Downtown Evan today anchored by a former bank building.
LIKE SO MANY OTHER SMALL TOWNS on the southwestern Minnesota prairie, Evan once boasted a long list of businesses—creamery, bank, two general stores, hardware store, lumberyard, blacksmith shop, stock dealer, garage, implement dealer, three elevators, restaurant, utility company, library and two churches.
Evan, incorporated in 1904, is named after Eva Hanson, married to Nels. He platted the railroad station known as Hanson Station several years earlier.
So claims the historical marker fronting the village hall in this Brown County community of around 80 residents.
Fading signage identifies this as the former lumberyard.
Today only remnants of those original businesses remain.
I believe the brick building may be the former creamery.
On a recent drive through Evan, I noted the decline.
This vintage sign hangs outside Tubby’s II Bar & Grill. A sign in the window noted the bar is closed for the winter.
This vintage hay loader rested among other junk.
I’ve never seen anything like this graveyard of campers and trailers.
Abandoned campers and trailers and trucks. It made me sad, just sad, to see the abandonment.
The old grain elevators still stand on the edge of town along the highway.
But none of this surprises me. It’s our fault really. We are a much more mobile society, a society much different than back-in-the-day or even 20 years ago. At one time, places like Evan thrived as area farmers and locals kept their business local. Today regional shopping centers pull in customers from all those small towns.
The train still runs, not through Evan, but through neighboring Sleepy Eye.
The railroad left.
Without jobs, with our farmer fathers still farming, many from my generation of Baby Boomers left Minnesota’s small towns. We couldn’t bank on a future in our rural hometowns.
Attitudes changed. Kids from my generation left for college and bigger cities and better opportunities. There’s nothing wrong with that desire to see the world, to become something other than our parents. But in doing so we added to the demise of many a small town. I am hard-pressed to think of many classmates who stayed in my hometown of Vesta 45 minutes from Evan to the north and west. Vesta, too, is a shell of the community it was when I grew up there in the 1960s and 1970s.
Grain bins on opposite ends of town mark this as a farming community still today.
I don’t pretend to know the intricacies of Evan’s decline except an overall understanding of why once thriving towns now are mere ghosts of their pasts. Certainly Evan’s remote rural location factors into the mix. Located along Minnesota State Highway 68, Evan is easy to bypass on the shortcut route between Sleepy Eye and Morgan.
The only person or moving vehicle I saw in Evan during my short stop there.
Yet, Evan is home for some. I saw newer homes there. Not new as in recent, but newer than old. I saw a lovely church and that well-kept village hall. And grain bins. And the fading letters on the lumberyard, a visual reminder that at one time a demand for building supplies existed in a farming community that once prospered.
© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling