If history is written by the victors, it was the case at one battleground site in North Dakota. For all the years I’ve lived in North Dakota, I’d never visited the Whitestone Hill State Historic Site near Kulm. We went yesterday (09-14-20) for the expressed purpose of seeing it. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day as far as weather - 60s, sunny, breezy, no bugs. Right beside the site is a nice blue water lake and we sat eating our picnic lunch under cottonwood trees where we liked listening to the rustling of the leaves in the breeze.
And sometimes it’s good to be where there are no other people, which was the case here. Except for a friendly, young site supervisor named Stewart, no one else was there. We asked him if there are many visitors, to which he replied, “Some days there might be three cars.”
At the top of the hill a tall monument stands and around it there are 20 stones, each listing the name of one of the troopers killed. This is where history being written by the victors comes into play. Very little indicates the death of hundreds of Indians or 150 taken prisoner or the tons of winter supplies destroyed. I asked Stewart about the near-absence of Indian commemoration, and he said there was a small one. I didn’t go back up there to see if he meant the one made with a couple rocks, but there is a small bronze plaque at the base of the hill. Bronze weathers and the inscription on this one could hardly be read. He said there are plans for some updating of the site, which of course it needs to bring it more into line with modern proclivity.
Stewart told of a group of Indians who’d come on horseback in a ceremonial gesture of forgiving, and he thought they planned to return in the future. I presume it was them who’d tied the medicine bundles to the flagpole. The site will be open yet through October and a trip to it could prove satisfying for the historically curious, as it did for us.
I confess to never traveling in that little region of the state so seeing everything was a bit of an education. The little town of Merricourt stood on County Highway 2 and was included as a ghost town in the interesting website, “Ghosts of North Dakota.” Whether or not anyone lives there couldn’t be determined with our brief stop, but at one time it did command a little business.
A brick-fronted building on which a weathered sign told us it was once a bank had cashed in, its roof collapsed. Across the highway two large grain elevators stood and at first glance still looked serviceable, but no, they weren’t. A large community hall looks quite good, but doesn’t seem to host gatherings any longer we decided by seeing the weeds grown around it.
I looked online for a little of its history. About the only event was a robbery and a shooting one time. A wannabee prize fighter came to town and became friends with the local moon shiners. This gang decided to rob the store but were soon apprehended. When the sheriff was taking the boxer to the Ellendale jail a fight ensued inside the car, and the sheriff shot and killed the prisoner.
We drove on passing through LaMoure on Highway 13 where some community beautifiers had worked hard at creating a wow factor lining the street with large planter pots filled with petunias. They were the biggest planters I’ve seen. Well, we kept rolling and wanted to drive through Sheldon before the day was done.
The town fathers had set about demolishing the old bank building since it too had cashed in, a fact which further shrunk the length of main street. Now only two old brick buildings stand. They are both still in use, but more than likely will meet the fate of the bank someday. I inherited an old picture of Sheldon’s main street that shows many businesses lining both sides of the street. Now so little remains. The brick schoolhouse met demolition not long ago, so its familiar face no longer greets the old students passing by. It’s like the author of the Wizard of Oz said, “Everything has to come to an end, sometime.”
No comments:
Post a Comment