At the Gathering in Medora

 The official photographer at the Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering took this picture of me presenting a poem.

Memorial Day Weekend in Medora, 2024

It’s good to get away and do something different than the routines we all seem to establish. So it

was for my wife and me this past Memorial Day weekend. We drove to Medora where I

participated in the 38th annual Dakota Poetry Gathering. You may say, “Cowboy poetry, who

you kidding, you’re no cowboy.” You would be right, I’m not, but it’s fun to wrangle wild words

together into verses no matter the subject. This isn’t just poetry recitations since many good

musicians and singers appear, too. In fact they may outnumber the poets.

I don’t base my writing on such things as riding horses, herding cattle, or shooting up the town.

Mine concentrate on life as it was found during the era of the cowboy. Topics include the

blacksmith shop, pitchforks, the stockyards hotel, auction sales, the general store, barbed wire,

and most anything else in a similar list.

Bill Lowman founded the gathering 38 years ago and with his wife JoAnn continues to manage

it. Through various contacts he has made through the years he asks people to come and be a part

of it. Lowman carries a long resume for dealing with the arts. For many years he toured the state

as an “Artist in Residence” for the North Dakota Council on the Arts teaching writing. He told

me that he took his program to the Enderlin and Sheldon schools some years past. He attends as

a charter member the big one each year, the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada,

has been named as a “Local Legacy” in the Library of Congress, and among other state awards

has been inducted into the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame.

Many of the participants at the gathering drive some miles to attend. For us it’s a five hour drive

which is nothing compared to those who came from places in Minnesota, Nebraska, South

Dakota, Colorado, Montana, and even Missouri. Attendees vary a bit from year to year which

makes for fresh input. I like many of the other participants are what might be called “walk-ins”

and comprise the bulk of the performers.

Let me tell you about the lady from Missouri who came up to me saying, “I know you.”

She was a bonafide cowgirl from whom at first I cowered a bit, but she was nice. Our connection

is quite simple. She and I both hold membership in an organization named the Western Writers of

America. For several years, I held the position as a book reviewer whereby I received new

publications to read and review. It so happened I had reviewed one of her books but didn’t

remember hers. I asked, “Did I give you a positive review?” Thank goodness, she replied in the

affirmative and seemed satisfied. She went on to tell me she now does some reviewing for the

organization but is not so kind as I was. I’ve kept back copies of our organization’s magazine and

will look to see just what I did write.

On Saturday night we attended the service at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Medora. It has the

distinction of being the oldest Catholic church in the Bismarck diocese and is listed on the

National Register of Historic Places. Why? Medora, the wife of the well-known Marquis deMores, 

financed its construction in 1884 by paying for it with personal funds received from her

father. Bricks for its walls came from the local brick factory. Some of the pews are original as is

the altar. More than a full house jammed into the building which multiplied the squeaks and

groans from the old wood floor and pew.

Breakfast at the Cowboy Cafe is a must each morning. It’s compact, but lots of people squeeze in

there to eat and mingle with dozens of pictures of past cowboys and cattle brands blazed on the

walls. The Western Edge Bookstore must be included in any visit to town where we’ve gotten to

be friends with the proprietors Doug and Mary. We drove up to check on the construction

progress of the new Roosevelt Library.

If anyone would ask for some examples of my poems, I could name a few. The one called

“Rattlesnake Dan” is probably the top one. It deals with a man from my wife’s childhood

neighborhood who wanted to establish a bounty on rattlesnakes. Elected to the state house of

representatives he set about trying to get it done. He couldn’t get any traction with it so he went

home and boxed up a bunch of cold, stiff rattlesnakes and took them to Bismarck and dumped

them on the floor at the capital. My lines state, “Such a commotion you never saw was when

those snakes began to thaw and crawl about in the warmth of that room set free from their wintry

tomb.” His tactic worked. His colleagues established the bounty for awhile.

One fellow came up to me wanting to know how I wrote these lines. How does a person answer

that? I simply said to read from a wide variety of published work, listen to those who recite it,

and sweat. If it’s in there it will exit your brain, flow down your arm through the tip of your pen,

and record itself on paper.

As for a couple of final thoughts, it was while driving away from Medora when I thought that I’d

like to drag the rugged landscape along home with me. The gathering does not forget to

recognize veterans on Memorial Day with patriotic song, and one man even blew taps on his

bugle. We’ll return another year.

Random Thoughts - May 23, 2024

Memorial Day is Monday, May 27 … Visiting graves at Helendale whereupon exiting car we were met with a loud chorus of meadowlark song - beautiful … On this day in 1785 Benjamin Franklin announces his invention of bifocals … Plans made to attend the Cowboy Poetry Gathering in  Medora this weekend, my best one about rattlesnakes out west where Mary was raised  … Main street deserted this morning in Sheldon, not even an open bar … Costco so busy we could hardly maneuver in it … The name Helendale strikes me as a beautiful sound when voiced … The carved shelf was one of my favorites … 

Glory Days

“His line drive came right at me. When I reached for it the tip of my glove deflected it enough to

rise and sail over the fence. Good thing I didn’t lay a hand on that ball or it would’ve torn my

hand off.” So said an acquaintance of mine who was playing first base for the Blue Ribbon

Allstars when Enderlin Indies player John Foss came to bat. I’d seen how hard Foss could hit and

knew my friend was not exaggerating.

Baseball memories! For some people they’re the best. One can dive into the game’s rich history

or attend games for enjoyable entertainment. Now it’s spring and my thoughts have naturally

turned to baseball. Like many others I search for diversion from the sad state of political and

social affairs encountered in our daily news feed.

I claim a flimsy relationship to Hendrickson Field in Enderlin because, after all, Dr. Hendrickson

delivered me at the Opheim house one cold February morning in 1942. What better reason to talk

about the Indies and other teams in the area?

Organized baseball experienced difficulties early in statehood. For the most part farmers worked

long hours six days each week. Sundays offered their only day for recreational activities, but the

farm boys found a roadblock. North Dakota’s constitution banned sports that day, terming it

“sabbath breaking.” Even earlier, the move to ban it gained traction. Here is what the editor of

the Sheldon Progress wrote in 1885: “Some of our young gents, not having the fear of their

creator before their eyes. indulged in a match game of baseball last Sunday. Don’t do so any

more, boys.”

Sixteen years later, a later editor of the same paper, wrote this admonition: “Some of the Sheldon

young gentlemen who think more of worldly affairs than they do of spiritual things so far forgot

themselves as to mix-up with the hobo crowd Sunday in a ball game. Playing ball on Sunday is

shameful, sinful, and unnecessary and should not be allowed.”

He went on to say he was “reading his Bible but afterwards learned the score stood 5 for Wiper

and 4 for Bill Sorenson.” He must have felt obliged to criticize this Sunday game, (but wink,

wink) reported the score for interested readers. Finally, in 1917, the yoke was eased when

legislation removed the Sunday ban.

A player from this area named Cy Pieh, “Cy” because his pitch seemed to come out of a cyclone,

earned some national prominence. One noteworthy event came in his career while playing for the

Yankees in 1915. Babe Ruth, the starting pitcher for the Red Sox, hadn’t established himself as a

hitter yet, but this day he hit the first of his career 714 homeruns on a pitch Jack Warhop threw in

the third inning. Cy Pieh, a spitballer, came in as a reliever in the ninth inning, pitched five

scoreless innings, and received credit for the victory. Pitching spitballs wasn’t outlawed until1920. 

For reasons unknown here, seventeen pitchers were grandfathered in and permitted to

continue using “the wet one” throughout the rest of their pitching days.

Lynn Nelson was born at Sheldon in 1905 and played major league baseball for all or part of

seven seasons with the Chicago Cubs, the Philadelphia Athletics, and the Detroit Tigers, from

1930 to 1940. A pitcher, his win-loss record was 33-42 with 255 strikeouts and an earned run

average of 5.25. Nelson’s nickname, “Line Drive,” seems to have come from either of two

reasons: he batted well, but he gave up lots of homeruns. Before concentrating on baseball, he

exhibited some prowess as a middleweight boxer and took pointers from his friend Charley

Retzlaff, the Leonard, ND, heavyweight who had fought Joe Louis.

The Society for American Baseball Research wrote about the time Nelson was asked about the

origin of his nickname. He said, “I would like to say it is because I hit so many line drives, but

the fact of it is that they tacked that name on me several years ago when I was a member of the

Chicago Cubs. The opposing batters had a habit, most annoying to me, of hitting liners past my

ears, and one of the baseball writers decided I should have a nickname along those lines.” As a

pitcher he was a good hitter with an overall batting average of .281.

Terry Bohn’s work of collecting and publishing facts and anecdotes about amateur baseball in the

state gives as good a picture of the sport that I know of. In one book, “Lots More Fun That Way,”

he alluded to a feature article in the Jamestown Sun that tried to explain the continued success of

the Indies. The number one reason given, “A core group of very good players stayed together for

many years.” Several of those team members have been named to the North Dakota Amateur

Baseball of Fame. A second reason given was the installation of lights in 1948.

Several pages of baseball history written by Carole Tosseth were included in the Enderlin

centennial book. The story includes a picture showing the installation of those lights which

brings back a memory. My dad liked watching games and took me along. The caption lists the

year of 1948 when the towers were raised. Then in August, 1949, a big dedication ceremony was

held, and if memory serves, I was there.

It’s necessary to draw heavily from other people’s experiences and collections of memories for

baseball writing. Various centennial books, Terry Bohn’s books, the Sheldon Progress, internet

sources, and first hand accounts like the one in the first paragraph all add to this writer’s meager

store of information. Do you have any to share? I would be willing to collect them and share

them with the audience that reads this paper. Email me at lynn.bueling@gmail.com. Anecdotes

make for interesting reading. Stories from any or all teams and communities are welcome and

contributors’ names won’t be used without permission.

We know other towns in the surrounding area fielded teams, too. Through the years, Sheldon

made a strong showing with some great players. McLeod wrote with pride of their baseball

history in their centennial book in 1986. Alice included pictures of teams in their 1975 jubileebook.

In fact, the makeup of the area Blue Ribbon League from 1950-1968 includes the nearby

towns of Alice, Sheldon, Buffalo, Chaffee, Fingal, Nome, Oriska, Tower City, and more.

RANDOM THOUGHTS - May 10. 2024

 Pleased to see the leaves coming out again … Mother’s Day on Sunday … We can’t argue facts, but we can argue the conclusions drawn from them … Bonita Bohnsack will enter the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame in the “Leaders of Ranching & Rodeo” division and join her mother Freida … Graduations set to take place … Memorial Day, time to visit cemeteries …   Finding examples of the high level of  baseball played in small towns as I prepare articles for the paper … The picture shows a carving I made of the way mail was delivered in the “old days.”

Where Did the Time Go?

An often heard phrase goes something like “where did the time go?” Another one says “Theolder you get the faster the time flies.” We marvel at this seeming fact in our lives and voice it in

many variations. I’ve been on this earth for eighty-two years and can verify that it happens.

Eighty-two years ago, 1942, and the United States had been in a state of war for about three

months. I can’t remember any of the details of the war but did sense the feeling of euphoria that

pervaded the country for a couple of years after the veterans returned home. It ended with the

spectacular event of atomic bombs exploding over two different Japanese cities. It finally

convinced them to surrender, and people started getting their lives back in order to live normal

lives.

Peace didn’t last long. Another war started, the Korean War. Fought on a smaller scale than the

previous one, it nevertheless sucked a lot of energy out of the nation. Nothing was solved since

Korea divided into two entities and is left in the still-existing state of war. At its beginning few

people even knew where Korea was on a map, but many gave their lives. Not many of us knew

where Vietnam was either, and there we were fighting an escalating war from which we finally

withdrew.

For me, fifteen U. S. presidents beginning with Franklin Roosevelt flew by so fast I never got a

chance to know them very well. Twelve North Dakota governors beginning with John Moses

came and went, regardless of any jokes about Moses. Other developments in my life have

occurred, such as marriage, family, work, computers, land travel, space travel, and so much more

that it’s pointless to try to name them all.

Since my life has passed by so quickly, I can easily imagine time-traveling to the previous

eighty-two years which lands me at 1860. Unfortunately southern states had begun seceding

from the Union, Abraham Lincoln won election to the presidency, and numerous clashes between

northern and southern armies occurred. But time goes on. Dakota Territory formed, the first

transcontinental railroad completed, westward movement began, statehood was approved, Henry

Ford built cars, and Teddy Roosevelt became the hero of the charge up San Juan Hill.

We roll over into the 20th century by watching the Wright Brothers making the first flight, our

entering the first world war, opening the Panama Canal, and suffering through a worldwide

influenza epidemic. Lindbergh made the first solo transatlantic flight, a severe drought coupled

with an economic depression struck, the 19th amendment granted women the right to vote, and

the first minimum wage appeared at twenty-five cents an hour. In 1941, one big occurrence

overshadowed most of the news that year, the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

Just like that two lifetimes whistled by. To extend again, why not play with the idea of

considering one more lifetime, a third life, to show just how fast it went by. It began in 1778, andd

arn it, there’s another war, the Revolutionary War. But maybe it’s for the best since patriots

from thirteen states rose up against British rule and resulted in independence which our

forefathers melded into a republic. Did you know Yankee Doodle became the new republic

unofficial national anthem. Our Constitution was written and we chose George Washington for

our first president. We ratified the Bill of Rights. John Adams appeared as the second president

and we experienced a peaceful transfer of power from one administration to the other.

The first forty years of the 1800s saw Thomas Jefferson doubling the republic’s size with the

Louisiana Purchase. Then to figure out what he’d just done, sent Lewis and Clark on a mission to

find out. We fought the War of 1812 and Napoleon discovered just how big Russia was in the

wintertime. The Industrial Revolution started. The Erie Canal connected the Great Lakes to the

Atlantic Ocean.

The Oregon Trail became an outlet for western travelers, the 49ers arrived in California looking

for gold, Walt Whitman wrote “Leaves of Grass,” John Brown raided Harper’s Ferry, and

Charles Darwin published “On the Origin of Species.”

I’ve packed a lot into these past 246 years, three of my lifetimes. This has been a silly exercise to

play with, but time really does fly by. It’s possible to play the scenario all the way back to the

dinosaur age or maybe Adam and Eve. But it’s the business of theologians and scientists to tell us

about that.

The better way to reckon time might be to look forward into the future of our descendants lives.

A Greek proverb packs a powerful meaning: A society grows great when old men plant trees

whose shade they know they shall never sit in.