western North America. However, it is unclear whether this cool moist period was truly global in extent, or how it was manifested in other regions with different climatic controls. A high-resolution reconstruction of salinity fluctuations in Devils Lake, North Dakota, based on fossil diatoms, ostracode-shell geochemistry, and bulk-carbonate geochemistry, indicates that saline conditions prevailed throughout much of the recent past. These results suggest an arid climate in the northern Great Plains throughout the 'Little Ice Age' and that during this interval climatic gradients between the Great Plains and regions to both the east and west may have been quite steep. - From 'Little Ice Age' aridity in the North American Great Plains: a high-resolution reconstruction of salinity fluctuations from Devils Lake, North Dakota, USA by Sherilyn C. Fritz, Daniel R. Engstrom, and Brian J. Haskell (The Holocene, Vol. 4, No. 1, 69-73 (1994))