USA > Minnesota > Otter Tail County > History of Otter Tail County, Minnesota: Its People, Industries and Institutions, Volume I > Part 64
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But it is in his character sketches that Mr. Mason is probably at his best. Proof of this may be seen in the keen character delineations which
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he has portrayed in this volume. As a result of his long practice before the court, he has that keen and incisive way, suggestive of his legal train- ing, of summing up the strong and weak points of a man or an incident and setting them forth in such a way that the reader gets a striking picture of the man or incident so characterized. The writer of this sketch came to Otter Tail county in the fall of 1915, not knowing a single person in it, and yet after reading Mr. Mason's pen picture of such old pioneers as Jake Aus- tin, he feels that he is well acquainted with the burly old New Yorker. The ability to select just such characteristics as will best portray a man is the happy gift of Mr. Mason, and this faculty, added to this facility of expres- sion, gives all of his writings of this nature a fascinating charm of their own. He has been a frequent contributor to the papers and magazines on a wide variety of topics, but it is safe to say that it is his character sketches which will remain his best contribution to future generations of Ferguson- ians.
Such, in brief, is the life of the man who is the editor of this history of his county. The general editor of the publishing company who has charge of the history came to Fergus Falls in September, 1915, and during the succeeding two months worked on the official records in the court house and collected miscellaneous data of all kinds. During all of this time he was in constant touch with Mr. Mason, who had agreed to assume the gen- eral editorial supervision of the history. He came back to Fergus Falls in the first week of February, 1916, and spent more than two months in com- pleting the work on the history. A project of this kind depends very largely upon the local editor, and the publishing company always endeavors to get the best man in the county to have general charge of the history. The editor of the publishing company believes it is due to Mr. Mason to say in this connection that he has performed his part of the work faithfully and well. The historian has learned to know him intimately during a period of more than four months daily companionship and has written this appreciative study to prefix his Reminiscences. This article concerning himself is the only one in the volume which he has not read and the only one which is going into the history without his knowledge. The historian has worked in many counties in several states and has found that no history, especially when of such a local nature as a county history must necessarily be, can meet with the approval of everyone. In the case of Otter Tail county, there are many people living yet who were here when the county was organized.
The historian mingled with the people of the city of Fergus Falls long enough to convince himself that it has indeed been a city of factional fights and that personal prejudices are very much in evidence in places. The writ- ing up of some phases of the city's history has for this reason been made
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difficult; in a few instances things have been left to future historians to handle. The historian has noticed the extreme care taken by Mr. Mason to state all facts in an impartial light, and yet with all the possible care which he has exercised there will be some who might have a different view of some disputed questions. It can be truly said that the work of Mr. Mason has preserved for the county many facts which in a few years would have been lost forever. It is the opinion of the historian that no man in the county could have done the work of supervising such a publication in a better or more efficient manner than Mr. Mason. His time during the past six months has been given wholly to the work, and the historian wishes to take this final opportunity for expressing the debt which he owes to him for his hearty co-operation in the history from its inception until the com- pleted manuscript was ready for the printer. The first history of Otter Tail county has been written; it is left to future generations with the hope that many valuable facts have been preserved which otherwise might have been lost to posterity.
THE COMING TO FERGUS FALI.S.
On a beautiful afternoon in the month of June, 1871, I first entered the "Coming City," as Fergus Falls was designated in the George B. Wright advertisements, writ by a master hand and read as a curiosity.
George Head moved with his family and household goods from Roch- ester, Minnesota, to Fergus Falls, and, to pay my passage to the New Elderado, I drove one of his teams. The caravan consisted of three "prairie schooners," with a phaeton hitched behind one wagon, in which rode Mrs. Head and her sister, Miss Nelson. We were ten days on the road, camped out, slept in the wagons, and ate our meals beside the camp fires. Mr. Head had previously made one or two trips to the town, and was largely interested in property here, the title to which he cautiously took in the name of Morris D. Cutler, his brother-in-law, who lived in Wisconsin.
While Wright and Mendenhall were the real proprietors here, still the man most talked of was Ernest Buse, a Dutchman of great enterprise, whose property consisted mostly of equities. He was a typical optimist, full of alluring visions of great wealth just a little ways in the future. He thought and talked in "thousands," and could inspire hope and confidence in his victims to a greater degree than any other of the many Fergus boomers. I had heard so much of this man Buse that he was the one particular person I was anxious to see when we reached Fergus Falls.
About four o'clock in the afternoon of June 7, 1871, I was driving in the van of our procession, approaching Fergus Falls from the south, along what is now Union avenue South. As we were nearing the river, and just
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before reaching what is now Bismark avenue, we met a man, well dressed, of quick action, wearing a pair of neat gauntlet gloves, and seemingly on business bent. He was walking at a rapid pace and evidently with a pur- pose in view. It came to me at once, that this man must be Buse, and I scrutinized him as closely as possible as he passed us. My mind was dis- abused that same evening when I met the real Buse, a heavy-set, broad- bottomed Dutchman, who waddled when he walked, with his legs about a foot apart. It was quite a "come down" from the mental picture formed of the great and only Buse. The man we actually met proved to be Dr. R. M. Reynolds, the first physician in Fergus Falls, who was on his way to look after the building of his little log house at the corner of Union and Junius avenues. He came to Fergus Falls from Rochester, Minnesota. where he married Miss Helen Cowles. She was not here at the time, but waiting to come as soon as the home was finished.
The only bridge across the river was at a point just west of the west line of Union avenue, where the Red River Milling Company's mill stands. It consisted of two log stringers, reaching from shore to shore, which sup- ported small, round poles laid on them, and these poles were covered with straw or hay.
Mr. Head had purchased, and expected to move into, a log house where Buse then lived, situated about three hundred feet east of the Kaddatz residence. Buse had built what was, at that time, a large, square frame house on the present side of the Kaddatz house, but, on account of the sick- ness of Mrs. Buse, had not moved into it when Head reached Fergus Falls with his family. This necessitated our camping in the wagons for about a week till Mrs. Buse was able to be moved.
The day of our arrival had been a pretty strenuous one and I was tired. So about nine o'clock I crawled into my wagon bed, glad to think of the good night's rest awaiting me, with no occasion for early rising. I had just lost myself in peaceful slumber when I was awakened by the most unearthly racket that ever disturbed the sleep of civilized man. Shouts, horns, guns, cow bells and tin pans and cans all burst forth on the quiet night with their devilish din, and I was scared. No use to deny the fact, I was rigid with fright. We were out on the frontier, on the very edge of civilization, and my first thought was that we were attacked by Indians. I soon realized that the noise came from downtown, about three blocks away. Long before it ended, I came to know that a callithumpian serenade was celebrating the first marriage in Fergus Falls.
The next morning I wandered downtown to learn more about the night's disturbance. I dropped in to Sim's place. He kept a drug store in the front of the building, where the Scandia State Bank now stands, and
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a "blind pig" in the rear. He was the pioneer in the drug business, and inaugurated the system, which has prevailed ever since, of housing "sight- less pigs" in the rear of drug stores.
In the "blind pig" department of Sims' store that morning I met an old gentleman, about seventy-five years of age. His hair was white, and his long beard likewise. The fingers of his left hand were crippled and crooked, and he had the habit of almost constantly combing his whiskers with his crooked fingers. "Nefarious" was a favorite word in his vocab- ulary. The day before, he had married a widow by the name of Mary Harsh. She was well along toward seventy, and would tip the scales at near two hundred and fifty. This couple were the ones honored by the pre- vious night's demonstration.
Sims was a good deal of a wag who would sacrifice business at any time for a joke. With a very solemn face, he said: "Mr. Vickery, were you disturbed last night?" The old man set down his glass, commenced combing his beard, and, after a moment, said: "Now, I'm sayin' it to you, Mr. Sims. Just as I was gettin' into bed with the old lady last night, that nefarious noise commenced."
Soon after coming to Fergus Falls, I formed a partnership with Bert Melville under the firm name and style of "Melville & Mason, Attorneys at Law." These two legal lights burned in unison till a few weeks later, when one went out. He extinguished and distinguished himself one night by eloping with another man's wife, and the burden of a precarious practice fell upon the junior member of the firm.
Our office was over Sims' drug store, in easy visiting distance to the "blind pig" pen, where Bert generally sought rest and solace from his ardu- ous professional work.
Doctor Reynolds had his office with the before-mentioned law firm. Fleas in Fergus were thicker than flies in Egypt when Moses took his departure from that uncongenial country. The doctor was a sensitive man, particularly as to fleas, and to escape the plague at night he used to take his blankets, crawl through a scuttle hole in the ceiling and make his bed up there. Doctor Reynolds deserves more than a passing notice. He was a man who stood high in his profession; was learned in many branches out- side of medicine, and had wonderful literary ability. His girl-like modesty to a great extent kept his light under a bushel, and none but his most inti- mate acquaintances fully appreciated his great resources. A student all his life, he read the classics as readily as his mother tongue, and could express himself in prose or poetry with remarkable felicity.
He could not make a speech in public any more than a mute; but, sit down with him alone, and he could talk by the hour and it would sound as
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though he were reading from a book. He had not been here long, sur- rounded by descendants of the old Vikings, before he could read their language with the best of them, and understand it as though it were his own. Though never strong physically, his work was strenuous. The country was sparsely settled and his rides covered a wide territory. In the winter of 1873, at the time of the great blizzard, the echoes of which have not yet died away, he was alone, and no physician to give him aid. Scores were frozen to death and many more crippled for life. He worked day and night, and performed numberless operations with no assistance except that of a young lawyer by the name of D. P. Hatch, who accompanied him and rendered such aid as he was able to give. Doctor Reynolds moved to Cali- fornia in 1895 and died at Redlands, in that state, in 1898, at the age of fifty-five.
"His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, 'This was a man.'"
Until late in the fall of 1871, mail came to Fergus Falls but once a week. This was brought from Pomme de Terre, Grant county, in a two- wheeled cart, and deposited in the postoffice, a log building on Mill street just north of the First National Bank building. Henry Henningson, a German, was postmaster, and the boys used to declare that he could not read English. That accusation found some justification in his manner of handling the mail. Every Friday afternoon, about four o'clock, when the weekly mail was expected, the patrons would congregate outside of the postoffice, waiting for letters and news from civilization. When it arrived the postmaster would empty the contents on the floor, and each one could paw it over and help himself to such as he found bearing his address. Under this system one was liable to get mail for several days. Along late that fall the main line of the St. Paul & Pacific railroad was completed from St. Paul to Breckenridge. The nearest station on that line was Campbell, distant about twenty-five miles from Fergus Falls. From that time we had a daily mail, and felt that we were in touch with the outside world. George L. Nichols was taken into the postoffice as deputy postmaster, when our mail was distributed in Christian manner.
People are wont to look back at the "good old times" and deprecate the present. It is well, occasionally, to look back at those old times, and remember them just as they were. In these "good old times" all were praying for a railroad; willing to make any sacrifice; vote bonds and give right-of-way. depot grounds and the like to secure it. It is interesting to look back and think of what we were thankful for then.
In those days to go to St. Paul from Fergus Falls it took one day to
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Campbell by stage, at a fare of two dollars and fifty cents. Supper, lodging and breakfast at Campbell, one dollar and fifty cents. The next morning one took a mixed train which went as far as Willmar that day, and the fare was five cents per mile. Supper, lodging and breakfast at Willmar cost one dollar and fifty cents. The next, and the third day, landed one in St. Paul late in the afternoon. With a day spent in St. Paul and the down trip reversed, just one week was consumed in making this journey, at a cost of about thirty-one dollars for fare and hotel bills on the way.
Now, in these degenerate times, one can take his train, with diner and observation cars annexed, and go to St. Paul in five hours, at a cost of two cents per mile; and listen, as he enjoys his cigar in the smoking room, to denunciations of the railroads, their extortions, vile service and accom- modations. We are wont to forget that but for the railroads, northern Minnesota today would be a buffalo pasture; and that within the last thirty years railroad rates have declined out of all proportions to the prices of other commodities. It makes one more contented to think of these things once in a while.
Times were dull, indeed, that first winter. Business, other than trade in rat skins, was dull and law business nil. The total receipts from that honorable profession were insufficient to pay for board at the Bells Hotel. the only decent caravansary in the place, and that not much to brag about. To live within our income, A. Branderberg, one time since president of the Fergus Falls National Bank, and now cashier of the First State Bank of Fergus Falls; William H. Smith, saloon keeper, and myself determined to set up "bachelor's hall" and board ourselves. Branderberg was to be the cook and housekeeper, while Smith and I were the providers. We fitted up a kitchen and dining room combined, in the back end of Smith's saloon, took our meals there that winter and came out in fair condition in the spring.
Along about four o'clock one afternoon in mid-winter, a young man, dressed in a Prince Albert coat, silk hat and low shoes, came into my office. He introduced himself as D. P. Hatch, a graduate of Kent Hill, Maine, and a lawyer. He was looking for a location in which to practice his profes- sion. When he said he was somewhat embarrassed for want of money, I told him that there was nothing strange about that, as I knew other lawyers in the same condition. He asked me for a loan sufficient to pay the hotel for a week's board. I told him that I lacked the ready cash to comply with his request, but thought my credit at the hotel sufficient to meet his need : that we would try it anyway. I took him to the hotel, guaranteed his board for two weeks, and left him there happy. At the next election he was chosen county attorney of Otter Tail county. In the middle of his term he resigned, went to Santa Barbara, California, and was soon elected
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to the district court bench, and held the position for many years. Since his death, some three years ago, he has, by the hand of a female spiritualistic medium, written his experiences in the world beyond, and his amanuensis has published the book. If the medium's story be doubted, there is the book, published and on sale, in Los Angeles, California. What better proof can one ask?
The monotony of pioneer life was broken one day in the summer of 1871, when an excursion party came to the village, across country from the Northern Pacific railroad, then building north of us through Becker county. In this party were such celebrities as Bayard Taylor, Governor Hawley, Charles A. Dana and others whose names have escaped me. They camped on the bank of the river, ate, drank and walked on two legs just like ordinary mortals. It was on this trip, as they passed Elizabeth city, that Taylor dis- covered a "dam by a mill site, but no mill by a dam site." He used this expression, without quotation marks, in his written account of the journey and I think him the originator of it. This distinguished party was enter- tained by the villagers in a manner highly gratifying to all concerned; nor was the opportunity lost for a little advertising. The advantages of the "coming city" were duly portrayed; the mildness of the climate, invigor- ating atmosphere and open winters loudly extolled. After their evening meal the temper and mettle of our denizens were illustrated by Melville, who gave an exhibition with his trick mule. The mule was a natural curi- osity. It was not much bigger than a yearling calf, and had developed as great a taste for beer as its owner had for whiskey, and would indulge its appetite at every opportunity, till it was hard to tell which was the drunker, Melville or the mule. Melville was always full, and on occasion would fill up the mule, and the trick was to see how far he could ride the brute away from Sims' "blind pig" in any given direction. They never got far, and Melville always laid it to the mule.
To see these celebrities laughing over the performance, showed that they had many traits in common with ordinary mortals. Taylor said he had traveled in many lands, observed human nature under many circum- stances and conditions, but never before had he seen such manly traits in the mule. Of course, we all took pride in such a visit of notables, but it was a mere baby event to the one in store for us that fall. We had all heard and read of these men. Taylor's poems and travels were familiar; who that ever read the New York Sun did not want to see Dana? and a lively curiosity was felt in the whole party, but after all, they were only Americans. But when the great Gordon-Gordon, milord, a real, live Eng- lish lord, set foot upon our soil, it seemed that the ground on which he trod became holy and consecrated to his greatness.
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"Great man; the people gazed and wondered much, And all, to do him honor took delight."'
This Lord Gordon-Gordon was a reputed capitalist and philanthropist combined. He was expected to purchase and improve Fergus waterpowers; buy up and colonize with immigrants from the old world great tracts of land surrounding the coming city, and make our bleak wilderness one vast garden of fruits and flowers. To our credulity, nothing was impossible for milord. His very nod could change blizzard blasts to tropic zephyrs, and hang the horn of plenty within the reach of all. His lordship proved to be an imposter and a bastard, and the most meritorious act of his whole swindling career was the shooting himself dead when arrested in Winnipeg, where he sought refuge from crimes committed in New York.
Cities, like persons, have their individualities, and as the "child is father of the man," so early characteristics of a growing village, shape, in a measure, the character of a community after it has grown to city size. Our pioneers were a curious people in many respects, and as I look back I can see that they were a humorous people, though I never suspected it in those early days.
Like inhabitants of many new towns, they were divided into factions, and their humorous qualities were often exhibited in the conduct of these different factions towards each other. I used to think that those differences were real and in earnest, but can now see that many of them should have been taken in a Pickwickian sense. How could it have been otherwise? There was a young, ambitious town, with all the natural advantages which have so materially contributed to its present greatness. There was a people with one object in view-success-and to think they seriously stood in their own road to that success is hard to believe.
It would not be true to say that their quarrels assumed either a dis- tinctively religious, political or social form. It mattered not what might be grading and sidewalking of a street, or the election of a pound master-the the project of one faction-was it for the establishment of a new church, the other faction at once saw in the scheme an ulterior design on the liberties of the people and the eventual destruction of the business prosperity of the whole community ; and the humor of it was, they talked and acted just as though they seriously believed it. Of course, our city is altered and its growth has made many changes, but there is hardly an old landmark within the city limits that does not stand as a monument to some wordy battle of the pioneers. Not that these conflicts were waged where the monuments stand. No, they were fought at long range, around the headquarters of the patriarchs of each particular clan, while none of the enemy was present to molest or make them afraid. Whenever any of the opposition was present, everything was so quiet that it would have required the use of an audiphone
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to hear a peep. I do not recall that any real battles were fought, but I shudder when I think how near they came to it-in their mind.
CASUS BELLI.
The underlying cause of the factional war of Fergus Falls, which was of greater duration than the War of the Roses, is difficult to state with any degree of exactitude. It was, doubtless, due, in a great measure, to the temperamental qualities of the belligerents. It is not easy to get into the minds of men and see just what is taking place there, though the results of mental processes, when converted into action, may be readily noted.
Neither side in the War of the Factions ever put out a Blue Book or a Red Book, setting forth to the world their respective justifications, hence the underlying causes must ever remain a mystery. The very first act of hostility, undertaken without any open declaration of war, took place away back in 1871, when Jacob Austin commenced "to grade down the hill on Lincoln avenue in front of his hardware store.
The east two-thirds of Lincoln avenue, between Court and Mill streets, was a high and level tract. At the west end of this level part of the avenue the ground took a sudden drop to the west towards Court street. so that Lincoln avenue at the last-named street was some thirty feet lower than at Mill street.
Mr. Austin erected a large store-by far the best building in town- at the foot of the hill. At his own expense he hired men and teams and set them to work grading down this hill. At that time there was no village organization; it was still a part of the township organization. Tige Ulwe- gan. a big Norsk, was pathmaster of the road district. Austin's men and teams had not been at work a great while before the opposition, in great haste and much perturbed, sought out Tige, who was a clerk in Cowing's store. and made complaint to him that Austin was tearing up and working ruin to Lincoln avenue; that such action was an outrage and a crime, con- trary to the constitution and laws of the state, and that it was his sworn duty as guardian of the roads and streets of the town to suppress Austin's activities.
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