Jordan

“Hey, That’s My (County) Seat”: The Battle for the Heart of Scott County, Part 2

This story is written by guest blogger Charles Pederson. To write for our blog, email us at info@scottcountyhistory.org

Part 1 described the roots of the county seat controversy and the first two attempts to move the seat to Jordan. In Part 2, learn about Jordan’s continuing efforts to bring the county seat to that fair village. And prepare for a surprise plot twist.

Third Attempt to Move the County Seat: 1876

Jordan had already made two previous failed attempts to move the county seat from Shakopee to Jordan. Ever optimistic, though, Jordanites began agitating again for the county seat to move. The scheming began in early 1874, not long after the previous attempt. Jordanites wrote to John Macdonald, Minnesota senator from Shakopee. Their letter’s sentiments fit right into today’s political climate: “We deem any opposition to the passage of the bill [to move the county seat] a sure manifestation of an unwillingness to submit to the voice of the people . . . [and] a desire and intent to defraud them of their rights. . . . Should you refuse us in this request, we shall hereafter consider you unfit to hold any office of public trust.”

In 1876, a bill passed the house but not the senate. The Jordanites again had to accept defeat and gather strength for their next attempt.

Fourth Attempt: 1878

Despite their numerous unsuccessful attempts, Jordanites helped introduce another legislative bill in March 1878 to move the county seat. The motion was defeated—and the residents of Shakopee held a huge reception and party for their senate representative, who had helped defeat it. However, a measure was passed allowing both Jordan and Shakopee to issue bonds to buy land and build or improve county buildings on it. Jordanites doubtless hoped this was their chance to get the county buildings themselves. But the measure was not acted on.

Fifth Attempt: 1889

Like a cicada, the controversy lay dormant for the next eleven years before surfacing again. Shakopee’s place as the county seat seemed to have become fixed and permanent. In 1889, however, as required by Minnesota statutes, a legally recognized petition was presented to the county commissioners. Alas for Jordan, most of the members voted to disregard it, apparently ignoring their duty.

Whence the residents of Jordan got the energy to continue the fight is speculation. In 1890, though, Jordanites convinced a judge to order that the board must consider the petition, as it was legally bound to do. At a February hearing before a Minnesota Eighth Circuit Court judge, the petition was again denied. Julius Coller, a staunch Shakopee cheerleader, wrote with ill-concealed elation that this “dashed the hopes of the would-be Court House removers.”

Sixth Attempt: 1927–1929

Three decades—and a new century—later, the county needed a new courthouse. One cost estimate for a new courthouse was $160,000 (approximately $2.5 million in 2021 dollars). Commercial interests in Shakopee logically imagined that this could lead to another fight over the county seat. To head off that possibility, a private group retained an architect to look at the building. He reported that a new courthouse was not necessary, that simply updating and remodeling the existing structure would be enough. Still, his repair and remodeling estimate was $65,000—more than $1 million today. Though a hefty amount, it was far less expensive than constructing an entirely new building elsewhere (in, say, Jordan). The board accepted that estimate, but Shakopee’s dreams of peace were dashed when the town was forced anyway to defend its status as the county seat.

Each side in the controversy placed ads in local newspapers to convince voters of the righteousness of their cause. This pro-Jordan ad appeared in the Jordan Independent of June 13, 1929. Scott County Historical Society Collection.

Just as the momentum for a fight between Jordan and Shakopee—those two old contestants—was building, the rivals must have blinked in shock when a surprise contender entered the fray. A group of residents in Lydia (population 60), seven miles east of Jordan, gave notice of intention to circulate a petition to bring the new courthouse to their town, thus winning the county seat. On November 4, 1927, Lydia residents leading the charge circulated a petition to that effect. Jordan, no doubt kicking itself for being late to the show, circulated a similar petition a week later. By mid-November 1927, canvassers of both towns were busy throughout the county, asking voters to sign their petitions.

What followed was a welter of confusion and rancor. Both Lydia and Jordan met the minimum legal number of signatures for their petitions. Lydia’s eight-day head start should have guaranteed that it be considered first for the county seat move, and indeed, the state Minnesota Supreme Court upheld that view. Both sides were anxious because Minnesota law stated that an election on the question could occur only every five years. Both wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Who knew what political conditions would be like in five years?

Lydia sued to halt Jordan’s petition “on the grounds,” said Lydia banker Martin Imm, “that Lydia announced its intention of obtaining the courthouse before Jordan did and therefore is entitled to file its petition first.” The suit was denied. Lydia then filed notice of appeal all the way to the Minnesota Supreme Court. In response, a Jordan backer obtained a restraining order to halt consideration of Lydia’s petition. Ultimately, the Supreme Court decided that Lydia’s petition had precedence over Jordan’s and could be considered after all.

After all that, the state attorney general ruled that signatures in the Lydia petition were invalid. As found in the 1905 Minnesota statutes, the petition had been filed, and the county board met to decide which, if any, of the signatures to said petition [were] not genuine; and which, if any, of the signers thereof were not, at the time of signing the same, legal voters of said county; and which, if any, of the signatures thereto were not attached within sixty days preceding the filing thereof; and which, if any, of such signatures have been withdrawn.

In other words, the board decided which names on the petition were invalid. More than 700 names were withdrawn from Lydia’s petition. Coller happily reported, “The petition was subsequently rejected.” Undoubtedly with much weeping and gnashing of teeth, Lydia was knocked out of the running.

Lydia’s exit from the race left only Shakopee and Jordan. There were charges of malfeasance, dire warnings of higher taxes, and claims of prejudice against one town or the other. Jordanites claimed Shakopee was avoiding paying taxes. Shakopee replied with outraged explanations why that was untrue.

Each side sent out representatives to speak with voters, and numerous articles appeared in local newspapers, trumpeting why each town was superior to its rival.

Attempting to rouse their supporters, Jordan and Shakopee took their show on the road throughout the county, attempting to rally their supporters in towns and townships during the week leading up to the election. A feature of at least one rally “was the large number of ladies present,” as reported in the Jordan Independent. This might not seem so remarkable until one remembers that women had gained the national right to vote less than ten years previously.

The Shakopee–Jordan county seat battle culminated in a special election in June 1929. This sample ballot instructs voters how to place an X to indicate their choice. Scott County Historical Society Collection.

Finally, election day, June 15, 1929. A majority of county voters decreed that Shakopee retain the county seat: 4,428 voted to keep the county seat in Shakopee, and 2,533 to move it to Jordan. The vote included “approval of the Shakopee proposal to remodel the old courthouse instead of building new,” according to the Jordan Independent. The newspaper continued, “Shakopee was jubilant over its big victory and celebrated in happy abandon Saturday night, Sunday and on.” Church bells, car horns, fire sirens, and huge crowds distinguished the celebration.

They All Lived Happily Ever After?

This 1929 push marked the end of efforts to move the county seat from where it had been for seventy years and has remained for ninety more. Perhaps, however, Shakopee shouldn’t feel too smugly complacent. The law on changing county seats remains in the 2020 Minnesota statutes. You never knowwhen the fight may kick up again!

Further Reading

“Hey, That’s My (County) Seat”: The Battle for the Heart of Scott County, Part 1

This post was written by guest blogger Charles Pederson. If you would like to write for our blog, contact us at info@scottcountyhistory.org

People long for the “good old days” when folks got along. We may look back on the “olden days” as simpler times, but the fact is that the good old days were tough. Scott County is no exception. It featured a decades-long rivalry, complete with “palace intrigue,” that began at the foundation of Minnesota itself. The titanic struggle: to control the center of power, the county seat.

What’s the big deal with a county seat, anyway? Every time a new county is formed, a county seat is designated—and the jockeying to obtain that status can cause powerful feelings of competition among municipalities. The seat may or may not be the largest town in a county, but it is usually where county buildings and the courthouse are located. In fact, the term ‘county seat’ is a shortening of the expression ‘county seat of justice.’ The county seat provides the court system, law enforcement, and other county services. Normally, county seats are created through voting. Why has rivalry in some places escalated to physical violence, intimidation, or fraud in these county seat “wars”? Is it more than the fact that living in or near the county seat can increase property values?

New County, New County Seat

Counties (or their equivalents in other states; for example, Louisiana has parishes and Alaska has boroughs) underlie U.S. administrative organization. Typically, counties are laid out before statehood, during the territory period. Most states therefore already had counties when they entered the Union. Based on population, many early counties covered vast tracts of sparsely settled land. Those large counties filled up with settlers and were eventually broken up into smaller counties, each with its own county seat.

Scott County followed the same general trajectory. On March 5, 1853, due to increasing population, a portion of land was separated from the western edge of Dakota County to become Scott County. About a year later, five appointed county board members voted that Shakopee become the county seat and be the location of county buildings. To cement that decision, the first county court term was held in Holmes Hall, named after Thomas Holmes, one of the first permanent White settlers in the Shakopee area.

It was decided: Shakopee was the county seat. Not everyone, though, agreed with the decision. Over the next six or seven decades, some residents in Jordan resented the decision and consequent status quo. At the founding of the state, they began the first of many attempts to gain for themselves the benefits of hosting the county seat.

First Attempt to Move the County Seat: 1859

By 1856, a building had been rented in Shakopee for use as a courthouse. The next year, bonds were issued in an attempt to raise $10,000 to build a dedicated courthouse and other county structures. This was all meant to reinforce Shakopee’s location as the county seat. Accordingly, construction began, but more than a year later, the buildings still had not been completed. The money ran out. It was suggested that the county was nearly bankrupt through incompetent efforts to build the courthouse. A popular history of Scott County stated that “it was even suggested that the buildings in their incomplete state be sold . . . to discharge part of the heavy liabilities of the county.”

Residents of Jordan saw the lack of a permanent courthouse, the poorly constructed county buildings, and the perceived incompetent leadership as an opportunity to gain the county seat and its benefits for themselves. In 1859, the year following statehood, a bill was introduced in the new Minnesota legislature to move the county seat from Shakopee to Jordan. This caused panic in Shakopee, and civic leaders went into emergency mode. One historian noted that hurriedly raised private donations allowed “the unfinished buildings [to be] enclosed and the county officers located therein, although in small and inconvenient quarters. By these measures the [county seat] change was overruled and Shakopee continued as the county seat.”

The panic in Shakopee abated, but Jordan was far from satisfied with the outcome of events.

Second Attempt: 1872–1873

Discontented Jordanites again plotted to move the county seat. A legislative representative from Jordan, Joseph Chadderdon, introduced a new bill in the state legislature to move the seat to Jordan. The Scott County Mirror newspaper reported that the bill required that “within sixty days after [passage of bill, officeholders would] remove to and hold their office in the said village of Jordan.” The Mirror later ran a chart describing $10,000 that had been deposited in escrow for the move, as well as an additional $20,000 in pledges on passage of the bill. The bill passed the house and senate, but Governor Horace Austin (1870–1874) refused to sign it without further amendment. The bill was amended, and Austin supported it. Nonetheless, no records showed it advancing through the legislature.

Horace Austin, the sixth Minnesota governor, was briefly embroiled in the county seat fight. Minnesota Historical Society Collection.

Despite state inaction, a vote on the issue was set to be held in the county. One historian reported on “a vigorous contest [that] ensued, decided in favor of Shakopee by a majority of ninety-two votes” (969 in favor of moving, and 1,061 against). An opinion writer in the Mirror put a good face on the defeat by insisting that it was actually a victory: “We are just as sure to get the county seat in the next contest . . .as the sun is to rise and set.”

Check back for Part 2 of this ongoing and weirdly fascinating story. It’s full of wrinkles and surprise plot twists!

Historic Breweries of Scott County

Shakopee Brewery

The first brewery in the Minnesota River Valley, Shakopee Brewery opened in 1855. The facility was founded by H.H. Strunk (also the proprietor of Strunk Drug). Strunk owned Shakopee Brewery until, interested in other pursuits, he sold the business to Andrew Winkler in 1863, who retained ownership until his death in 1870.

After 1870, Winkler’s widow, Mary, continued to manage brewery operations. Five years later, she married a German Master Brewer named Hubert Nyssen and the two continued to run Shakopee Brewery together.

Unfortunately, the building was destroyed by fire in 1885. Fire was a huge concern in early brewing due to the dangerous combination of wood or coal heating and the dry, airborne dust produced when grain was industrially ground. Luckily, the family had enough capital to invest in rebuilding the facility. Shakopee brewery remained a fixture of the community until prohibition forced it to close in 1920.

You can still see the ruins of the brewery today, along the Minnesota River bike path, on the northwest edge of the city.

Shakopee Brewery, 1907. Photograph from the SCHS Collections

Shakopee Brewery, 1907. Photograph from the SCHS Collections

Hubert Nyssen, around 1920. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Hubert Nyssen, around 1920. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Schutz and Hilgers Jordan Brewery

The Jordan Brewery was founded in 1866. Like the Shakopee Brewery, it was started by a prominent local businessman – in this case Frank Nicolin. The structure of Jordan brewery was built to last with limestone and brick walls more then 3 feet thick. Nicolin sold the building soon after it’s opening, and in 1867 it took on the name Sand Creek Brewing, run by partners Sebastian Gehring and Frank Paier, who ran the business for almost 20 years. In 1885 they decided to sell to Peter Schutz and William Kaiser. Kaiser left the partnership, and by 1902 the facility was owned jointly by Peter Schultz and Peter Hilgers, whose names have remained with the brewery building ever since.

Like breweries around the country. Schutz and Hilgers closed in 1920, but reopened immediately upon prohibition’s repeal in 1933. At its height, Schutz and Hilgers brewed 40,000 barrels of beer annually and distributed to seven states.

In 1946 the brewery facilities were bought by Mankato Brewing Company, but they were soon forced to shut down due to financial difficulties. Finally, in 1954, the building caught fire during construction work, and nearly burned to the ground. The ruins were left vacant for many years until the city considered demolishing the property. Today, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and has been refurbished into retail property.

Schutz and Hilgers Brewery, around 1940. Photograph from the SCHS Collections.

Schutz and Hilgers Brewery, around 1940. Photograph from the SCHS Collections.

Lable from Schutz and Hilgers, around 1940. From the SCHS Collections.

Lable from Schutz and Hilgers, around 1940. From the SCHS Collections.

Kokes Brewery, New Prague

Kokes Brewry was started by brothers-in-law Thomas Kokes and Albert Minars in 1884. Kokes, like many other early brewery owners, was a prominent local businessman who also owned a general store. Located at the corner of Second Avenue NW and Fifth Street N, the brewery advertised itself as “using clear hops and malts” and having a modern “steam operated” plant. Minars left the partnership in 1887, but Kokes remained an active owner for many years. The brewery was a prominent local employer, and delivered barrels to many small communities nearby New Prague.

When prohibition hit in 1920, the facility switched to selling soft drinks and malted non-alcoholic cereal beverages. Unfortunately, this new business model was not as profitable, and the business closed in 1931. Today, the historic building houses apartments.

1891 plat map of New Prague. Kokes Brewery is marked with a black square, in the upper right-hand corner.

1891 plat map of New Prague. Kokes Brewery is marked with a black square, in the upper right-hand corner.

Schmitt Brewery, Belle Plaine

Schmitt Brewery was opened by Albert Swinger in 1860. It cost $500.00 to build, and was located Northeast of town along what came to be known (aptly) as brewery creek. In 1866, Schmitt Brewery fell victim, like many other early breweries, to a fire, and Swinger was forced to rebuild.

Ownership of the brewery fluctuated after the fire. City records list B. Osterfeldt as proprietor in 1870, but Christian Schmitt purchased the brewery in 1871.

In 1877 the building burned down yet again and was rebuilt by Schmitt. For many years, Schmitt brewery was a local business, with a capacity of 10 barrels per day. Schmitt began to expand, increasing the capacity to 500 barrels per year and starting a bottling line, but his health was failing. In 1905, Schmitt passed away, leaving the brewery to his sons. It finally closed in 1916 after being outsold by competition from larger, regional brewing facilities.

Schmitt Brewery around 1900. Photograph from the SCHS Collections.

Schmitt Brewery around 1900. Photograph from the SCHS Collections.

Written by Rose James, SCHS Program Manager

History of Mudbaden: Part 3

Looking for parts one and two? Check them out the last two blog posts!

The Mud Harvest  

Mud harvest at Mudbaden, 1915. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Mud harvest at Mudbaden, 1915. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Despite Mudbaden’s fancy new offerings, the base of the spa still rested in the mud. The sulfur-laden mud around the property was harvested each day and taken into the spa for use in treatments.  

The process was labor-intensive. First, the mud was dug out of the ground with a hand operated crane and loaded into a cart on a small rail track that was built for the sole purpose of moving mud. The cart was drawn, again by hand, into a space known as the mud room. This space featured a large mixer connected to a gas engine. The mixer broke up the mud and staff removed any vegetation or rocks that had become mixed into the muck. The mud was then heated, creating the proper temperature and consistency for curative processes.  

Mudbaden’s “Cures”  

Mens’ mudroom at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Mens’ mudroom at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

The health treatments at Mudbaden took place in “mud rooms” that were divided by gender. When patients went in for their treatment, they would be directed to mud tables. These were massive steel tables with a shallow basin on top where hot mud was placed 3-6 inched deep. As patients laid in the muck, additional mud was placed over them, covering their bodies except for their faces.  

The goal of the treatment was to sweat in the sulfur-rich air. After the mud treatment, patients were rinsed in a large tub in the center of the room, and then wrapped in blankets and given sulfur-infused water to rink to increase their sweat. Finally, they were taken to a “cooling room”, and given a massage.  

These treatments all took place in the morning, leaving the afternoons free for entertainment and relaxation.  

Did it work? 
Though Mudbaden advertised its sulfur services for many different ailments, the most common patient complaint was rheumatism, or arthritis. While the treatment would not have “cured” arthritis, heat and humidity are still used today to help control pain. There is some scattered evidence that also points to sulfur also helping with arthritis pain, but no large, well-controlled studies have ever been conducted.  

If nothing else, spending a period of time relaxing, getting daily massages, and being catered to by room service likely made many patients who suffered from chronic pain feel temporarily better.  

Still Growing 

Staff at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Staff at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Mudbaden continued to grow in size and popularity throughout the 1920s. By 1924 the facility had a medical staff of four doctors, four nurses and one lab technician, as well as three massage specialists. The medical offerings of the resort expanded, adding an x-ray machine and two operating rooms. Forty-two other employees also lived on site, harvesting mud and providing hospitality services.  

Mudbaden experienced a bit of a lag during the depression and years of World War 2. In 1948 that facility was sold again to David E Braum of Chicago. By 1950, advances in modern medicine had, to many people’s minds, rendered the services offered at Mudbaden obsolete.  

New Tenants 

On July 1st, 1952, Mudbaden closed its doors. The facility was purchased by The Sacred Heart Novitiate, and affiliate of the University of  in South Bend, Indiana. The building was occupied by postulates and used in the training of prospective Catholic priests. Trainees stayed for one year at the facility, living mostly in silence. Religious vows were taken at the end of the years, after which the novices returned to Notre Dame to continue their academic religious studies.  

In 1969 the facility changed hands again and became known as Lynnville, a rehabilitation center for alcohol addiction. In the late 1970s services expanded, offering drug treatment services as well.  

In 1985, Mudbaden was purchased by Scott County, which still owns the property today. Initially it was used as a minimum-security jail annex. Today, the former Mudbaden is known as the SCALE Regional Public Safety Training Facility. The buildings are used for training and education opportunities for Law Enforcement, Firefighters, Public Works, and other county services.  

If you have the opportunity to attend a class or visit the facility, you can still see its former glory in graceful woodwork and large airy windows. Even if you are unable to go inside, it it still worth it to drive by and see this building that was once the medical pride of Scott County! 

Written by Rose James, SCHS Program Manager

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History of Mudbaden: Part 2

The story of Mudbaden continues... Looking for part 1? Check out last week’s blog post!  

Mudbaden is Born  

In 1910 construction began on a new building at Rosendahl Sulphur Springs. This facility was 124 ft long and 24 feet wide including a porch, steam heat and hot and cold water in every room. It would accommodate up to 70 patients at one time. In 1911, as business continued to prosper, O.J. Rosendahl and Dr. Larson officially purchased the land and facilities from original owner Ole Rosendahl for $30,000. The name was again changed – this time finally, to Mudbaden Sulpher Springs 

 Destination Mudbaden  

Promotional postcard from Mudbaden from around 1915. SCHS Collections.

Promotional postcard from Mudbaden from around 1915. SCHS Collections.

Dr Larsen and O.J. Rosendahl were far more business-minded than Ole Rosendahl had been. Once they took over ownership, advertising and promotions soared. In 1910 a booklet was created and sent to every practicing physician in Minnesota, many in neighboring states, and past patients. This pamphlet heavily promoted the health benefits of sulfur mud treatments. Local newspapers were dotted with advertisements promoting the health benefits of a visit to Mudbaden – and the fun and relaxation that could be had with a vacation to the resort's modern facilities.  

 From this time on Mudbaden was promoted not only as a medical facility, but as a recreational experience and tourist destination. Along with sulfurous mud baths, Mudbaden hosted banquets, dances, parties and picnics. They even had their own baseball team.  

 In 1912 a convenient new rail station was built along the Omaha line 100 feet from the front door of Mudbaden. Trains began to run regular daily routes to and from the facility.  

Mudbaden could not have been built at a more apt time. In the early 1900s, health and science were all the rage. Cursory knowledge of germ theory and the scientific method as becoming more widespread, and the public was clamoring for new “scientific” cures that would relieve the suffering from old ailments. Not only this, but with new health practices, a greater percentage of the US population was reaching old age – meaning that Mudbaden’s advertised cures for rheumatism (arthritis) were suddenly in higher demand. In 1912, the proprietors of Mudbaden claimed that patients came from "Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, North and South Dakota as well as many other states reaching to the Pacific and Canadian provinces” 

 New Ownership and Expansion  

Mudbaden lobby around 1920, from the SCHS Collections

Mudbaden lobby around 1920, from the SCHS Collections

Dining room at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

Dining room at Mudbaden, around 1910. Photo from the SCHS Collections.

 In 1913 Dr. Larsen bought out O.J. Rosendahl’s half interest in Mudbaden and continued to build, adding new summer cottages and electric lighting. Then, in 1914, Dr. Larsen sold his interest in the sanitarium for $100,000 to a corporation organized under the name Mudbaden Sulphur Springs Company. Heading up this venture were Joseph Kehrer ( a well-known seed salesman and druggist in Jordan), E.J. Schmidt and P. G. VaBlarcom of Fond du Lac Wisconsin, and James E. McGrath.  Dr. Larsen maintained an interest.  

The new owners began plans for construction of a modern building of steel, concrete and brick at a cost of $100,000.  Patient capacity was increased to accommodate 200. With construction underway, Mudbaden was once again sold - this time to the E.G. Pauling & Co financiers of Chicago.  

 Resort 

Construction at Mudbaden, 1915. From the SCHS Collections.

Construction at Mudbaden, 1915. From the SCHS Collections.

In 1915, the new facility was completed. It was 242 feet long making the total length of the sanitarium 425 feet.  There were four steam heated sun porches and two open verandas.  The main lobby and dining room were massive, well lit halls.  The lobby boasted two fireplaces and a high ceiling beamed with quartered oak woodwork. At either end of the dining room were mullioned windows.  Diners were served from a large modern kitchen, and adjacent to the dining room was a 40x70 ft amusement hall. Though the stated purpose of Mudbaden was still “health”, the feel of the facility was more in keeping with luxury resorts of the day  

 When the new building was completed in 1915, a daily bus service began that connected Jordan, Minneapolis and Mudbaden. Transport from the Twin Cities cost only 75 cents each way.  

 Find out about the health services offered at Mudbaden, and the future of the resort in next week’s blog post!  

 Written by Rose James, SCHS Program Manager