A crowd gathers at the North Dakota Building for Baked Potato Day, April 27,1915. A sign on the building invites people to “Have A Baked Potato On Us.” SHSND SA E0948-00001

It was a “potato stunt” for the ages.

In 1915, the town of Larimore in Grand Forks County shipped thousands of their prized tubers, each weighing more than a pound, to the Panama-Pacific International Exposition (aka the world’s fair) in San Francisco.

Fairgoers flocked to Baked Potato Day that April 27 at the North Dakota Building, where two large ovens had been set up outside to churn out hot buttered spuds, cooked up by a Great Northern Railway chef and served by “pretty girls.” Mollie Larimore, widow of the town’s namesake, N.G. Larimore, was in attendance for the festivities along with other dignitaries. Souvenir plates, spoons, and buttons were distributed to the assembled, who were entertained with lectures, tater races, and a Native American potato dance.

Larimore spuds head to the World’s Fair, 1915. OCLC 8002312

Heralded as a “big ad for the state” by newspapers, Baked Potato Day was hatched by none other than Larimore Pioneer editor Edgar L. Richter, president of the state’s press association and an energetic North Dakota booster. A local subscription drive raised $230 to send the spuds to San Francisco from Larimore, said to be home to the world’s largest potato warehouse at the time. This was hardly tiny Larimore’s first turn in the world’s fair limelight. In 1893, foreign commissioners from the Chicago World’s Fair visited the Elk Valley Farm, a bonanza farm founded by N.G. Larimore, which attracted international attention.

Grand Forks Daily Herald, April 23, 1915, p. 7

Baked Potato Day was not without some controversy, however. In an unusual twist, a humorous talk by anti-suffragette “Emmy Panthorst” was pulled by program organizers fearing retribution from suffragists and the prospect of a messy brawl involving combatants “armed with hot baked potatoes.” Curiously, news reports at the time insinuated that the mysterious Panthorst, who failed to appear, had been none other than Richter himself.

The State Archives houses a scrapbook of clippings from Baked Potato Day as well as other items related to the 1915 World’s Fair, including photographs, souvenir books, and the North Dakota Building’s visitor register. SHSND SA 30152

This minor hiccup aside, the day came off without a hitch, and Richter returned home pledging to turn Larimore into a winter resort for New York millionaires. Newspapers carried reports of increased California demand for North Dakota tubers. The “baked potato king” or “Spuds,” as Richter was called, would go on to spearhead North Dakota Appreciation Week, another successful booster event, that November. “Probably no man in the entire state of North Dakota,” the Fargo Forum and Daily Republican declared, “has done more to spread the gospel of the glory of the commonwealth throughout the nation.”

Jamestown Weekly Alert, May 6, 1916, p. 5

While North Dakota did not become known as the Potato State as some papers predicted at the time, 110 years from that momentous day, the spud remains an agricultural staple. North Dakota ranks fifth in the nation in potato production, and an endowed professorship of potato breeding was recently established at NDSU. The potato crop is one of many contributing to North Dakota’s agricultural dominance, which will be highlighted as part of an exhibit State Historical Society staff is working on to mark the nation’s upcoming 250th birthday.

Grand Forks Daily Herald, May 7, 1915, p. 10

As for Richter, his post-potato days were eclectic to say the least. A vocal opponent of the progressive Nonpartisan League, Richter launched an unsuccessful bid for state Senate the following year. He also served as president of the Larimore fire department, helped found a moving and construction company, worked as an insurance agent and auto licensing inspector, and was elected Fargo justice of the peace. During World War I, he traveled North Dakota organizing the “Four Minute Men,” who gave speeches to rally support for the war effort.

Richter ended his career as deputy state pool hall inspector, dying in 1926 at age 64. Regrettably, the Bismarck Tribune obituary failed to mention his Baked Potato Day antics at all.

If I had a nickel for every time I called and asked for local businesses’ “garbage,” well, I’d only have 10 cents. But strangely, that’s already happened twice.

I work as the education outreach supervisor, and much of my role involves developing programs that help visitors connect with and better understand the history of North Dakota. One program I lead is called “Native American Sports and Games,” where we share activities that have been played for hundreds of years by the Indigenous people of the Great Plains. Some of these games include lacrosse, double ball, ice gliders, hand game, and bone and pin. This program has become quite popular with visiting school groups, and the items in our games bin see a lot of wear and tear. Because of this, I occasionally need to repair or replace our equipment. While there are plenty of outlet stores and online retailers that sell similar items, I have a crafty heart and a bit too much confidence in my ability to DIY just about anything. Rather than buying new gear, I sometimes try making it myself.

The first item I decided to make was a double ball. Fortunately, I had most of the supplies on hand. The materials I needed were simple: buckskin leather, sinew, and bison hair. I had a few pieces of buckskin left over from a previous project, and a large roll of imitation sinew. But I didn’t have any bison hair—and alas, no bison to groom! That halted the project for a moment, but then I realized that bison hair was likely chosen for its abundance and convenience. So I started thinking: What other natural fiber could I easily get my hands on? Dog hair! A quick phone call to a local pet groomer, and I asked if I could have their end-of-day garbage bag filled with dog hair. They found the request a bit odd but were happy to oblige. And just like that, the project resumed. With all the materials in place, I was able to successfully make an additional double ball for the program.

Completed double ball made of buckskin, imitation sinew, and dog hair clippings.

This fall, I took on a second DIY project: bone and pin. To make this game, you need deer phalanges (toe bones), long bone or antler, leather cord, and another piece of buckskin. I already had the leather supplies on hand, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find reasonably priced deer phalanges anywhere. Luckily, fall in North Dakota means one thing: hunting season.

I called up my local butcher and asked if I could have the phalanges from any deer being processed. He couldn’t clean out just the phalanges but could give me the entire lower leg portion. I was thrilled and happily agreed. A few weeks after deer opener, I picked up a box of 44 deer legs from the butcher and brought them to work. With the help of Becky Barnes, a paleontologist with the North Dakota Geological Survey, I learned the process for removing and cleaning bones from the hooves. I will save you the gory details but will say I became adept at removing the flesh and tendon from bone. We washed the bones in a soap water solution and left them to soak in ammonia to remove any remaining oils. After soaking for a few months, the bones were clean and ready to be shaped.

Cleaned lower leg and hoof bones from deer.

I plan to shape them using drills and sanding belts. Finally, I’ll string the pieces together to complete the game set.

Bones shaped for bone and pin strung together on leather alongside unshaped phalange bones.

I’m grateful for these unusual opportunities because they not only connect me to our history but also to my community. In the end, I’m proud to say that both these DIY projects seem to be on a successful track. And as a bonus, I was able to repurpose what would have otherwise been waste from local businesses into meaningful educational items.