Posted: 5/21/03

In the early 1900s, FL ëlaw and orderí unfolds

(Editorís Note: The following Reflections column was first published on September 28, 1989 and is reprinted here as part of the newspaperís on-going coverage during its 100th year. This column and future Reflections columns are in tribute to the author who died on Friday, Feb. 7, 2003.)

Elsie Vogel
Historical feature writer

When I hear the phrase ìlaw and order,î I immediately think of Marshall Matt Dillon or Wyatt Earp riding into town, asserting their authority, and after a few ìshoot ëem upsî the outlaws are chased out of town.

Forest Lake also had its elected marshals, and I think their ìlaw and orderî story is a colorful one.

Our story begins many decades ago, a time so very different from today. I also will include stories and remembrances of the men who ìkept the peace.î

Early Forest Lake

In the early 1900s, there must have been many nights when it was a lonely job for the marshal as he patrolled along the wooden sidewalks of the main street.

As nightfall descended, the marshal performed one of his jobs, lighting the ornamental kerosene lamps, a task he did not have to do on moonlit nights.

No doubt it was much livelier on summer Saturday nights when the workers from the wire grass camps came to town. The saloons did a good business as they were among the social centers.

This also was the season when summer visitors stayed at the local hotels, like the Euclid, Fabels and Forest Home, to mention a few. Iím sure the marshal looked in at the dances at the Modern Woodman Hall above Youngs Hardware store. This was a time when Lake Street with the business district on both sides of the street.

Nels Kloster

From 1905, intermittently for 20 years, Marshal Nels Kloster was a familiar figure in his uniform. He was also a Washington County deputy for 22 years.

His granddaughter, Mrs. Marion (Norton) Taylor, remembers some of the following incidents that her grandfather talked about.

About 9 p.m. he would check the doors of the J.L. Simmons Dry Goods store, the meat market, Houleís Grocery and other business places down the street to make certain their doors were locked; many times he found one open.

On cold, blustery winter nights, he would warm himself by the coal burning fire in the Walker Lumber Yard office, which was closed for the night. With a twinkle in his eye he would justify this by saying he was watching the bank on the other side of the street - in case of bank robbers. A portion of Town Square occupies the previous lumber yard site. Meeting the ìmid-night trainî from St. Paul also was something that had to be done. Occasionally a companionless local lady arrived by train, and he would escort her safely to her home. In 1915 Kosterís $50 a month salary was raised to $60.

Frank Tourville - Walter Peoples

As Mrs. Myrtle (Roy) Bixby, who resides on Broadway and NW 3rd St., watches the traffic and notices the local police cars, with lights flashing, speed down Broadway on their mission, whatever it may be, she is, no doubt, reminded of her father, Frank Tourville, who also was one of our village policemen about 1912-15.

Bixby has a picture of her father dressed in his uniform, which was a good blue serge suit, and she recalls her mother sewed several gold colored buttons on the suit to make it a more official uniform.

Myrtle laughs about a remembered story of another village policeman of that era - Walter Peoples. It seems Peoples preferred warming up on frosty nights at the train depot (his job was to keep the fire going all night for passengers).

On this particular night, several men with bank robbery in mind, overwhelmed him, tied him up, put an apple in his mouth and locked him in a boxcar parked on the siding before they proceeded to rob the bank that was located in the building presently occupied by Dr. Ceman. The following morning he was discovered by Frank Tourville who was attracted by noise from the box car. Fortunately Tourville was at the station to catch the early morning train into St. Paul.

First Motorized Policeman-1915

Ohmer Belanger brought a change from ìwalking the beatî to a new style... patrolling the streets with a motorcycle!

Researching village records

Village ordinances sometimes can be amusing. In 1908 council passed an ordinance prohibiting persons under 16 years old from loitering in public places in the village of Forest Lake between the hours of 9 p.m. and 5 a.m., unless accompanied by a parent or custodian.

Any parents permitting this were liable to a fine not less than $5 or more than $20, or imprisonment at Stillwater for not more than 20 days.

In 1919 - no person shall race any horse, mare or mule through the streets faster than five miles an hour. Conviction and fine not exceeding $25 nor less than $2.

In the 1916 village election, Kloster and Peoples each received 193 votes and A.A. Daigle, resort owner, received 191 votes for justice of the peace.

Justice of the peace

This once familiar elective office in old Forest Lake has disappeared from the ballot, but for a few moments let us recall a few of our justices and their duties.

Perhaps the best remembered justices of the peace would be H.E. Driese and O.A. Westin. In addition to his legal duties, Driese was our local cigar maker.

We werenít exactly a ìmarrying townî per se, but many couples came to Forest Lake to be united in marriage by our justices with local people serving as witnesses.

Not all of these marriages had rosy beginnings. I recall one happy couple that stopped in our restaurant to celebrate this important event just performed by one of our justices of the peace... suddenly the couple had a quarrel, the bride took the next bus back to St. Paul and left the groom in Forest Lake! We often wondered if they ever got back together to celebrate their golden wedding.

The justices of the peaceís main duty was to level fines and deal out jail sentences to the culprits brought before their court.

Westin, well versed in law, will perhaps be remembered by many residents as using several phrases. After some unbelievable pranks by our young local fellows he could be heard to say his favorite expression (with a Swedish accent) ìJudas Priest, whoever heard of such a ting,î and he meant it when he ìGave ëem the Maximum.î

Local people will no doubt remember paying the legal representatives 35 cents to obtain their drivers license. No tests were required then, just the 35 cents.

Jail

It was just a small brick building, but the iron bars were sturdy. There was a lock on the outside door and inside there was one cell with a padlock. I donít recall hearing of any escapes, because this was usually a temporary place for someone to ìsleep it offî: or heal up after a good fight down the street on Saturday night. It was also a shelter for vagrants. This former jail was located on the land of our city complex, facing NW Second Ave.

Moonshine and gangsters

The 18th Amendment of 1919 prohibiting the sale of beer and liquor, brought a new kind of time to our country.

Deprived of their favorite beverages, many otherwise law-abiding citizens turned to making ìhome-brewî in their kitchens and basements. Having a favorite bootlegger would be considered a ìstatus symbolî by todayís standards. The making, selling and distributing of illegal spirits fostered the gangster era.

Chicago gangsters were known to rent cottages in White Bear Lake and in our surrounding area. One of our local ladies remembers that Dillinger rented one of the Rutherford cottages at Big Marine Lake.

ìBaby Face Nelsonî also rented a neighboring cottage for his family and my informant, living near there, used to play with his two little girls. The big trucks loaded with illegal whiskey used an old road nearby and nobody dared stop them.

The infamous ìMaî Barker and her gang occupied one of the cottages behind our Forest Theatre. Several gangsters were known to occupy the Smith cottages on the east side of our lake.

Carryle Banta, one of our local milk men at that time, recalls delivering milk to one of the Smith cottages occupied by a Mr. Devers, nicknamed ìBubbling Over Devers,î who turned out to be a ìwanted jewel thief.î As federal agents closed in, Devers escaped, and the agents tore the cottage apart trying to find the jewels, but there were none to be found.

One evening, the late Dr. George Ruggles was forced, at gunpoint, from his home to his office. There under duress, he was forced to remove a bullet from one of the Barker-Karpis gang members.

Local police were quite tolerant of bootlegging in our area. The FEDS, more or less, had jurisdiction over these operations as they tried to put a stop to the illegal making of whiskey. The 18th Amendment was repealed February 1933.

Kidnappings

In 1933 William Hamm, a St. Paul brewer, was kidnapped off a street in St. Paul by members of the Barker-Karpis gang. The kidnapping made headlines for quite a time before the family paid a reported ransom of $100,000. He was released near Wyoming, one mile north on Goodview Ave. Upon his release, Lu Heim (Shipstead), local telephone operator took the call from him asking her to contact his family.

The kidnapping of Hamm put fear in another St. Paul family, the Bremers, who realized this could also happen to them.

Art Forsberg, Forest Lake, worked for one of the Bremers, Paul Bremers, at their summer home here in Forest Lake (presently Tom Ersfeld residence). Forsberg remembers that during this time the FBI staked out the Bremer house for awhile in case there would be a kidnapping threat there. After the FBI left, Mrs. Bremer insisted that Forsberg carry a 22 pistol to protect her two daughters. When you think of it, a 22 pistol might not have been the best weapon if confronted with ìTommy Guns.î

Six months later, Edward Bremer, St. Paul, was kidnapped for a ransom of $200,000, which I believe was paid for his release.

This was the climate of an era that will always be remembers by the generation that live it.

Names for posterity

There was a succession of marshals or constables, in addition to Kloster according to the village records during the late 1920s: A.W. Johnson, N. OíDonnell, O.H. Peterson, Charles Kannady, Eric Berggren, Ray Elmstrom and Nels Berglin.

Death of a marshal

Six gun shots, one man killed and five men who would always remember a few terrifying minutes. The scene of the ìshoot-outî took place April 12, 1932 in the Standard Station on the corner of Highway 61 and SE Second Ave., (now replaced by Broadway Video).

Nels Berglin, night marshall, stopped in the station that spring evening just to have a little conversation with friends before going on night duty. There was T.M. Houle, Sigurd Sirer, a salesman, Idor Pederson and Oscar Olson. Morris Olson was in the washroom removing grease from his hands.

Pederson, owner of the station, recalls for us what happened that day. A black 1929 Ford pulled up to the pumps for gas. There were three young fellows in the car, and they bought $1 worth of gas. He took their money and walked in to the station. Two of the men followed him in and with guns drawn said, ìThis is a stickup, lay down on the floor, we mean business.î

Houle received a fist to the jaw when he didnít lay down fast enough. Pederson started to obey when the shooting began. Police officer Berglin, seated on a stool, had begun removing a glove from his right hand so he could use his revolver, but the robbers fired four shots at the marshall.

Berglin did fire two shots. With the first shot, Berglin fell backwards on top of Pederson, who felt they would all be shot. The noise in that small room was deafening. Morris Olson had just stepped out of the washroom when the robbers entered; he also quickly hit the floor. Morris always thought that Berglin felt it was his duty to stop the robbery even against those odds.

After the shooting, one fellow said, ìLetís get the hell out of here.î They quickly got in the car and drove off.

Pederson opened Berglinís coat and found he was bleeding from the chest. Dr. J.A. Poirier was called, and he pronounced Berglin dead at the scene.

The robbers gained nothing and left a dead policeman behind. Later these men were involved in further robberies, captured and were identified by Pederson. Berglin was an unmarried man, and he left a community saddened by his untimely death.

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