The recent June 20 tornado in Enderlin had received a rating of EF3 on the Fujita Scale for its tragic, damaging winds. This column recently mentioned that assessment level as an event that would go down in history. Unfortunately, the day I wrote the piece and sent it off to my editor for her acceptance and further forwarding to printing, a breaking news item appeared. The intensity of its force had been upgraded to EF5. Too late, my mistaken words have now appeared in newsprint the way I wrote them. If only I’d have known…
We hold a sense of the past very high in this household. My wife has immersed herself deeply in researching and writing family histories. She just completed a large one named “Country School Education of Immigrant Children in the Wade/Leahy School District.” It will speak to a very small audience. Heavily foot-noted with over 1,000 entries in the index, it will serve as a comprehensive historical record for the future.
I’ve written several hundred articles like this one you now read. In almost every case some aspect of history served as a prompt to research and write them. It’s gratifying to find people who hold a strong sense of history. The title of David McCullough’s book issued after his death is “History Matters.” Peggy Noonan, a columnist for the Wall Street Journal, recently wrote “We Need to Know History, Especially Now.” Howard Zinn said, “If you don’t know history, it is as if you were born yesterday.” Then there is the famous line spoken by George Santayana that I learned long ago and have never forgotten, “Those who have forgotten the past are condemned to repeat it.”
Maybe this is the start of a ramble, but in the aftermath of World War II my little brain was just starting to process and remember things such as the relief people felt when shortages and substitutes ended and they could start buying gas, sugar, and coffee again. Wartime coupon books could be set aside; I still have mine. Old synthetic rubber inner tubes did not make good slingshot material; it didn’t stretch well. Cockshutt tractors from Canada were easier to buy than U. S. models that hadn’t resumed production; was it Pierce Implement in Enderlin that sold them? The list can go on and on.
A couple areas of historical interest have taken much of my research and writing time: early statehood and county history. The fact that the territorial capital was located in Yankton and that Mrs. Mary Todd Lincoln had a relative whose hands guided its politics for a time isn’t included in present day small talk. Neither does today’s visiting over coffee consider the shenanigans that Alexander Mackenzie orchestrated in getting the capital moved to Bismarck.
Ransom County’s story brims with interesting stories. The man named A. H. Laughlin, an early player in county development, hitched a ride to Sheldon on a sleigh in a winter storm. Because the sleigh was loaded full with freight, he had to stand on one of the runners and froze so stiff he had to be carried into the store when they arrived. He recovered and rode the stage into Lisbon the next morning.
Laughlin became the county auditor, and to his office came the report of a gold discovery. News of it spread throughout the region and a gold rush occurred in the western part of the county. The NP train rails had been laid not long before and reports of trains loaded with prospectors filled the newspapers. The promise of riches dug from the ground fizzled out when everyone realized there wasn’t enough gold to fool with.
A lady named Nancy McClure lived on the historical site of Pigeon Point in the eastern part of the county. Being of one-half Indian blood, she could also be called Winona which meant oldest daughter in the family. Her life reads like a novel. She was taken prisoner during the Indian uprising of 1862, witnessed the hanging of 38 Indians deemed criminal for their actions, married a man who scouted for the army when Fort Ransom was built, hosted many travelers who stopped at Pigeon Point, translated the speech of Indian leaders, and saw her daughter marry into the Eastman family where a brother-in-law was the medical doctor present at Wounded Knee Massacre who tended to the needs of the wounded and dying.
We take an occasional trip up Standing Rock Hill in the Little Yellowstone area where we can gaze out an expanse of countryside. Joseph Nicollet and John C. Frémont camped within sight of the site on Monday, August 12, 1839 and named it Inyan Bosndata after the standing rock sitting atop the peak. The state historical society identified four interconnected burial mounds there that date from 100 B. C. to A. D. 600. Glacial ice thousands of years ago had formed the hill by pushing dirt from a few miles northeast of there. It’s a stimulating little side trip off Highway 46 that awakens the historical curiosities.
The story of the Sheyenne National Grassland east of Sheldon and stretches down into the McLeod area holds historical value with just a little research. Commonly known as the sand hills, it furnishes grazing for cattle, but at one time people tried to farm this land. The drought occurring almost a 100 years ago showed the folly of plowing that grass under when the winds blew. During FDR’s presidency, farmers were moved off the area, and grass has taken root again.
Our history is rich with stories. There was the Ransom County Immigration Association, railroad development, harvest hoboes, horses sold to the army in World War I, the Sibley Expedition across the county in 1862, wagon train stranded in a blizzard, Rex the Red, blacksmiths, baseball stories, General Ransom, and more. I am tempted to gather all these relevant stories to publish into one volume in time for Christmas giving. Not this Christmas, though, the one in 2026.
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