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Welcome to the HHM Blog Page!  What will you find featured on our Blog? Many things are happening around Hennepin County, so it's hard to keep up with all that is going on, which is why we will feature articles and issues that may be of interest to people in the historical community. We hope that you will e-mail us and let us know what is affecting you in your end of the community.
Posted April 3, 2008 Resolution Recognizes 125th Birthday of Minneapolis Park System The next time you are in your neighborhood park take a moment to remember what it means to you. What has the park been to your community throughout your life? As the snow melts and the robins repopulate the trees, take a moment to appreciate that 125 years ago a piece of legislation was put in place to ensure that this little heaven would be there for generations to come. Enjoy the parks; they belong to all of us!
At its April 2 meeting, the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board approved a resolution recognizing 2008 as the park system’s 125th Anniversary.
The resolution notes that in February 1883 an act of the Minnesota Legislature created a Board of Park Commissioners for the city of Minneapolis, subject to the approval of the voters. April 3 marks the date Minneapolis voters approved the Park Act.
Today the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board is a renowned and award-winning park system with 182 park properties that attract an estimated 18 million visits each year, with more than five million visits to the Chain of Lakes alone.
Throughout the year, the Park Board will be honoring its past, celebrating its present and planning for the future. The Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board will be launching a promotional campaign later this month that will highlight various events and historical information.
 Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden, near North Minneapolis
Posted January 4, 2008 Minnehaha Park: Banking on the creek
Historic stone walls along the creek in Minnehaha Park, built in the 1930s, are eroding away, and parts have collapsed. But plans are afoot to shore up the walls and the stream banks to keep them accessible.
By LAURIE BLAKE, Star Tribune
January 3, 2008
A proposed $7.5 million restoration of Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis, aimed at reversing damage from erosion, is set to begin this year along Minnehaha Creek in the valley downstream from Minnehaha Falls.
A key part of the project is to secure state and federal money to renew the historic stone walls that define the creek channel and anchor popular trails near the 53-foot-tall cascade, which is the landmark of the 193-acre park off Hwy. 55 in south Minneapolis.
Victim of too much water
Built in the 1930s by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), the walls were weakened by high-water erosion during a record 4-inch downpour in October 2005.
Since then, one 30-foot chunk of a wall has lain collapsed in the creekbed. Officials say the walls still standing defy gravity and could go in the next flood.
"The walls are eroding from underneath," said Aaron Snyder of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. "Eventually, enough erosion under the walls will cause them to fall down.''
Finding the money to fix the walls is a priority, said Judd Rietkerk, director of planning and project management for the Minneapolis Park Board. "You ... look at them right now and you might say, 'Well, I wonder what is holding them up?'''
Erosion damage to the walls and the creek shoreline after the 2005 storm prompted the Minnehaha Creek Watershed District to team up with the Park Board to protect the park. The Minnesota Veterans Home, which overlooks the creek near its junction with the Mississippi River, and the Army Corps of Engineers also have joined the effort.
The goal is to renew the walls, anchor shoreline and sloping bluffs with native plants and rain gardens, and build new trails to stop erosion caused by walking and climbing, said Mike Wyatt, planner for the watershed district.
Where the money will go
This year, the district plans to spend about $1.7 million to begin the repairs by building a rain garden to reduce storm-water runoff from the Veterans Home into the creek, and by planting native vegetation to stabilize the creek bank in front of the home.
While doing that, the district is seeking at least $1 million from the federal government to save the WPA walls and another $5.3 million from the state to pay for 23 separate improvement projects involving trails, slopes and stream banks, and other needs at the park.
Of all the stone WPA structures built in the park -- including bridges, steps and creek walls -- the walls are disintegrating fastest, said Deborah Morse-Kahn, director of Regional Research Associates.
The Army Corps is studying ways to shore them up with concrete or other lasting materials, Snyder said. He could not say when the wall work would begin, but he said the Corps will start as soon as federal funding can be obtained -- possibly this year.
Corps engineers think they can return the walls to their original function of stabilizing the stream banks to keep the creek in its current location.
If the walls fall, "the creek will do whatever it wants to do as far as eroding the bluffs,'' Rietkerk said. If erosion continues, "soon you don't have any place for the trails to be.''
Without trails, the creek gorge could be viewed only from the top, Rietkerk said.
"A lot of what is at stake is the recreational ability to go down there and explore. Otherwise, you could say so what if the creek takes down some trees and the banks collapse,'' Rietkerk said.
The $5.3 million request from the state's 2008 bonding program must compete with nearly $4 billion in other funding requests from across the state.
The Senate bonding committee toured the park in the fall and did not rule out the project. But it wants to see where the project ranks among other Minneapolis priorities, said Sen. Keith Langseth, DFL-Glyndon, who chairs the committee. He said the state is likely to issue about $1 billion in bonds.
Previous improvements in Minnehaha Park during the early 1990s included a $5 million to $6 million reworking of park roads and reconstruction of the concession stand, Rietkerk said.
Laurie Blake • 612-673-1711
Posted December 10, 2007 If you have not had a chance to check out this video made by Edina residents, check it out. This is the You Tube response from several residents that feel that the "McMansion" is taking over their neighborhood. The City of Edina is still debating whether or not they will have a vote on putting a moratorium on the construction of more of these monster houses. Click below to see the video.
Posted December 5, 2007 Did you hear Hennepin History Museum on Morning Edition this morning? If not, check out the Minnesota Public Radio website and you can read an abbreviated version of the discussion with Marianne Combs. There has been a lot of buzz surrounding one of our latest exhibitions, Studies From Life: Costume and object portraits from the collections of the Hennepin History Museum, by Minneapolis artist Timothy G. Piotrowski This exhibition exemplifies a rare opportunity for an artist to have access to working hands on with a museum’s collection. This is both an historic event and an assemblage of art; each party has received something very valuable in this exchange. Posted August 9, 2007 This following article was written by one of the Hennepin History Museum's friends and members. As a historical society dedicated to preserving our stories and our past, it seemed only proper that we should post this here. This will first appear in the StarTribune, Sunday, August 12th The Bridge: One Week After
Don't cry baby. Knew this was one way ticket, but you know I had to come. Love you wife. -The Abyss
I came in on I-394 and up onto Washington Avenue, and made my way east to Portland. One block to the river and a parking space opened up and I dove in. A half-minute on foot and I was at the stone arch span on the dot of noon.
There might have been a thousand people on that bridge.
Its been a week since the unthinkable became sinkable. A bridge fell into the river. It carried some 60 vehicles and a hundred plus humans and most walked away and we began our collective vigil of 36-hour days and a 10-day week.
Was it the New York Times that wrote "On 9/11, we all ran out and first responders ran in. Here in Minneapolis, an interstate bridge falls at rush hour and everyone runs in! Who are you people?"
Who are we, indeed?
Our first and abiding image of the dusk and the water and the chaos and the sorrow was a young blonde woman, in a black wetsuit and yellow tether cord, diving and diving in the growing dark. Down she went, and up she came. She opened car doors, avoided rebar and cement chunks. And she dove, and she dove. An off-duty fire captain, she waited neither for clearance or food-chain permission, but grabbed her gear, drove down to the rivers edge from her northside station, and went into the wreckage and the water. In the days to come, Shanna Hanson would be interviewed by everyone from the local folks to Radio Hanoi, and she finally begged off. "Its not about me, this isn't professional. I can't do this." End of interview.
Who are we, indeed?
On each bank of the river, citizens became first responders without thought or hesitation. They waded into the water, paced out onto the concrete spans, shimmied down the rebar. They just helped. Backboards, car doors, hand holds. Just helped, for hours and hours, into the night, until no one could see and the police captains and the fire marshalls and the State Patrol brought a halt to the rescue effort and pulled everyone off the bridge and out of the water. The city asked that cell phone calls be stopped to permit communication among first responders: all over the metro area, cell phones went silent. By nightfall the Red Cross was overwhelmed with volunteers and donations.
The hospitals saw an enormous percentage of medical personnel respond to the code orange alert, some coming from cabins two and three hours away: they were needed, so they came. Metro sister-city St. Paul and metro suburban safety officers came in without request or question to fill the empty police and fire department spaces on the city streets until Minneapolis could take care of its own once again.
The days following the 35W bridge collapse brought a galaxy of media stars. As a longtime StarTribune staffer stated so perfectly, "like metal filings to a magnet." They came for the crisis, and found...order. Quiet order. There were tears, and there were deaths, by fire and by water. We were no longer in a rescue operation, but a recovery operation. But the National Transportation Safety Board Chairman, Mark Rosenker, had arrived the first night. His gentle, east coast Jewish, unchallengeably confident demeanor matched right up with Mayor Rybak's thoughtful and steady direction, and Governor Pawlenty's sturdy grip on the state's emergency response and, between the three, the stage was set for the days and nights to come. All we needed was closure.
And so we have waited. For the cranes to shift the massive debris, for the barges to haul away the rebar and concrete, for someone to declare that tilt-up slab of interstate bridge our fit memorial with its magnificent Calder-like mobile of green twisted metal girders. For the missing bodies. We have waited.
And while we have waited, we have made pilgrimage and vigil, to the banks of the river and the tops of buildings, and the Stone Arch bridge. Memorial. Among those in shorts and shirts, suits and wingtips, flip-flops and camis, high heels and silks, t-shirts and jeans, the conversation was about helping. Could we be of any further assistance? Were the bereaved families being well cared for? Was blood still needed? Where could flowers be left?
Who are we, indeed?
I stood amidst the throng, leaning against the railing over the river. It was hot, and humid, and the scene of broken bridge deck and green girders shimmered in the distance downriver beyond the locks. I considered cultures around the world for whom volunteerism is generally unknown. Russia. China. Famous stories of non-involvement, the shrugged shoulder when asked for aid, children abandoned in orphanages, the starving stepped over on sidewalks. Social service agencies and agents were never woven into their community fabric.
But are we here in Minnesota so different even from our fellow Americans?
"Here everyone runs in! Who are you people?"
Minneapolis was founded by Unitarians, Episcopalians, Jews and Presbyterians. We had an early and unpopular stand on slavery, driving hard for abolition before Lincoln ever came to office. The historic make-up of the state of Minnesota--of Swedes and Norwegians, Germans and Irish--came a bit later, but they brought their own powerful ethic for mutual aid and clean politics. The Rangers--Italians and Finns, Slovaks and Czechs--brought the co-operatives and intercooperation to Minnesota as a way of life and it continues to dominate our state culture to this day.
This ethic of unquestioned mutual support has waxed and waned over centuries, and we Minnesotans have had our rough and unattractive moments but, when the hard times have come, all have responded. Again, and again, and again. It is no accident that Minnesota continues to draw an astonishing percentage of national refugee and emigré populations: it isn't the social welfare system that draws them, it’s the welcome and honest kindness that is shown to those who have little, lost much, and have much to give. The corporate 5% club established by our business leaders decades ago was not sprung from a creative urge but was rather a natural outcome of a community ethic. Help others, do well, love God.
And, I would add from my own culture, be a mensch, be a mitzvah. A complete human being and a blessing to others.
This is who we are, indeed. We all went running in.
And, God forbid, at need we'll do it again.
Deborah Morse-Kahn is an author and director of Regional Research Associates in Minneapolis. She can be reached at dmk@regionalresearch.net.
Posted June7, 2007 Someone pointed out to me this beautifully made video that they found on YouTube. This is a video celebrating women in art-- I highly recommend watching it. The person who created this is not affiliated with HHM, but should be acknowledged none the less; their link info. is http://www.youtube.com/eggman913en in art. Enjoy!
Posted May 31, 2007 At the Hennepin History Museum, like many museums, we receive a lot of questions from people looking for information on collecting. Whether you are a seasoned collector that finds yourself comfortable at the most notable auctions (and e-bay!), or you are someone looking to formalize a hobby, the owner of a Medina collectible show may have the advice for you. To the treasure hunter, the world is divided into two camps: collectors and investors Submitted by Minneapolis freelance journalist, Kay Hansen
“Collectors are passionately in love with the items they collect,” according to Laurie Rozakis, author of “Complete Idiots Guide to Buying and Selling Collectibles,” while investors are business people, first and foremost, who are interested in buying, selling and trading.”
Jerry Douglas, owner of the upcoming “Fat Albert Toy and Doll Show” straddles the two worlds.
“I have a personal interest in toys -- both collecting and buying to sell,” he said.
Douglas, who also owns and promotes the Triple Crown Sports Collectible Show, recently bought the Fat Albert Toy and Doll Show as an enjoyable and profitable compliment to a a childhood hobby that grew into a passion when he reached adulthood.
“Being raised in St Paul’s Selby Dale area, [I grew up] poor, ”Douglas said, “and collecting baseball cards was a cheap [hobby] -- something poor kids could do. The toys, though, were tough. My parents didn’t have the money for the good toys -- I always got the low end toys -- so when I graduated from college and got my first job I started shopping around for the toys that I always wanted as a child.”
Keeping an eye out for GI Joe's and Japanese tin cars from the 1950’s, Douglas forages flea markets, antique stores and collectors shows for toys he can add to his growing collection as well as for those he can sell to make a profit.
“I’d like to get a hold of a rare toy that's worth a lot of money,” Douglas said, “there are some robots out there from the 1950’s that are pretty rare.”
“Collecting toys for investment is an excellent hedge against inflation [because] toys steadily keep going up in value.” said Brent Harelson of Antique Toys.com, "It's become one of the top five collectibles in the USA and the explosion in the market has been nothing short of remarkable,”
Douglas offered tips for the budding collector or investor:
--Buy what you like. “Come to the toy show and look around and there will be something that’ll grab you,” he said.
.--Become familiar with current market value of toys by looking through newspaper ads, toy-sale catalogs and talking to local dealers.
--Focus on one or two areas of interest -- Japanese tin cars, for instance -- so you don’t spread your collection too thin.
--If you hope to earn a profit, buy the best you can afford. “A Barbie Doll from 1959, mint in the box with everything that came with it, can go for $20,000-$25,000,” Douglas said.
--And, most importantly, have fun. "You can pick up some toys, turn around and sell them and then go out and buy the toys that you really want."
The Fat Albert Toy and Doll Show is at the Medina Ballroom, four miles west of 494 on highway 55. For more information, call 612-718-2649.
May 23, 2007
Posted by Jada Hansen, Executive Director
Some portions have been adapted from an article that originally appeared in Hennepin History, Spring 1978.
Sister Kenny, a Gift to Hennepin County and the World
I was sitting in my office just the other day when I paused to watch our curator, Jack, rustling through the adjacent room. Seeing my lapsed attention as an invitation to show me one of the many fascinating artifacts nestled in the collection, he walked in and placed an interesting doll down on my desk. He asked “I assume you are familiar with the great Sister Kenny?” I was of course familiar with the woman that had invented a treatment for polio, but I was not as well versed on the enormous impact Minnesota and Hennepin County had on the advancement of her methods. So why was Sister Kenny worthy of this little doll, which was made by a Hennepin County doll maker?
When I first began to research and write this submission, Sister Kenny was an historical character like so many that I have stumbled into; she was worthy and intriguing but of little relevance to my life outside of intellectual curiosity. Sister Kenny soon became very relevant to me however, about three days ago when my grandmother, whom I am very close to, had a stroke. Thankfully she survived it, although is now paralyzed on an entire side of her body, which is a paralysis that can sometimes be overcome by the sheer desire to persevere on the part of the patient (I learned all this through the Stroke Awareness Month brochures—how’s that for irony?). For my grandmother, evaluation for her prescribed course of therapy begins today. Will it be the world renowned Sister Kenny Institute housed here in Minneapolis, which has everything from acupuncture and massage treatments, to fully functioning kitchens? Or a nursing home, which allows the patient to move at whatever pace they choose. I cherish the service that nursing homes provide, but there is only one thing that a person thinks when being admitted to one such facility--this is the end. That in fact is why Sister Kenny is so important to the history of Hennepin County and to the world; she gave people hope where before there was none.
Elizabeth Kenny was born in Warrialda, New South Wales, Australia, on September 20, 1886. She was trained as a nurse and spent many years treating the sick in the isolated bush country. She quickly ascended to the rank of “Sister,” a term used by British military to designate chief nurse, and by 1940 she was on her way to being celebrated across the world for her treatment of polio; 19 years before a cure would be found.
While Sister Kenny was in the bush country she was developing a theory for treatment of the terrible muscular affliction, which largely afflicted children. It was then that she saw miraculous results through relieving muscular tightness and pain with hot, moist packs. Muscles that had been presumed paralyzed were now responding and becoming useful again. What set her apart from all the other medical practitioners of her time was that this method was diametrically opposed to that in use at that time—instead of immobilizing affected limbs in braces, she was treating them.
After 31 years of treating polio in Australia, Sister Kenny arrived in California expecting more than the cool reception that she received. Unable to have her ideas heard in California, she headed to New York where she encountered a campaign bent on discrediting her. Having been all but chased out of the East, Kenny went to Chicago where she sensed that the ice was finally melting; this gave her enough hope to continue on to Rochester, Minnesota.
Sister Kenny arrived in Minnesota in May of 1940. Kenny had never believed that Minnesota would bring her the success that it did, but rather she had planned on having a pleasant visit before returning home. The city of Rochester exuded such friendliness however, that Sister Kenny soon found herself having frank conversations with Mayo Clinic patients and then, doctors. The Mayo clinic physicians that she spoke with, Doctors Krusen and Henderson were not satisfied with the methods that they presently had at their disposal, and they admitted it; this was the huge turning point that brought Sister Kenny’s methods to the forefront of polio treatment.
Although Sister Kenny was given an audience in Rochester, there were no polio cases for her to demonstrate on, so she was referred to two Minneapolis doctors, Wallace Cole and Miland Knapp. It had been only six days from the time that Sister Kenny arrived in the Twin Cities that a St. Paul doctor ordered the splints, frames and casts off of his patience, which up until now had been unthinkable. By 1941 Kenny had been given 16 beds at Minneapolis General Hospital (now Hennepin County Medical Center) and 17 beds at the University of Minnesota. Soon families with paralyzed children were demanding that their doctors treat patience with the Kenny method, and doctors were being taught the new method at a rapid rate. December 12, 1942, the first Kenny Institute at 1800 Chicago Avenue was dedicated, and not even a freezing cold day could keep the crowds of onlookers away from the opening ceremonies. Sister Kenny had brought freedom to thousands and hope to millions.
Because the Chicago Avenue building would be the home to the Sister Kenny Institute, the most logical place for her to live was nearby, so a house on 25th and Park Avenue was purchased as her residence (this home has since been torn down). Her house keeper from 1948 to 1951, Martha Kloster said of Sister Kenny “She was always considerate of the people that worked for her despite the long hours that sister spent on her work or how trying the day had been for her…she had a heart of gold.” Although Sister Kenny had always been a tenacious fighter for her cause and was widely known for a hot temper, she was most adequately described as a person of compassion.
Not only did Sister Kenny impact Minnesota, but it is clear that Minnesota also left a mark on her. The people and the environment were something she always remembered with fondness. When on a tour around the Twin Cities, Kenny is said to have remarked “I never dreamed that one day I would stand on the rim of Lake Minnetonka and gaze across the sky-blue water to the wooded shores beyond.” And Minnesota never thought that one of its most cherished residences would be a nurse from Australia.
 Sister Kenny's popularity was such that the well known doll maker, Hulda Olson, even crated this one of a kind doll in her likeness. This doll, among others, can be found in our collection.
If you would like to learn more about Sister Kenny come check out the full length article in our Hennepin History Magazine back issue, Spring 1978.
Posted April 30, 2007 Our first Blog submission comes from Deborah Morse-Kahn, one of our long time members. Developer's harvest is farmers' loss
Russ Juskalian
Special for USA TODAY
Monday, April 30, 2007
"Throughout Last Harvest, however, hovers a disquieting hum of mass production and "vanilla-ness." Rybczynski calls it an elitist feeling: We can't all live in custom homes, in organically developed communities, with large yards and wealthy neighbors.."The last harvest" is a term farmers use to describe selling their land to developers.There is an inherent dispiritedness in the idea that a farmer's last crop is the land a family has tilled for generations..."
Hemingway, Faulkner, Melville and Sheldon: All icons of American literature. True enough. But there can be more to the names than the men behind them.
These days you can own your own Sheldon, or even Fitzgerald — if you're one of the customers of Ryan Homes, the national home builder, whose line of "neo- traditional" models are named for famous writers.
In the case of Sidney Sheldon, it is 1,944 square feet of space over two floors, three or four bedrooms and an optional finished basement — all for a few hundred thousand dollars and wrapped in vinyl siding.
This is just one of the tidbits of information Witold Rybczynski includes in his book Last Harvest.
It is one part the story of homeownership in America and one part the story of how a plot of rural Pennsylvania land was sold, broken into parcels and reincarnated as a planned housing development called New Daleville.
As an architect, and professor of urbanism at the University of Pennsylvania, Rybczynski's narrative is steeped in historical knowledge. And while he occasionally indulges in architectural jargon — like dentil or quoin — the casual reader has no trouble keeping up.
That's a good thing, because dusting off the dictionary isn't likely to add light to the situation. My digital copy of the New Oxford American Dictionary, 2nd Edition clarified dentil as "one of a number of small, rectangular blocks resembling teeth and used as a decoration under the soffit of a cornice."
The structure of Last Harvest is framed around a seemingly simple process: developer purchases land from farmer, makes improvements, sells parcels to builder. Builder constructs house on each plot. Homeowner buys. Everyone profits.
Except, as Rybczynski notes, "the sequence has gotten jumbled — it's now like a twisted stair in an Escher drawing, seeming to go up but frequently going sideways or down."
There are town, state, and federal ordinances, zoning laws, neighbors worried about land values and traffic congestion, home buyers who want more options for less money and a housing market rife with volatility.
Rybczynski's nearly complete access to town meetings, developers, home builders, home buyers and external consultants involved in the New Daleville development lets him do a terrific job demonstrating how tortuous and stressful land development can be.
Sometimes Rybczynski demonstrates this too well: The tale can bog down recalling insignificant disagreements between the town and the developer on topics such as minor ordinance changes. On the other hand, Rybczynski somehow instills sympathy for developers who are often denounced as a pestilence leaving behind only suburban sprawl.
And then there's the magical sequence near the end, where Rybczynski brings us into the lives of Scott and Meghan Andress, buyers of one of the first of the 100-plus homes slated for New Daleville.
This section of the book, while short, recalls the excitement of homeownership that Tracy Kidder documented so well in House (1985).
While homes in New Daleville are, for the most part, pre-built and mass-produced, the Andress' are able to customize theirs: a different knob here, a larger room there, a bathroom door that opens in the opposite direction, etc. They are excited to be moving their growing family into a larger home in a development designed to foster community interaction and neighborliness.
Throughout Last Harvest, however, hovers a disquieting hum of mass production and "vanilla-ness." Rybczynski calls it an elitist feeling: We can't all live in custom homes, in organically developed communities, with large yards and wealthy neighbors.
Not all readers will see it this way. As arduously as planned housing developments strive to recreate the feeling of small communities, these developments are, at the end of the day, driven by the two economic gods: profit and cost.
"The last harvest" is a term farmers use to describe selling their land to developers. There is an inherent dispiritedness in the idea that a farmer's last crop is the land a family has tilled for generations.
New Daleville, and developments like it, may well represent the future of the American home.
Some will find optimism in such an outcome.
Others will hope that New Daleville doesn't come to represent our own last harvest: the relinquishing to corporate interests of one of our last vestiges of our individuality — the place where we live.
Find this article at:
http://www.usatoday.com/money/books/2007-04-29-harvest-book-usat_N.htm
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