300421 - Minneapolis

The Great Northern Railway had its headquarters offices in a large building – the “Railroad Building”, not surprisingly – in downtown St. Paul, Minnesota. St. Paul and Minneapolis comprise Minnesota’s “Twin Cities.” To speak of one, you must usually speak of both. And when it comes to writing on a topic, many neophytes are encouraged to pick a topic that they know about intimately – like their home.

Edward Hale Bierstadt was no neophyte, certainly not in the context of writing fiction, but even professionals ought to be allowed to pluck off some low-hanging fruit now and then. Besides, I doubt he selected the topic himself, anyway. The GN officials clearly wanted some of their stories on Empire Builders to focus on the major cities along their rail lines, from east to west.

Today’s Great Northern Railway Historical Society (comprised of over 2,000 members) holds an annual 4 or 5-day convention. The location is typically selected as representative of either the west end or the east end, in alternating years, of the territory served by the GN. Coincidentally, this summer the GNRHS convention will be held in Minnesota’s Twin Cities – the headquarters hotel for the convention will be in Minneapolis.

Early press write-ups for the Empire Builders program of April 21, 1930, included the following:

Minneapolis, the Mill City, will be the locale of the program of April 21. This evening’s entertainment will feature the beautiful chains of lakes and boulevards for which that city is famous. The story is the work of E. H. Bierstadt, with the collaboration of Perry Williams, Secretary of the Minneapolis Civic and Commerce Association.

               (“The Empire Builders” program pamphlet, Apr 7 – May 12, 1930)

When Empire Builders came on the air that night, radio listeners first heard the strains of a tune called “The Land of Sky Blue Water.” Now, for those of us who grew up sometime in the 1950s through the 1970s, this song title is liable to bring to mind a certain brand of beer. However, much to my surprise, it turns out there has been a song by that title for a lot longer than the beer company was using its variation of the tune.

In the late 1920s and early 1930s, much of the country was divided on the subject of music. The influence of Tin Pan Alley-style music was still strong. Jazz as a musical genre was taking hold of the country – or at least significant portions of it. Not everyone was enthralled with it though.

Some people embraced the relatively new sound of jazz music. Others found it revolting, particularly with its emphasis on saxophones. Some folks compared saxophone music to fingernails scraping on a chalkboard. Either way, the topic was often alluded to in broadcasts and reviews of broadcasts in those days. It seemed to be on the minds of lots of folks. Most people declared that they either enjoyed it or hated it. Here are the opening lines of the April 21, 1930, episode of Empire Builders:

               (ORCHESTRA IN, FADING TO SAXOPHONE SOLO)

MARY:   Tom! Stop that wretched noise!  Stop it, I say!

               (SAXOPHONE STOPS SHORT)

TOM:     What do you mean wretched noise? I’ll bet I can play the saxophone as well as anybody in Minneapolis!

And so we are immediately introduced to our two protagonists, Mary and Tom. Empire Builders toed an interesting line on the subject of popular music. It was essential to the success of many radio series in those days – even a program that consisted of almost exclusively dramatic presentations – to feature a certain amount of popular music. Certainly many radio programs at that time featured little else besides musical performances. To my knowledge, there simply were no radio stations in the early 1930s that played a steady stream of music. I’ve mentioned this before, but until the Hindenburg disaster in 1937, broadcast networks like NBC were unlikely to allow recorded sound in nearly any form: music, spoken word, or even sound effects. Music had to be performed live, because so many radio listeners felt cheated otherwise. And so a series like Empire Builders made at least a reasonable effort to please as many of the listening audience as possible. They included period music whenever the storyline called for it, but they also played popular dance music, the Tin Pan Alley staples, and jazz. Just to show they weren’t “taking sides” in the musical debate, they didn’t shy away from poking fun at jazz, even if it was sometimes showcased on the broadcasts.

Once Mary managed to get Tom to stop playing his saxophone, she likened her disdain for the sound to her similar degree of disdain for the Minneapolis Chamber of Commerce (an odd segue, to say the least). Tom, as it turns out, was a publicity writer for the Minneapolis Civic and Commerce Association. Hey, hang on a moment – wasn’t that Perry Williams fellow who helped Bierstadt write this program . . . wasn’t he with the same Minneapolis Civic and . . . hmmmm . . . coincidence? I think not.

Tom and Mary’s conversation devolved into a pointless debate on the relative merits of industrial progress at the expense of civic beauty, and likewise the virtues of parks and scenic attractions versus economic growth. Mary let on that their engagement should be broken, because they just didn’t really have anything in common. You begin to think Edward Hale Bierstadt didn’t believe young women were capable of sustaining a serious relationship with a man without finding a remarkably superficial and fickle reason to despair over it all.

It was just about this point in the story that the doorbell rang. Mary answered the door only to find the Old Timer. She told Tom the Old Timer was a friend of her fathers. Before long, the Old Timer discovered that Mary had resolved to end her engagement to Tom. The Old Timer, being just slightly more nosey than common manners would permit, was just nosey enough to make sure he dragged this kind of detail out of another fickle young woman within the 30-minute time slot of the broadcast. It wasn’t long before he learned that Mary felt she and Tom just couldn’t agree on things. Tom corrected her. They couldn’t agree on one particular thing.

PIONEER:            Can’t expect to agree on everything, can you? Might be sort of dull for you if you did. What was the one thing that you split on.

MARY:                  Why, it’s this way. Tom handles publicity for the Civic and Commerce Association here in Minneapolis and, naturally, he believes in the things that Chambers of Commerce stand for. And I don’t.

TOM:                    The real trouble is that you don’t understand what modern commerce and industry actually mean.

MARY:                  The trouble is that I understand too well. Take just one instance that we were talking about. If the money that was spent in harnessing St. Anthony’s Falls had been used to make them more beautiful, this city would be a better place to live in!

TOM:                    But, good grief, Mary, don’t you see …

All this discussion of the commerce and scenery Minneapolis and environs prompted the Old Timer to mention he had an unusual dream the night before. Tom and Mary (thank goodness) urged him to describe the unusual dream.

The Old Timer explained that in his dream he could see St. Anthony Falls – not as they were in 1930, but as they were many years earlier. He said there was a canoe coming around a bend in the river, being paddled by a white man, and there were Indians on the bank of the river. The man in the canoe turned out to be a priest, and when he got to shore near the Indians he stepped out and held a crucifix in front of him. Turns out the priest was Father Hennepin. He told the Indians he came in peace, and that he was on a mission to locate new lands to let others know about, and to spread religion.

Hennepin asked the Natives if the water falls were on their land. They told him the falls marked a boundary to signal their enemies to advance no farther. They told Hennepin the falls were sacred to them. Hennepin said he did not understand why they considered the falls sacred, so one of the Indians began to tell him a legend of long ago, a story about a young chief and his beautiful bride.

The story began with the Chief returning to their home from a council of elders. The council had just passed judgment on him – that because his stature in the tribe was great, that he must take a second wife.

His wife protested, and tried to convince the Chief of how unfair and unfit the idea was. But the Chief was obedient to the council of elders, and insisted he had no choice but to follow their direction. Once more his wife insisted that he not do this, but the Chief finally revealed that it was already done – he had taken a second wife. The first wife was heartbroken, saying “the light has gone from my life – I shall live in the dark forever.”

With a little transitional music, the scene shifted back to Father Hennepin and the Indians on the shore. Hennepin asked if the young woman ever found happiness again.

INDIAN 1:            I will tell you, my white father. It may have been joy that came. Listen! The next morning a hunting party set out from this village, and the hunters gathered on the banks of the Father of Waters, above the Falls, for they were to go up the river in canoes. With them were their women.

(INDIAN TRANSITIONAL MUSIC UP AND FADE)

The young Chief bid the hunters farewell, but as they departed, his first wife came to the shore. The Chief was distracted by the protests of an Indian man named Eagle, whom the radio listeners learned was the brother of the first wife. Eagle chastised the Chief for dishonoring his lodge and for shaming his wife in the eyes of their village. Before the Chief could discern what his wife was up to, the Chief watched as she set herself (I hate to have to say this, but) up a creek without a paddle. Well, okay – it was more like a river. And while it’s true that she didn’t have a paddle, she wasn’t really going up the river – the current naturally took her downstream instead. Right toward St. Anthony Falls.

As the lovelorn young woman drifted over the falls to her certain doom, her brother Eagle became enraged. He blamed the Chief for her death, and took his revenge by cracking the Chief over the noggin.

INDIAN 1:            And so died the warrior, young chief, and so died the woman who loved him. Since that time, white father, far away as the farthest end of the rainbow, the falls have been sacred to my people.

HENNEPIN:         They shall be sacred to me also, red brother. They shall be known to me by the name of my patron saint. St. Anthony of Padua. So shall my people always know them.

(INDIAN MUSIC IN:  TRANSITION TO MODERN THEME:  FADE)

PIONEER:            And that was the first part of what I dreamed.

That was quite the dream. And if that was only the first part, I’m nervous about hearing the second part.

MARY:                  I liked it, even though it was sad. It was beautiful. You see? That’s what I mean. This industrial civilization has spoiled all that. The falls aren’t sacred now.

TOM:                    But the romance hasn’t gone. It’s still all there!

PIONEER:            Wait a minute. You haven’t heard the rest of my dream yet. There’s more to come.

Yeah – wait! I’ve got about five hundred adorable photographs of my grandkids you simply have to see. Come back! Don’t go . . . I was going to make espresso . . .  Well what do you know? It seems Mary and Tom are just aching to look at all those photos and have some espresso . . . er, hear the rest of the dream, that is.

MARY:                  Oh yes! Do tell us the rest.

TOM:                    We certainly don’t want to miss anything, sir.

PIONEER:            I don’t aim that you shall. Besides, the second part sort of hitches on to the first. Well, in my dream I seemed to drift along through the centuries until I heard (Music; medley forester songs, fade to chopping of axes)  the noise of axes in the forest, and I knew the white man had come.

The Old Timer told Tom and Mary about some loggers who were chopping down some enormous trees, which they then floated down the river to a mill.

PIONEER:            And then I saw the logs floating down the big river. You can see the old boom sites to this day. The timber just naturally had to come here because St. Anthony’s Falls gave ‘em power for the new mills. Ever listen to a saw mill saw?

(SOUND OF THE BIG MECHANICAL SAWS CUTTING THROUGH LOGS)

                              Yes, it’s like that. And then, after a while, when the forests were cut away, great wheat fields came in their place, and there were flour mills where the saw mills used to be. Seemed to me, in my dream, that I could hear the sifting and the shuffling of the big machines that turned the wheat into flour for the world.

(FLOUR MILL SOUND EFFECTS IN AND OUT)

                              Well, the Washburns and Pillsburys, the wise old New Englanders, took over the power sites at the falls and built flour mills. You’ll see the same names that are on these mills on flour sacks and barrels all over the world. That’s how Minneapolis became the flour milling center of the world – because it was built by the old mill stream.

(OLD MILL STREAM IN AND OUT)



Vintage fold-out postcard view of the Stone Arch Bridge and the Minneapolis milling district.  Author's collection

Mary wasn’t buying the value of all that commerce. She pined for the unspoiled beauty of the St. Anthony Falls before the commercial activity and mill building and such. But she was up against the Old Timer, and he rarely came up short in this kind of conversation.

MARY:                  That’s what I’m complaining about. You’ve taken away the Falls, and all that you’ve got left is machinery.

PIONEER:            Not quite all. There’s more than just machines. There’s all the romance of Jim Hill building the Great Northern Railroad, for instance right there. The old bridge that Jim Hill built over the Mississippi, near the falls, one of the most beautiful bridges in this country, that’s still there! Why there’s all the romance in the world right there!

(START TRAIN EFFECT:  FULL UP:  FADE INTO DISTANCE)

                              That must have been the Empire Builder, or maybe ‘twas the Oriental Limited on its way out to the Pacific.

Then the Old Timer really began to pour it on. I suspect Perry Williams took hold of the typewriter at this point to inject some of his city-boosting rhetoric.

PIONEER:            It wasn’t all industry either. And it wasn’t all commerce. Those two brought prosperity, and prosperity brought all sorts of things. One thing was the big, new municipal air-port here in Minneapolis.

(AIRPLANE EFFECT   FADE INTO DISTANCE)

                              The city grew and spread until there were eleven natural lakes some of ‘em three miles ‘round, big enough for most any kind of a boat, ‘cept maybe an ocean liner, and all linked together by parkways – inside the city limits, and more than a hundred-and-thirty public parks were created for all the people to enjoy. Beauty wasn’t forgotten. Haven’t you young folks ever gone out to the lake side on a late afternoon in summer when the birds were just saying Goodnight, and the music of a band came to you across the water. Maybe there was someone out in a boat with a mandolin too.

(FADE IN BIRDS; THEN DISTANT BAND; THEN NEARER MANDOLIN)

At this point Tom was practically frothing with enthusiasm, and even Mary was coming around.

PIONEER:            Well, there’s two sides to most everything in this world, though folks usually only take the trouble to look at one of ‘em. Civilization, the growth of commerce and industry mean that most everybody today can have the comforts and luxuries even that only a few people used to be able to have. But you can’t have anything in this world unless you pay for it, and civilization, like everything else, has got to be paid for.

The Old Timer advised Tom and Mary that his dream wasn’t quite over yet. Mary was getting just as skeptical about this peculiar dream sequence as most of the listeners, one would think.

MARY:                  Do you often have dreams as long as this one, Old Timer?

PIONEER:            (chuckles)  Only when it’s necessary, Miss Mary.

Tom and Mary prodded the Old Timer to keep at it with his seemingly endless nocturnal yarn spinning.

PIONEER:            Well, I dreamed I was right here in this room, and both of you were here too. But you couldn’t see me because it was all a dream. Miss Mary here was just singin’ a song.

(ORCHESTRA IN:  FADE TO PIANO AND SONG:  “WATERS OF MINNETONKA” OUT)

TOM:                    By George, Mary, I liked that! Sing another.

MARY:                  No, Tommy, you’ve had enough for now. And, besides, I’m not the only one in this family that does tricks. Where’s that saxophone of yours?

The Old Timer summed up his dream with a commentary between Tom and Mary that seemed to flow about like this: “aw shucks, the city is growing and now that we’re married we did our part in that arithmetic and gee isn’t this a swell place to live and raise a family and oh, boy, we’re just awfully happy.”

PIONEER:            And that’s the end of my dream!

MARY:                  Old Timer, I think it’s the end of our dream too.

TOM:                    What do you mean, Mary?

MARY:                  We just don’t need to dream anymore because this dream is coming true.

TOM:                    You really mean it?

MARY:                  I really mean it.

Well, there you have it: a swell story that managed to bring Mary back to her fickle senses and get on with her betrothal to her beloved. Tom even asked the Old Timer to serve as his best man. And then, wouldn’t you know it, Mary asked Tom to play another tune on his saxophone.

(SAXOPHONE SOLO IN:  MINNESOTA UNIVERSITY SONG:  FADE TO ORCHESTRA FOR TRANSITION)

As that lovely tune faded out, John S. Young closed the program with the night’s commentary on the peerless comforts and amenities found only onboard a Great Northern passenger train.

CLOSING ANNOUNCEMENT:

               Hours slip away like magic for travelers in the luxurious trains of the Great Northern Railway. Their pathway lies past the emerald lakes of Minnesota, through evergreen forests and fragrant valleys, along the course of ten great rivers, beside tumbling cataracts and lacey water-falls – through a land of romance. You glide swiftly and smoothly through a clean, green country, behind powerful oil burning and electric locomotives, which leave no trail of smoke or cinders. Hundreds of miles of road bed are ballasted with dustless, washed gravel, and other long stretches are oiled throughout the summer months as carefully as any well-traveled highway. Smoothness and cleanliness, combined with luxurious comfort, attend your journey on the Oriental Limited and the new Empire Builder. These trains leave Chicago daily, at eleven o’clock in the morning, and at ten-fifteen at night, for Minneapolis, St. Paul, and the four great cities of the Pacific Northwest, Spokane, Seattle, Tacoma and Portland.

 If there's a moral to this story (and I'm not saying it needs one), perhaps it's that you ought to watch those spicy foods too close to bedtime. Otherwise you're liable to start dreaming up stories about Catholic priests and Indian girls in canoes and whatnot.

 

Until next week, keep your dial tuned to Empire Builders!