Posted: 11/5/02

Armistice Day Blizzard remembered

(Editorís Note: The following Reflections column was first published on Nov. 8, 1990 and is reprinted here as part of the newspaperís on-going coverage during its 100th year.)

Elsie Vogel
Times Correspondent

ìI remember it wellî people say when you ask them about the Armistice Day blizzard 50 years ago. It was an unusually warm fall. Flowers were still blooming in November. People were wearing light-weight jackets and sweaters. Many house holders procrastinated in putting on the storm windows or ordering the winter supply of wood and coal. The weather lulled us into thinking winter was still a long way off.

Usually by this time of year business men on the west side of Lake Street had struggled to put winter ìstorm shedsî on the front doors of their buildings. Wooden storm sheds were temporarily installed to keep the blast of cold west wind and snow from entering the buildings; it also was a good place to stamp snow off the boots. But this year why hurry when it was so nice?

We must remember at that time US-61 through downtown Forest Lake was the main highway between the Twin Cities and Duluth. Traffic was unusually heavy going through town due to the holiday.

November 11, 1940

I recall it was a mild sun-shiny morning when I went to work in my fatherís store. Another nice fall day in sight, it seemed.

By mid-morning the sun had disappeared, and there was a light mist in the air. The mist turned into freezing rain, and within a short time, huge snow flakes started to fall, and the wind began to pick up. The temperature dropped rapidly, and we suddenly had a whole new outdoor sceneÖfrom pleasant to something very life-threatening, a Minnesota blizzard. The storm reached the height of its fury Monday night. In the two-day period, the accumulated snowfall was 16 inches of hard-packed snow.

Where Were You?

ìWhere were you when the storm hit?î I put this question to many local residents and the following are their recollections:

Glouress and Walter Neske

ìGlouress had an appointment that day for a permanent at the beauty shop located in the Forest Lake Theatre building. The shop was windowless, and they were unaware of the abrupt change in weather until the lights went out and, of course, the dryer wouldnít work. The operator wrapped several towels around Glouressí wet head, and she started to walk home in the intense storm, struggling against the wind. Neskes lived behind the present Sinclair Oil Station.

Frozen, curly hair was the least of Glouressí worries because her husband Bud, who was employed by the Minnesota Highway Department, already had been called to start snowplowing the main roads clogged by the drifting and heavy snowfall. It would be two days before Bud would return home. Her father, Martin Hoekstra, also with the highway department, was out in the storm, too.

Bud Neskeís Story

With the blowing snow, Bud and his partner, Louis Holmquist, had to watch the telephone poles as a guide for the road. Bud recalls the penetrating cold and how grateful the stranded people were to have Bud and Louie pull their cars out of the ditches and high drifts.

Bud said they were glad to have their lunch buckets and thermos jugs of hot coffee with them. There were no places to eat along the highway because everything was closed up tightly.

After the storm subsided, the highway crews took turns, one shift worked while one crew slept, until all the highways were opened up.

School closing

B.C. Kueffler, former school superintendent, is always a delight to visit with. I placed a telephone call to him to hear his recollections of that day.

He said listening to WCCO radio weather report was a ritual with the school. ìKids came first,î he said, and children were sent home early on the buses in case of an impending storm. Fortunately Armistice Day was a school holiday. Kueffler announced a ìsnow vacationî for the rest of the week because of blocked country roads. Several teachers also were stranded in various towns.

Harold Moen saves a life

Harold worked at the Roy Bixby grocery store which was located on the corner of Broadway and NW 3rd St. With nobody out and about, the Bixbyís decided to close the store early, and Harold started to walk to his parentsí home. He was going there to meet his wife Ann and son Gary.

Bracing himself against the storm, he walked in the middle or crown of the road. When he was in the vicinity of the former Joe Morley house on NW 1st Ave., he suddenly kicked into something buried in the snow. Looking down he saw a manís leg! Already covered with snow was someone he knew ó Chester Swanson. Harold picked him up out of the snow and revived him. The two struggled together down the road two-and-one-half blocks to Swansonís home on NW 6th St.

Chester Swanson, former Forest Lake Times editor, was a diabetic. He was returning from a day in St. Paul and evidently was feeling ill. Fighting the snow and blowing wind was too much for him. He couldnít go on. He did recover from this experience, thanks to Harold walking in the right place at the right time. By the way, the Moens had to stay with his folks for two days before they could return to their home.

All over town and the countryside people welcomed stranded travelers, relatives, and friends; with the snow so deep, travel was impossible. actually most people had an interesting or sometimes fun-filled night with their unexpected guests.

The Frank E. Andersonsí home, south of town had a full house. Their daughter-in-law, Edith, was quilting all day at their home and when her husband Harold left the print shop early to pick her up, it was already impossible for them to go home. The next day they discovered several young fellows had taken shelter and slept in Andersonís barn.

Wallyís Cafe

Lucille (Fuglie) Lind was employed at Wallyís Cafe, and she recalls, with a chuckle, how she and her friends coped.

Wally Frederickson had gone hunting out at the game farm. As the storm increased, his wife Marie and all the waitresses were worried about his safety.

The restaurant crew found they couldnít keep the front door of the cafe closed because of the strong wind. Wally hadnít put the storm sheds on yet, so they had to lock the door and then unlock it for customers.

Wally returned safe and sound about 4 p.m., and they decided to close the restaurant as the electricity was off.

The waitresses, Lucille, Gen Moen, and Lorraine Findel, decided to go up the street to see Aggie Patrin at the Rex Cafe (presently Kari clinic).

As they floundered their way through the drifts, giggling and laughing, they soon realized they were the only ones out. Mittsoff Photo Studio, F.C. Bergh Drug Store, and Dr. Poirierís Office were closed, Tony Valenty was just closing the pool hall and bar. Enquist Hardware, First State Bank, Griemans Barber Shop, the Gamble store, the Leheckaís Meat Market were locked up tight.

Lights showed in the windows on the second floor of the Herzberg building. This was the telephone office and the operators stayed at their posts trying to get calls and messages through. They used flashlights to light up their switchboard.

Dr. George Ruggles and O. A. Westin, justice of the peace, located in the old bank building, had already gone home. The post office, Houles Grocery, Peterson Drug and Ersfeld Meat Market already had snow piled high against their doors. The big awning on Simmonís Grocery and Dry Goods was flapping in the wind.

The girls were happy to see candlelight in the Rex Cafe. Aggie Patrin not only gave them a warm welcome, but made hamburgers for them as they thawed out. The girls spent the night sleeping in the wooden booths.

Wagnerís Hamburger Shop across the street stayed open as usual, and Eva Wagner remembers what a busy place it was after people were due out the following day.

The adventurous waitresses werenít the only ones out in the storm and away from home. Wink Moen, a manager of the first bowling alleys in Forest Lake, attempted to walk home about 6:30 p.m. He got as far as the railroad tracks and changed his mind because of the thigh-high drifts and poor visibility. He returned to the alleys. The pin setters and Vic Berger, Herb Dupre and Wink slept that night in chairs in the locker room. The bowling alleys were located in the present Worth Furniture Store.

Thurnbeck Turkey Farm

West of Forest Lake at the Thurnbeck farm, workers were busy dressing turkeys for the Thanksgiving market on this sunny morning in November. When they became aware of the rain, the sudden drop in temperature, and the wind-whipped snow, they used a tractor and wagon to pick up the live turkeys out on the range. As the snow deepened, they used horses and a sleigh to pick up buried live and frozen turkeys. They put them in every available shed and building on the farm and even brought them into the basements of their homes. Fortunately the Rural Electric Association was working, so they had a big yard light to guide them.

Some of the turkeys froze to death when their rain-coated feathers turned to ice. Some died because the wind blew so hard that the fine snow and ice blew into their nostrils and they suffocated.

People helping people is the way it is in emergencies, and friends and neighbors like Barney Boehm and drivers from Houle Elevator pitched in to help the Thurnbecks.

Thurnbecks lost about 2000 of their flock, which was quite a loss to sustain just after starting the business in 1931. George Thurnbeck said the turkey farms of today have big pole buildings for the turkeys, which they didnít have at that time.

Frank Quigley farm

Sometimes things work out for the best, as in the Quigley case. Frank went to town early in the morning to have corn ground for cattle feed. Returning home he intended to put his cattle across the road to pasture, but he said he hesitated for awhile because it started to mist. Soon there was rain and hard pellets of sleep falling. He put the cattle in the barn in time to avert having them outside when the blizzard hit.

Quigleys did not have electricity on the farm, so they simply turned the kerosene lights up higher. Fortunately they had plenty of wood for the stove and an ample supply of food including Ann Quigleyís homemade bread. They were in fine shape to wait out the storm.

Forest Lake hunters

From the early settler days on, it seems the majority of Forest Lake men were hunters. Hunting fever seemed to be handed down from grandfather, to father, to son. In the area there was always a plentiful supply of wild game to be shot for the dining room table, with perhaps pheasant, duck and deer the most popular. Our local hunters were enjoying the 1940 hunting season as usual, and they remember with detail, hunting on Armistice Day 50 years ago. Here are some of their stories.

Four local hunters, Tom Ersfeld, Willard Houle, Herb Dupre and Dick Valenty chose that day to go to Little Coon Lake to hunt ducks. When it started to rain and turn colder, Ersfeld and Dupre went back to Forest Lake for more warm clothes and more shells (the ducks were really flying). As the weather became progressively worse in town, they put chains on the car, picked up snow shovels and extra clothes. They returned to the hunting spot, where they found their friends huddled in the brush trying to keep out of the wind.

The fellows had had ìgood shootingî, so they picked up the ducks and started to drive home. When the car got stuck, they shoveled and pushed. Around every corner the shovel and push scene repeated itself.

About 5 p.m. they got bogged down in the middle of the road in front of Interstate Lumber Co., and the car stayed there for a couple of days. It was at this point they realized how bad that storm was and how lucky they were to be back in town.

Houle walked across the road and closed the mill as the drivers were at Thurnbecks helping with the turkeys. Willardís father, Ed Houle, also out hunting that day, was stranded at Frank Boehmís farm in Columbus. Hunters in that area found refuge in farm homes and barns.

Mike Casey recalls what a great day it was for hunting. So many ducks around. He and game farm co-workers, Merle Anderson, Don Warner, Ed Larson and Harold Westby, decided about 1 p.m. to go hunting so they took off in Caseyís 1939 Buick. While they were out there, they hunted next to other local hunters ìalong the line.î

The hunters that afternoon saw a sight that was almost unbelievable. It was unforgettable. The ducks with their instinct of looking for shelter in a storm, flew in, in droves. They came in over the trees and dipped down low. They were coming from all directions and flying at four or five different levels against the fierce wind and snow. The hunters saw big green headed mallards hover in the air with their wings spread, actually flying backwards.

They chose the biggest and best ducks, of course. It was a thrill of a hunterís lifetime.

With the storm growing in intensity, they told everyone to leave. Nobody wanted to go, but the game farm fellows insisted. The heavy ë39 Buick was a good car for this situation, but they did their share of pushing out of drifts. Casey said another 20 minutes ìon the lineî and they would not have made it back to the game farm.

Bob Waltze, a student at Forest Lake High School, was looking forward to a long weekend of hunting with his uncle Buford Olson at Coon Lake.

As a young hunter he encountered experiences that he will always remember. He remembers the wind blew so hard that he couldnít row the boat away from shore. He saw a strange sight along the shoreline, the tall grass, bent over in the wind, formed a tunnel and ducks found refuge in there.

Hunting was good, but soon the extreme cold caused a problem. The paper around the shells froze in the barrel, and when he pulled the trigger, the gun jammed. As he poked a stick in the barrel to loosen the shell the stick broke off and that was the end of hunting for the day. Actually, it was an act of providence, forcing him to leave the hunting grounds while he was still able to return to his uncleís home. How fortunate that all the Forest Lake hunters survived. There was a total of 59 persons in the state who died in the storm. The majority were hunters.

Sheltering travelers

When Lee Vogel, employed at Hendricksonís Cafe Bar and Hotel, arrived for work Tuesday morning, he found people sleeping on the floor in the Spanish Room (a private dining room). People were stretched out in the booths of the restaurant and, of course, all the hotel rooms were filled. Mrs. Hendrickson and her crew kept the big coffee urn going and fed the unexpected guests in her cafe during this storm. The hotel was located on the corner of the present Quon Yee site. The Commercial Hotel also was filled with stranded travelers, (presently Roseís on Main).

In todayís story, Iíve attempted to recall for our readers ìthe way it wasî during the Armistice Day Blizzard 50 years ago. Young people, take the time to listen to the interesting stories of this memorable storm from the generation who lived it.

My children laughed at my ìstorm story.î My father sent me home with the car about 4 p.m. from the store. As I tried to turn off North Shore Drive into our driveway, I got stuck, of course. It so happened that the car window on the drivers side had a problem and would not roll up. The car filled up with snow. Icicles hung from the steering wheel. When the snow plow finally came by the next day, it completely buried the old ë33 Chev.

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