Dunseith History Car question
From Bonnie Awalt Houle (56): Becker, MN
Dear Gary,
The group that reads and replies to this blog have automobile history down perfectly. I’d like to know what kind of a pick-up had a hood ornament that would light up when the pick-up was running? Wallace Hiatt had such a pick-up in 1954-55. One evening a bunch of us were in Wallace’s truck at the city park, with Gordon Neameyer and his truck parked next to us. Only two vehicles but lots and lots of teens having a great time. The pick-up with the best radio was Wallace’s, therefore his vehicle was running and his ornament was lite up. Mr. Hiatt was the town policeman and was driving along and saw the lighted ornament and we were all busted. Everyone believed we would never have been busted if it weren’t for the lighted (deer,or ram) ornament. Of course back then getting busted meant you were told to go home immediately, (believe it or not we all went directly home amazing isn’t it.) I will be very kind and not list all of the teens that were involved but I remember them all well. Dick Johnson you should be able to come up with the vehicle type and probably year also.
Bonnie Awalt Houle 56
Indelible Feelings
Reply from Vickie Metcalfe (70): Bottineau, ND
Gary and friends,
Folks reading this blog tend to identify with similar experiences of others reaching beyond their own generation. Back, back and further back again to faces and places which connect fond memories of each Dunseith school child of the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, 60’s and early 70’s.
We discover, between and among us, although spanning many generations, the familiarity of faces and places are forever etched in time and imprinted into memories. I have found this in the face of my friend Wes, although coming from different generations, we have discovered many common experiences and knowledge of dear people while visiting.
Wesley tells of school noon hour during the thirties, eating his bucket lunch sandwich, possibly lard on homemade bread packed by his mother. I identify with Wes, as it is a common family story told by my own dad. And, I recall school clothes and chore clothes, maybe if, really lucky, Sunday clothes.
And in my father’s time of, maybe? Just one. Just one pair of hand me down pants. Of going to bed while mother did the washing, until clothes were dry.
After eating lunch, children were free for an hour. Many oft to visit the familiar sites of downtown, mainstreet Dunseith. Like indelible ink on our minds; Shelver Drug, Hassen’s, Hosmer’s, Lamoureux Garage, Red and White Store, Bedard’s Red Owl , the Bakery and others like Minnie’s cream station, the hardware; all within a few steps of the school.
We recollect,slipping into, KC’s and Marge’s calm, quiet general store while dust motes drifted lazily down a ribbon of warm, natural light coming through the store window. Various scents tingled and piqued noses as town “kids and country youth” wandered the few aisles, eyes adjusting into the shadowy corners. Often, Wes and other’s after, aligned cans and dry goods. This always meant a reward due with a generous handful of penny candy in a brown bag.
Oh listen! A teacher is ringing the hand bell. Time to get back to the big white school house!
Those storekeepers of yesteryear, knew the names of every most every adult who came into the store. They knew who their parents were and their individual character traits. Or flaws. Storekeepers took time to visit young as well as old. “Kids and youth” connected with the proprietors and given time, were identified by their own individual merits.
Wesley has told me during his childhood, K.C. and Margie Sine, storekeepers of the Red and White, in turn were frequent visitors to the Peter Schneider farm. Specifically, one Sunday afternoon visit brought a request to Mr. Schneider from KC. Warren and Wes complied with their fathers request and up the stairs they ran to fetch the boxing gloves.
The boys tied their gloves on and showed-off numerous moves, in their foot work and delivered well planned punches. Wes learned about the meaning of a feeling that day. His little brother, Warren learned a new boxing move! With a right hook he aimed for Wes chin. Wes delighted in dancing away and caught up in his foot work, dodged low.
ALAS! His suspender was caught and came out of its’ connection. With moving around, the bib-overalls quickly slipped down. Wes tried but the gloves made his nimble fingers unable to retrieve his pants. With more dancing around, Wes found himself restrained. Quickly assessing the situation, Wes “hopped like a jackrabbit up the stairs” as K.C. , his brother and father laughed heartily.
Wes said it was a long time before he could go back to the Red and White Store. A indelible etched memory! He never forgot the feeling of the red flush of embarrassment that heated his face whenever KC grinned at him when they discussed boxing moves. Because dear friends, those were the days’ when country boys of the thirties wore bib overalls…… no underwear. Thanks, Wes for an indelible story .
Vickie Metcalfe,
November 2010
Memorable Day
From Dick Johnson (70): Dunseith, ND
Gary and Friends,
I had a real bad day June 8, 1968. It started out with Dad and I going to the farm and loading a big bull, about 2000lbs, in the pickup stock rack. We were taking him to Davidson’s for butcher. When we got to Dunseith the bull decided he had enough riding and jumped over the rack on top of the cab and over the hood and away he went running around town. I chased him all morning and part of the afternoon and finally got him in the stockyard pasture east of the elevator. I followed him for a couple more hours and got a rope on him. He took off and jumped the three wire fence along old highway 5, but the loose end of the rope got wrapped around a stick and then snapped off that and went around my ankle and jerked my feet out from under me. I was being dragged toward the fence and got the rope off just as I got to the fence. He went into Lake Shutte and stood in the water. I waded in and got another rope on him and then we managed to get him into Rene Bedard’s corral and reloaded into the pickup. Dad had spent the day putting new boards on the rack and making some top bars so he couldn’t (shouldn’t) jump over the top again. As soon as we had him loaded, Dad took off for Bottineau as fast as he could. I was hot and muddy and soaked so I went home to clean up. He was only half way to Bottineau and he blew out a new back tire on the pickup. That wouldn’t have been so bad but the bang and the shaking scared the bull and he went nuts trying to get out again. Dad changed the tire and kept the bull in the rack by whacking his head with the tire iron. He made it to Davidson’s and dropped the bull off. When he got back to Dunseith, he went to the Standard station, then run by Bob Lemke, to get the new tire replaced. It had started raining so Bob told Dad to drive the pickup inside. Dad asked him if the stock rack would clear the garage door and Bob said it would–drive in. It didn’t and tore the door off the track and it fell on top of the stock rack. They got it off and replaced the tire and Dad came home for supper. He told me to take the stock rack back to Cliff Halvorson’s before something else happens. I went across Main street and dropped Dad off for a city council meeting and then turned south one block west of the old police station. When I got to Leo Lamoureux’s house, I looked both directions and nothing was coming so I started into the intersection. There are/were some evergreens on the south side of Leo’s house and from behind those trees came a car at a speed for the highway, not city streets. The guy was hurrying to get his son to a baseball game and was late. The police estimated his speed at around 45-50 MPH. He slammed into the drivers door on Dad’s big 3/4 ton International pickup and all hell broke loose! I remember seeing the car just a split second before impact and then BANG! The pickup cab buckled and the windshield shattered and the dash went up in a V in the middle. My head went through the side window and it actually felt soft for a second. Things also seemed like slow motion. The guy’s car went on the east side of Evelyn Gottbreht’s house and the pickup was propelled through her lilac bushes and toward the west on the north side of her house, ending up near the west end of the house. Dad’s big tool box was sitting on the floor and it slammed into the drivers door—with my left foot between the two. It nearly broke my leg and cut my ankle pretty deep. I had cuts all over my face and neck from the side window and was a bloody mess. Bob Whiteshield was the cop and I told him my dad was at a city council meeting so he took me over to the police station, still bleeding and limping on my sore ankle. I can still remember Dad jumping up when he saw me and saying, “NOW WHAT!” I just said, ‘Now, I had a wreck.” I wore glasses then and I found them the next day laying in the intersection smashed into tiny bits. They must have flown off my face, through the side window glass, and over the top of the car, to be laying in the intersection where they were. Many people drove by to look at the wreck and I suppose many of them ran over my glasses not knowing they were there. The other driver and his son were bruised up too but none of us went to the hospital. Later that night, Dad said, “Next year on June 8th, we’re all staying in bed.” Thanks Gary!
Dick
