Fire Central's cannon and then what do you do?

So what do you do after illegally firing off a historic cannon displayed as a yard ornament outside a downtown Duluth high school?

If you were the two Duluth Central students who lit off the Spanish-American War cannon on Oct. 3, 1938, outside old Central High at Lake Avenue and Fourth Avenue East you go get ice cream.

Herbert Olander of Apple Valley, Minn., claims John McLaughlin and Bill Jones did just that after learning through research inside the Central library how to fire the long-dormant cannon.

"After lighting the delayed fuse McLaughlin and his buddy went downtown to the Bridgeman's on Superior Street to eat ice cream and await the blast," Olander wrote to me in an e-mail after reading a cannon chronology over the past couple of weeks on the pages of the News Tribune and on this blog.

"Everyone knew that it was him because he was a gun nut," Olander continued. "I heard the story in the early 1950s at the Northwestern Gun Club. I am now 76 years old."

Olander's note verified as true the story told on this blog by McLaughlins granddaughter, now a Central Trojan herself.

However, Olander was unable to verify Ron Kyllonen's claim that the cannon wasn't actually melted down for World War II, as has regularly been reported over the years.

"Ron Kyllonen was my classmate at Denfeld and I knew him well," Olander wrote. "I cannot vouch for his story but it also is probably true."

And the tale of Centrals cannon continues. Feel free to weigh in by leaving a comment.

Posted by: cfrederick on 8/06/2008 at 5:23 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Twig name just keeps making more and more sense!!

Over the weekend, I wrote a column about Twig and how the community got its name. Drawing on interviews from long-time residents and old news clips, I explained that Twig was a branch of Duluth, or a small branch off the highway.

"As I understand it," long-timer Harvey Russell told me, "Sander Peterson, who owned the Twig Store many, many years ago, wanted to move a post office there, but they didnt have any name. They wanted to call it Branch, but there already was a North Branch in Minnesota. So Twig was suggested and thats what its been ever since. And pretty near as I know, thats the gospel truth."

Branch?

"Limb didnt sound very good, so they settled on Twig," Russell joked.

A 1942 News Tribune article told the story a little differently. Shortly after Peterson filled in a frog pond to build his store in 1908, farmers in the area petitioned for the post office. The postmaster general told them, fine, but that they needed a name of not more than four letters.

"'Twig' was one of several forwarded to Washington," the newspapers Nathan Cohen wrote. "It was the last name the farmers thought would be chosen, but post office officials apparently thought the name suited the small rural settlement."

On Monday, Sander Petersons great grandson, Scott Berg, dropped me an e-mail with a tiny piece of additional information that helps to explain with crystal clarity where Branch and Twig came from.

"When they started the post office," Berg said, recalling a story his grandfather, Carl Berg, used to tell him, "the [U.S. Postal Service] indicated that it had to be a branch of the Duluth Post Office, and the name must be limited to 4 letters. Therefore they thought of the name Twig."

The name just keeps making more and more sense!

Posted by: cfrederick on 8/04/2008 at 1:58 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Where were those cannon balls again?

An apology to Ron Kyllonen, who questioned a report in a column a couple of weeks ago that the Spanish-American War cannon displayed outside old Duluth Central High School was scrapped and melted down for World War II. Kyllonen recalled a newspaper photo, published after the war, of the cannon still in a junk yard. Next to the cannon in the picture, I reported, was a pile of cannon balls.

But thats not where the ball were, Kyllonen pointed out to me in an e-mail this morning. I misunderstood him.

"I did not imply the cannon balls were in the scrap yard," he wrote. "They were alongside the cannon in front of Central [and] used to be painted with Denfeld colors periodically. &There must be an old-timer at Duluth Spring [whod know more about what happened to the cannon]. Just think: This is only 50 years ago, and books of the New Testament were written decades to hundreds of years after the fact and are accepted without question."

Again, sorry to Ron.

Anyone with additional information about the cannon --- as Kyllonen suggests there should be --- can feel free to contact me at 723-5316 or cfrederick@duluthnews.com.

Posted by: cfrederick on 8/04/2008 at 1:57 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

And now ... The rest of the Central cannon story!!

Last week I traced the history of a Spanish-American War cannon perched on display for nearly half a century outside old Duluth Central High School, at Lake Avenue and East Second Street. Drawing on numerous historical documents, I reported that the cannon met a rather unceremonious end: It was sold for scrap in 1942 during a desperate plea for metal and other building materials for World War II.

"We sent that good ol landmark the cannon off to war," Central students mused in their 1943 "Zenith" yearbook.

But was that really what happened to the cannon? A couple of readers arent so sure.

"You missed the drama of this story," long-time Duluth resident Ron Kyllonen wrote me in an e-mail.

He recalled a photo in the Duluth Herald, published after World War II, of the cannon still in the corner of a scrap yard in whats now Canal Park. A stack of cannon balls sat next to it in the picture.

"It never made it to the war," Kyllonen claimed. "The cannon sat in Harvey and Sid Karons scrap yard [at Northwestern Iron and Metal], about where Grandmas is now. It wasnt until the 50s that it was cut up. & Most anyone who was in business down on [South First Avenue East] during that time would recall it. My brother-in-law had a welding supply business down there at the time, before the grand expansion took place."

Does anyone else recall seeing such a photo? Its certainly not on file with other news clippings.

Those old stories are rich in detail about the cannons arrival in Duluth 1899 after it was plucked from the Spanish cruiser Oquendo. The Oquendo was one of four warships that boldly but unsuccessfully attempted to run an American naval blockade of Cuba on July 3, 1898. Within hours, the Oquendo lay beached and in flames six miles west of Santiago Harbor.

For 43 years the cannon was a fixture at Central. Students posed for pictures next to it, decorated it for big games and guarded it late into the night to prevent rival schools from decorating it with their enemy colors.

Duluthian Tim Kaspari also questioned the melted-down-for-war story. But his suspicions are based on a story far different the one Kyllonens claims.

"I was born in 1948 and raised in Duluth," Kaspari wrote. "I attended Morgan Park [High School and] I vividly recall a cannon in the front of the school. And it seems to me the barrel of it was filled with artifacts and sealed up and buried in the front of either the school or courthouse. It was to be dug up after 100 years, my guess is around 2066. I will research this; however [I] believe this to be true."

Could the Spanish-American War cannon, after being removed from Central and spending time in a scrap yard in what is now Canal Park, have wound up in front of Morgan Park High School? Could there have been a second cannon? Is there some other plausible explanation for these remembrances?

Anyone able to shed some additional insight should feel free to contact me at 723-5316 or at cfrederick@duluthnews.com.

Also reported in last weeks cannon column was that on Oct. 3, 1938, the cannons barrel was stuffed with beer bottles, horseshoe calks, short pieces of iron, stones, dampened paper and gun powder and that at 9:35 p.m., a fuse was lit, leaving Central shaking from a deafening blast, 16 of its windows shattered.

"There was speculation about an attentive Central chemistry class, but no one ever was caught," I wrote.

But I was wrong.

Alyssa McLaughlin, 15, told me during the past week that her grandfather, John C. McLaughlin, and his buddy, Bill Jones, were the ones who lit the cannon and got caught. Their parents were made to pay for the broken glass.

"My grandfather was a chemistry student, but they bought all the supplies at a local hardware store and got the information for the mixture for the blast at the Duluth Central [High School] library," she wrote.

Her grandfather died in January, and the cannon story was one of many of "all of the crazy things he would do when he was younger" shared at his funeral, Alyssa said.

"I would also like to let you know I am a Trojan and at this point will be the last graduating class of Duluth Central High School," she wrote. "I think this article ("Old Central cannon provided a blast in the past," July 27) made me think of the loss of my grandfather. So thank you very much."

Thank you, Alyssa.

Posted by: cfrederick on 8/01/2008 at 4:45 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Remembering our vets

Several times yesterday I was accused of being unpatriotic as a Garrison Keillor column made its way around cyberspace. Either the News Tribune was the only one to publish Keillor's less-than-flattering view of Harley-riding veterans in Washington, D.C. or we were the first. Either way, Harley-riding veterans focused their backlash at us via angry emails. And lots of them.

It was only coincidence that I was working on the following On Duluth column about D-Day veteran Ed Hon of Duluth. His story reminded me why I take my hat off when flag bearer marches by during parades. Let me know what you think and please feel free to share your own stories of vets. I can be reached at cfrederick@duluthnews.com.

CHUCK FREDERICK: Duluth veteran recalls D-Day paratrooper mission
Duluth News Tribune - 06/05/2008

Parachuting into the inky, early morning darkness 64 years ago Friday, Ed Hon braced himself for water. Instead, his feet caught tree branches which then caught him.

He heard movement on the ground below, and one thought leaped immediately to mind: Germans. He knew paratroopers hung up in trees made easy targets for enemy fire.

And this was far from any ordinary jump. This was D-Day, the largest logistical undertaking ever attempted in combat and the assault on Europe that would turn the tide of World War II in favor of the Allies. An estimated 150,000 men and 30,000 vehicles crossed the English Channel to Normandy that day. Hon and other members of the 82nd Airborne were among the first in. They were dropped hours before landing craft started storming beaches.

Hon was there because he wanted to be and because he knew his nation needed him to be. The second of six children raised on an accountants salary in Duluths Woodland neighborhood, the 1939 Duluth Central High School graduate had been working at Mielke Electric, tearing apart and repairing electric motors. The job earned him a deferment from military service.

But I felt I should go. All my friends were going, recalled Hon, now 89 and living with his wife in a rustic, year-around cabin on Island Lake, just outside Duluth. When you're that young you dont think about what the consequences could be.

Potential consequences certainly flashed through his mind as he dangled in a tree behind enemy lines. He fumbled for his firearm, found it, and then held his breath to listen.

He finally exhaled when he heard whinnying. His landing had spooked horses. He unlatched his chute and made his way to the ground, gathering with about 10 other paratroopers. Their orders were to take and occupy a bridge in St. Mere Eglise. But Hon, who had made about 10 jumps prior to D-Day, suspected they werent anywhere near St. Mere Eglise. In that war, every paratrooper operation made at night was screwed up, he said.

Within moments, the mission no longer mattered. Enemy gunfire shattered the stillness, scattering the warriors. Hon and two others made their way through woods and across farm fields until they found a house. A Frenchman, unable to speak English, directed them to wait in a barn while he summoned a friend, a priest in training, with whom they could communicate. The friend used a map to show the Americans where they were 12 miles from their drop point.

We werent even on our maps, Hon said.

For a week, French sympathizers helped protect the soldiers. But one night, the Americans were spotted by German troops inside a safe house and were taken prisoner.

They marched us toward Paris, moving us at night, Hon said. A train in Paris waited to take them to a prisoner camp. But Hon and a buddy had other ideas.

We escaped one night while they were marching us. I and this other guy didnt want to continue on anymore so we jumped off the narrow country road we were on and into the bushes, he said. They threatened to shoot and kill anyone who tried to escape, but there were so many prisoners and not many guards, so we didnt worry about it. We had been instructed to escape, to give them trouble, and thats what we did.

The trees formed almost a tunnel. We laid there until everyone passed by, he said.

They spent the night in the woods. Over the next 40 days, French farmers and other sympathizers gave them civilian clothes and helped keep them hidden while searching for ways to return them to their units.

They protected us, Hon said of the French Underground. We even mixed in with the Germans at times in our civilian clothes.

American troops, advancing from the beaches, eventually reached Hon and the others. He was identified and reunited with his unit in London.

The 82nd Airborne, he found out, suffered so many casualties it was being absorbed by the 17th Airborne. Of the 140 paratroopers he had gone to war with, Hon was one of only 12 who would return home.

As a member of the 17th, Hon participated in the Battle of the Bulge, escaping the frostbite that cost so many other soldiers toes and fingers. He made his last of nearly 30 jumps over the Rhine River and returned to Duluth in September 1945 after 47ﾽ months of service.

Hon married his sweetheart from Morgan Park, Alta Johnson, worked as an accountant for Western Electric in Duluth and later in Columbus, Ohio, and raised five kids. After Alta died, he remarried, to Evelyn Hon.

He has never flaunted his war experiences and never talked much about them, Evelyn said. He only started because his children asked.

He saw some terrible things people getting killed and blown up or shot, said his daughter, Cindy Hon. I am a retired Army wife and we were stationed twice in Germany and did travel to Normandy, and those people in that area have never forgotten the Americans coming in there to free them from the German occupation.

My Dad is a very special man in so many ways, she said. He has an incredible story. And hes one of the many sons of Duluth who fought in a great war and survived when so many others didnt.

If for no other reason than that, all veterans, including Hon, deserve to be honored and thanked. Every time a flag passes by during a parade. And every time another anniversary like todays rolls around.

I dont care about being remembered personally or that theres recognition to any one soldier, said Hon, who suffered hearing loss during World War II when a mortar exploded, killing the man standing next to him. I guess we just trusted in God and did what we needed to do.

Posted by: cfrederick on 6/06/2008 at 11:29 AM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Historic Pics of Brighton Beach Tourist Camp Unearthed

After finding -- not far from the pebbled Lake Superior shoreline at Brighton Beach -- bits of china, an old medicine bottle from one of Duluth's first pharmacies of the late 1800s, and what appeared to be an old, stone-circled fire pit, Duluth's Laurie Mattson wondered who may have once lived there.

Then the "Duluth history hunter," as I dubbed her in my On Duluth column of May 31 (see below), went hunting for answers. At the Duluth Public Library she found mentions of a "Brighton Beach Tourist Camp" of long ago. With lines of cabins, the camp was one of two in Duluth, both built in 1926. By 1949, nearly 8,000 cars and trailers were registering at the camps every year.

The other tourist camp was located at what today is Indian Point Campground in Norton Park, which made Mattson's discovery that much more exciting to her. Her grandmother, Dagney Nelson, ran the Indian Point Tourist Camp from 1956 until 1963, when it consisted of 13 cabins, each painted a deep red, she said.

"As you get older you appreciate the past so much more," she said of discovering clues about Duluth's origins by tramping along wooded trails and other forgotten or overlooked places across the city. "Some stuff is just waiting to be found."

Mattson's appreciation for the Brighton Beach trail has been heightened even further since the column's publication. She was contacted via e-mail by video editor Mark Ryan of Minneapolis, the producer of "Snively's Road," a 55-minute documentary about Duluth's Skyline Parkway. Ryan shared with Mattson two photos of the old Brighton Beach Tourist Camp, which I've posted below.

"Keep at it," Ryan urged of Mattson's history hunting.

I hope she does. Mattson's finds are just as she described them during our interview: "Treasures."

Posted by: cfrederick on 6/03/2008 at 12:22 PM | Comments (3) | Permalink

Duluth woman scours forgotten places for clues about city's past

On Duluth column of May 31, 2008:

CHUCK FREDERICK

ON DULUTH

Tramping through the woods along a muddy trail just east of Brighton Beach, Laurie Mattson suddenly stopped.

A chunk of asphalt jutted from the damp ground just off the footpath and not far from the pebbled shores of Lake Superior. Asphalt in the woods? She crept ahead, her eyes low and searching. When she spotted another jagged chunk of blacktop she followed her curiosity away from the trail. Squared blue stones caught her eye, reminding her of markers. And then, in a small clearing, something took away her breath almost entirely: stones arranged in a circle.

I took the moss off all of them. They were too cool to be covered, she said later. Ill bet I looked pretty silly a 52-year-old woman playing in the dirt, in the woods.

Perhaps she did, but that day of exploration last fall has become just one of many for Mattson, a Duluth history hunter. Thats precisely what shes been since she was a teenager and found, hanging from a chain dangling off an old, forgotten post, a weathered board in far western Duluth with Magney-Snively Park etched into it.

Her curiosity about Duluths past, our origins and the way the city used to be has led to a hobby perhaps an obsession.

When I was a kid, it was rocks. I always wanted to break open rocks to find diamonds inside, said Mattson, the married mother of two daughters in their mid-20s and a part-time driver and guide for a Duluth tour van company. I like the hands-on approach to finding out about our past. Its my therapy. Flower gardening and this. Boring to most, Im sure, but I love it.

As often as four times a week, and especially in the spring and fall when there arent as many leaves to obstruct sightlines, Mattson investigates trails and other oft-overlooked places in Duluth. If she spots a clearing, she wonders: Could it be an old picnic area? A forgotten, overgrown park? Did someone have their house here? Cabin?

But she does more than wonder. I get a stick, she said. I get under that first layer of dead leaves. Thats where you can sure find stuff. Sometimes I ask myself, What if I had a backhoe?

Shes doing fine without one.

Mattson grew up near Spirit Mountain. Her father was a superintendent at Arrowhead Blacktop on Becks Road. She once found, while exploring along an old logging trail near the Stewart Creek bridge, a wooden sign marking Berghult Trail. The trail was named for Carl Rudolph Berghult, Duluths mayor from 1937 to 1941. (In the same way, Magney-

Snively Park was named for former Duluth mayors Clarence R. Magney, who served from 1917 to 1920, and Samuel Snively, whose service was from 1921 to 1937.)

More recently, near Bardons Peak, high above Duluths Morgan Park neighborhood, Mattson found what she believes to be the spot where Kentucky native James Bardon lived and had his outbuilding. Not sure, though, she said. Oh, so much to learn [and] so little time.

Closer to where she lives now, Mattson found what probably are the remains of two pavilions across from the main entrance to Lester Park. A 1924 map book in the Duluth Public Library mentioned the structures and even included pictures. That was enough to send Mattson out scouting.

The first time I went, I couldnt see any signs, she said. So, being overzealous and a tad crazy, I went back, but took a different path. Lo and behold, there were concrete slabs, old plumbing for a toilet, and pipes under the ground. I dug up a section with old faucet handles on it. [I] also found a teacup, part of an old bowl and another soda pop bottle.

The searches continue. There is so much out there, under the Earth and leaves, she said. Treasures!

No place has felt more like opening a treasure chest than the trailside woods just east of Brighton Beach. Mattson unearthed strips of cloth there, a bedspring, some old cans, a City Brewing bottle from the 1940s or 1950s, an inkwell, broken bits of china from about 1941, and red bricks with reinforced wire through them that perhaps were once part of a building.

She also found, buried deep into the cliff dropping toward the big lake, an old medicine bottle, its raised letters identifying it as Fletchers Castoria, a laxative for kids. Other lettering indicated the bottle was from Max Wirths Pharmacy, which dates back to 1886, when Wirths brother, a respected St. Paul architect, designed the Richardsonian Romanesque Revival brownstone at 13 W. Superior St. that served as one of Duluths first pharmacies. The Wirth Building remains on the National Register of Historic Places.

Mattson e-mailed me this spring, hoping Id put something in the paper to help her find out who once lived at Brighton Beach. Before I could, she e-mailed again that she had solved the mystery. The site wasnt anyones home, she said, but was once the Brighton Beach Tourist Camp, one of two such camps in the city, both started in 1926 with eight cabins. That was according to Mayor Snivelys papers, now on file at the downtown Duluth Public Library.

What Mattson discovered next while researching at the library gave her a chill. The other tourist camp was at what is today the Indian Point Campground in Norton Park. Mattsons grandmother, Dagney Nelson, ran that campground from 1956 until 1963 when it consisted of 13 cabins, each painted a deep red, she said.

The stones arranged in a circle near Brighton Beach once were a campfire pit, Mattson realized.

As you get older you appreciate the past so much more, she said. Some stuff is just waiting to be found.

Chuck Frederick can be reached at 723-5316 or cfrederick@

duluthnews.com.

Posted by: cfrederick on 6/03/2008 at 12:20 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Duluth Veterans "reunite" in Colorado

Not much feedback yet on my latest offering, written in honor of Memorial Day. What did you think?

DULUTH CONNECTS COLORADO VETERANS (5-24-08)

They once lived in Duluth, and they once fought for their country. How they all ended up in the same small retirement community in Colorado Springs, Colo., can be chalked up to the twisting and unexpected turns of life.

There are four of them now. Old men. Not long ago there were six. They'll each mark this weekend's Memorial Day holiday in their own way. With their own ghosts. But also with a bond they never expected: shared roots in Duluth.

"I think it's absolutely serendipitous that we're all here in the same place," said one of the men, Kenneth Field, 90, a native of Duluth's east end, and now retired from the U.S. Army.

"Anybody with any brains leaves [Duluth], you know," Field said, a chuckle reaching my telephone receiver from 845 miles away. "We enjoy seeing each other at breakfast and at other times. We do share old stories. It's curious [how] we're all here."

"Here" is Liberty Heights, a well-manicured assembly of 160 townhouses and apartments overlooking the U.S. Air Force Academy. In addition to Field, former Duluthians at Liberty Heights include Col. Ted Broman, 89, originally of West Duluth, and retired now from the U.S. Air Force; Col. Arthur J. McClean, a 1938 Duluth Central graduate, also retired from the Air Force; and Obie Miller, who lived on Norton Street, just off Woodland Avenue, in the 1950s.

A Navy pilot from Cloquet, Jerome Oswald, called Liberty Heights home up until about two months ago when he died unexpectedly, Miller said. He was in his mid-80s. Another veteran, Ed Simmons, left Liberty Heights this spring to return to Duluth, Miller added.

Miller, a widower, spent 32 years in the military and served in Italy, southern France and elsewhere during World War II. In Duluth, where he was introduced to curling, he worked for the Air Force watching radar for Russian aerial attacks over the top of the globe.

This weekend, two large boards at Liberty Heights are adorned with the military pictures of hundreds of residents. But Miller, 90, won't have his picture there. When in Duluth, he and a daughter went to Mont du Lac skiing one day, leaving another daughter at home. They returned to find their house engulfed in flames. Only later did they learn the girl was safe, that she had fled to a neighbor's. But all his old military photos were lost in the blaze with most of the rest of his family's belongings.

"I've had some tough times, but I've had some good times," Miller said.

Broman grew up near the Lake Superior Zoo. His dad ran the White Inn, a hamburger place on West First Street. After graduating from Duluth Denfeld in 1937, he went to the University of Minnesota for two years. He spent his summers as a lifeguard at city-run beaches on Park Point and in Riverside and New Duluth.

He was drafted in May 1941 and was a combat pilot in North Africa and Italy during World War II. He flew for American Airlines two years before the military called him back. Pilots were needed for the Berlin Airlift, which delivered much- needed food and supplies to the city of West Berlin, and for the Korean War.

Broman retired for the first time after 25 years in the military. He retired a second time after 15 years as an engineer for Ford Motor Co.

He married a girl from Morgan Park, Carmen Lundblad. They stayed married 30 years and raised four children before she died in 1971. Two years later, Broman remarried, to Jean Beaman. They moved to Colorado Springs after Jean suffered a stroke. She had a daughter living in the area.

Broman's thoughts will be with another former Duluth lifeguard this weekend, a time set aside to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice in war. "Frank was training in the Air Force and died in a crash," Broman remembered quietly. "We were good friends. But there are lots of friends, lots of comrades to remember and to pay tribute to. I know a lot of my high school buddies who lost their lives in that war. Many from Duluth did."

And from all over. For Field - who grew up just east of the Northland Country Club, and whose father managed a department store at Second Avenue West and Superior Street - Memorial Day always brings memories of an Army buddy named Jim Flynn.

"He was a football player at Fordham," Field said. "When he got hit, wouldn't you know it, he got hit in the legs. So the big athlete was no longer a big athlete. He had to walk with canes the rest of his life."

Field played football himself at East Junior High School and then ran track and sang in the boys' quartet at Central High, where he graduated in 1936. He graduated from the University of Minnesota four years after that and went to work in the efficiency department for Sears and Roebuck in Minneapolis.

"And then the military called me," he said. "It was such a nice invitation I had to accept."

He was an artilleryman in North Africa and North Italy. He endured 39 months of combat.

He and his wife, Betty Harris, his friend since their childhood spent in Duluth, moved to Colorado Springs in 1976 because her sister was living there. When Betty died about 15 years ago, Field planted a tree in her memory in Colorado Springs' Memorial Park.

Like the other Duluth veterans living their golden years not far from the snowcapped Rockies, Field has no doubt what he'll be doing this holiday weekend.

"I'll listen to as much of the speechmaking as I want, and then I'll slowly drift away and go on down to the tree," he said.

CHUCK

FREDERICK is the News Tribune's deputy editorial page editor. He can be reached at 723-5316 or cfrederick@duluthnews.com. For more On Duluth, go to areavoices.com/onduluth.

Posted by: cfrederick on 5/28/2008 at 12:33 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Mystery Music

The oversized manilla envelope was immediately intriguing, sticking out from my mail slot in the newsroom. I ripped it open first, before getting to the day's offering of letters to the editor. Tumbling forth came three home-produced CDs: "Vaughn Monroe and his Orchestra" (who?), the "Very Best of Slim Whitman," and "Ernie Dale Tubb (ET)."

Hmm. Obviously from someone who doesn't share my love of '80s thrash metal.

There was a letter, too: "I read with interst your article re: the Buddy Holly concert at the Armory," it started, a reference to my Feb. 23 On Duluth column, "Capturing memories made at the armory."

My new pen pal wasn't at that show, but shared memories of seeing Vaughn Monroe and his orchestra in the late 1940s. "I remember the lights coming on behind the stage curtain as the band started playing, but the curtain didn't come up for a long time. I assumed they weren't able to open it for some reason, but it finally opened," the music lover wrote. "Later I learned that they were waiting for the audience to cheer [and] then open the curtain, but the Duluth audience was too polite to make noise."

Sounds like a Duluth audience.

The writer also caught Slim Whitman crooning his hit tunes in about 1953 at the armory. He "sang to a bunch of screaming girls," the letter said. "Every time he would tilt the old solid floor microphone and sing into it, the girls would start in again."

The letter writer saved the best story for last, as told to him or her by a friend's older sister: "She attended the Ernest Tubb concert at the Armory about 1944. I remember his being the top star in country music at that time. His warm-up act was a young singer by the name of Hank Williams! Ernest (ET) had a history of helping young singers get started. Anyway, [my friend's older sister] went backstage to get [ET's] autograph, as was the custom at that time. [Standing] in Ernie's long line she noticed that there was no one in the young man's line and so feeling sorry for him she walked over for his autograph. While returning to the first line, Ernie grabbed her arm and told her she was just what he was looking for. And he proceeded to use her head to sign a few autographs. [My friend's older sister] wasn't five feet tall."

All in good fun? I hope so. I'd hate to think a star like Tubb would be a jerk to a fan.

And I see on the Tubb disc I received Tubb has a song with Johnny Cash. Him I like. My dad used to play Johnny Cash records at home when I was a kid. I think I'll give that one a spin.

So thanks to whoever sent me the tunes and the nice note. But I can't help but wonder: Why didn't you sign your name?

Posted by: cfrederick on 5/16/2008 at 10:35 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

More Good News for Fond du Lac Man Crushed by Tree

On Saturday, I had the good fortune to be able to tell the story of Nathan Sahlberg, who was crushed by a tree, thought for sure he was dead, but managed to live -- and is now recovering, against all odds.

The column is pasted below for anyone who missed it.

Late Sunday, I received a note from Nathan with more good news of his ongoing recovery from the April 18 mishap.

"I met with my neuro-surgeon this week and he indicated that patients who suffer from the same type of central spinal cord injury as I always recover 100 percent," Sahlberg wrote via email. "His diagnosis was for a full recovery by July or soon after. For all these blessings I thank Jesus, my God and creator, savior, sustainer and healer."

Healer, indeed! Congrats, again, Nathan, for walking away intact. I hope no one else attempts to fell a large branch by themselves.

For everyone else, here's the column. Feel free to comment. Have you or anyone you know ever had a near-death experience? Are there other stories I should be telling in my On Duluth column? Post publicly, or I can be reached privately at cfrederick@duluthnews.com. I promise to personally reply to all emails.

CHUCK FREDERICK

ON DULUTH

Splintered during a storm last summer, the large limb had been dangling frightfully over Nathan Sahlbergs back yard in Duluths Fond du Lac neighborhood. For months, he held his breath every time his children ages 12, 8 and 5 played anywhere near it.

This spring he did something smart: He made a decision to cut the limb down, chop it up and get rid of the hazard.

But then he did something dumb: He went about the task by himself. Chainsaw in hand, he leaned a ladder against the trees main trunk and climbed 10 feet to get above the broken branch, which was as thick as 16 inches in diameter.

It was something I was just trying to take care of quickly, he explained. I took a risk. That was a mistake.

Sahlberg should have known better. He may be a pastor now, spending the past five and a half years at the Fond du Lac Community Church. But the native of Alexandria, Minn., worked in the woods for six years before that.

It wasnt my first time with a chainsaw, he said.

But it almost was his last.

At the top of the ladder April 18, Sahlberg mulled his exit strategies should anything go wrong: jump to the ground and out of harms way or clutch to the trees main trunk. Neither seemed necessary as the chainsaw screamed and its blade started eating at tree, with wood chips and sawdust spraying toward the overcast sky.

I was watching to make sure the limb was [falling] away from the tree and it was doing exactly that, Sahlberg said. So he kept cutting and watching. He finished the cut. Gravity took the limb toward the ground.

And thats when something went horribly wrong. It happened so fast, Sahlberg can only speculate what, exactly, it was. My theory is that a branch that was hanging straight down [from the limb] hit the ground and sprang the limb back up at me, he said.

Whatever it was, the large limb Sahlberg had just cut shot back at him lightning fast. There was no time to react, he said.

Sahlberg was knocked hard and thrown from the ladder. He fell square on his back, his head slamming the ground before bouncing forward, his chin thumping to his chest. At that moment, the limb landed on the back of my head and compressed my head into my sternum, Sahlberg recalled.

He was pinned. Stuck. And he realized he wasnt breathing. His vision turned blurry, then tunneled away, and I couldnt feel anything, he said. There was no pain. All I could feel was pressure on my head.

He was dying. He knew it. Silently, he prayed: Lord, this is a very embarrassing way to die.

But Sahlberg remained conscious, and soon realized his right arm was free and working. He groped for the limb, hoping for one of those adrenaline rushes you read about, the ones that allow little old ladies to lift cars off trapped puppies. He shoved, but the limb didnt budge. So he shoved at his cranium instead, managing to work his head free. The limbs full weight came to rest on his chest.

I could breathe now a little bit, he said. As much as Sahlberg could, he filled his lungs with cool spring air. He let out a weak cry for help.

Across the back yards that connect their properties, Sahlbergs neighbor, Jack Erickson, had been cleaning up brush and doing yard work. He already was at a full sprint. He had heard the chainsaw and the crash of the limb and the smash of the ladder.

It didnt sound good, said Erickson, a retired superintendent for Johnson Wilson Construction.

All I saw when I got there were his legs sticking out. He was in pretty tough shape, Erickson recalled. It was a big branch. It wasnt huge.

Oh, no? A friend of Sahlbergs, who works in logging, later estimated the limbs weight at 700 to 800 pounds.

Without hesitating, Erickson somehow lifted the limb and heaved it aside. I just kind of rolled it off of him, Erickson said. It wasnt a big deal.

Sahlberg disagreed. He just did it like it was nothing. [He was] amazing. I was just so thankful.

The branch now on the ground and not on the pastor, Erickson shouted to his wife, Patsy, to dial 911. Within minutes, firefighters arrived from the Gary-New Duluth fire hall, followed by paramedics and an ambulance. Sahlberg was fitted with a collar to secure his neck and carefully placed on a back board for the ride to St. Marys Duluth Clinic.

During his four to five hours in the emergency room, feeling slowly and gradually returned to his left leg, and then his left arm. His left hand even started to feel tingly as he underwent X-rays, a mechanical resonance imaging scan and a computed tomography scan, or CAT scan. Doctors determined a vertebra was broken and his spinal cord had been pinched. They found nerve damage. But they didnt find ligament damage, which would have dramatically altered Sahlbergs prognosis.

Youre incredibly lucky, a neurosurgeon told him. You should be paralyzed.

Lucky and thankful.

Obviously words can only begin to express my gratitude for the people who cared for me as I was passed from the [paramedics] to the emergency room staff to the [intensive care unit], said Sahlberg, who was released from the hospital amazingly after only 48 hours.

He attends physical therapy and occupational therapy sessions now, and hell have to wear a neck brace into June. But then I should be healed and be 100 percent, he said.

I want to thank Jack, first and foremost because without his quick response and brute strength I would not have been alive to receive care, Sahlberg said. I do credit him for saving my life.

God is allowing my children to be raised by their father, he said. He didnt take me. I could have been out of here. But he allowed me to stay for my wife and children.

Chuck Frederick is the News Tribunes deputy editorial page editor. He can be reached at 723-5316 or at cfrederick@duluthnews.com.

Posted by: cfrederick on 5/12/2008 at 3:44 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Posted by: cfrederick on 5/05/2008 at 11:14 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Hats off to Klos!

Congratulations to Ray Klosowski, former commander of the 148th Fighter Wing in Duluth, former commander of the Minnesota Air National Guard, former exec director of the Duluth airport and now the newest member of the Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame. He joins Charles Lindbergh and more than 100 others in the hall of aviating greats.

I interviewed Klos for the Saturday column that I'll paste below. He said he remembered the first time he and I met. I was a cub reporter in around 1991, covering a community meeting up the North Shore. Some guy came to the meeting griping about the fighter jets blasting through the sky along North Shore, disrupting his peace and tranquility. He immediatley blamed the 148th. I included his tirade in the paper the next morning, only to be summoned to the base. Klosowski, a future brigadier general, carefully explained the flights over the Lake Superior shoreline were called "Snoopy" training flights, but they were well away from people. And on the days of the guy's complaints the air guard had no planes in the air. What else could I do? I wrote a followup.

Then I wrote about Ray Klosowski numerous other times, always finding him straight forward and generous with time and information.

He's a heck of a guy and more than deserves his hall of fame induction. Don't be fooled by his modesty.

Enjoy the Saturday column and then feel free to share with me (Chuck Frederick at cfrederick@duluthnews.com your stories of Klos)....

Duluthian named to Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame
Chuck Frederick
Duluth News Tribune - 05/03/2008

If he could, Duluths Ray Klosowski would sneak through a back door and into the banquet hall, grab his plaque as one of the newest members of the Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame, and then slip away.

No hoopla. No fuss. No column about him in the News Tribune.

No way.

Thats not the way its going to work, is it? Klosowski asked this week, his question more a statement.

Cant work that way. Not when his 30-plus-year, 6,000-hours-in-the-air cockpit career includes running the Air National Guard base in Duluth, commanding the entire Minnesota Air National Guard, and, later, helping prevent the closure his old unit, the 148th Fighter Wing. And certainly not when one of his post-military jobs pegged him as executive director of Duluth International Airport.

That sort of lifelong association with aviation lands Klosowski right where he belongs tonight: front and center at a gala Twin Cities ceremony, during which he and five others will be inducted into a hall of fame already boasting flying phenoms Charles Lindbergh, Wayne Gatlin and John Hed.

The Minnesota Aviation Hall of Fame was created in 1988 to recognize and pay tribute to the states aviation pioneers. Lindbergh, whose 1927 transatlantic flight brought him worldwide fame, was a member of the halls inaugural class. Duluths Gatlin, the former chief of staff for the Minnesota Air National Guard, was inducted in 2000, and Hed, the founding father of Duluths Air Guard base, entered in 2005. Portraits of all inductees hang at Duluth International Airport. Tonights additions will up the halls membership to 117.

Im not sure I belong with that crowd, Klosowski said over coffee this week. Thats quite a group.

My goal in life was just to fly a fighter. Later, anything that threatened to get me out of the cockpit I avoided, he continued. And you know, you go along, and those other things, they just follow.

For Klosowski, 67, they certainly did.

Klosowski, who grew up in Duluths East Hillside and Central Hillsides Little Italy neighborhoods, remembers listening intently as an uncle shared stories of World War II. The uncle was a gunner aboard a B-17 bomber. He was shot down, taken prisoner, escaped, and then taken prisoner again, he told Klosowski and his younger twin brothers.

Hed take me up to the airport, too, and I still remember hanging on the fence watching the Mustangs fly in and out, Klosowski recalled of his uncle and of the famous fighter planes that were stationed at the Duluth base.

When he reached high school age, Klosowski returned to the airport as often as he could. Security was more lax then, and the Air Guard guys had no problem letting him settle behind the controls of their aircraft.

Klosowski joined the air guard after graduating Duluth Central and while still a student at the University of Minnesota Duluth. As soon as the military allowed, he went to Texas for pilot-training school. Thirteen months later, in August 1964, he received his wings.

He returned to Duluth and those other things promotions and recognition started falling to him. The job titles included squadron operations officer, tactical reconnaissance squadron commander, deputy commander of operations, and, finally, in 1989, commander of the 148th Fighter Group, as the wing was known then.

Being commander had its benefits: I could write myself into the flying schedule pretty much any time I wanted, Klosowski said. Which was often, since there was no place he wanted to be more than in the air.

Klosowskis biggest promotion, to brigadier general, came in 1996 when he was named commander of the Minnesota Air National Guard.

I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time, he said of his many achievements.

That has to be the understatement of understatements. Jim Armstrong was a master sergeant in the air guard with Klosowski and the guy who submitted Klosowskis name to the hall of fame for consideration. Hes always been a natural leader and a great people person. Hes a born commander, Armstrong said. Wherever he goes, he makes a name for himself.

Never was that more the case than in the summer of 2005 when the federal Base Realignment and Closure commission, or BRAC, had in its sights the 148th. Officials from the chamber, City Hall and elsewhere flooded to Washington to fight for Duluth. But it was the testimony of Klosowski, many believed, that swayed the committees change of heart.

I dont think anybody else could have done that, could have talked those people out of that, said Al Grady of Hermantown, a retired director of finance for the Duluth airport and a board member for the state aviation hall of fame. With his military knowledge and his knowledge of the civilian side from his days with the airport authority, he was able to testify about what was going on in northern Minnesota and across the country. He was the only one who could have spoken so eloquently.

The hall of fame board voted unanimously to induct Klosowski and that doesnt always happen, Grady said. In his case there was no argument.

His father was a farmer in Sturgeon Lake and a logger in Hovland before coming to Duluth and working in the shipyards and later in a scrap yard. Klosowski has never been the kind to seek accolades or attention. So forgive him if hes humbled. Its not every day someone is dubbed a living legend.

This is probably the biggest honor Ive ever had, Klosowski said, finishing his coffee. I was fortunate to fly seven front-line fighters in my career. I didnt fly any combat, but we did do stuff thats probably still too sensitive to talk about. Ive had some great breaks and Ive enjoyed it especially the flying part.

Posted by: cfrederick on 5/05/2008 at 11:02 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Who's the Oldest Duluthian?

At 105, is Gladys Landre the oldest living Duluthian? I wrote about Gladys Saturday and thought for sure I'd be inundated with emails from the families of folks who are older. But I haven't heard much. So maybe Gladys is the oldest?

Which raises another question: Who's Duluth's all-time longest-living resident? Was it Civil War vet Albert Woolson? Do you know of someone else? Drop me an email at cfrederick@duluthnews.com and let me know. Perhaps there'll be a followup column. There certainly would be more blogging on the subject.

For anyone who missed it, here's my column from Saturday about Gladys. Enjoy...

105-year-old Duluth woman 'a community treasure'
Chuck Frederick
Duluth News Tribune - 04/26/2008

Her guests had arrived and the cake was delivered. The birthday party Thursday afternoon was ready to get under way inside the tidy, lace-filled apartment. Only one problem: A couple of self-invited yahoos werent in any hurry to bug out.

Sorry about that, Gladys.

But its not often I get to sit down with one of Duluths longest-living residents, someone whose grandfather fought in the Civil War, who was alive when a ferry boat was needed to deliver Park Point residents across the bridgeless Duluth ship canal, and who remembers the days before radios, televisions, cars and computers even when paved roads were uncommon.

Gladys Landre turned 105 this week, and the questions I wanted to ask her proved far too numerous. Even as friends and relatives gathered, I tried. I kept inquiring and jotting down notes, and News Tribune photographer Derek Montgomery kept snapping pictures.

I guess we felt much the way Gladys said she did when the subject, predictably, turned to the secrets to her longevity. Im lucky to be here. Im thankful, she said. Ive always had plenty of hard work to do.

That hard work started on a 160-acre farm her parents cleared and built with help from the federal governments Homestead Act. That was in 1906, three years after Gladys was born in Crookston, Minn. Her familys plot was in Kittson County, which is as far west and north as a Minnesotan can get without leaving the Gopher State.

We built a little house and raised livestock, Gladys said, recalling her mother, Augusta, and her father, Dennis Rice. He had moved to Minnesota from Maryland where his own father had fought for the Union Army.

Gladys was the oldest of six children and one of two girls. I had to be in the house most of the time. The housework had to be done, she said. My dad kept a pretty big dairy [with] 10 or 11 cows, so I had to milk cows much of the time as well.

All the children had chores, of course. Gardens needed tending, as did the crops grown for the livestock. Plus, Gladys father built roads in the summer and cut and sold wood in the winter. He needed the help at home.

Sometimes hard work wasnt enough. Shelves grew bare, especially during long northern winters and during springs, like this years, that were late in arriving.

It wasnt easy living out there, said Gladys daughter, Lois Mann of Silver Bay.

And it often didnt get easier. The year Gladys turned 14 her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, an almost certain death sentence in 1918. She traveled to Cincinnati for treatment and surgery, leaving Gladys home to take care of the other kids.

Her mother returned to find all her children in bed with a flu that killed 50 million people worldwide, a fifth of the Earths population. Her children survived, however, and so did Augusta. Her cancer, miraculously, went into remission and never returned.

She wasnt able to do much work after that, but she lived and we had our mother, recalled Gladys, who beat breast cancer herself later in life.

Despite the difficulties, Gladys and her siblings had fun. They played ball and hide-and-seek and enjoyed racing each other to the barn often barefoot, even in the wintertime. And they sang and danced to music Gladys taught herself to play on a pump organ she bought after selling her cow.

In about 1923, Kittson County was in desperate need of a schoolteacher. Gladys was sent to the Normal School in Duluth to get an emergency teaching certificate, something she could earn in three months.

Her first day in Duluth changed her life. Her brother already was here, working at the Northeast Experiment Station on Jean Duluth Road, one of six facilities in the state studying animals, plants and fruits in different soils and climates. He didnt have a car and couldnt pick up Gladys from the train station. But his boss, Herman Landre, did. Upon returning, Landre boasted he had met the girl he would marry.

His prediction came true the following school year after Gladys returned home to teach. She taught only one year before moving to Duluth with her husband and living 30 years at the experiment station. She took care of the chickens, was active in 4-H Club and with other community groups, and ran the experiment stations glee club and Depression-era programs that offered practical training and constructive activities such as canning and gardening. She and Herman raised a boy and a girl.

When the experiment station closed in 1967, Herman went to work in carpentry and the family moved to a little house on Lakewood Road. Herman died in 1997, a week shy of turning 100. Gladys moved to Pines III, an assisted living facility near the University of Minnesota Duluth, in 2002.

She is the facilitys oldest-ever resident. But youd never know it. Other than the few beauty lines that crease her face and the cane she sometimes leans on when walking, there are few clues. Shes a regular at bingo, arts and crafts and other activities including a twice-a-week exercise regimen. She still bakes sugar cookies. And other than taking her meals in the dining room at Pines III, she cares for herself.

She is an amazing lady. She humbles us, said Kathy Anderson, the housing manager at Pines III. Shes probably the first one to greet people when they move in, and shes the one who makes everyone else feel so welcome.

Shes a community treasure, Gladys daughter told me.

I agreed and wanted to ask what Duluth was like when all the stores were downtown, how it felt to cross the canal aboard the Duluth Aerial Ferry Bridge or to climb the hillside via the Incline Railway. But the last of Gladys guests had arrived, and the hostess was getting anxious. My questions would have to wait. Maybe until Gladys 110th birthday.

Chuck Frederick is the News Tribunes deputy editorial page editor. He can be reached at 723-5316 or cfrederick@ duluthnews.com.

Posted by: cfrederick on 4/28/2008 at 9:32 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Check out What George is Holding?!

Yep, it's my new book, "Leatherheads of the North: The True Story of Ernie Nevers and the Duluth Eskimos." It's also the story of Johnny "Blood" McNally, the former Eskimos star on whom Clooney said his on-screen Dodge Connelly character is based. Not sure who Renee Zellweger's Lexie Littleton was supposed to be in real life. This pic was shot last Monday when Clooney and Zellweger bopped through Duluth promoting the movie, which is due out Friday.

Posted by: cfrederick on 3/31/2008 at 10:33 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink