Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Inside the Owatonna orphanage museum: Heartbreaking stories and photos January 18, 2012

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A telegram sent to an Owatonna orphanage in 1892 announcing the arrival of two sisters.

WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM, August 19, 1892:

Please meet Godman and two little waifs afternoon train.

It is an archaic word, that word “waif.” So I must page through my Webster’s New World Dictionary to confirm that I fully understand its meaning.

I read:

2 a person without home or friends; esp. a homeless child   3 a stray animal

The definition is mostly as I expect, except for the “stray animal” part.

It hurts my heart to read the telegram sent in 1892 to the Minnesota State Public School for Neglected and Dependent Children in Owatonna.

It hurts even more to view the photo of the “waifs,” sisters Mary and Clara, taken on the day they arrived. You can see the despair in their eyes, almost hear their wailing, feel their terror. If I could step back into time, to that day in August 1892, I would wrap those little girls in my arms and hold them and stroke their hair and give them all the love they never knew.

Sisters Mary and Clara, upon their arrival at the Minnesota State School.

Of all the documents and images displayed at the former school, now a museum, this one of the sisters sticks with me for the emotions it captures and evokes. I first saw the photo several years ago during an initial visit to the Minnesota State Public School Orphanage Museum. I have never forgotten it.

This past weekend I was back at the orphanage site to tour a new Owatonna Arts Center exhibit, “Where are the Children,” by Judy Saye-Willis. The Northfield artist taps into the location to pull together an introspective display about children with input from a variety of artists and a writer. I was especially impressed with the graphite drawings of children by Cambridge artist Marilyn M. Cuellar. (Note that Cuellar’s art pieces displayed in Owatonna are copies and not originals.)

The former state school dining area is now a beautiful public venue.

After perusing that exhibit, I walked toward the museum part of the building, through the former school dining room that today serves as a venue for wedding receptions, concerts and more. I hadn’t intended to go to the museum, but my husband had already wandered over there.

Signage under a state school photo in a section of the museum.

This visit I didn’t study each document and photo in depth. Rather, I swept through the U-shaped exhibit area, focusing on specific segments to photograph like the 1892 telegram and photos of the two sisters, including this one taken at a later date.

Mary and Clara, hardly recognizable as the same sisters who arrived in 1892.

I paused, though, to listen to a visitor talk to me privately about her father and an aunt who lived here. She spoke without a hint of bitterness, which surprised me given the negative experiences of many children who called this school home. Her father eventually was placed with a southern Minnesota farm family. In many instances, these families physically and emotionally abused the state schoolers. Her father, she said, was hit once, but never again.

Contracts were signed between the school and families, typically farm families, allowing state schoolers to live with and work for these families. The families were to provide $100 in wages and two suits of clothing.

Later, I would photograph a radiator brush, “a Matron’s favorite tool for punishment,” according to the Fall 2010 issue of the museum newsletter, The Radiator Brush.

A dreaded radiator brush rests atop a radiator in the museum.

Next, I photographed “the chair,” also used to punish children.

Chairs like this one on display in the museum were used to control and punish children and keep them in their place.

I cannot imagine living here in this institution, separated from family.

Yet the school, despite its failings, offered for many children a better alternative than remaining in abusive and neglectful home settings too tragic to even fathom.

And so that is how sisters Mary and Clara, two little waifs who had been “the victims of extreme cruelty and neglect,” ended up on a train bound for the Minnesota Public School for Neglected and Dependent Children.

One of the photos on display in the museum of a matron and her girls.

A snippet of a letter from third grader Arthur Peterson to his mother. You can almost hear the desperation in his words: "I hope you will come up to see me."

Museum exhibits, mostly in words and photos, but also artifacts, tell visitors about life at the state school.

This photo of a little state school boy caught my eye. The museum's collection includes more than 1,100 original photos and an additional 150 reproductions. You can't help but be moved by such soulful images.

Patricia Ann Pearson, 7, left, and her sister, Yvonne, 9, on the day they were separated. They would not see each other for 33 years. Theirs is only one of thousands of heart-wrenching stories of separation.

FYI: From 1886-1945, nearly 11,000 orphaned, abused and/or abandoned children were sent to the Minnesota State Public School for Neglected and Dependent Children. Today visitors can tour the former school grounds, including a cottage and the cemetery. Click here to learn more about the museum. In 2011, an estimated 7,000 visitors toured the museum and Cottage 11.

Click here and then click here to read two previous blog posts I published about C-11.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No cameras allowed on these historic premises January 4, 2012

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The main entry to the Hearthstone Historic House Museum in Appleton, Wisconsin, located at 625 W. Prospect.

NO PHOTOGRAPHY ALLOWED.

Post a sign with that message or speak those words to me and you’ll find yourself with one unhappy woman. I can’t help it. My camera is a natural extension of me, so when I can’t photograph I’m unsettled and discontented.

I never expected to encounter a photo ban at an 1882 historic home I toured in Appleton, Wisconsin on Saturday afternoon. But I hadn’t even reached the wreath-adorned double front doors of the Hearthstone Historic House Museum when my daughter pointed to the sign banning photography.

I automatically hugged my Canon EOS 20-D DSLR closer to my right side as we waited for a tour guide to unlock the front door and allow us access into this Victorian home, the first residence—in the world—electrified from a centrally located hydroelectric plant.

If you think I would simply accept the “no photos” rule without question, then you don’t know me. I asked and was told photography would be disruptive to the tour. “Even without flash?” I pursued.

Yes.

I contemplated for some time how I could sneak in a photo or two. But with tight quarters and visitors packed into the home’s rooms, taking covert photos wasn’t even a remote possibility. Besides, the click of the shutter button would surely give me away and I was not about to become the first tourist kicked out of this lovely mansion.

So you will need to settle for exterior images of this house built for Henry J. Rogers, today’s equivalent of the CEO of the Appleton Paper and Pulp Company. He lived here with his wife, Cremora, and their daughter, Kitty, for some 10 years until the nearby paper mill was destroyed by fire.

The original home of Henry J. Rogers and family sits along the Fox River.

From the exterior, this hilltop riverside home, built for $17,000, isn’t nearly as impressive as I’d expected. But inside, ah, inside, the décor is about as opulent and detailed as any historic residence I’ve ever toured.

Nine fireplaces grace rooms defined by wood—inlaid floors, detailed carvings, wood trim and ceilings and, well, wood everywhere. But I suppose when you live in Wisconsin and head up a paper company, finding wood to construct your mansion isn’t a problem.

An Edison phonograph, a stained glass window in the grand hall entry, floor-to-ceiling windows and a hand-painted ceiling in the parlor, the focal point fireplaces, and a dining room table set for Christmas dinner all impressed me.

A sign explains the house's historical significance. The house is on the National Register of Historic Places.

In retrospect, I suppose I should have been most impressed by the rare 1882 light switches and electroliers still in operation. After all, the lighting ranks as the reason this home holds such historic value. But, honestly, I’m not all that scientific minded. The décor and personal stories shared by our tour guide interested me far more than the hydro-electric powered lighting system.

Our guide informed us that the Rogers family was charged $1 a month per light bulb for the 50 light bulbs in the house. In the 1880s, $50 was a sizeable chunk of money to pay for monthly electrical usage. That reveals the substantial wealth of this family.

Rogers, however, eventually died with only $12 to his name after moving to Chicago and losing money in a silver market that crashed, a second tour guide later told me.

The story, though, that truly snatched my interest involves Kitty. When she became engaged, the Rogers’ daughter verified the authenticity of her diamond by etching her and her fiancé’s initials into a library window (still there). Not to be judgmental here, but I was not at all surprised when the tour guide revealed that the marriage did not last.

Later, while touring the second floor, we were informed that Henry and Cremora slept in separate bedrooms because the couple thought they would catch tuberculosis from one another by breathing in the same night air. OK, then. But, I suppose I must consider the time period and the lack of knowledge regarding diseases.

Finally, the tidbit I found most personally appropriate involved visitors to the Rogers’ mansion. They would leave their calling cards, the equivalent of today’s business cards, on a table in the great hall. Visitors would bend the corners of their cards in a certain way, depending on the reason for their visits. The family would then decide whether they wanted to see the guest.

At that point in the tour, I considered scribbling “Here to take photos” on my business card and dropping it onto the foyer table.

The Rogers' home, which was home to nine other families and which once housed a restaurant called The Hearthstone in the 1930s, is not yet fully-restored to the 1880-1895 time period.

Inside and outside, Hearthstone is decorated with Christmas trees and other holiday decor for a "Victorian Christmas" special event which continues through January 14.

NOTE: Lest you consider me disrespectful of rules, I am not. I understand, somewhat, the “no photography” rule at the Hearthstone house. And I most certainly understand why flash photography would not be permitted in an historic place.

One other point I want to mention: During my tour of the Hearthstone mansion, a visitor’s cell phone rang and she proceeded to answer it, right in the middle of the tour. Now that I found disruptive.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Downtown Faribault in December in black & white December 22, 2011

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The former Security Bank building anchors a corner of Central Avenue in downtown Faribault.

PHOTOS DEVOID of distracting color possess a certain surreal, dreamy quality and a vintage feel that have always appealed to me.

Some of the best images I’ve seen hearken from years ago which just goes to prove that technology doesn’t always equate better results.

While filing through photos I shot in historic downtown Faribault on Saturday afternoon and evening, I decided to play with my photo editing tools and desaturate several images. I liked the results so much that I stripped every frame of color.

The results, I think, impress even more upon the viewer the history of this early Minnesota community that stretches back to its founding by fur trader Alexander Faribault in 1852.

We’re a city rich in history with 40 properties on the National Register of Historic Places.

With that perspective, please join me on a quick photo tour of the downtown area. Certainly much more comprises our downtown than what you see in the seven images here.

I invite you to explore on your own, to immerse yourself in the history that defines Faribault.

Historic buildings along Central Avenue.

Dandelet Jewelry occupies the former 1882 Dandelet Dry Goods building, which was renovated in 1985.

A scene from the movie, "Grumpy Old Men," was shot in the former drug store to the right in this image. Today the building houses a pawn shop.

A holiday display window at Erickson Furniture, in business since 1956 and located along Fifth Street Northwest just a block off Central Avenue. Erickson Furniture won first place in the Main Street window decorating contest with its suspended green chairs, holiday ornaments and lights.

Holiday decorations in a business window along Third Street Northwest just off Central.

A sign in the window of Burkhartzmeyer Shoes, a third-generation family-owned shoe store founded in 1949.

CLICK HERE to read a previous post about Faribault’s historic downtown.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Part II: Life as an orphan in Owatonna December 20, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:22 AM
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The main building at the orphanage, built in 1886, housed offices, a reception room, chapel/auditorium, boys' cottage, living quarters for employees, a sewing room, attic and linen storage. This main portion today serves as the Owatonna city administration building.

THE TOWERING BRICK building with the enchanting turret represents no fairy tale. Not at all.

Within the confines of this place and the outlying cottages, some 12,000 – 15,000 children spent their formative childhood and teenage years institutionalized in the Minnesota State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children. They were the orphaned, the abused, the abandoned, the unwanted.

The "State School Kids" memorial stands in front of the main building and was dedicated in 1993.

Information in a brochure I picked up on a recent visit to this 1886- 1945 orphanage in Owatonna reads:

Such children became wards of the state and, in most instances, all parental rights were cancelled. Parents did not always realize they were relinquishing all rights to their children when they signed the State School commitment papers. Some parents returned to try to regain custody of their children and were refused.

Can you imagine?

Residents of Cottage 11, which housed boys ages 6 - 13, pose for a photo now on exhibit at the museum.

While some children adjusted to living within the strict regiment and rules of the school, many did not. You will hear and read their tragic memories when you visit the orphanage museum. Be forewarned: These stories are difficult to hear.

A room in cottage 11 features the photos and memories of the boys who lived there.

Cottage 11 residents

The boys remember scrubbing floors throughout the cottage, including in the bathroom..

Beds were packed tight into sparse bedrooms in the cottage.

I’ve read several books written by former “state schoolers,” as they were called. Harvey Ronglien, who was the motivator behind the museum and the orphan’s memorial, wrote A Boy from C11, Case #9164, A Memoir. Peter Razor wrote While the Locust Slept, winner of a Minnesota Book Award. I read both books, as well as Crackers & Milk by Arlene Nelson, many years ago and still can’t shake the haunting memories of neglect and abuse and struggle.

Particularly troubling are the reports of abusive, neglectful and unloving matrons. Equally disturbing are the stories of children who were indentured to farm families and then treated like slaves.

Each boy was assigned to a chair in the basement and could not leave the Cottage 11 basement without permission. This was a method used to keep order and control over the children.

Within the confines of the basement, the boys played with marbles, puzzles, checkers and other toys.

A sign on a stairway landing tells visitors about the boys' dreams of escaping via rail and of their admiration for hobos. Some boys did hop trains and ran away.

Children were educated through the eighth grade, with some selected during the early years to attend Owatonna High School. In later years, all students were allowed to attend high school.

If you’ve never visited the Minnesota State Public School Orphanage Museum, I’d encourage you to do so.

This exists as part of our state’s history. We need to know and understand life here.

Considering the thousands of children who lived in the orphanage during its 60-year span, I expect many Minnesotans are still carrying the emotional scars whether directly or indirectly passed through the generations.

IF YOU LIVED in the orphanage or have a family member who did, I’d like to hear from you. What’s your story? Good or bad.

The feet of the children in the memorial statue on the orphanage grounds.

CLICK HERE to read a previous blog post I published about Christmas in the orphanage.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In Owatonna: Stories of an orphan’s Christmas December 19, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:55 AM
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Cottage 11, built in 1923, as one of 16 cottages at the former Minnesota State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children. Designed to house 25 boys ages 6 - 13, this cottage typically was home to 30 - 35 youth.

AS WE HURRY ACROSS the hilltop campus toward Cottage 11 at the former Minnesota State Public School for Dependent and Neglected Children, the raw wind slapping our cheeks, Silvan Durben advises us to refrain from jumping on the beds.

He’s a character, that Silvan, energetic and flamboyant and passionate. And truthful. This director of art at the Owatonna Arts Center, which is housed in the main building of the former orphanage, shares a tidbit of truth. The children who once lived here weren’t allowed to sleep on their pillows. So if my husband and I slid the for-show-only pillows off the beds and onto the floor, we’d have it right.

The boys' bedrooms are stark, devoid of anything homey. This small room slept three.

With that piece of information imparted, Silvan unlocks the door into Cottage 11, today preserved as part of the Minnesota State Public School Orphanage Museum complex in Owatonna.

Within these walls, which housed boys ages 6 – 13 from 1923 – 1945 in the state school orphanage, we will learn more of the unsettling truths during a self-guided tour. Typically, the cottage is staffed, but on this Sunday afternoon it is not and Silvan has allowed us inside, on our own, to explore. He trusts us, he says, and I am grateful for this opportunity to wander.

Entering a now-enclosed porch that serves as a gift shop and then stepping into the adjoining living room, I am surprised that I feel, initially, impressed by my surroundings. Visually, I am pleased by the natural light flooding this room through the abundant windows, by the dark woodwork, by the fireplace, by the narrow wood-slat floor, by the cozy cluster of vintage furniture grouped near the Christmas tree surrounded by piles of presents.

But looks, as I immediately learn, can be deceiving.

The living room was off limits to the boys except on special occasions.

A view from the hallway looking toward the living room fireplace. Each week the boys polished the floor and furniture in this forbidden space. They also scrubbed floors throughout the cottage.

The posted words of the orphan boys reveal the truth:

…the toy trucks were taken away a few days after Christmas and hidden in the attic to be gifted again the next year.—Cottage 11 Boy

The truth revealed about Christmas from the memories of the Cottage 11 boys.

And the lovely living room? Apparently just for show, too, except on special occasions like Christmas Eve when the boys gathered here around the tree and were allowed to stay up past their usual 7:30 p.m. bedtime until 9 p.m.

Christmas brought but a moment of happiness to these children who otherwise lived under rigid rules and the domination of mostly uncaring matrons. (Arguably, some of these children may have lived equally difficult, or worse, lives had they remained in their previous circumstances/environments.)

Some happy Christmas memories from the boys.

Christmas brought the local Rotarians into the school auditorium to sing carols and pass out boxes of hard candy. Christmas brought several gifts—perhaps Tinker Toys, or marbles or puzzles—for each child.

The stairway between the first and second floors and a shot of the cottage's front door at the bottom of the frame. The boys were never allowed to use the front door. They entered and exited through the basement.

I cannot even begin to fathom living here under unforgiving discipline, sleeping in stark bedrooms crammed with kids, missing out on the love of family.

Unlike the mother image she was expected to portray, Miss Morgan (the matron) could be hard and cruel. Only rarely could she be kind and compassionate.

As I meander through the rooms peering at the black-and-white photos of mostly unsmiling boys and reading about their fears of scoldings and spankings and of scrubbing floors on their hands and knees and being confined primarily to the basement, my heart hurts. Truly.

You can see it in the boys' faces, the desperate need to be loved.

On signage titled “The Basement,” I read of  the prevailing authoritarian attitude:

Permission was always required to leave the basement.

Each boy was assigned a chair in the basement. "The chair kept order and accountability" to the matron.

Listening to a recording of a man who as a boy had his head slammed into a wall for prematurely removing a tie and cuffing a matron, I can still hear the hurt in his voice.

I can almost feel the pain experienced by cottage resident Arlend “Buzz” Wilson who slipped and scalded himself with hot water while scrubbing the basement steps. He ended up hospitalized for his burns.

In the first floor matron's quarters, a young boy was placed in the rocking chair to the left and his head slammed into the wall for disobedience. He removed his tie too soon and cuffed the matron.

But for all the awful stories shared here, occasionally glimmers of hope slip through—of boys who admired hobos and hopped the nearby train to escape and of “Wednesday Night at the Movies,” when movies were shown in the school auditorium. Those “brought great joy to us children.”

And then, the single gem I found among all the stones:

FYI: Cottage 11 is open from1 p.m. – 3 p.m. Tuesday – Sunday. However, I advise calling in advance (507-774-7369) as it was not open when we arrived on a Sunday afternoon. Hours at the main museum, 540 West Hills Circle, Owatonna, are from 8 a.m. – 5 p.m. Monday – Friday and from 1 p.m. – 5 p.m. on weekends. I have previously toured the museum, but did not do so again on this most recent visit.

PLEASE CHECK BACK for additional photos of Cottage 11.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Visiting down-home Indian Island Winery August 30, 2011

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This building complex houses one of southern Minnesota's newest wineries.

IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW, you likely would think, from a distance, that the sprawling pole shed along Waseca/Blue Earth County Road 37 several miles south of Smith Mills is just another farm building planted among acres and acres of soybean and corn fields.

But you would be wrong. This is home to Indian Island Winery, among southern Minnesota’s newest wineries.

Minnesota artist Jim Hansel created the artwork, "Native Lands," for Indian Island Winery. Considered one of America's premier wildlife, nature and landscape artists, Hansel is legally blind.

Sunday afternoon my husband and I drove west from our Faribault home to check out the winery with the intriguing name, drawn from the Native Americans who once used this land—at one time nearly surrounded by water—as their summer hunting camp.

Inside the winery, you’ll see the artifacts, found on this property, to back up the historical context of this place. And, no, this site was not a Native American burial grounds.

Indian artifacts found on-site and displayed inside the winery.

Tour the winery and/or the vineyard and the Winter family will fill you in on the grape-growing and harvesting and wine-making process. We opted in on the winery tour, out on the vineyard tour given I wanted to photograph the vineyard and didn’t want to hold up a whole trolley full of tourists.

Instead, Tom Winter, who is a partner in the business along with his parents, Ray and Lisa, his wife Angela, and his sister Angie, invited us to follow the trolley out to the grape fields and explore on our own.

Visitors experience the country as they ride past soybean fields on the way to the vineyard.

That no qualms invitation warmed me up to the Winter family right then and there. And, if I was to choose a phrase defining our visit to Indian Island, that would be “down-home, country friendly.”

From Tom’s broad smile, to his and Angela’s adorable 7-month-old son to the charming college student tending the wine-tasting bar to the bucolic setting, everything about Indian Island speaks  “Welcome, we’re happy to have you here in this place we love.”

And clearly the Winters love this land, and each other, as they reside on various building sites within view of the winery and vineyards. “Close, but not too close,” Tom laughs, adding that a cousin also lives nearby.

Indian Island's vineyard covers 13 acres. Here's a view between rows of plants.

Clusters of grapes hang heavy on vines awaiting the harvest.

Grape leaves arc above the rows.

I don't know grape types, but my husband and I found many varieties in the vineyard.

Masses of grapes and individual grapes made for some lovely photos.

The thing we noticed about the vineyard grapes is that they don't look at all like the types of larger grapes sold in grocery store produce departments.

Tom Winter warned us about the LP-fueled cannon before we headed for the vineyard. The cannon "fires" periodically to scare away the birds. Likewise, a loudspeaker system intertwined among the grapes broadcasts the voices of squawking birds, all to keep real birds away from the fruit.

During the winery tour, Tom says several times, “My sister’s the winemaker.” Even though Angie Winter makes the wine, this family works together, from Angela keeping the books to Tom pinch-hitting as a tour guide when he isn’t working in other facets of the winery to… Earlier this year, the Winters were named Waseca County’s Farm Family of the Year.

Visitors learn about the press, filter, crusher and other equipment in the wine-making room.

A box full of corks in the wine-making section of the business.

Together, after only a few years in the wine business, the Winters have accumulated a long list of awards—the most recent the coveted Minnesota Governor’s Cup (aka gold medal) in the 2011 International Cold Climate Wine Competition for their Frontenac Rosé.

The Winters’ wine beat out 250 other entries to take the top honors, Ray Winter says.

Winner of the 2011 Governor's Cup, Frontenac Rose.

Inside the machine shed style building, which looks nothing like a storage place for farm machinery, you can (for $5 and you get to keep an Indian Island wine glass) sample four pre-selected wines and three others at the wine bar. You’ll find Maiden Blush, this year’s bestseller, and wines with names like Dreamcatcher, Prairie Wind and St. Pepin.

You can sample wines (17 are on the current wine-tasting list) and/or enjoy a meal inside or outside the winery.

One of the many winery offerings: St. Croix, a semi-dry red table wine.

Grab a bottle of wine from the vast selection at Indian Island Winery.

If all goes well with this year’s crop, Indian Island plans to offer wines made from only Minnesota-grown grapes. Most grapes will come from the family’s own vineyards with some also coming from local contractors.

For now, Indian Island makes only grape wine. I have yet to sample any, although my husband and I picked up bottles of Maiden Blush and Frontenac Rosé.

The bartender suggested we return: “Come back in the evening, have a glass of wine and watch the sun set.”

That sounds like a plan to me, to this former southern Minnesota prairie farm girl who appreciates nothing more than the sun slipping below the horizon in a serene setting like that at Indian Island Winery.

I can picture myself sitting on the patio at Indian Island, sipping wine and watching the sun set.

FYI: Indian Island Winery is among places featured in the “Minnesota River Sips of History” wine, beer and history trail tour. Click here for more information on this tour that will take you to places like August Schell Brewing Company in New Ulm, Fieldstone Vineyards in Redwood Falls, the historic R.D. Hubbard House in Mankato, Gilfillan Estates between Morgan and Redwood Falls, and more. The sites are hosting special events the weekend of October 21 – 23.

Indian Island is among about 30 wineries in Minnesota and is located southeast of Mankato. The business aims to use only Minnesota grapes, most grown on-site.

FYI: Click here to learn more about artist Jim Hansel who created the signature artwork that graces Indian Island wine labels.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Connecting to God at country churches August 28, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:45 AM
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Vista Evangelical Lutheran Church, located at the intersection of Waseca County Roads 20 and 56 northeast of New Richland was built in 1908 and is on the National Register of Historic Places.

DURING THE PAST FEW YEARS, whenever I spot an old country church and have the time to stop and photograph it, I do.

I possess a sincere appreciation for the history, architecture, beauty and art found in these rural houses of worship.

There’s also something about a church in the country that exudes a deep sense of peace not found in a church built in a town and surrounded by homes or businesses, confined by concrete or pavement.

In the country, a church feels more closely connected to God by the sky, the land, the stirring of the wind through the trees, the background buzz of bugs on an end-of-summer day.

Serene. Peaceful. Calm. A certain sense of comfort comes from walking through a country churchyard, through the adjoining cemetery that links to farm fields where congregational forefathers worked the land and, on Sunday mornings, paused to thank God for the blessings bestowed upon them.

A plaque at Vista details the congregation's Swedish roots and history. Early settlers met on a hill north of the current church on August 8, 1858, and signed a constitution.

Most times on these brief visits to country churches, I find the doors locked. It wasn’t always this way. Perhaps even a decade ago, I could have walked inside. But times are different. Worry about theft requires locked doors.

So I can only imagine the sun streaming through stained glass windows, the worn pews, the ornate altar, the frayed rope of the bell pull.

Nearly every old country church features irreplaceable stained glass windows.

As I circle the church exterior, I consider the families that have come together here to celebrate baptisms and marriages and to mourn the loss of loved ones. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Cornfields snuggle up to Vista's church yard. It's the most beautiful of settings.

Here, standing with my feet planted next to the church next to a corn or soybean field overlooking the picturesque countryside, I can feel the almighty presence of God the Creator as I contemplate words from “Beautiful Savior,” my favorite hymn:

Beautiful Savior, King of creation, Son of God and Son of Man!

Truly I’d love thee, Truly I’d serve thee,

Light of my soul, my joy, my crown.

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Fair are the meadows, Fair are the woodlands, Robed in flow’rs of blooming spring;

Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,

He makes our sorr’wing spirit sing.

Vista's steeple rises above the countryside as a local landmark.

A lovely grassy area of shade trees lies to the north and west of the Vista church.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Verses one and two of “Beautiful Savior” are from The Lutheran Worship hymnal.

 

Hotdish, but not on a stick August 26, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 12:46 PM
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TYPICALLY MY POSTS focus on a single subject. But not today. I’m serving hotdish. And since the Minnesota State Fair opened Thursday, pretend it’s hotdish on a stick, which actually can be purchased, with cream of mushroom dipping sauce, from vendors Ole and Lena’s. Ja, sure, ya betcha.

This year you’ll also find, for the first time at the Great Minnesota Get Together, chocolate covered jalapeno peppers.

Now, you might think Minnesotans would hesitate to try jalapeno anything given our primarily Scandinavian and German taste buds. But I can tell you that two summers ago I found Dennis Gare pushing chocolate covered jalapenos at the Faribault Farmers’ Market and they were selling like lefse at a Norwegian dinner.

Dennis Gare's chocolate covered jalapenos, which I photographed two years ago.

At the time, Dennis told me the jalapenos were creating quite a buzz among customers and vendors. He’s one of those savvy marketing types who create atypical foods—like pickled eggs and horseradish—that will attract customers and increase sales.

I checked in with Dennis last Saturday and jokingly asked if he was the vendor peddling the chocolate covered jalapeno peppers at the State Fair. Nope. That would be Andre’s Watermelon. But he was a little worried about the fieriness of the over-sized jalapenos on a stick.

If you attend the State Fair and try a chocolate covered jalapeno pepper, submit a comment. I’d like to report back to Dennis down at the Faribault Farmers’ Market. Click here to read my July 20, 2009, post about Dennis’ jalapenos.

SINCE I’M ON THE SUBJECT of the State Fair, I need to give a shout-out to the new Princess Kay of the Milky Way, 18-year-old Mary Zahurones from Pierz, a community of about 1,300 north of St. Cloud in Morrison County and along Minnesota Highway 25, a main route to the Brainerd Lakes area.

The new princess had her head carved in a 90-pound block of butter at the fair yesterday.

Anyway, I know a little about the princess’ hometown of Pierz. My husband graduated from Pierz Healy High School in, well, let’s just say a long, long, long time ago. The new princess graduated from my spouse’s alma mater several months ago, and you’ll find her princess photo proudly showcased on the District 484 website home page.

Two other interesting tidbits about Pierz: The town was originally called Rich Prairie, but was renamed after a Catholic priest, Father Francis Xavier Pierz. He is recognized as “The Father of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Saint Cloud,” having settled in central Minnesota in 1852 as a missionary to Native Americans and having attracted many German Catholic immigrants to the area. You’ll find a statue of the good Father in a Pierz park, moved there last year from the St. Cloud Hospital.

Secondly, if you like bologna, and I don’t, but apparently central Minnesotans do, you can check out Bologna Days every Wednesday at the Red Rooster Bar & Grill in Genola (just south of Pierz) or every Thursday at Patrick’s Bar & Grill in Pierz. Really. This information is listed in the F.A.Q.’s section of the city website and, no bologna, I have seen a Bologna Days sign with my very own eyes.

Magnetic Catholic: St. Francis of Assisi

AS LONG AS WE’RE TALKING Catholic here, even though I’m Lutheran, I simply must point you to the “Magnetic Catholic” paper (well, not really paper) dolls which I first learned about from a Michigan writer on her blog, House Unseen. Click here to read that post and then click here to see the Magnetic Catholic Etsy shop.

I swear—oops, probably shouldn’t be swearing—you’ll have your socks charmed right off you by the likes of the Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, St. Francis of Assisi and the Blessed Pope John Paul II.

ONE MORE THING, totally unrelated to Catholics, dairy princesses, or anything on a stick.

But, apparently the latest trend among hip, young Minneapolitans is to carry iced coffee or similar drinks around in a (Mason/Ball/Kerr) pint canning jar.

I learned this from my eldest, who drove down to Faribault Thursday evening so her personal mechanic/Dad could check her car. After we gathered home-grown tomatoes, flowers and a few other niceties for her to take back home to south Minneapolis, she asked if I had any canning jars.

A hip canning jar.

I know my daughter well enough to realize she didn’t need them for canning. Heck, I don’t even can.

So we traipsed down to the basement and poked around until we found two pint jars, rings and lids. She was one happy Uptowner.

SO THERE, I HOPE YOU enjoyed your serving of hotdish. Mighty tasty, huh?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Art, history and community meld at Faribault car cruise-in August 22, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:15 AM
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I CAN’T DIFFERENTIATE a Ford from a Chevy. But I can distinguish a Mustang from a Cadillac.

You needn’t know cars, however, to appreciate a car cruise-in like the one I attended Friday evening in the 400 block of Central Avenue in historic downtown Faribault. The monthly cruises are new to my community and, if I’m correct, Friday’s show marked the first this summer that hasn’t been rained out.

Downtown Faribault Car Cruise Night, looking southeast on Central Avenue.

Just several of the many vintage vehicles, these parked by a Mexican store and bakery.

For me, a car cruise-in is all about art, history, community and having a good time. However, for my automotive machinist husband, the one who got me interested in these shows, it would be mostly about the cars or trucks. He’s my go-to guy whenever I question the make, model or year of any vehicle on display, which is often.

While he’s more interested in what’s under the hood or in the overall design, I appreciate the hood ornaments, wheel covers, taillights, the curve of metal—the details that, to me, represent, mini artscapes.

I switched this photo to black-and-white to show off the hood ornament, a work of art.

A 1948 Dodge sported this artsy license plate.

Call this art, or humor, Ron Lehnen posed this "Halloween Rat" under the hood of his 1970 Chevrolet pick-up truck with the "rat motor."

On Friday, in Faribault, I also appreciated the art of neon lights flashing in storefront windows, the slant of sun against brick during that magical hour around sunset, and clouds that painted the sky on a perfect summer evening of temps in the low to mid 70s.

The setting sun cast a lovely light on the historic Hotel Faribault.

Merchandise and flashing neon lights created a colorful visual at a Mexican store in the car cruise block.

Toss in period tunes and music by the likes of Johnny Cash, my favorite country western singer, played on-site by local radio station Power 96, and the mood was set for hanging out and chatting it up with folks I hadn’t seen in awhile.

Car cruise attendees visited with one another, creating a sense of community.

Aaron shows his 6-year-old daughter, Lexi, the interior of a vintage car.

Ted told me about his new grandson, Jaxson. Kathy told me about the need for rain in the Courtland area, where my maternal roots lie and where her husband had traveled that day to farm with his brother. Lowell told me about the $8.99 steak dinner he’d just enjoyed down the street at the Signature Bar and Grill.

Food was the only item missing from cruise night, although I could have stepped into the Mexican bakery or walked to a restaurant along Central Avenue if I had really wanted something to eat. Maybe, eventually, organizers will encourage places like the bakery or nearby restaurants to set up food stands outside their businesses.

The next Downtown Faribault Car Cruise Night is set for 6 p.m. – 10 p.m. Friday, September 16. However, I’d advise coming well before 10 p.m. as the event pretty much ended around 9 p.m.

The 1970 Chevrolet pick-up with the rat motor. My husband owned an orange truck like his, only a year newer or older, I can't recall which. A steer wandered onto a roadway. He hit it and that was the end of his pick-up truck, many years before I met him. So I've only heard the story...never seen the truck.

Lowell and Deb Melchert leave the cruise in their 1947 Chevrolet as the event winds down.

YOU MIGHT ALSO CHECK out Woody’s Hump Day Cruise In on Wednesday evenings in downtown West Concord. Two remain, including one this Wednesday, August 24, and also on September 7. That cruise-in runs from 5:30 p.m. – 9 p.m., or until dark.

Hastings also hosts the Historic Hastings Saturday Night Cruise-in from 5 p.m. – 9 p.m. with the remaining events set for September 3 and 17 and October 1.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An old-fashioned grocery store, moosehead and all, thrives in Ellendale August 5, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:25 AM
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In the small town of Ellendale, kids bike to Lerberg's Foods for groceries and the occasional slushie. Here two sisters and a friend slurp their slushies while sitting on bags of water softener pellets next to the pop machine.

WHEN ANDREW LERBERG bagged a moose in northern Minnesota in 1919, the animal was brought by rail to Ellendale and the moosehead proudly displayed in the family’s grocery store.

Ninety-two years later, that moosehead still hangs at Lerberg’s Foods, above a framed photo of Andrew with his trophy and above processed fruits and vegetables stacked on grocery store shelves.

Look down the grocery aisle to your left and you'll see the moosehead that is part of Lerberg's lore.

Ross Sletten, who purchased the business in 2007 from Andy Lerberg, will tell you the moosehead came with the store and that originally the rifle used to shoot the animal rested in its antlers. Not any more. Times have changed.

But not everything has changed at Lerberg’s. The original tongue-and-groove maple floor, tin ceiling, small-town-friendly atmosphere and more speak to the history of this 1914 brick building and to the long-standing grocery store owned by three generations of Lerbergs—Andrew, who started the business (in another building) in 1901, Arthur and Andy.

The original tongue-in-groove maple floor in front of the meat counter.

The produce department of Lerberg's Foods.

Ross began working at Lerberg’s in 1976 and, on a recent Sunday, three of his five kids—Brett, 18, Cassidy, 14, and Noah, 12—were all working at the store that anchors a corner of the main street in Ellendale, population around 600.

This long-time employee, now owner/manager, is clearly proud of his grocery store, which he claims is the oldest grocery store in Steele County and the second oldest in Minnesota.

That’s easy to believe when you walk upon the worn tongue-and-groove floor between the narrow aisles—of which there are three—pause to appreciate the tin ceiling, and listen to Ross. He’ll tell you about the tailor who had a shop in the store’s current-day upstairs office or about the eggs, ducks and chickens locals once traded for goods.

He’ll point out the store’s original coffee grinder resting on a shelf above the dairy section or direct your attention to the original wooden butcher block back in the meat department and still in use today (grandfathered in, he says).

Lerberg's Foods owner/manager Ross Sletten points out the original butcher block, which he still uses.

Cassidy Sletten, 14, checks out groceries on a Sunday morning.

He runs a business which, on a Sunday morning, teems with customers—folks picking up a few groceries after church, kids treating themselves to slushies from the machine at the front of the store, a 9-year-old purchasing several cartons of eggs for his mom, a guy buying three bags of water softener salt.

Located just the right distance (meaning too far) from Albert Lea, Austin, Owatonna and Mankato, the store draws customers who will shop locally rather than drive to regional hub cities, Ross says. He can offer competitive prices, he says, through his supplier, Nash Finch.

A street-side sign in Lerberg's front window thanks customers for their patronage.

Already, 12-year-old Noah Sletten is thinking about his future and maybe someday taking over the business. “I think it would be kind of fun to own something old,” Noah says, then smiles.

For someone like me, who grew up in rural southwestern Minnesota and frequented a grocery store with tongue-and-groove floors, a tin ceiling, a candy counter (where I bought my favorite Bazooka bubblegum for a penny), a toy rack and groceries lining two aisles, discovering Lerberg’s Foods brought back so many memories. I couldn’t get enough of this old-time style store.

The only thing missing, I told 14-year-old check-out clerk Cassidy Sletten before leaving her family’s store, was the old-style screen door that would bang behind me. She gave me a puzzled look.

“Ask your dad,” I said, smiled, and walked out the door.

Candy at the end of a check-out counter tempts kids. There are peanuts for the adults.

And right before you walk out the door, you'll see this strategically-placed rack of toys.

A side view of the grocery store looking toward the main street through Ellendale. A customer is carrying a bag of water softener pellets, stacked in front of the pop machine. The slushie slurping kids had to temporarily give up their hang-out spot so he could grab three bags of salt.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling