Dick Bernard: Remembering Sykeston ND in the late 1940s

Other Posts in this series, as follows:
Feb 11, 2013: “Sykes High, oh Sykes High School”
May 4 (the main article): Thoughts on Sykeston High School at its Centennial
May 9 A 1957 Social Studies Test
June 28 Snapshots in History of Sykeston
June 29 Sports in 1950s small towns in North Dakota
July 3: Remembering Don Koller and the Lone Ranger
*
Today we saw 8th grade Grandson, Ryan, off as three busloads of kids left for a week in Washington, D.C. A couple of months ago, two other grandsons, grade 7, were on a similar trip.
I thought, as I watched the kids board the bus this morning, about my own graduation from 8th grade (1954, Ross ND). I would have had absolutely zero framework of reference of even the possibility of ever going to Washington D.C. then, though I do recall seeing President Eisenhower on motorcade in Minot ND about that time. He was probably there concerning the soon-to-be Minot Air Force Base.
But today seems to be a good time to recall Sykeston, as the tiny central ND town prepares to celebrate its High School Building Centennial in early July. Here is what I have written thus far about that school.
We lived in Sykeston twice. In this piece, I choose the years 1946-51 as a personal focus, grades 1-5 for me.
Below is Sykeston from the perspective of the United States Geological Service in 1951; and a photo of our family in June, 1948, shortly after youngest sibling John was born. I’m the kid on the right, 8 years old. A couple of days before John was born, was my First Communion at St. Elizabeth’s down the street.
Here is Google Maps satellite perspective of Sykeston in the present era.
(click on photos to enlarge)

Sykeston from a USGS topographic map, 1951.  (www.usgs.gov for this and other maps.)

Sykeston from a USGS topographic map, 1951. (www.usgs.gov for this and other maps.)


Parents Henry and Esther; kids (from left) Frank,Florence, John, Mary Ann and Richard, early June, 1948, Sykeston ND

Parents Henry and Esther; kids (from left) Frank,Florence, John, Mary Ann and Richard, early June, 1948, Sykeston ND


Sykeston in the 1940s hardly varied from about 225 residents. Its highest population never exceeded about 275 (1920), and since 1950 the population has decreased.
Beginning in perhaps the summer of 1947, we lived in what the family always called “the North House”. On the map, it is the northernmost dot in Sykeston. Its recent past was as a granary somewhere out in the countryside. Even from a 7 year olds perspective, it was a major rehab effort.
The "North House" comes to Sykeston from the country in 1947

The “North House” comes to Sykeston from the country in 1947


A tired Henry Bernard,visible at left, takes a break while rehabbing the North House in 1947.  Photo is of the east exposure of the house.

A tired Henry Bernard,visible at left, takes a break while rehabbing the North House in 1947. Photo is of the east exposure of the house.


I made a few nickels hauling buckets of grain from the North House to O. J. Lundby’s elevator. I’m guessing it was more a reward for effort, than of value to the elevator, but nonetheless those Buffalo/Indianhead nickels burned a hole in my youthful pocket.
Of course, there was an outhouse, initially. When city water made it from the water tower to our place, a tiny bathroom was built in, and I vividly remember the time a dead minnow made a trip from Lake Hiawatha to our bathtub. At that time, I believe, the town drinking water came from a town pump by Merck Grocery, “downtown”, a few blocks away.
For some reason, I have vivid memories of two airplane events when we lived at the North House.
Townsman Jesse Evans owned a plane, and had something of a makeshift runway in the field north of our house. One time he overshot the runway and ran into Lake Hiawatha. Best I know he survived, and the plane as well. It sticks in my mind.
Much more vivid, because I actually saw it approach and pass over the town, was the day when a huge aircraft with six propeller engines came over Sykeston, at a very low elevation, from the north.
There was no notice of this event. The plane came and it disappeared.
Piecing together this mystery, I’ve concluded that I (and perhaps others) likely witnessed a B-36 bomber on some kind of training mission from South Dakota’s Ellsworth Air Force base, sometime after 1947. Here’s an article and some video about the B-36 and here’s an article about Ellsworth AFB and the B36.
For kids, the world is the bounds of their neighborhood, and for we kids in Sykeston, the streets of the town were our neighborhood – our range. Occasionally there were forays out to the Dam north of town; as well as to the town dump, repository of treasures a bit to the east of the town. But mostly our adventures (and misadventures) were on those city streets, and at Lake Hiawatha, a unique part of Sykeston, an amenity shared by few ND communities.
Eight kids and dog on Lake Hiawatha in winter.

Eight kids and dog on Lake Hiawatha in winter.


So, what do I remember? This is an abbreviated list. Every reader in Sykeston, particularly my contemporaries back then, can identify many more memories. Everyone, anywhere, would have their own similar memories about their own cohort, their own town.
The local “gang” – I don’t recall there was any competing gang – were basically the same age, and ran the same routes. Some names that come to mind: Tubby Sondag, Jerry Kutz, Bobbie(?) Kunz, Don Koller, Johnny and Jim (“bull” and “little bull”) Merck; Johnny Hammes; the Woiwode boys; Dougie Wild; Wagners; John and Jim Eaton. Arlo Neumiller and Bob Miller may have been around the bunch, too, but this bunch was basically the Catholics, from St. Elizabeths School, and religious denomination made a difference in those days.
My apologies to any kids I inadvertently missed in this list.
About the time we moved to the North House (1947), the next door neighbors were the depot agent, the Neustel’s, and their kids Pepper and McGee. They moved away from Sykeston not long after we moved into our house one vacant lot away.
The locus of the action for the Sykeston “gang” seemed to run between Kutz’s pasture on the east end (the dump, further east, on really adventuresome days) to Lake Hiawatha on the west. Of course, the “lake” was Pipestem Creek, which to my knowledge was initially dammed by the town founder Richard Sykes, part of whose property was north of what we kids knew as the swimming hole (I almost drowned at that swimming hole, and as a result have never learned how to swim – that is a whole other story. That hasn’t stopped me from occasional dumb things around water, like twice canoeing in the Quetico Wilderness, but the incident at the swimming beach across the walking bridge from town was terrifying and life-changing for a perhaps 9 year old.)
Compared with today, Sykeston’s Main Street and the side streets surrounding were pretty busy in the 1940s. Here are some memories, hopefully reasonably accurate:
Merck’s Grocery was a town institution and the place where I made my first small purchases of goods in the 1940s: I seem to remember Popsicles and Sunkist orange pop, for instance. The town pump, was near the store, between the store and Merck’s house, and I hauled drinking water more than once from that pump to the North House. I don’t recall city drinking water in Sykeston at that time. I might be wrong on that.
The “fire department” I recall was still the old firehouse hand cart with coiled hose pulled by men by hand, or at least I recall seeing a practice run by some men from the firehall by the water tower. Maybe there was a town fire truck. I don’t recall it.
Mr. Spitzer, I think, took a large wheeled push cart down to the depot to pick up the mail bags when the west bound train came through in the morning.
People gathered at the post office, kibbitzing, waiting for the mail to be distributed. It was the daily predictable weekday event in Sykeston.
There was the Wagner Hardware, the Blacksmith Shop, Daniels Barber Shop (the first barber shop hair cut I remember), a still working cream station – maybe two of them, a Red Owl, the Locker Plant, the saloon of course, with roller skating upstairs every now and then, a gas station with lots of inner tubes – one of which accompanied me on my near date with death at Lake Hiawatha, the baseball diamond, the Lutheran church which seemed to be off limits to we Catholics.
I contributed to the Sykeston economy and Wagners by buying – then losing – marbles to the more expert kids. Once I recall being invited to the attic of the Sondag house at the south end of our block. Up there were buckets and buckets of marbles, sorted by types. It was like I’d seen marble heaven.
Mr. Kramer sold insurance downtown I believe, and a dentist, Doc Dummer, and Wild’s Restaurant, and the two gas stations on the highway, one at each entrance point to Sykeston.
And Lundby’s elevator – O. J. was the rich man in town (or so I thought).
Deserving many stories all by itself, perhaps the main social center of the town, was the St. Elizabeths Hall – to me it was the Town Hall: basketball, school plays, the movies, Bingo, dances. A single sentence doesn’t suffice. Together, those who gathered in its space could write a very interesting book….
I probably could go on with more and more memories, maybe embellished by imperfect memory after over 60 years away from them.
But some memories do stick, as we all know, good and bad, and I hope you enjoyed reading this.
(click to enlarge)
Several early plat maps of Sykeston area seen in old post office July 2008

Several early plat maps of Sykeston area seen in old post office July 2008


IMG_1755
IMG_1757
IMG_1756
The Sykeston North House, June, 2000, the east exposure.  Some years later it burned to the ground.

The Sykeston North House, June, 2000, the east exposure. Some years later it burned to the ground.

#731 – Dick Bernard: Remembering a Wedding 50 Years Ago Today, June 8, 1963

A short while back came an invitation to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of Jules and Sharon (Alinder) Dragland: click on Dragland.
They went to the same college as I, at the same general time, and while we didn’t know each other personally, then, we’ve become acquainted through a college alumni mailing list.
I asked if I could send their announcement on to the list, and they said fine.
I also remarked about the coincidence: my first wife, Barbara, and I were married June 8, 1963, as well. And asked the question: and where did you marry? It turned out they married the same day as Barbara and I, at a Church one-third of a mile from ours, in the same town, Valley City ND. A pretty amazing coincidence.
Those who know me know that Barbara and my marriage was not at all routine. It wasn’t marital problems – not that at all. Five months after we were married, she had to quit teaching due to a previously unknown and ultimately fatal kidney condition. She had our first and only child, Tom, February 26, 1964, and passed away waiting for a kidney transplant July 24, 1965.
A friend marveled, today, that I remember the details so well, so many years later. Such journeys one never forgets.
Life has gone on, and I don’t think she has accompanied me too much as a ghost since then, in the sense of impacting on later relationships. Had she lived, I think we would have done well, knowing our mutual interests, then, but anyone who’s been married knows that you are never guaranteed an easy path. There is this and that wrinkle: every couple knows this. Widows have the luxury of defined memories that, at some point, are terminated by their partners death. In my case, this was only two years for both of us living from one day to the next, not knowing what the next 24 hours would bring, healthwise.
Here are two photos: of Barbara on our wedding day at St. Catherine’s in Valley City ND; and of me, a few weeks earlier on Army maneuvers at Yakima Firing Range, Washington. There is a little story to follow:
(click to enlarge)

Barbara Sunde Bernard, June 8, 1963

Barbara Sunde Bernard, June 8, 1963


Dick, Yakima Firing Range, Washington, May, 1963

Dick, Yakima Firing Range, Washington, May, 1963


Barbara was doubtless better at planning this wedding than I. She was very poor, but she had family and she had friends in town.
Me? I had been in the Army since January of 1962 at Ft. Carson, Colorado; she and I had become engaged, and the wedding date was set.
Then our entire Division set out to play war on the Yakima Firing Range in dismal southeast Washington State. (The Division was preparing for later duty in Vietnam. We didn’t know that at the time.)
We went the 1200 miles one-way, there and back, by truck, and, it seemed, I’d be home in time to get the required blood test.
I know from letters I wrote her (which she kept), that she was nervous about all of this separation, so close to wedding day. This was not deemed to be an emergency matter by either the Army or myself.
I recall distinctly, on some liberty time, going in to Yakima to be fitted for the wedding wear, so at least that could be ready.
Maneuvers over, the Division motor-marched back to Ft. Carson, I took my leave and got home in time for the wedding, which went well.
We “honey-mooned” by taking the Greyhound bus back to Colorado Springs, and living in a tiny apartment, half of a two car garage, for the next month. We gave meaning to the phrase: “poor as church mice.” Then she returned home to start a teaching career, which lasted two months till she had to resign due to illness.
And that began Fifty Years Ago today.
Dick and Barbara with family members, Grandma and Grandpa Busch, my Mom and Dad, sister Mary Ann, David and Ruth Kent, Barbara's Mom and brother, my sister Florence, and brother Frank.  Missing from photo were my brother John, and Barbara's brother Mike.  My Dad's parents had both passed away by then.

Dick and Barbara with family members, Grandma and Grandpa Busch, my Mom and Dad, sister Mary Ann, David and Ruth Kent, Barbara’s Mom and brother, my sister Florence, and brother Frank. Missing from photo were my brother John, and Barbara’s brother Mike. My Dad’s parents had both passed away by then.


Barbara's bridesmaids, June 8, 1963.  (I hope I'm correct) Connie Cink, Florence Bernard, and Shirley Undem.

Barbara’s bridesmaids, June 8, 1963. (I hope I’m correct) Connie Cink, Florence Bernard, and Shirley Undem.


UPDATE:
from Sharon and Jule, June 8, 2013: This was most interesting to us. You have great memories. I found this sad to read, yet happy to see how happy Barb was on your special wedding day. She chose lavender and we had blue with lavender flowers. . We have been so very lucky and have had a great 50 years. We had an awesome day, are so happy, feel extremely blessed and looking forward to our party tomorrow. Thanks for sharing your story and sending your best wishes. There will be several people here that you know. It was great to get a long note from Richard Greene yesterday. We have heard from so many people. Because of you, we have heard from people we hardly remember, but who seem to remember us. It has been a fun ride.
See also Responses to this post.
Barbara is buried in the St. Catherine’s Cemetery, Valley City ND, perhaps 100 feet northeast of the statue on the south edge which overlooks the cemetery.
At St. Catherine's Cemetery Valley City ND August 16, 1978

At St. Catherine’s Cemetery Valley City ND August 16, 1978

#728 – Dick Bernard: A great day around kids.

Today I visited two school events, one in Minneapolis, one in South St. Paul. One planned, one last minute. The events caused me to go into my memento box and pull out a little memory book from back in the 1950s.
School Daze001
The book seems to be from my Junior year in high school (Antelope Consolidated, rural Mooreton ND). About all it includes are the basketball scores from that year. We won more than we lost. Once we scored 91 points; once an opponent scored 91 against us.
I loved basketball in our tiny schools. It was about the only sport available. Sometimes there was summer baseball; only once were there enough of us to have a six-man football team. There were no other sports, and never, in high school, a band – no teacher with even rudimentary skills.
The good old days.
Todays planned event was over at Washburn High School in south Minneapolis. I had been there some months ago during a troubled time, and wrote about a community meeting then.
Today was much more uplifting. The students of Cristina Benz’s first hour ceramics class and [some other] students have been diligently working on making a peace pole to rededicate Washburn as an International Peace Site.
They had constructed a unique Peace Pole out of ceramic squares, all reflecting the word “peace” in different ways and different languages. There was an hour of discussion and refreshments, and I went away refreshed in more ways than simply a bagel! The actual dedication of the pole will be a bit later. School ends for the year tomorrow.
Of course, Washburn ended up in the news for something negative…the way news often is. I asked how the next few non-newsworthy months have gone. By all accounts: just fine. The school moved on. The news media went to the next negative stories….
Here are a few photos from the class:
(click to enlarge)

Two students explain the still incomplete Peace Pole at Washburn High School

Two students explain the still incomplete Peace Pole at Washburn High School


1939 Washburn High School graduate Lynn Elling talks to this years students at the class.

1939 Washburn High School graduate Lynn Elling talks to this years students at the class.


Some lucky bird may take up residence in this ceramic birdhouse which will grace the top of the completed peace pole.

Some lucky bird may take up residence in this ceramic birdhouse which will grace the top of the completed peace pole.


Teacher Cristina Benz chats with guest Lynn Elling after his presentation.

Teacher Cristina Benz chats with guest Lynn Elling after his presentation.


Then to South St. Paul’s Lincoln Center School for the 5th grade run including granddaughter, Kelly.
It was a beautiful day, and the run was plenty long and hard. Quite a number of teachers participated.
This was a fun run: you go at your own pace. I got to thinking back to those old days when, perhaps, there’d be what I think was called a Play Day. I thought of one particular one in Stanley ND when I was in 8th grade. The tiny schools came together for a time of competitions of the time: sack races, softball toss, that sort of thing.
A feature of today’s So. St. Paul run that you wouldn’t have seen in those days was the inclusion of everybody, regardless of native ability. It was a day of personal bests for all.
That’s one of many neat parts of todays society. It hasn’t always been so.
Happy Summer, kids!
Here’s some photos from Lincoln Center run today:
The 5th grade run begins.

The 5th grade run begins.


Kids from other classes extend support.

Kids from other classes extend support.


Heading towards a personal best.

Heading towards a personal best.


Doing a lap on the track.

Doing a lap on the track.


Almost finished!

Almost finished!


Schools done.  1950s depiction.

Schools done. 1950s depiction.

#724 – Dick Bernard: Memorial Day

U.S. flag at Hennepin County Government Center, May 7, 2013

U.S. flag at Hennepin County Government Center, May 7, 2013


“I decided to ask about the flag. The first person, a receptionist answering the phone, had no idea why the flag was there; the person to which I was first referred had no idea either. The third person I talked to said the flag had been there for years, and had been put up in the wake of 9-11-01: “they had to do something“, she said.”
Memorial Day is an important day for me. I almost always participate in some way. For the last ten years or so, you can find me at the grassy area adjacent to the Vietnam Memorial on the State Capitol grounds in St. Paul (9:30 this morning). Normally there will be about 50-100 there; the original organizer and many of the participants are Vietnam War vets (I’m a Vietnam era Army vet – I didn’t realize that at the time, 1962-63, but I was). The sponsoring organization is Veterans for Peace, a group I’ve long belonged to for many years.
This morning will be a somber, gentle time. There’s “open mike”, and almost certainly someone will pop up to defend war, and we’ll listen respectfully.
It’s that kind of bunch.
Almost certainly, a few feet away from our site, right after we adjourn, the more military remembrance of Memorial Day will take place, uniforms, martial music and the like. This is also a tradition.
The observances are the same, but very separate, marking unity and disunity….
Over 100 miles north of here at Big Sandy Lake, today, my 92-year old friend, Lynn Elling. and his family will dedicate a place for the ashes of his beloved spouse of 68 years, Donna. Donna died last June, and it was a family decision to bury her ashes on this weekend, near their lake cabin.
Lynn, a Naval officer in the Pacific in both WWII and the Korean War, became and remains a lion for Peace, becoming a regular protestor during the Vietnam War and a very large presence for alternatives to War, especially related to Law Day May 1, and Peace Sites. Perhaps a culminating event for him was two weeks in Vietnam last month, with the Vietnamese orphan he and Donna adopted from My Tho Orphanage in 1973. Tod, now 43, went on this grueling excursion with his Dad, April 15-30. It was something Lynn seemed compelled to do, this year. Some of his words about the trip are written at the end of this post.
My memories of war past are quite vivid also. Quite often I remember one or another.
Most recently May 4, 2013, the first Memorial Day I remember came to mind. It was on the grounds of Sykeston ND High School, and it was Memorial Day, 1946. I remember it as a six year old. Others there would remember it differently, including my Dad, whose brother was killed on the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941; or my Uncle George, my Mom’s brother, who had just months earlier returned from three years as a Naval officer in the Pacific, and taught in the high school.
There were the wooden crosses on the ground, and the traditional rifle salute. It was a never-to-be forgotten memory.
And another memory, 36 years later, November, 1982, when by chance I happened to be at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington on the weekend it was dedicated: Bernard card 1982001
That, too, is never to be forgotten.
So it goes. I could add more memories. So could you.
But the conversation needs to go on about what it is we are considering or remembering or celebrating or whatever we are doing this Memorial Day.
This is a prime time to enter, and not leave, an essential conversation of what we are about as a nation: are we a place permanently gripped by fear of possible “terror”; or are we a nation working together towards a time of peace.
If you’ve got some time, here’s a long post I read just this morning which may help bring the debate into focus. It is long, but sometimes long items are useful.
Terror, and it’s first cousins Fear and Loathing, are useful emotional hooks on which to hang the argument for perpetual war.
I think there’s a better way. Indeed, there has to be a better way, otherwise we cease to exist.
Make this Memorial Day a Memorable Day.
ADDENDA:
Some of Lynn Elling’s memories of the trip of he and his son, Tod, to Vietnam, April 15-30, 2013:
The trip that Tod and I took to Vietnam April 15-30 was an incredibly wonderful experience for both of us. The local hardware store owner, Jim Logan, lo and behold, made all of the arrangements including round trip tickets, hotel reservations, etc etc, once we knew what our basic plans were.
We took off from the Minneapolis airport on the 15th and landed in Chicago. There we had a 2 1/2 hour layover and when it was time to head for the gate the captain of our plane identified me and escorted us right ahead of everyone so we were the first to board the plane. The reason for this was that I had written to the CEO of United Airlines and told him our story, which was referred to one of his lieutenants. We were treated royally by UA during more of the flights with them.
We had a 5 hour layover in Hong Kong and got into Vietnam in the middle of the night on the 16th. The hotel was modest but very nice. Very few people, even at the hotel, could speak English but we got along okay.
We ate most of our breakfasts and some of the dinners across the street at the hotel over there–great food and more people who could speak English.
After visiting several key areas in Ho Chi Minh City, which were very impressive, we checked out after 5 days and headed south to My Tho with a cab driver that could speak English. The trip lasted about 2 1/2 hours. Again the hotel was nice and the food was good. After two days of exploring we found the Catholic Church, school and former orphanage that Tod stayed in for his first three years. The Mother Superior and two other nuns provided great hospitality and we had the opportunity to visit several classrooms. The kids went wild over Tod, sang songs and we very friendly though they only spoke Vietnamese.
In most of the areas that we visited they have very few stop signs and the traffic involved motor scooters and bikes going quite fast and carrying a number of people–even small children and babies. In order to cross the street I would hold Tod’s arm and we would start walking very slowly. We never had any problems or witnessed and accidents because they were all very careful not to come too close to us. It was a fantastic experience.
One day we went by boat out to an island in the bay and there went ashore, had refreshments and walked about 2 blocks through the jungle in the rain. We finally came to another boat landing with long, narrow canoes that had seats only about 7 inches from the hull. Can you imagine me trying to get down the stairs and finally sitting down in this boat without falling in the river? I was ready to call it off but Tod said, “Dad, you’re okay. I will help you along.” So I started down the slippery slope, wondering if that might be the end of our trip, but I made it. We took off with 3 other passengers and a female paddler in the front and a male paddler in the back. We went through the jungle and expected to see crocodiles and other wildlife. This is where the Americans fought the Vietnamese during the war and the Vietnamese had a substantial edge. Again, this was a great experience.

UPDATE 11:30 a.m. May 27
Veterans for Peace at Minnesota Vietnam Memorial

(click to enlarge)
Barry Riesch at 2013 Veterans for Peace gathering at MN Vietnam Memorial.

Barry Riesch at 2013 Veterans for Peace gathering at MN Vietnam Memorial.


Memorial organizer Barry Riesch set out to lower our expectations this morning. This and that hadn’t worked out: no musicians, guy who was going to set up the sound system hadn’t showed, etc.
I’ve been to a lot of these gatherings. Each year they’ve been better, and this year was the most outstanding one yet. Sometimes that’s how failures go….
Perhaps, tonight on Twin Cities KARE-11 news, you’ll see a snippet from the event. A cameraman spent a lot of time with us today.
Becky Lourey, whose son Matthew died in Iraq eight years ago yesterday, spoke incredibly movingly about her son and survival. During her talk she mentioned going through his duffle bags, sent home to his widow, and finding his poncho, which she took out of a ruck-sack and wore during much of her talk. She shared with all of us a recent e-mail regarding her son, sent to another of her sons. It speaks for itself: Lourey Mem Day 2013001 The website is here.
Becky Lourey May 27, 2013

Becky Lourey May 27, 2013


The event closed, as it always has, with a solitary bagpiper walking into the distance playing “Amazing Grace”.
I thought, how appropriate a time to start changing the conversation. But how difficult that will be.
In our culture, to change conversation has come to mean to win, which means someone else has to lose.
You don’t change a conversation by planting feet righteously in cement, but actually listening.
Are we up to the task?
Close of todays Memorial

Close of todays Memorial


Postnote: There was no dissenting voice today, had there been he/she would have been welcome to speak. The usual event which followed Vets for Peace didn’t happen this year. Likely it was at some other place.

#723 – Dick Bernard: 42

Yesterday we went to the film “42“, based on the true story of Jackie Robinson’s breaking the color-line in major league baseball in 1947. Eighth grade grandson, Ryan, who enjoys baseball went along, and approved.
We’d highly recommend the film to anyone. Twin Cities showtimes are readily accessible here. If not from this area, simply enter 42 in your search engine, and similar information will come up for your area.
Imperfect as race relationships remain to this day, it is difficult to imagine the hostile environment that faced Jackie Robinson when he decided to accept Branch Rickey’s offer to break through the color barrier for “America’s game” in 1946.
I was six years old at the time, and WWII had just ended, and there were black units who served with the distinction in the military. But they were segregated, and in other areas the racial division was clear and dangerous to cross.
In 1947, I lived in the middle of North Dakota, and there was no television, and as best as I can recall, no newsreels calling attention to Robinson in the very rare movies we saw. In the 40s, the closest I would come to experiencing blackness was Little Black Sambo, a popular kids book, which really related more to India than Africa, but nonetheless stereotyped black people.
So, Jackie Robinson’s story on film, as it reflected 1947, was important for me to see in person.
Robinson deserves iconic status, including the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962.
While I watched, I became most interested in the numerous subparts of his story: how, for just one instance, Pee Wee Reese, a well known baseball name to me as a kid, came to play a significant part in the drama of 1947; or how the non-business side of Dodgers owner Branch Rickey had a strong impact on Rickey’s crucial decision to bring up a “Negro” player to the Major Leagues.
But more than the movie story itself, I found myself thinking of vignettes from my own life that put into context the whole business of integration in this country.
Seventy-four years had passed since the Emancipation Proclamation when Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson integrated major league baseball in April, 1947.
Ten years later, in central North Dakota Sep 16, 1957, I saw Louis Armstrong and his band play a concert in person. I didn’t know till many years later that the previous night, Armstrong and ensemble were the first blacks ever to stay in Grand Forks ND’s hotel. When I saw Armstrong, the national news was concentrating on the integration of Little Rock Central High School. In fact, in Grand Forks, on television, Louis Armstrong spoke out his outrage about what was happening to those little children in Arkansas.
A few years late, in 1963, in the Army in South Carolina, I saw for the first time “colored” entrances and drinking fountains, and all sorts of machinations to make sure that the races stayed separate and unequal, even in the face of mandated movement towards equality. The story goes on and on….
My 8th grade grandson, watching yesterday, is likely only vaguely aware of the long struggle towards some semblance of equality of opportunity in this country. His generation is less likely to be taught to hate than mine.
It will probably require the death of most of my generation to create some semblance of color-blindness in our country.
In the meantime, later pace-setters who take big risks like Jackie Robinson took, depend on each one of us to be their Pee Wee Reese’s, to do some of the heavy lifting to bring meaning to the phrase “created equal”. (The original Constitution and Declaration of Independence, of course, reserve that right to White Men of Privilege and there has been over 200 years of struggle to get us to where we are today.)
I don’t think we’ll go backwards, but it will take continuing effort on our parts to help continue the move forwards to “liberty and justice for all” (from our Pledge of Allegiance).
UPDATE from Bruce, May 26: 42 is the only # in Major League Baseball that has been retired by all teams. For my money, Jackie Robinson is right next to MLK, Jr.
from Bob, May 26: I was 10 years old in 1947 and my Dad was the town team manager where I grew up in Iowa, just off the old Lincoln Highway. We had about two black families in Carroll who worked for the railroad – so I had the advantage of looking up to one of their sons who excelled in high school sports, and academically. So when I became aware of the resistance to Jackie Robinson, I was upset. In 1948 the Cleveland Indians brought up Larry Doby in center field, the first black in the American League. I could recite the entire lineup of the 1948 Indians, my favorite team because they had Bobby Feller, the heater from Van Meter, Iowa. A few years latter I traveled with a friend to visit his relatives from Cleveland, and was appalled to hear his brother-in-law spill out all kinds of racist venom with regard to the Blacks now on Indians, and also those Mexicans on the team. They had Doby in center, big Luke Easter on first and Bobby Avila at 2nd. I remain so grateful to my parents who were not racist and Dad applauded the arrival of Black players in the majors. I never heard them use the N word. There were always some traveling Black teams from the south that would come through and play local town teams. Dad was a pitcher and remembered throwing against a team who called themselves the Tennessee Rats.
I found the movie to be very moving.
From Will, May 27: I know you have an open mind on most issues so I invite you to and your readers to check a long but compelling book, “The Angela Davis Reader.”
Frome Jermitt, May 27: Dick: I believe personal experiences greatly impact most attitudes toward race, gender, religion and other values. I also saw the movie “42” with my grandson who is 13. It provided me with a wonderful opportunity to share many of my personal experiences relating to race relations with him and explain how these experiences help to mold my attitudes. Some of my experiences I shared with my grandson following the movie that had a great impact on my life included:
1. My first personal exposure to the discriminatory practices relating to race occurred in 1954 while in the Army and stationed at Camp Pickett, Virginia. Growing up in a rural community in South Dakota, I had no contact with any other race other than my own German heritage. Visiting several Virginia communities, I not only observed separate bathrooms, water fountains, barber shops, for white and black people, but intolerable behaviors of white people toward black people.
2. Teacher in an all-black intercity school in Milwaukee in the 1960’s was an exceptional learning experience for me. The learning environment for students was demoralizing at best. In my own teacher conditions, I had to teach six of seven class periods per day. My class size ranged from a low of 35 to a high of 38 students per day. The teaching materials (text and library books, science equipment and materials, etc.) , as meager as they were, were also in very bad condition. But this was all overshadowed with wonderful relationships with my students that were grounded in respect, high expectations, tolerance and humor. It created my appreciation of human dignity demonstrated by my students against odds that are not tolerated by most white cultures in the United States.
3. While teaching at this school, I had the privilege of developing a friendship with Henry Aaron. This provided me with a deeper appreciation for the challenges faced by black baseball players in the culture of baseball in the 1960’s. When Mr. Aaron was breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record, he and many family members were threatened with personal harm, creating also a psychological challenge that he had to overcome.
Even though these stories were shared with my grandson prior to this evening, he had a much better understanding of the challenges of relationships; race, religion, social status and other following our common experience of watching the movie, 42. I have often used movie scenes in working with groups to further their organizational development, because a well-crafted movie has the capacity to engage the viewer on an emotional level, and connect more readily to a concept. The power of a well-told story to advance social change is incalculable.
From Will, May 31: I may be one of the few of you who saw Robinson play, v. Cubs in Wrigley Field.

#720 – Dick Bernard: "ah one and ah two…"

THE TORNADO IN OKLAHOMA: While preparing this blogpost, word came of the tragic tornado most affecting Moore, OK. It caused me to recall another tornado which for some reason I’ve always remembered, the Fargo Tornado June 20, 1957003. See photo at the end of this post. In times like these thoughts always go to a heightened sense of community, and the importance of the public infrastructure and planning for the long term possibilities. Sometimes we do this well; often we do this poorly.
*
Lawrence Welk remembered
August 10, 1994, I was at the ancestral farm near LaMoure ND, trying to do a small part to help my Uncle Vince and Aunt Edithe during harvest time.
This particular day, a Wednesday, for some unremembered reason, the suggestion was made that we make the 110 mile drive west on Highway 13 to see the small farm near Strasburg where Lawrence Welk grew up.
I took a photo of Vince and Edithe, my Mom’s brother and sister, that day:
(click to enlarge)

Vince and Edithe at the Lawrence Welk boyhood home near Strasburg ND August 10, 1994.

Vince and Edithe at the Lawrence Welk boyhood home near Strasburg ND August 10, 1994.


For anyone over a certain age, the Lawrence Welk story doesn’t need repeating; and his long popular show lives on, larger than life, on TV week after week. He is a part of Americana.
He was the first recipient of the North Dakota Roughrider Award in 1961.
Lawrence was of the group called German-Russians who make up much of the population of South Central North Dakota. He and his brothers lived in the upstairs and unheated attic of the tiny farmhouse, and Welk practiced his music skills in the barn, entertaining the cows and the chickens when not doing the hard work required of farmers.
Lawrence Welk came unexpectedly back into my life last Thursday, on a visit to my still-surviving Uncle and Aunt, now living in Assisted Living and Nursing Home respectively in LaMoure; now 88 and 92.
We were about finished with “dinner” (the noon meal will always be “dinner” out on the prairie!) and in walked a lady and her husband who had come to do a show for the residents that very afternoon.
It was then I met Loretta (Welk) Jung and her husband Oliver.
Loretta (Welk) Jung at St. Rose Care Center in LaMoure ND May 16, 2013

Loretta (Welk) Jung at St. Rose Care Center in LaMoure ND May 16, 2013


Loretta, a retired First Grade teacher in Jamestown, is related to Lawrence: their Dads were first cousins, living in nearby communities. Loretta knew her much older cousin Lawrence as a person and at some point in time decided to carry on the Welk tradition by doing a road show at Nursing Homes and the like on her cousin, Lawrence Welk.
I can attest, she gave a fascinating program that enthralled the attentive audience at St. Rose Care Center last Thursday. If you look carefully, you can see Uncle Vince and Aunt Edith seated in the second row.
IMG_1342
The following day I went out to the farm with Vince to help with the mundane things that needed doing.
Mowing the grass beside the house, I found a verdant reminder of Edith’s love of flowers…she hasn’t been out to the farm for a long while, so these tulips had just decided to take things into their own hands and just get about the business of blooming.
May 17, 2013, beside the house

May 17, 2013, beside the house


We picked a bunch of the flowers and delivered them to Edith in her room at the Care Center.
The next day we picked some more, and brought them in as a more-or-less floral arrangement for the dining room.
May 18, 2013

May 18, 2013


And so the seasons go on.
In earth terms, it is spring, and the rhubard (“pie plant” to Edith) begins to grow as it always does in the patch in the garden; and the apple trees by the house begin leafing out for another season – maybe there’ll be lots of apples by fall, maybe few. We shall see.
"Pie Plant" (Rhubarb) May 17, 2013

“Pie Plant” (Rhubarb) May 17, 2013


April Tree leafing out at the farm May 17, 2013.

April Tree leafing out at the farm May 17, 2013.


For the rest of us, we’re in our own “season” in our lives.
May this season be a good one for you.
Cherish each day. Here’s a ten minute video on gratitude and living each day that helps put this into focus.
Dr. Elwyn Robinson on Lawrence Welk in History of North Dakota, c 1966, page 555: “While he was an individual, not a type, Lawrence Welk, the orchestra leader, gave all Americans an image of the North Dakota character. Of Alsatian stock, he grew up on a far near Strasburg, North Dakota, learned the accordion from his father, and in the 1920s began to play at churches, country dances, and then on the radio station at Yankton. After the Second World War, he and his orchestra, playing his famous “Champagne Music,” attained success with long engagements at hotels, many recordings, and a weekly television show. The honest, friendly, and unsophisticated Welk and his wholesome show gave millions of viewers some understanding of North Dakotans. During his rise he had met ridicule and contempt, and so courage and energy played a part in his success. His loyalty to North Dakota was obvious to those who watched his program.”
Thursday, June 20, 1957, Fargo ND
Fargo Tornado Jun 1957002

#717 – Dick Bernard: A 1957 Social Studies Test; and a look back to the future in North Dakota

UPDATE MAY 23, 2013: In the third paragraph, below, is a 100 question test I took in 1957. Scroll down to the UPDATE continuation following the original post, and you will find the Answer Key which I prepared, to the best of my limited ability. If interested, first take the test, then compare your answers with mine in the key. Challenges are solicited.
This is part of a series of posts about Sykeston North Dakota.
Feb 11, 2013: “Sykes High, oh Sykes High School”
May 4 (the main article): Thoughts on Sykeston High School at its Centennial
June 12 Remembering Sykeston in late 1940s
June 28 Snapshots in History of Sykeston
June 29 Sports in 1950s small towns in North Dakota
July 3: Remembering Don Koller and the Lone Ranger
*
A few days ago I did a long post about Sykeston High School, a tiny place near the center of North Dakota from which I graduated in 1958.
Curt Ghylin, now a Minnesotan but back in the early 1960s a student at the same college as I, Valley City State Teachers College, visited the blog, and noticed a state-wide test given to high school Juniors and Seniors that I had taken in November, 1957, on North Dakota History, Government and Citizenship.
For those interested, the 100 question test is here: ND Hist Govt Ctzn 1957001.
Curt asked a perfectly reasonable question: “I want to show our kids the test on North Dakota history that your referenced. Do you know if the key is available somewhere? I don’t know all the answers.”
Well, I was a kid taking the test in 1957, and I did well on it, but it was statewide, probably scored by the University of North Dakota (UND), 150 miles or so from where I was marking my sheet….
No, I don’t have an answer key, Curt.
And relooking at the test, yesterday, I wouldn’t give even odds that I’d get 50% right today, without lots of cheating!
But Curt’s was a perfectly reasonable question, and I knew I had placed second (or such) in the state that year, and there must be something…. In my bookshelf was a book I had been given at the state “Know Your State” contest at UND in December, 1957. It was an autographed copy of “North Dakota A Human and Economic Geography” by Melvin E. Kazeck of the Department of Geography of the University of North Dakota, published 1956 by the North Dakota Institute for Regional Studies at North Dakota Agricultural College (now NDSU) in Fargo.
Mostly, all of the answers will be somewhere in that 264 page book. Best I know I’m the only person in the world who has a copy (I google’d it), so if it’s going to get done, I’m going to have to be the one to do it.
And I will, Curt. Yes I will. Take the test yourself, and check back to this space by early June, 2013 for the “key” (which should be pretty close to accurate).
In his e-mail, Curt articulated a problem with such old documents: “I had to point out to my sister-in-law as she read the test that the date of the test was 1957 when she questioned why Interstate 94 wasn’t a possible answer for question 2—‘The highway running across ND from Fargo to Beach’ “
Here, from Kazeck’s book, is a map with the answer to THAT question, from page 181! (The first stretch of ND Interstate wasn’t constructed until 1958, between Valley City and Jamestown, and that was among the first stretches of Interstate Highway in the U.S.)
(click to enlarge)

North Dakota Highways 1956 from Melvin E. Kazeck's North Dakota, A Human and Economic Geography

North Dakota Highways 1956 from Melvin E. Kazeck’s North Dakota, A Human and Economic Geography


But what about the title of this post, “A look back to the future in North Dakota”?
As I was leafing through Kazeck’s volume, I came across the last chapter “The Future of the State” of North Dakota.
That chapter was written 57 years ago, by someone very well versed in his topic and published by a respected institution.
This morning I pdf’ed that 35 or so page chapter, and for anyone with an interest, here’s how a North Dakota geographer saw the future of North Dakota in the year 1956: ND Geog 1956 Kazeck001
I find the chapter quite interesting.
I hope you do, as well.
UPDATE May 23, 2013:
Here is the Answer Key for the 1957 test: ANSWER KEY for ND Test 1957.
All I can say is that I’ve tried to give answers that seem consistent with what the test authors would have said were correct in 1957. With some luck, most of my choices are accurate. I was a geography major in college in North Dakota, but over 50 years away has taken its toll. I avoided the traditional student response to multiple choice – “multiple guess” – but at times it was very tempting.
I was very fortunate to have in my bookshelf two books which were source works about North Dakota geography written during the general time period of the test. Melvin Kazeck’s volume is described above; and Bernt Lloyd Wills book, North Dakota, The Northern Prairie State, was a text for North Dakota students. This book included a pleasant surprise (see below).
Neither book appears to be currently available.
A third book in my bookshelf is Dr. Elwyn B. Robinson’s History of North Dakota. I didn’t use this book when searching answers, but it appears to remain the definitive history of North Dakota, and it is still available for purchase.
Each author was, at the time they wrote their book, professors at the University of North Dakota. Kazeck and Wills were geographers; Robinson an historian.
Robinson’s Preface is very interesting to read, and in a few words gives context to North Dakota, and (probably) reveals the reason for the 1957 statewide test for young students like myself:Dr. Elwyn Robinson001
Bernt Lloyd Wills was apparently a graduate of Valley City State Teachers College (VCSTC), my own alma mater.
His Social Studies book appears, in retrospect, to have been a cooperative venture involving college geography teachers across North Dakota. George Kennedy, who expertly taught me all the classes towards my major at VCSTC, contributed a number of the graphs incorporated into the book. Among many VCSTC teachers who stood out, Mr. Kennedy and Mary Hagen Canine (journalism) stand out for me.
On page 262 of Wills book are ND school statistics for 1960 and earlier years. In 1960, in North Dakota, there were 135,548 students in North Dakota Public Schools, of which 35,600 were high school students (most likely grades 9-12). Thus, perhaps 15-20,000 ND students took that Social Studies test in November, 1957.
Wills book includes a chapter on his future vision for North Dakota: “Retrospect and Prospect” is a very interesting read, joining Kazeck’s future view (see above): ND Bernt Wills 1963002
Wills also includes a significant number of poems by Dr. Soren Kolstoe, born in 1888, who was a long time professor at Valley City State Teachers College, and apparently retired in 1958, right before I enrolled at VCSTC. The Kolstoe poems included in the book reverence the land we all know as North Dakota: Soren Kolstoe poems001
And since it can still be purchased, I’d suggest Dr. Elwyn Robinson’s History of North Dakota as a Legacy Book for your descendants. His last chapter, “The Character of a People” catches the essence of the state in which I grew up.
Thank you, North Dakota
Comments:
From NDakotan Rick, May 9, 2013:

I enjoyed the read. I picked out a few plums.
1. Population has been fairly stable since 1920 or so. Low 600,000 number
until recently with the oil boom. Now projected to go over 1 million.
2. Back in 1950, some analysis suggested that if ND developed all of its
natural resources: Oil, Coal and Water. We would add 1 million in
population. ND has developed the coal and most recently the oil. And, it
appears we will add population accordingly. Pretty good insights by those
economists back then. The water never got developed. It was a major project
called the Garrison diversion project that would bring Missouri river water
east for irrigation through-out central and eastern ND. Depended heavily on
federal dollars. Garrison diversion did start in the 60’s and was on and off
again through-out the 60’s,70’s and 80’s depending on which administration
and which congress was in power to dole out public monies. Finally, in the
80’s, it died a final death (Reagan’s terms I believe). Now sits half
finished. I think they brought it as far east as about north of Jamestown.
3. Population was only 2400 (non-native) people in 1870 when statehood was
in the works. Wow, can you imagine. I think ND is desolate now, that’s just
over the population of Hankinson scattered across the entire state.
4. It only cost a total of $70,000.00 in 1950 to own the land and equipment
to operate profitably an average farm of 650 acres. Sounds like simpler
times to me. That total bill today for 650 acres including equipment is 3.2
million.
5. Here’s a real gem for you Jeff. Page #32. If you have a hard time
figuring out the politics of ND. It’s in our DNA. Back in the 1950’s, the
legislation was considering a progressive property tax to keep a level
playing field with farmers. Not let the large farms get bigger at the
expense of smaller farmers. The more land you owned, the higher the property
tax until at some point, the property tax was so high on large farms that it
became unprofitable to be a large farmer. I like it. Never got enacted
though. Sounds like a true progressive liberal policy to me.
From NDakotan Carl May 9, 2013:
After reading the ND forecast article, it reminded me of the uncompleted McClusky Canal. I was teaching in McClusky when they were surveying. (1960-63) My wife is from McClusky so we went out there and checked on the progress of the digging when we went home to the grandparents. It is a shame they didn’t finish the less than six miles to connect to the Lonetree Reservoir. I got the information below by Googling the McClusky Canal. There are some good fishing lakes created by the canal be lower than the surrounding area. In fact one lake was drained an another created. Enjoyed your recent blogs. Carl
Lonetree Wildlife Management Area
The original Garrison Diversion Unit plan utilized the McClusky Canal to transport water resources to the Lonetree Reservoir. The reservoir was intended to be a regulating reservoir connecting the McClusky Canal and the New Rockford Canal. It was deauthorized by the Dakota Water Resources Act of 2000 and, instead, developed into a wildlife conservation area. The Lonetree Wildlife Management Area is operated by the North Dakota Game and Fish Department.
The McClusky Canal is a 73.6-mile-long canal designed to transport Missouri River water to the Sheyenne River, which flows into Lake Ashtabula reservoir above Valley City and, eventually, the Red River, and to the New Rockford Canal, another part of the GDU. The McClusky Canal crosses the continental divide between the Gulf of Mexico drainage basin and the Hudson Bay (Canada) drainage basin. The McClusky Canal has not been completed and currently (2006) does not connect to the Sheyenne River or the New Rockford Canal.
From Bismarck Tribune May 2, 2012, here.

Dick Bernard: Thoughts on Sykeston High School at its Centennial

UPDATE: June 2, 2013: In this post, reference is made to a 100 question state-wide test on North Dakota taken by the author at Sykeston High School in 1957. A post specifically about the test, including an answer key and more related information is here. The May 9 post also includes two assessments of the future of North Dakota which were included in textbooks published in 1957 and 1963. They are interesting to read.
NOTE: This is a very long post which may be of interest to residents of Sykeston ND, or those interested in rural education in ND and elsewhere 50 and more years ago.
Other posts in the series about Sykeston ND:
Feb 11, 2013: “Sykes High, oh Sykes High School”
May 9 A 1957 Social Studies Test
June 12 Remembering Sykeston in late 1940s
June 28 Snapshots in History of Sykeston
June 29 Sports in 1950s small towns in North Dakota
July 3: Remembering Don Koller and the Lone Ranger
July 10: After a visit to Sykeston and Valley City, July 5 and 6, 2013
A postcard brought news of a July 4-6 2013 celebration in Sykeston ND, celebrating the Centennial of Sykeston High School, from which I graduated in 1958.
While I attended the high school only the single year of 1957-58, it is of far more than routine importance to my family. My Dad, Henry, was Superintendent of the School from 1945-51 and again from 1957-61. Mom, Esther, taught in one of the two elementary classrooms there from 1957-61. When the school year began in September, 1945, Dad was 37, Mom had just turned 36. When they left Sykeston in 1961 they were 53 and 51.
Today I’m 73. It is hard to imagine my parents as that young, back then….
Sykes High was a central and crucial part of my life from age five till eighteen, never more than a block or two away from where we lived – home.
I have all of Mom and Dad’s teaching contracts, which are all basically identical to the three sample contracts from the Sykeston years which you can view here: Contracts 45-57-60001
Every contract, in their long careers, was for one year: when you signed the contract, you agreed you were fired at the end of the year. So we kids migrated with them from town to town throughout North Dakota.
But Sykeston held a different status. It was very much our “hometown”.
Right after my graduation in 1958, I went around the town taking (I would guess) ten color photographs with a new camera. Nine of them survive, including this one of the high school, below. (The other eight are at the end of this post. Anyone from Sykeston in that era will recognize them all.)
(click on all photos to enlarge them)

Sykeston High School 1958 by Dick Bernard

Sykeston High School 1958 by Dick Bernard


When Dad came to Sykeston for the 1945-46 school year, Mom was expecting child #4, Frank, who was born in November. She stayed in the tiny town of Eldridge west of Jamestown. Her sister Edith stayed with her for the last months.
Frank was named for Dad’s brother, our Uncle Frank, who had been killed on the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941.
Sometime in the summer of 1945, the family came to Sykeston and Doc and Liz Dummer showed them around. The Germans had just surrendered, beginning the end of WWII, in May 1945 (some of our cousins were Germans, conscripts in the German Army – War is not abstract, “us” vs “them”). Mom’s brother, George Busch, had been hired to teach at Sykeston in the Fall, but was an officer on the Destroyer Woodworth DD460 in the Pacific and his wife, my Aunt Jean, filled in for him till he was discharged in early November, 1945. His ship and many others docked in Tokyo Bay September 10, 1945. As Grandma Rosa wrote about that time: “Hurrah, the old war is over”.
Jean, then George, taught at Sykeston High School for two or three years. Their first child, Mary Kay, was born in the Sykeston years.
Here are a couple of period photos from early our beginnings at Sykeston ND:
Jean and Gloria Dummer and Mary Ann, Florence and Dick Bernard, probably summer of 1945 at Arrowhead Lake.

Jean and Gloria Dummer and Mary Ann, Florence and Dick Bernard, probably summer of 1945 at Arrowwood Lake.


Bernards at the Hafner House on the High School Block, probably January, 1946.  Esther and Henry with Frank, and Richard, Mary Ann and Florence.

Bernards at the Hafner House on the High School Block, probably January, 1946. Esther and Henry with Frank, and Richard, Mary Ann and Florence.


Dad succeeded Everett Woiwode as Superintendent; some years later, Everett rejoined the Sykeston staff while Dad was Superintendent. Both were graduates of Valley City State Teachers College.
Among the local ‘gang’ of kids in the 1940s was Everett’s son, Larry, who at one point was a student at Sykes High, and who is one of North Dakota’s notable citizens, among the recipients of the North Dakota Theodore Roosevelt Rough Rider Awards. For awhile I roamed the Sykeston streets with Larry and the gang!
Writing this brings back many memories of the school* and the town. Two of the most prominent are these:
I vividly remember what had to be Memorial Day in May of 1946. There were crosses on the high school lawn, and an honor guard. It was less than a year after the horrors of World War II.
On another occasion, I’m guessing it was about 1950, a bunch of we boys were playing basketball in the little gym in the basement of the school – I remember the low ceiling and gray painted concrete floor. Dad came down stairs for some reason and fell down the last few steps. Being kids, we didn’t pay much attention, but I remember his fall to this day. He was in his early 40s then, so he probably recovered quickly. We kids were basically clueless and useless.
In April 1948, Dad took this picture of the school:
Sykeston High School April 1948

Sykeston High School April 1948


Like all small town schools in ND, Sykeston never had many students. The 1983 Centennial History of the town gives a good description of education, including the below photo of the High School at its opening in 1913. Here are the relevant pages of the 1983 History: Sykeston ND Schools001. At the July 2013 Reunion, a single page supplement to the 1983 book was made available, including the graduates from 1984-2005. If you have the book, this is worth printing to complete the history: Sykes Grads 1984-2005001
Sykeston High Sch 1913 001
The 1983 History list the names of the graduating seniors from 1916 to 1983. Perhaps still in the hall between the old and new school are the high school senior graduation photos from 1944-2005, the year the school closed.
In 2008 I took photos of all of these, and they are available on an open Facebook album page, including some other photos I added to the display. There was no graduation photo for 1945, possibly reflecting the turmoil around WWII, winding down in Europe, but still intense in the Pacific region. The 1944 photo includes several in military uniform.
Here is a list of the number of graduates in each year from 1916 to 2005: Sykeston Seniors 1916-2005. In all there were about 1050 high school graduates over the schools 92 years. The average class was about 11. The largest high school graduating classes were in 1927, 1936, 1965 and 1967. There were 31 graduates in 1927.
The smallest classes were post baby-boom years. In 2001 and 2002 there were only two graduates, and in 2005, the last year of the school, there were three graduates.
Sykeston’s data gives an interesting look at the ebbs and flows of population (and birth rate) in rural North Dakota, and is probably generally representative of other similar tiny towns in the Midwest.
Probably the proudest year for the town and the High School was 1950 when the Boys Basketball team won Third Place in the State Class C tournament in Valley City. I recall being there, but I was not yet 10, and I was not properly fixed on watching the games!
Much later, Travis Hafner (class of 1995) made a name for Sykeston as Designated Hitter for the Cleveland Indians.
Sykeston Welcome Sr 08001
Luckily, some years ago, I learned that Jean Dummer (Sister Jean) had the 1950 school annual, and I borrowed and copied it. The entire annual is available here: Sykes Hiawatha 50001 You can read, there, the exploits of the 1950 Boys Basketball team.
And I kept the 1958 Hiawatha, which Duffy Sondag and I co-edited. Here is that Yearbook: Sykes Hiawatha 58001 Even back then I wondered why the publisher, Intercollegiate Press of Kansas City, chose the mountain-scape for the inside front and back covers of the Annual. It didn’t quite match with the Sykeston I knew!
Here’s the high school Boys Basketball team for 1958-59, the year after I graduated:
1959 A Team: Jim Bierdeman Bob Miller, Duane Zwinger, Jim Merck and Lowell Fruhwirth

1959 A Team: Jim Bierdeman Bob Miller, Duane Zwinger, Jim Merck and Lowell Fruhwirth


And here’s a portion of the 1968 school newspaper, (reduced from the original legal size), apparently run on the same cantankerous old mimeograph machine that we’d used in 1958: Sykes High news May 68001 The news sheet would win no awards, I’d guess, but nonetheless it was news.
The newspaper says it is Vol. 34; the 1950 Annual was Vol. V, and 1958 was Vol. VIII. What if any meaning those numbers have is unknown.
In 1974, here’s what Sykeston’s Main Street looked like, through my Massachusetts brother-in-laws eyes.
Main Street, Sykeston, 1974, by Hank Maher

Main Street, Sykeston, 1974, by Hank Maher


For little towns, the public schools were an essential part of the very life of the community. When they closed, as Sykeston High School did at age 92, an important part of the town was lost with them: there remained fewer reasons to come to town.
PERSONAL
I’m old enough now (I’m 73 on this very day, May 4, 2013) and far enough away from those Sykeston years so I can reveal how I was (not) as a scholar at Sykes High!
As my 1957-58 Report Card indicates, I was not an especially diligent scholar. I was, in a four-letter word, l-a-z-y…. I only took those few courses, likely, because there were no other classes to take that I had not already completed somewhere else.
Sykeston Rept Card 57-58001
I had no inclination to make mischief, then. That natural kid impulse was never active. Dad was in the Superintendents office, or teaching Problems of Democracy (“Probs”); Mom was a floor below, teaching elementary. They were good teachers and gentle people, but not inclined to let us run free. Somebody from Sykeston said that it seemed I was “afraid of my Dad”. I won’t disagree. I had nothing to be especially afraid of, but he commanded respect. I didn’t test the boundaries.
Sometimes there is a suspicion that teachers kids get some sort of break. Not so, in my family. Best as I can tell, we were treated like everybody else. But neither was I one to overly attend to book-learning, then.
In the last Sykeston year, I did win the County “Know Your State” competition, and in December went to Grand Forks for the finals. In my memory, I finished second, behind Ron Lokken, the son of the President of Valley City State Teachers College.
Here is the test that we all took that November: ND Hist Govt Ctzn 1957001 It is interesting to note what knowledge they emphasized, then.
You can take it yourself, and see how you do.
Here is the list of the ND County finalists who went to Grand Forks December of 1957: ND Hist Co. Winners 1957001 Maybe you’ll see someone who became famous for some reason or another. Not I!
In the spring of 1958, my sister, Florence, was confirmed at St. Elizabeth’s, and we took a family photo at our house just east of the St. Elizabeth Town Hall.
I’m very much aware, at 73, that my parents, in that photo, were only 48 and 50 years old. My oldest child, son Tom, is 49….
1958 - Sykeston.  Back: Esther, Richard, Florence, Mary Ann and Henry; front John and Frank Bernard

1958 – Sykeston. Back: Esther, Richard, Florence, Mary Ann and Henry; front John and Frank Bernard


After graduation, I finally got the motivation to go to college. The motivator was unusual….
My first job was moving dirt, etc. by the wheelbarrow full at the under-construction St. Elizabeth Church across the street from the school. It was somewhere close to where the bell tower of the Church would be constructed that I made the decision that maybe going to college was a pretty good idea, and I then went straight through, summers and all, at Valley City State Teachers College, graduating in December, 1961.
In retrospect, I remember meeting Mr. Lou Bruhn at Valley City State Teachers College sometime earlier. He was Dean of Men there, and he’d been at the college when Mom and Dad were there. Maybe that helped soften me up?!
Ah the memories.
Here’s a 1960 photo of that then-brand new Church where I got education “religion”, plus the other photographs I took in May of 1958 in Sykeston.
Postcard of new St. Elizabeths Catholic Church, Sykeston ND ca 1960

Postcard of new St. Elizabeths Catholic Church, Sykeston ND ca 1960


Lake Hiawatha Spring 1958

Lake Hiawatha Spring 1958


Bridge to the Park, Spring 1958

Bridge to the Park, Spring 1958


Kids on the bridge, Spring 1958, the middle one my brother John, I think

Kids on the bridge, Spring 1958, the middle one my brother John, I think


From Cletus Fruhwirth: I was reading your thoughts on Sykeston, May 4. That colored picture – Kids on the bridge 1958. The tall skinny kid is my brother
Larry Fruhwirth, he would be 18yrs. The little boy is Johnny, I’m sure. and the little girl may be Patty Neumiller, who lived a mile west of us south of Sykeston. In case you didn’t know it, we lived 21/2 miles so. and a 1/4 mile east along highway # 30 which is straight south of Sykeston, and goes down to Medina, N.Dak.. Clete F.
The Swimming beach at Hiawatha Spring 1958

The Swimming beach at Hiawatha Spring 1958


The Water Tower, Spring 1958

The Water Tower, Spring 1958


Our new car, out by the dam, Spring 1958

Our new car, out by the dam, Spring 1958


Lilacs beside the lake, Spring 1958

Lilacs beside the lake, Spring 1958


St. Elizabeth School Spring 1958

St. Elizabeth School Spring 1958


* – Some of the other memories associated with Sykes High School
Being introduced to the evils of cigarettes (at least, cigarette butts) inside the merry-go-round on the school grounds (it had something of a wooden frame inside, and some slats were missing and we could get inside). Dad almost caught we hoodlums once. My career as a smoker was very short. He caught me later that same summer. Thanks, Dad!
Waiting for mandatory shots for athletics in the fall of 1957. Somebody suggested that the doctor inside had a square needle. Of course, that was crazy, but the suggestion was persuasive.
In 1957-58 there were huge surpluses of dairy products and entire pounds of butter were often on the lunchroom table. One of us had a prodigious appetite for butter. Either he got over it, or he has major defenses against cholesterol!
Seeing in a closet in the third floor west classroom a bunch of bound volumes of the early history newspapers from Sykeston. I hope they were given to the North Dakota Historical Society.
Trying to do printing on the mimeograph machine in the office. It was hideous. I empathize with those young scholars who tried to do the 1968 school newspaper that is linked earlier in this post.
“Zoo period” – the big study hall every afternoon, which Mr. Hanson tried to supervise. To my recollection, I never participated (fear, mostly). Some of the guilty will remember. I’ve come to have admiration for Mr. Hanson (who you’ll see pictured on the last page of the 1958 Hiawatha). I often wonder about him.
Henry and Esther Bernard
by Dick Bernard, May 4, 2013
I knew Henry and Esther as Dad and Mom, and from grades 8-12, as my “teacher”. Other readers of this piece who knew them will have a different context: teacher, neighbor, St. Elizabeth’s….. Together, they had 14 annual contracts teaching in the Sykeston High School from 1945-51 and again 1957-61.
Dad (1907-97) was his adult height, 6’3″, when he was in 8th grade in Grafton ND. That was near giant size about 1920. But to my knowledge, he never participated in sports. Likely reason was flat feet. At times, including Sykeston, he had to coach, probably solely because nobody else would or could. He always enjoyed sports. But coaching sports wasn’t his thing.
He was always religious – his best childhood friend became a Monsignor, and he’d likely have become a Priest if Latin hadn’t been so difficult. I never knew he – or Mom – to be pushy about religious beliefs with others, or with us after we left home. But back then, religion could be serious business, whatever your “brand”. One brand of “Christian” was not always very “Christian” with other brands. Then it was socially respectable, a usual practice, for one Christian religion to have not much to do with another.
Today it still happens, but is more covert, but in some ways far more dangerous than the intolerance was, then. Whenever one labels a group as being the problem (“Jews”, “Japs”, “Muslims”, etc.) there is potential for trouble.
To the end of his long life, Dad was bookish. He had both a Masters in Education and an Administrative Credential from University of North Dakota. He was a lifelong learner.
I seem to recall that during 1957-58 in Sykeston he was on a multi-year project to read the biographies of all the U.S. Presidents (Eisenhower was President, then). He’d get the books from the State Library in Bismarck. I never asked if he’d finished his project, but my guess is that he did. He was disciplined that way.
When at the end of July, 1949, the barn roof blew down at Mom’s parents farm near LaMoure – we were there at the time, a couple of hundred feet away – Dad stayed and helped rebuild the roof – a huge task. This was during our Sykeston years. My uncle Vince, now 88, still remembers Dad’s help.
Particularly after Mom died (1981), Dad became a very active volunteer, tutoring Hispanic kids in English at the school across the street from their home in San Benito TX. He did many other volunteer things as well.
Mom (1909-81) was my teacher in 8th grade, out at Ross in 1953-54 (Ross is in the midst of todays oil fields, and was then as well). She taught grades 7 and 8 and I have good memories of her as a teacher. Brother John, then of Kindergarten age in the time before Kindergarten was common, spent the day in the classroom with the rest of us.
She once recalled that as a youngster she had something of a dream to be a salesman. Yes salesMAN. She was enthusiastic. Her cheers stood out at basketball games.
She, too, was religious. They came to Sykeston in large part because St. Elizabeth school was there. In 1946 I started First Grade. All of we kids spent several grades at St. Elizabeth.
All in all, I thought Mom and Dad were pretty good partners. We were kept on a short leash and had our home chores. In my day, a 9:00 curfew was the norm.
Moving on: To be a teacher in those “good old days” was to be insecure. Between my birth and youngest brother John’s graduation from high school – 26 years – we made ten moves, two of them to Sykeston, two away from Sykeston.
We kids were accustomed to unanticipated moves. For our parents, sometimes the move was an undesired reality; at others, there seemed to be a better opportunity in another town. Available and adequate housing was often an issue. More than once, housing was far less than adequate.
I’ve done a great deal of family history over the years, and in some papers I found a letter from my Dad dated early April, 1990, responding to a question I had asked about the first move from Sykeston (1945-51) to Karlsruhe (1951-53). In relevant part he said this: “When I was not rehired in Sykeston, I did not know what to do. Apparently Father Sommerfeld [Sykeston pastor and immigrant from Germany] and Father Zimmerman [another native German Priest in nearly 100% German-Russian Karlsruhe] were good friends and Father Sommerfeld suggested that I apply for the school in Karlsruhe. One Saturday morning I drove to Karlsruhe to inquire. I was filled with doubts. When I got to the road that led to Karsruhe, north of Drake, I stopped the car, got out and wondered, should I go on or turn back home? I did go on. Don’t know whether I talked to Father Zimmerman first or a school board member, but apparently things worked out all right. I remember that on the way back to Sykeston that I picked up a couple of discarded automobile tires as we were still in need of the furnace at Sykeston….”
(Our Sykeston home, then, was the most northern house in town. Later Gartners lived there. The house has since burned down.)
After six years in three other places (Karlsruhe, Ross and Antelope Consolidated near Mooreton), we returned to Sykeston in 1957. I graduated from Sykes High in 1958; Mary Ann graduated in 1960.
Dad was again non-renewed in Sykeston at the end of the 1960-61 year, and the family moved to Tolley, where Florence and Frank graduated (1962 and 1963); thence to Tolna, where John graduated in 1966.
The early 1960s seems to have been a stressful community time in Sykeston and this seems to have had some impact on Dad’s employment. I was in college the last three years of their teaching in Sykeston, and almost never came home, so I don’t recall any talk about why the next non-renewal took place.
The Sykeston 1983 Centennial History says the addition to the high school was built in 1959 during Dad’s second four years at Sykeston. This apparently is in error. The addition was built after Bernard’s left in 1961. Assorted stresses may have related to changes at St. Elizabeth’s (the Centennial History says that “the only lay [non-Nun] teacher in the school’s history, was employed in 1961-62″ – a really big deal).
Growth of high school age population due to the post WWII Baby Boom, resulting in the need for a bond referendum to build an addition to the public school was doubtless a major factor as well. Even by then, likely, some elders knew that behind the baby boom was decline. Why build a new school that won’t be necessary in a few years? It would be a reasonable question, just like, these days, a reasonable debate in Sykeston may well be how to treat this venerable old building, essentially unused for the last eight years? It is a difficult question.
One of my siblings recalls that about 1961 the issue of religious tensions loomed a little more important than usual in Sykeston. I don’t know that. Mom and Dad apparently chose to move on rather than challenge the dismissal, as some community members had encouraged.
I spent an entire career in public education and I know that schools are more than anything else cauldrons of relationships, positive and not so positive, and things do happen as school boards change, etc.
It takes a thick skin and luck and lots of political savvy to survive very long as a Superintendent of Schools, given changes in school boards, etc. There are, annually, unpopular decisions to be made. And mistakes are made, too.
In addition to my parents, I had two uncles and three aunts who were teachers, a number of them career, all beginning in North Dakota. The stories of employment instability were all similar. If the annual contract was not renewed for whatever reason, the only choice was to move on. I have said frequently over the years that teachers were truly public Servants (with a capital S). It was just how it was. I don’t think that many community members, anywhere, gave this much of of a thought.
Nonetheless, of all the places that we lived, I think all of we Bernard’s, including our parents, would agree that Sykeston was as close to a home town as we ever had, and we remember it as such.
And that is good!
Have a great reunion and remembering!

Favorite photo of Henry Bernard visiting Sykeston August, 1970

Favorite photo of Henry Bernard visiting Sykeston August, 1970


Related: My story about Sykeston days written in June, 2008 can be viewed here. Also, a post published Friday, May 3, here; and another published Sunday, May 5, which is here. All are related very directly to reminiscing about Sykeston days.
I’m sure the Sykeston Committee would like to hear from you. Here’s the contact page.
Dick with son-in-law and two of nine grandkids, Orlando, March 23, 2013

Dick with son-in-law and two of nine grandkids, Orlando, March 23, 2013

#709 – Dick Bernard: The Boston Marathon

Yesterday morning, before 9 a.m., I was at the gym exercising at my usual place. Behind me, visible in the mirror, were two women, exercising beside each other and quite loudly chatting.
One of them mentioned to the other that her husband was in Boston, running the Marathon, checking in from time to time.
A few hours later I heard the news of the bombs at the finish line at the Marathon. This probably changed the woman’s conversation. Perhaps I’ll read in the Woodbury MN news something about this today or maybe next week…. Such is how communication goes these days. Instant and worldwide.
I got to thinking about two happenings in my own life.
Back on April 20, 1999, I was in the car on the freeway in north Minneapolis when I heard that there had been shooting at a school in Littleton, Colorado.
Littleton. That was where my son and family lived.
Soon enough, I learned my granddaughter, then 13 and in Middle School, was safe. No cell phones then. It was via e-mail.
I tried to find where Columbine high school was on the then-version of Mapquest. The school location on the map was misplaced, I soon learned. My son and family, it turned out, lived only a mile from the high school, and later he said he probably had seen the two killers the previous day in a local McDonalds restaurant – just three of the customers at that time, that day.
But in those days, communications was not quite so convenient or instant (though it was pretty good.) There were cell phones of a sort, but not ubiquitous like now. There was cable, but not hundreds of stations vying on the competitive edge for news. I don’t think I was thinking, then, about what has since become something of a mantra for me: “too many news people, too little news.”
Then I thought back further, to December 7, 1941, when my Uncle – Dad’s brother – went down with the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor.
I was alive then, just 1 1/2, so I didn’t pay much attention.
Dad told me about his memories of that awful time years later. They didn’t know for certain that his brother, Frank Bernard, had died until some weeks later. The time was so chaotic that I don’t think there was even an organized Memorial Service for Frank. His parent were in Long Beach for the winter and had no car (they traveled by train, then), his sister in Los Angeles, and his brother in rural North Dakota. Making even a phone call was not a routine matter. No television. Less radio. The news coming via newspaper – I have the clippings.
We tend to forget that.
And now we are besieged for hours upon hours by repetitive images of the same exact thing; by speculation by experts about who done it, and why it was done. Everybody with their own agenda for communicating whatever it is they choose to communicate.
We’re a big country, and such incidents will happen from time to time.
We used to worry about the Russians bombing our school in central North Dakota in the 1950s; now, well you know….
We need to get a grip and keep things in a bit better perspective.
It was bad, what happened in Boston, yesterday.
As a city and as a nation and as a world we’ll survive it.
We really have it pretty good, here.

#704 – Dick Bernard: "You oughta go tah, Nor Dakota…"*

* – Once upon a time, the North Dakota promotional anthem (at least as I remember it). I can hum it still. Wish it were on YouTube….
But the title “masks” a more serious message, today.
Recently, within a day or two of each other, came two links: one from a present day and lifelong North Dakotan; the other from a born and raised, but many years out-of-state North Dakota native.
Here is one, an article and photo album from The Atlantic magazine about the oil boom in western North Dakota.
I’ve seen quite a number of articles, photos and commentaries about the second boom in ND’s Williston Basin (I lived there, at Ross as an 8th grader, in 1953-54, so experienced mostly the down-side of it, then). I wonder, often, about the true “cost-benefit analysis” of the boom: there are big (money) benefits, yes, but what are the short and long-term and huge costs, not just in money terms….
The below photo is the other, following by a day the North Dakota legislature and Governors action outlawing abortion, deliberately pushing the envelope on the matter of State’s Rights (one would presume) 40 years after Roe v. Wade.
Image
Both the article and the photo come from fellow alumni of Valley City State Teachers College ca 1960-62.
Both the article and the photo, in my opinion, illustrate that all is not all that simple in the state of my birth, my home for all but 28 months (21 of those in the U.S. Army) of my first 25 years of life.
I’ve been absent from North Dakota for the last 48 years, but North Dakota is a very big part of me. The first family member saw the Missouri River at Bismarck with Gen. Sibley’s forces in 1863; my descendants have lived in what was to become North Dakota since 1878.
When I began this blog in 2009, I decided to include two photos on the home page. One is of a North Dakota country road between Berlin and Grand Rapids and my uncle and aunts beloved dog Sam (dec 1995).
The other (below), looking north from Hawk’s Nest west of Carrington ND, was taken at the time of the Sykeston community reunion in July, 2008, also the 50th anniversary of my high school graduation from Sykeston High School.
(click to enlarge)

From Hawk's Nest, July 2008

From Hawk’s Nest, July 2008


Photos, it is often said, speak thousands of words.
The landscape from Hawk’s Nest is the North Dakota I remember. The billboard above, likely a creation of photo shop technology, has a far more harsh message about North Dakota in this Easter week, 2013.
The billboard “photo” speaks its own volumes.
Early this week the North Dakota legislature passed, and the Governor signed, one of the most draconian anti-abortion measures ever passed anywhere in the country. There are thousands of words, including the Governors own, about the intention of these laws and the upcoming citizens initiative in the state of North Dakota. The months ahead will determine the wisdom – or stupidity – or unbridled arrogance – of North Dakota’s elected leadership.
The people will decide.
What the folks at the capitol building in Bismarck may not have adequately considered, however, is that most of we North Dakotans by birth and upbringing, no longer live in North Dakota, and may have our own stories, and our own ability to impact on the decision making in the state that we may not, now, physically live; but whose geography and history lives on in each of us.
This goes for me as well.

I left North Dakota in May, 1965, for a very simple reason: my wife was dying. In fact, she died at the University of Minnesota Hospital two months after we crossed the North Dakota-Minnesota line. Three days before she died I had signed a contract for a new job in the Twin Cities, and except for visits, I have not gone back to my “home state”.
But I do go back every year, and will, again, go back in May.
My heart is always there, in North Dakota.
But, back in 1965, only two months before I left North Dakota, the possibility of abortion needed to cross the minds of Barbara and I. I wrote about how this came to be in one of my early blog posts, which has a simple heading “Abortion”, and was filed in October, 2009. You can read it here.
Even then, we had no available legal options.
Today, I can add a small financial “voice” to the upcoming struggle in ND, and will do so; and I am still deciding what to convey to the ND Governor and Legislators representing the many towns that I lived in back then, including Elgin, from which my wife left in an ambulance near the end of May, 1965.
Gov. Dalrymple and the prevailing legislators may consider themselves to be clothed with great authority.
The people will speak….

I’d ask you to consider passing this commentary along to others.