NEW Book: Pembina County @ 150

Jim Benjaminson shared today:  

Well, its getting closer to reality - "Sagas of Pembina County, 1867-2017" is at the printers.  A 148 page, fully indexed compilation of stories written for county newspapers in 2017-2018 with added material and historical photographs.  We'll let you know when it's ready!

Water Cooler VII: School Memories - Bullying

Humboldt-St. Vincent School, like any other school, had its share of bullying and bullies...

Michael Rustad: I remember when Dave Boatz sang the Beatle's song, "He is a real nowhere man." He adapted it to Walter Petruska. "He's a real no-hair man!" Dave was a comedic genius. When we were altar boys together, he did his best to get me to laugh at the most inopportune times. He would have a running commentary on the qualities of the tongues at communion time. When Mrs. Friebohl (Grandma) and Toots Ryan went for communion, he had me in stitches with his descriptions!

Dave was never mean-spirited but did these pranks always in a spirit of fun. Ok, he went a step too far in dropping cherry bombs in the boy's toilet or putting Elmer's Glue in Martha Roberts lotion bottle. Martha would often use moisturizing cream and then wipe with her hanky She did this by habit not realizing that Dave had substituted glue for lotion! The class did not dare laugh, but did after class. He would also pick vegetables and flowers from neighbor's gardens and then with his angelic smile try to sell them back! I can tell you so many stories about Dave. Dave had a moral compass in always sticking up for any person with a handicap,. His brother Stevie was profoundly developmentally undeveloped and I think that his love for his brother was key in being empathetic. Randy Younggren, who as deaf and had difficulty speaking, was a case in point. Dave was so good to Randy and he had Randy drive out to our farm on his motorcycle nearly every evening. He was just happy to see us and it did not matter whether he could not speak many words.

Steve Ritter: No Way! Dave never did any of those things! Lol! Dave is one of the best...He has a heart of Gold!

Michael Rustad: I also think that Velma Isely did a great deal to stand up for those being bullied. There was bullying in Humboldt. When we moved to the farm when I was 7, I had to ride the bus and it was an ordeal. They took my stocking hat, did not leave a seat open, etc. It was relentless until around 6th grade. I could name each of the bullies and some were older girls with no moral compass.

Trish Short Lewis: You are so right, Mike. I was bullied a LOT by both peers and older kids, when I was little and up until junior high. My mom went to bat for me, but she also told me to ignore them, which was very hard but I did it so they had no satisfaction. To cope, I withdrew into myself, humming tunes, saying words or phrases over and over, closed my eyes, plugged my ears, read books, etc.

Michael Rustad: Our school bus was parked outside the Post Office and everyone was picking on Barbara Norberg. Mrs. Isely boarded the bus and essentially told everyone how ashamed she was and gave a long speech about compassion. She eluded authority and people stopped bullying her after she deboarded the bus and were off to Lake Bronson. I remember well how I dreaded the bus because Tony and I were bullied.

Steve Ritter: I think when we're young we all say things a little quickly. I am certainly not innocent. Sometimes it's a misunderstanding between young kids. Sometimes the physical side is how many of us have learned to deal with issues. I know that some of the meanest things I've heard came out of the mouth. I remember recesses when I was young being tormented by older kids. Being dogpiled and being on the bottom of several. It was not as much fun as people would think. I finally stood up and took on one of these people. I knew it would let my parents down if I got into a fight because my father and mother didn't believe in physical violence of any kind. But I'd had enough. I did get in trouble and was grounded for a period of time. but no one bothered me again. No one dogpiled me again. It's too bad people treat others in a negative fashion but sometimes and for whatever reason it happens. Most of the time it happens just straight out of ignorance and sometimes pain. Mrs Isley was a wonderful person!!

Trish Short Lewis: I agree with *most* of what you say, but I also think some people are just plain mean. Many who are mean got it from their role models, i.e., their parents. Either their parents are authoritarian, or abusive, or both. I wasn't perfect - I was a chatty girl who never knew enough to keep her mouth shut sometimes (not always) and that would get me in 'trouble' - it wasn't being mean, it was being inappropriate, interruptive, and/or loud. I definitely feel that is a LOT different than saying unkind and downright mean things to someone, or physically hurting someone, etc. That's a horse of another color entirely. So the bullying I and others suffered was mean and wrong. Period.

Frederick A. Bailey: An NWMP 'Original'

Sgt. Fred Bailey
[Source:  RCMP Veterans Association,
Vancouver Division]

Let me introduce you to an ordinary man who happened to make a bit of local history by just doing what many in his day did - living life, making choices, taking risks.  

"This I believe is the diary of Frederick Bagley when he enlisted in the North-West Mounted Police as a trumpeteer at 15 years of age; They left Fort Dufferin in 1874 to secure the Medicine Line!" 

- J. Rempel

I will be sharing portions of that diary here on this blog at a later time. But for now, let us learn a bit about Sub-Constable Fred Bagley, Trumpeteer ...

According to a fascinating online biography (which I quote here in-full since so many such pages seem to disappear):

Fred Bagley’s musical talents and leadership provided a major contribution to the Force and to the communities he served in.

With regarding setting records, he was first in the following areas: 

a) being the youngest member to be sworn into the Force; 

b) first Trumpeteer in the Force; 

c) present to guard and witness the first person to be hung in the North-West Territories at Fort Saskatchewan; and 

d) first member to lead a musical performance before Royalty.

Water Cooler VI: A Tiny, Magical Gas Station

Elmer Maxwell's tiny gas station  [Photo: Ronald Cox]

A woman who wore black and often wore a veil, and would garden early in the morning to avoid being seen by others. Was she simply eccentric, or did she suffer from a grief or depression so personal no one else understood? Her brother was a kind man, who was kind to the town's children, ran a matchbox-sized gasoline station, and had a love for his state's sports. Read below for another Water Cooler Memories from Humboldt...

Michael Rustad: It's these details Maury that make for great historical accounts. 

Kathy Ohmann: I loved his treasure chest of coins. We got to open it ourselves and take a penny out for each empty pop bottle we brought. Janine and I walked miles of ditches to find more bottles. 

Michael Rustad: He paid 5 cents for the 10 ounce bottles and 2 cents for the 6 ounce. The ditches were a treasure trove as in those days there was no social pressure against tossing empties. 

Donald Reese: Looks like Mae and Elmer's place, we use to go there and get white gas to run the lawn mower. 

Michael Rustad: What is white gas? Did you ever speak with Mae. In our day, she was a woman dressed in black who seemed very mysterious to us. She was a real Juliet of the Spirits. Elmer, on the other hand, was very friendly. I wonder whether this was built as a tiny gas station like a tiny house or was it a shack used for other purposes. 

John Bergh: We sat in there and watched the Winnipeg to Minneapolis snowmobile race. The school couldn't find us. 

Michael Rustad: Elmer was always welcoming. That's a great story. I wonder if there was heat in the shack. I see there is a chimney pipe of sorts. 

John Bergh: The principal or teachers were afraid to go in there. Needless to say we were in big trouble when we returned 

Keith Finney: Coal stove. It was about 200 degrees by the stove and freezing at the door 

Michael Rustad: If we could be released to see Alan Shepherd or John Glenn, why not the Great Snowmobile Race. Good for you! Humboldt rebels! 

Richard A. Olsonawski: What a place to go an have a soda an chat with Elmer. He was quite a guy in that little shack.

August 2016

Elmer, Mary Miller, & Mae [Photo Credit: Ronald Cox]

 Stever Ritter:  I remember this building and the wonderful people that ran it...wow, takes me back.

Becky Clow: Thanks for the picture Michael. 

Karen Hylland Pearson: Bought "pop" from Elmer Maxwell in this little station--we hung out there sometimes....so many good memories of life in Humboldt. 

Richard A. Olsonawski: Elmer was good to all the kids. I think most kids from Humboldt spent some time at this little gas station. 

Brad Clow: Elmer and Mae Maxwell. 

Michael Rustad: Mae was always dressed in black flowing and sometimes veiled dresses. She was a mysterious figure. I never remember saying more than hi to her. Did anyone ever talk to her in our H-St. V. group. We all enjoyed a cold bottle of pop with Elmer. I loved talking to him about the Twins. He also followed the Golden Gophers football. He was a very calm, thoughtful man. He always wore coveralls and I think long-johns--even in the summer. I bet Elmer never once wore shorts and a t-shirt. He was good to us all. Jeff and I would sell pop bottles (Tony too) to Elmer. He would always take the ones that Mayme turned away. She was more particular. I though much later that he loved the kids so much that he would take a loss on a pop bottle or two as a cost of doing business. 

Brad Clow: I used to go over and buy pop on the weekends. I would go to the house door and Mae would answer. Nice person to talk with. She would do her gardens early morning so she didn't have to be around people. Grandpa Clow said she was extremely smart. 

Michael Rustad: When he paid us, I remember that he had a large leather coin purse with metal hasps and he would carefully count out the money. We would often hand it right back to me for a cold soda or two. They tasted so cold out of the coke cooler that Bill Ash wrote about recently. 

Marion Anderson: I also remember that gas station on the corner. Good memories. Would like to see Humboldt, as it was, back in the early 50's. 

Trish Short Lewis: Do what I do, Marion - dream about it. Most of my dreams in recent years (and sometimes in years past) are of St. Vincent and Humboldt... 

Maury Finney: I remember the "free air" hole in the outer wall that had a cork in it. When I would stop to pump up my bicycle tires Elmer or May would go inside and push the hose out.

Michael Rustad: Humboldt in the 1950s was quite vibrant. I remember that the farmers came in to the store and restaurant, and the town had some life on a Friday night. I remember that the town hall was a gathering place for card games. Virgil's old films show a dance where Jim and Dora, and Don and Marion are coming into the dance. They were young guys in the 1950s. Jim had a big smile on his face. It was also so nice to see on the film Willis Finney attending to and fixing Joyce's skates. She and Sandy were skating at the rink with the other Humboldt kids. I also enjoy that we have established a community of sorts on Facebook. We may have different religions, political creeds, and outlooks and live far away, but all of us share that bond with Humboldt [and St. Vincent - Trish]. It is a deeper bond than any thing else. I came all the way back from Vermont for the reunion and saw Maury's band. That night, the band played all of my favorites brilliantly. And Al was there in the band too! Doug Finney sang Elvis songs later in the night. And there were Fireworks. I would have thought it was a dream--fireworks in Humboldt. And that parade and the concessions were so wonderful. I don't know of any event that I have enjoyed more, seeing Humboldt so spruced up and making memories with friends and family. I kind of botched my limited role introducing students from classes. The sound system was not working, the heat and humidity was intense. I have spoken in public for forty years but speaking at Humboldt made me a little nervous. 

Trish Short Lewis: Yes, the heat was so bad I almost got heatstroke and had to leave early and missed the evening events, which I greatly regret. 

Michael Rustad: I tried to find information on Elmer and Mae [2nd cousins, 1x removed - Trish] on Dennis Matthew's website. There was only the Samuel Maxwell family. I wonder if Marion May was a niece of Elmer and Mae. Just a guess. 

Suzanne Dexter: The Maxwells were cousins of my Grandma Elsie Thomson Dexter [2nd cousin, 1x removed - Trish]

Michael Rustad: I knew Elsie but had no idea she was related to the Maxwells. She was a nice lady. How old were you when she passed? 

Suzanne Dexter [3rd cousin, 1x removed - Trish]: I was a senior in high school 

Donald Reese: I remember this station, you had to pump the gas up into the glass container on the top and then gravity feed it in to the auto, we always bought white gas here for the lawn mower, don't know why but it was thought that regular gas was bad for lawn mower engines. 

Michael Rustad: Don, that's a very cool memory. It was like that in my early years too but I could not explain it nearly as well! I really do not know what white gas was I am trying to rack my brain and wonder why I never heard of it! 

Donald Reese: I believe the white gas didn't contain any lead, and lead was believed to be bad for those little motors, made them run too hot. Don't really know for sure. 

Keith Finney: Who was it that called Elmer " Elmo "?

September 2016

Mayme Jury's store

Jerry Bernath: Anybody remember a tractor tire?!?  Just sayin'. 

Keith Finney: Yes I do 

Cleo Bee Jones: Mayme Jury's store...Louise and I used to take Grandpa's eggs for the store...sometimes we would dress up in big overalls and awful looking shirts...just to be "stupid" - I was going to say silly, but stupid covers it... 

Carnalee Cleem Lykken: Awe...great memory! 

Doris Giffen Miller: I used to babysit the people who lived upstairs here. Don't remember who they were tho. Fibro-fog. 

Rodney Bakken: Sat on those front steps solving the world's problems hundreds of times. 

Lynda Johnson Cassels: If only those steps could talk, what stories they could tell. 

Becky Simmons: I remember that store 

Michael Rustad: Becky Simmons, when did you live in Humboldt? 

Michael Rustad: Dad worked with Mayme in 1948-49 while Jim Florance wintered in California. They fixed up the entire store. Who remembers when there were no aisles and the store keeper would fetch everything behind the big counter. This was before I was born. When Mr. Florance came home in April 1949, he told Rustee and Mayme that they had wasted all of that work because he was joining Fareway as a franchisee and the store would be modernized with aisles. Don Reese is the only one I know who may remember the store before it had aisles! 

Lance Loer: I remember it too! 

Doris Giffen Miller: I take it back. This was Mayme's store and I babysat someone above the bar and restaurant. 

Michael Rustad: Would you have been a babysitter for a family living in the apartment. I think Virgil owned the building for a period. 

Michael Rustad: Did Quintin Dieter and famiy live there at one time? 

Jerry Bernath: Mike, I think you are on to something here. That rings a bell. (Unless of course, my bell was rung enough, so I don't remember so good.) But, I'm thinkin' they did live there. 

Michael Rustad: Voits (lenz kids) lived there while Ken and Jeanne ran the It Cafe. 

Jerry Bernath: That may be who I'm thinkin' of. 

Keith Finney: I lived there Doris Giffen Miller, that would be a stretch if you were my babysitter. All of Kenny and Jean's kids would have been too old as well. Brad Clow's Great Grandma was our neighbor as well. Babcock. 

Dan MacFarlane: Mayme Jury was a cousin of mine. I recall the store and Mayme living above it. That would be early 60' maybe late late 50s. 

Keith Finney: That is right. I knew that for some reason.

And the conversations around the virtual water cooler will continue...

Another Tragic Family Saga Continues: Fire

Interior of Gardiner garage, still showing signs of accident to this day
[Photo Courtesy:  Kris Baldwin Ohmann]

This from a witness of the accident, Ron Cleem:

"I was nearby when it happened and rushed over when it started burning. 

"Frank was welding in the garage when the accident happened.  He tried to save the garage by running out of the building with a pan of oil or fuel that had caught fire.  He ended up being severely burned doing it, and died as a result of his burns. His wife Helen just died this last year I think, and she always hated seeing that building which bought up tragic memories. Frank lost a brother in 1954 when the drunk driver hit a group of kids in St. Vincent, and a sister who was in high school,  in a car accident in 1955. So much tragedy, like Lena Paul Fitzpatrick Nordstrom experienced, so much heartache for his mother..." 

Obituary:  Frank Willard Gardiner, Noyes, Minn., passed away at the Emerson, Manitoba hospital Tuesday, March 5, 1957, following an accident when a gasoline tank he was working on exploded, showering him with burning gasoline. He was 30 years, 5 months and 4 days of age.

The accident occurred shortly after 4 P.M. Monday, March 4 to the rear of his father's home at St. Vincent in a garage. He died the following day at 2:15 P.M.

Deceased was born September 29,1926 at Neche, N.D. He attended Grade School at St. Vincent and also the Pembina, N.D. High School, Pembina being located just across the Red River from St. Vincent.

He was married April 26,1947 to Miss Helen Louise Graves, at Auburn, Washington. To this union two children were born, Frank Willard, Jr., age 4 years and Robyn Kathryn, age 3 years.

He is survived by his wife and children and parents. Six sisters, one brother: Mrs Lorraine Hosch of Noyes; Mrs. Leonard Jerome,Hallock; Mrs. Glen Davis, Greenville, SC; Mrs. Wayne Copeland, Harian, Iowa; Mrs. George Dennis, Humboldt; Jacquelyn at home; Arnold at Great Lakes Naval Training Station, Illinois.

He was preceded in death by a brother and sister, Gloria and Martin, both of whom figured in accidents which took their lives. One, in the McGovern accident a few years ago at St. Vincent, and the other in connection with the Slator hit-and-run driving accident at St. Vincent, also.
Mr. Gardiner lived in Seattle, Wash., from 1947 to 1948, returning to St. Vincent in 1949, remained there until 1950. He traveled two years through Southern states with Anderson Bros. Pipe Line Company. He also spent six months in Montana and then moved to Noyes, this county where he purchased the Border Café¹ and operated the same until his death. He also did some commercial trucking.

Water Cooler IV: Short's Cafe Memories

Circa the late 1940s/early 1950s @ the Short's Cafe...

'The food is not Stranger and we are never Short on customers'

Not long ago, Cleo Bee Jones' photo taken of Short's Cafe not long before it was torn down, triggered a thread on Facebook; in this thread, people shared their memories of Short's Cafe in St. Vincent...

Cleo Bee Jones I took this picture [NOTE:  See Cleo's photo at bottom of this post] of Short's Cafe when I was in the area singing at the Hallock Fair one year...

Deborah Kopylov It's strange to see this old place and that sidewalk knowing that years ago I walked that sidewalk and went into that Cafe that had so much life!!

Trish Short Lewis ‎Deb, I know what you mean. It sure brings home the passage of time as it relates to one's own life...

Eliza "Liza" Stranger Short

James McC Ah, yes...I have many memories of this building. Known affectionately as simply "Ma Short's".

Margie L. White I had my first orange soda float at Ma Short's. What a treat that was!

Cleo Bee Jones I always feel nostalgic when I see this pic, taken the night before I last sang at the Hallock fair...I was at my Aunt Ruby's and walked down by there with my camera in hand and glad that I did.

Trish Short Lewis I'm very glad you did it also, Cleo. It's just a memory now...

Water Cooler III: Further Down Memory Lane

This time, the water cooler chatter turned to our neighboring town - and good friends - Humboldt, MN.

Michael Rustad My Mother, Pat Carrigan Rustad, would have been 88 today. She died in 1989 at age 63.

Dan Ducharme So young

Cleo Bee Jones For sure, way too young

Donald Reese I think your dad was one of my closest friends.  I think he passed haway younger than that. I don't remember at what age...

Michael Rustad Dad passed away in 1986 at age 63.

Connie Lang Fowler I've already passed my mother's death by 16 years as well and all of the above died young as they say!

Maury Finney She and your Pop were super people!!! Great Humboldt memories!!

Michael Rustad Dad loved everyone in Humboldt. I remember him taking me to hear your Mom play the piano in the town hall. We actually had pretty vibrant town hall parties where everyone danced, roller-skated, played basketball. I think my Dad was just in love with Humboldt and everyone in the community. In all of his years, I never once ever heard him say anything remotely negative about anyone. Think the best of people was his watchword or his motto.

Cleo Bee Jones Sounds right...the more one thinks about it all, up there, the more one misses that way of life, my eyes leak so much when I remember all the people, friends, relatives, and just the life style and all...

Michael Rustad I was speaking last night with Aunt Norma and she told me that they would clear out the living room and have a house party with 50 or more. Everyone brought food and BYOB. She said she misses those house parties and where you can talk to your neighbor.

Maury Finney I really think when and where we grow up, we are so influenced by the community around us...Your mom and dad along with so many in Humboldt mentored a positive attitude and kindness. We were so fortunate to get our start there.

Donald Reese You're on-the-job education in a little community like Humboldt, including the surrounding farmers, really could be used for a foundation for your future,  I remember being interviewed at my workplace for an apprenticeship in maintenance job and was asked where I got my mechanic ability; my response was you don't grow up on a farm in Minnesota without knowing which end of the wrench to use. I got the job.

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

Past Resident Memories: John Stranger

John Stranger - Back row, middle

A MEMOIR OF A LIFE, FOR BETTER OR WORSE

By John A. Stranger

CHAPTER ONE

Beginnings

This all begins in a small town in Minnesota during the 40's when growing up was a struggle without all the things a boy wants and dreams about. Outdoor toilets and dressing behind the oil burner turned up full blast where my brother (4 yrs. Younger) and I learned to dress very fast during the cold Minnesota winters.

My brother was a great kid even though we would have our brotherly confrontations. We had a younger sister too and she learned to hold her own with us boys. Our parents were very strict on almost everything that they thought was for our best interests even though we tried to disagree with our parents at times but trying to obey seemed better than a beating, (most we probably had coming).

Emerson Minister Goes to War

The article below shares a typical yet extraordinary story of one WWI veteran.  His name was Amos Mayse, and among the many things he did in his life, it included being a Minister of God in Emerson, Manitoba.  Read about his story below...

The last veterans of the First World War — friend and foe alike — have now joined their slain comrades from the Ypres Salient, Regina Trench, Vimy Ridge, Polygon Wood and Coronel and a thousand other far-flung battlefields. 

And increasingly, the grey-headed ranks of the Second World War also depart to join the fading divisions that preceded them. 

So Remembrance Day becomes increasingly important. It keeps us from forgetting who we are — and why. 

Yet one of the things that is sometimes easy to overlook amid the stirring music, the flights of warplanes, the firing of volleys, the spit-and-polish drill and the official laying of wreaths is that among all the things that war entails, all war is always about families. 

It is from families that the warriors come. It is families that bear their loss, or worse, that carry the wreckage when broken warriors return. It is families that suffer and it is in families that the most important and intimate remembrances are cherished. 

So here’s one family’s war story.

Cheer(io) the Crow

Nancy gives Cheer a treat...
[Diamond Family Collection]

I recently posted a story about a crow who was raised by humans, and therefore had an unusual relationship with them and the the other residents of their small town. I wondered, did anyone have a photo of him? Turns out, someone did...

Growing up in a farm community it was not common for people to have actual pets.  We had several dogs and one was Dennis’s pet and there were always cats in the barn. 

When I was about 10, Dennis and Mickey Boatz robbed a crow’s nest up at the north farm and came home with three baby crows.  Dennis, Marlys and I adopted them, and kept them in a small wooden chicken cage in the yard.  We hand-fed them a diet of raw liver and dry food.  I named mine “Cheer” because he loved to eat Cheerios cereal. Cheer was the only one that survived.
When he got big enough to fly he roamed the town of Humboldt and actually got to be a pest.  He learned to peck on windows and wake people up as he was ready for food.  Jamie Rustad has a photo of him sitting on her playpen and he would steal her food.   So Dad decided we needed to remove him from town. We captured him and he took him back to the north farm and let him go.  I remember being so upset about losing my pet. 

Well, Cheer beat Dad back to town!!  He would sometimes come when I called his name and land on my head.  They are a pretty large bird when full grown so you knew he was sitting on your head. 

I was concerned how he would survive the winter but he met with an accident late that fall and died.   I have fond memories of my pet crow and a summer of adventure in Humboldt. 

Nancy

Cheer the Crow pays a visit to little Jamie Rustad
[October 1956 - Rustad Family Collection]

Humboldt Stories: Cheer(ios) the Crow

The other day, I mentioned crows, which brought up some interesting responses.  My cousin told me how our Grandpa and Grandma Fitzpatrick had a pet crow of sorts that lived on the farm.  Someone had split its tongue so it could talk.  It wasn't kept captive, but hung around the farm, picking up human speech, and evidently would spout off some phrases once and awhile.  That sparked a memory from Mike Rustad...

We love crows in Vermont too. They are intelligent, loyal, and wonderful birds. I love them and feed them! Ever since the Diamond's crow Cheer (named because he like Cheerios) graced our life, I've loved crows. He  was an amazing pet crow that would sometimes take crackers from my baby sister's hand. Very gently. But Harvey Diamond had a lot of neighbor complaints and decided to drive Cheer out into the country. He shed a tear, but never fear - When he returned to his home in Humboldt, Cheer was waiting for him. Cheer lived a long life, but died in a tragic accident. He would perch on the Diamond's children's playhouse. One day a burst of wind caused the window to fall on Cheer and he was killed instantly. I remember crying because I lost a my dear bird friend.

Tales of St. Vincent:

Rev. Kimberley's Grandson

In my eternal quest for stories and history about my beloved hometown, I came across a former resident's grandson¹ who lives in far off Oregon.

Here is a story the grandson remembers being told about...

Yes, I am the grandson of Rev. James Kimberley.

My father grew up in St. Vincent. I've never been there, but he told me many stories about growing up there. I think their house had a white picket fence around it. My father told me that when his parents were gone for the day, he was to rake up all the leaves. He had some matches and set little piles of leaves on fire, then stamped it out. It got bigger and bigger and the stamping didn't work. It caught the fence on fire. half of it was burned when his parents came home. He hid upstairs under their bed. His father found him and in his British accent said, "I say, Gurney, are you there?"  He responded, "NO!" His father was not amused. He caught hell for that one.  

 [as recalled by Ogden Kimberley, shared with me February 26, 2011]

¹ - I think Rev. K would like that his grandson is a bagpiper!

Memories of a Humboldt Native

Anthony "Tony" Merck
Humboldt Depot agent

This reminicense by Margaret Matthew Panzer is full of memories and names of old Humboldt in the way a poem about the town was.  As you will read, there was a lot of community and fellowship as people strove to make a good life for themselves and their families, but there were also hard times (such as during the Depression)...

...My parent's farm was a little over a mile south along Highway 75 and we often walked to town and even to church on Sunday morning when the weather was pleasant.

Though my dad had a hitching post in our yard the only time I really remember a sleigh ride was on Thanksgiving when we went cross country to Len Sylvester's farm to enjoy the day. Lots of good food and crowding around her pot belly stove, playing the piano and working on the Charleston steps were all fun.

We did ride in a school bus in nice weather and a large sled during the winter weather.

Humboldt had been built on both sides of the main highway. East of the highway was really only about four large blocks. There seemed to be wide spaces between homes as some blocks had a home only on the corner.

Guest Post: Michael Rustad

Lyle Dexter, Michael Rustad, Jane Dexter, & Carolyn Wiese (in back)
watch videos in church during 2007 town centennial/school reunion

This is the first in a new series called "Guest Post: YOUR NAME HERE", which will feature essays by guest writers, recalling memories and/or reflections of our hometown area. If you are from Kittson County, Pembina County, or southern Manitoba, and have memories you'd like to share about our area, let me know.

The first writer is Michael Rustad, who is (to coin a phrase) the midwife of this blog...

Troop Socials

A pass was regularly made out for a Non-Com and file to go to Pembina, Dakota, for the mail. Passes were also granted at intervals to exchange visits with the American troops in their new fort, which was built a mile south of the town and named Fort Pembina. Our fellows were well treated by the American soldiers and citizens, except by those who had fled from Fort Garry and were wintering in Pembina. Among these were Colonel Stutsman, Jimmy (McCarthy) from Cork¹ (a cranky little Irish-American) and Bob O'Lone². Stutsman and Jimmy resented the visits of the Volunteers to Pembina. Bob O'Lone a more genial character, and the United States Sheriff, John Lennon, a brother of the late Dennis Lennon, the well-known hotel proprietor in Winnipeg, were always ready to prevent interference with the Canadian soldiers. In December, 1870, Bob O'Lone was killed in a brawl at a half-breed dance on the Pembina River, and the redoubtable Jimmy from Cork suffered death the following summer in a fight with Indians.

Ferry was "Water-Powered"

From W.P Davies Newspaper Columns,
Chester Fritz Library Digital Collections

It's fascinating to read this article that includes information on the Red River ferry that once connected St. Vincent and Pembina.

The method Davies alludes to in the article, must have been a rudder (possibly used in conjunction with a tiller control)  that was pushed along by the current, and the ropes were just used to guide it in the desired direction, instead of using a more common pulley system...

Heading to the St. Vincent side of the Red River...

Immigration Chaos

From a traveler's observation of an immigrant train arriving in St. Vincent comes this account...

It was a dull rainy evening when we bade farewell to Pembina, and were ferried across the shallow muddy river to St. Vincent. I suppose it is called the Red River because the water is of a whitey-brown color. At the railway station confusion reigned. A large party of immigrants had just arrived with through tickets by the steamboat line to Winnipeg. But owing to the lowness of the water, and an accident which occurred a few weeks before, there was no boat ready to go down the river. The party must go on by rail, and the officers of the branch line from St. Vincent to St. Boniface, opposite Winnipeg, refused to make any allowance for the steamboat tickets. Despair ruled in the crowded, murky car into which we were packed. Many of the poor immigrants could ill afford the additional cost. We had to pay $3.25 for riding over sixty-five miles of wretched track at the rate of ten miles an hour. The road-bed is so rough that when they run at higher speed, the engine bell is rung by the oscillation.

Long after midnight we were landed in the mud at St. Boniface. Here we fell into the hands of the custom-house Philistines. Never have I seen courtesy and intelligence so successfully concealed under the veil of rude stupidity...

From: Harper's Magazine (May 1880)

In Their Own Words: Charles Cavileer

Source:  State Historical Society of North Dakota
[Click to enlarge...]

THE OLD-TIME POST OFFICE AT PEMBINA
By Charles Cavileer

Cavileer

I came here (Pembina) in 1851, in company with N.W. Kittson and others. After being here a few days Mr. Kittson asked me to act as assistant postmaster, he having been appointed postmaster some time in 1849. Joseph R. Brown was contractor to carry the mail from Pembina, Wisconsin Territory¹, to Crow Wing in the same territory, via Thieving River, at its mouth at Red Lake River, thence by land and canoe to Red Lake Village, making short portages, thence making short portages between small lakes to Cass Lake and then by the same order of travel to Leach Lake and so on to Crow Lake and to the end of the route at Crow Wing Village, which was the headquarters of the North-West Fur Company for all that section of the country claimed by the Chippewas from Crow Wing to Pembina northwest and northeast to Sandy Lake, and Fond du Lac.

The contract was a go-as-you-please, on foot, horse back, cart or canoe, anyway-to-get-there affair. The contract price for carrying it was $1,100 a year. Kittson, being postmaster, could not act as sub-agent. He appointed me as assistant postmaster, and I ran the machine until some time in 1853 or '54. I did all the business of the office, made the quarterly returns and deposit of funds due the department, attending to every detail of the office, which at that time was no child's play as every letter and package had to be tied up in wrappers, waybilled and addressed to its destination. St. Paul packages contained nearly all of Minnesota, Chicago, Detroit and east and west exchange.

An example of an 1868 letter with U.S. postage
sent from Red River to St. Paul via Pembina.
Source: The Minnesota Territory in Postmarks

Letter rates of postage ran 6 1/4, 12 1/2, 18 3/4, to 25 cents, according to distance, from 6 1/4 for short distances to 25 for 500 miles and over. Every letter and package had to be wrapped and addressed. Even single letters had to be wrapped and addressed to their proper offices. All wrappers had to be saved and used as long as they would hold together and an address could be put on without showing another.

But when it came to making out the quarterly reports the dance had just commenced. Every letter received and dispatched must be returned from the records kept on bills for that purpose, and it made a package about the size of a family Bible, and the footing up of columns with the amounts running from 6 1/4, 12 1/2, 18 3/4 to 25, was a corker. And right here let me tell you, with a feeling of pride, that I never had a quarterly return come back to me for correction.

Let me give you a sketch of the business at that early day, and the hardships and tricks of some of our carriers.

Lena Returns Home

I finally made it up to Hallock to visit my Aunt Lena yesterday.

It was a cold day, but bright and clear with an intense sunlight.  After about an hour's drive, Bill and I arrived  around 1:00pm at the Kittson Healthcare Center where Lena now lives.

We asked staff where to find Lena, then proceeded to walk down the hall to the end where her room was. Her door had a warning sign on it about being contagious and to wash hands if in contact.   I asked staff what that meant, and was told she had an extremely antibiotic-resistant bacterial infection of the bladder, and that if any physical contact was made, it was important to wash your hands.  I made a note to avoid physical contact, which was disappointing because I would have loved to hug her and be able to be hugged by her, but for now, it wasn't possible.

Walking in, I could see immediately she had a private room.  It was decorated with many photos, nic-nacs, and other  memorabilia.  Lena lay on her bed, looking up towards the ceiling.  She looked much like I remembered her, her hair still brunette and cut the same, her skin showing age, but the dark eyes and small features unmistakably her.