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.

Curling Memories

Curling stone (or rock)
used in St. Vincent rink
[Courtesy:  Matt Cleem]

The curling rock (or stone) at left was recently shared on the St. Vincent Town Reunion Facebook page.  It brought out many memories from people who had grown up in and around St. Vincent, and had a connection to the St. Vincent Curling Rink...

Cleo Bee (Lang) Jones - I recall going to the St.Vincent curling rink with my uncle Laurence Turner when I was pretty young...

Trish Short Lewis - I was in the rink only a few times, saw a few older people curling.  I don't know if they ever had a warming house portion of the rink, but when I was there, it was always freezing on the bleachers in the front area, so I'd usually beat a fast path back to Grandma's house a block away...

Phil "Jack" Gooselaw - This we called a curling "rock" and may be one of the ones we used during the late 50's at the St. Vincent curling rink. My dad Manuel, Uncle Lewis Gooselaw, Dave Gooselaw and I had a curling team the last couple winters I was there prior to my graduation from high school (1960) and going into the Navy. As an aside, I was in the Navy for 2 weeks when I rcvd news that Dad had had a heart attack and passed away while throwing one of these rocks in a game (Feb. 1960)...

Delphine (Beaudette) Mundorf - Our Grandpa (Trish) use to curl. His team made it in the winning bracket and they came to Bemidji one year. I was so proud to watch my Grandpa curling. So exciting. I was quite young when Grandpa curled in Bemidji. I think they won and went on to state but not sure about that. Just know it was so exciting to watch him out there on the rink. I don't even remember for sure if he was the stone thrower or if he was one of the sweepers. But I think he threw the stone. I might have been around 12 then so would have been around 1950.

Judy (Turner) Ziesman - I remember when your dad passed away. I was pretty little, but I remember standing outside your house and talking to Denise and Debbie while everyone was in the house. Back then they would have the viewing at the house. I don't know how long after our family bought and moved into your house. My mom and dad always talked highly of Manuel [Gooselaw]. Sadly a few years later my dad passed away also. I think my dad was at the rink when your dad had his heart attack. I spent a lot of time at the rink.  I had my first lesson on that rink, they made it look so easy....little did I know!

Keith Finney - I remember the first time I curled. Herb Easter had a conflict so he could not curl one night. He gave me his shoes, broom and gloves and sent me to the rink. Almost put the rock through the end first time I delivered a rock. Herb forgot to give me instructions. :)

Dorothy (Giffen) Barber - I will never forget that night. Don was curling and saw Manuel when he threw the rock and slumped on the ice. He came home and told me about it. It was such a sad time.

Jake Rempel from Halbstadt, Manitoba shared: The Emerson Curling Club used to borrow the Rocks from St Vincent when they still had bonspiels in the shating rink in Emerson (right after New Year's). Lawrence Calder liked to tell the story of crossing the Border and as it happened an American from farther South was at the Customs and asked what they were? Curling Rocks. "What is Curling" It’s a game – you throw them 160 ft and see who can get them closest to the centre to win the game ! "Wow ! I would like to see the people that throw them!"

Betty (Short) Thorsvig had fond memories of hanging out in the rink; Jamie (Rustad) Meagher thinks her father also curled there.

St. Vincent Pastimes

Once upon a time, curling was a big thing in St. Vincent. My grandfather, Al Fitzpatrick, was a player and supporter of the local curling club. The rink was located kitty-corner from my grandparents' home uptown. It was also right by the town pump*, which you can see in this photograph. I did a bit of research on curling, and found out that around 1880, the same time period where there was a lot of homesteading in our region, that 'curling fever' swept (pun intended) across Canada and parts of the United States. Curling clubs sprung up all over. Many homesteaders to St. Vincent were from Prince Edward Island, which had a strong curling tradition. I'm sure that's a large part of why the rink was built. Emerson, which is right across the border from St. Vincent, continues to have a thriving curling club. In fact, some of the best curlers in the world have come out of Manitoba (an attorney from Winnipeg made an amazing play some calling it the best play they've ever seen, at the end of a match not long ago...) I just found out that the Mens' and Womens' U.S Olympic Curling Team is based out of Bemidji, Minnesota. They're right now at the 2006 Winter Olympics playing the best in the world. It's interesting to read how curling was (and still is) a large part of communities, keeping neighbors close and giving them something positive to do during the long, cold, dark days and nights of a northern winter... * My grandma showed me how to prime the pump, and then how to lift the arm up and down to get the water going; There were times when the water in the cisterns would run low, and she'd send me to fetch water down the street...

StVHS Sports: 1927/28

Vintage St. Vincent High School pennant from 1920s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PROFILES: My Grandmother’s Friends

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1950 Flood from the Air

St. Vincent during the 1950 flood, courtesy of William Ash...

View is from southeast looking northwest. To my trained eye I can locate and identify Short's Cafe, Friebohle's Garage, the Firehall, the Valley Church (which became an EFC church my family attended eventually), my grandparents' house, the curling rink, the old depot's stockpen and barn...and I notice there is no quonset yet, and the bridge over the river is not the one I grew up with, so I am assuming it was yet to be built sometime later in the decade.

Memories: Alan E. Wilwand

As a youngster growing up in Pembina, I had a second town - St. Vincent.

Wallace & Matilda Cameron's
Home during 1950 flood
[Photo:  Turner Family Collection]

My grandparents, Wallace and Matilda Cameron lived there.  I was crossing that old Red River bridge whenever I got the chance.  I loved my grandparents.  Grandma made the greatest date-filled cookies!  The house where they lived was north of Short's Cafe.  The house is gone now, but the memories linger on.  My grandmother was a seamstress and speculator.  She gave me the deeds to about half of the places that she had bought in St. Vincent.  Who knows?  I may own half of the town!

After WW II, my Uncle Ralph (Ike) Cameron worked at Short's Cafe.  He would give me those double ice cream cones, one side vanilla and the other cohcolate or strawberry, heaping the helpings.  Ma Short was taking a big loss on ice cream with those!

If walls could talk:  the
St. Vincent jail today...

I remember so many things about St. Vincent.  My Grandfather was the town constable.  I believe the old jail is still standing.  He gave me the big lock and key for it.  He also gave me the pair of handcuffs that he used.  I donated his daily log that he carried in his breast pocket, to the Kittson County Museum in Lake Bronson.  That diary saved his life the time that he was shot.  I believe the museum also has one of my paintings that I did of the old fire hall.  I remember the fire hall well.  This is where he set up his office once in awhile.  The depot that was established in 1878 was close by.  My grandparents' big barn floated down the Red River in the flood of 1948.

Small Town Girl Sports

Many years ago I was fortunate enough to have been able to
handle & read a 1928 copy of the St. Vincent School's annual
"Borderlines", copying several pages pertaining to my family

The piece below was written by Mike Rustad and and originally posted on my family's 'family' website, a website I created to gather family history to which I invited Mike to be a part of due to his love of local history and knowledge of so many area families that intersected with my own.

Mike shared this fascinating look into St. Vincent's past back in 2004; I am currently reviewing all content on an old site because it will be discontinued soon. Many great pieces of local history were shared there, and I intend to preserve it all in some shape or form. I invite you to share in this wonderful view to our past, this little 'time machine' to not only my family's roots but those that touch on the wider communities they lived in...

[And as Mike ponders, where DID those girls practice some of their sports? My theory is they shared practice/play space with Pembina, but that's just a working theory...]

This little essay was inspired by reviewing some old clippings about the St. Vincent girls basketball team that appeared in the 1927-28 school yearbook that can be found in the Lake Bronson-based Kittson County Museum. St. Vincent is today nearly a ghost town. First, a little background. Mrs. Dick Lapp's little history of St. Vincent notes that the towns was the oldest city in Kittson County from the standpoint of settlement. Mrs. Lapp writes that "[t]he history dates back as far as 1857, when Minnesota was still a territory. A trading post on the village site had been named St. Vincent in honor of St. Vincent de Paul, founder of missions and hospitals in France." St. Vincent was built up as a town that serviced Fur Company XYZ (what an unimaginative name!). She notes the town was a byproduct or expansion by the Selkirk settlers that founded Pembina. St. Vincent had the reputation of being a rough and tumble town. Mrs Lapp writes:

"Ox-carts were the first means of travel in this area. Norman Kittson enveloped the ox-cart enterprise. Later steamboat traffic became important not only to the village but to settlement of the community. As early as 1862, railroad talk began. In Winnipeg, Donald Smith thought the Red River needed a lifeline to the east. He took his idea to Norman Kittson, the president of the steamboat line which held a monopoly on the river. Kittson referred the matter to his silent partner, James Hill. Hill had a dream of reviving the bankrupt railway at St. Paul and latched onto the idea immediately. In 1878, his dream was realized. He saw the first locomotive arrive in Emerson, Manitoba from St. Paul. It was the Great Northern Railway and later known as the Burlington Northern. The customs office and depot were in St. Vincent until 1905 when they were moved to the Canadian border at Noyes. In 1900, a roundhouse was built, James J. Hill backed the project. It was located by Lake Stella, east of St. Vincent. A turning table was included that was used to turn the trains around. Charles Gooding was the first depot agent. John McGlashen was the first man to take a carload of horses through from St. Cloud to Winnipeg. He also operated a saloon".

Mrs. Lapp notes how vibrant the town was by the turn of the century. The fur traders were prosperous and started the first stores. She writes further:

"The first bank was established in 1880 by J. H. Rich, E. L. Baker and F. B. Howe. It was later sold and closed. J. R. Ryan operated a livery and sales and William J. Mason opened a blacksmith's shop and also ran a wagon and carriage shop. The Firehall was built in 1903 by Edward Cameron and his three sons. It was on main street, east of the Red River bridge and housed fire engines run by steam. The Firehall was pushed over in 1972, the town hall demolished and a new hall built on original site of depot."

Mrs. Lapp notes that the first teacher in the St. Vincent School was none other than Eliza Moore.  The first schools in the county were on or near this village. Lapp's sure-footed history records that it was "Eliza Moore, then age fifteen, taught all eight grades in a little one room school in the west end of town. She told stories in later years of the Indians riding their ponies around the schoolhouse and looking in the windows and frightening her and the pupils. The present school was built in 1903. It was a square two-story white frame building and originally housed all the grades from one through twelve."

Eliza Moore continued to teach in St. Vincent when I was a student in the 1950s and 1960s. I thought of her as an Ancient Mariner or School marm. Mrs. Lapp gives her great credit for the development of the school in St. Vincent. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Prof. Moore was a big part of the St. Vincent school. Other St. Vincent teachers from my day included Maribel Berg, Velma Isley and now my memory so many decades later becomes fuzzy. I think Simeon Cameron was the school cook. [Note from Trish:  I also had Mrs. Berg & Mrs. Isley as teachers at the St. Vincent School, and Simeon Cameron was still the cook while I attended...] 

Now, let's fast forward to 1928. The town of St. Vincent in its heyday had a hotel called the Northern Hotel. It also had saloons, stores, a jail, fire station, curling rink, etc. However, the jewel in the crown was the St. Vincent School. The School field both boys and girls teams for basketball, track. tennis and baseball. I think that the social history of girls' sports is largely a lost memory. I want all of the readers to think of the St. Vincent described by Mrs. Dick Lapp. There was a vibrancy. It was 1928 only a year before the Great Depression was to cause the citizens of St. Vincent great economic and personal turmoil. The Great Depression which was to begin in 1929 decimated St. Vincent. Mrs. Lapp blamed the Great Floods of 1948 and 1950 and she may be right about the factors leading to the dissolution of vibrant St. Vincent. I think that the Great Depression might have played a role. Mrs. Lapp lived through the Great Deapression and both floods. I was a baby during the Flood of 1950. I digress. Fast forward to the 1927-28 school year. The school was the center of town life.

The St. Vincent School had a strong (women's) basketball team consisting of Mamie Cleem, Isabel Fitzpatrick, Lelia Davis, Fidessa Wilkie and Alberta Fitzpatrick. The Girls' Basketball Team of 1927 is pictured during the first game of the season. The first game for the girls was held on December 4, 1927. I found the school yearbook to be amusing. Isabel is pictured as tall and lean and quite attractive in a picture taken during the first game of the year. In the back row, there is yet another Fitzpatrick named Fern. The name is alternatively spelled Fern or Ferne. Ferne was the starting Left Forward on the team and had the nickname of Coon. Isabelle was known as Issy or at least that's what her teammates called her. Issy was apparently the team's star ball handler and dribbler and played at the right guard position. What's so puzzling to me is that there appears to be 6 players on the starting lineup for girl's basketball. Issy was at the Right Guard position Fidessa Wilkie or Fido was at the Center Guard and Verlie Cameron or Plug was at the Left Guard. The nicknames for the girls were not exactly comely or feminine names. I was impressed with their apparent fitness and competitiveness. Every girl had a nickname. The Center Forward, Mamie Cleem, was nicknamed "Slivers" There was Coon (Ferne) at the Right Forward position and Lelia Davis or Lee at the Left Forward. Isabelle or Issy played Right Guard. Fido was at the left guard. They were spelled by substitutes Verlie Cameron (Pug), Violet "Cutie" Cleem and Mae (O'Leary) Gamble. Eileen Twamley also played on the team. I assume she was the sister of Merle Twamley who was the patriarch of the large Twamley family we knew growing up in Humboldt and St. Vincent.

The other sports stories about the girls basketball team of 1928 mentions the injuries the girls sustained and how they played the game. Isabelle, for example, jammed two fingers, and was hurt in the game with Stephen. St. Vincent beat Stephen 21 to 16. Issy continued to play despite having sprained fingers. She was not the only girl to be injured. Coon's leg was twisted and the game delayed. She limped through the end of the quarater and could not continue. She was replaced by "Cutie" Cleem. In that game, Mamie "Slivers" Cleem was the superstar scoring 12 of the 16 points and playing like a champ. St. Vincent beat Stephen! I don't ever remember Humboldt-St. Vincent beating Stephen. St. Vincent beat Stephen at the game held in St. Vincent. Does anyone remember where the games were played? I think that the Boy's Teams were played in Pembina. It may be that the games were played at Pembina's gym. St. Vincent played Pembina February 8, 1928. The Game ended in a 10 to 10 tie. In the Stephen game, St. Vincent's star players missed key free throws while Stephen made their shots. St. Vincent took the win because of their better outside shooting. In the Pembina game, the game game had a number of hard fouls against the St. Vincent girls. Issy Fitzpatrick had a key personal foul levied against her. A technical foul was called on Fido Wilkie. Slivers was hurt in a hard foul and knocked against the back wall and then to the floor. There were officiating disputes in all of the girls' games or there was a hyperactive imagination on the part of the St. Vincent sports writers. In the return game with Stephen at Stephen held on January 20, 1928, the St. Vincent team made baskets that were not counted. The home town (Stephen tilted) referree ruled that when Slivers made a basket, it did not count. When Coach Dick Lapp objected, he was told that the basket did not count because of interference. Lapp retorted, "Interference, YES, BECAUSE ST. VINCENT MADE THE BASKET."

The third quarter of the Stephen game ended in a 14 to 14 tie. In the fourth quarter, a St. Vincent player named Mae Gambel or O'Leary went into the game replacing Issy Fitzpatrick. That substitute was not a wise choice as then Stephen made four baskets and St. Vincent only two to round off the game which ended "18 to 22, in Stephen's favor." In the Pembina game, Cutie Cleem substituted for Coon. Apparently, the ref called a foul on Cutie for chating with someone on the team so a technical foul was called.

I was wondering whether anyone knows additional facts about any of these colorful girl sports heroes from the late 1920s. St. Vincent was a great sports town with a full array of girls sports during the 1920s: basketball, tennis, softball or kitten ball etc.

I responded to Mike's post by saying:

Wow, Mike! Keep the stories coming, sports-related or otherwise! You really bring St. Vincent alive for us. It's really neat to hear about the history of where I grew up. I wonder what other source material there might be out there that would have information about the town's life? I'd love to hear more about the merchants, who owned what, what the saloons and hotel, etc. was like, the background of the town's politics, etc...even the gossip of the past. Any ideas anyone?

My cousin Delphine Mundorf responded:

Alberta Fitzpatrick as you may know from other postings is my mother. I was surprised about her name mentioned here on the basketball team. I guess she has mentioned it to me but her biggest thing she talks about is playing tennis. She says she was very good at tennis and she and her partner did so well they had a chance to go to the State tournament. However that cost money and her folks didn't have the money to send her so she never got to the state competition. I believe she felt she was good enough to maybe have become a pro. The Fern you talk about is mom Alberta's & my aunt Harriet's first cousin. I met her several times as she lived in Crookston when I was a child and we usually stopped to visit her whenever we went to St. Vincent to see my grandparents. My mother is still living and will be 92 in July. To my knowledge she has outlived in age all her family. They all had longevity but most of the elders died in their late 80's.

Mike Rustad then commented:

Alberta was in fact a member of the St. Vincent tennis team. What this demonstrates is that the St. Vincent girls program was fully developed. The girls did not play football or hockey in the late 1920s, but every other sport. The point was that the town followed these teams. I find it amazing that St. Vincent played Neche, Cavalier, Stephen, and towns that were much bigger. I wonder where St. Vincent played their hockey games. Jim Gooselaw, Fred Stranger, Allen Smith, Roy Clow, Manuel Gooselaw, Cecil Smith, Bill MacKay and Ralph Cameron were on the school's hockey team. I have no further information. I think that if I were to get back to Lake Bronson that I could find a great deal more about the St. Vincent school. One of the problems I have being in Vermont is that I don't have ready access to these materials. Maybe one of you could do a field trip to the Kittson County Museum and make some copies of the St. Vincent materials. Another great source would have been the Pembina Museum. I am not referring to that antiseptic boring museum today, The old museum had tremendous numbers of artifacts etc. I asked someone what happened to that stuff and was told that the State has it in storage in Bismarck. What a waste. I think a fellow named Barron had his own private museum in Pembina. [Note from Trish:  Mike is right in this - it was Elmer Barry, and his private museum became the basis of the old Pembina Museum!]  I bet he had tons of stuff on St. Vincent. The shame of having this lost history is that everyone is now deceased or very old who attended St. Vincent High School. We have only fragments to draw from. We must be like archaeologists in trying to construct social history from such scant data. I think who we are is deeply rooted in our history. Going back to far in history for wisdom is like ox-tail soup. It's going back too far for a good thing.

Delphine Mundorf again commented:

My mother as I mentioned is now 92. She & I believe 3 other boys were the only 4 to graduate from the St. Vincent High school all others transferred to Humboldt I believe. I wish I had pd. more attention to Mom's stories but not being a historian I didn't. But I think Mom, Fred Stranger, and a Smith boy & one other graduated from St. Vincent High school. The rest transferred but it cost a tuition to do so & these 4 parents didn't have the money for it. So Mom wasn't going to finish school. One morning she came downstairs and found her mother crying and when My Mom asked Grandma why she was crying Grandma said because I only had a 3rd grade education and you have a chance to graduate and aren't going to do it. So my mother called the boys and asked them if they would be willing to go back to school and they agreed so they showed up in Prof.¹ Good's class. Mom said he was so happy to see them he got tears in his eyes, Moms favorite thing she used on us kids was that we better do good in school because she was valedictorian of her class. I wasn't til later we found out she was only 1 of a class of 4, no wonder she was valedictorian. Ha Ha. She also has told me that the professor was so glad they came back to his class that he offered to help each one of them should they decide to further their education. She then went on to Minneapolis and went into nurses training but at her time it didn't cost to go to nurses training you worked some of your education so got the room free and got pd. $12 a month. She made it through the 3 yrs. to become a registered nurse but was never able to take the state boards. Her story all these yrs. was because it cost $12 to take the board exam and she didn't have the money to pay for it nor did her parents. I always asked her why didn't you contact Prof Good since he said he would help any of you. To go through the whole training then not take that final exam to get you certificate is such a waste. She just said Ya I suppose I could have asked him. However I have since very shockingly found out there was a a whole other reason why she never got that final exam.

¹ - The use of "Prof.", short for "Professor" was curious to me, since I had only been familiar with it in association with teachers at a university or college level, but here it is used with teachers at a secondary level. I did a bit of research, and it appears to have been common at this time...

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).

Like the Back of My Hand

I dream about it.

I've dreamt about my hometown all my life, but the older I get, the more I dream about it. I see the old home, the old trails, the hideouts, the town characters, the cracks in the old sidewalks that the town laid many years ago when it was once proud and up-and-coming. I see the interiors of homes I haven't been in, in years, and the people that lived in them, talking to me like it was yesterday.

When I'm awake, I can imagine it just as clearly.

it's still there the memories are strong tins cans crisco cans raspberries gardens straw hats belts chokecherries bread canning cowboy cookies and teaspoons tea Sunday dinners with Grandpa and Grandma leaf piles nuisance ground hands out of car windows whipped by long blades of sharp grass Canadian geese honking won't be long now fires burning pastures mowing gardens plowing bed making hospital corners dumping the pot porches and slop pails screen doors slamming on the way to Toots' house PK gum and rolled chins tall imposing steps old persian rugs pianos and women talking playing alone imagination running wild looking up through tree branches wind kissing cheeks tasting milkweeds playing house mud pies bugs barn spiders haylofts Dusty Smoky prairie roses peonies in water veined hands crocheting Dad's hands on Mom's legs cattails in kerosene floods trains trips cousins driftwood hospitals piano lessons dreams horses bicycles freedom washing dishes and Star Trek books on shelves discovering new worlds wallpaper transister radios late in the night Macabre Theatre door creaking no borders everything possible no worries love always love changes but it's still there the memories are strong

overalls wide paintbrushes kerosene cleaning tree swish swosh swish swosh bark stained with years of paint leading down a path to a pet cemetery and Hawkeye and Chingascook can I be Chingascook today Popeye shared bathwater Iten's water service cisterns graindoor sidewalks hand-me-downs Outer Limits ceiling grate peek nightmares slanted ceilings that certain smell as I press my nose against the window screen noon 6pm 10pm town whistles county fair quonsit hut blue ribbon jam Egg Pants Tonto George's general store from another time Friehboldt's Garage dime fridge pop swinging from the gas sign Dad filling up Old Man Friehboldt checking the oil exploring behind discovering old jail bars ghost firehouse horse-pulled truck curling rinks town pumps Bordnick's farm equipment cacophony vs. Hughes' livestock menagerie potato bugs canning wringer washer hanging reaching pinning squinting gathering folding the smell oh the smell crisp stiff alive tarp paper garages anti-anti-I-over¹ scared running laughing screaming late Sunday night meetings jumping off church steps hide 'n seek around the church in the fall cold running until we see steam rising off our skins in the moonlight breathing so deep sore throats in the morning no regrets alive so alive so young was it all a dream

Memories rush over me one to another...

silver threads among the gold rope swings I dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair Grandpa napping on the porch Grandma making pound cake with that broiled coconut brown sugar butter topping in the kitchen bike riding down the center of main street look no hands discovering hidden paths back alleys abandoned house begging to be explored the river always the river bridges looking down wondering what it would be like to jump scared yet excited floods dikes sandbags moving away until the water goes down taking the army 'duck' through the waters to the parked cars marooned at the junction Sunday afternoon drives to nowhere cousins dropping in food laughter catching up part of something bigger roots family history cobbler aprons long hair in buns large hands in bread dough warm arms wrapping themselves around you feeling like you are SO special because you are loved so loved those capable arms and legs that love you sucumb and it's your turn to be strong for them wheelchair cat's-cradle those last years together end too soon and you're weeping at the coffin bending over kissing cold lips not caring what anyone thinks feeling for the first time real loss Grandma I will miss you so much you are my best friend remembering sleeping with her, breakfasts of cocoa and brown sugar toast only she makes that special smell of her body as you snuggle with her at night after Grandpa is gone and she's alone Grandpa who gave you pink peppermints whisker rubs and called you his little girl Grandpa who napped on the porch age made no difference they were love

McCall's (Henniman's). Skogmo's. The Spot. Dick's Corner. The Hartz Store. The Tastee Freez. Coast-to-Coast hardware. Ice rink on the banks of the river, lights strung overhead. The dam. South Pembina. The airport. The [old] museum. Crossing the Red, then the Pembina. Ukranian church dome. Old 81. Old Pembina with the vines growing up the side of the old Methodist Church. Ancestors' rocking chairs in the museum...the old museum that seemed like a treasure chest of old area artifacts. Many a summer was spent touring the row upon row of exhibits, taking in as much as possible. Imagination working overtime wondering who the people were that once owned that dress, that gun, that book. So MUCH stuff that each display area was a mini Fibber McGee open closet. Even the walls were covered with treasures all the way up the the ceiling. The Park nearby had a monument towards the back, almost hidden by the now older trees. The white pyramid-like steps led up in the center to a pillar. Names and a dedication, barely legible, told of a war to end all wars, and the local boys that wouldn't be coming home again. I would climb that monument thinking it was magical, touch the white stone, rough and hot in the summer sun. Who were these people who were just names now, I wondered as a child. I was in awe of someone who would sacrifice so much. Bike home over the bridges, daring to stop and look down to the river below. Such a long way it felt, and sometimes there would be a pull in the back of my mind to jump...jump! A little thrill would run up my spine at the thought mixed with incredible fear. I almost drowned once. I was with my mother and her friend Glennis Friebohldt at the Emerson pool on a sunny summer afternoon. I wandered away from the wading pool area. I was little, but could see more people were having more fun in the big pool. I wasn't afraid to try it. I tentatively lowered myself over the edge into the pool, intending to hang onto the side. But the pool was very busy that day, many jumps, splashes, and waves. A wave caught me and lifted my body, and I panicked. My hand slipped, and before I knew it, I was floating away from the edge, I couldn't grasp it, and I was sinking...I was scared, but at the same time, as I went below the surface, I kept my eyes open...I was facing up, looking up, seeing the light above me grow smaller as I sank...The next thing I knew, I was laying on warm cement, coughing up water...Glennis was there. She had seen me as I began to sink and dived in and rescued me. Years later, despite still not knowing how to swim, I love water, and remember that day, and how peaceful it seemed. A few moments of panic, then quiet...

¹ - Ante Over (also Andy I Over; Andy Over; Annie, Annie Over the Shanty; Anti-Anti-I-Over; Nicky-Nicky-Nee).

This old and popular boys' game requires a building over which the ball is thrown. In the gymnasium a curtain is often stretched across the center.

The two teams take their places on opposite sides of the building. A player of Team A calls "Ante Over" and throws a softball over the building. The Team B players attempt to catch it. If someone succeeds, he and his team mates dash around the building and the player holding the ball attempts to hit one of the Team A players, who may take refuge by running around the building. If he succeeds, the hit player joins Team B. and the ball goes to Team A. If no one catches the ball when it is thrown over the building, the side doing the catching calls "Ante Over" and the ball is thrown back. The side wins which has the most players when play ceases.

In some sections the boys call "Pigs tail" if the ball hits the building and bounds back. It is then thrown over again. (Mason and Mitchell, "Active Games and Contests", 1935) - From Hard at Play: Leisure in America, 1840-1940