The Latest Musing

Hi All,  I don't do much with this blog anymore, too many other irons in the fire.  If, by chance, anyone wants to know what's going on in my world, I did start up on "Facebook."  Just type in Facebook with my name and it should come up.  With my little mini-Ipad it's so easy to do.  Whether or not I "friend" you will depend on my mood.  It's like my editor in Santa Fe said, "Some seem to write like it's a diary," and he followed it up with, "Go find something to do."

A Good One

Last night as I sat in  my easy chair finishing a great book, I had the tv turned to the Emmy Awards, something hardly worthwhile.  Except for one thing.  In a tribute to Robin Williams, they had a few cuts from some of his past tv appearances.  I think it was the Jay Leno clip where he told a belly-laugher.  "God made man with a penis and a brain, but unfortunately only enough blood to operate one at a time."

The book I mentioned was Riders to Cibola by Norman Zollinger.  It is a story of a young Mexican boy taken in by a benevolent rancher who takes a liking to him.  It follows him and the rancher's family through the generations until the conclusion.  It was a good one!

August 23

It's raining here on a Saturday.  Darn, I was going to mow some grass.  Now it'll have to wait til Tuesday since we'll be in Fargo.  I keep busy doing my thing.  I just wrote a newspaper column on the occasion of my year anniversary of submitting articles.  The lady editor just keeps on printing them, so what's a guy to do?  The thing I like about writing is that it makes me get out to learn about things which I didn't know before.  The one I'm getting ready to write is about the Blue Laws in North Dakota.  Some pretty interesting things in the early days.  1917 is the year I started looking.  Til next time.

Before I Forget...

A rest stop in Montana provided a good laugh.  An SUV parked beside us and three burly young men and a gal jumped out.  The conversation from the guys went something like this: "She does not have a  mustache."..."Yes, she does"..."Gawd, she lives down there on the reservation with all them Indians.  She's gotta be tough"..."She's still got a mustache."  And so it went.  Montana cowboys!

A New Week

A new week and lots to do.  I went to an auction sale Saturday, an estate sale, a collector's.  He was a retired employee of the historical society, so I thought he just might have acquired a few things that I might like.  He had a large collection of beer things, bar signs, brewing books, empty cans, etc.  It sold high.  An electric lighted Dakota Brewery sign went for $300 and it had a cracked glass front.  There were books where I thought I might score, which I did.  I spotted one in a box, The Spoilers by Rex Beach.  It's a first edition 1905 copyright in "like new" condition.  At any rate, it's the fictionalized story of North Dakota's big crook, Alex. McKenzie, when he went to Alaska and ripped off the gold miners.  In my way of thinking, it was a good 'get'.  I intend to write more about McKenzie in the future.

Right now I've returned to horses in WWI and have been finding more info on ChroniclingAmerica website.  In the Clinch Valley News out of Virginia, a 1915 story carried this headline: " Horses for Cannon Food and Bullet Meat."    Last Saturday something like 35 horses were bought here for service in the great war.  The horses were shipped to Richmond, and from there they will go to Europe for the army of the Allies.

That is just a small example of the stories regarding the purchasing of horses.  Lots of material there.

Ingomar

Heading west on I-94 into Montana, past place names like Whoopup Creek and Bad Route Road, you eventually arrive at the town of Forsyth where you turn onto Highway 12 which eventually takes you into Helena.  That’s just what we did this past week when we fulfilled a longing to visit that capital city.  About at the halfway point of the interminable miles on that stretch, a little speck named Ingomar appears which contains one business - Jersey Lilly.  One might wonder where the name came from.  Well, it seems that the new owner of the bar, in 1958, borrowed the name from the western character Judge Roy Bean’s establishment of the same name in Langtry, Texas.

In an advertisement found in one of the rack-filling brochures about the state, we read of Ingomar where one needed to stop in and try the famous bean soup.  Let’s go for it, we’ll eat in these quirky little places for a new experience.  The odd collection of buildings sat off the road about a half mile and we drove over very large stones they called gravel.  The Jersey Lilly was one of a kind!  The building was only in a little better condition than the majority of tumble-down shacks and ragged trailer houses that the few residents lived in.

We pulled up to the weathered, boot-worn boardwalk where a sagging overhang shaded and showed someone’s initiative of having already hung Christmas lights.  The heavy sun-baked door displaying a “Push Hard” sign opened into the dual-purpose café and bar.  First-off, a decision needed to be made – sit at the bar or at a table.  One patron sat tipping a longnecker at the bar as the cook busied herself in the kitchen.  A table we chose and walked on an uneven, creaky floor to get to it. 

Character this place had!  Dusty stuffed heads adorned the walls and looking up to the moose head above, we noticed it had a cigarette in its mouth.  Fading John Wayne pictures and a poster featuring heavyweight champions from years past hung undisturbed, probably for years.  A bit skeptical of the food, I chose an old reliable hamburger from the menu, but Mary went for the bean soup.

While we waited we couldn’t help but notice the beautiful cherry wood back bar with its carvings, mirrors, and liquor bottles.  I picked up a little pamphlet from the table that gave some of the area history including this bar.  It had been shipped up the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers from St. Louis on a steamboat in the early 1900’s.

Rest rooms?  The cook smiled and said they were outside, around the corner.  No plumbing in them.  A sink hung in one corner of the bar where we washed our hands.

Here came the food.  Mine on a platter, and Mary’s in a steamy, long-handled kettle.  Too hot to sample right away, I waited my turn.  She said she liked it, “lots of flavor.”  Eventually I got around to dipping my spoon in the cooling cauldron and had my taste of the famous bean soup.  It was okay, but then I went back to my very good hamburger.

We finished and decided the food was good.  We needed to hit the road again.  Ingomar, named after a Swede, Montana.  So long.

Looking at June

A new month rolls around and signals me to write something in this blog. Spring finally showed for real, and now it is green and lush looking in the trees and lawns. Farmers are really scrambling to get finished with putting their crops in. Gardeners, like Mary, couldn't wait to get the flowers in, but now she doesn't want to come in the house.

Me, I'm having fun, too, volunteering at the Heritage Center one morning a week. Two of the galleries have opened, and good ones they are. It's fun to hear all of the places they come from – one couple came from South Wales, England to research family history in the archive library, and a man came from Luxembourg. I don't think they came just because it opened anew, but because they just happened in.

I had an interesting phone conversation with a descendent of the Wade family last evening who is trying to find out even more than the book I published gave. I have heard from many in that family who express gratitude that the book became available. So, even though I made no money with it, it's surely given me lots of pleasure. Another book is in the works, but things like that move slowly, maybe after about a year.

I'm still reviewing books for Western Writers of America, and now have received an additional job from them. I was contacted by the chairperson of the Spur Awards committee and asked to judge one category of writing: Best Western Traditional Novel (to 1940). I asked my editor in Santa Fe how much reading that will entail, and he assured me it will be plenty. I hope there are some good ones! I'll get more details on the project in Sacramento later this month.

We drove to Medora a week ago to take in some entertainment at the annual poetry and song gathering. We took time to go through the ND Cowboy Hall of Fame and, as always, visit the Western Edge Bookstore. The town was just starting to waken after their winter sleep, and by now, I'm sure they are going strong. We plan to return this summer and take in the evening stage show at the amphitheater.

A week ago Bismarck hosted a huge oilman's convention, around 4,000 registered from 48 states and several foreign countries. They counted over 40 private jets that brought bigshots into the airport. I'd like to have attended but the price of admission was $700, a little steep for my social security budget. They gathered around each other doing some back-slapping and trying to figure out how to squeeze more oil out of the ground. If they'd put as much effort into developing alternative energy sources to power our cars, we'd have something by now that's cleaner.

In parting, I can tell a bit about the movie we attended last night – A Million Ways to Die in the West. It was entertaining, but if a multitude of cuss words coming from men and women alike bothers you, don't go. Intended as a spoof, it takes in big territory: sheep ranchers, Indians, prostitutes, gold thieves, jealous lovers, gunslingers, barroom brawls, the fact that nobody ever smiled in old time photos, etc., etc. I was afraid my wife wouldn't like it, but she laughed harder than I did.

May Day, 2014

Noblest of all dogs is the hotdog; it feeds the hand that bites it.
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 The sun is shining today.  At first I didn't recognize what it was.  At least we aren't drowning in the heavy rainfalls in the east.  You can just imagine all the leaky roofs that are showing up.
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The first phase of re-opening the heritage center started on Monday.  I have been volunteering there in the archaelogy lab but was asked to help out a bit at the front door.  So yesterday morning that is where I found myself.  Only two of the galleries opened, but they are great.  The governor called the museum "world class," and he may just be right.
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We have purchased our tickets to Sacramento and have a room reservation in the WWA convention motel.  After spending a few days there, we proceed on to San Francisco for a couple days of visiting with my cousin and her husband. She asked what we would like to see, and we responded, "Anything but Alcatraz."  The books keep coming in to review from the Western Writers, so whenever I think there's nothing to do, there stands a stack of books. The Bismarck Tribune sends a book once in awhile, too.  Next year we go to Lubbock, TX for the convention.
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Yesterday, between museum goers, I read a bit of research for my planned "big story."  Some of the things those people experienced were far different from the way people live today.  It's too bad more of the details of those lives haven't been preserved.  I found a quotation from the well-known writer and historian Dee Brown which applies: "Sometimes there isn't enough material.  There's a story there and you can't fill it in with facts, so you let your imagination run wild."  What else can you do?
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The Enderlin Independent continues to print my essays on a weekly basis.  While attending a funeral in Sheldon on Saturday, I had several people tell me they're enjoying them.  So, I'll offer up one of them here:

 

Looking Back...

Blizzards

by Lynn Bueling

Blizzards have been a bane on existence since people first came to the northern plains. Native Americans developed the teepee design to protect them from the elements. Howling winter winds swirled around their little conical dwellings while they waited for mild weather.

Imagine, though, sitting out a three-day blizzard in a covered wagon designed to haul freight. That happened in December, 1867 when a train of forty-five freight wagons pulled by oxen stalled near Lisbon. With no windbreak on the treeless plain, fierce gales blew freely. Snow drifted over and around the wagons and buried the teams.

The train got caught in the open as they headed back to Fort Abercrombie after delivering goods to Fort Ransom. The outfit's owner was himself an experienced teamster, but he was not traveling with them that day. Instead, another man served as wagon boss. The question has been asked why he directed the train to travel around the big bend of the Sheyenne River instead of the shorter direct route. We will never know.

And why, after stopping, didn't he set the oxen free to drift with their backs to the storm? Twenty-one oxen died beneath the snow. When Stevenson found his train, he came upon a very hungry group of men. Teamsters were a rugged, self-sufficient lot, but they were unable to cook in the howling wind. How they kept from freezing to death is anybody's guess.

Move forward to the winter of 1886-87 for an event that made a significant mark in the history of the plains. First, the lead-up. This item appeared in the Sheldon Enterprise dated March 31, 1885: “Thousands of head of cattle have been bought in Northwestern Iowa in the last few weeks to be taken to the large ranches in Dakota and Montana for fattening purposes.”

In the mind's eye, you can watch many trains of loaded cattle cars heading west on the Northern Pacific railroad. Blend them with other herds driven overland from the south (think Lonesome Dove), and hundreds of thousands of them ended up grazing the rich native grasses of the open range. Short-sightedness among the ranchmen expecting easy profit proved to be their undoing. Cattle had been let to graze and fatten the year long in the previous mild winters with no supplementary feed or shelter. Hay had not been cut!

Snow began falling, often and deep,with the thermometer registering “very cold.” Severe weather never seemed to end, and starving, frozen cattle began to die, by the thousands. Someone asked Charley Russell, the famous western artist, just how bad was it. He responded, not with words, but with a painting of a hunch-backed, emaciated steer being circled by wolves. The picture became known as “Waiting for a Chinook,” or sometimes “Last of the 5000.” Ranchers living on the range called it “The Great Die-Up.” Estimates vary as to the numbers of cattle lost, but they reached into the hundreds of thousands.

Teddy Roosevelt's Badlands cattle operation disappeared with the winter's snow and cold. He went home to the east and started his political career. Most of the money invested in the cattle had come from eastern and foreign capital. Those investors took their losses, then looked elsewhere to invest. Ranchers who survived changed their methods of operation to anticipate hard times.

The blizzard in the year 1920 gained some notoriety when a young girl, Hazel Miner, and her younger brother and sister were riding home in a sleigh from school and turned over in a ravine. Her heroic efforts saved the lives of her siblings, but she died, along with 33 other North Dakotans in a variety of situations.

Hard to believe, but it's already been forty-seven years since the three day March blizzard of 1966 came roaring through our state. Probably the worst of the modern day storms, it claimed six people along with seventy-five thousand cattle, 54 thousand sheep, plus a miscellany of other animals. After the storm passed, drifts stood as tall as the peaks of barn roofs. Recently, the weathermen in a Fargo television station studied records of storms and concluded that of this century's blizzards, the one of 1966 was the worst. A phrase used by them can be applied to any of these storms: “Three days of crazy wind.”

Good Grief, Another Blizzard!

Here it is, the last day of March, 2014, and snow is falling sideways. All the schools in the area are shut down. It seems like we had a similar storm last year about this time. Green grass will sure look good again. The Missouri is open and flowing. Whenever we cross the bridge we look down and see fishing boats. Can't keep good men down, except maybe today.

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A couple interesting websites showed up recently which I think are legit. Just in case people have some money forgotten here and there, you can check it out. Mary opened them up and saw a few people we know. - MissingMoney.com and Unclaimed.org.

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A couple of weeks ago we traveled south past Mary's birthplace and visited Duaine Voigt who lives on the other side of the Cannonball River. He lives on The Anchor Ranch, which is the one established by the subject of my recent book, William Wade. It so happens Duaine has a story which I'm interested in, too. In 1951, his family was displaced by construction of the Garrison Dam and its promise of flooding over their property at Elbowoods. They bought this ranch, and to get their herd of cattle to the new place, they drove them overland for 10 1/2 days. I wanted that story, and a good one it is. He sat for several hours giving us all the details. It was an interesting period in state history what with oil being discovered at Tioga that year also.

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It doesn't matter which era you live in, people had their troubles. The Mandan paper carried this bit printed 125 years ago - “It is time something was done to the tramp horses and cattle which rove about the streets of Mandan. It is an everyday occurrence to see a lot of these animals feeding out of a farmer's wagon which is standing in front of some store. Only a day or two ago, a farmer bought two bushels of seed corn and left it in his wagon long enough to get the mail. When he returned, the sack had been torn open, and the corn was scattered in the street.”

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Here's an article that has been published recently in a couple weekly newspapers. (This state is full of good stories.)

Looking Back …

Laying Rails

by Lynn Bueling

The early development of North Dakota can hardly be separated from the building of railroads. Without them, it would have taken a long time to move past the open range. Issues of my hometown newspaper published in 1885-86 indicate the significance of the railroad in the early days of almost anybody's town. “ The timbers for the new bridge across the Maple River came last week. - Barbed wire is going off so fast that Karl Rudd ordered his second carload this week. - P. Goodman shipped a carload of fine hogs to Fargo yesterday, the first ever from Sheldon. - We notice the McCormick machines still keep coming in by freight and express. - Farmers are beginning to haul home their binding twine. - Two more carloads of lumber for the North Star Elevator arrived here yesterday. - Twenty cars of freight passed west yesterday. - Train loads of emigrants and emigrant movables continue to pass west. - K. Rudd received a carload of splendid looking brick last Thursday.”

The crews building the railroads were a tough lot. An occurrence in 1886, the “Battle of Fort Hankinson,” catches the eye. Rails laid by different companies needed to cross each other occasionally, and protocol dictated that the first construction crew to reach a designated spot could keep going. The crew that crossed later was tasked with building the crossing and, thereafter, maintaining it. In some cases, crews raced each other to be first, not in sportsmanlike fashion.

Near Hankinson, the Soo and Great Northern workmen worked in fairly close proximity as they neared the spot of crossing. Within earshot, they threw slurs and derogatory comments at each other and tempers grew. The Soo workers were a bit ahead, so some of the Great Northern crew resorted to blocking their way with a stout barricade. Others rushed back to Breckenridge for reinforcements and firearms, only to discover upon returning that the Soo Line crew had worked all night and reached the crossing and beyond. The Great Northern crew had to admit to defeat, and tempers cooled.

During a trip to Winnipeg a few years ago, we learned about the “Battle of Fort Whyte,” in 1888. William Whyte managed the Canadian Pacific railway in those parts, and when the Northern Pacific & Manitoba railway set about to cross the CP heading north, Whyte protested and ordered his crews to park a locomotive in their path. Fistfights and verbal threats ensued, and it took the Supreme Court of Canada to settle it in favor of the NP.

The Enderlin Diamond Jubilee book of 1966 teases the reader with a brief statement about another battle. After mentioning a bit about the Hankinson affair, it went on to say that Soo Line old-timers spoke of “the even more violent conflict at Minot.” More information about that episode has proven elusive to this point, however.

Before statehood, Dakota Territory saw two transcontinental railroads built within its borders, the Northern Pacific and the Great Northern. The NP passed through Fargo, stopped at Bismarck because of financial bankruptcy, and finally passed through the Badlands in 1881. The financier Jay Cooke enabled its construction to begin in the early years by securing a grant of 40,000,000 acres of undeveloped land from the federal government. Many, though, thought his railroad building was ill-advised because he kept barging ahead into territory without a population-base that could return immediate profits.

The Great Northern accomplished its goal of building a line across the country a few years later, but with a different manner of financing. James J. Hill, its president, obtained private funding for his project. Historical sources indicate his philosophy differed from the NP. Hill observed the NP's progress straightway across country without establishing much in the way of income from their efforts. Hill, as his mainline stretched ever westward, promoted settlement and built feeder lines, ten between Grand Forks and Williston, to the north and south to provide freight business.

An interesting story developed when the GN rails reached the soon-to-be city of Minot in 1886. There, track layers had reached the edge of the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation where federal officials informed him he could not cross. Not to be stymied, this aggressive, self-confident man traveled to Washington, DC and secured congressional legislation that permitted his company to proceed.

During his absence things were happening in Minot. According to Robinson's History of North Dakota, a huge camp of 8,000 men and 3,300 teams gathered that winter waiting to work as graders with another 650 men and 225 teams for laying track and building bridges. As was typical of any of the Hell on Wheels towns that developed behind rail heads, a rowdy, undisciplined group of people gathered to establish gambling, saloons, and women known as “soiled doves.” These towns built primarily of canvas could easily tear down and reconstruct themselves as the rail head crept forward.

With the huge crew at work surveying, grading, building trestles, laying ties, then rails, Hill's men reached Great Falls the next October by averaging three and a quarter miles per day. With his no-nonsense style of leadership and record of accomplishments, it is little wonder that Hill became known as the Empire Builder.

And That's How It Is

I  know several people who have expressed dismay at my lack of regularity with this blog.  Other things have developed that take my attention and concentration and there's not enough left to write worthwhile blog material.  I want to keep this site active and therefore plan to post once a month on the first of the month or as near to it as I can.  Apologies to those who have become regular readers.  Following I am posting one of the recent articles published in the newspapers.
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LOOKING BACK ...

A Horse Story

by Lynn Bueling

Most people like a good horse story. Through the years, countless numbers of them have run through the pages of our books: Black Beauty, Smoky the Cow Horse, the Black Stallion, lately War Horse, plus many others. For the most part, the stories follow a pattern of good times followed by bad, then ending happily with the horse living out his days in friendly surroundings.

The first book series that gripped my attention as a young lad was the trilogy by Mary O'Hara - My Friend Flicka, Thunderhead, and The Green Grass of Wyoming. Flicka inherited a strain of mustang blood that made her hard to tame, ie until a boy adopts her, then the above mentioned pattern develops. In Thunderhead, Flicka gives birth to the horse Thunderhead, the inheritor of his mother's wild mustang blood. The boy's father wants to geld him. It's there the tension begins. The boy comes of age as a rancher in The Green Grass of Wyoming. The books can hold the interest of any age group and are on my list to read again sometime.

For the most part, the horse culture was so ingrained in our society that they were taken for granted, used up, and cast away. A horse needed to have accomplished something above the ordinary to be noticed. In 1885, newspapers quoted the following lines from an obituary: “At the conclusion of the services at the church, the procession will at once proceed to the grave where all that remains of the deceased will be laid to rest. The hearse will be drawn by Fastboy, the well-known five-year-old Hambletonian who has but recently reduced his record to 2:32.”

For the past few years I've been a fan of a horse named Tipperary. His history came to light when reading about the remount service in World War I. On the battlefields of Europe, horses, in huge numbers, became targeted or suffered indiscriminate deaths from artillery shells, gas, and disease. The availability of replacements on the European continent had disappeared, and buyers looked elsewhere to buy remounts. Because of our military's dependance on horses and mules, the government established the U. S. Remount Service in 1908 whose task was to maintain a dependable supply. They even formed a breeding program to fill quotas.

Shift the scene to Camp Crook, South Dakota, 1915. The town, located in the extreme northwest corner of the state, was relatively close to Fort Keogh, the army's largest remount station, near Miles City, Montana. French buyers came down to Camp Crook to attend a horse sale. They inspected each horse individually to determine its suitability as a war horse. Tipperary did not make the cut because he demonstrated an outlaw nature.

Since his owners realized he would never make a saddle horse, they put him into competition with the rugged cowboys who thought they could ride any bronc. The reputation of the horse started growing; he bucked off all of his would-be riders. One of the first men to mount up and get thrown gave name to the horse. As he rose from the dirt and dusted himself off, he started singing words from a song of the time, “It's a long, long way to Tipperary.”

Rodeo rules differed greatly from those in today's Pro Rodeo Cowboys rulebook, if, indeed,they even existed. A horse was held in place in the middle of an arena and released when the rider got in the saddle. He could ride for as long as he stayed in the saddle, if he kept his feet in the stirrups. One man early in Tipperary's career did ride him, but people seem to discount the ride. Why? The horse limped into the arena because of a cut and sore foot. Prize money probably motivated the owners to permit the ride even with the injury. The SPCA existed at this time, but who checked on such things out here?

The years started passing by, and the number of Tipperary's victories mounted. Not until 1920 did anyone score a qualified ride on him. The rider, Yakima Canutt, rode him successfully in a muddy arena where the horse never gained firm footing. The following year, the same man rode him to the finish, but spectators on one side of the arena booed and protested that Canutt had lost a stirrup on the offside where judges couldn't see. It should have disqualified him, but he received the prize money. Canutt went on to the movie business in Hollywood and often stunted for John Wayne, including the famous runaway scene in the movie “Stagecoach.”

One other man scored a successful ride in 1926 when the horse was 21 years old. With that defeat his owner finally released him into the prairie to live out his days. The final tally of Tipperary's victories is somewhat elusive because of poor record keeping, but best guess estimates place it at about 91. Unfortunately, this story does not end happily. In 1932, a blizzard caught Tipperary in the open. They found him in the spring, his bones picked clean by coyotes.

Birthdays, etc

Well, I just had to go ahead and have another birthday.  Years ago I said I'd stopped counting, but what good did that do, they keep adding on.  Thist one was number 72.  But the fact that they keep coming is gratifying.  Dad made it to 95, Ma just celebrated 94, Mary's dad is 97.  According to that I've got a few more coming.  My mother sure likes getting phone calls on hers and was excited when her ailing brother in Washington called.  A sister in Fargo calls regularly, and a nephew from Lisbon brought her a bouquet of fresh flowers.  We visited that weekend and she was looking forward to a special treat at the home - shortcake with strawberries and whipped cream.  Wouldn't you know it, I called on the day of her birthday and she was sick to her stomach.  She said the others in her wing would just have to eat without her.
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I spent a lonely 13 days lately when Mary traveled to Costa Rica.  She had fun, though, and enjoyed it...except for the trip home.  The group was scheduled to fly into Atlanta, GA, but they were shut down because of the recent weather problems.  So the travelers got re-routed many different directions.  Mary flew into New York City and had to sit there an extra day because of more weather related problems.  She seemed very happy to finally arrive home.
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I'm expecting a shipment of books from Santa Fe soon, so if I didn't have enough to do, I can work on that.  I'm getting good reports back from my newspaper column readers so that makes me keep concentrating to find material and write something people enjoy reading.  It's like I say, I just hope I can keep a clear head and nimble fingers to type with. 
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The Olympics haven't grabbed my attention like they usually do.  Snow conditions must be poor and my favorites weeded out.  The Davis-White ice dancers were great, though.

Art of the Putdown

Writing this on Tuesday night, I sit in anticipation of my wife's return tomorrow night.  Tomorrow is the twelfth day, and  I'm lonesome.  Of course, a problem has to arise.  The snow and ice storm in the Atlanta, Georgia area might prevent the tour group's plane from going there as the schedule calls for.  Will they not come at all and have to stay one more night, or will they divert to some other airport?  Maybe I've have to hunker down for another lonely night.

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How many times after the fact have I wished I would've had a good comeback to put someone down when they were getting the best of me. Here's some good ones.

No. 1
If you ever testify in court, you might wish you could have been as sharp as this policeman. He was being cross-examined by a defense attorney during a felony trial. The lawyer was trying to undermine the police officer's credibility .
Q : 'Officer --- did you see my client fleeing the scene?'
A : 'No sir. But I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender, running several blocks away.'
Q : 'Officer, who provided this description?'
A : 'The officer who responded to the scene.'

Q : 'A fellow officer provided the description of this so-called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers?
A : 'Yes, sir. With my life.'
Q : 'With your life? Let me ask you this then officer. Do you have a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?'
A : 'Yes sir, we do!'
Q : 'And do you have a locker in the room?'
A : 'Yes, sir, I do.'
Q : 'And do you have a lock on your locker?

A : 'Yes, sir.'
Q : 'Now, why is it, officer, if you trust your fellow officers with your life, you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with these same officers?'
A : 'You see, sir, we share the building with the court complex, and sometimes lawyers have been known to walk through that room.'

The courtroom EXPLODED with laughter, and a prompt recess was called.

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No. 2
Now We Know Why He Was a General -----
In an recent interview, General Norman Schwarzkopf was asked if he thought there was room for forgiveness toward the people who have harboured and abetted the terrorists who perpetrated the 9/11 attacks on America. His answer was classic Schwarzkopf.

The General said, "I believe that forgiving them is God's function... OUR job is to arrange the meeting."
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No. 3
Dana Perino (FOX News) describing an interview she recently had with a Navy SEAL. After discussing all the countries that he had been sent to, she asked if they had to learn several languages?

"Oh, no ma'am, we don't go there to talk."
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No. 4
Conversation overheard on the VHF Guard (emergency) frequency 121.5 MHz while flying from Europe to Dubai .
Iranian Air Defense Site : 'Unknown aircraft, you are in Iranian airspace. Identify yourself.'

Aircraft : 'This is a United States aircraft. I am in Iraqi airspace.'

Air Defense Site : 'You are in Iranian airspace. If you do not depart our airspace we will launch interceptor aircraft!'
Aircraft : 'This is a United States Marine Corps FA-18 Fighter. Send 'em up, I'll wait!'

Air Defense Site : ( ... total silence)
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My OLLI classes are interesting.  I especially liked one last week in ND Political Traditions where the topic was Alexander MacKenzie, the political boss of North Dakota when it came into the union and for several years after.  I'm going to study up on him a bit more.

Alone...for awhile

I've been alone here in Mandan since Saturday.  Mary flew down to Costa Rica with a few friends...about 75 of them...to tour the birds and plants of that country.  Farmers Union sponsored another trip and she took advantage of it.  She called back yesterday morning saying the temperature was about 80 degrees.
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Not much else running through my mind this morning.  I'm getting ready to head to the gym.  One thing that I wonder about is this Keystone Pipeline so many of our politicians just have to have.  I found an interesting article that raises lots of questions.  Check out Jim Fuglie's blog - theprairieblog.areavoices.com - and see what I mean.  See ya

Sun Dogs and more...

We've had a pretty good dose of winter already.  About a week ago, I saw something that goes with cold, clear days, the brightest set of sun dogs I've ever seen.  That morning as I drove east towards the Bismarck side of the river I had to avert my eyes because I thought I'd just gotten a glimpse of the sun.  Wrong.  After looking, I realized what flashed in front of me was the sun dog on the left side of the sun  and its mate on the right with the sun in the middle.  There didn't appear to be much difference in their brightness.  I wished I'd have had a camera, but not to worry, the sight was all over the television news.
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The neighbor lady called Mary all excited to tell her the news.  She'd won a new Dodge car at the Dickinson Trinity school carnival.  I'm going to win my Mustang convertible this Friday night at St. Mary High's carnival.  Stay tuned.
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A friend send me a little ditty.  This year's month of August contains a phenomenon that occurs only every 823 years: five Fridays, five Saturdays, and five Sundays.  Sure enough, flip the pages on your calendar and count 'em.
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Another friend sends Ole and Lena jokes - Ole bought Lena a piano for her birthday.  A few weeks later, Lars asked how she was doing with it.  "Oh," said Ole, "I talked her into switching to a clarinet."  "How come," Lars wanted to know.  "Vell, because with a clarinet she can't sing."
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One more -

Ole was arrested one night while walking bare naked down

the streets of his little town. The policeman,

who was a good friend of Ole's said,'Ole...What in the world are you doing?

Where are your clothes? You're naked.'

 

'Yah, I know,' said Ole. 'You see, I vas over to dat 'playboy' Sven's

for his birthday party. Dere vas about ten of us. Der vas boys and girls.'

 

'Is that right?', his policeman friend asked.

 

'Yah, Yah, anyvay, dat Swen, he says, 'Everybody get into the bedroom! 

'So vee all go into the bedroom....where den he yells, 'Everybody git naked!'

'Vel, vee all got undressed. Den he yells, 'Everybody go to town!'

 

I guess I'm the first one here!

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I'm waiting on shipments of books again, one from the Bismarck Tribune and another from the Western Writers.  I won't have a lot of free time after they arrive, but that's good.  I've accumulated quite a stack of free books sent to me for review.  A few of them I will keep.

Oops, I forgot to ...

My life can't be to much different from anyone else's. First, the high, then the low, then a high again, etc. Last week I finished a newspaper column I'd been working hard at (the high), and when I sent it off to the editors, I wiped writing out of my mind (the low). Consequently, I forgot to post something on this blog. I should have something to complain about, eh. A friend in town with whom I agree completely when he said, “I don't know how people can say they've got nothing to do.” He and I run into each other at OLLI classes, Conversations at BSC, the state archives, volunteering at the heritage center, or even at breakfast.

OLLI classes start soon. Besides a few one session meetings, I've signed up for two topics that look interesting – North Dakota Political Traditions and Celebrate North Dakota. Two fine instructors head them both up and make their sessions worthwhile. Winter is already growing wearisome, and it will be good to mix with like-minded people again. Mary's going to miss classes this year, she's going on a trip with Farmers Union.

I don't see how I'll ever run out of ideas for newspaper articles. The one I submitted today was called “Laying Rails.” When the railroads came to this territory, then state, the country really opened up to settlement. Archival newspapers tell interesting stories. The one I remember vividly from 1885 stated, “several prairie schooners passed through town yesterday bound for the west.” There are many stories of the west that took place right back at home. There've been gunfights, fistfights, “soiled doves” , illegal liquor, political squabbles, fires, the whole darn shebang.

The picture of motor vehicles taking over from horsepower is so clear. In the June 10, 1915 edition of the Sheldon paper, the editor wrote, “Since the hitching posts were removed from the streets and the same covered with gravel, the appearance has been greatly enhanced and the two blocks of main street made a whole lot more sanitary. Since the removal of the posts a number of owners of automobiles are now parking the cars on the side of the street next to the stores and one or two of the merchants have asked The Progress to utter a protest in regard to letting their cars stand there. It hinders the farmers, especially the ladies, from driving up in front of these stores and leaving their produce, and besides, the autoes could be left just as well on the opposite side of the street.” They had parking problems, too.

I couldn't help telling a horse story, the one about Tipperary. He was a horse that the French buyers wouldn't take in WWI because he showed signs of being an outlaw. His owners made a bucking horse out of him and was ridden very few times. The sad part of the story was when he finally retired and was put out to pasture, he got caught in a blizzard, died, and was found the next spring with his bones picked clean by coyotes.

It took two weeks to tell the story of the fire at Fort Ransom, first the Metis caught and several died, and, second, how the fire affected the fort.

So that's what I'm doing with my time, reading and writing.

Lost in my Thoughts

Here it is Wednesday, early in the afternoon, and I just remembered I never wrote.  I spent the morning in the archive library reading in the 1885 Sheldon Enterprise and thoughts of that stayed with me.  I think I made some kind of resolution that I'd pay more attention to this blog and look what already happened.

The old time newspaper editors really laid it out, baring everyone's soul.  One article told of a lady who was examined by the commissioners(?) on insanity and pronounced of unsound mind.  It went on to say she would be taken to the Jamestown Asylum the next day.  "Her brother, it will be remembered was sent to the Insane Asylum at Yankton...and is now at Jamestown.  At last accounts he was but little, if any, better than when first sent."  We never read anything of the kind in today's news.

To make your mouth water, this bit appeared, "Fried prairie chicken for breakfast is now on the bill of fare."

Insults came easy.  Here "Dr. J. D. Henning returned from his trip East last Saturday.  The doctor doesn't seem to have lost an ounce of avoirdupois since his departure."  I had to think about that a bit, then remembered avoirdupois means weight.

A writer in the Sept 8 issue rode the train with the sheriff to take the lady to Jamestown.  To get there, they rode the train to Fargo, then boarded another train to reach Jamestown.  While there, they saw another man staying there.  They saw him "paring potatoes in the kitchen.  He says he is a Methodist exhorter, and preached us a sermon in his wild way, and also sent his regards to everyone in Sheldon."

A long article told of the hanging of Louis Riel in Canada and got pretty graphic.  "The hangman appeared from the gloom of the corridor.  He was masked and present a repulsive spectacle, as his black eyes could be seen through small apertures in the mask gleaming through...The drop was nine feet, and the victim fell with terrible force, so that his neck was broken instantly.  For an instant the body remained still, but suddenly the nerves twitched and the knees were drawn up to the adboman.  This was repeated three times.  The coffin was nailed up and buried in a temporary grave near the gallows."  The writer even described the rope used, "It was a short hempen cord five-eighths of an inch in diameter."  Morbid!

All of these were the ways of the news back then.  Almost every issue stated graphic details.
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 Ole leaves Duluth to get a job as a chauffer driving a huge limosine in New York City. The Pope arrives at the airport and Ole picks him up. The Pope wants to do the driving. Ole says that's against company rules, but eventually gives in. The Pope is a terrible driver, he goes up on the sidewalk, he doesn't stop to pay the parking lot toll, it isn't three minutes before a policeman pulls him over. The policeman sees right away that he has a problem on how to hand out the ticket, so he calls his supervisor down at the station & says "I need help in how to give a ticket to someone here who's really important." "Is it the Mayor?" "No, more important than the Mayor?" "Is it the Senator?" "No, more important than the Senator." "Well, then who is it?" Policeman says "I'm not sure. I don't recognize him, but he's got the Pope driving for him." 

2014

It seems like it was just yesterday that the millenial doomsday was upon us.  People were running around making preparations for the unknown catastrophe that might happen because computers wouldn't reset correctly or the Mayan calendar was coming to an end.  Nothing much out of the ordinary happened except that we got another year older.  Now, here it is fourteen years later and things still work.

My new year's resolution this year: I swear I won't swear anymore when I look out the window and see another inch of snow that I have to clear off.  Well, the hell I won't.  Dammit.  It snows every day!  It did again last night and it's only the 1st of January.

I subscribe for a free weekly download of a short story from The Library of America.  The column is called Story of the Week.  The last story, first published in 1936 - The Secret Life of Walter Mitty - is popular again because a movie based on the story is playing now in theaters.  I'd never read it, but I took the time now... all of five minutes.  It's very short.  Written by James Thurber the story opens with Walter Mitty standing at the controls of a ship breaking through the ice where his crew lauds his bravery and expertise.  His daydream breaks when he hears his wife say, "Not so fast!  You're driving too fast!"  He is basically a hen-pecked man at her service.

When he drops his wife off at the beautician, his mind takes him to an operating room where he performs surgical miracles.  And so the story goes.  It was well worth the time to read it.  Why I'd never looked it up before, I don't know.  I've heard of Walter Mitty all my life.

We volunteers at the archaelogical won't go back until Feb.  There's too much going on in there, what with the new addition nearing completion, the shifting and moving going on, etc.  But the final product is going to be something!  It's a 53 million dollar expansion and remodel, folks.  That ain't hay.  One of the employees said it will be the Smithsonian of the north.  Can't wait.

I know that the quality of this blog has been suffering of late.  I've been putting a lot of energy into the newspaper column, which, by the way, has been well received.  For another resolution, I promise to put more into the blog (but then I already broke the first one).  If a new year's wish counts towards a resolution, then I wish for a clear mind and nimble typing fingers for the rest of my days.  Happy New Year!!!