Why I Write

The major benefit of writing these articles shows me how little I know and how much I need to learn about a subject before putting pen to paper. I remember well how I started writing them. The book titled WARHORSE was popular a few years back along with a movie of the same name. What about all these horses on the battlefield and where did they come from? Further reading into the subject revealed that European farmers could no longer furnish the necessary number of animals for the battlefields, so buyers came to the United States to purchase them. They covered the countryside and found a goodly supply of them in the Dakotas, including right here in our home area. 

     The creative juices started flowing enough to compose a story about it and follow a whim to send it to this paper’s editor. When the next edition arrived, I could’ve fallen out of my chair. She had placed it on the front page! Well, one article has followed another, and several years and and nearly three hundred stories later an active curiosity still tells me to continue researching and writing. 

    Lately my topic concerns different landforms in Ransom County.  As a youth the drifts and depressions of the sand hills east of Sheldon became familiar. My mother’s family went there each year to pick chokecherries, and I would climb and slide on those hills until we went home with my shoes filled with sand. Four cemeteries in that area hold the final resting place for many departed relatives which results in our regular visits.

     Curiosity about those hills led to finding historical material. People had settled there and tried to farm it, but dry years proved much of the land unsuitable for cultivation. An interesting character named Rexford Tugwell, aka Rex the Red, entered the scene as a member of FDR’s administration. To make the long story short, he saw to those farmers being offered incentives to move off the land and free it up to become the Sheyenne National Grassland.

     The Sheyenne River flows with gusto through our county, and many times I have crossed and recrossed its deep channel and driven through its beautiful valley. What about it, I wondered. One man has traced its beginning at the headwaters and driven along its length while recounting geology, history, and stories of natives and settlers who comprise its culture. Titled “STEPPING TWICE INTO THE RIVER: Following Dakota Waters,” Robert King took a year to leisurely drive along its span of miles and make comments.  

     When King came to the area where General Sibley’s Camp Hayes, Dead Colt Creek,  and Okiedan Butte sat directly across the river from each other, I especially took note. From there upriver to the not-quite-successful gold fields near Lisbon, a wealth of information makes one want to write about it. All the while being interested, I’d completely forgotten a book  on my shelves, the new in 2016 NORTH DAKOTA’S GEOLOGIC LEGACY by John P. Bluemle. It  holds information galore about our state’s landscape including Ransom County.

     Over his career as the state geologist, Bluemle worked in every corner of the state which makes him the top expert in our landforms. In speaking about the sand hills, he writes, “The Ransom County dunes are beautiful places to enjoy undisturbed native prairie in the Sheyenne National Grasslands, the only National Grasslands in the tallgrass prairie region of the United States.” He gives an apt description of how the wind works on and reshapes those hills.

          He informs us about the Standing Rock and its makeup of metamorphic gneiss, a combination of quartz, feldspar, and mica. He may have been the one who wrote the signs located at the site because the wording looks very familiar. The rock was brought to North Dakota from Ontario by glaciers. The hill itself was pushed by a glacier a distance of about three miles and stands 110 feet above the surrounding area. The whole site stood as a place for Indian ceremonials and offerings.

     In 1970 Bluemle studied the geology of Ransom County long enough for one of his children to be born in Lisbon. He formed some conclusions about the gold strike near Lisbon. Referring to the preglacial period, he thinks any gold here probably came northeastward in a stream flowing from the Black Hills three million years ago.

     Going back to the stated premise of this article, there exists many things that I know little or nothing about, but if I can identify it, it is fun to explore and add knowledge to my world. Joan Baez, the folksinger, says it well, “As long as one keeps searching, the answers come.” 

Two Like Minded Fellows

 I recently came upon a Bill Moyers interview with the author, poet, and activist Wendell Berry. I like Berry’s soft spoken yet powerful message about conservation and preservation of what is good. He once said, “The thought of what was here once and is gone forever will not leave me as long as I live. It is as though I walk knee deep in its absence.” The coal mining companies in his home area of Kentucky caused toxic runoff that poisoned the river running by his farm, resulting in killing the trees that used to flourish along the river bank.

For some reason the image of our late governor Art Link rose up agreeing with much of Berry’s stance. Many people have seen the video called, “When the Landscape Is Quiet Again.” If they haven’t they should have. In it Link hoped the developers would leave the land as they found it when they left. Coal, oil, pipelines, maybe more threaten the environment. Here Berry says, “The point is not to make a killing but to have enough.”

Link’s obituary states, “Even though Art had the hands of a farmer, he had the finesse to fiddle a song that would fill a room with joy.” So, too, does Berry have the hands of a farmer and the finesse to craft a poem that causes people to sit up and listen.

On and Off the Grid

     Each fall we see large flights of geese heading south. Their brains are tiny, but they know where they’re going. I’ve often thought about such things like wondering where I’d be without a map if I were to head south for the winter. Before the early surveyors applied their grids to the land and outlined states, counties, and townships, I would’ve needed a primitive method, maybe steering by the north star, following a path someone else had cut, or heading towards some landmark on the horizon. 

    A great example of an early survey, maybe the first, can be found in Ransom County at the Standing Rock Hill Historical Site located east of the Little Yellowstone Park just off Highway 46. A passable two-track trail takes a vehicle to the top where the view of the countryside is remarkable. Geologists took an interest in the hill because of the way it was created approximately 14,000 years ago. The rock itself rode a glacier from Ontario, Canada, and the dirt in the hill  was pushed over three miles by the same wall of ice. It left lakes and sloughs in its path and when you look to the northeast from atop the hill, you can see a sizable amount of water shining in the sunlight.

     As for the survey, it occurred about 1839 when two explorers, Nicollet and Fremont, accompanied with about twenty men, came through this part of the country. Joseph Nicollet was a Frenchman with skills in astronomy, mathematics, and cartography whose goal was to explore and map the upper Mississippi area. His partners were a botanist named Charles Geyer, and John C. Fremont, a seasoned scout.

     Nicollet made accurate maps most likely with the use of a sextant and aided by a barometer he determined altitude. These explorers noted the Standing Rock site on their maps which Indians called Inyan Bosndata. The hill on which it stands is the highest around and stands at 1490 feet which is about 25-30 higher than Bears Den Hillock near the fort. The stone itself sits upright on another level higher yet. State historical accounts assert that the top level is man-made, probably by those Indians who used it for their ceremonials and offerings. 

     Little thought was given at the time to matters of conservation. Nicollet marveled at the huge herds of buffalo, but when trains started opening the country, passengers were thrilled to shoot them as they passed by.  It wasn’t until the beasts were almost eradicated that efforts sprang up to save them.

     The first accounts of explorers describing what is now Yellowstone Park weren’t believed. John Colter had accompanied Lewis and Clark when they passed through this territory in 1804. He had an innate sense of exploration and in 1807–1808 became the first known person of European descent to enter Yellowstone region. His unbelievable descriptions of geysers, bubbling mudpots, and steaming pools of water were not taken seriously. Colter’s the one when captured by Indians was stripped naked and told to run for his life. He successfully evaded recapture.

     The skeptical public started believing stories about the scenery when artists entered the area and painted its beauty and wonders. Thomas Moran’s paintings captured the nation's attention and helped inspire Congress to establish the Yellowstone region as the first national park in 1872.

     The other day I saw a reference to a new book by David Gessner, an author whose previous book, ALL THE WILD THAT REMAINS, looked at two American conservationists: Edward Abbey and Wallace Stegner. The new book, LEAVE IT AS IT IS, considers conservation from Theodore Roosevelt’s viewpoint. In writing the two books, Gessner traveled through the west camping, visiting with locals, studying history, all the while trying to determine some answers for himself about the state of American conservation efforts. Stegner was the more academic and well-reasoned of the two while Abbey was of the “monkey wrench” mentality. 

     We’ve heard much of Roosevelt and his conservation efforts. He took action by creating five national parks, eighteen national monuments, fifty-one federal bird reserves, four national game preserves, created the U. S. Forest Service, plus one hundred and fifty national forests. Whew! He did have critics for his actions, though, something which I’ve learned in my personal life. Gessner said, “If you take a stand, half the people will be standing against you.”

     Readers can argue this ends pretty far afield from where I started with the Standing Rock Hill Historic Site. I argue it exists today because someone recognized its worth for the future place in our local history. There really is quite a bit of history out there; it just needs to be found and remembered.

Movie Star Inventor

 I looked at my bookshelves for something to read, but couldn’t find anything that interested me. Then, who better to ask for a book recommendation than Wife Mary who has collected a rather nice collection of good solid books. The first one she pulled out was one by Marie Benedict - The Only Woman in the Room. She said it’s about a movie star named Hedy Lamarr who happened to be an inventor. I remembered something about her good looks on screen but also how she’d invented something concerning guidance systems for naval torpedoes.

     The book proved to be a good one. Lamarr, born and raised in Austria, started working on stage plays and drew admirers, one of whom was an Austrian industrialist making weapons. She couldn’t resist his constant attention and married him. The marriage wasn’t happy for soon after the wedding his possessive, abusive nature revealed itself and kept her in out of circulation except for the frequent dinners he held. Those dinner guests included the Mussolini and Hitler crowd. Some of those conversations dealt with weapon systems, and Lamarr being of high intelligence understood and processed some of that information.

     She escaped to America and became a Hollywood movie star, but in her spare time as a hobbyist, she devoted her energy to inventions. Out of that came a better system to radio-control torpedoes with a concept she called frequency-hopping that couldn’t be jammed to throw the torpedo off course. She educated Howard Hughes about better airplane designs to improve aerodynamics. Her developments have led to Bluetooth, Wi-fi, and more modern concepts at use today.

     My wife always goes for books with a solid story. She also handed me The Other Einstein about Einstein’s first wife who was a genius in her own right and Lady Clementine, the woman behind the huge historical figure of Winston Churchill. I’ll have to continue raiding Mary’s bookshelves.

Some Sheriffs Defy Mandate

 Maybe those county sheriffs who defy the governor’s mandate regarding Covid-19 could approach it with a bit of artful subtlety instead of making divisive pronouncements. I’m reminded of one of my great-grandfathers who liked to “cook” a little batch now and again. When Bill Langer took office as the attorney general, he ordered sheriffs to start enforcing alcohol prohibition laws, something which met the favor of the WCTU. The sheriff of great-grandpa’s county chose some artful subtlety and called the people he’d targeted saying he had to come out and inspect for evidence of a still. With that warning, grandpa and his partner-in-crime had time to dismantle their still and hide it in the cupola of a barn. I suspect the sheriff was a popular law enforcement officer who satisfied everyone.

Veterans Day Story

Many families can relate in some way to Veterans Day, November 11. World War One ended on the easy to remember eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, and one of my grandfathers, Andrew Sandvig, fought there, primarily in the Battle of Meuse-Argonne. I have been able to flesh out the following story of his participation in it.

     An immigrant from Norway who’d not yet gained U. S. citizenship, he only needed to renounce allegiance to King Haakon VII of Norway and was inducted into the army on May 24, 1918. After a short training stint at Fort Lewis, WA, his division left for Europe already by July 6, arriving in Liverpool, England on July 17. 

     While in Europe he wrote some notes in the margins of a pocket-sized New Testament which gave basis for finding more information. He belonged to the  91st Division, 362nd Regiment made up of midwesterners from farms and ranches, which took on the nickname Wild West Division with the battle cry, “Powder River, let ‘er buck.” 

     Whether or not he was aboard the tragic train wreck in LeHavre isn’t known but when a loaded troop train sat on a siding at midnight, a freight train plowed into its rear end killing 32 men and injuring another 63. They were crowded into the small French boxcars.     

     Rain plagued the men to the point where their coats shrunk to better fit a 12 year old. They spent some days training and waiting and waiting some more. They finally marched 20 kilometers toward the front and heard the big guns booming. Still they waited and sat in reserve while other American forces straightened out the St. Mihiel Salient.

     The 362nd Regiment kept moving closer to the action whereupon Grandpa made his first entry in the blank end pages of the Bible, “Today we are just a few miles from Hun lines.” Who knows what the waiting did to the men as they sat idle and listened to the nearby sounds of battle. Late in the afternoon of September 25th orders came telling them to attack and go “over the top” at 5:30 the next morning. 

     He wrote this the next day, “Sept. 26th 1918  5 in the morning  We started the drive about 20 K. M. West of Verdun and we were in 17 days and we lost half [our men]. I’ve filled in his blank, but historical accounts validate my insert. 

     Historians tell us more of what they encountered. Big artillery guns opened up at 5 a. m., thousands of them, all aimed at German trenches but German artillery answered. During this shelling, the 362nd sat safely on the reverse slope of a hill. As they walked across “No Mans Land,” not a shot rang out, giving the men a false sense of security. But as they entered the woods, German machine guns and snipers opened up and inflicted the first significant casualties on them.

     Epinonville loomed as the target for the 362nd. Supporting artillery fell short as they advanced and killed a number of them before they got word to the gunners to raise their trajectories. The Germans now realized the huge size of the American attack and shifted more men and equipment to meet them. After heavy fighting the regiment took the town and revelled in their victory which would not last long, however.  Regiments on their flanks had not kept up, thereby leaving the 362nd exposed which necessitated their withdrawal.

     With every foot of ground directly under the observation of the Germans, the 362nd suffered many casualties. Then their regimental commander received the order that the advance must be continued at all costs. He thought the order was suicidal and said he would join the men in the slaughter that was sure to occur. Someone has written, “A wild charge out across the open through a seething inferno began.” The regimental historian went on to write, “With shouts of ‘Powder River,’ they raced forward in thinning numbers through the storm of bullets, shrapnel, high explosives and gas shells, like wild men.” Their charge caused the Germans to retreat, but hundreds of dead and wounded were strewn across the battlefield.

     The morning after their retreat, the count of casualties astounded them. One company of 179 men had only 18 men left. Finally, rolling kitchens caught up to them, and the first warm food in five days was served to them. They stayed in the Argonne four more days until Spanish flu struck and raged through their ranks. While Grandpa never said it, I believe he contracted the flu because he wrote in his Bible, “Oct 17  I went to the hospital. Was there about two weeks and one week in Concourt.”

     In part that is Grandpa’s story. There is more, but this hits some of the high points. My mother said he would never talk about his wartime experience, something which seems to be a common thread running through the ranks of veterans. Someone like me can only read about these battles. Unfortunately Veterans Day gets skipped over and not taken seriously by everyone. Those veterans who were there certainly deserve remembrance. 

Quid Pro Quo

 

     Born and raised in rural Ransom County, North Dakota, I’ve never lost the sense of belonging there. I no longer live in the county, but the ground feels good under foot whenever I visit. Families, farmsteads, businesses, groves of trees, even the brush of a summer breeze blowing across my face revive memories from the years I lived there. On that ground I developed some of the good and the bad that define my life today.  I am 78 years old and can remember people, places, and events for about 75 of those years, but before that, nothing.

    While wanting to know history of the early days of the county before the reach of my memory, I need to rely on written accounts. Unfortunately, those former times can’t be discovered by going to any single volume but must be rummaged from bits and pieces found here and there. While searching about, I came upon the “nuts and bolts” of the county’s birth and   turned up the fact of an unmistakable “quid pro quo. ” Set in motion by two men it resulted in the county we know today. 

     The History of the Red River Valley, 1909, carries an account, the best I’ve seen, relating how the city’s founder Joseph L. Colton wanted to see his financial concerns there grow and be protected. For that to happen, Colton felt the N.P.R.R. must route itself through the tiny town. After preliminary surveys, it had become common knowledge that the railroad was eyeing a slightly different path. To prevent their bypass, he was steered to Major Buttz, a friend of the territorial governor Nehemiah Ordway. Buttz and Colton entered into an agreement whereby Buttz would influence the N.P. to build through Lisbon. Additionally, he would influence Ordway to establish Ransom County and designate Lisbon as the county seat. In return, Colton was obligated to deed 60 acres of land he owned in the city limits to Buttz.

     Major Buttz got it done. On March 7, 1881, Ordway’s pen signed the county into existence with Lisbon as county seat. Not done yet, two months later Ordway appointed the first county commissioners, which, of course, consisted of men Colton had recommended. Moving fast, they held their first commissioner meeting on April 4, 1881. Without Buttz and Colton’s agreement, Fort Ransom might’ve become the county seat, but like they say, that’s all water under the bridge. My map of 1889 clearly shows the railroad route bending to enter Lisbon. Later on Colton and Buttz came to a parting of the ways because of business disagreements.

     Fascinating history this all is, and if ever wondering where the ghost town of Buttzville got its name, think of Major C. W. Buttz. He proudly wore the title of major from his days of  exemplary service during the Civil War. He joined the Union Army in 1861 as a lieutenant and quickly climbed ranks. As a captain, he was commended “for gallant and meritorious conduct in capturing from the enemy a full rocket battery,” and another for leading a scouting expedition where 25 of his men engaged 300 Confederates with a “dashing cavalry charge” and captured 67  of them.

     After arriving in North Dakota, he proceeded to accumulate quite a large land holding of several thousand acres. Amounts vary but it was sizable enough to consider it a bonanza farm. 

His brother David lived at Buttzville, too, and it is unclear if they worked in partnership. A retired college professor with whom I’ve become acquainted is presently researching the Homestead era in Ransom County and has found on the BLM website that most of the Buttz acreage was in the major’s name.  

     The website “Ghosts of North Dakota” includes Buttzville and includes a few pictures. On another time we can discuss Major Buttz and his involvement in politics and how the publisher of The Sheldon Enterprise expressed his dislike of the major on different dates.