Christmas

We all have our own memories of Christmases past - those special holidays with family and friends while growing up. There are so many of those memories going through my head right now, I don't even know where to begin. So, how bout Christmas Eve?

In New Leipzig, Christmas Eve could be cold, very cold - after all, it was North Dakota don'tcha know. Sometimes we'd get snow. Other times not. Not so different from a lot of places around the world. But, for us, Christmas Eve in New Leipzig was our world.

Growing up in this small community on the prairie of North Dakota meant a lot of preparation in the weeks prior to Christmas Eve. Every church in town had its youngsters prepping for "the program" - arguably the most important event of the year for many of them. Memorizing "pieces", practicing singing Christmas carols, doing everything according to "plan", admiring the gigantic Christmas tree in the front corner of the church sometimes off to the right, sometimes off to the left - it all depended on whether or not the piano or the organ was going to be obscured.

In homes all around town, decorations would go up both inside and outside. Contests were held to see who could do the best decorations.

Inside the home, it was much more private. In our home, Mom went all out most times. The living room was a statement in festivity. Stringers hanging from the lights, ornaments everywhere (not just on the tree). Favorite and sentimental baubles came out for the first time all year.

But, the tree. The tree had to be bought. We couldn't just go out into the forest and cut down our own tree. It was either that, or an artificial tree. Our home didn't see artificial trees until we were more grown up. Some of those artificial trees were pretty gawd awful thinking back on it. Even some of the real trees that Mom decided needed to be "flocked" - oh, the trends of the times.

Anticipating Christmas Eve was an adventure in and of itself. Decorations were up, gifts were under the tree except for those coming from Santa.

We'd all pile into the car ready and eager to get the church program over with to be able to get back home. That's when Dad "forgot" something inside the house. Seemed like every single year in memory, Dad would "forget" something inside the house and tell us to stay in the car - that he'd be right back out. And, sure enough, a few minutes later he'd show up, get in the car, and we'd be off to church.

The program would invariably go off without a hitch. All the kids would get up and recite their own pieces in front of a packed congregation, and most would get through them in spite of their stage fright and jitters. I still picture in my mind's eye the bright lights dimming to show off the Christmas tree. There would be a silence in the congregation as everyone contemplated just what the Christmas season and message meant to them. The whole thing ended with the congregation singing Silent Night.

Then it was over. As we filed out we were each given a paper bag. It contained peanuts, an orange, a little bit of candy, and maybe even something else - a small gift, but treasured none-the-less.

Back home once again, we'd be amazed at Santa's timing. Wow! How'd he know we'd be at the church and be able to fit everyone in town into his scheduled stop? Guy was awesome!

Most all of those Christmas Eves were spent together with the Rieger clan. We'd wait for them to arrive before opening any of our gifts, and after that was done and we had enough time to digest what we'd just gotten, we'd head out to the farm to share in their Christmas joy.

Boy, when I think back on it, it must have been really hard for Gail, Bonnie, Clyde, and Fonda to have to wait for us to get done with our gift opening knowing they had their own to get to 12 miles away from there.

And then it was over. The gifts were opened. The wrapping paper was cleaned up. Well, sort of anyway. And we were off to the farm where everything was repeated for the Riegers.

By the time we got home, us kids would be pretty much tuckered out. Our family tradition was to open gifts on Christmas Eve instead of on Christmas morning. I don't know how many other families did that in our town, but I'm sure some waited. But we knew we didn't have to get up bright and early to open gifts from Santa because he'd already come the night before while we were at church. Oh, wait....was that a conspiracy our parents concocted so as to be able to sleep in on Christmas morning? Didn't matter - they got woke up anyway because we were downstairs busy making as much noise as we possible could playing with our new toys.

Christmas Day was rotated amongst and between families every year, and I gotta tell you we had a LOT of families to rotate with. So, it was always a feast of unbelievable proportions. Of course, we could all eat a whole lot more then than we can now, so the meal was prepared, everyone sat around multiple tables and filled our faces until we couldn't stuff any more in.

In our younger years, we (the kids) would then adjourn to play with each other's toys. In our older, teen years we'd adjourn to watch football or ask for the keys to the car and go driving around wasting gas.

Sometimes, when Christmas was at the farm, we'd go ice skating on the creek down below the house. It'd be so cold, our toes would feel frozen before we'd come in to warm up. That's when the home-made ice cream came out. And that must be where I got my love of ice cream. Katherine tells people I can eat ice cream while sitting in a snow bank and still enjoy it, and she's right. I LOVE ice cream, especially topped with homemade chokecherry syrup.

On those cold, very crisp Christmas Day nights when it was finally time to go home, the thing I remember is how crisp the air was, how the moonlight sparkled on the unspoiled snow, how that snow crunched underfoot as we made our way back out to the car that Dad had started to let it warm up before leaving, and how silent it was - so very, very quiet.

Regardless of how much fun we have about North Dakota, its treeless plains, it's rolling hills, its biting, stinging cold, its blizzards, and its desolation (to some), these are some of the warmest memories I have of a wonderful childhood with family and friends.

Merry Christmas everyone! And, a very happy New Year, as well!

Ft. Sauerkraut, Part 4: Northern Indians Come to Rescue; Raber Holds His Scalp

In this last of a series of four parts to this story I hope the message becomes clear: Although limited by existing technology, the settlers in the Hebron area were still beset by fear and paranoia surrounding what ultimately turned out to be a false alarm. The fact that flames were fueled by rumor and false information, rampant racism and lack of cultural knowledge, and ultimately the fear and paranoia that go hand in hand with all of this really shouldn't be lost on any of us. After all, isn't that something we still face all too often even today?

The "moral" of this story, however, should also include the fact the settlers and the Northern Indians had much more in common than they actually thought. With a little camaraderie and reaching out to each other, these two protagonists "learned" this fact.

Northern Indians Come to Rescue; 

Raber Holds His Scalp

During the following intense days men rode about on the hills on the watch for Indians. All eyes were turned to the south and east as it was supposed that they would come from that direction.

One day somebody happened to notice a peculiar looking cavalcade in a cloud of dust advancing from the north. Some at first thought, judging by the numbers, it must be a company of soldiers coming on horseback; yet, it seemed strange that so many soldiers should come unannounced. Word of this sight was quickly passed along and many people gathered at the fort hill and elsewhere to see who their rescuers could be, when suddenly some outrider hastening back reported that they were all Indians coming straight this way. There was a flurry and rush for safety as the people fled to the shelter of the fort walls to await the expected attack.

But as the Indians came steadily nearer Swen Swenson, who knew something of their ways, observed that they all had their feathers set in a way to indicate peace. This tended to abate the fright of some but others had their doubts.

At last the Indians came to a halt at a respectful distance and made signs for a parley. A few who could speak a little of the white man's language advanced to meet some of the most courageous who went out from the fort to parley with them. The Indians assured the people here that they meant no harm, but had come to help them fight the Sioux who were supposed to be coming. They were from the Ft. Berthold reservation where they had heard of the outbreak from Standing Rock. The latter Indians had been ancient enemies of the Ft. Berthold Indians. They, too, feared that if Sitting Bull was leading a large army of warriors to Canada, he would probably pass through their reservation and attempt to force them to join him, or else make short work of them on account of their inferior numbers. They had concluded in a council to come to Hebron and join the white men here and make a common defense with them.

The people were glad to hear this, although some of them could not overcome their suspicion and fear of treachery. Some even thought that the northern Indians were probably planning on joining the southern Indians and make common cause with them in exterminating the whites. The friendliness of the Indians, some of whom were known here as having traded at local stores, gradually overcame most of the suspicion on the part of the people here, and they mingled freely among them. They examined the fort with curiosity and by signs tried to make themselves sociably understood.

One of the Indians, named Sitting Crow, standing in the midst of some workmen was asked how the Indians scalped people. Not being able to explain in words, proceeded to demonstrate by motions, and drawing his knife, with a few jumps and horrible grimaces suddenly seized George Raber by the hair and passing the butt of his knife around his scalp with a dexterous movement of the hand showed the bystanders how it was done.

Raber, not expecting or understanding it, was so frightened that he nearly fainted away and on recovering from his astonishment felt around on his head to see if his scalp was still on, to the great amusement of the spectators.

After some days word was received that there was no immediate danger of attack by the southern Indians. Gradually the people returned to their homes; although many remained in town for some time after that or came back to town at night.

When the Kindsvogels returned to their home which they had so hastily left they found that the pigs had smelled the buried sausages and had rooted them all out and feasted on them. They had uncovered all the meat and were dragging it about the yard.

Wm. A. Davis had been herding sheep out about where the Urban ranch now is. He was alone and knew nothing of the Indian scare until someone told him after it was all over. However, he could not refrain from thinking about his possible danger and was more on the alert after that.

One day he saw a dark feathered object on the crest of a hill that seemed to move. It looked to him as though it were an Indian looking over the valley. It turned out to be a large eagle as he saw it fly away. There were numerous eagle catching holes on the hilltops out there in those days.

A few weeks later Fer. Leutz wet to Dillon, Mont., where he purchased 2500 sheep. These were driven overland to Whitehall where they were loaded in cars and shipped out here. As the train passed through the western part of this state and the Bad Lands many men were seen patrolling the railroad tracks armed with rifles. They said they were on duty to guard the railroad property from possible Indian depredations.

In the meantime the little band of Indians who by leaving their camp at the Standing Rock reservation had brought about the exaggerated reports of their outbreak, had gone southwest to join the camp of Chief Big Foot on the Cheyenne River. Big Foot had resolved on going back to the shelter of the Black Hills rather than parish (sic) by starvation on the reservation.

On a cold December day he and his little band of 375 men, women and children met a party of soldiers at Wounded Knee Creek near the present Interior, S.D. The soldiers told them they would escort them to the reservation where they would be given food. The Indians lined up and surrendered their rifles, whereupon the soldiers surrounded the band and began to shoot into them. In their enthusiasm to make "good Indians" they shot a number of themselves in the cross fire.

When the shooting was over the dead Indians lay in windrows, the soldiers in the American uniform were finishing the work with the bayonet on the women and children. It was the 7th Cavalry that did this work. They had been near Custer's battle fourteen years before and wanted a chance for revenge. Such school books as mention this episode at all refer to it as the "battle" of Wounded Knee.

After this great victory was reported the people in and about Hebron felt more secure in their homes. The fort was abandoned and in the course of time became jocularly known as Ft. Sauerkraut. It was so named in after years, according to one version, because Charles Krauth, not being accustomed to manual labor, is supposed to have made the remark, "Die Arbeit Kommt so sauer"; while the other is that is was a characteristic name for a German product. It stood for years as a grim testimonial of the days of the Indian scare, but after George and Louis Kohne acquired the land they threw down the walls in order to utilize the land. and years afterward Otto Schlenvogt leveled it off still more.

And so ends this particular tale of Ft. Sauerkraut. 

Memorial Plaque:



There are many "hits" on Google if anyone would care to learn more about Ft. Sauerkraut. The photo above was taken from a blog I found just by typing in the words, "Ft. Sauerkraut" in the web browser.

Ft. Sauerkraut, Part 3: Frightened Men Build Fort, Scouts Watch From Hilltops

Part of the reason I'm doing this story is because Hebron is located in my "area" of the country. Grant County, home of New Leipzig, abuts Morton County, home of Hebron. This photo is of Main Street (taken from the Hebron web page - link provided below the photo) in Hebron in 1910, the same year New Leipzig was established:

More photos and information on Hebron can be found here.

In all the time I lived in New Leipzig, I'd never even heard of Ft. Sauerkraut. In fact, I can remember only two times ever visiting the community of Hebron in any capacity.

One was with my Dad to pick up some bricks from the brick factory there. He intended to build a trash burner in our back yard (yes, at that time it was still legal to do so), and the only place he knew of to get them was Hebron. Prior to that, he'd used a metal barrel/oil drum to burn most of the trash. When the barrel got full, we'd empty it into the small trailer Dad had and haul it out to the town dump west and north of town. I remember Dad complaining about having to take less than half loads to the dump because the barrel wouldn't hold that much. That's why he made the enclosure out of brick. Lots bigger - lots more shoveling to clean it out. But we had full loads now and longer in between trips to the dump. Fun.

The second time in Hebron was when I was a freshman in high school. Our basketball team was undefeated. The Hebron Brickmakers were supposed to be a so-so team. Our guys (I was a benchwarmer for the varsity) weren't even cocky going into the game. In fact, I'd have to say most of them were pretty blase' about this particular game. Maybe that wasn't the best attitude to have because it turned into a real barn-burner, and we came away with our first defeat of the season. I believe it was by one point.

Long story short, Hebron wasn't a planned destination for us. When the Interstate went in, Hebron (and a few other smallish communities along the route) was bypassed and left in a more remote situation than previously. If I remember right, Old Highway 10 went through every one of them. The Interstate didn't do that. Richardton was the only one that I remember being left right on the thoroughfare.

So, when I "discovered" the story of Ft. Sauerkraut, I was fascinated. My kids in 8th grade social studies were, too.

Here's part 3 of this story:

Frightened Men Build Fort, Scouts Watch From Hilltops

All night long people continued coming into town and as the news of the Indian outbreak spread from settler to settler the panic grew, so that at daybreak nearly the entire farm population was a moving caravan hastening toward town as fast as they were able to go. Fred Schweigert, sleeping in his shoemaker shop, was aroused from sleep at about midnight and was told to get his pony and as quickly as possible ride out and notify the people in the south. He did so, going out in the neighborhood of Vetters and Kindsvogels and rode hard all night. At each place he told them in turn to arouse other neighbors farther on. By morning he was so tired that he had to go back and sleep, Indians or no Indians.

In town everything was found astir. Charles Krauth was busy among the refugees exhorting them to prepare for immediate defense. Soon he and Burkhardt had a large body of men at work on the cemetery hill hastily throwing up fortifications.

They outlined the walls of a fort to be built around the top of the hill. Its contour was somewhat elliptical, extending something over 100 yards in its north and south diameter and embraced about half a city block in area. The ground was dry and hard but the men worked with the energy of despair. Ox teams were set to work plowing for the trenches, men with spades and shovels threw up the embankments; and other teams were kept busy plowing up sod with which to lay up the walls, for there was no other materials available. Most of the men had become familiar with the art of laying up sod walls for houses by this time so rapid progress was made. The plan of the fort provided for a deep trench on the outside of the wall; and another trench not so deep on the inside. The wall itself was made about three feet thick and at suitable places and distances port holes were provided so the defenders could shoot out without being much exposed. Inside the fort and near the center of the space was constructed a shelter building with sod walls and railroad ties for a roof. This was about 100 feet long, extending north and south, with an entrance at the south end. This was intended to shelter the women and children. The entrance to the fort was through a winding and fortified passage near the south east part.

There was little time for rest that first day, and the activities on that hill were as busy as any even observed on an ant hill. Practically all the people from the Haymarsh came and helped. Wehris, Brauns, Nagels and others worked with spirit. Fred Kinnischtzke, who had served as an officer in the Franco-Prussian War, was by common consent chosen as commander in chief of the fort. Rev. Debus stoutheartedly stood with his people and helped with the work. From the Heart River country in the south and the Knife River in the north people came. Everybody brought their guns along, and those who had no arms were provided after they arrived. A requisition was sent to Ft. Lincoln for a supply of rifles and ammunition, while men were busy at Fruehaufs moulding bullets. The women were busy preparing their meager victuals for a siege.

As no Indians showed up during the day, the men became bolder and decided on sending out scouting parties to see where the Indians were. Among the scouts were Peter Treiber, Emil Kindsvogel and Herman Mees. In scouting the country they went as far south as the Heart River but failed to find any trace of hostile savages.

Scouting parties were posted on the high hills far to the south and east who were to watch day and night for the coming of the Indians. A large quantity of straw and combustibles was piled up on top of Heart Butte, and at the first sight of the Indians this was to be fired as a signal. It is said that none of the men would sleep up there on account of the numerous rattle snakes that were then there.

During the day some of the party ranged down as far as the Cannon Ball looking for signs of the Indians. After a few days their provisions ran out; there was no a settler at home where food could be obtained. They had been given the strictest orders not to fire a gun but in their necessity they at last had to shoot and roast a rabbit for food.

When the women went to Bismarck Ole Tollefson went with them and from his vantage point continued to send up messages exhorting the people here to keep up their spirits.

After the first couple of days in town the activities at the fort waned some. The walls were already about eight feet high on the outside, most of the trench digging had been done and the work of finishing did not require so many teams. It is said that Urban and Funk were the only ones who had horses working on that job, the rest being all oxen. Some people who lived close by returned to their homes during the day to look after things, returning to the safety of town again at night. When the supply of army rifles arrived from Ft. Lincoln it was found that some were defective and lacking in parts so many were not serviceable.

At night the weary people slept on the floor of the church and school where they were packed together like sardines in a can, for every house, barn and shed was crowded. The scanty meals of most of them were prepared over little fires made in improvised ovens of sod or stone out in the open air.

Ferd. Leutz had been during all this time at his Hidden Wood ranch, near the present town of Zap, where C. F. Ewald was foreman. When they heard about the Indians coming they hastened in and arrived as the fort was about finished.

They suggested that at proper intervals railroad ties be set in the ground around it on which barb wire was securely fastened and in a short time a formidable barrier fence was built all around it, while farther out short posts were set in the ground at irregular intervals and directions from which barb wires were also strung a few inches above the ground. The purpose of this was to trip up the horses in case the Indians attempted to rush the hill. Water barrels were brought up and filled and everything made ready for immediate use as soon as the Indians should come.

It was not thought probable that they would be besieged any great length of time, for just as soon as the Indians came word would be wired to Ft. Lincoln where soldiers would be in readiness to come to the rescue at once.

The main object and purpose of the fort was to have a secure place where the people could defend themselves from a furious assault of probably not more than a day or two duration and until the soldiers could get here.

In the afternoon of November 18 Peter Kastner arrived in Hebron from his former home in Russia. As he alighted from the train he wondered at the great crowd of people in town. They told him that a great army of Indians was coming to attack the town and that a fort had just been finished on the hill. He finally found Franz Berger in the crowd, recognizing him at once as a countryman from his old home town, so he got some comfort in his strange surroundings that day.

This ends part 3 of this historical story.

Ft. Sauerkraut, Part 2: Indians Reported on War Path; Frightened Settlers Flee to Town

Again, taken verbatim from a history of Morton County, ND, but do not know the name of the actual tome.

How do you say Hebron? We always said it as Hee (long e) bron (o sounds like u). The "biblical" pronunciation isn't the same from what I've heard.

Anyway, here's Part 2 of this story:

Indians Reported on War Path; Frightened Settlers Flee to Town

Coincident with the wave of religious enthusiasm or Messiah craze of the Indians there developed some dissatisfactions of a more practical nature. The Indians were getting hungry; and they knew not where to get food or clothing for the approaching winter. For years the government had pursued the policy of Gen. Sheridan who said, "the only good Indian is a dead Indian."

It took the schooled West Pointers who had conquered Lee and the southerners in four years, twenty years to overcome the able Indian strategists of the west who fought for their country as valiantly as any patriot who ever tried to keep the invader from his homeland. But little remained of the high spirit and cheerful independence which marked the Indians upon whom the first comers are said to have fallen as soon as was convenient after falling upon their knees and giving thanks for coming into the inheritance of the red man's land.

By force of numbers and superior arms the government at last succeeded in making "good Indians" of most of them, and the rest were herded into concentration camps called Reservations. Their country and hunting range was taken from them and to which they were forbidden to return. The government shamefully failed to fulfill its treaty obligations to provide for their maintenance on these reservations.

Incompetence, corruption and graft pervaded the entire Indian management. Agencies and appointments as post trader were choice political plums that went to those who had the price or the pull. Food, cattle, clothing etc., that should have gone to the Indians was sold privately and falsely reported as having been delivered.

The newspaper publicity following the Messiah dances focused some attention to the situation. The guilty and fearful officials becoming alarmed attempted to shift the blame by calling for soldiers saying the Indians were getting unruly. As the soldiers were hastened to the reservations to prevent "outbreaks" the Indians became alarmed, too, and some fled west. They were strictly watched, had to answer frequent roll calls and were forbidden to exercise their religion. In the meantime their food was getting less every day and nothing was done to relieve them. At last about the middle of November 1890 a company of half starved Indians left their camp on the Standing Rock Reservation.

As soon as this was discovered, word was sent out in all directions that the Indians had broken out. Post riders and messengers spread the news. It was telegraphed far and wide that the Indians had gone on the war path and were about to massacre all the settlers in the whole country.

The people in and around Hebron had heard some of the rumblings of the Indian excitement for some weeks, but they had no definite knowledge of what it was all about. The more the reports were repeated the more alarming they became. Every time a train came from the east a small crowd gathered at the depot to hear the latest from the train crew or passengers and their reports never felt short of what was thought appropriate, for most of the people here got their first ideas of Indian warfare from German story books in the old country. They had already been worked up to a tense feeling when suddenly about November 15 telegraph messages were sent to all the stations along the line informing the people that the Indians, bent on mischief, had broken out; that everybody should be on guard and hasten to defend themselves against attack.

Many were already in the right frame of mind to go into a panic, and this they proceeded to do at once. All ordinary work was suspended, people hurriedly talked about what was best to be done. Many women and children were hustled off on the first trains to Bismarck where they could be safe across the Missouri.

Young men were dispatched on horseback to ride out across the prairie and they, like Paul Revere of old, rode through the night spreading the alarm to every homestead, ranch and farm. People aroused from their slumbers hastily gathered a few belongings and with galloping oxen hurried towards town with their families.

Housewives gathered up their blankets and feather ticks, a few pots and pans and such food as they had on hand and throwing everything hurriedly into the wagon hastened away with their families. Bread dough was thrown into a pillow slip and brought along to be baked later. Poultry, pigs and livestock were released to shift for themselves. Wagons carrying women, children, the sick and the aged, besides a miscellaneous baggage, including sometimes a few ducks, geese, or other poultry, rattled and clattered over the rough prairie as they sped through the night fleeing from their homes to a refuge in town.

And as they went they turned fearful glances backwards to see if their homes were not already in flames, or perhaps get a glimpse of a painted savage about to overtake and scalp them. They traveled so fast that in some instances much of the baggage was strewn along the way.

Christ Salzer was then living southwest of the Birkmaier place. After the messenger came he quickly loaded his wife and child in the back of his wagon and made to town. There were no highways in those days and as the galloping beasts went through the darkness over creeks and badger holes he failed to notice that his family had bounced off, until he had gotten part way in, so he had to tun about and go back in search of them.

The Urban family east of town was aroused at midnight and soon Geo. H. Funk came running over in the greatest distress saying that all his horses were out on the prairie, that he had no way to catch any quickly and wanted to get one of theirs. They were all badly frightened, but Mrs. Urban said they should put their trust in the Lord and all would go well.

Kindsvogels had just done their fall butchering and had made a lot of sausage but not having time to take the meat along, they quickly wrapped it up and buried it hoping to recover it later. Finding no other way to get to town quickly, Mrs. John E. Haven and Mrs. Marshall walked in from the present Ketterling place.

While the alarm was being spread the people in town lost no time in making preparations for defense. By this time it was rumored that there were no less than six thousand painted and mounted warriors led by Sitting Bull on their way to massacre, scalp and burn as the Sioux had once done in Minnesota, that it was very probable that Sitting Bull would lead them to Canada as he had done once before, that Hebron lay in the exact center of their path, and that they could be expected at any moment.

Charles Krauth had been a soldier in the old country, and Louis Burkhardt had had considerable experience as a veteran in former Indian campaigns. They decided at once to fortify a place where the people might take shelter and defend themselves against attack. They rode horseback on all the hills around near town to look for the best place to build a fort and finally chose the hill northwest of town on the slope of which the cemetery is now located.

This ends Part 2 of this historical story.

In the image that follows, Ft. Sauerkraut is located almost dead center in this Google Earth image. It's the long building within the teardrop shaped road around it. 

Ft. Sauerkraut, Part 1: Ghost Dancing Among the Indians; Schweigert Awake While Others Nap

I do not know who authored the following. Again, it was taken verbatim from a book on the history of Morton County, North Dakota. If anyone knows of this tome, what it might be called, and where it could be accessed, please let me know. I'd like to give full attribution to this story.

Ghost Dancing Among the Indians; Schweigert Awake While Others Nap

The winter of 1889-90 passed without any particular change in the community life. One night, Tom Callahan and another from over south of Antelope became quite loaded up at one of the saloons and they left to go home becoming involved in a snow drift in the creek on the south edge of town and tipped over. They lay in the creek all night and the next morning they came back with faces and hands frozen a little, but after getting some more whiskey under their belts they made another start for home with better success.

By this time it had become quite a common custom for quite a number of people to get their coal supply from the railroad company's bin. One night as Murray was going home from the depot he came across an old timer getting railroad coal from the chute.

He stopped and gave him some wholesome talk about his responsibilities as agent to see that railroad property was protected. The man said he was sent over by his employer to get a gunny sack full, but that he would not do it anymore. Murray later suspected that the effect of his lecture was that the man's employer had him choose a little later hour in visiting the N.P. bin.

The Red Lodge coal used by the railroad company always made a black smoke, while ordinary lignite coal made light smoke. They used to cast about town and watch the chimneys and observe from which the black smoke issued for some had rather dark looking smoke coming out. There was dire poverty among some of the people and it is said that during this winter some men actually walked to New Salem and carried back a sack of potatoes on their backs.

A new saloon was built by Burt Cohen, said to have been an English Jew. It was located in the street between where the Columbia Hotel and Ewald Store building now stand. This building was later moved to near the alley close to the rear of the present Urban store to be closer to the center of business.

The W. Bratzel family moved from their homestead to town and purchased a small building of Leutz and Kisso that stood just north of the present Buelow house and occupied this for a residence, while he worked for Leutz & Krauth on the ranch at $20 per month. One day Bratzel and C.F. Ewald decided to make a trip out to the present Golden Valley country to visit the Wiege ranch and in order to make sure that they could find their way back threw up piles of earth on the way as guiding landmarks.

People in those days who had riding ponies which they wished available when wanted, used to picket them out where they could find plenty of grass. Fred Schweigert had a pony which he used to picket out in that way. Krauth and Leutz also had some horses around but which they did not picket. During the night these horses would wander around and look for company and coming to Schweigert's pony would sociably eat up all the grass around the picket and only move farther away after all the grass was eaten, while Schweigert's horse could not move farther away and often fell short of feed. One day Schweigert went to Krauth & Leutz and told them that he had bought a rope from them to picket his horse and he wished them to picket their horses, too; that it was necessary for him to picket his to prevent it from wandering away too far. They gave Schweigert the horse laugh saying this was a free country and they did not have to picket theirs; suggesting that he could do as he pleased with his horse but they were not going to picket theirs.

Schweigert then bethought himself and remembered that Ezekiel Chase had a fine field of wheat out near the present Spoer place. That night he led his pony out next to the wheat field and picketed it just far enough away so it could not reach the grain. That night the Krauth and Leutz horses came down to visit Schweigert's and being free banqueted on the Chase wheat. The next morning Chase came to town with kindled wrath and made Krauth and Leutz pay for the damages their horses had done. After that their horses were picketed, too.

About this time and during the summer of 1890 there was a rise of a religious movement among some of our western Indians that led up to a great deal of local excitement. Out in western Nevada there was a young Paiute Indian who during a severe illness had been befriended by the wife of a rancher. She also taught him something about the white man's Bible and religion. His name was Vo-vo-ka but was also known as Jack Wilson. As he lay with the fever he thought he saw visions and resolved, on recovering, to preach a new gospel to the Indians in which the second coming of Christ was emphasized. He preached brotherly love, taught the Indians not to fight, that they should do right, tell no lies, to hold a sacred dance at least once in six weeks and to bathe frequently in the river, that by reason of the misdeeds of the white man he had lost the divine favor and that the Lord was to make the Indians his chosen people at his second coming, if they were good.

He enjoined upon them secrecy, that they were to keep this religion to themselves and explain it to no white. He predicted an eclipse of the sun and in other ways rapidly gained for himself the reputation of a great prophet of the Messiah. Dancing among the Indians was considered as much a sacred prayer to the Great Spirit. The whites contemptuously called it Ghost dancing.

In an amazing short time this form of religion spread for hundreds of miles. Indian disciples of the Prophet varied the forms to suit the temperament of various tribes that adopted it. It had the attractions of a secret society and offered opportunities for all kinds of would-be preachers. Thus, overnight, Sitting Bull's land became Christianized. The more enthusiastic preachers figured that if dancing once in six weeks was good, then dancing every six days was better, and some notaries danced almost daily. Of course the white missionaries of long established sects would not admit that the Ghost Dance was a Christian church, for they held to the view that the white race alone held the exclusive monopoly of Christian sects.

However, it is difficult to imagine one believing in the second coming of Christ without believing in the first.

Their teachings and rituals had far more significance for Indians than any the missions could offer. The white missionaries became alarmed; they were no longer sure of their converts. They all took a stand against the new sect and denounced its ritual with pious slander. But the enthusiasm of the great Indian dance meetings could be no more abated by them than the spirit that pervades a Methodist Revival, or a meeting of the Holy Rollers, Jumpers or any other of a hundred so called christian sects. The Indians simply went on with their dancing, refusing to explain anything, while the white man's newspapers were filled with alarming descriptions and scareheads.

Sitting Bull at that time lived in retirement on the Grand River. He was an old, experienced and practical man among his people. He had lived in Canada some years, had visited Washington and other large eastern cities, had put in a season with "Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show" and with it toured the east and Europe. He had seen the multitudes of whites and knew their ruthless greed. He saw the whites disagree over the various creeds. He could not fathom it so he rejected it all. He had a system of his own that served his needs and those of his people. He thoroughly understood it while the complications of the white man's belief confused him. As a practical politician he did not oppose the new cult anticipating that the fad would die out as rapidly as it sprung up.

About 200 men with their families gathered at his camp where they carried on their dancing. He sometimes went out as a matter of curiosity to see them. He still had a great reputation as a Medicine Man, and as the winter season approached he foretold his people that he would give them such a mild winter that they could dance out in the open all the time. It turned out just as he said.

By this time the whole surrounding country was agitated and riled on account of the newspaper reports of the alleged activities of Sitting Bull whose name was world famous, and for a radius of hundreds of miles people were leaving the country, while those who remained fortified their homes in preparation of sudden attack. The world at large termed these Indians "hostiles" and very dangerous.

Fort Sauerkraut

In a lifetime ago, I was a teacher... a social studies teacher...in Mandan...Morton County...state of North Dakota. Eighth grade kids can be a challenge. Teaching North Dakota history can be a challenge. Finding anything that might be of interest to that age group is never easy. And so it was with North Dakota history.

Every state is rich in historical perspective. The difficulty lies in making it something more than just names, dates, and places.

In my high school days, the very brief sojourn into North Dakota history was focused primarily on that which happened in the eastern half of the state. Why? I can't say. But it was.

When one considers what happened in the western part of the state, particularly the Badlands with Teddy Roosevelt and the Marquis de Mores, the west has every bit as much of a "colorful" past as does the east.

But what about in between? What kind of "history" does the area around my home town of New Leipzig have to offer? The answer is "a LOT"!

Ever hear of Ft. Sauerkraut? This may just be one of those hidden, very little known "jewels" of history. I'd never personally heard of it until I started digging to find something about Morton County history that might interest my kids.

There's a lot of information, actually, about this fort, but a story that stuck out for me was the one that follows. It's actually copied from a book on Morton County that I can't even find anymore for attribution. It may still be available, but in all the research I've done online, it's nowhere to be found.

The humor related in this story is unmistakable. It makes it more real to the reader. I'm doing the story in four parts:

Part 1: Ghost Dancing Among the Indians; Schweigert Awake While Others Nap

Part 2: Indians Reported on War Path; Frightened Settlers Flee to Town

Part 3: Frightened Men Build Fort, Scouts Watch From Hilltops

Part 4:  Northern Indians Come to Rescue; Raber Holds His Scalp

And, just so you know I'm not making this stuff up, here's a link to a shorter version of the story I'm sharing: Dickinson....The Western Edge



Enjoy!

The Sandhills

The Sands of the Kalahari, The Desert Fox, High Plains Drifter - These are just a few of the 'role' model movies we had growing up in a small rural town in North Dakota by the name of New Leipzig. What makes these three unique is they all involve desert filming.

We didn't have deserts in New Leipzig - not even close. But we did have the Sandhills, our own little enclave of sand formations and sandy ground in between those formations where we played as kids, and took on roles we saw in movies, and, yes, even some on television (we're not THAT old, don'tcha know).

It took quite an effort to find the Sandhills on Google Maps, but it's there:

That's the Cannonball River to the left of our little 'movie set'. This image doesn't even show Highway 49 off to the right, but it's there, too.

For anyone wanting to visit the site on Google Maps, you can do so by following this link:

Sandhills of New Leipzig

For the uninitiated, the Sandhills of New Leipzig aren't the Sandhills of Nebraska by any stretch of the imagination. Nor are they the Kalahari Desert, the Sahara Desert, The Great Sand Dunes of Colorado, or any of a number of deserts in our U.S. Southwest so many of us are familiar with from both movies and TV. In fact, they really aren't 'hills' either....more of a small canyon, actually. But they were magical to us - they 'became' those famous and infamous deserts in our active imaginations, and that's really all that matters.

They're on private property, but that didn't ever stop us, as kids, from visiting and exploring their wonders, their own kind of splendor, their own kind of mythical romance. We made up our own ghosts, our own legends, our own characters, our own games with unmatched enthusiasm and imagination. And those hills were a LOT bigger to all of us as children than they are now to us as adults - that's for sure.

The games we played often times spilled over onto the rather steep incline at the 'mouth' of the formation down to the Cannonball River far below. Well, maybe not so terribly far, but far enough to let us imagine it was a virtually unscalable cliff which meant certain death if we slipped or lost a foothold or handhold.

After our death defying descent to the stream below, into the trees along the riverbanks we would go, their shade providing a reprieve from the hot desert sun burning, searing ever present overhead, carrying our imaginations with us, extending our games into more hospitable environs, oases if you will, as we went.

The climb back up just as arduous and dangerous as the descent, we'd eventually reach the mouth of the hills, themselves. Sort of like entering the Hole in the Wall in Wyoming. The problem then became one of whether we were the 'good guys' or the 'bad guys' - each fraught with their own individual advantages and dangers.

These games were never ending - that is until it was time to hit the hot dusty trail back to our homes in New Leipzig, a mere two miles distant. Doggone parents! They said to be home by a certain time, and, by golly, we ALWAYS listened!

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to locate any photos taken down in this natural wonder. If anyone else has some, please consider sharing, and I'll post them in this blog.

Well, ask and you shall receive....

Photo Credit: Ross Pastian, New Leipzig High School, Class of '63'

Photo Credit, Timothy Hertz, New Leipzig High School, Class of '63'

Some very special memories.....

Seven Wonders of My Childhood World

The list of wonders of the World, both natural and man-made, changes with time and technology. There are seven wonders of the ancient world, and there are even organizations promoting new wonders of the world. It's all really fascinating, to varying degrees, with virtually everyone.

In fact, I bet if we were to think really, really hard.....if we were to challenge our own individual memory banks.....if we were to go back in time to our individual childhoods.....we'd ALL remember things that were wondrous to us, things that had special meaning, things that - to others - might mean absolutely nothing. But, because we experienced them, because we lived them, they hold a special place in our hearts, in our lives, in our psyches, maybe even in our loves.

Such are the Seven Wonders of My Childhood World, and I'm talking about early childhood all the way into my twenties.

This post is a list, nothing more. We all have our own lists. The one that follows is mine. Please consider listing your own in the comments that follow. Items on these lists DO mean something. They DO represent special places in our hearts. They DO go beyond the ordinary.

Seven Wonders of My Childhood World:

The Sandhills
Eisenglass Hill
River Forests
The Old Town Water Tower
River Crossings
Cave above the Cannonball River
The "Old Garden"

I can think of sooooo many more, but these are the ones that really jump out at me in my memories. They are all associated, somehow, with My Town.

Here are some "honorable mentions":

Paved Streets
Heart Butte
Coffin Buttes
Lake Tschida
Cannonball River
Odessa
Main Street

In posts to follow, each of these "Wonders" will get more attention to detail. For right now, this can be considered a "teaser" to get your own minds going - to get you thinking about the wonders of Your Town, your childhood.

Have fun!

Dad

Not too long ago, I posted this piece on Facebook from an interview I did with my Dad, Herbert George Hochhalter. For those who may have seen it already, my apologies. For everyone else, this is who my Father was - a simple, down-to-Earth kind of guy. He was very soft-spoken most of the time, but when he said something, it meant us kids needed to listen.

RIP Dad February 10, 1915 - April 10, 2008:

Herbert George Hochhalter

El Paso, TX U.S. Army

Herbert Hochhalter
Feb 10, 2008
93rd Birthday

Conversation with Herbert (my Dad) of his childhood memories:

Ferdinand’s (Editor's note: Ferdinand was my Dad's Father - my Grandfather) brothers were all farmers around Armour, South Dakota.

Their sister, Katherine, married Fred Herr. As I remember she was the youngest in the family. Later on, they moved to California. John and Fred died quite young. John was about 50 and Fred was a little older. Adolph retired in Tripp, South Dakota. Andrew eventually took over the family farm at Armour. He was younger than Dad and came to North Dakota with Dad and homesteaded. Each had a quarter (160 acres) of land.

When George (Andrew’s and Ferdinand’s Dad) passed away in 1905, Andrew went back to South Dakota. His death might be the reason Andrew went back. Ferdinand traded his 80 acres of land in South Dakota to Andrew for Andrew’s 160 acres of land in North Dakota.

I don’t know how long Andrew was in North Dakota, but Dad married Johanna Liedtke in 1908, and both he and Andrew came to North Dakota in 1903. So, there must be a five year span for Andrew living in North Dakota.

I think what brought my family to America from Russia is that men had to go into the Russian military. Farming wasn’t too good anymore, either. Collectivization of farmland got them pretty upset and many left. The whole Hochhalter family came over at the same time. The Liedtkes, Fred stayed and took over the family farm in South Russia, and he eventually came over too and settled in South Dakota, too.

(Editor's note: Kassel, Ukraine is where my Grandfather was born. I believe Hoffnungstal is where Dad's Mom, Johanna, my Grandmother was born)

I imagine the reason they came to North Dakota was because land in South Dakota was all taken up already. I don’t know how they found that out.

It was a pretty hard journey to America from Russia. I think they came through Ellis Island, but I don’t think there’s any record. I'm sure they didn’t come through Canada (Editor's note: according to the Petition for Naturalization for Ferdinand Hochhalter, this family came through the Port of Chicago, although I’m not sure how they got that far inland without doing some land travel, or go through the St. Lawrence Seaway, to get there).

Ferdinand was only 12 years old when they came over. The family settled in South Dakota because of the Homestead Act. There may have been another sister who stayed in Russia when her husband refused to come over, but it’s news to me.

Ferdinand and Andrew moved to North Dakota because there wasn’t enough land in South Dakota to go around. I think the reason they chose where they chose was more than likely because of land availability. Most of the area around there was good farmland. They arrived October 3, 1903 by train into Glen Ullin. They shipped a wagon, horses, and supplies from South Dakota. Most railroads ran east-west, but there must have been some connection to Glen Ullin using the Milwaukee Road.

On their way from Glen Ullin to their new homestead, Ferdinand and Andrew stayed their first night at the Zacher ranch about 6 miles north of present day Elgin. I wouldn’t mention this if it wasn’t for the fact I married Gwen Zacher whose Grandfather owned and operated the ranch my Dad and his brother stayed at that night.

I thought they had a covered wagon to haul some supplies, equipment, and lumber they’d bought in Glen Ullin.

The original location they chose to build a house was about a quarter mile south of where the actual home site ultimately wound up. When Dad and Andrew got to the claim they unloaded the wagon and turned the wagon box upside down. That’s what they lived in until they got shelter up for the horses and themselves and a well dug. The well was very important because they needed water more than anything else to survive. Then they put up the shed for the horses, I think. They eventually built a sod house and lived in it.

The original farmstead was destroyed in a prairie fire probably the next year. Dad told me he and Andrew went to the river to get wood because they didn’t have coal. When they came back they were burned out. They’d seen smoke from the river and were afraid of what might be going on so they headed home as fast as they could go. They lost everything and that’s when they decided to go a little farther north to a new home site and they dug a well there. Why they moved I don’t know.

I don’t know how Ferdinand and Johanna met. Maybe they knew each other in South Dakota before he settled in North Dakota, I just don’t know. He went back to South Dakota and they were married in Menno January 29, 1908.

After they were married, he brought Johanna to her new home in North Dakota. It was a pretty long trip to make. Mom and Dad traveled by train because by that time the Milwaukee Railroad went through Lemmon, South Dakota.

The big house was built in 1918, so Ferdinand and Johanna lived in the sod house for about 10 years. The five older kids were all born in the sod house - the last was Elsie in 1917. I was three when the new house was built. The only thing I remember about the house being built was the carpenter had to cut a board to fit into the siding and these little triangle pieces came out and I was picking them up and playing with them. I don’t remember how long it took to build the house or who built it. The barn was moved in quite a few years later, maybe 1920 or so, after the big house was built.

The Michael Hochhalters you see in the photograph below outside our house lived right out of Bentley, North Dakota.

Michael was Grandma Hochhalter’s third husband. He married Grandma when she was a Liedtke sometime after her second husband, my Grandpa, died. She was my Mother’s Mother, but Michael was not my Mother’s Father. I have no idea when Grandpa died. So, the Grandpa I knew was Michael. They didn’t have any children that I know of. We used to stop there for lunch when we’d haul grain to the Farmer’s elevator in Bentley. We’d stop in after we unloaded and fed the horses and Grandma would always fix us some good soup.

The Lorenzen and Herman families were neighbors. Some of these photos were taken by Theo Lorenzen. The Lorenzen farm was just north of ours where Harry Hochhalter eventually farmed.

The Lorenzens lived there for many years - for as long as I can remember. They must have come there shortly after my Dad. I think they came from Leith or somewhere around there. The Herman farm was just a ways east of there. I don’t know where they came from but their land was in the quarter next to the Lorenzens and just north of Andrew’s parcel.

After the Hermans left, Lorenzen bought the land and must have taken down all the buildings.

The Hermans and the Hochhalters used to work together quite a bit, more so than the Lorenzens and Hochhalters. Harvest took a crew of at least four people, so they almost had to work together to get it done.

The header cut the grain and there was an elevator on it which elevated the grain up into the header box that had a high side and a low side. They’d put the grain in on the low side and take it to the stack to unload it. This was different from shocking the grain. This was a different operation where you cut the grain with a 'binder', and then the grain had to be bundled into a 'shock'. The process we used was to first of all harvest the grain, put it into stacks, and the rest was all done later. My Dad and Mr. Hintz had a rig together, but before that they hired someone else to come through and thresh. They’d come through and thresh for different people because not everyone had a threshing rig. The threshing was done mostly in October. Sometimes it went into November. The main thing was to harvest the grain and put it into stacks when it was ripe. It just stayed there until the threshers came out. Oats and rye, a lot of people cut that with a binder that tied it into bundles. They’d go so far and then they’d drop the bundles after they had about five or six bundles in the carrier. Then we’d go around later and 'shock' the bundles. We raised wheat, oats, and barley. We also had some corn.

My Dad had cattle for as long as I can remember, so, we put up quite a bit of hay. We had ten or twelve milk cows and we also had chickens that produced lots of eggs. We raised all the food we ate, pretty much. The milk was separated and some was fed to the calves and hogs. The cream would get put into cans and once a week we’d take it into town and sell it. Every town had a creamery and a truck would come around to pick it up. Later on there were some cheese factories that sprung up and the trucks would haul the milk to those factories.

We always had a big garden. They were big enough to supply enough food to last until the next year. They’d plant sweet corn out in the field someplace, maybe half an acre or so. Lots of potatoes, maybe a wagon load after we dug them up. Mom and Dad stored the produce in the basement. It was always cool down there and everything kept all winter.

Heat was provided by coal. We had coal heat as far back as I can remember. There was a coal mine, Johnson Coal Mine, they’d sell coal. But during the tough years, nobody had any money. A couple miles north of our place there was a coal vein about three feet deep. Several people got together and got a permit, I think from Carson or someplace, and they’d mine their own coal. That was hard work. They’d scrape the dirt off the top and dig out the coal.

As far as burning wood is concerned, I don't remember burning wood at all. But, when Dad first got there, they had to go to the river to get wood because there weren't any trees. The Lorenzens planted the trees on their place. Otto and Dena planted the trees in the shelter belt many years later. There were absolutely no trees around the farmstead at all!

Daily chores were to get the cows and horses in. We had to get up, as far as I remember, about 6 o'clock in the morning. We'd eat breakfast, and, in the summertime, go out and do fieldwork. Then we'd come in at Noon.

Noon was always at least about one and a half or two hours. After that, we'd work until about 7 o'clock in the evening, and, after that, we'd take care of the animals and then eat supper. In the evening, we'd entertain ourselves with our musical instruments and singing.

Of course, after we got a little older, we'd go to school. We had to walk to school, a mile and a quarter. When the weather got real rough, Dad would take us. Later, when I was in 7th grade, we had a buggy with a horse and Dad would take us in that.

One of the things I remember about Dad was that he loved Velvet tobacco. He'd roll his own cigarettes and have one dangling out the side of his mouth almost all the time. Later on, he used a long filter, but every morning he'd take a handful of farmer's matches and fill his pocket with them. When he came back to the house in the evening, the matches would be all gone. He had to use a lot of them because the cigarettes he rolled would always go out after a short time and he'd have to re-light it.

I remember Dad telling me late in his life he'd always thought about quitting, but that he was just too old and he enjoyed smoking too much to give it up. Eventually, he developed a cancer near his lip where he had the cigarette dangling from his mouth all the time, but the doctors were able to remove all the cancer.

Herbert

My Town ---- Part 2

New Leipzig - what's so special about New Leipzig? Probably not much by many standards.

This small, very rural community on the plains of southwestern North Dakota isn't much different from any of the other small, very rural communities in the area. Elgin, Carson, Mott, Leith, Heil, Bentley, Hebron, Glen Ullin, Almont, Flasher, Solen, Fort Yates, Regent, New England....am I forgetting anyone? Some are a little bigger. Some are a little smaller. They all share a common bond -- they are small town rural America. They represent what some consider to be a dying iconic representation of times past in this nation. They continue to survive with grit, with determination, and with resolve.

It has its Main Street, its obligatory businesses, and residential areas, albeit smallish overall. There is no hospital or medical clinic.

There are a number of churches of different denominations in the town. The school is long gone, and the population has seen a decline over the years.

So, what makes it special? Is it special? To me, it is because it's MY town. It's special to those who still live there. It's special to those who've lived there in the past, and who chose to move away for whatever reason. It's where they grew up. It's where their lives took shape. It's who they ultimately became. And that's important, very important.

New Leipzig was established in 1910. Wow! 103 years old. I still remember the 50th anniversary celebration in 1960! Doesn't seem all that long ago. But then, I guess I'm getting a lot older, too.

The original town of Leipzig was established earlier along the banks of a small creek further north than the present day site. The creek, Antelope Creek, was probably a much more scenic location but it offered little in the way of business development or residential growth. When the railroad decided to come on through, the whole town of Leipzig moved. The new town was called......wait for it......New Leipzig.

I won't go into any more of the history of this small, quaint, still thriving community in this blog. Rather, I'll direct readers to the website for New Leipzig's history if you are so inclined.

The focus of this blog is on what it's like to have grown up in this community, to have had my life shaped by events that, had I been born in a large, metropolitan city, would have been much different. There were similarities, in some respects, but the differences far outweighed those likenesses.

This is a rural community, of that there can be no doubt. The main source of income is directly related to, and irrevocably intertwined, with agriculture.


Sure, there are other "industries" in this community, but, by and large, they also depend on agriculture in some way, shape, or form, for their very existence.

It's been said by some that rural folk have a different mentality. I guess that would all depend on whether or not you're one of those rural folk. Regardless, I believe those of us who grew up rural keep a part of that lifestyle, that mentality with us for life. I'm still uncomfortable in an urban, metropolitan environment even though I lived and worked there for a good portion of my life.

My brother, Clayton (another post will be dedicated to him later), was very uncomfortable in his rural setting. He couldn't wait to get out and spread his wings elsewhere. As he grew older, though, he was inexorably drawn back to his roots. His reminiscences were of a childhood laced with good times and good memories in New Leipzig, North Dakota. His ashes were spread by family on our Dad's land south of town - just as he wanted.

My parents, may they both rest in peace, lived and worked in this community until their retirement in 1982 at which time they traveled the country looking for just the right retirement spot. They ultimately found it in a remote, very rural spot in Arizona. When it became apparent their age was not going to allow them to live so far away from family any longer, they moved to Littleton, Colorado. They knew it had to be done, but they were never completely comfortable in their new environs.

I can remember farmers in the New Leipzig area moving to town after their retirement, and not lasting very long after. We were fortunate enough to have our parents around for quite a few years after they moved here. I believe being close to family had something to do with that - or at least I hope it did.

Generation after generation has been born, raised, nurtured, lived, aged, matured, and ultimately died in New Leipzig. Everyone knows everyone else, although when I look now at some of the names in the Grant County News, I don't recognize some of them. But faces familiar to us in our youth stay with us for life. High school classmates, family friends and relatives, ALL remain familiar no matter where everyone is now located.

And so it goes.