Lotza Green and Blossoms

Wherever one looks, scenes of new foliage treat the eye to multi-colored, multi-textured, and multi-scented goodness.  It's a great time to be alive in North Dakota.

After attending a high school graduation in the southwestern part of the state last weekend we had decided that we'd stay home this past weekend.  But the draw of the Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Medora proved too great, and there we went.  I have walked on stage a couple of times in the past but haven't done so in the last couple of years.  I blame my absence on my wife who claims she gets too nervous.  Bill Lowman organizes the two-day affair and always wonders why I'm not participating.  On the way out of the auditorium Saturday I waved to him and said I'd bring my guitar along next year; he thought that was an excellent idea.  I think Mary is ready for me to work something up because she was telling me her plans of how and what I should perform. 

In case anyone still wonders about the solution to the Horse Trading problem of last week, here it is along with the problem:  Frank sells Sue a horse for $60.  Then he decides he wants it back, but Sue makes him pay $70 for it.  Then Sue changes her mind and buys it back from Frank, but for $80.  Finally, Frank buys it back from Sue for $90.  At this point, who comes out ahead?

Follow the money; H means that person has the horse.

	Frank	Sue
	+60	-60 H
	-70 H	+70
	+80	-80 H
	-90 H	+90
Totals:	-20 H	+20

So Sue comes out $20 ahead. Frank has his horse back, but he paid $20 to get it.
(from Ohiorc.org - Stella's Problems)

Memorial Day brings lots of activity past our place here just one block off Highway 1806.  The highway leads to the Veterans Cemetery south of us.  The largest crowd ever attended the ceremony out there, and it must have also been the largest number of Freedom River motorcycles, too.  They rumbled on past for a long time.  The sound from those Harleys carries loud and clear.

So it is...

On Sunday our immediate family drove in strong wind and rain to Bowman to attend Harrison Homelvig's graduation from high school.  When the celebrating ended, Brandon and Lindsey took off to spend the night in Spearfish and then tour, a first for her, the Black Hills area.  Clint, Robyn, and kids took off for Medora, as did we.  Mary and I spent the night at a small, new motel in Medora, The Amble Inn.  The owners also run the next door Western Edge bookstore and we have become well-acquainted with Doug and Mary.  When we checked in, we were given the key to room # 4.  Upon entering the room I looked around for a place to hang our coats and spotted the above pictured coat rack.  I looked at it, thinking it looked nice, then I looked again doing a double take thinking that looks like my carving.  It was!  I think the owners planned it that way, that is giving us that room.  Wife Mary made fun of me and the way I did the double-take. The Amble Inn soon will include a bed and breakfast operation we were told.  I will definitely stay and eat there;  they are very gracious hosts.  Doug and I are cohorts in that we are interested in the same regional history and both write about the frontier days. 

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It will be very interesting how the two US Senators from Oklahoma will react when it comes to federal disaster relief for the huge tornado damage bill that will come to their state.  Both Inhofe and Coburn have been vocal opponents of lending relief.  The most recent opposition came to recent Hurricane Sandy damage.  Coburn really stuck his foot in his mouth when he objected to "$12.9 billion for future disaster mitigation activities..."  Anyone want to speculate on a two-faced politician?

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The new book is proving fun and interesting.  Another activity taking place in livery stables would have been horse-trading, and I've found some good sources to flesh this out.  One of them had to do with something I found in a Sheldon history book.  It had to do with the name of Fowler, a man who owned the stable at one time.  The narrative stated he was like David Harum, but a bigger operator.  Now I wondered who was David Harum?  After googling the name, I found out it was the name of a million best seller book in 1899.  Harum was a country doctor who also loved to trade horses.  Harum's version of the Golden Rule:Do unto the other fellow the way he'd like to do unto you, and do it first." It seems during this time that the dubious practice associated with horse trading was morally justified by the expectation that similar practices would be employed by his adversary.  I've begun reading the book now.  Some other sources I've found told of crooked practices employed by traders to fool their intended buyers.

A good trick fooled one young man just starting out in the horse business.  He bought a very gentle, good looking horse thinking he could not go wrong and should be able to use the horse himself or resell him at a profit.  He got the horse home in good shape, but then things started going bad.  From then until the next morning that horse came unglued and kicked and broke most of the boards in the gates and fence.  The next morning he consulted with an old time horseman as to what could be wrong.  He said he'd bet that if you'd look around the ground in the corral you'd find some wadded up cotton balls.  He added that the trick was to soak them in formaldehyde and stuff them in the horse's nostrils.  Result: one quiet, gentle horse (for only a little while).

A horse trading math problem showed up on Ohiorc.org in Stella's Problems.  "Frank sells Sue a horse for $60.  Then he decides he wants it back, but Sue makes him pay $70 for it.  Then Sue changes her mind and buys it back from Frank, but for $80 (Frank is no dummy).  Finally, Frank buys it back from Sue for - you guessed it - $90 (Sue is no dummy, either).  At this point, who comes out ahead?"  The answer comes next week.  Good-bye.

Big Machines

Trees finally started leafing here along the Missouri. (The picture was taken last fall.)  What was it, three weeks ago we had one heck of a snowfall. Now I've got to get the lawnmowers serviced. We may or may not need them, it's dry. The snow melt didn't do much. As we drove along I-94 on Saturday, I couldn't help but notice how large the fields have gotten. Of course, that happened so as to accommodate the large machines that cover the ground quicker so more land can be farmed so that larger machines can be bought...  Endless cycle.

If timely rains don't sprout the seeds to make them grow and hold the soil, we will be in for some terrible dirt storms this summer. Strip farming and shelterbelts? Nah, they've been forgotten. Even yesterday afternoon the winds were raising dust clouds right in the city, and I could see on the horizon clouds lifted high in the air.

I just finished a very good book of historical fiction: The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara. In it he recounts the Battle of Gettysburg. An interesting story about him deals with his early death after having written the book. It so happened that his son helped him research the topic, and after his father, started writing books of historical fiction as well. The book I'm working on now will be historical fiction. A definition I found tells that this type synthesizes fact with fiction dealing with another time. Authors couldn't know what words were spoken by their characters in conversation, but they can place them in authentic situations based on research.

My story will deal with a man who owned the livery stable in my hometown who had the past experience of being a teamster with Major Marcus Reno. The man had a daughter who married a man in Ransom County, so I contacted relatives in Sheldon to see if they had information and/or photographs. She referred me to the only surviving granddaughter who in turn referred me to a family historian living in St. Paul.

We visited them last Saturday and Tom furnished me with many photographs. When the stable owner bought the place the previous owners then  purchased the Buffalo Pitts agency to sell harvesting equipment. Tom gave me an 11” by 14” picture of this scene: a Buffalo Pitts steam engine pulling a threshing machine across a low water point on the Sheyenne River. Also in the scene are a water wagon, a buggy, and a rack filled with bundles. Information on the back says, “The Wall Bros. threshing crew the 'Froemke” crossing Sheyenne River crossing south of Anselm, ND. This is just west of where Argil Froemke now lives.” It makes me wonder if that wasn't the very same “low water” crossing that freighters hauling supplies from Fort Abercrombie to Fort Ransom used when the river ran low.

Another large picture of a group of men gathered in front of a cook car with two ladies in the background says, “Cooks for this hungry threshing crew: Ella Wall (Mrs. Chas. Wendler) and Gertie Bjugstad Evanson.” When you look at it you can't help counting the number of men in it – 22 of them that these two ladies cooked for. The main point is to think how labor intensive harvest was. Going back to the earlier idea in this post, now a couple of men can do more.

Spring, at last!

An incident in the news occurring at the NDSU sheep barn brought back a memory. Two dogs on the loose got into the sheep barn at the college, killing or injuring a number of them in the flock. I was taken back to a time when we'd just returned from a Saturday night outing in town and found several dead in our flock. The immediate suspect was our black Labrador dog named Blackie. Dad opened his mouth and found wool in his teeth. I remember being shunted into the house, after which I heard the loud report of a shotgun. Dad stood for no animal on the place such as this, and the dog became an immediate memory.

Spring came on with a vengeance around here, from winter straight into nice balmy temps. That recent 18 inches of snow disappeared quickly, from snowblowers to lawnmowers. We had a lawn service power rake our yard, and the man said, “It's such a short spring.” He has about 60 yards to do, and ours was only the tenth. Some of these guys really like to work; he works full-time on the evening shift at UPS, and probably earns a living wage there. Workaholics.

Tomorrow night, Thursday, I'm scheduled to make another presentation on the William Wade book. It will be the last one. I'm on to new things and am having a ball researching and writing. Books take so darn long to do, so it will probably be a year before it's ready. In digging through the old newspapers I always find interesting items. In 1886 the publisher wrote: For fast plowing and good work, Thomas McCully “takes the cake.” In fifteen days, with a gang plow, he plowed seventy-five acres, and did it well, too, going three miles to and three miles from work. This is an average of five acres per day, which is indeed good work, considering the present unfavorable condition of the ground for plowing. Who can beat it?

Another good one follows: City Marshal Sanborn has given some of our hilariously inclined farmer citizens a little wholesome advice lately, in consequence of which they crawled into their wagons and made tracks for home.

And lastly, it's plain to see some didn't like anyone to have fun on Sunday: 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.

Scavenging in Mandan

 

Definition: Scavenger - A person who searches through and collects items from discarded material.

A yearly dance takes place each year in Mandan called something like Trash Pick-up Day. The price of a ticket sells cheap. All you have to do is set unwanted items on the boulevard (those that normally don't get picked up on regular garbage pickup). Then what happens is that you - on the night before – look out your picture window and see empty pickups driving slowly along the streets. They seem to be searching for something. This is proven when they stop and out jumps someone who scans your pile, inspects a treasure, and throws it in his pickup. There is a variation or two. On the night before our scheduled, the door bell rings and there stands a young lady with a self-conscious grin on her face. “This might sound like a dumb question, but I was wondering if you'd mind my taking that white set of shelves out there.” “White set of shelves? Mary, did you throw away any white shelves?” “Well, no, but you can take anything out there.” So the three of us walk to the front of the house, and there is a set of white shelves, but that's not all. Someone also graced our junk pile with a large treadmill. Plus a few other things. The next morning I'm still shaking my head as I walk out, but to my surprise the treadmill is gone. Someone picked it as a treasure. All before the trash truck made its rounds. I can't wait for next year.

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I gained another occupation. Last Friday I volunteered to help in an archaeology lab at the state historical society. One nice piece came to light in the bag of screenings I was given: a rim shard, ie, piece of a broken pottery piece. It was kind of nice, about 3 inches square with some nice decorative work on the edge. How old? Between 300 to 500 years old.

The best part about Friday was when I arrived, they asked if I wanted to join a tour going through the new addition to the Heritage Center. Sure, I did. What a building it will be when finished!

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The archive library keeps yielding interesting tidbits for me. Here is one from Sheldon's old newspapers, 1909: A. H. Laughlin and son Leigh of Lisbon autoed up from the county capital on Tuesday, but before reaching town, the machine began to buck and they had quite a time reaching their destination. After their arrival the machine was put under the care of auto doctor Geo. Severson, who finally got it in shape to resume its travels but not till the shades of night had fallen, so the return trip was postponed till the following day. Mr. Laughlin is accumulating material for a history of the early days of this portion of the state and is full of reminiscent stories of that period. The Progress man acknowledges a pleasant call and an addition to his stock of historical knowledge.

My personal library contains Laughlin's History of Ransom County, and an interesting one it is. He writes Okiedan Butte is a noted high mound on section 35, Island Park township, five miles south of Lisbon, as it is near the crossing of the Fort Abercrombie and Fort Ransom, Fort Sisseton and Fort Totten military roads, and the Overland Oregon Immigrants' Trail. Colonel Creel, of Devils Lake, then in the United States regular army, in the early sixties [note – that would be 1860's] had his command surrounded by an immense herd of buffalo and had to wait several hours for them to pass. He stood on Okiedan Butte for over four hours with his field glass, watching the herd pass. It was a solid moving phalanx extending in every direction beyond the vision of the glass. He estimated the herd at several hundred thousand...

Here's one more interesting story : Miller to Move Against Sheriffs - Attorney General of North Dakota Declares He Will Clean Up “Bad Spots” - Sheriffs of several counties in North Dakota are promised special attention in a short time by Attorney General Andrew Miller who is the nemesis of the illegal liquor trade in this state. Miller announced that he would move in a short time against the sheriffs of counties where violations of the law are most flagrant... Apparently too much turning of a blind eye was taking place at this time regarding liquor. Maybe one of the sheriffs was the one that called my grandpa and told him he was coming out to see if he had a still, the still which immediately got hid in the cupola of the barn. North Dakota was admitted as a dry state in 1889 and liquor sales were illegal until repeal in 1933. What was a thirsty man to do?

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If you think you've got it tough, read a history book!