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An Era to Remember - 1906
to 1916 By Erling Ebbeson After reading the 1964 edition of the Divide County history, I would appreciate the opportunity to, as they say, "put in my 2-cents worth".
My first recollection of North Dakota was a big snowstorm during the winter of 1905-1906. My father (Carl Ebbeson) was on a trip (no L. S. D.) to Noonan after a load of coal and my mother and I were taking care of the shack. We had another hut to shelter a cow and team and my uncle, Haakon Eriksmoen, and Ole Hagen, managed to get over to see how we were doing. Well, the barn was completely snowed under and it took a little engineering to determine just where to dig, but in those days one had to be a little of everything to master the elements. Everything turned out OK. My dad made it back and my mother and I just sat around and toasted marshmallows and watched TV. (Ha!)
My father arrived in this country in 1903 and filed on the NW ¼ Sec. 5 Twp. 163 N. R. 98 W. My mother and I arrived in the summer of 1905. I was three at the time and have no recollections of my trip.
This was Blooming Prairie Township and a fitting name it was with millions of crocuses (Mayflowers), bluebells, buttercups, cactus, and wild roses. The rainfall was in abundance those first years and the prairie grass, with its sharp needles, grew like mad. We always had a haying season in July and that was no picnic with the sun beating down and the flying ants (my mother used to call them that but my father had another name for them) crawling down your sweating neck. That upland hay was probably the best feed that could be found anywhere and put beef on the hoof with a flavor that is hard to duplicate today. The rancher and farmer needed some kind of a break as it was then like it is now. When produce was brought to town, one accepted what was offered and came home with what one could afford to buy at the asking price. Many a load of wheat (60 bushels or so) I hauled to the elevator for 30 cents per bushel. After expenses that wouldn't keep a good Norwegian in coffee very long. Thank goodness, the IRS hadn't come out of the woods yet.
Wildlife, although not in over abundance, was plentiful. There were probably more gophers than anything else. Antelope were seen on several occasions and jack rabbits kept many a homesteader from starving. The sloughs were full of ducks and I'll never forget our bachelor neighbor putting duck eggs in the coffee pot so when the coffee was ready he had hard boiled eggs. He also had another gimmick: I was scared to death of pork, but he would buy some salt pork in brine, and this was supposed to be bear pork. To me, this was the best in the west. Guess it was the way he fried it (crisp). He also baked his own bread in an old drum on the stovepipe. He might have a hard time selling it in a bakery today, but we ate it like mad and asked for more.
The county was full of meadow larks. Prairie chickens could be heard drumming away on a still morning. I was too young to hunt but had an old "Columbia" air rifle with which I got lucky and bagged a gopher now and then. Now the gophers are gone, the Jack has disappeared, and the ducks fly high in the sky.
This was the land of plenty. Plenty of wind, snow, open spaces and plenty far to town. One had to get up before breakfast, as they say, to make it to town the same day, but the old settlers were a tough breed. Then in 1906 the rails came and we were only 2 ½ miles across country from what was to become "The Queen City". I remember the railroad engine with its rail-laying equipment in front coming around the bend thru what we called the "big cut" south from the old William Brown farm. Things now began to look up and Ambrose was on its way. My father managed a hammer and saw and helped construct some of the buildings along Main Street (The Strip). This was the end of the Soo Line for some years and was the main shopping center for the area into Montana and Canada. Most of the business places are amply described in the 1964 edition and it's hard to believe this was taking place 65 short years ago.
The 4th of July was the day of the year. The City band with 30 plus members played from a special band stand in the center of the street. Fireworks and firecrackers as long as your arm were common, and the local clowns, "Who’s your tailor?" Bob Hudson and Martin Eide kept the crowd in stitches. Mr. Stivers catered to the small fry with his penny candy, pop, and noise-makers. For a nickel, and a penny for punk, we kept busy for an hour or two. There was always a traveling circus, and the parade, with people lining the wooden sidewalks, was something to see. Then in the afternoon was the big ball game with Crosby. It was said Crosby had three teams: One playing - one coming - one going. Ambrose also stacked the cards a little as one fall they were about $5,000 short of breaking even. I guess most of the American Association players made a trip or two to North Dakota in those days. I remember Lefty Donaldson coming to pitch more than once. We also had a few local boys that were pretty hot. Among them were: Hans Larson, John Nelson and Benny Larson. Around the ball park there was a race track where the big boys did their stuff with their Allis Chalmers, Richmond, Case, Velie, American Traveler and other makes. We also had a small Metz with chain and friction drive and a Saxon that was so low that a chalk line in the road could be erased by driving across it.
Among the first business men (so well described in the 1964 History Book) I seem to remember a few more, but that, too, I am sure, is nowhere near complete or accurate.
Also I seem to recall a Mr. Grondvold having a store and eating place on the northwest corner of the Miller intersection. Among other things he sold corn flakes called Egg-O-See. A salesman came in one morning and asked if they had corn flakes and the waitress, a comely young Scandinavian gal, replied, "Eg go see", and so a name was born. Then I'll never forget Mr. Golden and his "Golden's Cafe". I used to deliver a little cream once or twice a week and he had (in my opinion) the best looking waitresses in town - the Erickson girls - Mary, now Mrs. Ben Larson, Fergus Falls, Minnesota and Helen, now Mrs. Julius Erickson of Buxton, North Dakota. Of course they called me their "Gut" (Norwegian for boy). Mrs. John Nelson was another of my favorite customers, saving me the Minneapolis Sunday Journal with Happy Hooligan, The Katzenjammer Kids and Hawkshaw the Detective. There was also another business north of the tracks where the men used to go and get three quarts for a dollar. This man was the kids' friend as he bought all our empty beer bottles.
In the early days we probably didn't have much to do, but what we did, we did well. My dad built the old sod house with walls two feet thick. He hauled lumber for the roof and ceiling from Estevan and papered, plastered and kalsomined the inside. I can still hear the gophers making hey-hey in the attic. My first school was approximately ½ mile west from the old Black farm and I used to take off across the prairie with my trusty Union Leader box in my hand or strapped around my neck. This was the start of a career that has had both ups and downs. Later, when the school was moved to the Ole Hagen land, the teacher was Mrs. Rud Anderson. We stayed at the school house all week during the cold weather. I remember one winter there were seven of us kinds. Mrs. Anderson had two (Lorraine and Walter), Thelma, Lloyd, Luella and Milo Gubrud and myself. Some gang! The country schools soon went the way of the flesh and I finished my grades in Ambrose. Big class of 1916 - M. G. Schultz, Lloyd Gubrud and yours truly. All still up and around. I wish the 1970 A. H. S. reunion could have gone farther back, but it was set up from 1920. I could name so many I used to go to school with.
We were bent on adventures in those days too. I recall in ‘14 or ‘15 we “borrowed” the section boss's hand car (seven of us) and pumped our way to Crosby to see “The Birth of a Nation”. What a night! It was during the winter and probably 10 below. The theatre in Crosby was, at that time, close to where the Crystal Cafe was the last time I was there. I skipped school a couple of times to hunt rabbits and spent ½ hour each night after school for a month. We had our gangs and secret meetings and passwords but can't really say to this day what it was all about. I think it was more to keep the girls in suspense as shortly afterwards they began to have secret signals and what have you.
Around 1912-1913 or so the telephone made its appearance on the farm. I remember how beautiful I thought those blue-green insulators were on top of the poles. Reminded me of a flower. Now we had something to do during the long winter days. Sit with the receiver on our ears and pick up all the news plus a little scandal. The most important thing was to catch the temperature early in the morning. We had one neighbor and I can't to this day understand why it was always 20 degrees colder on his back porch than on anyone else's. His father was probably an old fisherman.
About the same time the electric light was introduced to Ambrose. The light plant was in the alley behind the theatre with its steady chug-chug. The lights were a little on the dull side and wouldn't have been much good in separating fly specks from pepper but were certainly a far cry from the old wick lamp. Most of the stores started with the old gas mantle and used white gasoline for fuel. We had a single lamp on the farm and it was my job to pump up the base every night.
Along with the railroad came the heavy equipment - steamers and threshers. There were several makes, among them: Advance, Avery, Buffalo Pits, Gar Scott, Red River Special, and others. Matt Thome was one of the big threshers with 16 bundle teams and 4 spikies. When he moved onto your place it didn't take long. Well, one fall it was different. It was Saturday night and he was finishing at Jim Stewart's before moving onto our farm. It got dark before they were finished so decided to move the last four bundle loads along to our place and run them thru in the morning. During the night it started to rain and it didn't let up for three weeks. What a mess in our yard! Stewart was obliged to feed the teams but the mess was ours. The men just ate in the cook car and played poker day and night. That was one time my folks were glad to see company leave.
Another time I remember was Bill Chapman threshing on his home place one mile west from our place and his return flue (smoke stack at the back of engine instead of in front) steamers set fire to the prairie. It was headed our way, but lucky for us, my uncle, Edwin Eriksmoen, was out with a team and plow and came dashing over to plow a furrow around our buildings which prevented a major disaster.
I best remember Hans Gulbrandson from the time he pulled onto the quarter north from our place to do some breaking. He had a huge outfit with steam activated plows and it must have weighed tons. He managed to find a mud hole and, as I was raking hay close by with a dump rake, I was asked to haul a lot of hay over by the engine. Don't know just how they got out, but it wasn't for a couple of days. If anybody should happen to dig there today they would find, I am sure, a good supply of Rocky hay.
In the early days people were much more friendly than today. At Christmas time there was a big party every other day for two weeks or more with the best food that could be found. The kids played, the women cooked, washed dishes and talked, and the men sipped on “headlights” and looked at their hole-card until it was time to go home and milk bossy in the morning.
I would like to mention a few of our early neighbors before I leave you. From our place, starting north and working clockwise, I will try and do the best I know how. There may be some bad spelling but probably nobody is around today that can dispute that. First, W. A. Fenton, H. H. Lohmeyer, L. M. Gubrud, Jim Stewart, C. O. Alcock, Alfred Johnson, A. K. Gubrud, Ed Huso, Frank Solors, Torn Huso, the Spar Place, Peter Gjovig, Peder O. Hagen, Murfitt, Ashley, Josie Burreson, Haakon Eriksmoen, Edwin Eriksmoen, Ole Hagen, William Brown, Rud Anderson, V. L. Gilbert, Sven Susag, Ole Sims, the Hennings, Mrs. Bartness, Halvor Aslakson, Halvor Rue, Rasmus Aalund, Lena Slyngstag, Hans Haugland, Jacob Linstad, and Charles Murphy.
Swinging north from Ambrose were: Bailard, Arnold, Chapman, Geo. Ells, Carl Iverson, Guirnon, Ben Johnson, Martin Windfaldet and his neighbor, Solset. The Gulmon place was occupied by several different families; among them were the Lobdells, the Geo. Geotz family, the Charles Burnside family and the last, Charles Nance. If someone has been left out it's just my poor brain giving up.
I have to mention a little about the Charles Murphy’s. They lived across the road on the south side from Krist Toreson. They had a girl (Beatrice) and a boy (Leon) about my age and even though they spika no Norsk, and I no English, we got along very well. They had a couple of saddle horses and I learned to ride almost before I could walk. The Murphy’s were good patrons at Miller's Opera House and I was taken along several times. Maybe I just wouldn't go home so they took me along in self defense. Anyway, I got to see some traveling stock shows and I can still see them shooting each other on the stage. Those trips were made in an old lumber wagon. We have come a long way from that to the moon rocket.
In 1910 my sister Pearl was born in the old sod house. I almost finished her off the following summer. I was supposed to entertain her in her folding highchair with small wheels. Well, it was hot during the afternoon and we had a young calf about a month old. I got the bright idea I could hitch it to the highchair and we could have a ride. Luckily for all of us, I took my sister out of the chair before the hook-up. No sooner done that than the calf was away with the chair and me after. There wasn't much left of the chair after a block but the calf kept going and I chased it almost a mile and don't tell me it can't be done. I ran a calf to death. We never did get another highchair and Ben Hur was nipped in the bud, or more precisely, in the butt.
In March 1916 another sister was born. She lived to become about 1 year old. My mother passed away during childbirth. Her stay on this earth was short but at least she lived until the end of my story. Were she alive today she could add a lot, I am sure. Shortly after my mother's death my father returned to Norway where he married my mother's sister, a widow with one son, Ole Grottodden of Moorhead, Minnesota. A second son, Gordon, was born in January, 1920, now residing in Campbell, Missouri.
My father passed away in 1956 and my stepmother in 1961.
After 1916 Ambrose was on the skids and never did recover from the big fire and the railroad moving to Whitetail, Montana.
My tale is also entering a new era that is still remembered by many, but I will not go into that. So, with all their tragedies, heartaches and humor, I leave behind, but not forgotten, "My memorable first 10 years".
Erling Ebbeson, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Ambrose history
taken from pages 53-55 of the
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