HISTORY

Minnesota won a Confederate battle flag from Virginia at Gettysburg. Here's why it won't give it back.

Tracy Briggs — Fri, 04 Jul 2025 18:00:00 GMT

There might not be a lot of mystery surrounding

how

the Civil War turned out when it ended in April 1865. In the simplest of oversimplified nutshells:

The Union defeated the Confederacy. The nation was restored. And slavery was abolished.

Cue documentarian Ken Burns for the rest of the details.

But one Civil War mystery still brews long after Robert E. Lee’s Confederate army surrendered at Appomattox on April 9, 1865. It involves a question over who is the true owner of a Confederate battle flag seized at the Battle of Gettysburg — the original regiment who marched with it or the enemy who took it away?

In other words, Virginia or Minnesota?

Hear Tracy Briggs narrate this story:

Let’s start at square one with the help of documentation provided by the Minnesota State Historical Society and the 28th Virginia Infantry Regiment.

Minnesota’s entry into The Civil War

Let’s start at the very beginning. Minnesota had been a state for just three years when it became among the first states (and some claim the very first state) to commit soldiers to fight for the Union in the Civil War.

Just one day after the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, on April 12, 1861, Minnesota Gov. Alexander Ramsey offered up 1,000 men for national service.

Within two weeks, the First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry Regiment was filled with 1,009 men from St. Paul and nearby towns. The Regiment was part of the Army of the Potomac and engaged in fighting at the First Battle of Bull Run in Virginia and the Battle of Antietam in Maryland.

But the regiment might be most remembered for its efforts at the Battle of Gettysburg from July 1-3, 1863.

The Battle of Gettysburg

According to Patrick Hill’s story, “Colors of Valor — the 28th Virginia Regiment’s Flag in Minnesota,” published for the Minnesota Historical Society, that summer of 1863, the Confederates were within striking distance of Philadelphia, with some historians theorizing that Gen. Lee was hoping to strike coal fields near Harrisburg to cripple the industrial power of the North.

The rebels were on the move, consolidating their forces at Gettysburg.

“At that moment, the Army of Northern Virginia was the most successful fighting force ever assembled in the Western Hemisphere, and it was intent on delivering a decisive blow,” wrote Hill.

The First Minnesota and the rest of the Union Army of the Potomac was sent to Gettysburg, where by all accounts they faced an uphill battle. They had been defeated three out of the last four major engagements in the South, and this could be the turning point of the war.

A Minnesota house painter saves the day

The fighting at Gettysburg had been raging for two days, when the First Minnesota (at the center of the Union line) was ordered to make a diversionary charge into the Confederate line. It was costly, according to the Minnesota Historical Society, with 82% of the unit being injured or killed.

But a private from St. Paul was not one of them. Marshall Sherman was a house painter by trade who had moved to the Minnesota territory from his native Vermont in 1849.

“He was a gentleman by most accounts, a small, quiet, soft-spoken man,” Hill wrote. “But it may have crossed his mind as he ran over the ridge at Gettysburg on the hot afternoon of July 3, that being a gentleman was not going to help him.”

What faced him and the others was described by Hill as “complete pandemonium” and “an image from hell.”

It was believed that whomever won this charge would prevail in the battle. When it was done, Northern forces had won, and the soft-spoken house painter from St. Paul had seized the Confederate battle flag of the 28th Virginia Infantry Regiment to prove it.

So where did the flag go after the battle?

According to records, the flag of the 28th Virginia was one of 25 flags captured that day. It was taken to the War Department and was officially recorded as property of the U.S. government on July 10, 1863.

When the war ended, Southern states intent on rebuilding weren’t that concerned with getting their old flags back. But by 1887, with the war 22 years in the rear view mirror, talks began about returning flags to the original owners.

Eighteen years later, in 1905, Congress passed a resolution stating that any flag "now in the custody of the War Department" be returned to their original regiments. "Now" becomes the most important word going forward.

Did Minnesota’s seized prize from Gettysburg have to go back to Virginia? It depended, largely upon exactly

where

the flag was at the moment the resolution was passed. And by all accounts, it was clearly in the Land of 10,000 Lakes in 1905, among the lefse, loons and hot dishes.

But how did Minnesota get the flag out of the War Department in the first place? This is probably the biggest mystery and at the heart of who has a legal claim to the flag.

If the flag was property of the War Department in 1905, presumably it should be returned to Virginia. However, with it being in Minnesota in 1905, was it still considered a possession of the War Department?

Was it just

on loan

to Minnesota or was it

a gift

to the state, thus not needing to be returned to anyone?

Did Minnesota get the flag as a party favor?

According to the Minnesota State Historical Society, the First Minnesota always claimed to be the first three-year state regiment offered for Union service.

So on February 6, 1864, with little time left in their service, the Minnesota Congressional Delegation hosted a celebration of the unit at Washington’s National Hotel. It was quite the shindig with special guest Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, the banquet speaker.

However, Stanton wasn’t just at the party to have a glass of whiskey and pat Minnesotans on the back. According to historians, he had an ulterior motive.

By the winter of 1864, long after the Union victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg, Northern forces were starting to falter a bit. Even as he was sending the regiment back to Minnesota to their farms and loved ones, Stanton knew it was in the Union’s best interest to re-enlist these veterans and recruit more.

Would he be willing to resort to a little gift-giving for incentive?

According to Hill’s account, “it was common for Stanton to approve loans or grants of trophies of war, including captured Confederate flags, to increase patriotic fervor and display military accomplishment.”

He believes Stanton brought the flag to the banquet, where it eventually went home with the Minnesotans and was seen in a parade in St. Paul just a week later. It is believed then, that the man who originally grabbed the flag, Marshall Sherman, borrowed it to get his photo taken with it. It appears he never gave it back. But was he even required to?

Either way, the patriotic bribe seemed to have worked with successful recruitment in Minnesota, including Sherman himself. After reenlisting, he was later injured in a battle in Petersburg, Virginia, where he lost his leg. He eventually had this unusual photo taken of him with his prosthetic leg removed and sitting beside him.

The flag on display

It appears after taking the photo with the flag, Sherman loaned it to the St. Paul Cyclorama from 1886 to 1888. Cycloramas were popular forms of entertainment in the 1800s. For a small fee, people would walk into the huge, circular display covered in a panoramic image, thus immersing themselves in whatever event the image portrayed. In this case, it was the Battle of Gettysburg.

Following Sherman’s death, the flag was most likely given to the Grand Army of the Republic, a Civil War veterans group, and later given to the Minnesota Historical Society, where it would occasionally come out for special events.

Virginia wants it back

For most of the 20th century, Minnesota’s possession of the flag was a non-issue. But as the 100th anniversary of The Civil War was getting closer, interest picked up.

In 1960, the Virginia Historical Society asked the Minnesota Historical Society for the flag and was denied.

Then, in 1965, for the centennial celebration of the end of The Civil War, one Minnesota Historical Society assistant director wanted to play "Minnesota nice" and offered to give the flag back to Virginia as a gesture of reconciliation. But he hadn’t gotten official approval before making the plan, so he was stopped dead in his tracks. It was determined that the flag was part of Minnesota history now, and it would stay there.

In 1998, the call came from a group of 28th Virginia Infantry reenactors, many descendants of men who were in the original battle, who wanted the flag back as per the 1905 Congressional resolution.

According to the St. Paul Pioneer Press, the Minnesota Historical Society sought the advice of assistant attorney general Peter J. Berrie, who ruled the state need not give the flag back because “the six-year statue of limitations for reclaiming lost goods in Minnesota had expired. The claim was 128 years too late.”

Two years later, Virginians fought again to get their flag back with the state legislature passing a resolution requesting the return of the flag, despite the controversy over the symbol.

"It's a matter of state pride," Sen. John S. Edwards (D-Roanoke) told The Washington Post. "Minnesota has refused to return the flag, and they ought to. I don't know why they need it."

But Minnesota apparently wanted it for the same reason Virginia did — state pride — not in honor of the men who fought for the flag, but for those who sacrificed life and limb to defeat it.

Nina M. Archabal, then director of the Minnesota Historical Society, told the Star Tribune, “the flag’s story clearly transcends state boundaries. Legally and ethically, the bond between this flag and the people of Minnesota should not be taken lightly.”

Hill pointed out that the flag had most likely only been carried by the 28th Virginia Infantry Regiment for 18 days. On the other hand, as of 2021, it has been in the state of Minnesota for 157 years, where it is occasionally put out for the public to see. However, Director of Research for the Minnesota Historical Society Bill Convery says it is currently in long-term storage and not on display.

At this moment, there are no active requests out of Virginia to get the flag back. But that’s not to say the matter has been settled for good.

Editor's note: This archival story was first published on April 29, 2021.
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80 years after his death in World War II, remains of Minnesotan's father finally identified

Robin Huebner — Wed, 02 Jul 2025 13:25:00 GMT

FARGO — Relatives of a serviceman who died as a prisoner of war in World War II finally have the answer they’ve waited so long to receive.

Skeletal remains of U.S. Army Air Forces Staff Sgt. Irvin C. Ellingson have been identified through new DNA technology at a forensic lab in Hawaii, 80 years after his death.

Lon Enerson, one of Ellingson’s nephews, has led the family effort to bring his uncle’s remains home.

“We are overjoyed and relieved … It's a long-overdue answered prayer,” Enerson told The Forum, from his home in St. Cloud, Minnesota.

Ellingson, who grew up in Dahlen, North Dakota, enlisted at age 22 and was 25 when he died, Enerson said.

He was serving as a radar observer on a bombing mission to Tokyo on April 14, 1945, when the plane was shot down.

Ellingson parachuted to safety but was captured by the Japanese army and held captive at a Japanese prison along with 61 other American service members.

The prison caught fire a little over a month later, on May 26, 1945, after high winds fueled fires that were started by an American B-29 bombing raid over Tokyo.

None of the American prisoners survived the fire, as they were blocked in by Japanese guards, Enerson said.

The remains of more than two dozen American service members were identified in the aftermath but those of 37 others were buried as “unknowns” at the Manila American Cemetery in the Philippines, where they sat untouched until 2022.

The remains are commingled, and the Department of Defense has a threshold for disinterment, for at least 60% of those veterans’ families to provide DNA samples in order to make matches.

Families pushed the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency to disinter those unidentified remains and bring them to a forensic lab in Honolulu, where the newest DNA technology is being used to identify them.

Enerson said his uncle is the third serviceman from the Tokyo prison fire to be identified in this manner. The first identification came in September 2024 and the second in January of this year.

Ellingson’s parents and all of his siblings are deceased, so the next of kin is the oldest nephew or niece, who is Cheryl Severtson, of San Diego.

Enerson is fourth on that list.

Six groups of Ellingson’s relatives have visited the forensic lab in Hawaii since 2022, awaiting his identification, Enerson said.

Now that they have answers, some family members may return to the lab to sit privately with Ellingson’s remains, which will be placed on an army blanket, he said.

The family intends to bury Ellingson’s remains in the Middle Forest River Cemetery in rural Dahlen, alongside his parents and other siblings.

Enerson said when that day comes, he’s been told Ellingson will be buried with full military honors, at government expense.

“We just wish his immediate family could have known 80 years ago, but this is the next best time,” Enerson said.

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Did he or didn’t he? History wrestles with legend of Jesse James’ jump over Devil’s Gulch

Erik Kaufman — Tue, 17 Jun 2025 21:00:00 GMT

GARRETSON, S.D. — In 1876, legendary outlaw Jesse James and his brother Frank were on the run after committing a bank robbery in Northfield, Minnesota. Chased by a posse, the two Missouri natives raced west, managing to stay ahead of their pursuers. Eventually, they crossed into what was then Dakota Territory.

What exactly happened next has long been open to speculation. But local myth holds that Jesse James, moving as fast as he could on horseback, managed to make a leap of roughly 18 feet over Devil’s Gulch in Garretson, South Dakota, leaving the justice-seeking posse behind and allowing him to escape capture.

Now, nearly 150 years later, the picturesque quartzite rock canyon, nestled in a nook in Garretson and boasting remarkable scenic beauty, still attracts visitors to take in the view and ponder whether the American legend actually managed to make it across the gap. An annual summer festival in town is even named after him.

For Wayne Fanebust, a Sioux Falls, South Dakota-based historian and author of several non-fiction books including Chasing Frank and Jesse James: The Bungled Northfield Bank Robbery and the Long Manhunt, the answer to the question of did Jesse James jump Devil’s Gulch is fairly clear.

“I’m saying it did not happen,” Fanebust told the Mitchell Republic in a recent interview. “I know, I’m a myth buster.”

The argument against

Fanebust calls Jesse James’ alleged leap of Devil’s Gulch one of his favorite topics. As a historian who has researched the Wild West age of 19th century United States and penned historical books on the Civil War and turn-of-the-century true crime incidents, he has vast experience in digging into topics where the facts have become hazy with the passage of time.

The Devil’s Gulch jump is one such case where the facts are hard to come by, but there are some aspects about what led up to the alleged jump that is known.

Jesse James and his brother, Frank, along with six other members of their gang, attempted a bank robbery in Northfield, Minnesota, on Sept. 7, 1876. It was a messy affair, with four men killed during the ensuing gun battle, including two members of the gang. It was a lot of blood spilled for a total take of about $25 in nickels.

Now on the run, the group split up a few days later but still managed to evade capture.

Trying to make their way back to their home state of Missouri, the brothers made stops near Luverne, Minnesota, on Sept. 17 of that year and entered what was then Dakota Territory about five miles north of Valley Springs, South Dakota, later that evening, a timeline that suggests the James brothers were never near Devil’s Gulch.

“It’s known they were 12 miles north of present-day Luverne in the evening. They were in Dakota Territory, (but) in all likelihood they traveled as fast and steadily as they could over that ground, and they would have missed it altogether,” Fanebust said.

The Devils Gulch gap today measures about 18 feet across and rises about 30 feet above the creek bed below. The lead up to the eastern edge of the gap is rugged and uneven, with dense trees obstructing any clear path where James could have spurred his horse on to a full gallop. Though it is assumed by many that a well-rested horse could clear such a gap, the short approach of the chasm calls into doubt just how much momentum could be carried into the jump.

The legend also tends to overlook the details of Frank James. He is not mentioned jumping the gulch along with his brother, leading Fanebust to wonder why Frank James didn’t get the same credit his more famous sibling did.

Fanebust, who researched the event in countless pages of newspapers, books and libraries, said the legend began in the 1920s, when an area newspaper gave an account of an unnamed individual who “showed us the place where Jesse James jumped the channel riding horseback.” A year or so later, more articles on the legend followed, and that summer, a W.W. Sanders invited a group of area newspaper men to the site for a tour where he repeated the claim.

The story eventually gained more and more fame, to the point that it’s still referred to in 2025.

Fanebust said the legend, though almost certainly untrue, could have grown out of a true story where Jesse James or both brothers did leap across a creek or similar landmark on horseback during their escape. Over the years, the story grew, the gap became wider and the plunge to the bottom of the canyon deeper, with resident fans of local lore eventually settling on the picturesque setting of Devil’s Gulch as the location where the myth took place.

There’s no solid evidence that it occurred, Fanebust said. But the spectacular mental image of a man on horseback making such a jump in a scenic area — something straight out of a western movie — makes for an enticing story.

“Somehow it got built up into this legendary, impossible, leap across Devil’s Gulch,” Fanebust said. “It’s probably nothing that we will ever be able to prove or disprove.”

The case for 'maybe'

The ambiguous nature of the legend hasn’t stopped Garretson from embracing the story.

Residents still celebrate the notion that maybe, just maybe, James did make the jump with the annual Jesse James Days event, which was held this year on June 13-14. The two-day event features street dances, car shows and other entertainment that helps promote the Minnehaha County community of 1,175 people.

Carrie Moritz, who co-owns the Garretson Gazette newspaper along with her husband Garrick and also serves as president of the Garretson Commercial Club, which organizes Jesse James Days, said residents look at the legend with a bit of a wink and a nod. Folks know the story is unlikely to be true, at least as it’s told today, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t fun to talk about.

But there are a few facets of local lore that do add some credence to the tale.

“Maybe it’s just a tall tale that got told,” Moritz said. “But we do have documentation from local farmsteads that Jesse stayed at their place. Or that he stole a horse from their farmstead, or what have you. So there is known evidence that he and his brother were around here. But as for outrunning the posse and jumping the gulch? Who knows.”

There are other angles that could support the theory.

Moritz noted that over the course of 150 years the landscape of the gulch has changed. Erosion has likely widened the gap to its present width, meaning that if James did jump the gulch all those years ago, it was likely not as wide a jump as it appears today.

She also said the land where Devil’s Gulch rests, which is owned by the Wiese family and leased to the city for public use, was not always densely packed with trees. The trees that add so much to the beauty of the area were planted by the family sometime in the mid-20th century.

This means James’ jump may have been both much shorter and had a much smoother leadup to the jump than is there today.

“It looks like old-growth forest, but it’s not,” Moritz said.

As for where Frank was during Jesse’s legendary jump? Moritz said it has been posited that Jesse temporarily stashed his brother in a cave a ways up north on Split Rock Creek and then went on a ride to distract the posse from their underground hideout, which would explain Frank’s absence from the legend. That cave is now collapsed, Moritz said, but it was a popular spot for adventurous kids to explore in the 1950s.

Whether or not James successfully jumped Devil’s Gulch — or another anonymous span of creek somewhere miles away — Jesse and Frank James did eventually make their way back to Missouri without being cornered by the posse. Jesse James was eventually killed by Robert Ford in 1882, and Frank James surrendered to authorities shortly after. He lived a quieter life after his brother’s death, leaving the criminal world and working a variety of odd jobs. He died in 1915.

But their legacy as old West outlaws lives on, particularly in places like Garretson, where visitors come by the thousands for Jesse James Days in the summer. Moritz said the celebration is a fun time that promotes the community, offers a wide range of activities and entertainment and brings all-important dollars into the local economy.

“It does make a huge financial impact, and that’s part of the reason it’s put on by the Garretson Commercial Club,” Moritz said. “That’s how you get tourism money, and that’s always the goal — to get people to come to town, enjoy the atmosphere we’ve got around here and just realize that we’ve got a great little town here.”

Whether his infamous jump over Devil’s Gulch actually occurred continues to be debated. Fanebust said the uncertainty of exactly what happened is part of the appeal of the story, and the myth is not likely to die out.

The legend lives on

The story serves to spur interest among the public on the Wild West and its expansive mythology, and he said interest in the topic can lead to the study of other historical stories that are just as interesting but can also be proven to be true.

Believing the Devil’s Gulch legend may require a leap of faith, but Fanebust said the event will likely continue on long into the future. And there’s nothing wrong with that, he said.

“It is a legend with a long life, and it is an integral part of the story of the great escape by the James brothers,” Fanebust wrote in a summary of the events. “There is no point in trying to drive a stake through it, because it can’t be killed. Somewhere out there someone might find an answer, a rational explanation for an issue that seems to be pleading for closure. But then again, maybe not. Maybe, just maybe, the romance of history has a legitimate place in this outlaw narrative alongside plain, dull facts.”

More images from Devil's Gluch

Wayne Fanebust stands at the botton of Devil's Gulch where Jesse James allegedly successfully jumped across pictured on Thursday, May 22, 2025, in Garretson.

Wayne Fanebust stands next to the gap over Devil's Gulch where Jesse James allegedly successfully jumped across pictured on Thursday, May 22, 2025, in Garretson.

Wayne Fanebust speaks about the historic myth of Jesse James jumping over the Devils Gulch on Thursday, May 22, 2025, in Sioux Falls.

Scenes from Devil's Gulch Park pictured on Thursday, May 22, 2025, in Garretson.

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50th annual Hangfires' Blackpowder Rendezvous set for June 13-15 in Bemidji

Pioneer Staff Report — Wed, 11 Jun 2025 14:36:39 GMT

BEMIDJI — Opportunities to time travel don’t come along every day, but the Hangfires' Blackpowder Club of Bemidji has been taking people back to the 1700s and early 1800s each summer for 50 years.

The weekend of June 13-15, the club is hosting their 50th Annual Rendezvous just south of Bemidji.

"Modern rendezvous were started decades ago by gun clubs holding black powder events," Frank Bera, president of the local club, said in a release.

Activities and competitions at the rendezvous are authentic to the pre-1840s time period.

At the weekend-long event, participants live on the site in self-constructed rudimentary shelters — A-frames, pole tents, wall tents with canvas tarps — and sleep on the ground or on a cot.

They prepare food in cooking pits or braziers with coals, dress in period clothing and participate in events and demonstrations.

Competitions are authentic to the time period: shooting contests, hawk knife, flu fl, primitive archery, kids’ games and women’s contests.

Craftspersons, artisans and traders set up marquees or lay down blankets and sell their wares. Three water spigots and ten pit toilets on the property provide "modern" conveniences.

Registration starts at 4 p.m. on Friday, June 13, and continues from 8 to 10 a.m. on Saturday.

The Rendezvous participation fee is $25. Registration is by campsite, rather than by individuals. Each campsite might have one or two people or an entire family.

Participants must be registered to compete and camp onsite, but day visitors are welcome to observe at no charge.

The rendezvous site is on Keith Johnson’s property south of Bemidji. Attendees should head toward 9179 Beltrami Line Road and then watch for signs, the release said.

For more information and to view the event brochure, visit the Hangfires Blackpowder Club Facebook page.

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Secrets of a fortress: Inside Litchfield’s GAR Hall

Susan Lunneborg — Thu, 05 Jun 2025 10:00:00 GMT

LITCHFIELD, Minn. — Visitors to the Grand Army of the Republic Hall in this central Minnesota city are able to step back 140 years thanks to the decision of the Civil War veterans who built it.

The deed for the property, turned over to what was then the village of Litchfield, spelled out that the building was to be preserved and used in a manner that maintained its original purpose — to honor Civil War veterans and preserve their history.

“The building itself is the first GAR hall built in the state,” Meeker County Museum Executive Director Danelle Erickson said in an interview for a story published by the West Central Tribune in 2022. Other Grand Army of the Republic posts formed in the state of Minnesota had gathered in homes or other available spaces.

The Grand Army of the Republic was first organized by Union veterans of the Civil War in 1866 in Illinois. The history published on the website of the Meeker County Museum and GAR Hall states that the organization’s purpose was to "maintain fellowship for the men who fought to preserve the Union and to help widows, orphans, and handicapped veterans."

The Grand Army of the Republic conducted regular meetings and had thousands of posts throughout the United States, along with thousands and thousands of members, according to Erickson. There were close to 300 members of the Litchfield post throughout the years.

The first Grand Army of the Republic post in Litchfield was formed in 1874 but died out with the death of the founder two years later. Another was formed in 1883, and many of the first meetings were in the county courthouse, according to another online history by the museum.

Members of Frank Daggett Post No. 35 decided in March 1885 that they needed their own building, and construction began in May of that year, using cream-colored brick from the local brickyard. The cornerstone was laid by Memorial Day, according to the online history.

The building is described in a 2010 inventory for the State Historic Preservation Office as "reminiscent of a small, medieval fortress” with features that include a central tower, turrets that project above the parapet wall and an inscribed stone with the raised letters “GAR” and the 1885 date.

“It’s very memorable from the outside, that fortress look. It just kind of shows a lot about the men that were here at the time,” Erickson said in the 2022 interview.

The bulk of the work was completed by October of 1885. One of the final things added was a “spectacular, 16-globe chandelier,” according to another online history by the museum.

Today, the Meeker County Historical Society is the caretaker of the GAR Hall. The Meeker County Museum, built in 1961, is attached to the back of the building.

Officially called “Meeker County Museum at the GAR Hall,” it includes a pioneer cabin and exhibits that include artifacts relating to the history of the Dakota people, schools in Meeker County, Minnesotans serving in war, medicine and more.

The two-story museum also houses a research library for genealogy enthusiasts.

In the anteroom of the GAR Hall are Civil War artifacts, including cannons, literature and photos of important players in the war.

The old wooden chairs upon which veterans sat during meetings are set up in the main hall as if ready for a meeting. The altar stands at the front of the room for use by a veteran leading the meeting. Photos of members line the walls, and the decor is original to the time.

The Grand Army of the Republic Hall was added to the National Register of Historical Places on May 21, 1975. The areas of significance for the designation are architecture and social/humanitarian.

When Erickson became museum director, she learned that some local citizens were concerned the history of the GAR Hall was not being maintained in accordance with the deed. Historic documents, including the 1885 deed, were then reviewed to better understand the intentions of the original members who had deeded the building to the city.

Erickson said the goal of all parties involved was the same — preserving the history but just with some “different views on how that was done.” The result of their work was the creation of a handbook detailing the proper care and upkeep of the facility.

The GAR Hall and museum, located at 308 N. Marshall Ave. in Litchfield, are open year-round for walk-in tours from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Friday and noon to 4 p.m. Saturdays.

GAR Hall programming includes Civil War roundtables the second Thursday of every month, featuring various speakers throughout the year.

“The Civil War, especially for American history, is pretty much one of the most written about book-wise,” Erickson said in 2022. “Each year there are thousands of books, hundreds at least, on the Civil War. It’s very much a topic that people are interested in, and continue to be interested in.”

For more from our Lakes Country Treasures series, click on the gems in the map below.

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AirCorps Aviation to hold open house May 8

Pioneer Staff Report — Thu, 01 May 2025 15:00:00 GMT

BEMIDJI — AirCorps Aviation will host a semi-annual open house event from 5 to 7 p.m. on Thursday, May 8, at AirCorps, 1180 Adams Ave.

Attendees will get a chance to see ongoing projects in the restoration facility and ask AirCorps staff questions, a release said.

The open house is a self-guided event with AirCorps employees on-site to answer any questions about projects and processes.

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As Titanic sank, world watched news unfold in ‘horror’

Jeremy Fugleberg — Mon, 28 Apr 2025 18:30:44 GMT

The ship was the largest afloat and the most glorious. Her name: Titanic.

While the fate of the luxury liner in April 1912 is now a well-known tragedy, immortalized in a 1997 movie, those reading about the disaster in real time were horrified at the breaking news.

The Titanic had always easily earned headlines. When the ship launched its maiden voyage from Southampton, England, on April 10, 1912, much attention was given to her sumptuous appointments, and they were gleefully noted by news reports.

"She is literally a floating hotel, provided with dancing rooms, smoking rooms, cafes, library and even a garden of Oriental palms and beds of roses and carnations," the Grand Forks Herald reported. "A swimming tank and a skating rink are among her other features."

The Titanic was sailing from England to the United States, carrying some of the world's richest people, including real estate mogul John Jacob Astor, whose net worth was about $3 billion to $5 billion in 2025 dollars.

One of the first people to get an inkling that something was wrong with the Titanic's cruise was a radio operator in Duluth by the name of Mrs. Redfern, who later reported hearing the ship's faint distress call.

The earliest news about the Titanic disaster was seen as obviously noteworthy — "Steamship Titanic in Dire Peril" was the front-page headline of the April 15, 1912, Brainerd Dispatch. "Titanic strikes iceberg; may sink," reported the Duluth News Tribune. But while a big event, it wasn't at first seen as a human tragedy: "Passengers are believed safe," crowed a secondary headline in the Grand Forks Herald that same day.

By the next day, the scope of the tragedy was starting to come into focus. The number of those who had likely perished varied. Some papers reported 1,400, others said 1,500 or 1,800. Regardless, the death toll made the Titanic sinking "the greatest disaster in marine history."

The Daily Post and Record in Rochester devoted its entire April 16, 1912, front page to Titanic news.

While victims of the Titanic made their way home after getting picked up by other ships, attention back home swung to figuring out who was alive and who was dead.

The notables were, of course, best known. Businessman Herbert F. Chaffee and his wife, Carrie, together one of the richest families in North Dakota, had been known to be on the Titanic, although it was reported early that Mrs. Chaffee had likely survived.

William B. Silvey, well-to-do proprietor of the Superior Hotel in Superior, Wisconsin, and his wife, Alice, were also known to have been aboard.

The nation waited impatiently as the steamship Carpathia, carrying most of those who had survived the Titanic, steamed from the sinking site to New York harbor, going radio silent at times as it fought through perilous fog.

The Duluth News Tribune encapsulated the feeling of the moment by printing a front-page illustration: A wreath with a bow, cast upon the Atlantic Ocean in memory of those lost.

"All hope that any passengers or members of the crew of the Titanic, other than those aboard the Carpathia are alive, was abandoned this afternoon," the Grand Forks Times announced April 17.

"This is the most awful ocean calamity ever known ... one of those heartsickening catastrophes that come at long intervals to blot the pages of history," the Duluth News Tribune opined the same day in an editorial labeled "A horror of horrors."

Victims finally came ashore and told their stories, which started the real reckoning. An investigation was launched. The death toll mounted — of about 2,200 passengers and crew aboard, only 700 had survived.

The newspapers began to name those who weren't in first-class cabins, such as Ever Vandlen from South Superior, Wisconsin. As a coal stoker's helper, the Danish immigrant would have been in the ship's bowels, fueling its massive boilers.

Some reports debunked concerns about a man with a similar name to one of the victims. Others remarked on their close brush with death, including Dr. Archie McCannel, of Minot, North Dakota.

He "probably owes his life to the fact that he was anxious to return to the magic city and decided not to wait until the Titanic sailed," the Fargo Forum reported April 20.

The April 21, 1912, front page of the Duluth News Tribune included a rich collection of articles, photos and illustrations about the Titanic disaster. Newspapers.com. Click on image for link to original story.

Carrie Chaffee, of Amenia, North Dakota, now ashore from the disaster, told local papers her story. Her husband, Herbert, had pushed her aboard an overloaded lifeboat, and she assumed they would be reunited shortly. But she reported hearing an odd sound.

"As we pulled away, for the first time, I understood the low purring sound. It was the water rushing into the Titanic's side, and my heart seemed to stop. The great vessel was perceptibly lowering in the water," with her husband likely still aboard, she said. "I began then to feel a horrible fear, and tried to make out Mr. Chaffee among the dark shadows against the rails. Lights were blazing behind them and boats dropping in front with a whirr and tackle. I never saw him again."

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Trump administration cuts more than $1.3M in grants from Minnesota museums, institutions

Alex V. Cipolle / MPR News — Fri, 25 Apr 2025 17:17:00 GMT

ST. PAUL — The federal government is pulling museum grants from cultural institutions nationwide, including many in Minnesota.

In April, the Institute of Museum and Library Services — the main federal funder of museums and libraries — told the Science Museum of Minnesota, the Walker Art Center, the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe, and the Ramsey County Historical Society their grants would be cut.

The IMLS pulled $625,000 in grants from the Science Museum, $250,000 from the Walker, $248,929 from the Mille Lacs Band and $212,714 from the Ramsey County Historical Society.

“This is definitely unprecedented,” said Christopher Stevens, the Walker chief of advancement. “It's pretty devastating, and it's discouraging that the federal government, which makes a relatively tiny investment in the arts, is willing to cut that investment.”

According to Chad Roberts, director of the Ramsey County Historical Society, “The biggest thing is: It's not really ever happened before where the federal government has made this kind of a promise to a museum with a grant agreement and then just decided not to do it,”

“It really shakes your confidence in any kind of funding promise that gets made,” he said.

The cuts are the result of President Donald Trump’s March 14 executive order “Continuing the Reduction of the Federal Bureaucracy.” The order called for the IMLS and other government entities to be “eliminated to the maximum extent consistent with applicable law.”

The IMLS then put more than 80% of its staff on administrative leave and curtailed and terminated hundreds of grants across the country.

In total, the IMLS awarded $1,544,319 in 2024 museum grants to Minnesota institutions. However, it is unclear how much funding has been lost in Minnesota, as the cuts could also impact grants issued in previous years that were designated for multi-year projects. This also does not account for the cuts to grants issued to libraries statewide.

The IMLS rescinded a grant awarded to the Walker in late 2024 to help the Minneapolis museum “reduce barriers for visitors with disabilities by planning and implementing interpretive tools and programs for learners with disabilities.”

Stevens, who has been with the Walker for over three decades, said he’s never seen cuts like this.

“We're deeply saddened that the federal government, which made a commitment to support that work and has contributed more than $3 million to the Walker over the decades, is now going back and canceling a contract and work we thought would benefit people that enjoy coming to art museums,” he said.

The grant cuts will affect four projects and potentially 28 staff positions at the Science Museum in St. Paul. These include:

A data and community engagement project on climate action Digitization of the museum’s Chiapas Maya Ethnographic Collection, which includes collaborating with Maya communities of Chiapas, Mexico A professional development DEI collaboration with 20 smaller and underserved museums in the Midwest The second phase of digitizing the Wannagan Creek fossil collection from North Dakota, including 8,000 fossils that date back 60 million years and document an ancient ecosystem

“They said, upon further review, IMLS has determined that your grant is unfortunately no longer consistent with the agency's priorities and no longer serves the interest of the United States and the IMLS program,” said Alison Rempel Brown, the president of the Science Museum. “I cannot guess what’s going through their heads.”

Brown said the cut to the Wannagan Creek fossil project is particularly surprising because it is the most focused on what has traditionally been considered “pure science.”

“We have a very world-class collection from that region,” she said. “That's a critical collection to help us understand how climate changed in the past, and some lessons we can learn as the climate continues to change going forward. If it's not digitized, scientists around the world don't understand that we have this collection and how they can use it to continue their scientific work.”

The IMLS cuts are unusual, Brown said, because Congress created the agency in 1996 through bipartisan support.

“Congress realized how important museums and libraries are for creating community, helping provide support, not just in cities, but rural areas as well,” she said.

The Ramsey County Historical Society in St. Paul had received a 2024 IMLS grant for $212,714 to digitize 2.5 million county assessor field cards for residential properties from 1915-2007.

Director Chad Roberts said these digital records could then be used by historians, scholars and policymakers to study the connection between racial housing covenants, redlining and zoning, and could be a resource for individuals to research the history of their homes and neighborhoods.

“Well, we've got a $212,000 budget hole to fix now, so yeah, that's going to have an impact,” he said. “Of course, we were upset. This is a project that's got a total price tag of $450,000. Federal money was a good chunk of being able to get it done in the next three years, and that's just not going to be possible.”

The grants are “reimbursal,” Roberts said, so the grantees spend the money and then request the funds. The Historical Society has already funded $15,000 worth of work on the project,

“That hasn't been paid yet, and we're not sure it's going to be,” she said. “The communications coming out of the Institute of Museum and Library Services have not been consistent.”

Roberts said this will impact employees and contracted vendors.

“In our case, it's a small business,” she said. The grant funded “a couple of jobs over a few years. That's just us. It has that impact real close to home.”

Kris Jensen, a press representative with the Mille Lacs Band, confirmed that the IMLS cut its $248,929 grant, too.

Jensen said the grant supported the preservation and perpetuation of the language and cultural practices of the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe. This would include making recorded stories from elders and community members available to the public.

The Goldstein Museum of Design at the University of Minnesota received a 2024 IMLS grant for $249,918 to photograph 1,300 objects and create an online database. Talia Milavetz, a public relations strategist for the university, said they are currently unaware of any changes to the grant.

Christopher Stevens said the Walker Art Center will request an IMLS review of termination, which must be submitted by May 12, 2025.

Minnesota has joined 20 other states in a lawsuit against the Trump administration to stop cuts to the IMLS and other agencies.

“We're hoping that some kind of a coalition of people will push back, but that will take a long time. In the short term, we won't have the money to serve the public as we were planning to do,” Stevens said.

“In the big picture of things, why you would target libraries and art museums for funding seems puzzling and doesn't seem to be solving any real problems.”

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This story was originally published on MPRNews.org.

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She was an unlikely murder suspect. But this grandmother had secrets. Her trial would reveal all

Jeremy Fugleberg — Mon, 21 Apr 2025 18:57:00 GMT

SOUTH ST. PAUL, Minn. — Louis Johnke was sick. Again. It had been a long summer for the factory worker.

It was 1937. The Great Depression. Jobs were hard to find. He felt lucky to have a job at the Cudahy meatpacking plant in Newport, Minnesota. Each day he would bid goodbye to his wife, Beatrice, from their home on North Concord Street in South St. Paul and make his way to the plant for another day of work.

Except for when he fell ill. That seemed to be happening a lot.

Since June, Louis had been hospitalized four times for illness, seemingly severe stomach poisoning, only to recover again and again. Then in August, he was hospitalized again, this time for the last time. On Aug. 19, 1937, Louis Johnke died in the hospital.

His doctors were suspicious. They ordered an autopsy and sent his stomach contents to a University of Minnesota laboratory.

Inside his stomach, they found enough arsenic to kill him many times over.

Johnke's case wasn't a medical mystery. This was murder.

The findings would detonate a scandal. It would result in a headline-grabbing arrest and trial of Beatrice Johnke that would reveal damning evidence, a sordid affair and surprise witnesses, and result in a verdict that shocked the city.

North Dakota love, Minnesota love triangle?

The Johnkes were both from North Dakota. Beatrice grew up on her father’s farm near Mantador, North Dakota, and Louis farmed nearby. They were married in Hankinson, North Dakota, before moving to South Saint Paul.

They raised two daughters, both of whom got married, and one bore a grandson, making Louis and Beatrice young grandparents. When Louis died, he was 45. Beatrice was 41.

Louis' death was not initially a big news story. But Beatrice's arrest certainly was. On Oct. 5, 1937, she was arrested and charged with first-degree murder in her husband's death. She faced the electric chair.

Dakota County Attorney Harold E. Stassen was on the case. He implied a love triangle might have been behind the murder. "The other man in the case" had been arrested as a material witness, it was said.

Stassen certainly knew how to capture newspaper attention. He was becoming a well-known political figure at the time. He would be elected governor the following year, the youngest-ever to attain that position, at age 31.

On Nov. 9, a grand jury indicted Beatrice Johnke on a charge of first-degree murder. Premeditation. The stage was set for a dramatic trial, scheduled for January 1938.

The trial

The trial, starting Jan. 10, 1938, in the Dakota County courthouse in Hastings, Minnesota, was a sensation, attended by numerous news reporters and a flood of interested members of the public, many of them women.

Once the trial began, the prosecution wasted no time putting on the stand their star witness, Carl Sandgren. He was 32, a Works Progress Administration worker and part-time nightclub waiter. He was also Beatrice Johnke's paramour.

Sandgren's salacious retelling of his and Johnke's relationship over the previous three years fueled the prosecution's claim that her infatuation with Sandgren led to her deciding to slowly and methodically poison her husband in the summer of 1937.

Beatrice Johnke had told him her husband was "going nuts," Sandgren said.

"She came where I worked and told me the old man was sick," he testified. "She said he had taken poison and was trying to kill himself."

Also, both of the Johnkes' dogs had died of arsenic poisoning. The prosecution dangled the idea that they had been Beatrice Johnke's trial run for murder.

But Johnke's defense team was ready with significant factors that pointed to her innocence. Doctors first labeled her husband's death as naturally caused. Johnke's stomach contents were left out in the open, accessible to anyone for hours, raising the possibility of contamination. Also, the prosecution had no evidence of Beatrice Johnke buying poison, or witnesses of her administering it.

The defense had its own circumstantial evidence: Beatrice Johnke had cared for her husband like a "mercy angel," it was claimed, and spent what money she had to give him a nice funeral.

The case was sent to the jury, which agonized over its decision while the judge, lawyers, the public and Beatrice Johnke awaited a decision.

Finally, on Jan. 15, 1938, after a 70-hour, 35-minute deliberation marathon across three days, the jury reached a verdict.

Beatrice Johnke was found not guilty. Acquitted of her husband's murder.

"I feel just the way I did before," she told reporters. "I expected to be freed. I had nothing to worry about."

The prosecution's circumstantial evidence hadn't met the burden of proof, the jury members said.

Beatrice Johnke was a widow. But now, for the first time in months, she was free.

Louis Johnke's murder, if that's what it was, was never officially solved.

This article was gleaned from contemporaneous news reports in the Albert Lea Tribune, the Minneapolis Journal, the Minneapolis Star, the Minneapolis Tribune and the Rochester Post Bulletin.]]>

Beltrami County Historical Society dedicates caboose at Train Days event

Madelyn Haasken — Tue, 15 Apr 2025 16:44:32 GMT

BEMIDJI — The Beltrami County History Center was buzzing with activity over the weekend during a Train Days event to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Northern Iron Horse Railroad Society.

The two-day event offered plenty of fun activities for train enthusiasts, with attendees having the opportunity to check out model railroads in multiple scales, including an expansive LEGO city and railroad displays.

Attendees were also able to tour the X259 caboose, a 1948 Great Northern Railway relic that gives visitors "a glimpse into the golden age of American rail travel," a release noted.

"Originally built as a steel, 30-foot caboose, it was an essential part of railroad operations, allowing crew members to monitor trains from an elevated vantage point. Thanks to careful preservation, visitors will have the rare opportunity to step aboard and experience the sights and sounds of a bygone era."

The caboose arrived at its permanent home on the tracks outside the history center in January 2024 after a successful fundraising campaign.

During Saturday's event, a small crowd gathered around the caboose for a dedication ceremony, where BCHS Executive Director Emily Thabes expressed her gratitude to those who made the project a success.

"This project came together so fast and it would not have been possible without all of you," she said. "We put together just a little sign of thanks for all of our contributors for folks who both donated funds, but also ... donated time, donated equipment, your experience, in some cases your blood and sweat, and a lot of hours to make this (caboose) come here and make it be a rather beautiful and available piece of history for our community."

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