Minstrel Show at Kittson Hall

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kittson County Poor Farm

Aerial Photo of the Kittson County Poor Farm

In the early 20th century, if you had nowhere to go, the choices were few. One of them was the "poor farm".
The Hallock Poor Farm was constructed in the early 1900s to meet the needs of just such individuals. Its construction and rules of operation were guided by state law, through each county’s board of commissioners.

It was built and began operations in 1909, and closed in 1937¹. Kittson County's Poor Farm had a capacity for 12 at a time, as of December 1913. The farm's land and buildings were valued at $7,900.00.²
To be more specific, the county poor farm provided a home for the homeless, needy, and sick, young or old. It was on an 80-acre tract located northwest of Hallock along the north side of the Two River. Mr. and Mrs. Erick Norland were the first managers. The residents of the farm who were able to work had a job or chore to do. The farm tried to be self-sufficient. Chores were plentiful as there were gardens, animals, and grain fields to be cared for, housework and cooking to be done, firewood to gather, and nursing care for the bedridden. Other managers were the Mons Andersons, Carl Carlsons, and Theodore Bengtsons.³

My own cousins lived there during the 1920s.  My cousin Jackie (Jones) Mananga-Zimmer is the daughter of one of them.  She recently shared with me about that difficult time for her family...

Shot in a Bagnio

 A typical brothel 'menu' around the turn of the century
- Click to see clear copy -
[Warning:  Graphic Language]

HEADLINE:  The Fate of a Hotel Proprietor at Emerson

Winnipeg, Man., Oct. 19, 1892 - John Wagner, proprietor of the Carney house¹, Emerson, Man., was shot in a bagnio a mile (south)west of the town last night. His body was taken to Pembina, where an inquest will be held tomorrow. The inmates of the house are under arrest in the Pembina jail. The murderess was Nellie Dunn, keeper of the house. She originally resided in Winnipeg. Wagner and others were in the act of battering down the door, when five shots were fired, one taking effect in the breast, from which he died in ten minutes. He leaves a wife and two children. The murderess is one of those under arrest at Pembina. Drink was the cause of the whole affair.

From the St. Paul Daily Globe October 20, 1892

For a more detailed description of Nellie and the event above, read the following recollection by an eye witness (courtesy J. Rempel of Halbstadt, Manitoba...)

Civil Alert Siren

Town sirens were part of everyday life when I was growing up. We didn't question why a siren would go off at noon, 6pm, and 10pm. It just did.


Now, many years later, I was recently reminded by Emerson resident James McClelland...

I was out for my daily walk on a beautiful fall day. It was approaching noon and just at the precise moment the Emerson fire Siren gave its daily noontime blast.

The blast was no sooner over when I heard the wail of the City of Pembina's fire whistle, three miles distant. I had not been outside at noon for a while and had forgotten about the Pembina wail. Over the years it was clearly heard in Emerson as I recall three times daily. I am not sure if it still gives its three timely signals, but they were noon, six pm and ten pm. At the time Pembina City had a curfew ordinance and this was the warning for all youngsters under sixteen, to get home.

I grew up on a farm five miles north of the border and if the wind was blowing right the Pembina Fire Whistle could be easily heard.

I decided to research it, and found out that there was more to it than we realised...

July 4th Parade

July 4, 1890 Parade down main street in Pembina, ND (courtesy of State Archives of North Dakota collection)

I have written about the Pembina July 4th celebrations of old here before. But I never knew St. Vincent also at one time had its own Independence Day festivities.¹

Below is a recounting of the 4th of July celebrations in St. Vincent in 1909, as recounted by one J. A. Noyes², Deputy Collector of Customs, for the St. Vincent New Era...

Where the parade began...

The Parade
(Kindly reported by Deputy Collector Noyes)

The Fourth of July parade as a part of St. Vincent's big celebration was a pronounced success. It was composed of various beautiful floats, several bands of calithumpians³, a number of beautifully decorated carriages and exhibits of farm machinery.

The procession formed at the school house and was led by Mr. President of the day W.J. Mason accompanied by Hon. Mr. Blethen, the Orator. These were followed by the Pembina band which dispensed patriotic music during the entire parade.

The Goddess of Liberty appeared next in the person of Miss Laura Billes being drawn by her Shetland pony hitched to the pony trap. This feature deserves special notice, as the pony harness, trap and the Goddess were all draped in white, the emblem of purity and presented a beautiful appearance.

The Columbia float came next. This contained Columbia, represented by Miss Margurette Cowan, who was surrounded by forty-nine young ladies and girls, dressed in white, each carrying a flag representing the states and territories. The flat was draped in white and drawn by four white horses, driven by Mr. A. Darrach.

Yes, this is a photo of the actual St. Vincent

Bank; written on the windows are the words,

"Farm Loans, Insurance, Real Estate..."

- Photo courtesy of the Gamble Family

Immediately following this came the float of the St. Vincent Bank, this consisted of a raised platform on a wagon beautifully draped with the colors of the day, carrying fifteen little girls dressed in white and laden with wreaths of wild roses; this was one of the beauty spots of the parade.

One feature of the calithumpians that attracted a great deal of attention was a dark complexioned couple, Frankie Buekly and Irvine Hanson, being drawn by a pony hitched to an outlandish low wheeled cart elaborately draped with wisps of hay and appropriate material. Frankie is deserving of much credit as we are informed the idea was his as well as the work of building and decorating the cart.

Mr.  was represented by Charles Kimberly, appearing in clown's costume, pushing a cart appropriately trimmed in green, and containing his little brother suitably dressed for the occasion.

Another pretty feature was six little boys, Harold Taylor, Jay Benuett, Sammy Lapp, Allen Gamble, Harvey Hanson, and Omen Dean, hitched to a finely decorated cart and driven by little Innis Taylor, followed by George Gillespie, Leo and Elmer Arnes, and Dicky Lapp as a body guard.

The colored band⁴ was another very laughable feature. This band consisting of Gordie Edkins, Dan and George Gooselaw and Roy Russell, under the able leadership of Percy Edkins will no doubt be heard from again.

Other featured of the celebration will be given next week.

Alas, I do not have access to the rest of the story; to my knowledge editions of the St. Vincent New Era for 1909 are not available, even on microfilm. But I'm thankful we could at least hear about this much; it opens a window into another time, a different way of life, and even some different ways of thinking (not all of them positive...) Thank you, Maggie!
___________________

¹ - Recently, I attended the Gamble Family Reunion, where one of the family gave me a copy of the "Maggie Book". I had seen it once before a couple of years ago when I met this Gamble descendant, Alice Jablonski; Alice had the book with her and let me take a quick peek. I could tell even from a glance that it was a treasure trove of information, consisting of clippings, mainly newspapers such as early St. Vincent New Era articles, concerning stories about family members but also area events. During the reunion Alice handed me a manila envelope of various items she wanted me to have, including a high-quality photocopy (many pages in color) of the Maggie Book. I was thrilled! This post came as a result of one of those newsclippings.

² - J. A. Noyes, the first Deputy Collector of Customs at the U. S./Canadian port of entry at Noyes, MN (named for him)

NOTE: The officers of the Custom House worked for the Collector of Customs. The Collector was assisted by the Deputy Collector, who was mainly responsible for the record keeping in the port.

³ - Calathumpian: Huge, spectacular event or performance. (Canadian archaic) Example: That was one calathumpian parade!

⁴ - "Colored Band", aka a marching band (often in black-face) performing minstrel type songs, now a relic of a time when racial stereotyping was acceptable entertainment.

BORDERTOWNS: Chapter 8

As he approached Joseph Grant's house that Christmas afternoon, Ian puzzled over the blanket-covered bay horse tied by the front gate. Cutting across to the rear of the house, he slipped from the saddle and led his horse into the barn, then returned to the house. Even as he extended his hand to rap at the back door, it suddenly opened. There stood a smiling Susan; she stepped outside, stealthily closing the door behind her. Turning, she flung herself at Ian, encircling his neck tightly. His arms closed around her waist. He swung her off her feet as they kissed.

Finally, lowering her, he reached into his pocket for a small package. "It's for you. Merry Christmas darling!"

Excitedly, she opened one end of the wrapping and a portion of gold chain fell out, followed by a small gold locket. "Oh,My! Ian, it's lovely." Turning it over, she noticed her initials. She looked up affectionately at him and stroked his cheek with her free hand. Then she turned to point toward the door. "Charley Brown is visiting Marguerite. Have you met him?"

"Not yet, but I've heard a lot about him. He's reputed to be quite a man." He noted gooseflesh forming on her arms and reached for the doorknob. "You'll catch a cold in that thin blouse. Let's get inside."

Opening the door, he stepped aside to allow her to enter first. Ian could hear voices from the front room as he removed his coat. Taking him by the hand, Susan led him in to meet the others.

She smiled as she proudly said, "Look who's here. It's Ian."

Pete, Joseph Grant and his wife Annette were sitting by the double front windows. Ian could see the two men had been celebrating, for each held an enameled cup in his hand. A gallon jug stood beside them on the floor. Susan's mother smiled. "Merry Christmas,Ian." Her smile broadened. "These two have a head start. They'll probably be asleep in another hour."

Pete's words came out in a slur. "Happy Christmas!" He grinned foolishly, and then waved to Susan. "Ne tah nish [daughter]. He comes to see you -- not us." He slapped his knees gleefully.

"Not your daughter . . . mine!" Grant looked to Pete angrily.

Pete rolled his head sorrowfully, "No matter."

During the drunken interchange Ian felt Susan's grip on his hand tighten appreciably.

Easing his grasp, Ian stepped toward the man seated opposite Marguerite. Offering his hand, he said, "I'm Ian McLaren, from Emerson."

The lawman stood to grasp Ian's hand. "Charley Brown, from Pembina."

Ian eyed the older man critically and judged him to be about thirty years of age. He had the size to be a sheriff -- about one hundred and ninety pounds, broad shoulders and a good six feet in height. He had a firm, square jaw, dark blue eyes and wisps of sandy, curly hair at his temples. His appearance was that of a placid, gentle man, but Ian had heard of his prowess when it came to breaking up fights with force.

"I've never been in your store. You're in partnership with Kabernagle, aren't you?"

"Yup. The sheriff's job came after I got out of the Army. It's an occasional job, but the pay is fair." He turned to smile at Marguerite. "Why don't the four of us play whist?"

Marguerite smiled at Ian, pretending to pout. "See, Charley is tired of me already. He wants a change."

Ian had intended to spend his time with Susan, but there seemed no alternative. He looked to Susan, who nodded her acceptance of the situation.

"Sure, why not?"

While Susan brought two chairs, Charley stage-whispered to Ian, "I brought the jug of cheer." He turned his head conspiratorially toward the two drinkers, "Gives us a little privacy." Both Susan and Marguerite smiled at his remark, apparently aware of his stratagem.

Drawing for partners, Ian was paired with Marguerite. The cut for the deal fell to him. The last card dealt was a diamond, making diamonds trump. Ian soon found Marguerite not only an excellent whist player, but also witty and knowledgeable.

As dusk approached, Annette brought a lamp to their table, and then went to the kitchen to prepare supper. When the girls arose to help their mother, Charley pulled two cigars from his vest pocket, offering one to Ian. Biting off the end, he questioned, "You're buying furs aren't you?"

"Yes. Thanks to Pete I'm having pretty good luck." As Charley leaned forward to light Ian's cigar, Ian attempted a nonchalant pose, never having smoked a stogy before.

"Watch out for McMurtrie at the customs house," warned Charley. "He knows a lot of furs are being smuggled across the line from Canada." He sat back, eyeing Ian dispassionately. "No skin off my back. It's not my bailiwick, but if he can prove you're buying Canadian furs, he'll make trouble, probably even try to seize them."

Ian took an instant liking to Charley, realizing his advice was sound. From what rumors he'd heard, the sheriff was scrupulously honest.

"I can't tell where the furs come from, I can only guess. I can't speak Cree; Pete does that for me. I expect some of the furs are from across the line, but I don't go out of my way to buy them. And I buy only on the American side of the border.

Changing the subject, he asked, "Have they found out who murdered that girl at Roseau?"

"No, but Constable Bell, of Emerson, suspects the transients living at Roseau Crossing. They all worked for the C.P.R. last year and one of them was a foreman named Brogan. They're all hard cases. Lordy! The sad part is that there are plenty of women out there glad to mix with them for money. But some cruel bastard had to grab a young girl, and then strangle her! Hell!" He shook his head. "The man must be deranged. If the Indians out there find the guilty one, they'll kill him sure. Then there'll be real trouble!"

Ian nodded, "I worked under that crooked-necked Brogan last summer. He's a cruel, sadistic man, always filthy dirty, with a mouth to match. I'll never work under him again. No man should have to take his abuse." He pondered, "I wonder how he got that crooked neck."

Charley nodded grimly, "I know the man too. He's caused me plenty of trouble in Pembina. It beats all why the railroad contractors hire men of his ilk. I'll never understand. Maybe they figure a bully gets more work out of the men. You know, I fought through nearly four years of the late war," He grinned, "even got me captured when I tried to steal some Confederate horses. I learned that you can push men only so far; you've got to lead them to get results."

He went on to tell Ian how he was transferred to Fort Pembina in 1870, quitting the Army in '75. He explained how he and Kabernagle had teamed up to build their store for the sale of liquors, tobacco and luxury food items.

Susan called them to supper, interrupting their conversation. There were only five to eat, since Pete and Joseph had both fallen asleep in their chairs.

While Annette carved the remaining meat from the well-picked carcasses of two geese, Marguerite set the table and Susan made coffee.

Seating himself, Brown studied Ian. It was plain to him that this boy intended to marry Susan. Perhaps not in the spring, but soon. The thought both revolted and shamed him, for although he was involved with Marguerite and felt comfortable with her, he could never marry her. Miscegenation was a horror to him. His boyhood training in West Virginia made a mixed marriage abhorrent, a hell, leading to genocide. He remembered the lecture his father had given him after catching him in a compromising situation with a young slave girl. "Birds do not mix! Animals do not mix! Human beings do not mix!" Those statements had been repeated over and over by his father as he thrashed young Charley with a heavy strap.

Knowing that he was being unfair to Marguerite left him with a feeling of guilt and regret, but somehow he could not cast her aside. Also, she seemed more than agreeable to continue their liaison.

When Annette questioned about the tragedy at Roseau Crossing, Charley explained, "We have to put up with the good and bad in these small towns. Each starts with one or two small shacks, finally building into a settlement. The trouble starts when the toughs show up. Up to now we've had little trouble in Pembina. It's been mostly petty thievery or the theft of a horse. Of course, this coming summer hoards of men will show up to work on the railroad. I expect there will be plenty of fighting and a few broken heads. Why, between the C.P.R. and Jim Hill's railroad, they're expecting nearly 2000 workers to show up.”

"It hardly seems possible," Ian mused. "Where will they find that many men?"

"Heck," said Charley, "they'll come from St. Paul, Minneapolis, Mankato and all over. It's said Hill is to build an engine house and track for 400 boxcars on that clearing just north of town. They plan on driving piling to cross the slough on the north end of the lake, and make a Y track further east to turn the trains around."

When supper was over, Ian volunteered to help Susan with the dishes while Charley and Marguerite moved quietly back to the card table. Annette discretely vanished into another room, leaving the couples alone.

Susan smiled at Ian mischievously as she turned the wick of the kitchen lamp down so that it emitted only a feeble light. Doing the dishes took an abnormally long time; their hands mingled together in the warm dishwater, then upon each other. They were careful to avoid the open doorway to the living room, but on one occasion Susan peeked into the room and grasped Ian's hand, pointing. Charley and Marguerite were tightly embraced across the small table.

It was late when Susan accompanied Ian to the barn for his horse. After tightening the girth on his saddle, he turned to hold her in his arms. She thrust her body firmly to his, burrowing her face into his neck. For long moments they held each other without speaking. Both were experiencing the same feelings of desire.

"I never believed I could love anyone as much as I love you," Ian spoke softly.

"I feel the same." Raising her head, she looked into his eyes. "Why do we have to wait?"

He kissed her gently. "I've got to find security for us. The railroad will be selling land this coming spring and I know the two quarters I want. When I get a house built for us, then it will be time."

She raised herself on her toes and pressed her mouth against his. Her arms tightened around him fiercely and she arched her body tightly against him.

"Golly, Susan. Don't do that! It's all I can do to keep from tearing your clothes off. You nearly drive me wild. We've got to wait."

She was still thrust against him, her abandonment involuntary. Then she murmured, "Let's not wait too long."

Groaning in his frustration, he released her and reached for the bridle of his horse. Leading the animal out of the barn, he stepped into the saddle and gazed down at her. Presently she turned and walked back to the house. It wasn't until he heard the door close that he nudged his horse into motion toward home.

How Prohibition Affected Us

Liquor running. It has a long history in our region.

As a result of prohibition in the United States, a chain of liquor warehouses was established in the Provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta. Stocks of liquor running anywhere from 30 dollars to 100,000 dollars worth were kept in these warehouses. People from the United States would come over and buy this liquor to take back across the border. They took it as far south as Omaha and retailed it at enormous profits. This went on in 1920, 1921 and 1922 and when it first started, men most engaged in it were young chaps from the United States out of the army. Two warehouses in Estevan, two in Bienfait, one in Oxbow and one in Carnduff, Carievale and Gainsborough. These warehouses were called 'Boozoniums'. There was terrific traffic from Canada to the United States.

Another interesting fact of this era is that the involvement of the druggists. Druggists gave liquor for medical purposes but you had to have a doctor's prescription. You could get all the prescriptions you wanted but each one cost $2.00. The doctors and druggists had a thriving business.

From - Rum-Running Days

Prohibition has its own history in Manitoba, also.

A regional liquor runner mentioned before here - Art Gould - was probably one of the fellows running liquor from the over-the-border warehouses down into the States...