Esther's

[Editor note:  After Glenn Hoplin's remembrances of 304 Drury Ave in the 20's and 30's, I return to 1957 for a look at the same address from the next generation's perspective - the grandchildren. The “Grandma’s house” stories in this episode are a compendium of Hoplin grandchildren memories]

A grandfather's lament. Why is it always “Grandma’s House”?  Let’s go to Grandma’s house!  Poor Grandpa, hardly noticed.

In 1957,  I had the unrecognized privilege of living practically across the street from my grandmother - and grandfather.  Ole was pretty much always working, but then again, so was Esther, but she seemed so much more productive to that 10 year old, making doughnuts, cookies, baking bread, cooking delicious meals.  

Many of my memories of 304 Drury Avenue get to my brain through the nose.  The house always had wonderful aromas emanating from that big kitchen. In my memory, grandma was always in the kitchen, a kitchen with 4 entryways.  The kitchen had a huge picture window looking across the fields to the east and the Soo Line tracks beyond highway 55. Grandchildren loved to sit by the kitchen table, eat cookies and milk and wait for the noon freight and counting the cars. Sometimes it was 3.

Esther was a wonderful baker - breads, cookies of all kinds (date filled, ginger, sugar cookies, mint frosted chocolate, elephant ears), Scandinavian delicacies - krumkake, rosettes, flatbread, and the best lefse this side of Spring Grove, together with the ever present egg-coffee steaming in a glass Pyrex pot on the stove.  The entry-way on the north served as a pantry and the shelf in that space was stacked high with cookie tins, angel food cake containers and numerous pans of goodies.

But Esther’s signature item was her fantastic doughnuts which she put on a broomstick and handed out at Halloween - a must stop on the trick-or-treat rounds. Her doughnut secret was to take the doughnut out of the hot oil and dunk it in boiling water.  This removed excess oil and made Esther’s doughnuts better than any other. An added bonus, the hot water with the doughnut grease made excellent soup stock. Some would use additives, like rolling them in sugar or dunking them in coffee, but I preferred them neat.

In the 20’s, Esther had up to 12 people to feed daily - husband, father, father-in-law, 7 children, brother, and at least 9 through the 30’s until the nest began to empty in 1936.  And herself of course, although often she would not take time to sit down and eat, just downing a raw egg on the run.

I suppose it was not as often as I think I remember, but it seemed nearly every Sunday dinner during summer was at Esther’s.  The long dining room table was filled with local (I grudgingly include Brandon & Glenwood as “local”) family and frequently sons and daughters and their families from the Twin Cities or North Dakota.  Ole’s Brandon siblings made rare appearances, but Esther had brothers and cousins in Lowry, Alexandria, Fergus Falls and Kenora who appeared occasionally and were welcomed with open arms. (Esther was the only daughter in the Carl Nelson family - sister Ida died at age 2). And in the early 50’s the Latvian displaced persons (Anna “Ooma”, Angie & Julius Jegers, Vera Gailitis & Albert Vigants) were often at the Sunday feasts - they called Esther “mother”. The dining room had the necessary long table and 3 curved glass cabinets to hold the Fostoria glassware - and a big oak hutch to hold the good dishes.

The house itself was a unique design in Lowry. To me it looked like a barn.  Seemed weird until later in life I visited Sweden and saw many houses that looked like Ole & Esther’s.  The focal point of the house was the kitchen, but the dining room/living room ran the entire length of the house on the west side.  This was intentional, designed to facilitate funeral services.  It was a house endlessly interesting to explore - except for Uncle Dave’s room, which was off limits. (However, when my wife & I lived in that house in 1972 with Uncle Dave - Ole & Esther having moved to the Glenwood Retirement Home - our son Matt (age 2) had the run of Dave’s room, Dave calling him “Little Paulie”) And the south bedroom was still referred to as Grandpa Carl's room although he died in 1938.  

From the top down, there were interesting places to explore in that house.  There were 4 bedrooms on the upper level and an attic with a stairway on springs that could be pulled down from the ceiling.  I didn’t get up there often, but there were trunks of stuff up there and a WWI spiked German helmet! The basement was a little creepy with a separate entrance,  a cistern and a enameled table that looked like it should be in a morgue.

There was also a clothes chute in the upstairs hallway that tempted a young cousin to take a direct route to the basement - ending up stuck.  He may still be there.  And there was a unique clothes drying system. A wire clothes line was strung from a pole at the far east point of the lot to a pulley mounted by the back door.  You simply hung your wet clothing on the line and moved the line around the pulley - never having to move from your spot. Ingenious. And then there was this contraption that sat in the kitchen next to the entry to the dining room that looked like something from a horror movie - a "Mangler". (there is such a movie - look it up). It was used for ironing clothes and linens. Most of the sheets had large brown burn marks, but it was fast.

The driveway made a half loop around the house and was bordered with bowling ball sized whitewashed rocks.  Perhaps an idea brought home from the war, where military bases used this device to keep the troops busy endlessly painting rocks.  A grandson got rock painting duty occasionally.  Ole had DeSotos, until they went out of business, which he parked by the back door.  Uncle Dave's black Buick was parked in the front.

Apple trees lined the border to the north with Robiesons. The field of view to the east was open clear to the Soo Line tracks across 55.  The North Dakota flatlander cousins loved that "big hill" below the house.

A place chocked full of great memories.

And a bonus for you

Just so no one can claim that there is nothing of value in this episode, I include something precious: Grandma Esther’s donut recipe.

Esther was famous in Lowry for dressing up as a witch on Halloween and dispensing donuts from a broom handle. She saw every kid’s costume every year – some of us more than once. I suspect she’d get a visit from the Pope County sheriff these days.

Step 1: Assemble the equipment. Purchase a good quality mixer - Kitchenaid makes a nice one ($300); a deep fryer ($100); a donut maker ($30); a good quality exhaust fan ($2000 installed – you might do without it but you will smell donut grease for 6 weeks and in 6 weeks you will crave donuts again. This is known in my trade as an infinite loop). You should only need to do step 1 once or twice in a lifetime.

Step 2. Assemble the ingredients.

3 well beaten eggs  [Farm fresh brown eggs of course.]

2 c. white sugar

1 c. sweet milk [X-Gen translation = 1⁄2 & 1⁄2]

1 c. sour cream

1 t. salt

2 t. baking powder

1 t. soda

6 crushed cardamom seeds [This if you want authentic, but, personally, no thanks. Esther made some with and some without.]

2 t. vanilla [From Axel Erickson, the Watkin’s man. During prohibition, this was in very short supply due to its use in stills.]

5 c. flour [Better if 2 of the 5 are cake flour]

1 t. cinnamon 

1 t. nutmeg

Texture is everything. 2 of the 5 c. should be cake flour if you want it right. Ofcourse, Esther did not have this, but I think she sifted the bee-jeesus out of it. (She wouldn’t approve of my language, BTW)

Step 3. Execute to plan. This recipe involves scalding hot oil and boiling water so it must be performed by a responsible adult. This eliminates most people so I am wondering why I'm bothering.

Put the dough in the ice box over night. You can handle it with less flour that way. When each donut is cooked, have a pan of boiling water beside and plunge each one into it (Editor’s note: use a tongs) and drain on paper toweling. This takes care of any grease left on them and the shortening from the water is very good and flavorful for cookies.

Step 4: Cleanup. Hmm, what to do with that donut grease? Stash it in the cistern for reuse in 6 weeks. Throw away your cooking clothes.

Step 5: Consumption. I suspect you will squirrel away your own private stock somewhere, to be found appropriately on St. Patrick’s Day dressed in green - assuming you have any left after the execute step.

Depression Years

Editor note:  This is the 3rd and final installment of the Glenn Hoplin reminiscences, this describing living through the depression years in Lowry.

The stock market crashed in 1929 and it became difficult to provide for 11 people.  [Editor note: Ole, Esther, 7 children, father Carl Nelson, brother Dave Nelson. Father Nils Hoplin died in 1927].  
The Depression of the 30’s was a lesson in survival. During those years, most of the payments on the Sogaarden note were not made. Had this mortgage been held by a financial institution, we would certainly have suffered foreclosure.  [Editor note:  In 1927, Ole Hoplin borrowed $7500 from the Sogaarden brothers to build the home at 304 Drury Ave.]

Many attempts were made by the Roosevelt administration to prime the economic pump – an alphabet soup of programs: WPA, PWA, NRA, CCC to name but a few. Nothing seemed to significantly improve the economy until 1939 and the war in Europe, bringing people to work producing war materials. The government programs provided money for people to exist in manner people today cannot imagine. What is called poverty today would have been deemed extreme luxury during the depression. The Hoplin family survived the depression in large degree to the generous credit arrangements of McIver’s Store and Martin & Peter Sogaarden.  [Editor note: The Hoplin Hardware Co. of Brandon was a victim of the depression, entering bankruptcy in the early 30’s]

In 1930, Dr. Gibbon died. His widow Anna asked Ole to buy the Hudson Super Six automobile. It had a hood longer than the car body, a huge engine and an insatiable appetite for gasoline. It was equipped with puncture proof tires. The depression had hit and Anna could not get rid of the vehicle, so she told dad he had to buy it for $400. She said he owed them that. It was the only family auto owned by the family other than the 1923 Overland. It was little used because it cost so much to operate.

During the ‘30s in Lowry, many youngsters were taking violin lessons from Mrs. Bill Lesley. She directed an all violin orchestra of 15-20 children scratching away at most PTA meetings. Glenwood High School had an orchestra that was heavily supplied with string players from Lowry. I was one of the diligent students, practicing perhaps up to 15 minutes a day, after which I had expended so much energy and concentration I became exhausted and laid my instrument on the davenport while I rested and considered. Brother Bud entered the scene and sat on the davenport separating the neck of the violin from its body. This terminated a very promising musical career and opened the door for Ole Bull – leaving me to a plumber’s life.

Dorothea Lange's classic Migrant Mother depicts destitute pea pickers in California, a mother of seven children, age 32, March 1936.

The economic deprivations of The Great Depression of the 1930’s were compounded by the “Dust Bowl”.  Records for hot dry weather still stand and year after year of below average rainfall parched the land. The wind blew continuously and the days were desperately hot. The sun was a red ball at high noon because of all the dust in the air. In 1934 Lake Malmedahl was dry. Most of the lakes in the area had very low water levels and trees grown on the shoreline, some with trunks of 5” diameter or more, which indicates the length of the drought conditions. The Strandness’ farmed Malmedahl’s lake bottom.  They had constructed fences to pasture cattle and grew flax.  On July 4, 1935, it began to rain, filling the lake with a single rain and ruining the crop.  The 4^th of July celebration at the Fairgrounds in Glenwood found people stranded with water up to the floorboards of their cars.  There were mixed feelings - rejoicing at the desperately needed moisture - but wishing that it wouldn’t have to come in such biblical proportions.  

For several years crops were poor and livestock feed scarce. Much of the grain was so short that bundles could not be made with a binder, so the grain was cut and winnowed like hay. The threshing machines were set with the blower through the barn down and the straw blown in for livestock feed. Every growing green thing was used for feed. The fences had drifts of topsoil like snow and the trash and tumbleweed collected along the fence lines. It is impossible to imagine the poverty brought by the drought and depression unless you have experienced the devastation. And to compound matters, the winter of 1936 was the coldest in record. Most people had coal burning appliances but no money to buy coal.

The drought years alone were tough, but together with the worst depression in history, it became a terrible struggle to provide just the basic needs for a family.  Many families lost their farms and went to work at jobs provided by federal programs. The federal government instituted numerous programs.  NRA – National Recovery Act.  The CCC – Civilian Conservation Corps, a program that put young men to work with the forest service, many times working for room, board and clothing.  

In 1938 city water was installed by a PWA project. The  PWA – Public Works Administration created work for contractors.  In this program, government contracts were issued to build infrastructures in small towns and cities.  The government dictated policy and wage scales.  Laborers were given 55 cents / hour.  Many men were working for $1 a day.  Under this program, Henry Nodland Construction of Starbuck constructed the municipal water system.  The amount of the contract was so small that it’s hard to believe so much could be gotten for so little.  All the 6 & 8” cast iron water mains, hydrants, a new well and well house, a 10 HP deep well turbine pump, a 100’ water tower and tank.  Every joint in the cast iron mains were joined with oakum and molten lead.  Ditches were dug with a huge chain digger with a belt conveyor.  Backfilling was done with a drag line.

I worked for Henry Nodland for 55 cents/hour, which was fabulous. People complained that an 18 year old kid who didn’t know anything should be paid such an outlandish amount. Most of the days were 10 hours and since I lived in town, I was asked to take care of lighting all the flares and fill them with kerosene and then extinguish them in the morning. I also rose early to light the fire under the lead pot so the molten lead was ready for the 7 AM work start. I was supposed to get an extra hour’s pay for this. For several blocks the 6”, 18’ long pipes were laid along the ditch with the bell ends reversed. These then had to be turned 180 degrees into the ditch.

WPA road building in Northern Minnesota - 1933

The WPA - Work Progress Administration -provided jobs that built roads, parks, and public buildings.  The skating rink in Lowry was constructed with a warming house that has a fireplace of native rock.  The building remains to the present day, however the fireplace has been removed.  The schoolhouse was shingled, all the maple flooring in the classrooms were taken up, cleaned, re-laid and sealed.  The entire interior of the school was given a coat of Kalsomine.  The cedar trees that lined the east side of Highway 114 were moved by the WPA from directly behind the school building.  These trees had been used as enclosures for the outdoor plumbing – one for the boys and one for the girls.  There were 3-4 toilets in each enclosure with access through the trees.  Amazingly, every tree survived the transplant.  In recent years, apartments have been constructed just east of this tree line and the shade of these trees adds to the location. 

In the 1930’s, radio was in its infancy. Early radios had three batteries and you had to wear a headset to listen. Later a huge horn amplifier was placed on top of the radio. The radios had several tuning dials to try to find a station and static was standard. The telephone was a box on the wall with a crank and an operator answering “Number please?”.  Lindbergh had made his famous New York to Paris flight in 1927, but commercial flights were very limited. Very few roads were surfaced and many autos still had “side curtains”. A cup of coffee was a nickel - same price for an ice cream cone. Most homes did not have indoor plumbing – peach wrappers were prized. People helped one another and shared the little there was, produce from their gardens, milk if they had a cow. Bartered labor was a common practice – no one had money to buy things. Local merchants extended credit to people for long periods and beyond reasonableness. Most farming was with horsepower and the farmer raised his own fuel. 

Rural electrification came to area in the late ‘30s.  Dad had a master’s electrician’s license and began wiring farms all around the area.  Sometimes there were two crews working, one wiring the house and the other string yard wire from the yard pole to the buildings.  All the work was by hand.  Holes were drilled by hand with Miller Falls Corner braces.  All sawing was with hand tools.  The crews became very efficient at fishing wire in old houses.  It supplied the very basic needs – lights and a few outlets.  People were happy with this convenience after struggling with kerosene lamps that were smelly and offered little light.  The saying was “you needed to light a match to see of the lamp was burning”.  However there were vastly improved forms of non-electric light, so called Aladdin Lamps.  It burned kerosene, had a mantle and burned with beautiful white light..  The gasoline lantern had two mantles and a pressurized gasoline tank that had to have its generator heated with raw gasoline before the mantles would function.  These lamps created a fine parts business for wicks, lamp chimneys, mantles and burners.

The commodity prices during the Depression were unbelievable low.  The market was putrid. So even though the drought was broken, the suffering continued.  Not until 1939 and the onset of war in Europe did the economy improve.  Before the US entered the war after Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941), the US supplied war materials to Great Britain under the Lend Lease program.   All kinds of materials, including ships were delivered.  After December 7, 1941, US industry converted completely to military production.  Almost all consumer goods production shut down.  Auto makers converted to tanks, airplanes, ships and other war materials.  With so many men gone to fight, much of this construction work was done by women and older men.

Every generation seems compelled to tell how tough it had it.  I remember Grandpa Nils telling how he worked building the railroad when he immigrated, working with a pick & shovel and wheelbarrow sixteen hours a day and a slave driver for a boss.  When I look at railroad grades, I see lots of wheelbarrows of dirt.  A generation later, I remember John Lind telling me “ You young whippersnappers don’t know nothing.   When you’ve dragged the ground I’ve plowed, then you’ll know something.”

[Editor notes: At the height of the Great Depression in 1932-33, it is estimated that there were 16 million unemployed, a rate exceeding 30%. Extreme unemployment drove men to ride the rails in empty boxcars looking for jobs and a “hobo culture” developed. A hobo sign-language, “Hobo Marks”, developed to warn or assist men who might cross the same path. I have no evidence, but I am convinced the Ole Hoplin residence was “marked” because a continual stream of impoverished men appeared at their doorstep looking for handouts. Esther never turned anyone away, but they were never allowed to enter the house. They would eat on the back steps.]

From The Hobo Code posted by Daniel Lew 2006
The variety of messages passed between hobos is incredible. There are some basic traveling symbols such as "go this way," "don't go that way," or "get out fast." Then there's praises and warnings of the locals - "doctor, no charge," "police officer lives here, not kind to tramps," "dangerous neighborhood," "you may sleep in barn." Some of my favorites messages I've heard of are "good lady lives here, tell a hard luck story," "fake illness here," "road spoiled, full of other hobos."  Hobo signs were typically drawn onto utility poles using charcoal or some other type of temporary writing material that would wash out in time with the weather. Sometimes they would write on railroad trestle abutments, outcropping rocks, or even on houses when referring to those who lived inside.]

The Funeral Business

[Editor note: Again, I abandon 1957 for a look at Glenn Hoplin's reminiscences, this focused on the early Hoplin funeral business which started soon after Ole Hoplin and his Nelson brothers-in-law acquired the hardware business in Lowry in 1916.  It was Lowry Hardware, Machinery & Furniture Co.  Since, the main furniture items were coffins - it was was a logical to provide a  "full service" - hence ...]

Ole Hoplin attended the University of Minnesota School of Mortuary Science in Minneapolis in 1920 when it was a six month course granting an embalmer’s license.  Up to that point, embalming was done by Herman Berry of Glenwood.  At that time the U of M accepted students with an 8^th grade education.  Paul Albinson was a classmate of Ole’s, which later proved to be advantageous to his offspring. [Editor note:  Oliver, Glenn & Paul all worked for Albinson Funeral Home in Minneapolis while attending college.]

U of M mortuary class 1920 - Ole Hoplin on right

In the early days most of the embalming was done in homes – a folding embalming table and a large suit case carrier containing instruments, bottles of embalming fluid and receiving bottles.  Cosmetics were in a separate case.  

The first Hoplin hearse was a horse-drawn vehicle with glass sides purchased from the Nelson Funeral Home in Brooten.  It had runners that would replace the large solid rubber tired wheels for winter use.  This hearse is now in the Pope County Historical Society in Glenwood, MN.  

In those days, the funeral service was normally held in the home, followed by a procession to the church for services and burial.   

The 2^nd Hoplin hearse was a motor driven Studebaker 1920 chassis.  It had a carved wood body with double doors to the rear.  The lower level had rollers for the casket.  The upper deck was used for hauling flowers, lowering devices and various necessary equipment.  There was a hinged, glass divider behind the driver’s seat for access to the upper level, with a hanging strap for raising or lowering the glass.  There was also a curtain that could be lowered so that the material on the upper deck could be hidden from view.  The Studebaker chassis proved to be unreliable so the carved body was transferred to a Dodge Brothers, 1925 truck chassis.   The Dodge had a 12 volt igniting system and a transmission backward from the standard of the time – low,  upper left; second, lower right; high, upper right; reverse, lower left.  This vehicle proved to be very dependable and its high clearance made it excellent in snow conditions.

This hearse was used until 1936, when a Chrysler 2-door car was purchased for $895, to be rebuilt into a hearse.  It was in the spring, graduation time, and Oliver used it that night.  That was exciting.  A deal was made with a Fergus Falls body shop to convert this car into a combination hearse & ambulance.  The car was cut in two behind the door post and another door was hung on the rear half of the car.  All car parts had to be extended: roof, drive shaft, hydraulic brake lines, wiring and frame.  The rear seat was removed and a flat roof installed with casket rollers and a side loading hearse was created.  

Ambulance service was now added to the business repertoire.  The unit was used to transport many patients, often to Minneapolis.  Charges were $5 for the call and 5 cents / mile.  The floor had an anchor hook for securing the ambulance cot and a socket for an ambulance attendant seat.  Part of the agreement with the body shop was to also convert the 1925 Dodge hearse into a pickup.   The total contract amount was $895.

Funerals were staffed by Lowry Hardware personnel and the Hoplin children, who often removed themselves from school to assist.  In those days the undertaker furnished the cemetery equipment – a lowering device, artificial grass around the grave and over the dirt pile.  A pine rough box was provided and lowered into the grave prior to the service.  Sometimes the size of the hole was miscalculated and some digging was necessary.  The rough boxes were trimmed with hinges for the cover and a rope so the cover could be closed when the casket was lowered into it.  Apparently Oliver knew he wanted to be an undertaker from grade school on, so he was the good help.

The 1927 home was built with the funeral business in mind.  The house had a preparation room in the basement and a basement entrance on the south-east.  After city water became available in 1938, the huge cisterns were demolished and the laundry moved to the north-east corner, formerly occupied by the cistern.  The concrete forming the cisterns had to be carried out.  Some was used to fill the 3’ below basement space of the cisterns.  The basement room on the south became the casket display room.  These were displayed on racks fabricated from pipe and designed so one casket could be displayed close to the floor and another above could be displayed open.  All caskets were covered with a cloth casket cover when not on display.

Dad had a funeral in Brandon on Christmas Eve sometime in the 30’s.  The roads between Brandon and Lowry were totally blocked, but Dad wanted to get home for Christmas.  He managed to get to Alexandria by train and Uncle Sam Nelson, who lived in Alexandria, drove him to the Highway 29 Soo Line crossing north of Glenwood.  From there he walked the tracks – 7 miles – to Lowry, carrying his embalming equipment.  For those familiar with the spot, remember this was before Trunk Highway 55 was constructed.  There were only the railroad tracks to Lowry.

In 1946, the Berry Funeral Home of Glenwood, MN was purchased.  [Editor note:  Berry is a great name for a funeral business.]  It consisted of an old house, to which Herman Berry had added a long garage to the east where cars and hearses were parked in tandem.  It had a flat room and doors on both ends.  Oliver felt there should be some identifying sign, so he purchased a large neon sign that had hung on the wall of Enga Funeral Home in north Minneapolis.  The sign, in large blue neon letters glowed FUNERAL HOME.  Leif Dahl and I hauled the sign to Glenwood and placed it on the roof of the garage of the funeral home.  We connected up the power supply and made it operational.  A screw driver rolled off the sign and smashed the letters HOME.  Mission completed, but very disappointing.      
[Editor note: Luckily the smashed letters weren't "ERAL"                                                                                                                                                              

304 Drury Avenue

This week I have a guest blogger and a change from the 1957 theme.  The following description of the Ole Hoplin residence on Drury Ave is based upon my father's (Glenn Hoplin) reminiscences for a "Hoplin Family History" I put together in 2007.  True to form, you will find an enormous amount of technical detail in the descriptions, unlike any family history document you have ever read, I suspect. The author was notorious for his curiosity, particularly about mechanical apparati.  This was dictated from memory.  I share it here with you. 

[Editor note: in 1927, the Hoplins were living in the "Axel Erickson" house, 336 Drury Ave.] 

...

At this point, it became apparent that the family had outgrown their home – and apparently didn’t know how to stop the growth – so decided to build a large Swedish style home.  It was the “Roaring Twenties” and conditions seemed favorable to invest in the home and retire a mortgage in ten years.  Financing was through a promissory note for $4500 in the favor of Peter and Martin Sogaaden, who lived on a farm north of Lowry.

[Editor note: the Sogaaden's received few payments during the 30's and the note was not completely paid off until after the war]


336 Drury Ave was rented to the Axel Erickson family throughout the depression years.

Donald, Glenn, Gertrude & Caroline Middents, Elise, Oliver 

The new home at 304 Drury Avenue was designed to serve both as a residence and funeral home.

[Editor note:  The basement held the preparation rooms and frequently funeral services were held in the living room, followed by a procession to the church and the burial. During the cold winters and frozen ground, it was not uncommon for Esther to have several coffins in her basement.]

Construction began in the fall of 1927 with several siblings symbolically putting shovels to the earth for the basement.  Elmer and Bernard Erickson from Starbuck were the carpenters.  They were excellent craftsmen in a day where all construction was with hand-tools. 

Work progressed through the winter of 1928.  Dad did the electrical, plumbing and heating.  I remember helping dad pull wire through the holes in the joist in which porcelain tubes had been inserted.  There was a square hole opening in the floor framed for the chimney.  I was backing up and fell through the hole to the basement.  Luckily, the hole was also used to sweep the building sawdust and board ends to the basement, so the landing was fairly soft.  There have been some question how this event has adversely affected the faller’s future behavior.

When the home was built, another building with the same design was built below the house next to the alley.  It housed the 1923 Overland, hay and straw for the cow.  The cow was housed in a lean-to to the east of this building.  It had one stall with a stanchion, manure gutter and a concrete floor.  The “barn” was at some point sold and moved to a location on the NP hill in Glenwood west of Highway 29.  During the summer after the sweet corn had been harvested, we would go to the garden and cut the corn stalks for feed for the cow.  During this time, it seemed mother (Esther) did much of the milking.  When the cow needed “replacement”, dad traded with Chester Bennett – an early battery radio for a cow.

In rural Minnesota of 1928, radio was in its infancy and long outdoor antennas were necessary to get reception.  In the new house, a wire for antenna connection was installed to every room in the house for future radio use.  None was ever used.

The house was equipped with indoor plumbing. A half-bath was located on the first floor with room for a sewing machine.  In the upstairs, there was a full bath with a 4 ½’ cast iron tub with shower under the window.  Toilets on both floors were case silent flush one piece closets – state of the art in the day. There were four bedrooms on the upper floor and a large linen closet over the stairway in the hall.  Each bedroom had a closet in the corner with a sloping ceiling.  The rooms had full 8’ ceilings and maple floors.  The south bedroom was Uncle Dave’s.  It was rather restricted.  The north bedroom was Grandpa Carl’s, also fairly restricted.  The southwest bedroom was occupied by mother and dad and the smaller children.  The northwest bedroom housed the boys of the family.

[Editor note:  The new house held Ole & Esther, 7 children, grandfather Carl, and brother Dave Nelson. Grandfather Nils died in '27 before the house was completed]

The house had a large kitchen, originally with a coal and wood cooking stove.  A range boiler in the corner connected water to the range which produced warm water to the fixtures, provided there was a fire in the range.  A wood box was built along the east basement stairwell.  It had a bin on rollers that could be rolled out to put wood in the stove.  An opening on the opposite side of the stairway wall had a door that allowed passing wood from the wood box to the kitchen from the stairway.  Later, through the Christmas gift from of Uncle Dave, mother received a five-burner kerosene fired Perfection kitchen range.  The range had one giant burner and two normal size cook top burners.  The other two burners were under the waist high oven to the right.  Again, state of the art in its day. [Editor note:  With the loss of the wood stove, Esther wondered how in the world she could regulate the heat.]  This new equipment caused a new problem – no hot water – as the range and the range boiler were removed.  The range boiler was moved to the basement and a circulating coil was installed in the steam heating boiler.  Additionally,  a laundry stove with a water front that could be fired up to heat water in the summer.  A copper water boiler sat on the range to boil clothes.  The new range of course required a fuel supply.  A fifty gallon barrel was buried east of the backdoor steps with a 2” fill pipe to the surface.  (Bob Bennett Sr would keep the barrel full by transferring fuel in 5 gallon buckets.  He had a counter on the back of his truck compartment that he advanced with each bucket fill, much like a baseball umpire’s balls and strikes indicator, except it counted by fives.)  A pipe was installed into the basement below the basement steps with a faucet to fill the glass fuel tank for the stove.  These stoves had cylindrical wicks that had to be trimmed and replaced when they had been burned.  

The laundry was located in the southwest corner of the basement with a floor drain quite deep in the sloping floor.  A “double tub Dexter” wash machine – also a gift from Uncle Dave – had two tubs with agitators in each and a wringer in between.  Two additional tubs for bluing and rinsing were along side the double tubs.

An electric water heater was installed when NSP offered an off peak rate for water heating – 6 cents per kw.  This eliminated the laundry stove circulating coil in the steam boiler and the range boiler storage tank.

The downstairs rooms had 9’ ceilings.  All the downstairs floors were oak, including the kitchen.  The walls were wood lath and sand float plaster finish, except the kitchen and the baths, which had smooth plaster. The kitchen had a built-in ironing board on the west wall, which folded down after opening the door.  An electric outlet was provided high up so as not to interfere with the ironing process.  Mrs. Ortendahl would come and iron.  There was a period when the electric bill got to be $3/mo so in an effort to lower it, a gasoline fired iron was acquired.  This was an iron with a small tank for fuel and a valve for pumping air into the tank and pressurizing the fuel.  The generator had to be heated by opening the valve and allowing raw gasoline to enter a cup below the generator.  The gasoline was ignited and allowed to burn until most of it was consumed, at which time the valve was opened and gasoline would enter the hot generator and become vapor and burn in the burner with a blue flame.  The size of the flame was controlled by the needle valve below the tank.  After a few flare-ups, it was decided the savings too small to justify the hazard.

Esther always dressed the kids in white pants, dresses & shirts for Sunday.  All had to be ironed.  Mrs. Ortendahl was paid $1 for her effort, regardless of the number of hours.  She always apologized for taking the money.  The Ortendahl family, with 5 children, lived in the house now known as the “Hollenbecks”.  The family survived the depression working WPA projects and Mrs. Ortendahl was the prime bread-winner for the family.  For several years, mother and Mrs. Ortendahl would spend several days baking lefse for Christmas.  In this small kitchen, they peeled the potatoes, mixed and rolled with flour and baked them over a wood fired range.  The temperatures in the kitchen became rather warm, but the lefse was “super good”.  Much of it was given away during the Christmas season.

The new house had an entry to the north which had a space for a small ice box on the east wall.  An ice water drain was provided out that wall.  Ice was delivered several times a week by Minnewaska Ice Co. from Glenwood.  An ice purchase book was provided for a fee, and the ice man would punch out the numbers for the ice delivered until it was all punched out – time to purchase another book.  The ice man smoked cigars so it was evident when he was delivering ice.  Ice deliveries were discontinued in late fall through the winter and the north entry, which had no heat, became the cold storage space.  Usually in late fall, dad would buy a hog and a ¼ beef.  It was butchered and stored in a box on the back steps.  It was kept frozen by air temperature.  The meat was cut in chunks and stored unwrapped.  Sometimes a pick ax was needed to separate the chunks. [Editor note:  I remember the north entrance as the room Esther stored her baked goods - conveniently for pilfering grandchildren]

The house was equipped with a central heating system, a one pipe steam system with cast iron radiators in each room.  The boiler was in the basement below the steps.  It was hand-fired with coal from a bin in the basement.  Coal was delivered and shoveled through a coal chute on the east side of the house.  Usually the dray man would water down the coal to keep the dust from infiltrating the basement, however at times coal dust would cover the basement floor – a real mess.  

The kitchen had wall cabinets along the north wall with a high back kitchen sink in the middle with a drain board to the right.  A cast iron radiator under the sink provided heat for the kitchen.  There was running water and a drain – without a slop bucket!  Water pressure was provided by two Myers shallow well pumps located on an elevated concrete platform in the northwest corner of the basement.  In the basement, there were two huge concrete cisterns that went all the way from the west to east along the north basement wall.  The cisterns were as wide as the house 28’ long, by 10’ wide by 8’ deep.  [Editor note:  This is 2240 cubic ft of water – or more than 16000 gallons which would weigh more than 60 tons.  I wonder if these cisterns were ever completely full?].  The inside wall of the cistern was about 10 in from the basement wall.  The south wall of the cistern was poured concrete as was the top, which was about 3’ below the floor joists.  A 30” square opening was provided for access for cleaning and also to shovel snow into the cistern.  The cisterns were dug about 3’ below the basement floor with concrete partitions separating the two.  Rain water was diverted into these cisterns.   

One of the pumps took suction from a shallow well made with a post-hole auger and lined with 6” cement tile.  The well was approximately 24’ deep.  This was to provide water for drinking, toilets etc.  The well proved to be inadequate and was discontinued.  The cisterns also proved not to supply enough water, especially in winter. A small stock tank was purchased and a wood cover and a conductor pipe for discharging the water from the tank to the cistern.  The stock tank was loaded on the store pickup and water hauled from the creamery nearly every Saturday to supply the water necessary.    

The chassis was purchased from Happy Hagstrom, who operated a garage directly across the street from the hardware store.  The body was from another source and was called the “St. Paul cab”.  The cab and the sides of the pickup were one piece, so when it was loaded the doors wouldn’t stay closed.  It had disc wheels – a selling point for its day – and windshield wipers that operated from a track under the visor – and were electrically operated an improvement over the hand-operated wipers of the past.  It had a six cylinder engine that wouldn’t start when the temperatures were in the zero-range.  It had a starter as well as a crank, and we used both mechanisms to try to get to start in cold weather.  In extreme temperatures, we resorted to blow torches on the manifolds and oil pan to get it going.   By 1938, there was municipal water, but in order to keep the plumbing operational in a house with 11 people, water had to be hauled to fill the cisterns. 


Every Saturday, Glenn hauled water from the creamery.  The stock tank had a 2” discharge pope with a gate valve.  The stock tank sat on railroad ties to give clearance.  The water was discharged into the cisterns through a 3” pipe on the west side of the house (as the picture shows).  There was a second pipe on the east side of the house.  The water was very hard.  Chemicals were tried to soften the water, but failed and a water softener was installed.  In the spring water would be hauled from ditches where the culverts had frozen and water had backed up.  For this process, water had to be transferred to the tank by buckets.  Drinking water was carried from the Middent’s residence (kitty-corner across the street). Claude had a deep well with a hand pump off the basement.  

[Editor note:  Photo is Glenn Hoplin driving the Hoplin & Nelson 1930 Chevrolet pickup - probably around 1934 or 1935.  Notice - no houses between the Hoplin residence and the Hagstrom home.] 

This is the second pickup truck I remember.  The first was a Model T with an open cab.   On one occasion, Uncle Dave Nelson was driving with Glenn & Bud as passengers.  The streets had just been graveled and Dave hit a loose patch and Buddy bounced out.  About a block further, I said “We lost Buddy”.  Dave hadn’t noticed, but turned around quickly and found Buddy sitting on a pile of gravel crying.  Dave wondered why I waited a block before saying anything.  Bud wasn’t hurt, just upset because he lost his ride.

... to be continued