Random Thoughts - March 3, 2024

 RANDOM THOUGHTS - Sunday, March 3, 2024

Fifty-eight years ago a three-day blizzard struck causing the death of humans and animals and closed everything down.  … Mary talked to her cousin in Cheyenne, WY where they’re having a problem with prairie fires, too … I was greatly disturbed reading about the death of a Viet vet who called out a young man for his vulgar behavior of urinating in a public pond and was then beaten so badly he died … I enjoy reading thoughts of Chuck Haga, the retired Grand Forks Herald reporter. Among things that bother him, he stated, “Being told, sneeringly, that I am ‘Woke.’ I want to grab the pinhead and demand, ‘Say what you really mean. Do you mean you scoff at kindness and ridicule empathy? That you dismiss the idea of equality, that you find democracy laughable?’” … I used to carve a lot of these shelves in the pictures, and now don’t remember where most of them ended up …

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.