Tag Archives: Great Plains History

More Notes on Clell Gannon: 1920s Census and Cultural History

Just pecking out some more notes to add to the texture of the Clell Gannon project, working on revisions with The Digital Press at the University of North Dakota (Grand Forks).

After revisiting Willa Cather’s 1923 (September 5) essay, “NEBRASKA: The End of the First Cycle” in The Nation (117: 236-238), and particularly after reading Cather’s demographic cross section slice of a day in the life of 1923 Nebraska: “On Sunday we could drive to a Norwegian church and listen to a sermon in that language, or a Danish or a Swedish church. We could go to the French Catholic settlement in the next county and hear a sermon in French, or into the Bohemian townschip and hear one in Czech, or we could go to church with the German Lutherans. There were, of course, American [meaning American English] congregations also… I have walked about the streets of Wilber, the county seat of Saline County, for a whole day without hearing a word of English spoken.” And, a couple sentences later, Cather notes that “Our lawmakers have a rooted conviction that a boy can be a better American if he speaks only one language than if he speaks two.”

North Dakota, in the year 1900, also had a diverse immigrant population with a greater percentage of foreign-born than any other state at that time in the Union. I don’t have the percentage number right in front of me. But from memory it is something like 78% foreign born. Prairie Mosaic is the reference I’ll double check to confirm that number, as this provides ethnohistoric ground-truthing, research that took place from the 1960s through the decades following said 1960s.

U.S. Census 1920 bulletin on North Dakota. Page 1.

This returns to Clell, and thinking about the context in which he wrote his Songs of the Bunch Grass Acres, and the reading audience who had want or access to his 1924 Western Americana poems. In 1920, Orin G. Libby’s article, “The Arikara Narrative of the Campaign Against the Hostile Dakotas — June, 1876” ran in North Dakota Historical Collections (Bismarck, North Dakota, Volume 6). Aaron McGaffey Beede collaborated with Libby on this. Beede was the interpretive and translation conduit between the Arikara scouts and Libby. Libby’s approach was one that would speak to Custer-philes, with an angle that may appeal to Custer-philes who may have had a broad brush stroke (see racist) outlook on all of Native America. With Libby popularizing how Arikara fought alongside the U.S. Military in 1876, he was making a pitch (fortified with numerous data points) that demonstrated their patriotism. In 1918, two years before Libby published his Arikara narratives, the Great War ceasefire (armistice) happened. Up to 12,000 Native American soldiers participated in World War I, this at a time when Native Americans still didn’t have the right to vote. The Indian Citizenship Act of 1924 would change all of this, allowing tribal citizens the Federal status of voting. However, the U.S. Constitution still left it up to individual states to decide who had the right to vote. So Libby’s narrative that set down the Arikara memories of the 1876 Battle of Little Bighorn/Greasy Grass would also have spoken to that political activist line of thinking.

So what does all this mean of and for Clell Gannon’s 1924 Songs of the Bunch Grass Acres? I don’t have much more to say beyond the above, other than this is some of the context in which Clell wrote. A multitude of ethnic languages from the immigrant populations could be encountered in the urban and rural of the Great Plains and American West. Tribal citizens were granted another incremental federal right to vote. Libby lobbied on the Arikara behalf through historical memory and narrative. And Clell continued his relationship with the major shapers of the early State Historical Society of North Dakota, making his poetic contribution to the love of northern plains place through said poems.


Clellification for Halloween, 2024

I’m currently working on a project with Bill Caraher who is the pilot of The Digital Press at University of North Dakota. For a year, or beyond a year now, Caraher and I have been thinking about Clell Gannon, and Gannon’s 1924 publication, Songs of the Bunch Grass Acres (SoBGA). I’m working on revisions from a first draft submitted to The Digital Press, and after letting editorial comments sit with me for a while, I have decided to recalibrate a bit of the original narrative. Like it is the case with many texts, the more you read, revisit, and think about SoBGA, the more the text starts speaking to the reader in different ways. The recalibration of the first draft will look something like this:

  1. Clell Gannon intellectually situates (indirectly and directly) his 1924 SoBGA into the current of Romanticism. And not the romanticism that you’re thinking about. Like he’s not poeming (poem is now a verb) the reader to go pick flowers and let your feelings rather than your brain dictate your moment to moment actions. Rather, in the original intellectual vein of Romanticism (which was a counter balance to the, ahem, Enlightenment), he’s saying (I’m paraphrasing here), Hey, this northern plains and Great Plains and Western Americana place we all live in: this place is completely worth living in. And not only is it worth living it, it deserves our contemplation, and this place is deserving of a sustained relationship with us.
  2. Who else did Clell Gannon roll with at this time? He was a mover and shaker. Also one who was a joy to be around. Thoughtful. And nothing that is in his writings, or others who have written about him, suggests he was a chest thumper. He was friends with Russell Reid and George Will (son of Oscar Will and his vegetable seed empire). The same Russell Reid who acted as secretary of the State Historical Society of North Dakota for decades: when it evolved from the basement of one of the buildings on the State Capitol Grounds eventually to the building that today houses the State Library. Clell would likely lose his mind (in a good way) if he saw the geothermal-heated footprint of today’s State Historical Society of North Dakota, and in-motion expansion of the Military Wing.
    • Clell was unable to physically make the requirements to be mustered into World War I. I do wonder what contributions he might suggest for interpretive exhibits in the 21st military wing following the Great War of the 20th century? Might they have read something along the lines of what Willa Cather spoke of in 1922? “…the world broke in two in 1922 or thereabouts…” In 1922, Cather had seen veterans return from the Great War, and as returned veterans, they were told (not even really told) to navigate the ascent of the industrial capitalistic roaring 20s.
  3. In conversations with Shadd Piehl (ahem, recognized poet of the American West, cowboy poet, teacher, listener, encourager of the written and spoken word, and former bronc rider, etc), Piehl noted that Clell reminded him of the poem American Names that Stephen Vincent Benét set down in 1927, or 3 years after publication of SoBGA. So the revisions of this draft will take into greater account a couple other datum points, including Willa Cather and Stephen Vincent Benét.
  4. Clell Gannon’s introduction (very short) of SoBGA is good.
    • In the first paragraph he sets out his flag of love of regional place. Not nationalistic love. But of the regions within this nation: northern plains. Great Plains. American West.
    • The second paragraph is on about poetic structure, meter to be exact, and with a sampling of how a west of the Mississippi River person pronounces “coyote”: say ki’ot, Clell instructs, as two syllables. Don’t get all sophisticated and say “ki’ot’eee.” Don’t do that. Nobody would ever do that. Use two syllables to say coyote, and the meter of the poems will flow.
    • The third paragraph calls out Florence Harriet Davis, librarian in 1924 of what would have been the beautiful Carnegie Library in Bismarck (it was completely razed in the 1970s or 1960s for progress. Poetically, a parking ramp is located there today.). Who is Florence? In a word search in the Library of Congress searchable newspaper database, she surfaces here and there in Bismarck Tribune articles.
    • Clell’s final poem in SoBGA is to Hazel Dell Gannon, who at 17 years old passed away in what Clell describes as Grand Valley, South Dakota. Maybe she was preparing to attend teachers college? Or something? I Google’d Grand Valley, and the closest thing that surfaces is place names in Lincoln County, southeastern South Dakota.
    • Clell signs off on his short introduction with “Bismarck-by-the-river, North Dakota.” Today, in 2024, this is another great reminder to readers to recenter their view of North Dakota’s capital city as one that is a river city as well. Clell understood the importance of the Missouri River to the early history of the region and, eventually, to the state.

Okay, that’s all the Clell-ification I have for the moment. Gotta get after the other items for this Thörsdag, October 31, 2024, Halloween Day (the pumpkins were carved last night).


Teddy Roosevelt on Halloween in Dakota Territory

I’m looking at some of the original Teddy Roosevelt documents this evening from Bismarck, this provided by the glorious Theodore Roosevelt Center at Dickinson State University in western North Dakota. I came across a historical Halloween gem. It is a November 3, 1885 letter of Teddy describing Halloween in the Badlands of western North Dakota. It is accurately titled, “Hallowe’en in the Bad Lands.” I’ll analyze it after this blog post. I want to just transcribe it here because we’re getting close to Halloween in general. So here is for your historical Halloween sense of time and place. Writing from the Badlands of western North Dakota, Roosevelt said (run-on sentences were his style of the times),

While the young people of Bismarck paid me extraordinary attention to the fair Hallowe’en, the cow boys of the Bad Lands favored the stars and gaudy buttes of that land of earthen goblins with a celebration, which for brilliancy and spontaneity surpasses any thing of the kind on record. True there were no maidens to add the feminine charm to the occasion, but the pistol decorated gentlemen of the ranges were equal to every emergency, and that the conventionalism’s of the occasion might be properly observed, a number of the bovine guardians agreed to don the female garb, and while away the early evening hours in waiting for the coming of the sign changing hoodoos. There were no signs to tear down in the Bad Lands, but they could skim the jagged pasture land on their half breed plugs and rip the ambient air up the back with shouts and whoops and leaden balls. The proper hour having arrived, the cowboys on the outside, as representatives of the masculine gender rode up to the ranch and entered, to find that their female impersonators had been faithful and fifteen of their fellow cowboys were seated about the room in skirts and waists and what scraps of ribbons they could gather from their tanks and neighboring ranches. A dance was immediately opened and everything was as pleasant as a Fifth Avenue social, until the whiskey reached its zenith and the hour for shooting had arrived. The cowboy girls seemed to forget the modesty which their positions demanded, and in language of the prairie, “they turned themselves loose.” A general fusillade was indulged in, the meeting adjourning when the lamps were shot to pieces and the narrowed and improvised dresses were obliterated. It is said that had the celebration lasted an hour longer the climax might have a row, but as it is, a few loud words, a parting drink and a desperate attempt to shoot the blinking stars closed the memorable event.


Dakota Language Update

This morning I have returned to selecting one Dakota word to learn, ideally every morning, the idea being to create for myself a type of vocabulary for unpacking more of the US-Dakota Wars. Language is the way in which we perceive and see our world. So by understanding another language, such as Dakota, one can start arriving at new perceptions in the infinite quest of knowledge (we have these brains, so we might as well put them to use).

I am using two dictionaries to accomplish this, and uploading the Dakota word and English definitions to Cobo cards. The dictionaries are Stephen R. Riggs, A Dakota-English Dictionary (first published in 1890; Minnesota Historical Society Press, 1992), and John P. Williamson, An English-Dakota Dictionary (first published in 1902; Minnesota Historical Society Press, 1992).

Like any deliberate language study, I use the English-Dakota dictionary to first locate the word. So if I look up “anxiety,” it takes me to Caŋ-te´-ši-ča. I use the Dakota-English dictionary to unpack the larger Dakota word of Caŋ-te´-ši-ča: large words are, after all, combinations of shorter words. By unpacking the large words, and defining them in the smaller portions, one can start learning the basics and foundations of the language. This, my friends, is a transferrable skill.

Yesterday morning I decided on the word “Anxiety,” and today I picked the word “Hero.” Here is what definitions the dictionaries turned up:

Caŋ-te´-ši-ča = to be sad, sorrowful, or anxious. I need to unpack this word a bit more. I will log some more time on that this evening, or tomorrow morning.

Itaŋ-caŋ-ka = Hero. The breakdown of Itaŋcaŋka, according to Riggs’ dictionary, is along the defined lines of someone who is “fire-steel,” and who is on a, or your, side. Okay. That makes sense. Fire-steel by your side. Here is the breakdown below.

Itaŋ, adv. of taŋ; on the side. From this we get the word mitaŋtaŋhaŋ, which means at my side.

Caŋka, n., a fire-steel.


Living Heritage

Yesterday, September 11, 2014, was a national and international day of observance. It also was the day of my aunt Mavis Barth’s funeral. Molly and I were asked and had the honor and privilege of being pall bearers. Today, September 12, I took off the shelf my copy of Braddock, ND: 1884-1984, a local and celebratory county history published for the city’s 1984 centennial. I did this because, it seems, I have gotten into a pattern of storing family funeral bulletins inside of the appropriate local county histories.

BraddockFor example, within this history of Braddock, I also have funeral bulletins from my late Grandfather David Barth (or “Papa Barth,” as we used to call him), which somehow made it into this book, I’m thinking in 2003, shortly after he passed. His brother‘s bulletin was in there as well. And next to Vivian Barth‘s funeral bulletin (my late Grandma Barth), I placed Mavis’s bulletin. Also within the Braddock local history was the front cover of Volume 60, Number 2 (Spring 1993), of North Dakota History: The Journal of the Northern Plains. I have uploaded the photo here.

The caption of the photo is such:

“Front Cover: Iva Edholm, who lived outside of Braddock, North Dakota, sent this postcard picturing the Braddock train depot to his brother Linus Persson in Sweden. It is postmarked July 21, 1909.”

This photo further interested me because of the Barth family history, at least of the arrival of my family surname in the state of North Dakota. On page 108 of the Braddock history, it says, verbatim,

“David L. (Reny) Barth came out to North Dakota from Cleveland, Ohio on October 22, 1908. Leaving a job with the Ohio-Penn Railroad, he came to learn farming in North Dakota. During the first winter he lived in the back room of the Braddock depot. In the spring he moved to a farm six miles south of Braddock. He worked as a farm hand and as a substitute mail carrier.”

So I am kind of piecing together why that front cover issue of the North Dakota History journal made its way into the Braddock book: my great grandpa Barth spent a winter in the pictured depot. Heritage and history is fun this way, and I always hope that I can think about it a bit more than just when family funerals take place.


Threshing and Historical Fuel Sources

As of late, or at least since 2012, or even earlier, I have been thinking about the history of industrialization on the northern Great Plains. I have been encouraged this evening by reading Bill’s comments here, and also just by thinking about how steamboats were the first vestiges of 19th century industrialization, both locally, as noted in serious scholarship on the upper Missouri River, and globally, as expounded on by Maya Jasanoff at Harvard. Humanity has always needed and searched for energy sources. This has taken the form of wood and coal, which powered the early steam engines. This was all before petroleum was embraced and really took hold as thee major fuel source.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASo when I look at, say, the September 8, 2014 front page issue of The New Rockford Transcript, and I see the “Central North Dakota Steam Threshers Reunion – September 19-21” 2014, I think of the transition by which humanity went from wood to coal. And how we used that coal to increase agricultural efficiency. And also how events like the central North Dakota Steam Threshers Reunion, or the Crosby Threshing Show, or the Braddock Threshing Bee, is and continues to remain central to our history and heritage. The New Rockford Transcript continues to be delivered to the house of my parents, a subscription my late grandmother Barth always enjoyed receiving (between this and the Emmons County Record). Here is that front page, at least the graphic. And if you want to order your own hard copy of The New Rockford Transcript or The Emmons County Record, just click on the previous two links to be directed to the specific contact.


Short Heritage Notes

Just this evening I chatted a bit with Paul, or who I call dad. We found ourselves reflecting a bit, at least why his grandfather (my great grandpa Barth) left railroad work in Cleveland, Ohio to take up a homestead claim just outside of Braddock, North Dakota. This is how one line of our family history goes, at least one of the general narratives.

After a bit of chatting my dad, knowing I am a bit of a bibliophile, produced two books from his late mother’s (my late grandmother’s) library. One of these books was The Joy of Words, published in 1960 by the J.G. Ferguson Publishing Company of Chicago, Illinois. I started flipping through the table of contents and pages, and I arrived at the section called “Historic.” Here, in the opening, on page one hundred eleven, it begins with a quote that seemed to capture the evening conversation I had with my dad:

“The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future.”

I thought I’d float that quote our there, at least since it resonated with me. Perhaps someone else might be able to grab hold of it and use it too.


The Welk Homestead

Miller Welk Painting 1930A couple weeks ago Molly and I, along with my parents, took a Sunday trip to the homestead of Lawrence Welk. To be more specific, this was the homestead of Welk’s parents in rural Emmons County, south-central North Dakota. The homestead is just south of Braddock, North Dakota, the place where my great grandpa Barth established his homestead and family. The Barth’s were Ohio-Germans imbedded within this larger German-Russian migration group.

Earlier this afternoon I stopped by North Dakota State University’s German-Russian Heritage Collection to pick up a Gary P. Miller reproduction print from 1930. It is what today we might call a mash-up: Miller painted Welk and his Hollywood roadster into the Emmons County homestead setting. In an effort to unfurl this print, I placed four of books at the edges. It seemed fitting to deliberately use Plains Folk: North Dakota’s Ethnic History;  Prairie Mosaic: An Ethnic Atlas of Rural North DakotaPrairie Peddlers: The Syrian-Lebanese in North Dakota; and The Quartzite Border: Surveying and Marking the North Dakota-South Dakota Boundary, 1891-1892.

The Welk homestead today is undergoing continued rehabilitation. One can get a guided tour of the original sod homestead, and a couple outbuildings and the summer kitchen. This latter building, the summer kitchen, still speaks to the utilitarian sensibilities often inherent in North Dakotans: the summer kitchen kept the heat out of the otherwise cool sod home in the June, July and August months. It was straight-forward practicality that German-Russians brought with them when they migrated to North America from Odessa, Russia. Within Miller’s 1930 print, the summer kitchen is center-right in the reproduction, and the sod house is just to the left.


Crosby Threshing Show

On July 20, 2014, Molly and I went to the Crosby Threshing Bee in Crosby, Divide County, northwestern North Dakota. Years before my Grandpa Barth passed away, he had always asked me to attend the threshing bee in Braddock, Emmons County, south-central North Dakota. For whatever reason, I never made it to the Braddock threshing bee (and I wish I had). I did go to my Grandpa’s farm with him on numerous occasions, though, sometimes stopping at the small-town local bank in Hazelton, and always stopping for lunch at the local deli/cafe.

So yesterday, while walking around the threshing bee in Crosby, I was continuously reminded of my grandpa. And of the advent of industrial agricultural practices, at least as it looked at the turn of the 19th century. I also thought of the novel history, Big Wheat by Richard Thompson. A year or more ago, Larry Schwartz, librarian at Minnesota State University Moorhead, recommended me this book. It’s good, and it gives the reader an idea of what it was like to be a migratory laborer employed by one of these outfits. In North Dakota, large bonanza farming took place in Cass County at the Dalrymple bonanza farm, and the Chaffee bonanza farm, amongst others. I was catching my historical bearings and thinking of all this while wandering through the Crosby threshing bee with Molly.

Below is a short clip of the tractors, complete with coal-burning stoves, whirring gears, and popping pistons.


The World is a Classroom: Stone Circles and Cairns

I’ve been asked (and privileged) to give a brief, short talk tomorrow in northwestern North Dakota on how to identify stone circles (often called tipi rings) and stone cairns. I will open by chatting about what meaning stone circles and cairns have to my friends, and I’ll probably mention a great friend Dakota Goodhouse, and one of his great-great uncles, Rain-in-the-Face (this is a magnificent attention getter by the way). Unsolicited universal observation: one doesn’t have to be within the halls of the academy or in a college or university to learn and teach. I kind of think of the world as a conversational classroom and lectern. It is only formalized when we’re in said classroom. Okay. That’s all. Carry on.