City Hall and Newton's

 While cleaning out some old crowded files, we ran across this postcard received in 2012. It brought back a flood of memories to this Sheldonite. The old town hall was the center of our lives for a long while. We played our basketball games in there, acted in our class plays, marched to graduations on its stage, attended school carnivals, two-stepped and waltzed at public dances, roller skated, and so much more. Bobby Vee who went on to international stardom played there with his Shadows once, but I remember feeling bad that so few attended.

Next door the building I knew as Newton’s stood where we could buy so much and haul our cream cans, buy chicks, feed, and twine. It went through different phases as a newspaper office and hardware before Newton’s operated their business in it. George and Marlene Bunn ran their business in it for a short time, but, alas, the farm population had declined too much to support it.

Sometimes I’m given to fits of writing poetry to commemorate some occasion, and here is one titled “City Hall Fell.” 

October 10, 2005

Bewildered ghosts rose

amid bird-flurry

the day city hall 

fell. Heavy steel hands

punched and clawed the bricks

until they succumbed.

Standing there, watching,

one could hear ancient

amalgams of echoes

choking in the dust

as the roof and walls

fell. With their sanctum

destroyed they whispered

their final good-bye.

The Developing News Desert

At one time we took for granted a daily newspaper would be delivered to our rural route

mailbox, except Sundays, of course. Our mailman announced his arrival on the gravel road with the sight of a big cloud of dust; with a long route, he wasted little time. The newspaper he brought provided entertainment and information for the whole family. Unfortunately, times changed and the daily presses cut back drastically. Now much of the news is delivered digitally  and if the person isn’t computer literate they are left to rely on radio or tv broadcasts.

Many times I have heard someone bemoan the fact of not being able to hold a daily

newspaper and read at their own pace. A newspaper left on the kitchen table could be picked up and reread later in the day. As for weeklies, counties have lost some local government and news coverage when a newspaper office has locked the doors and turned out the lights. 

We’re fortunate in Ransom County because two papers print with your choice of digital or paper on a weekly basis. Two counties in North Dakota, Slope and Sioux, have no newspaper, and twenty-seven counties have only one.

Through the years several newspapers in the county have been published. The first issue

appeared in Sheldon on February 25, 1885. Others followed including Lisbon, Enderlin, Elliott, and McLeod which have served a purpose of bringing news, entertainment, even gossip to an audience hungry for it. I’ve dipped into the archives to read some from each of them and found substance in all.

The term “news desert” enters the discussion. It is a community where residents are

losing access to important local news, announcements, and information that feed grassroots

democracy. But like Bob Dylan sings, “The times they are a’changing.” It wasn’t always this

way because there was a time when the number of newspapers grew prodigiously.

One good story illustrates this. The Northern Pacific rails reached Bismarck in the

summer of 1873. On June 5, 1873, a Washington hand-set press arrived on the first train to

Bismarck, Dakota Territory. The term “first train” is important. 

An enterprising journalist named Clement Lounsberry recognized budding town’s potential for a newspaper and wasted no time in establishing his operation, still printing as the Bismarck Tribune today. When the NP railroad reached Bismarck some notorious characters and establishments arrived, too. Lounsberry demonstrated his mettle as an editor through his editorials where he called for a “vigilance committee” to deal with the situation. A couple of the saloon owners took issue with his stance and came into his office brandishing pistols. Lounsberry, a Civil War veteran who fancied himself a “fighting editor,” challenged them to go ahead and shoot. He’d heard bullets fly before. The saloon keepers backed down but pleaded with him to ease up on his fiery writing. Many other examples of fighting editors can be related.

As the frontier spread westward people entered a news desert, but something was being

done about it. In the 19th century upwards of 10,000 small town newspapers came into existence to serve the communities. One portable device made it quite easy to do - the Washington Hand Press. Its dimensions were such that one could be loaded onto a wagon and carried wherever a would-be newsman wanted to set up shop.

It was just because of this Washington press that a great story came out of Yankton during

the early days of Dakota Territory. One had just been brought to town and set up when the new editor witnessed something which he wrote to preserve for history. A man had come flying through the window of the saloon across the street. The man was the recently deposed speaker of the house and had just experienced the wrath of the territory’s sergeant-at-arms. It was important to know that our early territorial government did not come without problems.

Growth of many newspapers came with the government land grant received by the

railroad. The company could now build towns and sell farm land between Fargo and Bismarck. As new towns formed, newspaper presses arrived. My map dated 1889 shows numerous little towns that came into existence between Fargo and Bismarck. Without doing the research for numbers, it’s a good bet most of them printed a newspaper.

I’ve volunteered a few times at the historic Hunter Times newspaper office when West

Fargo’s Bonanzaville opens the doors for its 4th of July celebration. My humble role is usually that of greeter, but I’m always fascinated watching the old presses in action. The pressmen demonstrate their dying craft with pride.

The retired editor from The Emmons County Record has taken preservation of historical

printing processes seriously. He promoted the creation of a printing press museum full of old

equipment which is oiled up and demonstrated on occasion. Found at Braddock, North Dakota, where even though it’s in an unfrequented area, draws interest, especially so during Braddock’s team threshers reunion. The NDSU Press takes journalism students there as well to acquaint them with the machines and the process of putting out papers “the old way.”

We’ve moved on from the old system that served us well and have entered computerized

printing. The old presses have gone silent. On the national scene we all read the same

homogenized news filtered through a few outlets. Only the most discriminating reader takes the time to search for accurate reporting. The question arises: what impact does all this have on independent thought.

Even though I've turned eighty-two

 

Even though I’ve turned eighty-two

There’s still lots of things to do

But my joints get sore

And there will be more

But I can still bend to tie my shoe

RANDOM THOUGHTS - Friday, February 9, 2024

 A rare thing spotted in West Acres: A lady reading a book as a stream of phone screens drifted by … On this day in 1943 the Battle of Guadalcanal ended in victory over Japan … Dreading the winter that still might come … Still making plans for the future … Just saw a reference to silver dollars which brought memories of how I never had any (those who had ‘em jingled ‘em in their pockets) … Super Bowl Sunday, need I say more … We once received our mail in a box like this (ours had bullet holes in it) 

Two Rivers

Two rivers meander through Ransom County. The Maple makes a brief entrance on the northern side, passes through Enderlin, and quickly exits north. Its brief visit requires just three road bridges. Twenty-two bridges span the Sheyenne River’s considerably larger presence in the county. Less than a dozen cross creeks and other depressions. The total of thirty-five bridges most likely gives the county commissioners many challenges for upkeep and maintenance.

The spelling of Maple doesn’t present a problem, but Sheyenne has endured several iterations. A good representation of them has been found in history accounts and map listings : Chien - Shyan - Shienne - Shayenn - Shayenne - Chienne - Shayennoja - Cheyenne - Shayene - Shyenne - Sheyenne. One can appreciate the phonetic pronunciations of it. My North Dakota map dated 1889 spells Sheyenne as we know it today.

Various sources tell me the total length of the river is 591 miles. I asked several people how

many miles long is it in Ransom County and was met with “Are you kidding?” “I have no idea.” and “Perhaps you can google it.” My state atlas of topographic maps outlines the river in much better detail than a road map. You only need to glance at it to understand the river’s length since it curls, twists, and circles back on itself like an agitated snake. If it were a piece of string picked up and stretched taut, it’s easy to see how it becomes 591 miles.

We know early historical events occurred near the rivers. With the passage of the years they fade farther and farther back into the mist and soon disappear. Thanks to those few who have preserved some of it on paper. Ox cart traffic from the east heading to Fort Ransom had to ford the Sheyenne in a couple of places if they took the low water route. Another route avoided fords that swung southward around the big bend of the river but was much longer.

The name of one of the crossings lives today in Shenford Township. Simply replace “shen” and with “shin” and know how deep the water ran at that spot. On the Valley Road between Lisbon and Fort Ransom another crossing can be found where signage identifies it as the “Old Fort Trail Harris Ford.” From the lore of the time, it was said to be manned by a half-breed called “Black Tiger.”

The Sibley Expedition of 1863 stayed close to the river for a spell and identified a place called the Okiedan Buttes near Lisbon which had been the site of an Indian battle. The southern bank of the river does rise high in that spot and probably looked butte-like to Sibley’s men who had been marching on flat land for some time. I wanted to know more, but the fact that its history has faded into the past was demonstrated when we asked one fellow who lived nearby what he knew of it. He told us he hadn’t heard of it.

Gold! The rumor of gold brought trainloads of miners to the river. As A. H. Laughlin tells us

when the news broke of its discovery, meager as it was, “within a week every incoming train was crowded with gold seekers. I counted 130 men coming from one train. The whole Sheyenne valley was explored and mining claims were staked out on every cliff of rock, and all along the creeks and coulees and among the bluffs from the north county line to the lower bend of the river.” The rush soon died when they discovered that extraction cost more than the ore yielded. Driving from the west along Highway 46 we drop low in the Little Yellowstone Valley but soon rise to a height called the Standing Rock Hill. 

Here another of the county’s historians Dana Wright speaks of statewide prominences from which he’s stood and admired the view, among them Sentinel Butte in the western part of the state. But he adds, “I believe my second choice would be Standing Rock Hill in northern Ransom County.” From there he admires, “The valley of the timbered Sheyenne spread out to the south past Fort Ransom and the gorge of the Little Yellowstone and the Dog creek at Kathryn are eye filling. Then, far away in all directions, the rolling prairies of North Dakota.”

When my wife and I have stood atop that hill, we too have marveled at the view where one can see the effects of the sweeping glacier, look down into the Little Yellowstone, and ponder those who had come before. Enough said.

An Accurate Comment

From Clay Jenkinson on ltamerica.org -  Knowing stuff is one thing; getting it out of your mouth concisely and coherently is another.

Endangered Species

On the eastern side of Ransom County you can find a patch of ground called the Pigeon Point Preserve which is maintained by the Nature Conservancy. Their stated mission is to conserve the lands and waters where a diversity of life thrives. On its 571 acres they’ve identified at least fifteen rare plants growing and flowering in an undisturbed environment. Not only is wild plant life conserved there, it is also an important historic spot in the county being the overnight stop between Forts Abercrombie and Ransom.

Given my present stage in life, I’m finding heroes in the authors and thinkers who have pointed to the need for conservation of resources. In 1962 the biologist Rachel Carson published her popular book Silent Spring. This book had a huge impact and led to the passage of the Endangered Species Act in 1973, an event for which we just marked its 50th anniversary.

Carson’s book awakened an environmental consciousness which led to regulating the use of

pesticides and the banning of DDT. When she came out against DDT the chemical manufacturing companies exhibited their ire and started a name-calling campaign to discredit her. Carson was unmarried without children which prompted one critic to raise it to the level of sexism and say of her, “Why is a spinster without children concerned about genetics?” 

The topic interested enough of the general population to buy over two million copies of Silent Spring. What triggered her research into the topic and caused her to write a book about her findings? One of her friends had written a letter describing the death of birds around her property that she blamed on the spraying of DDT to kill mosquitoes. This was in the days of scientists starting to wonder about the effects of fallout from atomic tests, so it was an easy crossover to look at chemical sprays, too. Rachel possessed a scientific aptitude and naturally became interested.

She and other scientists noticed that an unusual thing began developing in the bird world, egg shells were thin and infertile. It was especially notable in the dwindling bald eagle population whereby in 1966 only 487 pairs existed. Since they were the national symbol, an alarm went off. On close inspection, investigators saw that DDT spray used to control mosquitoes had seeped into the ground, affected the water supply, entered the fish population, and poisoned the eagles when they ate them.

DDT use has stopped and look at the situation now. Bald eagles today number over 300,000

making it one of the nation's greatest conservation success stories. Rachel Carson’s determined stance is held in high regard by the conservation community and is credited with breaking through the so-called “glass ceiling” that kept women from being heard.

Birds aren’t the only species benefiting from the legislation. Fish, wildlife, and plants are all

included. Thirty-nine species have been fully recovered, including 23 in the last 10 years.                                                                        It’sbeen estimated the Endangered Species Act has prevented the extinction of roughly 291 species since passage in 1973.

I remember when a fish species called a snail darter came under protection and stopped a dam’s construction in Tennessee. Critics pointed to what they thought was an insignificant creature and dam builders accused the action of environmental overreach. Things worked out, the dam did get built and some of the snail darters were moved to another area. Apparently none of it was necessary because snail darters were later found elsewhere.

Do we hear a meadowlark’s song from the top of a fencepost like we used to. It doesn’t seem like it. And Monarch butterflies? Just a few years ago we woke here in Fargo to find dead butterflies covering the ground. Sure enough, aerial spraying the night before was the cause. Whatever the brand of spray used, it proved to be the culprit. The city just shrugged its shoulders and promised to do better next time.

I know people who would like to eradicate a particular animal in the western part of the state. Prairie dogs dig holes in their pastures. Some even invite hunters to come onto their property and shoot them for target practice. Sorry to say, but my rancher in-laws probably won’t like the fact that Prairie dogs are a keystone species. That means they are a species upon which other animals depend, and removal of these species from the ecosystem would cause changes to ecosystem function.

We started this piece talking about the place called Pigeon Point. More than one type of pigeon has existed and the breed called a “passenger pigeon,” although now extinct, was probably the species for which Pigeon Point was named. The name was derived from the French word passager, meaning "passing by", due to the migratory habits of the species.

John James Audubon, the famous name in bird lore, related one experience he had with them. He said, “The air was literally filled with Pigeons; the light of noon-day was obscured as by an eclipse…” One of the old time residents of Owego said they’d roost so thickly in the trees you could bat them down with a stick.

I remember a feeling of sadness when I read of the last pigeon’s death in the New Yorker

magazine. A boy in Ohio shot one which biologists identified as the last one in the wild. Another one living in a zoo died in 1914. There are plenty of pigeons today, but they are probably Rock Pigeons or common city pigeons.

All indications point to the fact that the multitude of species must be protected to maintain the ecological diversity that has brought us to this point. I for one do not wish to live in a

moonscape. And I hope to get to Pigeon Point this year when the rare Prairie Fringed Orchid

blossoms this year.

He Returned to the County

 

After the large Sibley Exhibition passed through Ransom County in 1863 at least

one of its participants liked what he saw and returned to live here after the Civil

War ended. He served as a “wagoner,” or a muleskinner, driving a six-hitch supply

wagon.

    We’re interested in the fact that his feat as an old man of seventy-seven prompted

the local Progress editor to write a feature story about it. James M. Kinney had

walked from his home somewhere on the Sheyenne River, a distance of sixteen

miles, in six hours time. On March 10, 1911, snow still covered the ground, in fact

fresh snow had fallen the night before. He remarked he could’ve arrived in

Sheldon sooner, but the snow slowed him.

    Reaching town about two P.M. he had to spend the night until the Northern Pacific

train arrived in the morning on its way to Lisbon. His purpose for traveling was to

spend the winter in the North Dakota Soldiers Home. As was common, overnight

guests often found amusement at Chauncey Durgin’s saloon. That evening

Kinney’s story telling attracted an audience who sat listening to his experiences on

the Dakota plains.

    His early employment of driving a stagecoach in Minnesota wasn’t exciting

enough. He wanted action on the Indian frontier. On his last day he pulled in from

a trip, delivered the mail, and let someone else tend to his team. He walked over to

a recruiter and joined the ranks of Company B, 10th Minnesota as a wagoner under

General Sibley’s command.

    He found action, all right. Before crossing into Dakota Territory, his company kept

engaging in little skirmishes where in one engagement the Indians succeeded in

killing several of their horses. The soldiers fought from behind the dead animals.

When all was said and done Sibley declared his expedition a success that would

prevent further attacks by Indians. They’d traveled 1039 miles in a little less than

three months.

    Now Kinney was free to join the Northern war effort in the Civil War where he

again served as a wagoner. It didn’t take long before he climbed higher in the ranks

by being named chief wagoner. Maybe he was no angel since in the South he

participated in some high jinks. The Union army raided cotton warehouses

whenever they found them. Kinney and the boys tried their hand at a little blackmarketing

 by stuffing cotton in the bottom of their wagon boxes and covering it up

with false flooring. Their effort at marketing didn’t make them any extra pocket

change though since the scheme was discovered.

    A blank spot in Kinney’s life occurs with no paper trail to uncover it. A personal

experience caused me to become interested in his life. I have relatives buried in

much of the sandhill area. While placing memorial flowers in the Owego Lutheran

Church Cemetery I noticed a solitary gravestone on the west edge, its white marble

defined against a green field of corn.

    When he was buried the gravesite had not been marked with a stone. Possibly there

had been a wooden cross which would have soon rotted. His death occurred in

1915, but not until 1939 was a stone grave marker placed. Colonel J. W. Carroll,

Commandant of the North Dakota Soldiers Home, applied for a headstone with the

War Department. He was most likely prompted by the local cemetery board to

make the request.

    I have a copy of the paperwork requesting government action which states “This

application is for the UNMARKED grave of a veteran. It is understood the stone

will be furnished and delivered at the railroad station or steamboat landing above

indicated, at Government expense, freight prepaid.”

    One man was named to receive the shipment - Mr. Henry Ylvisaker. As a

committee member overseeing the cemetery he was to see that the marker was

properly placed. A pencilled notation on the application states it was shipped to

him on August 9, 1939. Are we permitted to imagine a scene on a hot day when

Ylvisaker returned from the train station with this article of freight? Then with the

help of another man or two helping to lift it in place accompanied by a prayer from

the pastor and song of a meadowlark filling the air.