The Solar Eclipse of 1954

by Jacob Dalland

Total solar eclipses are always an amazing and memorable phenomenon to witness, and millions travel to see them. Some of you are most likely traveling to see the one coming soon on April 8th. However, Scott County residents and many other Minnesotans did not have to travel at all to see the one that happened on June 30th, 1954, and perhaps some of you remember that one.

That day, the Moon’s shadow started its race across the globe in Nebraska, where the Sun rose dark. Indeed, all who were living in the American part of the path had to get up early to see the eclipse at totality (that is, when the Moon covered the entire Sun). The Moon’s shadow moved northeast across parts of South Dakota and Iowa before entering Minnesota.

This photo featured in Shakopee Valley News shows a sequence of images from the solar eclipse.

Many Scott County residents did indeed get up early to see the eclipse. It was a clear and comfortably cool morning (Minneapolis was at 62 °F at the time, according to weather almanacs). Some got in their cars and went to high ground to get a good view of the Sun low on the horizon. Smoked glass and negative film were apparently the most common materials people used to observe the eclipse’s progress. Lots of photographers brought out their cameras as well to capture the moment in both black-and-white and color photos as well as some movies.

A photo of a solar eclipse from Leroy Lebens' collection. Unless Leroy traveled for a different eclipse, this photo is likely from the June 30, 1954 solar eclipse.

Totality lasted around two minutes. Some observers in Jordan even timed the length of totality with a stopwatch. Overall, Scott County residents got to experience “nature’s top show”, as the New Prague Times put it. As happens today, visitors from far outside the eclipse path came to see the event.

The total solar eclipse of 1954 was the first “since the white man came to Shakopee”, as the Shakopee Tribune put it. Indeed, the last total solar eclipse in today’s Scott County that happened before 1954 would have been in 1205, which indigenous peoples would have seen assuming the sky was clear. The next total solar eclipse in Scott County will be in 2099; perhaps some young readers will see that one.

Shakopee residents watch the eclipse in progress through smoked glass and other methods of sunlight filtration, while others pose for the camera.

In general, the total solar eclipse of June 30, 1954 was observed under great conditions and became a fun memory for all who saw it. So went the first total solar eclipse in this area’s recorded history.

References

Espenak, Fred. “JavaScript Solar Eclipse Explorer for North America”. Eclipsewise.com: Predictions for Solar and Lunar Eclipses. Last modified January 17, 2015. https://eclipsewise.com/solar/JSEX/JSEX-NA.html.

Espenak, Fred. “Solar Eclipse Prime Page: Solar Eclipse of 1954 Jun 30”. Eclipsewise.com: Predictions for Solar and Lunar Eclipses. Last modified March 3, 2022. https://eclipsewise.com/solar/SEprime/1901-2000/SE1954Jun30Tprime.html.

“Fort Snelling, MN Weather History”. Weather Underground. Accessed March 12, 2024. https://www.wunderground.com/history/daily/us/mn/minneapolis/KMSP/date/1954-6-30.

Lebens, Leroy. “Solar Eclipse Copy” (photograph). Negative film. 2017.020.8697.

“Perfect Weather at Jordan for Great Solar Eclipse”. Jordan Independent, July 1, 1954, p. 1.

“This Area Treated to Total Eclipse Yesterday Morning”. New Prague Times, July 1, 1954, p. 1.

“This Is What They Saw”. Shakopee Valley News, July 1, 1954, p. 1.

The "Boiling Springs" of Savage

by Jacob Dalland

In a not-so-busy part of Savage, Minnesota, Eagle Creek widens out into an almost circular pool. A visitor’s first impression might be that it is a peaceful and quiet place, where Eagle Creek almost seems to rest before moving onward to its mouth on the Minnesota River. If by chance, however, a visitor comes at the right time or sticks around long enough, the water will ripple, gurgle, and even shoot upward a few feet. This is not a geyser, but a unique Maka Yusota, or otherwise known by English-speakers as Boiling Springs.

Maka Yusota is a Dakota phrase, coming from the word for “earth” (maka) and “to make muddy or roil up” (yusota). For centuries, the Dakota people have revered this as a sacred place, where the water spirit Unktehi resides. One oral tradition has it that Eagle Creek got its name from when an eagle flew out from the springs and turned into Buffalo Calf Woman, who guided the Dakota people also from the springs with the Sacred Pipe. The Dakota leader, Eagle Head had a village here for many years, and was formally vacated in 1853 as part of the 1851 treaty at Mendota. Apart from the exodus story in the Dakota oral traditions, Maka Yusota has also had sacred significance as a kind of oracle. One story tells of how in 1858 a warrior came to the springs and speared one of twelve lumps of earth pushed up to the water’s surface, which immediately seemed to bleed. This was interpreted to signify an imminent battle. The Battle of Shakopee, fought between the Dakotas and Ojibwes, occurred soon afterward.

By the time the Battle of Shakopee happened, the Dakota people no longer had the exclusive right to live on the land, and farmers were soon homesteading in the area. A French grape farmer briefly owned the land first in the early 1850s in what was then Glendale Township. In 1855, Gregor Hattenberger bought the farm and improved upon the grape vineyard. He also built and operated a grist mill and made wine from the grapes. A farmhouse was built only about 300 feet feet from the springs in the 1870s.

A close-up image of Boiling Springs in action, from a postcard in the 1910s. Scott County Historical Society.

The Hattenberger family, knowing that the Boiling Springs were not only sacred to the Dakotas but also unusual in their own right, soon opened up that part of their property to visitors of all backgrounds. By the turn of the century, Boiling Springs was essentially a privately owned park. Trees were cleared to make a trail and a picnic grounds, and visitors could watch the springs bubble from behind a fence. Back then, the springs bubbled constantly rather than sporadically. Before the fence was put up, an occasional cow or horse would die from sinking in the quicksand of the springs. The way the springs “boil” is thought to be from sand settling at the bottom, clogging the opening of the springs, and then erupting upward after the water pressure of the springs is great enough. Then the process would repeat.

This color postcard shows how park-like Boiling Springs used to be. Despite being located in Glendale Township (now Savage), postcards often mislabeled the location as Shakopee. Scott County Historical Society.

The heyday of tourism at Boiling Springs seems to have been the first half of the 20th century. Photographic postcards of Boiling Springs were being made and sold in the 1910s especially. Every now and then, articles advertising Boiling Springs as a “natural wonder” would appear in local newspapers. Three generations of Hattenbergers hosted visitors to the site: Gregor, Alexander, and Alois. The Hattenbergers offered homemade wine, replaced by ice cream and candy in the ‘20s through ‘40s.

After Alois Hattenberger died in 1953, his cousin Herb Hirscher ran the farm and continued to provide hospitality to visitors. During the Hirscher years, the springs started to quiet down, possibly due to a lower water table. Therefore, the springs started to lose attention, though people could picnic there as late as 1959. Dakota pilgrims never ceased to visit during the Hirscher years, either. That being said, tourism was definitely on the decline at Boiling Springs from the ‘60s through ‘80s. The Hirschers commented in 1985 that Boilling Springs “was lovely in its day.”  Herb died in 1986, leaving his wife to run the farm for a time. The Hirschers hoped that after they were gone, Boiling Springs would be preserved by the Minnesota Historical Society or some other public entity.

The Hirschers’ and more importantly the Dakota people’s hopes of conserving Boiling Springs were put to the test in 1994. That year, Lucille Hirscher sold her farm to Klaas van Zee, a developer for the City of Savage. Almost immediately, a struggle ensued between members of the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community and environmental advocates on one side and real estate developers on the other. There was a very real threat that the construction of a new suburban neighborhood on the site would not only ruin Boiling Springs and the Dakota burial sites around it, but also threaten the habitat of brown trout (whose Eagle Creek habitat was one of the last in the Twin Cities) and many other animals. After a year of petitions and debates, the two sides essentially compromised. The City of Savage was allowed to build a suburban neighborhood on some of the former Hirscher farm, but the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources bought all the land within 200 feet of Eagle Creek to preserve as an Aquatic Management Area. The old farmhouse was unfortunately outside of this zone, and was subjected to a deliberate burn to test new firefighting equipment in 1997. Boiling Springs, on the other hand, continues to be conserved in its natural state by the DNR and has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places since 2003.

Today, Boiling Springs lies within a grove of trees, almost concealed from the view of the houses nearby. Apart from minor trails made by the tread of occasional visitors’ feet, nobody would ever know the springs were widely visited in the past. Maka Yusota, Boiling Springs, is nonetheless one of the most significant places in all of Scott County.

References

Bloomberg, Britta. “Recent Additions to the National Register of Historic Places”. Minnesota Preservation Planner 14, no. 2 (Spring 2003): 2.

“Boiling Springs” (postcard).

“Boiling Springs, Hattenberger’s Farm, Shakopee, Minn.” (postcard).

“Boiling Springs Natural Wonder”. Shakopee Tribune, November 5, 1925, 3.

“Boiling Springs, Natural Wonder of Area, Reopened for Picnickers”. Shakopee Valley News, June 18, 1959, p. 1.

“Boiling Springs Near Shakopee Termed Unusual Phenomenon”. New Prague Times, November 25, 1925, p. 1.

Brewer, Joseph W., to Heald, John. “Comment Statement: Alternative Urban Areawide Review for Savage Fen, Eagle Creek, and Boiling Springs Development”. November 7, 1994.

Durand, Paul. Where the Waters Gather and the Rivers Meet: An Atlas of the Eastern Sioux. Faribault: Paul Durand, 1994, 44.

“Hattenberger Rites Monday”. Shakopee Argus Tribune, September 10, 1953, p. 1.

“Herbert A. Hirscher”. Shakopee Valley News, July 2, 1986, p. 6.

Hirscher, Herb and Lucille. “Boiling Springs”. In As I Remember Scott County, 1980.

Kaszuba, Mike. “Old Farmhouse in Savage Runs out of Time – and Luck”. Star Tribune, November 30, 1997, p. B1.

“Remember When...” Savage Pacer, February 19, 2005, p. 5.

Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. “MA-KA YU-SO-TA (Boiling Springs)”. September 2000.

Simonson, Beverly. “Savage Woods Once Echoed with Sounds of Legendary Springs”. Prior Lake American, October 19, 1977, p. 3.

Florence Martin and Research Rabbit Holes

While researching, particularly when it comes to building histories or genealogies, I often get side tracked and end up down what I call a research rabbit hole. Today I want to share the findings of one of these trips down a Belle Plaine research rabbit hole I recently took.

As someone who is new to the community, one way I enjoy learning about the past is simply going down Main Street and seeing how things have changed. When asked, my favorite research tool is hands-down the Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps. Belle Plaine is one of the communities in Scott County which had these maps completed. You can find them on the Library of Congress’ website, if you feel like nerding out like I did.

The Triangle Motor Company in 1923. Scott County Historical Society.

I noticed that a business located on the southwest corner of East Main Street and South Chestnut Street had been a livery and then later the Triangle Motor Company. This sparked my interest as it had changed from one mode of transportation to another. That’s another story for another day. Next I wondered who owned this livery and what was their story?

Wilson Martin grew up in St. Lawrence and then Jordan. His father was a farmer and he had many siblings. In 1889, Wilson married Elvira Irwin (the daughter of a local attorney) and the couple lived in Belle Plaine. By the 1900 census, Wilson and Elvira had two daughters; Florence and Frances. Wilson listed his occupation as liveryman. In 1905 his occupation changed to Vet Surgeon and then in 1910 he listed his occupation as veterinarian. In 1920, the family had moved to the Snelling Hamline neighborhood of St. Paul, where Wilson was working in Real Estate and Frances was listed under the name Frances Snow, married (though no husband was on the census record).        

Photograph of Frances Martin in 1896. The little girl standing behind Frances may be her sister, Florence. Scott County Historical Society.

Although there were two daughters, we are going to focus on Florence for this story. Florence was born in 1892 and grew up in Belle Plaine. The 1910 census lists Florence’s occupation as a teacher at the public school. We have a few photographs of Florence in the collection, including one of her as part of the Hiker’s Club.

Later census records note that Florence completed three years of college. she likely was in college at the time of the 1920 census when the family lived in St. Paul, as no occupation was listed. Florence married Joseph Houck in 1922. Here’s where the story gets exciting.

Four generations of women. They are, from left to right, Eunice Chatfield, Elvira Martin, and Cecilia Chatfield Irwin. Elvira holds baby Florence in her lap. Scott County Historical Society.

By 1930, the couple had moved out to Los Angeles where Joseph owned an advertising agency and was known as a pioneer in public utility car advertising. The couple lived at 1825 N. Kingsley Dr., which is still there today (you can search the address online and be able to do a street view of the building). It was near Hollywood Boulevard. Other residents in the apartment building included actors and actresses, directors, and musicians for motion pictures. In 1937, Florence found work as a hotel clerk and by 1942 according to Joseph’s draft card, they were living in what is today known as Castle Argyle in Los Angeles (another apartment building).

Joseph died in 1949 and was buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Los Angeles. Although Florence and Joseph never had children together, Joseph had a son from a first marriage. His son, who went by his middle name of Curtis, found work as a musician in a dance orchestra and then followed his father’s footsteps and worked in advertising in Los Angeles.

In 1950, Florence married William Crawford. William died in 1960, but beyond that we lose Florence’s trail. From growing up in rural Minnesota, the daughter of a liveryman to becoming a public school teacher and then getting married and moving out to an apartment off Hollywood Boulevard to then disappearing in the records….what a story! If you know the rest of Florence’s story we would love to know!

By Lindsay Marshall, Executive Director

This is My Life: Beatrice Zweber Remembers Getting Married in 1919

This blog series is adapted from a memoir by Beatrice Zweber Mahowald of New Market. Her grandson, Pat Mahowald, compiled her autobiography with photographs and family research. Beatrice took over the household management on her family’s farm at age 15, after the death of her mother and the marriages of her older sisters. It has been slightly edited from the original for clarity. Part I can be read here ,Part II is here, and Part III is here.

My husband’s father [Nicholas Mahowald] died December 1911. He was the first person to be buried from our new church at New Market on December 22, 1911, so in 1912 the Mahowald family moved to New Market. My husband was seventeen years old then. George used to work with his father when he wasn’t in school. His father did cement work, so George went on with his father’s trade.

George supported his widowed mother, sisters, and brothers till two weeks before we were married. His mother said he could keep the last two weeks wages before the wedding, and I’m sure that wasn’t a big check. There were nine living children in the Mahowald family. George was the second oldest.

A few weeks before the wedding, I went to Holm and Olson’s in St. Paul and ordered all my flowers. My bride’s bouquet, the bridesmaid bouquets, the men’s flowers, the lily for the ringbearer, and the basket of flowers for the flower girl. I paid for them and told them to mail them on the noon train to Elko, Minn. on June 16th, the day before my wedding. My brother went to meet the train, but there weren’t any flowers left off. We thought they would come on the evening train, so my brother Alex went back to the depot. That train arrived at 7:30 PM and there were still no flowers. He came back and he was really afraid to tell me, so we telephoned to Holm and Olson’s. I don’t know how we even go ahold of them at night, but they said they had mailed out the flowers on the noon train on June 16th. They said if someone would come to St. Paul and get the flowers they would make up a new order and have them ready at midnight. I would have to sign a paper saying that I didn’t get the flowers. because they were going to trace them.

I went to bed but I didn’t sleep. I cried all night. The next morning when I came downstairs my cousin was already working in the dining room, and she said look at the beautiful carnations they sent along extra because they knew you felt bad. Holm and Olson wrote me a letter after the wedding and they said the flowers went to Ecko, Minn. instead of Elko, Minn. I never did find out if the flower shop put on the wrong address or if the railroad made the mistake.

Beatrice and George’s wedding party. Image courtesy of Pat Mahowald.

On June 17, 1919 I was married in New Market Catholic Church by Father Siebert. My cousin Margaret Zweber was bridesmaid, my cousin Sue Zweber was maid of honor, my brother Alex and Anton Mahowald were best men. My niece Helen Hauer was flower girl and my nephew Wilfred Zweber was ring bearer. I was twenty-one years old and my husband was twenty-four when we married.

It was on a Tuesday, a nice sunny day. In the afternoon there was a storm all around us, but it didn’t rain at New Market. We had a very small wedding, we only invited my husband’s mother, his brothers and sisters, my brothers and sisters and their families for dinner and supper at the house. There waere also three uncles and five aunts. My friends waited on table.

In the evening we had a very large crowd at the free wedding dance. The Metropolitan Band from Minneapolis played for our dance from nine o’clock in the evening till four o’clock in the morning. This band cost us sixty dollars. The dance was in the New Market town hall. Most of the crowd stayed till the band went home. So, it was almost morning when we got home. I got about an hour and a half of sleep before I had to get up and make breakfast and get the house cleaned up after the wedding. There was a lot to clean.

We didn’t go on a honeymoon. People didn’t go on a honeymoon those days. We didn’t even have time to have our wedding picture taken until the second day. We had our picture taken at St. Paul. We drove with two cars because there were quite a few of us.

The third day after my wedding I washed clothes all day. The boys took my pictures while I was hanging up the wash. I had sheets, tablecloths, and lines and lines of clothes and such large pieces. I have pictures of my wash in my album.

A short time before my wedding, Dad said, “Why don’t you stay here and work for us? We have to get someone and you might as well stay.” He offered me a dollar a day. I stayed and worked just like I always did, canning, cooking for threshers and silo fillers, for company, and everything that came along. George did cement work in summer but in winter 1919 he sawed wood with a man, they would saw fire wood for farmers. I’m sure he didn’t earn much money for that.

Beatrice and Aelred. Image courtesy of Pat Mahowald.

I worked at home for eleven months till May 1920. Then we moved to Lakeville because we were building a house there. It was to be ready the later part of August, and I was expecting my first child. He was born September 2, 1920. The doctor said he weighed ten pounds, but he guessed that because the doctor didn’t carry a scale. We named him Aelred Alexander.

This is My Life: Beatrice Zweber Remembers Her Brother's Life with Tuberculosis

This blog series is adapted from a memoir by Beatrice Zweber Mahowald of New Market. Her grandson, Pat Mahowald, compiled her autobiography with photographs and family research. Beatrice took over the household management on her family’s farm at age 15, after the death of her mother and the marriages of her older sisters. It has been slightly edited from the original for clarity. Part I can be read here and Part II is here.

My brother Herman went to school all his life. He would spend the summer working on the farm but in fall he would go back to school. When he graduated from St. Thomas College at St. Paul he won a gold medal for being the best chemist in his class.

After college my brother went to Chicago where he entered the university medical school. He was learning to be a doctor. He went to Chicago with Dr. Casey (a local physician) and his family. He stayed at the same apartment house where they stayed.

My brother didn’t feel good that fall, but my dad did take him to our doctor and he was alright when he left. In spring, we had a letter from Dr. Casey and he said Herman was sick and went to a doctor. That doctor said he had tuberculosis and would have to leave school. It was a great shock to all of us.

Zweber family in 1913. Beatrice sits in the carriage. Herman sits in the grass on the far right. Scott County Historical Society

He was a very sick boy when he came home and had a lot of very sick spells during the years he lived. He was very good about it. He knew there wasn’t any cure for him. He was in the doctor’s care all the time. Dr. Kennedy was a good friend of my brother Herman. Well, it was a good thing that he was learning to be a doctor so he knew how to take care of himself and also to take care of us that had to live with and around him. He slept alone and used his own dishes and silver, his own towels and dishtowels, but it was still dangerous for us kids and Herman thought maybe if he would go west it would be better for his health. He went to Mount Angel, Oregon again. He didn’t stay there too long, but was gone long enough that my dad could buy insurance policies for me and my brothers at home. Then Herman came home and he wanted to live alone so he moved in the grainery upstairs (which was once a house) so that he had a big room. He would come in our house for his meals but he always ate alone. He would spread newspapers over the kitchen table, then he would spread out his own dishes and silver. I always kept his food in the kitchen. We ate in the dining room. After he ate his meals he would put his dishes and silver in his dishpan and he would boil his dishes. He would gather the newspaper with the crumbs he ate and he would burn that in the stove. There was always fire in the wood stove.

Then he left again. He went to New Leipzig, North Dakota and worked in the bank for a while with our brother J.P. After that he went to St. Paul and worked for an undertaker for a while. I think he slept in the undertaker parlor - don’t know for sure.

He came home again and Dad built him a house close to our house. He used to wash his own clothes but I ironed them. None of us ever caught the disease from him. He died very suddenly of a hemorrhage on December 5, 1920. He was 29 years old. He was waked in our parlor and buried in the Catholic Cemetery on December 7th at New Market.