I have been fascinated with and interested in cars my entire life—hot rods, muscle cars, trucks, race cars, all of them. I grew up in Michigan, and my earliest historical interests in Great Lakes maritime history are tied to the state’s automobile industry. Most of the freighters that captivated my imagination hauled taconite pellets (processed iron ore) to the steel and automobile factories in the Rust Belt cities of Detroit, Cleveland, Toledo, Erie, Gary, and Pittsburgh. Ford’s colossal River Rouge complex took in raw materials at one end and spit out cars at the other end. In fact, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald was en route to deliver 26,000 tons of taconite to the massive Zug Island Terminal at the confluence of the Rouge and Detroit rivers when it sank in a 1975 storm. Michigan was built by and for the automobile industry. Everywhere you looked in Michigan when I was a kid, you were reminded of that.

My love of cars was piqued as a teenager growing up in Oscoda, Michigan. Here, I take my 1972 Chevy Nova Super Sport out for a spin, 1986.

The State Historical Society of North Dakota has an impressive transportation collection. While it is not a large car collection, it is an interesting one, representing the automobile industry across much of its storied history, including the early 20th century when the United States boasted more than 200 makers. Surprisingly, electric cars have been a part of that history all along, well before Tesla arrived on the scene. We even have a foreign car in the collection to represent the import market.

In his book, “Lost Car Companies of Detroit,” Alan Naldrett categorizes cars and their manufacturers into a number of distinct eras. The State Historical Society is lucky to have representation in each of these except the Postwar era.

Veteran: 1890s and before
Brass: 1900s-1915
Vintage: 1915-1935
Prewar: 1936-1941
War: 1942-1951
Postwar: 1952-1959
Classic: 1960-1985
Modern: 1985-present

I am going to put the 1900 Holland Special in the Veteran era because it looks like a vehicle from this time due to its tiller steering wheel. For many years, the Holland was on exhibit at the North Dakota Heritage Center & State Museum. In the Brass era, we have a fantastic Glide Model 36-42 Five Passenger Touring car made in Peoria Heights, Illinois. It’s in rough shape but came to us due to its association with and use in Hebron.

1927 Essex coupe. SHSND 13543

We have several great Vintage era vehicles. Of course, the 1929 Erskine is on exhibit in the Inspiration Gallery at the State Museum, but we also have a really cool 1927 Essex. This tiny two-passenger coupe was the first widely affordable closed cab automobile. Made by Detroit’s Hudson Motorcar Co., the Essex is equipped with a six-cylinder motor generating an astonishing for the time 55 horsepower! It was a very fast little car. In fact, an Essex set a record for 50 hours straight at over 60 mph at a Cincinnati speedway in 1929. Incidentally, Hudson Motor Car Co., which produced these cars, was named after the silent partner in the company, J.L. Hudson of Detroit department store fame. Hudson cars were the first to have self-starters. When the starters got fussy, owners had to hand-crank them, bringing the term “cranky” into our vocabulary. We also have a 1934 Chevrolet pickup that I am particularly fond of due to its history with the agency. Russell Reid, one of my predecessors as director, purchased the truck for agency use from the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1939, and it has been with us ever since.

Our 1937 Lincoln Zephyr is an 88-year-old marvel of automotive design. SHSND 1973.44.1

Illustrating the Prewar era is the agency’s 1937 V12-powered Lincoln Zephyr. Named after Zephyrus, the Greek god of the west wind, this beautifully styled car has suicide rear doors and headlamps flawlessly integrated into the front fenders. To provide a glimpse into the War era cars, I chose the 1950 Pontiac Chieftain Deluxe four-door sedan. This car was purchased new by Gerald and Alma Matthiesen of Bismarck and later donated by their daughter Elaine White.

1950 Pontiac Chieftain Deluxe. SHSND 1986.138.1

We have several great choices from the Classic era. The 1961 Lincoln Continental is roughly 300 feet long, nearly as wide, and as luxurious as a royal palace. For the more common folk, the collection contains a 1961 Volkswagen Beetle. Everyone knows this little four-cylinder, rear engine, air-cooled wonder. I always thought these economical cars were roomy for their size. We all had a friend with the iconic “Bug.” Our vehicle from the Modern era is former North Dakota Secretary of State Al Jaeger’s 1986 Pontiac Parisienne, which he purchased new from Selland Motors in Fargo. This car was used in both his 1992 and 1996 campaigns.

Former Secretary of State Al Jaeger donated this 1986 Pontiac to the State Historical Society in 1998. SHSND 1998.506.1

Of course, we have other cars, trucks, and wagons, but those will have to wait for a future blog post. Stay tuned!

Thirty-seven years later, I pose with that same Chevy Nova, now restored to its original color, after winning a people’s choice trophy at a Bismarck car show, 2023.

If you’ve been to the North Dakota Heritage Center & State Museum, you’ve probably noticed the giant sea turtle that hangs from the ceiling as you walk through the Underwater World section of the Adaptation Gallery: Geologic Time. Every time I walk by this turtle, whose scientific name is Archelon ischyros, I think about the fun fact that it was about the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. That’s massive!

Now that we have a staff member whose focus is digital interactives, I had an idea for making the Archelon fossil cast and a Volkswagen Beetle come to life as animated versions of themselves to tell you about our Archelon. I pitched the idea to my boss, and she loved it. I then talked to my team member who would be working on the project. She was very excited and started her research and design right away.

She reached out to one of the paleontologists with the North Dakota Geological Survey to make sure she got the look and colors of the Archelon right. She also got a few interesting tidbits, such as where our Archelon was found, from the paleontologist to include in the animation. We geared the animation toward children, but we hope everyone enjoys it.

We don’t want to give too much away, so this is where the story ends. The animation is now up and running on a touchscreen in the gallery near our Archelon. Stop in for a visit to see it.

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.

Last May, I graduated from North Dakota State University with a Bachelor of Arts in English and psychology. This past summer, I was a reference intern at the State Archives. My main task was to watch the front desk and help patrons in the Reading Room. When we weren’t busy, I fulfilled remote requests, which included scanning documents and photos and finding obituary and naturalization records. I also logged visitors and collections used, completed four “Dakota Datebook” articles for Prairie Public, and fine-tuned six oral history transcripts in our “Flicker Tales of North Dakota” collection.

Coming to this job, I knew very little about what an archive was except that it had something to do with “documents.” Now that I’ve been here for a while, I’ve come to understand an archive as a collection of 2D objects (e.g., photos, books, periodicals, papers, state and local records, newspapers, movies, and oral histories) related to a certain topic. At the State Archives, that topic is the history of North Dakota and its people.

Here’s a bit about how I see the State Archives after my internship, including the challenges and opportunities I’ve encountered in this world.

1. Beginning research in the State Archives, like any research, can be like drinking water from a fire hose.

That’s why the reference team is here. We like to teach the research process instead of give the product. One patron I helped even called us “professors of genealogy” because we taught him how to do genealogical research. Still, I must remind myself not to provide too much of the process right away—there are just so many places one can search for information!

Showing off the Reading Room landing page—my favorite method of introducing patrons to our collections.

2. We interact with historical records on a daily basis.

A lot of our reference requests are for the naturalization records (citizenship papers) of people’s ancestors. I had the realization just recently that these records are way more than just a piece of paper. It means this person’s ancestor was in this place on this date interacting with this person, in line with various others waiting to be naturalized, and touching and writing on these pages. Doesn’t that give you goosebumps?

On the hunt for a naturalization record using a microfilm reader at the State Archives.

3. Indexes are awesome ... when they line up with your search words.

A record may be filed topically, descriptively, by individual, by record type, or in other ways. Consequently, finding records often requires some creativity and can be frustrating.

4. We must constantly wage the battle of getting people interested in history.

With mottos like “History starts with us” and “How can you know who you are without knowing where you came from?” we attempt to make history more personal. Perhaps, however, our culture is still prone to what Jonathan Metzl, writing in the journal Signs in 2002, called “an ahistorical notion of subjectivity.” In other words, we, individually and collectively, believe that we can be whoever we want to be with no regard for how the past has shaped us.

A highlight of my State Archives internship included a summer field trip to Medora. I was fortunate to page through a book in the collections of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park written and annotated by future President Theodore Roosevelt.

5. Preservation can be tricky.

The internet allows us to create so much more quickly, but deletion is often just as fast. Are we losing precious documents? How long will these technologies be around before becoming obsolete? Is digitization a form of preservation as well as access? Should we scan documents to the latest technology even if that tech will be obsolete in a few decades? These questions and more propel us to believe we are entering a digital dark age, where information may be lost because of rapidly changing technologies. It should also be noted that the shelf life of film is said to be hundreds of years, making it the highest form of preservation. However, it’s very costly to convert other media to film.

Well, that’s a wrap on my internship observations. I’m still working here during the State Archives open Saturdays and as part-time digitization staff, so stop by and say hello. Who knows, I just might be able to help you find what you’re looking for!

Preamble to the North Dakota Constitution, 1889. SHSND MSS 31372

The ability to read cursive is an important skill when working with handwritten historical documents. As a historian, exploring these old manuscripts and records is a gateway to the past, showing how events were recorded and information stored and shared. Many of us, including me, can recall learning to write cursive in school, but this skill has faded in recent years as computers have taken over nearly every aspect of life. While it may seem that understanding handwriting is not as important in an increasingly digital world, it is more vital than ever to know how to decipher this writing when dealing with historical documents. It also helps you to appreciate the beauty of the flowing words on the page.

The State Archives has thousands of pages of records spanning the 18th into the early 20th centuries that are in cursive. It’s interesting to note how the style of penmanship changes over time, aside from the differences you will also find among individuals’ unique styles. The subtle differences in a person’s handwriting become apparent when scrolling through microfilm of naturalization and county marriage records, especially when indexing or transcribing hand-written records.

First page of journalist Mark Kellogg’s diary of his time accompanying Gen. George Armstrong Custer and the 7th Cavalry, 1876. SHSND MSS 20017

In the mid-19th century, the Spencerian method of handwriting was the dominant method used in the United States, according to an article published by the National Museum of American History. By the 1890s, this style gave way to the new Palmer Method, designed for business writing, which was taught in schools into the first half of the 20th century. The changes in handwriting styles also reflected the shift from writing with quills to using pens, pencils, and a slate. There may be fewer flourishes in the Palmer Method, but the general appearance of letters in the Spencerian and Palmer methods is largely the same.

Army discharge papers of Nathan R. Goodfellow, 1865. SHSND MSS 80008

One important reason to be able to read cursive well is to promote accuracy in indexing records. This does not mean that there are not errors in transcriptions, as some older records simply cannot be deciphered completely. However, while artificial intelligence programs are starting to be used for indexing handwritten records, these may not pick up the subtle strokes of the pen that can change how a letter is seen by such a program.

The State Archives also holds a few books and manuals related to cursive handwriting and penmanship. One great example is Writing Lessons for Primary Grades (1912) that teaches children how to write the Palmer Method of cursive. Covering proper posture at the school desk and arm and hand placement, as well as muscle movements, this manual contains dozens of pages of drills for helping youngsters navigate the pitfalls of penmanship. The drills were repetitive in nature, ensuring children practiced and developed their skills.

Writing Lessons for Primary Grades, A.N. Palmer Co., 1912, p. 50

Writing Lessons for Primary Grades, A.N. Palmer Co., 1912, p. 13

Writing Lessons for Primary Grades, A.N. Palmer Co., 1912, p. 35

Knowing how this writing style works allows you to better understand how your ancestors may have learned to write and helps you see the beauty in older documents and the artistry of penmanship.

In recent years, efforts to enlist volunteers to help transcribe documents for archival facilities have emerged. The National Archives’ Citizen Archivist program is one such attempt to help make records more accessible to a wider audience through digitization. Knowing how to read and understand cursive is as important today as it was decades ago when children learned the art of writing as an everyday communication tool. Technology and digitization have not rendered handwritten materials obsolete, as many things are still written by hand in day-to-day communication. Failing to retain such comprehension skills will negatively affect our communication skills, which could have unforeseen consequences for future generations.

While technology enhances our lives, knowing older skills remains important. Next time you read a grandparent’s letter, or an older naturalization record, or our state constitution, remember the beauty that is the ink, lead, or graphite on the page and appreciate that cursive handwriting.