Local History by David Hanson of Gheen

David & Gwen live near the Gheen Corners. They operate a Green House each Spring.

David taught school in Cook for many years, he has constructed many rock fireplaces.
   
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, February 10, 2008

 

BAND OF BROTHERS

Dave Hanson

 

While dad’s brothers were off in the service, dad was working on the home front.

 

I’ll start when I was a baby, so I’m only going on my memory from stories I heard long ago.  As I got a little older, I do remember some of it.

 

Dad only went to school for 8 years.  If he had gone on, he would have had to board out in Virginia to attend high school.  When the 9th grade kids in town were in school, he was helping grandpa in the woods and on the farm.

 

When the Hanson boys were in their late teens, they built a laundry building for their mother.  It was so hot from boiling water to can food and wash clothes in the house that it was hard to sleep upstairs.  They also built a hay barn.

 

Dad’s first carpenter job was to frame Sulo Harkonen’s building two miles west of the Gheen corner.  That building is still there.  He had to buy some basic tools, but he borrowed the rest from Gust Parson.  Sulo finished the building.  This was in the Depression.  He built the bridge forms over the railroad for the state in Orr.  That bridge has been replaced.  He was hired to teach the CCC boys how to build the barracks at Cusson.  He was a little too old at that time to be in the CCC’s.

 

In between these jobs he worked in the woods.  He hewed railroad ties for the railroad that went from Old Gheen to Nett Lake when he was newly wed.  Jobs were hard to come by.

 

He got a job at a resort on Spider Lake, Wisconsin, and moved the family down there.  Ray Brewer, dad, and a crew were building cabins.  That’s when I was 2 ˝ and my brother, Laurence, who was 1 ˝, drowned. 

 

He landed a carpenter job on a housing project in Pennsylvania.  After 2 weeks he was superintendent on that 250 unit project.  Dad remodeled his Model A Ford into a wood-paneled station wagon.

 

When he left, his buddy, L.D. Gustafson in Cook, said, “Herbie, if you get a job, let me know.”

 

Dad moved the family again out east.  Dad called up L.D. and told him he had a carpenter job, and to come out.  L.D. broke his wrist or ankle and had to come back to Cook.

 

Dad had a spot on his lung, so they wouldn’t consider him for the draft in the service.  He thought he got T.B. when he was 19 working underground in Ely.

 

The Austin Company was a business that built large projects.  The war was heating up in Europe.  Poland had been invaded 2 ˝ years before and England was threatened.  This country was shut down by the depression and the feeling was that we would be in the war sooner or later.  Roosevelt and most of the government didn’t want to get into the war.  Some aid started pouring into Europe from the states.  Some factories started retooling to build tanks, jeeps, and equipment to sell to other countries.  I don’t think Japan bombed Pearl Harbor yet.

 

After the housing project was done, the Austin Company started an airplane factory at Des Plaines near O’Hare field in Chicago.

 

I remember waking up on the train when we entered Chicago through bleary, tired eyes.  I saw the thousands of colored Christmas tree lights as mom and my sister rode into the station to meet dad.

 

Dad was good at math and knew how to read blueprints, and had a little bit of B.S., I suppose.  He told me years ago that a superintendent was a “professional son of a bitch.”  He had to fire a man in Pennsylvania because dad made a mistake of letting a few incidents slip by and the man started acting friendly and putting his arm over dad’s shoulder.  He felt bad about firing him because he had a family.

 

The Des Plaines job was an all wood bomber factory.  The steel mills were down from the depression and all available steel was going into the war effort.  The plant had to be wide enough so the huge planes could roll out the end of the building.  No pillars or posts could be used to hold the roof up, so the building had to be twice as tall as a steel building.  The upper half was wood trusses.

 

As soon as the long 40 acre building was started, machines were installed and they started building airplanes.  As the factory progressed, airplanes were rolling along on the assembly line inside.

 

Mom knew nothing about dad’s job as it was top secret.  He couldn’t tell her anything.  There was always a threat that somehow word would get out and a saboteur would kidnap mom and us kids.  She knew it was a government job, and didn’t ask questions, just like a Mafia wife.

 

Two weeks after the building was done, airplanes were rolling out the end doors.

 

By then, we were in the war for the duration.  People don’t realize how fast the country mobilized.  The mines and mills were in full production.  A lot of towns on the coast and in Duluth harbor started building ships.  They were smaller here because they had to get through the Soo and Welland Locks to get to the Atlantic.  A lot of steel and metals were being used.  The automobile factories suspended building cars, and went into building airplane motors, jeeps, tanks, and army trucks.

 

Henry Ford had training manuals to train his factory workers.  The army used the manuals and had crash courses to teach the boys in the service how to become mechanics and maintain the war equipment.  Caterpillar manuals were converted into tank manuals.  General Motors built airplane motors.  The Air Force wasn’t formed yet, so the Army had an air force and the Navy had their airplanes and pilots.

 

England was being bombed and no one knew if they could hold out, so it was near panic and a feverish pitch to complete the projects and get to keep the war effort going.

 

The kids were saving tin foil for the war effort.  The Boy Scouts were collecting scrap iron.  That’s why metal antiques aren’t common.  Fat was collected to make glycerin for explosives.  Any iron that wasn’t nailed down was collected.  Aluminum pans were used for airplanes.  Food was rationed and a tremendous amount of farm products went into food for the armed forces.  A lot of supplies and food went to other countries also, who were fighting on our side.  Gas was rationed for the same reason.

 

It was almost impossible to get tires.  All the rubber from the South Pacific was taken over by Japan.  Synthetic rubber was developed out of oil.  The tires went for planes, jeeps, and truck tires.  Nylon was used as synthetic silk for parachutes.

 

I remember stories of rationing stamps being traded by neighbors.  Some didn’t drink coffee and they were traded for sugar stamps.  Some saved them.  When the war was over, they had skimped on things and the stamps were of no use anymore.

 

People bought war bonds to finance the war.  Almost everyone had someone overseas in the war.

 

Those small flags with a star were hanging in many, many windows.  Mom and wives didn’t know if they would ever see their loved ones again.  Some never did.

 

After a few months, dad and mom packed up us kids and headed for Oklahoma City.  Each Austin Company job was larger than the last.  Dad was 32 years old and they called him “The Boy Super.”

 

The Oklahoma plant was so large, the job was divided into shop and material, and site work and construction.  Red Parish was the shop superintendent and dad did the construction.

 

Dad had trouble right away when the engineers went on strike.  Dad had to do something, so the next morning he asked his foremen to round up all the college math students on the labor crews.  He selected about 20 kids and gave them a crash course on surveying.  They laid out most of the foundation and in a couple of days the engineers came back.  He didn’t have any trouble after that with his crews.

 

Dad had ulcers for years.  He had his own office on wheels and had his own jeep and chauffeur.  The office was pulled all over the job as it progressed.  They have a converted semi van office like that on modern jobs. 

 

Each morning he had a meeting with all the foremen.  But they had to check the blue prints constantly.  He always said an architect should be a carpenter before he goes to college.  Sometimes plumbing pipes on the plans went through where heating and cooling ducts were planned.  Electric cables ran through places on the plans were concrete walls were.  They changed the plans and kept the building going.

 

That was the best money dad had ever made, but the jobs only lasted a few months and they had to move again.

 

Some asked dad why he got into that strike mess, and he told them “I’ve got brothers out there and I’m not going to let anything or anyone hold up this job.”

 

The next job was in Fort Worth, Texas.  This was an all steel building, so they didn’t need a carpenter superintendent.

 

Dad went downtown Fort Worth and poured over plant books in the library.  He showed up at the Austin Co. office and recommended that they use native plants, shrubs, and trees that would be easy to obtain nearby and wouldn’t die in a year or two.  He got the superintendent job for site preparation and the landscaping project.  He had 5000 men on his crew.

 

He called up Ray Brewer, from Hayward, and told him to get a crew of lumberjacks and get down there as soon as possible.  They had to clear the site for the 65 acre factory.

 

There was a lot of scrub oak on the land.  One day dad stopped his pickup and watched a prizefighter looking man hacking on an 8 inch oak tree.  Dad laughed, and the guy said, “I suppose you can do better?”  Dad said, “I think I can.”  Dad had been working in the woods since he was a kid.  He told me he had a brand new double bit axe in the back of the pickup.  About 4 good chips from each side of the tree and it went down.  The men on the crew stood there in disbelief.  They had never seen any boss work.  Bosses were all sons of rich people and never did manual labor.

 

Once the Wisconsin men cleared the site, and bulldozed, and dug the foundation area, the building went up.

 

They dug up some 40 foot high trees.  By digging trenches around and tying up the root balls with burlap and rope, the trees were moved by flatbed trucks and planted.

 

He wanted shrubs to be planted randomly instead of in rows or hedges.  Dad got a bunch of different colored marbles and tossed them in the air.  Wherever they landed, he had stakes that corresponded with the color pounded in.  The bushes were planted by the following crews.  Sycamores, live Oak, Magnolias.  There are a lot of southern plants to choose from.  They planted acres of sod.   Concrete sidewalks and parking lots were prepared.

 

The strain was so bad, dad finished that job and quit and moved to L.A.  We lived in a housing project called Channel Heights overlooking Long Beach shipyard.  I remember the huge tank farm right behind where we lived.  There were millions of gallons of gas and fuel stored in those round, flat topped tanks.  I remember the thousands of blimps, for miles around L.A. that were kept tied down with cables.  They had numerous small chains hanging down in case Japanese airplanes invaded the U.S. and tried to bomb.  The planes would tangle in the chains.

 

Long Beach ship yard was the largest naval facility on the West Coast.  They had dry docks there where blown up ships were floated in and large doors closed and the water was pumped out.

 

The ship yards were swimming with workers welding and repairing ships, and refitting them so they could go back to sea.  Also captured ships were stripped and converted into troop transports.  Dad remembered an Italian luxury liner that was stripped of mahogany and teak paneling.  Also the brass railings were stripped and scrapped.  Some marble steps were thrown away, also.  What couldn’t be salvaged was burned.

 

Dad was the shop boss and the yard had every kind of power tool there was.  Most of the young men were overseas so the crews were made up of a lot of women and older men and slightly disabled men.

 

Rosy the Riveter posters were all over.  They were welders, railroad section gang workers, they wired airplanes, drove trucks, manned the factories and did every job men had done before.  Dad liked the Navaho workers from Arizona.  They had never been in town before, but became the best welders.

 

The yard had a submarine net all the way around the L.A. harbor.  When they pumped out the dry docks, small fish had to be carried out of the bottom.  Sailors would carry them in pails and take them down to a dock where a young whale was waiting.  They tossed the fish into his mouth.  It swam out into the Pacific and the sub nets were closed.  If it was in by the dock, the frogmen would go out and patch the hole in the net.  It became a kind of mascot.

 

We had all kinds of neighbors in the housing project.  I was only four, but  remember the ice man carrying ice into the house.  We would bum ice chips from the back of his truck from him.    One time our dog, Tootsy, tore the mailman’s pants leg, and mom was teary-eyed and sewed the rip up.

 

I remember Joylene Bareros.  Her family was Pilipino and lived one house above us in the project.  She was my sister Marion’s age and a year older than me.

 

Some people from Arkansas lived across the street.  Another family by the name of Whipple lived across the street also.  Dad and Mr. Whipple both build home made trailers together.  The war was nearly over and I know now most people just wanted to move back home.

 

We learned what Black Widow Spiders were on the screen windows, and what tarantellas were from the older kids.

 

The only planes I could identify were the double fuselage P 38’s roaring overhead. 

 

When the war was over, my sister, Marion, had been in 3 schools and the folks decided it would be better to live in the woods back home.  They had enough stress and moving around to last a lifetime.  A lot of people thought dad was crazy to leave high paying jobs to come back to Gheen.

 

“All dads’ brothers came home.”

 

I thank all the people who kept the war from coming over here.  They did sink a Japanese sub in the L.A. harbor.  They didn’t let it be known until the war was over.  People would have panicked.  Mom remembered the ground shaking when those huge guns fired a few times.  German subs were on the east coast watching.  Thanks to the miners on the Range.  Thanks to the women who took over.  Thanks to the corporations.  If our country was set up like India and China in the 1940’s we would have lost for sure.

 

My brother has the old picture album that was filled after the house burned in 1948.  There is a letter of recommendation, “To Whom it may Concern,” dad got when he left the Austin Company in the album.  That didn’t get burned up.  The little tin strongbox was the  first thing they got out of the burning house.

  

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Saturday, February 09, 2008

 

UNCLE GEORGE

Dave Hanson

 

George Hanson was born in 1911.  He was a year younger than dad.  He, like dad, was born in Soudan and was seven when they moved to Gheen.

 

They had to walk to the Gorence School about 2 miles south of the home place.  When the Gorence School burned down, they walked to the Sundquist School.  That was located where George Luecken’s farm is today, 2 miles west and a mile north of the old Hanson place.

 

One day the kids were up home and some kids were over during the summer vacation.  Dad got a chair and climbed up to reach the revolver he carried to school each day in the cabinet above the closet.  Dad was showing the company how the action worked on the empty revolver.  The gun was pointing down and the empty gun went off, hitting George in the belly.

                                                                                     

Grandpa never drove.  At that time no one had a car in the family.  I don’t know the details, or how they got to the hospital in Soudan.  But that was the nearest hospital.  Lucky George was chubby.  The bullet went in one side and was just under the skin on the other side.  It only went through his fat and it didn’t hit anything vital or muscles.  The kids had always been taught not to point a gun at anyone.  That gun was always emptied.  Grandpa checked it, too.  It was really a lesson for everyone.  When these accidents happen sometimes, we understand how easy it can happen.  Most of the people up here have guns and don’t put blame on anyone when an accident happens.

 

George and dad were pretty close all through life.  Dad and George would go hunting and ask grandma, “What do you want for supper?”  They hardly ever went more than a half mile from home to get rabbit or partridge for the large family.  At that time, the second growth was lush after the logging companies had cleared the land.

 

As the kids got a little older, dad liked the farm work and chores better, and George liked to hunt.  Dad always said George was the best hunter in the country.

 

They had some scaffolds in the trees on deer trails.  They had a couple of salt licks for the deer, too.

 

It was illegal to hunt in the summer, but they needed the meat and never wasted it.  The game wardens were understanding and let it be known not to advertise.  Some got drunk and bragged, and the warden had to get a warrant and search the property.

 

One time dad told of George getting caught by a game warden.  In those days, people got a bounty on timber wolves.  George told him he had a couple of wolf traps half way to Pelican Lake.  So they took off walking north.  It’s about a 4 by 4 mile square without a road.  George was used to walking and kept saying the traps were a little farther.  After a couple of hours, the portly warden was nearly crying from exhaustion.  George walked about 500 feet and they came out next to the house.  He had been walking in circles in all his familiar woods.

 

George started notching his rifle and quit when he ran out of space.  One time he shot a deer south of home on the township road.  When he bent over to cut it’s throat, he straddled it and grabbed an antler and it woke up.  It had been knocked out.  George was about 13 and wasn’t going to let it go.  He kept riding it and stabbing it’s throat with his knife.  It finally went down by Willow River.  Grandpa and dad went down to help dress it out.  Grandpa said the neck was like hamburger.

 

During the depression, George and a man from Chisholm had a gold mine in Redding, California by Lake Shasta.  He said they could sleep outside all summer and there were no bugs or rain.

 

They had a drift slopping down a couple of hundred feet and were following an old river channel.  The gold settles out in cracks in the bedrock and that is what they were looking for.

 

He said they made enough to buy beans, so it wasn’t any different than cutting pulpwood here.  But there was always a chance to hit the jack pot.  He offered me his claim if I wanted it years later.

 

When George was in WWII, he was building a dam on the Yellow River in China.  He said, “Those people work for us in the day and then they come in and blow it up at night.”  Even when they were fighting Japan, Mao tse tung was leading the Communist revolution, but no one knew about it until the war was over.

 

After the war George worked in China. George became a superintendent for a diamond drill company.  They worked on many jobs for hydro electric dam projects.  They had to drill 6 inch holes hundreds of feet deep and drill in a 6 foot grid all the way around where the dam would be built.  These holes were filled with concrete grout to fill up all the cracks and caves.  Otherwise, when the dam fills up with water a seep can erode the foundation away and the dam will fail.

 

He told me one time they were working out east on the east side of the Appalachian Mountains and were making storage facilities for our nuclear arsenals.  They poured concrete floors in miles and miles of caves so trucks could drive around.  He said one time during the Cold War, they knew of some Soviet spies, so they gave them a guided tour of those caves.  It was explained to me one time in 1965 that an atomic bomb like they used in Japan was like a firecracker compared to a hydrogen bomb.  They use an atomic bomb for a trigger.  Some say a hydrogen bomb is like a firecracker compared to a cobalt bomb (doomsday bomb.)  When the Soviet diplomats saw what was stored in those depositories, they didn’t want ever to start a war.  There are enough munitions in there to turn this planet into a sun many times over.

 

George was the superintendent on the missile silos buried all around the Grand Forks, North Dakota airbase.

 

It was eerie when Gwen and I used to go to Lakota, N. Dakota to visit her relatives.  Those little square fences scattered around the country had intercontinental ballistics missiles with hydrogen bombs aimed for Russia.  I think they have disarmed them now.

 

George married in Boise, Idaho and Edna and George had one girl, Colleen.  I never knew her.  We’ve only met a couple of times as kids.  Edna died and George married again.

 

Dad died Dec. 27.  I called George that night and told him the bad news.  The next day Elsie called me and told me the bad news that George died. 

 

Two brothers a year apart, died one day apart.

 

The sons of Oscar Hanson that served in the Second World War

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2008


 

NORTHERN INGENUITY     

Dave Hanson

 

When a blacksmith, John Deere, took an old saw blade and invented the steel plow, it changed the way people farmed.  The people figured if land couldn’t grow trees, the ground was not very good.  The plow opened up the prairie grasslands of the Great Plaines. 

 

Eli Whitney made work a lot easier with his cotton gin, which combed the seeds out of cotton bolls.

 

Thomas Edison was lucky enough to make a fortune on his phonograph.  He had enough money to work at what he wanted for the rest of his life.  He was a tinkerer and hired a lot of people to help develop all his ideas.

 

I’ve read about foxfire (methane gas) catching on fire in the ditches of the south east US.  It’s heavier than air and lies on top of swamp water in ditches and catches on fire once in awhile.  A guy in England started making it out of chicken manure in his garage.  The last time I read about him, he had about 300,000 miles on his 1953 Ford he fueled with it.

 

Most inventions and gadgets up here were to save labor.

 

When I was a kid, most people used mechanical devices.  Hydraulics became more popular after WW II.  The first hoists I heard of were made by Helstrom in Cook.  These cable hoists were used for logging and were quite popular.

 

Lyno Lehman, from Greaney, made his skidders out of  Allis Chalmers farm tractors and a V-8 motor in his unit.  There were no front tires and it had hinged steering like the later Timberjack skidders.  The bed had a rack for the wood with power wheels underneath.  He skidded 2 cords of pulpwood every trip.

 

People around here had a lot of ideas.  They read a lot and got ideas for their projects.  Some were common sense.

 

The Gorence boys made a potato chopper out of a wood spoked wheel.  They put a crank on it and flattened  each spoke which they screwed sharpened blades on.  A wood board sloped down as each spud fell in, all those spokes chipped up the potatoes.  Cows choke on round potatoes.  It was the kids job to cut them so the cows could chew them.  They fed a lot of potatoes, rutabagas, and carrots to the cows instead of ground feed years ago.

 

Did Delmer Hard build his airplane that he flew up here to Cook?

 

Lauri Havari lived on the north side of Gheen Hill.  He worked for the railroad.  Lauri invented a rail road jack in his shop.  It made work a lot easier for the section crew.  It worked so well, the master from Duluth asked him if he could take it and make some just like it for the railroad.  Lauri said OK.  They used those jacks all over the US and Lauri didn’t get a cent out of it.

 

Nester Sirro lived north of Orr and built some of the first slashers and later that business set up shop at the Angora corner.

 

John Ollila told me he had sharpened one edge of a leaf spring.  He nailed one end to the side of a tree and used it as a knife to split cedar shingles for his farm buildings.

 

I don’t know what his name was, but a guy in Canada invented the conibear trap that kills the animal.  That revolutionized trapping.

 

The Kings invented the wild rice processing machines for their business at Nett Lake.

 

When dad was a teenager, he built a shingle mill.  The carriage was about 2x3 ft. made from angle irons with square notches about an inch apart.  The carriage carried an 18 inch block of cedar and ran parallel to the buzz saw blade.  By alternating one notch at a time, it cut 18 inch long wedge shaped shingles.  They cut shingles for the buildings on the home place with it.  Fifty years later, I dug it out of the scrap iron pile and put new wheels (V belt pulleys) on and oiled it up and we cut shingles in 1975 for a new roof dad put on his house.

 

Ted Melgeorge used his wood splitter on his cat to split the cedar shingles for his lodge on Elephant Lake.  He bought an old ready-mix unit and poured his own foundation for the lodge.  He took the 4x8 ft. plywood forms and used them for sheathing on the walls.  Ted built a hydraulic boat lift on his resort with a 3 in. cylinder to tip the boats for washing. 

 

Melvin Johnson, from Greaney, built a sawmill years ago.  Dad visited him and looked at other mills and built a sawmill out of old car parts.  He got a saw mandrill and a solid tooth saw somewhere, and used his old 1948 Roadmaster Buick for a power unit.  He cut off one side of a Buick rear end and blocked it and drove a drive shaft from the other hub directly onto the saw mandrill with U-joints.  The automatic transmission slipped if the saw jammed.  It was just like putting on the brakes, so if it jammed up, it wouldn’t tear everything apart like a standard transmission would.  He probably sawed 100,000 board feet or more with it.  The wood is rotted out now, but the parts are all there.

 

Willard Pearson made many trailers in his days.  It’s hard to weld the hubs on an axel parallel.  If they are off at all, they wear the tires out.  He tells of waking up one morning and it came to him in a dream, to take the two wheels bolted to the hubs with the tires off, and place them in a channel iron.  That way he could move them as far apart as he wanted and weld the pipe in between and they would be perfect. 

 

Necessity is the father of invention.  Sometimes just using old ideas, people made what they needed.

 

Some built stuff just for their hobby.  Ronnie Poquette, from Greaney, built his ham radio outfit when he was a kid.

 

When I’ve interviewed old timers, I’ve heard at least two unrelated kids tell of taking a crosscut saw and sawing four wheels off the end of a log to make their carts.  If two kids grew up miles and miles apart and did that, there must have been hundreds of kids doing it all over the country.

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2008


 

LULLABY

Dave Hanson

 

I saw a TV show about a gang of colored Gandy Dancers one time.  They all had iron bars and were singing in rhythm and all prying the rails over at the same time.

 

On the old sailing ships, the sailors all chanted the sailor songs as they pulled and hoisted those huge sails up.  Even in the 1930’s there were still some Swedish and Finnish steel hulled sailing ships hauling coal out of, or to, New Zealand and Tasmania.

 

All over the world mothers sang lullabies to the babies to put them to sleep.  People all over the world wrapped and tied the babies on boards and hung them in a tree branch while the women worked.  “Rock a Bye Baby in the Tree Top” we used to hum that before we went to school.

 

We never had music class in our one room school in Gheen, but we had those paper back music books they used at town meetings and social gatherings.  “101 Best Songs.”  We sang a song or two each morning.

 

Dad and mom always sang in the front seat of the car on our trips.  “Hi-diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, and the cow jumped over the moon.”  “Ka-ka-ka-katie,”  “Golden Wedding Day.”  “Bye Bye Blackbird.”  “Beautiful Dreamer.”  We kids at school sang “I’m Looking Over a Four Leafed Clover,”  “Flies in the Buttermilk, Shoo fly Shoo.”  “Clementine.”  And “She’ll be coming around the Mountain.”

 

My sister, Marion, always sang.  She was better than I was.  I had stage fright and my knees shook.  But when I was committed, I couldn’t back out.  No one ever did.

 

When we got older, we sang more complicated songs and songs we learned in music class in Orr.  “Get Along Home, Cindy, Cindy, I’ll Marry you some Day.”  “When I grow too Old to Dream, I’ll have you to Remember.”  “Down by the Old Mill Stream.”

 

We sang rounds like “Row, Row, Row your Boat.”

 

Barbara Seid gave mom some old 78 RPM albums.  They were scratched, but we played them on a little crank-up phonograph we got from Sears and Roebuck.  The ones I remember were “Among my Souveniers,”  Connie Francis sang that years later.  An Italian song, “Laugh, Clown, Laugh.” And a bunch of Al Jolson songs.  I remember “Aba Dabba Honeymoon” being on the radio in the 7th grade.  We didn’t have TV, but listened to the radio at home and in the car.

 

I remember Ernie Landgren singing “Stranger in Paradise,” from the movie, Student Prince.  The song I remember most was beautiful.  The three Pentala girls sang “In my Sweet Little Alice Blue Gown, as I wandered one day into town, I was both proud and shy, as I felt every eye, and I peeked in each window on passing by.  I wore it, and wore it until it was no more.  I’ll always remember my sweet little Alice  Blue Gown.”  They harmonized.  Deloris Zika, Alice Antikinen, and Bev Sheurring.  No one used microphones in those days and everyone could hear in the whole gym.  They had no accompaniment, but they didn’t need it.

 

One time Matt Matson, Alice Matson’s husband, sang in his deep base voice, “Mother McCree” on Mothers’ Day at the club hall.  Matt had asthma, but he did it anyway.  Matt had done a lot of things in his life.  He was an extra when he was young in the silent movies.  He said he got allergic to rye flour in a bakery.  He was a deputy sheriff and moved up to Gheen and raised potatoes.

 

One time we were in the old gym in Cook which is the hot lunch room now, and Keith Aho sang “Lucky Old Sun.”  That was a hit.

 

The hardest song I sang was, “On the Road to Mandalay” in high school, and “Jerusalem” at the Baptist Church in Cook.  I’ve got asthma now and don’t sing much anymore.

 

When Willard Pearson was in the 7 or 8th grade he would volunteer a song.  The teacher would ask what song should we sing?  Willard said “Page 34.”  They all turned to 34 and it was “Three Blind Mice.”  A few days later, “What song shall we sing?”  “Page 34.”  They all would turn to 34, “Three Blind Mice.”  A few days later after singing a few songs, “What next?”  “Page 34.”  He laughs when he tells it.  

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2008

 

SKIPPING SCHOOL

Dave Hanson

 

I never thought my folks were teaching me anything.  We liked to listen to the grownups visit.  Most of the time if we kept quiet, we could hang around.  If we started squabbling, we had to get outside. People worked a lot harder, but few people had shift work or had to sleep in the daytime, so everyone had the same time each evening to visit.  People were going over to each other’s place for coffee.  Not many went very far.

 

I only remember visiting mom’s friend, Elsie and Johnny Wiljenen in Virginia every other year.  We took a trip to Tower to see dad’s relatives once a year if we were lucky.

 

I think some stories we heard were not meant for our ears.  We were supposed to be sleeping.

 

Dad started school when he was 5 in Soudan.  He told a story over coffee, one night, about some Carlson kid and dad in the first grade had been so good that year, that the teacher gave those two the last day off from school.   

 

They had made squirt guns out of a section of bamboo.  By drilling a hole in the end of one joint and winding string around a stick for a plunger, they could suck up a half a cup of water.  Push on the plunger and it would squirt.  It took half a day for them to think of something to do.  In 1915 they still had wood sidewalks in Soudan about 3 ft. above the mud and manure street level.  They got under there and one watched and the other got ready.  Ladies wore dresses in those days.  Dad said they ran and hid in a field of tall grass so they didn’t get caught.

 

I heard of the kids in Orr skipping and going up on the bluff overlooking Pelican Lake on Lammi’s Hill.

 

One time Jesse Laakkonen and I took off hitch hiking to Eveleth.  The team bus passed us up on the outskirts of Cook.  They were headed to Eveleth for a baseball game.  We had good luck getting rides, and knew enough to stay close to the edge of towns when the cars were going slow.  If you were out a mile or two, no one would stop.  The speed limit was 65 MPH on all the roads in those days and 30 in town.  No one but old ladies went the limit, most people went 75 or faster on the tar, and as fast as you could on gravel.

 

It probably was the second inning when we got there.  About the seventh, we figured we had better start back so we could jump the busses and get a ride home.

 

We got a ride right away and couldn’t get a ride north of the hospital in Virginia, so we started walking. When the team bus was coming up Lookout Mountain, the bus stopped and picked two sunburned kids up.  Walt Salmi was our social studies teacher and also the coach.  He said if we were men enough to come all the way down to watch the game, the least he could do was give us a ride.  We jumped off the game bus and caught our busses just south of Orr.

 

No one said anything the next day until we were sneaking out the door to get on the bus to go home.  Evelyn Abrahamson was the secretary and said, “Where were you yesterday?”  We took off running and got on the bus.

 

A lot of kids stayed home with stomach aches.  A lot of boys were sick when the suckers were running.  A few got sick during deer season.

 

One kid skipped and was crawling around in the attic of Cook High School.  He slipped and his foot came through the ceiling and knocked down some tile.  I think it was the English room.

 

We went under the stage in Orr School.  That was the gym years ago and now the hot lunch room.

 

“Where’s Leon Hunt?”  He’s reading in the library.  I think I remember some one saying Doug Ahlgren read every book in the Cook Library.  If the story is right, he sat on the floor between the shelves and read.  Let me know if that isn’t true.  I never saw it, just heard about it.

 

I heard of some kids sneaking out the window on the first floor of Cook School when the teacher fell asleep, and went swimming in Littlefork River where Picek’s house is today.  One day Charlene Poole is supposed to have gone over there and stole all the boys’ clothes.  I don’t know how those jaybirds got home.  I suppose they had to sneak through the brush.  Most of the time they got dressed and climbed back in the windows before the bell rang.

 

Junioritis is a disease that went around Orr in the spring, but Senioritis was a lot worse.  They used to have epidemics once in awhile.

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, January 27, 2008

 

COUNTY GARAGE

Dave Hanson

 

I’m not sure, but I think the county garages that scattered the country were built in the depression as WPA projects. (Works Progress Administration.)  The federal government agency was trying to get the economy going again by building things like the stone wall in Orr by the park and across the road at the base of the hill at the State Forestry Building.  The men were hired all over the country.  The stone walls at the Grand Canyon lookout were built then, too.  On the North Shore there were stone walls built every few miles at the lookouts where people stopped their cars to picnic and take photos.  A lot of stone walls 2 or 3 feet high were built in the Rocky Mts. as guard rails.  The sky line drive on the top of the hill in Duluth had them, too.  Appalachia was full of stonework and so around the Mammoth Cave.

 

We pass a large public garage when we leave the highway in Wakefield Michigan to head north to  Ontonagon to visit our son, Brad.  That is split stone.

 

All the county garages here were poured concrete.  The garage in Willow Valley is 6 miles west of the Gheen corner.  Rudy Starich was the grader man for the county when I was a kid.  He owned the property surrounding the building.  I suppose the county owned the one acre where the garage stands today.  George Lueken owns it now.  Most of the garages were two or three stalls.  The grader and a truck or trucks were housed there.  Carl Seid was the boss and he lived one mile north on the Range Line Road.  Some road crew members usually lived within walking distance so they could get the grader out in a snowstorm.  In the late 1940’s they didn’t have big trucks like today, so the grader had a V plow mounted on the front and a wing to push snow off to the side of the road.  I think most of those road maintainers, as the old folks called them, were Caterpillars.  Years ago when cars were first coming into the country, a generation before my time, small steel graders were pulled behind a small truck.  Later, the graders were the most powerful piece of equipment with rubber tires the road crew had.  They very seldom plowed the township roads.

 

Until 1950 people were hired to put up snow fences about 20 or 30 feet from the road.  These were steel posts pounded in and 4 foot high lath fences were hung on the posts.  As the wind blew, the snow settled out and drifted behind the fence before it got to the road.

 

The grader plowed the snow during and after the storms.  They never salted the roads like now.  I remember our bus driver, Gust Parson, saying the gravel roads were rough and washboardy in the summer so the school bus had to go slow or it would shake apart.  “They get smooth as a race track in the winter.”  The bus went twice as fast on the smooth road.

 

I remember the trucks being much smaller than today.  They did mix salt with a few tons of sand each year and salted dangerous spots.  I remember the boss, Carl Seid, up in a dump truck shoveling and spreading sand where the county road meets highway 53 when it was slippery.  I remember when the trucks got the little spreaders on the back so they could lift the dump box and spread sand without someone up there doing it by hand.

 

Rudy Starich was one of the best grader men around.  One time dad had me run down to the road in the summer and flag Rudy down.  I was waving both arms in the air.  Dad asked Rudy if he could ditch our driveway.  Sure.  Rudy slanted the blade down and the edge dug a ditch, on both sides of the driveway.  It took about 5 minutes to do 75 feet on both sides and away Rudy went down the road grading again.

 

The old county garages I remember are mostly still standing.  A lot aren’t used.  The one in Buyck was near Daniels.  The one in Alango was beside the highway not too far from the school.  The one in Angora was in Cheneyville across from the South Switch.  The one in Cook was near the ambulance and fire truck garage.  I’m not sure there was one in Bear River, they might have come from the Alango garage.  The one in Balkan is used by the township now.

 

Each garage had someone on the crew that was a mechanic and maintained the machines.  The whole crew helped take off the plows in the spring and put them back on when they expected snow in the fall.

 

When they started plowing snow with the trucks, a lot of mailboxes got smucked by the drivers until they got the hang of it.  They had to go fast with the trucks.  If they stopped, it took awhile to get going again.

 

Dad  did a lot of work for Carl Seid in the late 1940’s or early 1950’s.  Carl jacked up his house and built a basement under it.  Dad put in the sewer.  The house is on a sand hill so the plumbing went into the tank and the floor drain in the basement went under the septic tank.  The drain from the tank went down into the same line which daylights out the hill a couple hundred feet away.  That way they used the same trench.

 

When they put the house back on the foundation, Carl got the grader and a big cat to pull.  They gave the house a quarter of a turn with the machines and lowered it down on the basement.

 

Dad built in the kitchen and bathroom cabinets and made a bending brake and put in all the ductwork for the wood furnace.  It must have been in the early 1950’s because the power lines were just put up.

 

I remember Carl trying to get Jake Wlodkoski who lived  on the Guzman Road to put in a water system.  Carl had put in a shallow well pump and wanted to put it a pump for Jake, he had electricity into his house and lights, but he wouldn’t get the pumpjack.  He would stand there until 9 or 10 at night pumping water for his cows by hand.

 

I was talking to Freddy Shepansky the other day when he was waiting to get his flu shot in the clinic.  He said they used to crown the gravel roads.  Now they don’t pull in the shoulders and a 4 inch ridge holds water after it rains.  Sometimes the gravel gets pushed out sometimes into the ditches and some of the roads are wide enough to tar now.  Years ago one car would have to pull over and stop so the other car could get by.  When they pulled the shoulders in years ago, there was a ridge of sod and gravel down the middle of the road.  I suppose they have to be careful of liability now that so many people sue.

 

All the main county roads are paved now.  There still are some old-timers alive yet that worked in those old garages.

 
 
 
 
 

Sent: Sunday, January 27, 2008

 

PLUGGING ALONG

Dave Hanson

 

It seems that a lot of people are smarter than us.  It took many years to realize they were smart in the things I wasn’t familiar with.  Not realizing that the kids growing up on small farms were like sponges, soaking up ideas and skills without knowing it.  Only a small part of our knowledge is from school.  Most was never even talked about.  We did what we were told to do, and watched what everyone else was doing, and listened to the grown ups talking.

 

I was amazed at the knowledge Ted Provoznic had about sports statistics and all the pro teams.  He came down to Orr School from Buyck.  One time in 1959 we were at the Corner, by Crane Lake, where Iver Ostlund and his wife operated an establishment for dancing on the weekends.  They had a juke box and sold pop and hamburgers and coffee.  It was just packed with people from the Crane Lake resorts and cabin people.  We went there mostly because Nelson Resort had a lot of girls working up there.

 

One evening Marsh Nelson, the sports caster from Duluth, was there with his fishing friends.  I didn’t know Marsh and had never seen him in person before.  I asked Ted if he had ever met him.  I knew he would talk for hours about sports if he got a chance.  I said, “Come on.  I’ll introduce you to him.”  Not interrupting, but when he turned around, I said, “Marsh, this is Ted Provoznic.  Ted, this is Marsh Nelson.”  I turned and left.  Ted thanked me the next time I saw him.  He had the best visit of his life.

 

I started realizing I wasn’t exactly ignorant when I went to college.  I worked a couple of years before I had any money, so I was 20 when I went.  These were supposed to be the cream of the crop and the smartest people from high school.  A lot of them were different.  Book smart, but no common sense.  Some were there for the party life after school.  Some were there because their parents wanted them there.  I realized they were just regular people with all the plusses and minuses like everyone else.  We had a lounge upstairs at Virginia Junior College.  One day I came up to the building and some guys had opened a large lounge window on the second floor and had thrown out an easy chair.  Another time they had taken our English teacher, Truman Griffin’s, Volkswagen and lifted it over the sidewalk and put it bumper to bumper between two elm trees.  When I got to UMD, some guys had taken the door divider out of the main entrance and drove a car into the hall and replaced the door hardware.  They had to have timed the campus cop and did some planning to pull it off.

 

A lot of the kids that came in convertibles and were party people were gone the