Visiting historic sites creates a connection

This is the time of year when people like to get out just to try something on a sunny weekend afternoon. For many this is the time to visit the graves of those who have gone on ahead.

But there are more markers than those in the cemeteries of the county. Since the early 1960s, the Kandiyohi County Historical Society has been marking (as funds allowed) places of significance in the growth and history of this county we call home.

Try getting acquainted with the background of this area in particular, and of Minnesota in general. Not too many people, proportionately, in this area have lived here long enough to really understand its background.

Just for starters, try visiting the markers along the Minnesota River which commemorate the events of the U.S.-Dakota War in 1862, part of which involved people and places now in this county. There are many who believe that this war was actually the forerunner of the years-long battle for the West.

Drive to Morton, then cross the river, turn left at the first intersection and begin to relive some of the history of this neighboring territory. Go to the Minnesota Historical Society’s interpretive center just about a mile or two away. A visit there will give you the background to better understand some of the things you will see and hear.

Go east on the road which leads to one of the battlefields. Markers on the road side will tell you what happened at each place. Visit Fort Ridgely. Find out what happened there.

Then go north on Highway 71 and follow the markers from the highway to a large area just covered with petroglyphs dating from a time before Christ was born. It’s another of the places which tell us of the people who lived here hundreds and thousands of years ago.

Then go looking for interesting places a little closer to home.

You’ll find historical society markers in all parts of the county. There are about fifty out there and all of them tell their stories. Pick up a guide book at the Society’s headquarters by the locomotive on display across from Foot Lake on Highway 71-23 on the north part of town.

Just going to the places in the guide book will keep one busy for quite a few summer afternoons, and you’ll begin to feel a real part of a very interesting county.

Kandiyohi County Historical Society began as war survivor group

The Kandiyohi County Historical Society is the oldest lay organization in the county, but it didn’t always go by that name.

The Kandiyohi County Old Settlers Association was organized in 1897 by some of the survivors of the U.S.-Dakota War, who felt the organization should be open only to everyone who had survived. When Atwater set up a celebration to mark the 40th anniversary of the first settler to build a cabin and make it his home in the new Kandiyohi County, all the known survivors were sent invitations to attend the festivities and, if they chose to do so, become charter members of the new organization planning to keep the memories fresh and to share them with each other at annual meetings. This was the dedication and sole purpose of the organizers.

 

While those annual meetings were open to all interested persons, the only people who could join the organization had to have survived the war.

Those meetings must have been really something. They usually lasted several days with attendees camping near the meeting site, because there was no facility in the county capable of housing as many people as attended. The railroads ran special trains from around the area to the meeting site. Programs consisted of musical entertainment, high-powered speeches and lots of storytelling.

In 1927, a large log cabin was constructed on the county fairgrounds as a memorial to all the early settlers.

It was dedicated by the Minnesota Historical Society, as a part of its 1928 Annual Tour.

The members at that time developed a museum, which was housed in the Memorial Cabin. The Cabin gave the society a base. The only problem was that it was open only four days a year, during the county fair. This did not keep the society from holding meetings at places around the county, however. They did fill a gap, but operation was difficult and a great deal of information was lost during that period. In 1940, the state of Minnesota gave county boards the authority to support the “recognized” historical society in each county.

Membership requirements were changed from being limited to all those who had survived the war, to all persons who had lived in the county for 30 or more years.

Things began changing in l962 when a new administration and leadership was elected to the presidency of the historical society. When there was an offer from one of the federal agencies, an application was filed and plans were drawn for a headquarters which could be opened year around.

Land for the building site was obtained and when the “go-ahead” came from Washington, the society really came to life. Active membership increased, visitors increased, and research increased.

The new building was formally opened in May 1969, and participation in all phases has increased dramatically. It is still growing. An addition was constructed recently.

The Society has served the county and its people for 116 years. This is not the time to stop.

Watching a sunset inspires invention

Would you believe that about 90 years ago a couple of young fellows took their girlfriends to a place on the banks of the Mississippi River to watch the sun go down in a glorious riverside setting? One of the girls must have broken the romantic spell when she said how beautiful the scenery was, and how much nicer it would be if cars had radios, so they could have music as they watch the fantastic sunset spectacle. That gave the guys something to think about very seriously.

The next day the two guys talked it over and decided they could just maybe solve that problem. It wasn’t very long before they had a finished car radio. They mounted the new invention in a Model T and took it to a radio show in nearby Chicago, where it drew a great deal of interest. The amount of interest it developed at the show led them to working with established manufacturers, developers and promoters to work the kinks out of their new radio and get it ready for market. There were enough kinks and other problems, such as how to mount them in cars, what to do to get the power to make them work, and you name it — they’d solved those problems and improved on them to their own satisfaction.

If you think that car radios came with Henry Ford’s first model Ts you’re sadly mistaken.

There were many steps between the young lady’s wish for a “car radio” and the first car radios to go into production. One of the big problems was giving their invention a name.

It came on the market in 1930 — a time when Victrola phonographs were near the height of their popularity. Notice the name? That was very popular, too, since nearly all sound entertainment of that late 1920s era used “ola” in the names of their products. The young inventors decided to follow suit — and that’s how “Motorola” for cars was born. Sales were slow. That car radio was expensive, especially for those years when the country was slipping into a serious depression. A person could buy one and try to install it himself for $100 ($3,000 in today’s dollars), which was one fifth the price of the car. It took two men a couple of days to do the job.

Several years later Henry Ford was selling cars with radios already installed. That quickly became the standard of the auto industry.

That’s the way it happened — all because one young lady wanted music when she watched the sun set.

Kandiyohi County is the same as it ever was

Here’s a condensation of an overall geological survey over a hundred years old, but so thorough that it is still accurate enough for normal usage.

Kandiyohi County is situated in the central part of the state of Minnesota, about midway between the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers.

 

The geographical center of Minnesota is about 60 miles north of the county’s northern boundary. It’s 94 miles from the eastern Minnesota border to the Wisconsin border line at Stillwater. From Minnesota’s southern border to the Iowa state line is 96 miles, and from the west side to the Dakota border it’s 60 miles.

From north to south Kandiyohi County spans six townships, each six miles square, and from east to west it measures four townships wide, giving it a total of 867.4 square miles, or 554,969.04 acres, of which 57,767.69 acres are covered with water.

Nearly half of the west side of the county is drained to the Minnesota River by the Chippewa River and Hawk Creek. The remainder of the county is tributary to the Crow River. In the southeast part Lake Elizabeth, the Kandiyohi lakes and Lake Lillian are the extreme sources of the south branch of this river. Toward the northeast, Green Lake lies in the course of the south fork of the north branch of the Crow River, and many smaller lakes discharge their surplus waters into that stream. Still farther northeastward the longer north fork flows through Roseville, the most northeastern township of Kandiyohi County.

Green Lake

Green Lake, nearly round and about three miles in diameter, is the largest lake in the county. Other lakes worthy of note in its vicinity and tributary to the same stream are Nest Lake near New London, Calhoun Lake, in Irving, each nearly two miles long, and Diamond Lake, in Harrison, of somewhat larger size. Lake Lillian and Lake Elizabeth, whose names are also borne by the townships in which they principally lie, are each about three miles long with quite irregular outlines.

A little farther west and apparently tributary to the south branch of the Crow River, are Little and Big Kandiyohi Lakes, and Waganga or Grass Lake, each about four miles long. A group of lakes north of Willmar, at the head of Hawk Creek, includes Foot Lake, Eagle and Long or Nevada Lakes which are from two to four miles long, and others of smaller size —Farther northwestward Norway Lake, about four miles long and of very irregular form, and Lake Andrew, about two miles long, with several other lakes as large as the latter, and many from a quarter mile to one mile in length or diameter, lie in Dovre, Mature, Lake Andrew, Arctander and Norway Lake townships, on the eastern margin of the basin of the Chippewa River.

Very irregular morainic hills, composed principally of till or the unmodified glacial drift, form a well-marked series in the north part of Kandiyohi County, being the eastern half of a remarkable line of these hills which reaches east-southwest more than forty miles from near the east end of Lake Emily in Pope County to Koronis or Cedar Lakes in Meeker County.

It is part of the great moraine formed by a lobe of the ice sheet, whose central current pushed from the vicinity of Lake Winnipeg and the Red River valley toward the south and southeast. This belt of hills enters Kandiyohi County at its northwest comer and through the north part of Norway Lake Township and the southwest part of Colfax Township; it averages three miles in width. These hills are 50 to 150 feet high, their highest elevations being a half mile north of the north end of Norway Lake,

Crow River

The continuation of this terminal moraine seems to be eastward in long hills teaching along the north edge of New London. East of the central branch of the Crow River, which flows through New London, this moraine rises into great prominence, and covers an area fully three miles square, lying on the north side of Green Lake, above which its hills are elevated 150 to 200 feet. The material of this whole range is till, with no considerable portions composed wholly of modified drift.

It is noteworthy that the large hollow occupied by Green Lake lies directly south of the most prominent group of hills in the terminal moraine in Kandiyohi County; that is, it lies where the ice was exerting its eroding power while these hills were being heaped at its margin, the date of their accumulation being before the recession of lee to the Dore moraine.

The mean elevation of Kandiyohi County is approximately 1,150 feet above the sea, with Gennessee Township (1,220 feet) the highest and Edwards Township (1,090 feet) the lowest general areas.

This county has a very fertile soil, and is unsurpassed in its agricultural capability the surface of the till and modified drift is blackened by decaying vegetation to a depth that varies from one to three feet, being usually about two feet.

There have been a lot of changes in the past hundred years, but that’s the way it used to be.

When President Lincoln came to town

Quite a few years have slipped by since Abraham Lincoln came to Willmar and, if memory serves, he will never come again. That visit was at the invitation of the Historical Society, asking him to speak at an evening meeting here. One can imagine how the society’s host felt when Abraham Lincoln came calling at his door at about 8:15 that morning. Trying to be a good host under those circumstances is usually quite a job. Not that time.

It turned out that just one phone call turned the trick. Lincoln was looking for something to do, and he really wanted to visit the lower grades here in Willmar. The phone call to the school authorities really got a favorable response. They only asked for an hour’s delay while they arranged things.

Meanwhile the Society’s host was trying hard to get everything oriented. Just meeting Abraham Lincoln was an unforgettable experience. He was tall (6 feet 4 inches) which gave him a height of over 7 feet, wearing top hat and boots which were so popular back in the 1850s.

This Abraham Lincoln was a descendant of the 16th president of the United States. That was enough to have made it easy to pass himself off as A. Lincoln, but it wasn’t enough for the Rev. Bruce Hanks of Pipestone. He could have easily passed himself off as the man he was portraying.

His head and face were almost direct duplicates of the real Abraham Lincoln’s. His hair was worn in the style his ancestor used. His facial features were nearly identical to those of the former president — right down to the wart on his cheek, which he had inherited from his mother, Nancy Hanks.

His voice was the give-away. Most people don’t know this, since there’s no one now alive who ever heard President Lincoln speak. Abraham Lincoln had a high voice, quite a bit above that of today’s average male.

The Rev. Hanks didn’t try to imitate the real Abraham Lincoln at any time, unless he was directly quoting or reading from one of his speeches. He felt it was his mission in life to let people see and hear his ancestor as well as he could do; at any other time he spoke in his normal voice.

While Hanks and his host were getting better acquainted, the school administration and faculty members had been hard at work arranging a schedule which would give every pupil in the first four grades an opportunity to see a descendant of Lincoln’s and hear about him as a father and an individual. Never in any of his presentations did he pretend to be Lincoln, but he gave his audiences the benefit of his years of study and research regarding the man.

At all of his appearances that morning the kids were seated in half-circles and were totally enthralled by the man who was telling them about his early life in the forests of Illinois.

That afternoon as he was walking down the street a little girl left her mother and ran up to him, greeting him with one of those smiles only children can generate and saying, “Remember me? I was in the front row.”

Late that afternoon, he spent several hours walking in the woods and preparing for his evening appearance. When asked about it he said that no two of his presentations were alike. They changed with the audiences and the questions which were asked in open question times at the beginning of each appearance.

His appearance that evening at what is now WEAC was successful those of that morning had been, and he took the opportunity to do a slide show of some of the many pictures he had taken of places related to Lincoln and his life.

It goes without saying that he was invited back to Willmar several times and made different presentations each time.

He moved from Pipestone to Milaca, and we lost track of him when he moved again — to Texas.

He is no longer with us, but the people who heard him interpret Abraham Lincoln will keep his memory alive.

The best man available wasn’t …

Here’s a story that’s been told many times, by many people, with lots of variations which just make story more interesting. It did really happen, with much of it taking place in this area.

Forest City was one of the earliest, if not the earliest community in Meeker County. It was also the the federal land office — the place where claims from a wide area had to be filed.

Mary Lobdell was born in the heavy forests of New York State. She was raised by her parents, particularly her father, so the whole family knew all the essentials about life in the woods, and their daughter was expert on life in the great outdoors. She hunted, fished and trapped as her contribution to the family’s lite far from civilization.

Her exploits were famous, and she lived up to her fame as a hunter by bringing as much as 150 deer, 11 bears and innumerable wild cats and foxes as well as hundreds of mink and other animals which were wanted for their hides.

On one of her hunting expeditions in Pennsylvania, she met a fellow who challenged her to a shooting match. If he could out shoot her, she’d have to marry him. She lost the bet and married the winner. It wasn’t long before she realized that she had married a drunkard and ran off and left him.

And that’s where our story begins.

She tried to track down her errant husband without much luck. Taking a big step, she started living and dressing as a man, a role she played so well that no one even suspected her gender. Her hunt took her far from New York and Pennsylvania, always without success. One version of the story has her working her way near the Mississippi River, and that one dark night the river boat on which she was sailing met and passed another boat on which her erring husband was employed. She continued working her way west, giving singing lessons along the the way. The very hard work was because she felt her quarry was close at hand.

In Minnesota, she worked in a large area stretching from around Lake Minnetonka to the Kandiyohi lakes.

She kept her disguise as a man, and used the name “LaRoi Lobdell.” The young lady was so successful in this role that one of her neighbors at that time later remembered her as a “hail fellow, well met,” and that had committed no indiscretions while living and working around the Kandiyohi lakes.

When her first winter in Minnesota approached, she began looking for shelter in earnest. A group of people from the St. Paul area had platted land for the capitol of the new state of Minnesota. They need someone to live on the property over the winter to maintain their claim. An older woodsman who was also looking for shelter for the winter applied for and got the job. He was told it could not be done alone, so he had to find someone to live with him there during the winter. LaRoi Lobdell, as she still called herself, moved into that cabin with the woodsman and they lived together all winter. He never had the faintest idea that his cabin mate was a woman.

Her disguise worked so well so easily that she became a little careless and someone guessed what she had been doing and reported her to the authorities. She was promptly arrested and spent some time in the Forest City hoosegow awaiting trial. When the territorial judge reached Forest City there was a quick trial. LaRoi Lobdell was found guilty of impersonating a man.

She served several months in jail until the district judge arrived to hold court. He could find nothing wrong with women wearing pants, provided they obeyed all laws (which she had) and didn’t disturb the peace. Her sentence was reversed, and she left Minnesota in a hurry. Nothing was heard from or about her for several years, until someone reported that she had been sentenced to life imprisonment in a Pennsylvania prison for shooting and killing a man. He wasn’t her husband.

Justice was working before we had sheriff, jail

It’s easy to guess that we’ll always be affected by crime to some degree in Kandiyohi County. That’s just human nature — and it’ll run the gamut from someone picking pockets to major crimes involving deaths. This is not said as a criticism of our law enforcement people. They’re doing their work 24/7, and deserve the thanks, respect, appreciation and cooperation of all the people of Kandiyohi County who live on the side of the law.

Crime came here just ahead of settlement, so it has been a part of the area’s growth and development for nearly a century and a half.

Before we had law officers and judges, and courts and jails, justice was working to make this county a good place in which to live.

Looking back on how they worked to achieve their goals, their accomplishments were very effective and spoke loudly of groups of people, in all parts of the county, who worked hard to maintain liberty and justice for all.

For example, a man who lived in the northeast part of the county was charged with cattle theft. The area’s self-appointed committee of judges investigated the matter and ordered him to be out of the county within 24 hours, never to return. He was.

That’s the way most cases went. Guilty pleas or findings by the “court” meant a fast trip to anywhere else or staying there making candles.

A man was sentenced to a year in prison. There was no prison so the Sheriff took the man under his wing and housed him in his own (the sheriff ’s) home. For months the prisoner shared meals with the Sperrys. That routine grew onerous to the Sperrys, and they were hoping against hope that their guest would go away. One day they left the key to the house lying on the dining room table while they would be gone. The prisoner was nobody’s fool. He saw the key, took the hint and to this day nothing has been heard from him.

In another case which took place shortly after the first real county jail was built in Willmar, there was a real, genuine jail break. In those days building a home for the Sherriff and his family was a part of jail building. In those instances the Sheriff ’s wife fed the prisoners along with her family.

The jail break we’re talking about here came about when two of the prisoners spotted the jail keys lying on the floor. They picked up the keys and walked out the door. It so happened that they were not familiar with Willmar so they just started walking west. They were disappointed when they reached the west edge of town and found only a wide open prairie.

That just wouldn’t do for an escape, so they started walking northward but were daunted by the woods they found there.

Giving up at last they walked back to the jail, arriving in time for lunch and for the Sheriff to put his keys where they belonged.

 

Chamber of commerce promotes community’s health and vitality

Commercial clubs and chambers of commerce are important to the lives of their communities, under whatever names they choose to operate. No matter what their names are, they have one major goal in mind — making and keeping their respective business communities very important parts of their home communities.

Willmar has had effective groups of business men and community boosters since the late 1800s. The names have changed but the health and vitality of what has become the City of Willmar has always led its agenda.

The current name of the local organization is the Willmar Area Chamber of Commerce.

Its goals have changed very little since it was formally organized as Willmar’s Civic Federation April 11, 1903.

It’s first president was the Rev. J. P. McCullough, while the Rev. A. N. Osterholm was elected vice president. Victor Lawson and G. P. Karwand became its secretary and treasurer respectively.

A year later the same individuals were reelected with the exception of the Rev. Mr. Osterholm, who became the president and H. C. Crawford who replaced Karwand as treasurer.

There is a strong possibility that it was organized to lead the “drys” in the ever-present battle against the local liquor interests. If that was the reason for the choice it was a good one because the Federation and its successors kept Willmar dry until very recent years.

The Federation also cooperated with all the organizations which were trying to improve Willmar and in making it a good place to live. One good example of the latter was the assistance rendered to the Women’s Improvement League which had been organized in 1902, and was trying hard to live up to its name. It was working to keep Willmar looking shipshape and welcoming, even going so far as to getting the streets in downtown Willmar graveled.

There weren’t many similar organizations in Minnesota which could boast of their own clubhouse. The Federation took over the second floor of the building which, in much later years became the women’s wear shop Chez Suzanne.

All the Federation’s meetings were conducted in the men’s section, with no women in attendance. Women were not permitted there, but the men relented to the point where they created a room especially for the ladies who met their men there, or for their own get-togethers.

It was, for many years, the town’s business and social center.

Besides a language, we inherited saying from England

Many Americans are prone to pick up any new expression they’ve just heard and start using it whether they know its original meaning or not.

 Many of these expressions have come from England and have real histories which we use correctly or not. England traces her history to around 950 A.D. so the language, which ran through a number of major and minor changes, has a very proud history, and we’ve picked up a lot of its nuances and run away with them.

Take “wake” for an example: our usage is far, far away from its original purpose.

Back in those early days, barkeeps served ale and whiskey in lead mugs. Aside from the weight, they carried a stronger “kick” than any legal beverage used here (and there) today. The lead-liquor combination knocked the drinker out for up to three or four days. The barkeeps needed the space those bodies occupied in their establishments, so they moved them out to the roadside in the hope that friends or relatives would take care of them.

Part of that “taking care” found family or friends sitting at or near a table on which the deceased had been laid, to watch for signs of life and see when, and if, the departed would “wake.” Same word — different usage.

A lot of the language that has been handed down to us deals with death.

Believe it or not, England was so old and has had so many people that, a long time ago, the British ran out of burial space. Being a practical nation, they took overcoming the shortage as just another job, and set to work opening graves and removing the contents to “bone sheds” for safe keeping. They’d take up the coffins, remove the bones and leave the grave open to wait for a new occupant. In the process they discovered that about a fifth of the coffins had scratches in the lids. Those scratches were made by people who had regained consciousness in their coffins after their interment — in short; they’d been buried alive. To prevent this they’d tie a string to the wrist of a corpse and run it out of the coffin and up to above mound, where it was attached to a bell. They were to watch carefully for any sign of life, so that grave could be opened immediately and the occupant brought to the surface.

Someone would have to stay at grave site all night. This was called the “graveyard shift.” The watcher had to listen closely for the sound of the bell. Anyone moving in the grave made the bell ring and became one who was “saved by the bell.” Else that occupant was a “dead ringer.”

People with money could afford mugs made of pewter, but they still died of lead poisoning. Tomatoes were especially dangerous so for 400 years they were not eaten in England.

Bread was divided by status. The family got the middle, while the workers got the burnt bottom and guests were served the “upper crust.”

In the 1500s, most people married in June. They had taken their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty nice in June. However brides carried a bouquet of flowers for the ceremony to hide any body odor. Ever since then brides have carried bouquets for their wedding.

Large tubs were used for baths. Men bathed first in the hottest and cleanest water. When all the men of the household had bathed, it was the women’s turn. Children came last. That’s how the saying “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater,” came about.

Floors in homes at that time were dirt. Only the wealthy had other flooring. That’s where the expression “dirt poor” came from. The wealthy, like everyone else, had trouble keeping their floors dry. Straw spread on the floor helped quite a bit, but when the doors were opened in the spring the straw and all floor coverings just ended outside on the open ground. To stop the floor coverings (thresh) from washing away they put low bars (hold) in the doorways and the word threshold came into being.

How many pigs is a hospital worth?

Canadian-born Edward Spurr Frost received his M.D. from the University of Pennsylvania’s medical school in 1861 then went on to study surgery at the Sorbonne in Paris and at the University of Heidelberg from 1867 to 1870. He had a friend who had just opened a general practice in Litchfield. Frost went there to tell his friend that he was ready to go to work. Time had changed things, however. Frost had been gone so long that his friend could wait no longer and had engaged a recent graduate to come to Litchfield to be assistant, so his invitation of several years ago was no longer valid.

Young Dr. Frost understood the situation and liked what he had seen of Willmar so he decided to settle there.

When he opened his practice he was the only surgeon within a 200-mile radius, which kept him busy.

He had, shortly after his arrival, contracted for the construction of a large, comfortable, building which would house doctors, who had moved into the area. He built facilities for caring for patients who were too ill to go home.

To make a long story short … his hospital wasn’t nearly as prosperous as he had believed it would be.

Dr. Frost had never practiced medicine outside of metropolitan areas. In such communities patients were accustomed to paying medical bills in cash, not with chickens, sheep, pigs and other animals.

Bills came due and had to be met, especially the payments on the mortgage. The time came quickly when Dr. Frost could not meet those payments and the mortgage holder needed the money due him.

The holder of the mortgage didn’t want to foreclose on the Frost house. Instead of foreclosing he’d take the portion of the building which had been used as a hospital in full payment of the mortgage.

The mortgage holder wasted no time in remodeling what had once been a hospital. His crews disconnected every possible item which had been used in the construction.

The disconnection took just a few days. What had been the hospital was transformed into into a number of dwelling units, and moved just a few feet south and west of its original location.

The Frost house remained the in the Frost family. There were three boys in the immediate family. One of them became an architect while the other two chose medicine as their way of life.

Several doctors merged their practices, but there were no more hospitals for surgical patents. There were hospitals, such as the Jacobs Rest Hospital located on the second floor of two of the buildings on Fifth Street between Litchfield and Benson Avenues and several located in larger homes around town. All of this created a certain amount of confusion. The confusion vanished quickly when Col. Cushman Rice gave the city funds for the creation of a hospital honoring his parents, A.E. and Sophia Rice.