An exhibit at the Rice County Historical Society, Faribault, shares information on the original inhabitants of the county, the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
HERITAGE. It’s a word that identifies us, connects us to our families, to our ethnicity, to the way we were raised, the place of our roots. At least that’s my definition.
This week Faribault celebrates Heritage Days. I’ve never felt totally comfortable celebrating heritage in the city I’ve called home since 1982. My heritage, my home, my roots run deep in the southwestern Minnesota prairie some 2 ½ hours west of here.
But many are rooted in this community by birth, by families that trace back generations. If it’s one thing I’ve learned in four decades about the people of Faribault, it’s that many are related to one another via blood and marriage. But I’ve also learned much about the peoples who came before the French, the Irish, the Scandinavians, the Germans, the Cambodians, the Latinos, the Hispanics, the Sudanese, the Somalis… I’ve learned about the Dakota, the original inhabitants of this region.
Jeff Jarvis talks about the Dakota at Books on Central. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2024)
That knowledge came through my own reading and via attending events focused on the Dakota. In April, I listened to local historian and artist Jeff Jarvis talk about the Dakota to a packed audience at Books on Central in Faribault. Jarvis is presenting again, speaking at 6:30 p.m., Wednesday, June 12, on the Wahpekute Dakota at The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, 101 NW Sixth Street, across the street from Faribault’s Central Park.
Information on Bishop Henry Whipple focuses one of the murals on the back of the bandshell at Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2020)
The Cathedral and its founding leader played an important part in local, state and national history with then Bishop Henry Whipple befriending the Wahpekute Dakota. He also pled with President Abraham Lincoln to spare the lives of 303 Dakota men sentenced to death by the US government following the US-Dakota War of 1862. Eventually all but 38 were pardoned, partially due to Whipple’s efforts.
The pamphlet Jeff Jarvis created about the Wahpekute Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2024)
I expect Jarvis will touch on that in his Wednesday evening presentation. He’s an engaging speaker, knowledgeable and passionate. He’s met with Dakota people, compiled a summary of his research in a mini pamphlet titled “The Faribault Dakota, Wahpekute Band.” It features an historic timeline, a Dakota primer of place names, his original art and more.
Chief Tapoi, a leader and member of the Little Crow Band of the Mdewakanton Dakota Tribe, lived in Faribault for a while and is buried at Maple Lawn Cemetery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2023)
Jarvis is involved in the Faribault Dakota Project, a local endeavor that aims to increase awareness, visibility and knowledge of the original inhabitants of this land. To that end, presentations like his set during Heritage Days are important for locals to attend.
Just across the street from Central Park, the stunning Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Likewise, free tours of the Cathedral at 11:30 a.m. Sunday, June 16, following a 10 a.m. ecumenical church service, likely will provide more information on the Wahpekute and their connection to Bishop Whipple and the massive limestone church. Several stained glass windows inside the sanctuary were gifted to the Cathedral by the Dakota.
This stained glass window was gifted by the Dakota to the Cathedral in honor of Dakota children. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
The Dakota and this house of worship, which focuses on connecting to the broader community, are such a vital part of Faribault’s history. That’s important to understand, to recognize, to honor no matter one’s heritage. I know locals who’ve lived here their entire lives and have never stepped inside the historic Cathedral. I find that almost unbelievable. We need to understand our past—our connections to peoples and land—to grow our future.
Set against the backdrop of the historic Waterford School, the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
IF I WAS A COUNTRY WESTERN SONGWRITER, I could probably pen a single inspired by the recent Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Spring Flea Market and Consignment Auction. Scenes from this event seem prompts for country western lyrics—boots, dogs, tractors, seed corn caps, blue jeans…gravel roads and pick-up trucks.
Street signs on the showgrounds honor families who helped found the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Club. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Many of the folks I saw there likely live either on farms or have a connection to farming. Just like me, born and raised on a southwestern Minnesota crop and dairy farm.
A bus converted by a vendor for hauling flea market merchandise. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Rural draws people of all ages to this country location along Minnesota State Highway 3 south of Dundas, to look, shop, bid, buy and converse twice yearly. Neighbor meeting neighbor, swapping stories, comparing rainfall totals and crop updates. Strangers mingling. Vendors trying to make a buck or ten off merchandise they’ve crammed into vehicles and trailers and then displayed on tables and lawn.
The horse head that reminded me of a movie from 52 years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Goods are spread out like a potluck of merchandise. You never know what you’ll find. I found a horse’s head, reminding me of a horrific scene from the 1972 film, “The Godfather.” The head could make for a creative Halloween prop. Nothing particularly country about this discovery, although horses in whole are decidedly country.
Toy tractors hold timeless appeal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
A caster truck, used with a pully system to move hay into a hay loft. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
An array of goods at the flea market. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Mostly, I saw merchandise that related to rural life. Toy tractors and trucks. A caster truck, which differs from a truck you drive. Old stuff that’s obsolete, holding the memories of yesterday’s family farms.
The dog-in-the-truck-window that drew my interest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
And dogs, oh, so many dogs. Leashed, lounging on a picnic table, penned. Even in the back window of a pick-up cab, a cute dog photo that often draws interest from passing motorist. So says the guy who owns the truck. Farms and dogs go hand-in-hand.
The historic Waterford School, moved on-site and soon to be placed on a new foundation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
There are stories to be heard here, lyrics to be written. If the old Waterford Schoolhouse, recently moved onto the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines showgrounds and not yet open, could talk, oh, the stories it could tell. The songs it could sing.
Vintage polling booths inside the former Northfield Township Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
The same goes for the vintage polling booths inside the Northfield Township Hall. They aren’t for sale, simply part of the historic backdrop for vendors selling goods. If only those voting booths could talk, sing…
This quilt inside the clubhouse/office summarizes well the values of rural life. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
This place, this nonprofit, this event is about history. Preserving it. Showcasing it. Honoring it. Honoring farmers and farming. The land. The hands that work it. The people who live on it and love it. And those who appreciate the stories of country western music.
For sale: Boots and jeans, staples of country wear. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
I can almost hear the guitar, the lyrics:
Truck kickin’ dust on a gravel road, headin’ into town on a Saturday night. Boots shined up.
She’s sittin’ on a stool at the Circle Bar, sippin’ a cold one, waitin’ on him.
Truck kickin’ dust on a gravel road, headin’ into town on a Saturday night. Boots shined up.
She’s sittin’ on a stool waitin’ on him, smellin’ of wild roses growin’ in ditches.
And so on, until she breaks his heart or he breaks hers and he’s driving back home to the farm, truck kickin’ dust on a gravel road.
Watching the auction from behind the auctioneer’s truck at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines Consignment Auction on May 25 south of Dundas. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT AN AUCTION that evokes nostalgic curiosity, drawing people together to peruse second-hand merchandise, perhaps to bid, perhaps only to watch silently from the side. Even to mourn.
The auctioneer and clerk sell and record items sold. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Recently, I attended the spring auction at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines showgrounds south of Dundas as an observer. I didn’t need any of the goods sold on consignment with all commissions donated to the nonprofit. But, still, I watched and wove among the items auctioned by Valek Auction Co. of Northfield.
Lining up for bidding numbers. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
A familiar milk bucket, just like the one my dad used when milking his Holsteins. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
I felt like I was back on the farm, filling a bushel basket with silage for the cows, scrubbing the milk bucket with a brush, mixing milk replacer in a galvanized pail, watching corn flow into an aged grain wagon…
A grain bin repurposed as a shelter/resting area at the Rice County Steam & Gas Engines showgrounds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Rural auctions like this, for those of us who grew up on working farms or still live on them, are like steps back in time. Decades removed from farm life, I would feel out of place on a modern-day farm with all the technological advancements, the oversized equipment. That bushel basket, that milk bucket, that pail, that grain wagon…all are the stuff of yesteryear. Farming today is much less labor intensive, more efficient.
Items are auctioned off a hay rack. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
A vintage hay loader. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Merchandise lines the gravel road. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Still, we often hold onto the past, the memories of back-in-the-day, the “way it used to be.” Nostalgia runs strong at auctions. I saw that, felt it, overheard it as folks gathered around the auctioneer’s pick-up truck, leaned on the hay rack piled with auction goods, meandered among the merchandise lining both sides of a gravel road.
A 1950s vintage stroller, exactly like the one used for me and my five siblings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Many of the auction items were vintage, likely pulled from the back corners of a dark machine shed or abandoned barn or from weeds along the edge of a grove. The rusted metal baby stroller could have been the one I rode in, the pitchfork the one I used to bed straw, the hand-reel lawnmower my grandma’s.
A vintage grain drill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Planting dates written inside the lid of the grain drill. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
This particular auction held so much relatable history. I doubt I was alone in feeling that way. While looking at a vintage grain drill, an implement used to plant small grains, I discovered historic documentation. There, on the underside of a metal lid, a farmer recorded the dates he planted oats, barley and wheat, beginning in 1951 until 1969 with a few years missing. Planting and finishing dates are important to farmers as they put seed in the ground, anticipate harvest. I thought of this farmer who 73 years ago wrote that first entry on his grain drill, holding the hope of harvest within him.
Inspecting before bidding starts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
There’s a certain reverence and respect in rural auctions. An honoring of farmers and farm life and the responsibilities that come with tending the land. This isn’t just stuff being sold to the highest bidder, but rather something of value, of importance, that once belonged to another. I remember standing at my father-in-law’s farm auction decades ago and feeling a certain sadness in the sale of items gathered from shed, house, barn and elsewhere.
Lil Fox Wagon, one of several on-site food and beverage vendors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Farm auctions represent the final verse in a hymn, the congregation gathered, the auctioneer chanting the liturgy. Comfort and community and closure come. At the hay rack. Among the rows of numbered auction items. At the lunch wagon. All until the last item is sold.
Resting during the morning auction. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Hallelujah. And amen.
#
NOTE: Check back tomorrow to read my prize-winning poem, “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn,” published in 2014 in a Minnesota literary anthology.
HER POEMS SING with the rhythm of a writer closely connected to land, heritage and history. She is Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato, Minnesota poet laureate and author of Songs, Blood Deep, published by Duluth-based Holy Cow! Press.
Of Dakota and Cherokee heritage, Westerman honors her roots with poems that reflect a deep cultural appreciation for the natural world. The water. The sky. The seasons. The earth. The birds and animals. They are all there in her writing, in language that is down-to-earth descriptive. Readers can hear the birdsong, feel the breeze, see the morning light… That she pens nature poems mostly about the land of my heart—fields and prairie—endears me even more to her poetry.
This slim volume of collected poems is divided into seasons of the year, each chapter title written in the Dakota language. The book features multiple languages—Dakota, Cherokee, Spanish and English. That adds to its depth, showing that, no matter the language we speak, write or read, we are valued.
This silo mural in downtown Mankato celebrates the cultural diversity of the region, including the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
Westerman clearly values her Native heritage, how lessons and stories have been passed to her through generations of women, especially. Songs, blood deep. In her poem “First Song,” she shares a lesson her grandmother taught her about the importance of sharing. After reading that thought-provoking poem, I considered how much better this world would be if we all focused on the singular act of sharing.
The Dakota 38 Memorial at Reconciliation Park in downtown Mankato lists the names of the 38 Dakota men hung at this site on December 26, 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
This poet, who is also a gifted textile artist (creator of quilts), wraps us in her words. In the season of waniyetu, her poetry turns more reflective and introspective, as one would expect in winter. She writes of family, injustices and more. “Song for the Generations: December 26” is particularly moving as that date in history references the mass execution of 38 Dakota sentenced to death in 1862 and hung in Mankato. Westerman writes of rising and remembering, of singing and prayer. It’s a truly honorable poem that sings of sorrow and strength.
Her poems remind us that this land of which she writes was home first to Indigenous Peoples. Westerman writes of a state park in New Ulm, the sacred Jeffers Petroglyphs and Fort Snelling, where Dakota were imprisoned after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862 and before their exile from Minnesota. The name of our state traces to Mni Sota Makoce, Dakota for “the land where the water reflects the sky.” It’s included in Westerman’s poetry.
I appreciate poems that counter the one-sided history I was taught. I appreciate Westerman’s style of writing that is gentle, yet strong, in spirit. Truthful in a way that feels forgiving and healing.
In the all of these poems, I read refrains of gratitude for the natural world, gratitude for heritage and gratitude for this place we share. We sang. We sing. Songs, blood deep.
FYI: Songs, Blood Deep, is a nominee for the 2024 Minnesota Book Award in poetry. The winner will be announced May 7. This is Westerman’s second poetry book. Her first: Follow the Blackbirds. In addition to writing poetry and creating quilts, Westerman teaches English, Humanities and Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato.
Jeff Jarvis shows an artifact while talking about the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“WE’RE ALL CONNECTED. We’re all one.” Those closing words by local historian and artist Jeff Jarvis as he ended an hour-long presentation on “The Faribault Dakota” at Books on Central Thursday evening resonate. I’ve long been geographically-connected to Indigenous Peoples, first in my native Redwood County and now in Rice County. But Jarvis’ definition of connection stretches well beyond geography to the connection we all share simply via our humanity.
Jarvis, who is also an artist and graphic designer, handed out this mini guidebook at Thursday’s presentation. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Jarvis spoke to a standing room only crowd packed into the Rice County Area United Way used bookstore on Faribault’s Central Avenue. The third speaker in the popular literary event series hosted by the bookshop since its fall opening, his talk was more history than literary. Interest ran high.
My interest in the Dakota traces back to the southwestern Minnesota prairie, where I grew up between the Upper and Lower Sioux Indian Reservations. Today the word “community,” references these homes of the Mdewakanton Dakota. When I moved to Rice County 42 years ago, I moved onto land once inhabited by the Wahpakute Dakota. But it wasn’t until I listened to Jarvis speak that I learned even more about the place I initially called home on the southeastern tip of Cannon Lake west of Faribault.
Long before fur traders and settlers moved to this region of southern Minnesota, the Dakota called this land home, typically living along the area’s lakes and rivers, including the Cannon. I knew this; I’ve attended many presentations on the Dakota by local historians. But I wasn’t aware that the former Ackman Store, the rental home where Randy and I lived for 2 ½ years after our 1982 marriage, was near the site of a trading post opened by fur trader and town founder Alexander Faribault.
Native American artifacts found in Rice County and displayed at the Rice County Historical Society. These are not the artifacts shown by Jarvis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
Jarvis asked me after his presentation whether I saw ghosts while living there. I didn’t. And in a conversation with Lou Ackman, who grew up and lived along Cannon Lake and loaned Indian artifacts for Jarvis to show Thursday evening, I learned that people often searched the Ackmans’ farm fields for artifacts.
When Randy and I moved into Faribault, our geographic connection to Indigenous Peoples continued. We purchased a house below Wapacuta (sic) Park, where we still live today. It was upon this now park land that the Dakota placed their dead, (wrapped in buffalo robes or blankets) upon scaffolding until later burial. Jarvis also shared that the Dakota sometimes suspended wrapped bodies from trees to catch the spirits in the windy hilltop location prior to burial 1-2 years later. I’d never heard this prior to Thursday.
Peace Park, an unmarked Dakota cemetery near Buckham Memorial Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
But I was aware that Peace Park, a triangle of land near Buckham Memorial Library, is an Indian burial grounds. Jarvis termed it an unfenced and unrecognized cemetery marked by a faith-based WW II monument and nothing indicating this is sacred ground of the Dakota. Several bodies were discovered buried there in 1874, he said, not wanting to delve deeper into that troubling topic at Thursday’s event.
Jarvis covered a lot more in his one-hour presentation. Most I knew. Some I didn’t. I always appreciate learning local history, especially about the 300-400 Dakota who relocated from Cannon Lake to live in elm bark huts and teepees in the area along the Straight River from Division Street to the wastewater treatment plant.
The community of Faribault, Jarvis said, had/has a lot of color and was/is “a beckoning place” to many peoples. He referenced the Indigenous Peoples of yesteryear and the immigrants of today. “We’re all connected. We’re all one,” Jarvis said. He’s right.
One of two rainbows arches over Faribault Thursday evening. (Copyrighted photo by Randy Helbling April 2024)
As I stepped outside the bookshop after Jarvis’ talk, cloudy skies opened to reveal stunning double rainbows—a symbol of promise and of hope. A symbol that we all live under the same sky, that we’re all connected.
Joyful mannequin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
AMONG THE TRANS-SIBERIAN ORCHESTRATOUR and other t-shirts, the refurbished shoes, the hats, the colorful purses, the VHS tapes, the stereo and even the television set playing in black-and-white, they stood out. The dark-skinned mannequins, joyfully jubilant.
I happened upon the pair after popping into Closet Sale, a recently-opened thrift and secondhand shop in downtown Faribault. Inside the cozy space at 103 Central Avenue, they stood, mouths stretched wide as if to shout, “Welcome!” or perhaps, “Hey, you, stop and look!”
No matter what I imagined their words to be, I was drawn to the two. Drawn by their poses. Drawn by their expressions. And drawn by their skin color. I don’t recall ever seeing a black mannequin in a local store, even though Faribault is home to many people whose skin tone is anything but white.
Love the vivid LEGO glasses on this mannequin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
Upon seeing the extroverted pair, I felt as happy as they appeared. They had character. Spirit. Personality. Their bold over-sized glasses added fashion flair. They seemed the creative type—perhaps musicians or painters of vivid abstracts or performers.
I recognize that’s a lot to take from two store mannequins. I offer no apologies. To me, the duo are more than plastic models showcasing merchandise. They represent my culturally diverse community, including the man who runs Closet Sale. He’s Juan Pablo Zuñiga Navarro, native of Chile.
I appreciate diversity of ownership in Faribault’s historic district. Today’s downtown core is no longer just that of white ownership. Those of Hispanic and Somalian ethnicity also now run businesses along and bordering Central Avenue. We’ve come full circle. Immigrants from many countries, all speaking different languages and with their own customs, faiths and dress, settled this city. Set up shop. Crafted shoes. Built furniture. Brewed beer. Sold dry goods. And much more. All to make a better life for themselves and their families in the land of opportunity.
Just like yesterday, the immigrants of today are working hard to achieve the American dream. Many have escaped war-torn countries, violence, extreme poverty. I recognize that. So I welcomed Juan Pablo to Faribault, told him, “I’m happy to have you here!” I am. And I’m happy also to have those two spirited mannequins, who welcomed me into Juan Pablo’s shop. Joyfully. Exuberantly.
I CAN’T IMAGINE a world without books. From the time I was first read to and then learned to read as a young child, I have loved books. From books, I’ve learned, I’ve escaped, I’ve broadened my world well beyond southern Minnesota.
From reading the writing of others, I’ve grown, too, as a writer. Laura Ingalls Wilder, in her Little House books, taught me the importance of detail, of setting, in writing. I grew up on the prairie, some 20 miles from Walnut Grove, once home to the Ingalls family. A grade school teacher read the entire Little House series to me and my classmates. Books have, in many ways, shaped me.
Book cover image sourced online.
But imagine a world without books. That was a reality for slaves in America, denied access to books and to education. I just finished reading Kin: Rooted in Hope, written by Carole Boston Weatherford and illustrated by her son, Jeffery Boston Weatherford. The young adult book, published by Atheneum Books for Young Readers, was named a Coretta Scott King Author Honor Book 2024. It is a book that ought to be read by everyone not only for its insightful poetry-style storytelling, but also for its haunting scratchboard art.
Looking down on the pages of the book with a mix of black and white paper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Adding to the overall subliminal effect is the way in which the book is printed. Black words ink white paper. White words imprint black pages. And the artwork is made by etching away black ink to reveal white. This mixed usage of black and white, reinforces the storyline of slavery and slave owners. Black. White.
As I read Kin, which I pulled from a book display for kids and teens at my local library, I was increasingly horrified by what I read. Sure, I’ve read about slavery in history books. But this approach of historical fiction really brought home the ugliness, the abuse, the violence, the awfulness of slavery in a personal way. Fiction rooted in truth.
Children born into slavery. Whippings. An auctioneer’s gavel. Names written on an inventory list along with commodities. Jemmy. Big Jacob. Lyddia. Tom. Walter. Isaac. Mush ladled into a trough. Swimming banned lest an escape to freedom be attempted. And on and on. Atrocities that seem unfathomable to inflict upon individuals chained in Africa, sailed to Maryland, sold, abused, treated like property by wealthy white families.
Photo used for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But in the all of this, threads of kinship, endurance, strength and hope, even defiance, run. Perhaps my favorite line in the book is that of Prissy, a house servant waiting on a dinner guest. He leers at her, making an inappropriate comment. She wants to tell him that she spit in his soup. At this point half way into the book, I applaud her unstated rebellion. As the chapters unfold, so does the move toward freedom for slaves. The author writes of freedom at last and of current day issues (controversial statues in public places, the murder of George Floyd…), all interspersed with a whole lot of history (including historic figures like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman…).
Even though this book is written for young adults, it should be read by older adults, too, who need to hear Prissy’s defiant voice. Author Carole Boston Weatherford gives voice to those who endured slavery, and to those whose family histories trace to enslavement, including her ancestors. Her son’s detailed scratchboard art reinforces the story, the words which wrench the spirit.
I photographed this scene in 2020 in Kenyon, MN. It remains one of my favorite images of this message given its location in a small town.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2020)
Kin: Rooted in Hope proves an especially fitting read during February, Black History Month. Through this book of historical fiction, I’ve learned more about a part of U.S. history which is horrendous in every possible way. That humanity can treat humanity so atrociously seems unfathomable…until I consider underlying and outright racist attitudes which continue yet today.
Johnston Hall, date unknown. (Photo courtesy of Rice County Historical Society)
IN EARLY NOVEMBER, I watched a local documentary online about Johnston Hall in the comfort of my home office. The film, “Love Inwrought: Johnston Hall and the Memory of a Building,” was created by Sam Temple and Logan Ledman. The ambitious and talented young filmmakers have, since their high school days, focused on local history through their 1855 History Team (Steamboat Media Co.). Their latest project focuses on Johnston Hall, completed in 1888 as part of Seabury Divinity School. The building was demolished in 2021 after standing on Faribault’s east side for 133 years.
Sam Temple, left to right, Logan Ledman and Troy Temple. (Photo courtesy of 1855 History Team)
This Saturday, December 16, the duo will present a public screening of their film at the Rice County Historical Society in Faribault from 5:30-6:30 pm. And while I am not able to be there, I encourage anyone interested in Johnston Hall and the fine work of writers and directors Temple and Ledman to attend.
A Q & A follows the screening. Attendees are encouraged to share their stories about Johnston Hall, which saw many uses through the years.
Johnston Hall model. (Photo courtesy of 1855 History Team)
But that’s not all. A model of the building handcrafted by Rathbun Reliquilaries plus artifacts and architectural items saved by the historical society will also be available for viewing.
Saturday’s event offers an ideal opportunity to learn more about Johnston Hall and to meet members of the team that worked diligently to create the documentary. Besides Temple and Ledman those include Troy Temple, illustrator Piper Mohring, composer Sam Dwyer, and actors Steve Searl (portraying Bishop Henry Whipple) and Eli Hastings (as the Rev. Henry St. Clair).
Documentary promo. (Courtesy of 1855 History Team)
According to Sam Temple, the title of the documentary traces to a quote by Bishop Whipple: “There is an unwritten history of faith and love inwrought in every building erected here.” The Episcopalian bishop was referencing buildings (including Johnston Hall) at the schools he helped organize.
This signage stands at Johnston Hall Memorial Garden across the street from the local hospital and clinic. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2023)
The work of Temple, Ledman and their team is top-notch professional, outstanding and deserving of accolades. These young men are passionate about history, storytelling, filmmaking and creating an appreciation for our past. Their enthusiasm and work impress me. I can’t wait to see what they do next.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
IN THE PAST YEAR, my desire to learn more about Native American culture has heightened. My new interest followed a talk in September 2022 by then Rice County Historical Society Director Susan Garwood about “The Indigenous history of the land that is now Rice County, Minnesota.” This county, this community, in which I live was home first to Indigenous peoples, long before the first settlers, the fur traders, the Easterners who moved west.
This sculpture of Alexander Faribault and a Dakota trading partner stands in Faribault’s Heritage Park near the Straight River and site of Faribault’s trading post. Ivan Whillock created this art which sits atop the Bea Duncan Memorial Fountain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I knew that, of course. But what I didn’t know was that the Wahpekute, one of the seven “Council Fires” of the Dakota Nation, used the current-day Wapacuta Park just up the hill from my house for honoring their dead.
This Faribault city park, where my kids once zipped down a towering slide, clamored onto a massive boulder, slid on plastics sleds, was where the Wahpekute many years ago placed their dead upon scaffolding prior to burial. That ground now seems sacred to me.
That it took 40 years of living here to learn this information suggests to me that either I wasn’t paying attention to local history or that my community has not done enough to honor the First Peoples of this land.
(Book cover sourced online.)
Whatever the reason, I have, on my own, decided to become more informed about Indigenous peoples. And for me, that starts with reading. I recently headed to the children’s section of my local library and checked out the book, The Forever Sky, written by Thomas Peacock (a member of the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Anishinaabe Ojibwe) and illustrated by Annette S. Lee (mixed-race Lakota-Sioux of the Ojibwe and Lakota-Sioux communities).
These two Minnesotans, in their collaborative children’s picture book, reveal that “the sky and stars all have stories.” Oh, how I value stories. And the stories shared in this book, these sky stories, are of spirits and animals and the Path of Souls, aka The Milky Way, and…
I especially appreciate the book’s focus on the northern lights, explained as “the spirits of all of our relatives who have passed on.” The descriptive words and vivid images make me view the northern lights, which I have yet to see in my life-time, through the eyes of Indigenous peoples. The changing blues and greens are their loved ones dancing in the night sky. Dancing, dancing, dancing. How lovely that imagery in replacing loss with hope and happiness.
The Forever Sky has created an awareness of Native culture previously unknown to me. Just like that talk a year ago by a local historian aiming to educate. I have much to learn. And I am learning via books found not only in the adult section of the library, but also among the children’s picture books. That writers and illustrators are covering topics of cultural importance in kids’ books gives me hope for the future. My grandchildren, even though they will never see the vast, dark, star-filled sky I saw nightly as a child of the prairie, are growing up much more informed. They will understand cultures well beyond their own heritage. And that encourages me.
This undated photo of Johnston Hall is courtesy of the Rice County Historical Society.
AS A WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER, I understand the power of storytelling. That focuses my work. I strive to connect with readers in a meaningful and personal way via images and words.
Johnston Hall, photographed shortly before it was demolished. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2021)
And so storytelling is the approach I intended to take in writing about Johnston Hall. A building constructed in 1888 on Faribault’s east side. A building which once centered learning, then healthcare. A building placed on the National Register of Historic Places. A building that did not, physically, withstand the ravages of time and weather. A building which in 2021 was demolished, but not without efforts to save it.
The QR code on the sign links to the new documentary on Johnston Hall. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2023)
This shows the back of Johnston Hall Memorial Garden, looking toward Allina Health Faribault Medical Center. The garden is next to an employee parking lot. The bronze Seabury Divinity School plaque was saved from the hall and focuses the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2023)
I need to backtrack for a moment, though, to late August, when I photographed Johnston Hall Memorial Garden, located along State Street on the campus of the Allina Health Faribault Medical Center. The recently-completed garden honors the history of Johnston Hall and provides a contemplative space to reflect. For me, that’s remembering the time I spent, along with loved ones, in the aged building that once sat north of the hospital and clinic, northwest of the new garden.
Image credit: 1855 History Team Facebook page
In their Johnston Hall documentary, the filmmakers weave together history, memories, stories. Temple states that “…each soul passing through a building is a part of its memory, its identity and its legacy.” That is the singular line which stands out for me, the line defining Johnston Hall as more than a building that once stood tall, grand and strong, initially as part of Seabury Divinity School. Johnston Hall is part of so many personal stories, including mine.
Johnston Hall in a 1990 image, as a Medical Office Building. (Photo courtesy of the Rice County Historical Society)
While I don’t recall the exact year I first walked through the doors of this stately limestone Romanesque architectural style structure, it was after an orthopedic and fracture clinic moved into the building. That followed histories of usage as the divinity school (closed in 1933) library and classrooms, a nurses’ training school and then a vocational-technical school.
Johnston Hall photographed from the parking lot of the hospital and clinic. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2021)
Broken bones and other health issues landed me and my family inside Johnston Hall. As a grade schooler, my son broke his little finger while unicycling in our driveway. In 2006, he was back at Johnston Hall, this time with a rib fracture and a broken bone in his hand after a hit-and-run driver struck him while he crossed the street to his bus stop. The same morning of that May 2006 scare, while my husband and son were in the hospital emergency room, I wound my way to nearby Johnston Hall for an appointment with an orthopedic doctor. I had waited too long to cancel my appointment, although I desperately wanted to stay by my son’s side in the ER.
On that May morning, I learned that I would eventually need right hip replacement surgery due to osteoarthritis. I delayed that surgery until 2008. The stairway and waiting room and exam rooms of Johnston Hall soon grew all too familiar.
To my second daughter also, who was screened for scoliosis in junior high and then referred to the medical team at Johnston Hall. Eventually her spinal curvature required wearing a customized, full body, hard plastic back brace 24/7 for a year. It was the first time I cried at Johnston Hall.
Stone was saved from Johnston Hall and incorporated into the memorial garden, including stone marking the hall as a gift from Augusta Huntington. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2023)
In many ways, Johnston Hall and tears are intertwined. As the filmmakers share in their documentary, funding for the hall came from Augusta Huntington, formerly Augusta Shumway. Horatio Shumway left tens of thousands of dollars to his grieving widow. She used his gift to fund construction of Good Shepherd Chapel and then Shumway Hall in honor of Horatio. Both sit on the campus of the current-day Shattuck-St. Mary’s School, a private college prep school. In 1888, construction of Johnston Hall was completed, the cornerstone laid. The hall was a final bequeath from Augusta, who died in 1884. The building honors her father, William Johnston.
Up close, historic Johnston Hall shortly before its demolition. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2021)
“Love Inwrought: Johnston Hall and the Memory of a Building” features much more in-depth history, including the connection between Minnesota’s first Episcopal bishop, Bishop Henry Whipple (who called Faribault home), and Augusta Shumway. The filmmakers also highlight Henry St. Clair, a Dakota man who attended Seabury Divinity School, studying inside the library and classrooms of Johnston Hall. He became an ordained deacon and then a pastor. Indigenous peoples are an integral part of Faribault’s history and I appreciate that these filmmakers focus on that, too, in their latest work.
Incorporated into Johnston Hall Memorial Garden, the 1888 cornerstone. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2023)
In their well-researched documentary, Temple and Ledman use historical photos, illustrations, even a building model, actors, original music (composed by Sam Dwyer) and narration to tell the stories of Johnston Hall. Theirs is, indeed, a work of love, revealing how love inwrought takes a building beyond wood and limestone to memories abiding within the souls of those who’ve passed through its doors.
Recent Comments