Clearing the Desk

Not being able to foretell the future, I’m left with two other choices: live in the present or search the past. As long as my belly is full, there’s little to say about the present. Digging up interesting history that occurred in and around my home region best suits me and begs my attention. Little tidbits of facts and occurrences have accumulated on my desk and listing a few of them here as stand-alones is the best way to deal with them.

     We need to go to the Pembina area for this one, where it’s reported the birth of the first white child occurred in 1807.  Trappers and traders up there included quite a large number of Scottish men. The father of this baby hailed from the Orkney Islands off the coast of Scotland where he and a lady from the same location met one time too many. Then he skipped out to search for a livelihood in North America, leaving the girl behind. She followed, found him in the Grand Forks area, but met rejection. He denied any responsibility for support of the mother and child, and she was forced to return to the Orkneys. Of course, a mystery of how she financed her travels remains;  it’s a story I can’t finish.

     A recent column dealt with the establishment of Dakota Territory. In order to set the gears in motion, Governor Jayne ordered a census count so he could draw district lines and name the first representatives to convene in Yankton.  Six census-takers rode north as far as Pembina and westward to wherever inhabitants could be found.Their count totaled 2402 whites and mixed bloods. 

     There may have been more, but Metis and other half-breeds were out hunting and couldn’t be found. Since then we’ve found a report where one of the large hunts saw 620 Metis hunters plus women and children totaling over 1600 people on the trail. Couple that with the official census and note how the numbers change. Remember the huge prairie fire that killed about twenty Metis at Fort Ransom? They were a hunting party coming in from the James River to the west.

     Sometimes simple answers and conclusions stare me in the face but don’t get recognized. Take the short life span of the military’s Fort Ransom, for instance. Built in 1867, it lasted only until 1872,  then was relocated to Fort Seward near Jamestown. 

     The Enderlin Jubilee Book of 1966 gives an account of this time. In 1853 a former army engineer named Isaac Stevens led a survey through the area but was said to steer clear of crossing rivers whenever he could, thereby drawing a “ridiculous route.” In the absence of other information to the contrary those in charge thought his maps should be followed when building the Northern Pacific. From the Stevens’ map, they presumed the NP mainline would go through the Fort Ransom area and work crews would need protection.

     That’s the point I never fully grasped, the fact the tracks were being laid near Jamestown made the existence of Fort Ransom unnecessary.

     The writer(s) of the jubilee book included The Ransom County Immigration Association with a paragraph that makes me want to learn more. They mentioned that its head Edward Pierce “boasted of bringing 200 farmers to the area in a single year.” Ed Pierce built the finest house in Sheldon, and, even though somewhat worse for wear, it still stands. I remember being invited for a small gathering in the house one time and being impressed with its beautiful woodwork. The history of the association has been obscured somewhat by the passing of years, but it promises to be worthwhile to start digging up.

     My desk sets beside a large window facing the street where a menagerie of dogs of various sizes and colors parade each day.  After dog owners day at work is finished, here comes a large white dog with a dyed pink tail, one that pulls at its leash so hard that the walker runs to keep up, another who won’t lead and looks like it’s being pulled, and the best of the lot, a chihuahua who rides by each day looking out from a baby carriage. Others are more nondescript. 

     One more topic on my desk will not be cleared off until it finds words for its unique story.  In fact, while watching dogs through my window, it will be the next one. “Devil or Angel” will tell the story of a dancehall madame who started her career in Winona across the Missouri River from Fort Yates. Eventually she relocated on the west side of the river and became a rancher who the attorney general Bill Langer hauled into court for cattle rustling. She was also the community’s first responder, attended many births in the community, and was mourned by many when she died. Let the writing begin.