Swatara Plat Map
Methodist Church Records
Photographs of the area
"The Old Swatara School" by Stacy Vellas
Swatara Telephone Exchange, 1933
Excerpt From "Beyond The Circle"
Historical Vignet from the Aitkin Age Newspaper
Swatara, My Home Town

SWATARA PLAT MAP
Courtesy of Ron

METHODIST CHURCH RECORDS

Pastors 1929-1974
Recorded in 2002 by Stacy Vellas

MARRIAGE RECORDS 1911-1971

Dates after 1930 are listed as "Private"
For complete dates, Contact Stacy

Names	Date	Minister
Conrad Angermo & Fannie Gorsuch	16 May 1925	Arthur Cartwright
Cary Arnold & Joan Gobel	private	Forest Pierce
David Ashton & Joanne Biskey	private	Arthur Heath
William Bailey & Lorna Johnson	private	Richard Stokey
James Baty & Della Baldwin	14 June 1926	Arthur Cartwright
David Benson & Elaine Ellis	private	Thomas Brennan
Charles Boyette & Marcia Huff	private	Thomas Brennan
Thomas Bardner & Susan Sydnes	private	Thomas Brennan
Thomas Earle DeWolfe & Cheryl Rae Bailey	private	John White
Russell Raymond Ellis & Judy Lynn Siebert	private	John White
Glen Gillson & Gladys Slyter	No date given	Elsie Hartman
John Hansen & Doris Dropps	private	James Dowler
Gene Hawk & Carla Holm	private	James Dowler
Melvin Holm & Delores McNeil	private	Forest Pierce
James Huff & Margaret Ellis	private	Thomas Brennan
Clarence Kingsley & Delores Amundson	private	Richard Stokey
Merle Kingsley & Joan Nelson	private	Richard Stokey
Charles Klennert & Irene Klennert	private	James Dowler
Larry Ernest Klennert & Jane Marie Banes	private	John White
Richard Laatt & Kathleen Biskey	private	James Dowler
Harold Luisruent & Shirley Randle	private	James Dowler
Emmett Mather & Edith Schindele	private	James Dowler
William Neary & Kathleen McNeil	private	Thomas Grennan
Duane Olds & Juanita Clark	private	Elsie Hartman
Patrick O'Brien & Judith Heinz	private	Thomas Brennan
Roy Robertson & Sylvia Randle	private	Elsie Hartman
Louis Roderick & Elizabeth McAninch	13 June 1911	Gilchrist
Walter Randle & Ruth Chord	private	James Dowler
Ralph Thurlby & LaDonna Huff	private	Richard Stokey
Lyle Russell Ward & Karen Lee Wagner	private	John White

Main Street, Swatara, Minnesota ~ 1947
Contributed by Stacy Vellas

On the left is the Trepanier & Jewett Store, next is the Hotel
On the right is Old's Cafe, then the Post Office
In the distance is the spire of the Methodist Church

Swatara, Minnesota
Photograph by Evelyn Hilton

THE OLD SWATARA SCHOOL
by Stacy Vellas
copyright 1993

As a child growing up, the Swatara School was the center of my life. It was the center of everyone's life who lived in the small town of Swatara. A few hundred people lived in the Swatara District and each family had five to eight children who attended the big school on the hill. Everything is built on a hill in Minnesota.

We were fairly well isolated on our Minnesota farm seven miles from town, especially during the winter when the snow was knee deep and the lake was frozen over in ice. We were three quarters of a mile from the main road on my Grandfather's homestead that he had taken out in 1901. The snowplow kept the main road cleared for the bus and people traveling from Swatara to Outing. But the snow on our country road was over two feet deep and we had no equipment to plow the snow and Daddy could not get the car out to the main road during the winter to go to town. We were snowed in until spring. What we needed from town I had to bring home on the school bus.

The Vellas Homestead ~ This is our log house covered with tar paper to keep out those strong north winds in 1938.

Pictured: Walter Cummings, a manager at Montgomery Wards in St. Paul
(We sold strawberry plants through his office)
Stacy Vellas 11, holding Louise Vellas 1, Connie Vellas 8, Rose Vellas 6

Of course, we only needed a very few things from town. Our cellar had long storage shelves stocked with canned quart jars of homegrown green beans, corn, peas and strawberries from the garden. Sacks of potatoes, rutabagas and cabbages stacked high on the opposite side of the cellar, we children had helped pick and prepare for winter. There were blueberries from the patch on the hill above Third Guide Lake that we gathered in the fall when they ripened and Mama had canned. Sometimes bears would be there across the berry patch eating berries while we picked our share.

Daddy was a hunter from necessity. Outside, a short distance from the house hung a nice fat deer from a spruce tree, skinned and dressed. We always had venison, fresh in the winter and canned in the summer. We were told from an early age never to tell that Daddy had shot a deer or the game warden would come and take Daddy to jail. So when Daddy would load his gun, sling it over his shoulder and take off into the woods, we knew in the morning we'd have to go and help carry the meat home. And that was a tough job for a kid.

Sometimes other kids would come to school and say, "My dad got a deer last night." I'd say, "You aren't supposed to tell!" I was shocked. We never told!

Daddy was also a seasonal trapper. He would set out maybe forty traps and line them up and mark the trail so he could find his traps on the next trip. Often it would snow in between the times he checked his trap lines and he could only find the trail by looking for the branches he had broken for a guide. When he set traps for raccoons he put the trap in running water and hung a piece of meat above it on a branch. When the coon reached for the meat he would step in the trap. Daddy trapped mink, muskrat and raccoons. Sometimes he would take me along on his trap lines. I loved going with Daddy. We had such fun. We would ski single file along the trail through the trees and along the river checking each trap on the way, picking up the animals that were unfortunate enough to think they had found a free meal.

I learned to skin the mink, the muskrat and the weasel (ermine) used in making fine furs coats for rich ladies in the cities. Connie and I trapped the weasels.

During summer, Daddy raised strawberries. Early in the spring we would dig up the young plants count them in bunches of twelve, tie them with a string for Daddy. He would fill the orders for Montgomery Ward and ship them directly to the buyer. In 1937, Daddy made a deal with Walter Cummings, head of a department at Montgomery ward to fill their orders for young strawberry plants. Then he began to make a lot more money.

Later when the strawberries ripened, we would pick the large red berries and pack them in quart boxes. Then Daddy would drive to the nearby towns of Remer and Walker west of Swatara and my brother and I would go from door to door and ask people if they'd like to buy a box of strawberries for ten cents. This was very humiliating for me, but my dad came from Greece, a country where peddling was an honorable profession. People were glad to buy the strawberries. This and the furs was the extent of our income for several years. Connie said it didn't bother him to peddle strawberries then but it would bother him to do it now. I'm just the opposite, it wouldn't bother me now to peddle door to door.

Daddy kept all of his money in a glass jar in the cellar. In the middle of the house Daddy had cut a door in the floor that led down into the cellar. To open it you had to lift the door in the floor and lay it back on its hinges. There was a ladder that had about six steps to walk down to the dirt floor at the bottom. Near the ladder Daddy had dug out a round hole in the wall of the dirt banking, and put in a quart jar with all of his money. Then he stuffed in a rag to hide the jar and covered the hole with dirt so it wouldn't be noticed. He never carried more than about ten dollars on him. If you said you had money you could be robbed. People were pretty desperate during the depression. When he needed cash he would go down in the cellar, take the fruit jar from its hiding place and take out the money he needed. He usually had about a hundred dollars in there. He had been through the depression and he didn't trust banks. We kids knew where his money was, it wasn't a secret, but we never touched the money.

Just before school began, Mama would get out the new print cloth she had ordered from Montgomery Wards, wash up all the flour sacks on hand and make us new school clothes. She'd sit down at her old Singer treadle sewing machine and the treadle rocked back and forth as the needle flew up and down the seams. Soon there were brand new dresses for us girls and shirts for my brother. The flour sacks she had washed and saved were turned into nice crisp underwear for us girls to wear to school. They were kind of rough at first, but after a few washings with lye soap, the cloth began to soften up.

Mama sent away to Sears or Wards for our dress material that we chose from the catalog. She also sent away for our ready-made snowsuits, coats and shoes.

One year she ordered our shoes from Sears Roebuck. When I tried on my shoes, they were too small, but I didn't want to send them back. So I told Mama they fit just right. That was the worst decision I ever made in my life, because my feet hurt all winter. They were so tight they curled my last three toes back under and I still have a problem today.

The Swatara School was the center of our social life for most of the year. Before I started school my only friends were my brother, my sister and my cousins, the Berg kids. We lived back in the woods and seldom went to town. So the only kids we met were my cousins or Daddy's friends, which were few.

It was in school where I met my best friend, Marcella Wilcowski, and we were forever friends throughout our school days at the Swatara School. She lived about two and a half miles from our place on the bus route.

At home, my brother, Connie, my sister Rose and I had a hundred and sixty acres, a boat and all summer to explore. When the crops were in and the canning done in the fall it was time to go back to school.

Then everything changed. Winter mornings, we would be up and dressed before daylight. Mama always got up first. If it was cold she lit the fire in the big barrel heater in the bedroom. Then she lit a fire in the cook stove to make breakfast. At the same time the reservoir, built into the stove, was heating water to wash dishes after breakfast. She fixed a hot breakfast of steaming oatmeal or farina and served it with the rich milk from Bossy, our Guernsey milk cow. From the warming oven she would take out hot buns and spread them with thick strawberry jam she had canned the summer before. Our school lunches were either peanut butter or jelly.

I was five when I entered first grade in the fall of 1933. I was told to walk to the mailbox and catch the bus. I walked the three-quarters of a mile to the main road to catch the school bus every day by myself. No one asked, "Can you do it?" "Are you Scared?" "Do you want me to go with you."

I don't remember being scared. I had roamed the local woods around the house and walked to the main road for over two years. Seldom did we see other people except when we went to town.

When winter came I had to ski to the Main Road, hide my skis in the woods and get on the bus. When the bus brought me back, I would pick up my skis and ski on home. I could ski home in less than half the time it took to walk.

In the fall, when I was in the third grade, before my brother started school, there was a porcupine that waited in the road by the big rock. He was there every day when I came home from school. I would throw rocks and yell at him with my nine-year old lungs. He would just stand there and look at me as I threw my tantrum. I had to wait until he decided to cross the road and go off into the woods in his own good time before I dared go on home. I was terrified. I couldn't go around him. There was a fence on one side and bushes along the swamp on the other. It seemed to take him forever to decide to stop torturing me and to leave.

My parents had warned us that if a "porcupine" slapped you with his tail the quills would go in real deep. After all our dog Pal had come home with quills and I had seen Daddy pull them out with pliers while Pal whined and pawed at his nose.

Roger McNeil, the bus driver gathered up the kids from the Shovel Lake area and then swung the school bus south and picked up the kids for five miles along the main road to Outing until he got to our place. We were the last to get on the bus next to the Cass County Line. I'd get in and sit in the seat with Marcella my special friend and we would visit all the way to school.

Roger McNeil didn't like having to go the extra three miles past the last farm to pick up the Vellas kids. Once I didn't get out of class on time and I missed the bus. When he discovered I wasn't there he had to come all the way back to the school get me and was he mad! "Make sure you get out to the bus on time," he told me. "Next time your parents will have to come and get you." I wasn't late again, but I knew it was his job to see that I got home.

Marcella and I were good friends for the eight years we attended Swatara School. The Wilcowski farm was about three miles down the road from us on McKinney Lake. Sometimes I walked to her house to play. Other times she visited at our house. She said she had "Saint Vitus' Dance" which I think was the name for Polio. But, I could never see anything wrong with her.

Marcella's family planted a garden and her dad worked all year on the WPA crew, which meant they had more money than we did. He made thirty dollars a month so they could afford to buy real butter. Sometimes Marcella brought butter sandwiches for lunch and if mine was jelly that day I'd exchange one of my jelly sides for one of her butter sides and we'd each have a home made bread, butter and jelly sandwich. All farm mothers in that day made bread at home.

Another classmate, Betty Cook was an only child and she had a banana for lunch every day. I envied here that banana. I said, "When I grow up I'm going to buy all the bananas I can eat." And I did.

All winter on the farm, my parents were snowed in. The snowplow opened the county road from Swatara to Outing, but our road to the farm was impassable all winter. The only way to town in the winter was to walk out to the main road and catch a ride or walk the seven miles.

Since my parents could not get to town, as the eldest, I was expected to walk down the hill to Trepanier's Store in Swatara, buy groceries and bring them home on the bus in the afternoon. We only needed a few things from town, like sugar, lard, or peanut butter.

On those days I quickly ate my lunch, put on my coat and walked down the hill to Trepanier's Store. I gave George Trepanier the list at the front counter and he walked around the store picking up the few groceries we needed. He wrote them on a pad and charged them to the Vellas Account. (George was a Frenchman. His father, Frank, had migrated from Canada to Minnesota.)

When he finished gathering the groceries and setting them on the counter in front of me and was adding up our bill, I said, "I'd like that piece of penny candy." Pointing to the one I wanted in the large glass case next to the cash register.

Knowing how tight my dad was with money, George Trepanier would ask, "Did your dad say you could buy candy?"

I knew it was wrong. I did. I did. But, I looked him right in the eye and lied, "Yes, Daddy said if I brought home the groceries I could have a penny candy."

I must have been convincing, because he slid back the glass doors and reached into the big glass case below the cash register and picked out the penny candy I had chosen and handed it to me across the counter. On the way returning to school I walked slowly back up the hill savoring each lick, each bite on that candy. This worked so well I did it many times. I never did get caught, which is surprising, as close with money as we were.

The Swatara School was a monument to our town. Built to last forever, it stood as a beacon on the hill overlooking the small town of Swatara in northern Minnesota. (Built in 1921 for $80,000)

In winter, when we arrived at school the building was always warm with heat coming from the radiators under the windows generated by the big furnace in the basement. On the east side of the school there were four-foot lengths of cordwood stacked in long rows.

Inside there was a long hall with shiny hardwood floors and huge doors that opened into classrooms on the east side. The auditorium was on the opposite side. There were stairs on each end of the hall ascending to the upper level. And, best of all, in the bathroom there were two sinks to wash your hands, and toilets that flushed when you stood up, a big change from the outhouse on the farm.

Our teachers were very special people and well respected in the community. We were under their care while we were away from home. We obeyed them because it was expected. Most of us were backwoods kids and very shy. I would never have done anything to make my teacher angry with me. I don't remember any teacher ever being cross.

One year it was so cold waiting for the bus my toes were frostbitten before I got to school. It was very painful and I was crying. My teacher took off my socks and shoes and soaked my feet in cold water until they stopped hurting and returned to normal.

When I was ten, a boy in my class went to the hospital to have his appendix removed. The class wrote him letters and we told him how we missed him. I asked one of the other kids which side the appendix was on and I was told it was the left side. Well, that year I began having attacks of appendicitis. I had terrible pains on my left side. My mother took me to the doctor. He said I had to have an operation. They took me to Brainerd.

But, after the operation the incision was on my right side not my left. I don't know if I really had appendicitis or if I was just faking. I bet my doctor got a big surprise when he cut me open. I think I just wanted the class to write me letters. Then, to top it off, the letters I had gone through so much for came. When? AFTER I got home from the hospital.

Christmas was always a special time at the Swatara School. Each child had a costume and a part in the Christmas play. There was always candy and lots of good things to eat. I especially loved the German cookies Mrs. Gressons made. One Christmas when all the children were in the Christmas play the principal sent the bus out to pick up the snowed in kids and their parents. My mother bundled us all up and our whole family went to the Christmas play. Even the bus ride was wonderful. The bus was warm and Mama brought quilts to put around us and we snuggled up together. Every time the bus stopped the lights went on and my parents greeted the other families that got on the bus. We sat near the front and I could see the headlights on the snow-covered roads. Piled up on the side of the road were huge drifts the snowplow had made for the bus to get through.

One year Mama asked Mrs. Gressens to make a batch of her special German cookies for us. When it came time to pay for them, Daddy said he'd give her cabbage in exchange. She did not like that one bit, but she finally took them. She didn't like us after that. Nor after we lied and kept her pet raccoon.

Walter and Marian Cummings would come up for hunting season in the fall and Daddy would take Walter out to hunt ducks and later he helped him get his deer in deer season. Then at Christmas time the Cummings would send us each of us kids a gift for Christmas and a big box of second hand clothes.

Our teachers were young and pretty. I think I remember most that they were always smiling and happy but serious. I was never scolded by a teacher. I was very shy and well behaved though inside I was screaming to get out and go play on the swings.

One of my teachers taught me to tap dance, which I'll do anywhere, anytime, if I'm asked. Another teacher taught me the "Minnesota State Song" and I have yet to find a fellow Minnesotan to sing it with me! But I try. Anywhere I see a vehicle with a Minnesota license I ask them to sing the State Song with me and give them a copy. One year a teacher started a band and I decided I'd play the harmonica. We all lined up in chairs on the stage. I sat up there on stage with everyone else and played along with the band, but I had no idea how to play the thing. But no one ever said anything. The kid next to me just kinda looked at me.

When I became a teacher, at age forty-five I taught the students in my class the "California State Song" because a teacher cared enough to teach me. I felt it was very important because my state song meant so much to me. I always had special things for my kids to do so they wouldn't have to stare at a clock for hours on end ~ stations where they could play games, read, play the organ or make things. I taught some of my kids tap dancing and I tried to teach the harmonica to others using a book and a tape. And we sang the songs of my youth and songs of history just for the joy of it.

When I was ten, one of my teachers had us memorize and recite poems. Then she said we could write our own poem and recite it to the class.

Well, I liked that idea, but as hard as I tried I couldn't write a poem. So, I asked my aunt, Elsie Berg, a poet, to write one for me. She wrote one about fairies and I proudly read it to the class as my own. But I never felt right about that deed of plagiarism. After that, because of my love for poetry (and partly out of guilt), I began writing my own poems and have continued writing poetry ever since.

I loved when recess came, I would run out the door to be first to the swings on the north side of the school. I could stand up and pump or I could sit and pump my swing up until I was so high I could see all the town of Swatara.

From my swing I had a wonderful view. I could look down on the roofs of the houses along the street just below the school grounds. Swinging higher and higher I would recite the poem by Robert Lewis Stevenson.

"How do you like to go up in the swing...
Up in the air so blue,
Oh I do think it's the pleasantness thing
Ever a child could do."

and end with

"'Til I look down on the grass so green
Down on the roofs so brown.
Up in the air I go flying again
Up in the air and down."

As I looked down on the roofs of town from my swing on the hill, I'd thrill just to be alone with my poem. And of course, this joy I shared with my own class when I became a teacher, standing in the door of my classroom watching the kids who had learned the poem swing while the rest of the class was still memorizing the poem.

The year I was eleven the school began the first "hot lunch" program. Two women, who had been hired as cooks would cook all morning while we were in class. Delicious aromas drifted up to us while we studied. At noon we picked up our lunch pails and went to the cafeteria for lunch. Long tables and benches were set up in the auditorium. The ladies brought us each a big steaming bowl of soup and we'd take out our sandwiches and eat them with our soup. My dad brought in cabbages and rutabagas from our cellar to pay for our share.

The winter I was twelve I got up one morning, pulled on my long stockings over my underwear that came down to my ankles and slipped on my coat over my slip before I dressed because it was so cold and went to eat breakfast. After breakfast, I put on my overshoes to keep out the snow and walked to the bus stop. When I got to school I went to the cloakroom and took off my coat. I looked down to find I was dressed only in my slip. I had forgotten to put on my dress! I had to wear my coat all day and even though it was thirty degrees below zero outside it was one of the hottest days I'd ever spent at school. After that I made sure I put on my dress before I ate breakfast.

When I was thirteen, two of our special teachers, Joe Knapp and Miss Kenny got married. They were neat people and we dearly loved them. We felt very close to them.

As soon as people found out they were married, that evening some of the people in town decided to give them a "shivaree". Connie and I were among the kids invited to go along. We walked along the railroad track for about a mile out to their house taking sticks and pans along to pound on to make a lot of noise.

The "Shivaree" custom was for people to gather at the house of a newlywed and make a lot of noise until the couple let them in and gave them hot cocoa or cake and coffee.

We made so much noise along the way that Joe and Sarah heard us coming and ran out and hid in the barn. We knocked and knocked on the door to the house but no one answered. Then we started looking around and finally Connie discovered them hiding in the haymow. Then, according to tradition they had to treat us. So they walked back to town with us and bought each of us an ice cream cone at the store.

The last day of school was always an exciting time. There were long tables set up in the auditorium. The parents of each child brought in huge bowls of salad, large roasts, big pans of chicken or something from their gardens. Some brought cakes or pies, all homemade from scratch and simply delicious. It was wonderful. We would line up and fill our plate and then sit will our friends and eat.

Outside there were games and races going on. Parents came and sat around and visited while the teachers took the kids outside and participated in the activities. Everyone had a great time. By the end of the day, after saying our good-byes for the summer, we were tired and ready to go home. This was the last time that we would see most of our friends until fall. People only drove to town when it was necessary. Then if they had time they would stop and visit relatives or friends.

Daddy had a few friends he liked. Sometimes he would visit Tom Jamme who lived in Hay Point. Daddy knew him from the early years. On his way to Aitkin, or to the County Seat, Daddy would stop by and visit with Charley Dares who had a bar, dance hall and grocery story on the Bain Corner. He and Charley came to Minnesota from New York together in 1920 and Charley was a Greek, same as Daddy.

Daddy and Mama both knew and liked the Schindles. Sometimes in the summer they would stop by and visit them and we got to know their kids. But mostly we would visit Aunt Elsie and Uncle Fred Berg. We enjoyed our cousins and loved going to their farm and playing in their big red barn. They lived five miles north of Swatara and went to School in Hill City so we didn't get to go to school with them or see them until summer came around.

My school was so strong. Built of brick and stone, I knew it would last forever on the hill overlooking the town of Swatara. How I loved that old school. The town was also proud of that school. Town meetings were held there. Dances held for the young and old alike.

Then in the spring of 1993, my sister Rose and I decided to return to our hometown of Swatara Minnesota, after fifty years, and visit our old home, seven miles west of town, once my grandfather's homestead. I bought a tent trailer and Rose and I set out in the early part of June for Minnesota.

We camped at my cousin's place in Grand Rapids and set out for Swatara in my 4X4 Toyota truck. The main road from Highway 169 into Swatara is paved now, but the country roads including Old Highway 35, the road passing the school, are still gravel.

It was starting to rain as we pulled into Swatara and drove up the hill from Trepanier's Store and stopped across the road from the school. We just sat there in awe, gazing at our old school in all of it's splendor. It was there just as it was when we left for California the winter of '44. We drank in the site so awed with its splendor.

"Could we go in?" Rose asked me, "Do you think they'd let us?"

"Of course, we can, it's a public school. They can only tell us to leave," I told her. As a teacher I knew I could just walk into any school and say, "I'd like to visit your school."

Just then, as we watched, one of the doors at the back of the school swung out, then back. We couldn't believe our eyes. We were shocked silent. We just looked at each other. The school was deserted! We sat there for a while not believing what we saw. It was so saddening. Then I drove on up the hill and pulled in behind the school. I parked near the back entrance and we got out.

As we approached the building we saw the back door hung by one bent hinge and the glass was broken. Part of the frame had come loose. We stepped over the broken glass to enter the downstairs hall.

It was still raining as we entered the building. In the hall the hardwood floors were buckling up from the rain that came through the open trap door in the roof and the broken windows.

In the room that had been the library the shelves were tipped over and left lying on the floor. All the books had been removed. As we climbed the stairs to the upper room, I ran my hand along the beautiful hardwood banisters, still intact; still as beautiful as they had been fifty years ago.

Upstairs where I went to school in 6th, 7th and 8th grades old school books, left behind, lay on the floor getting wet from the slow drizzling rain.

Outside the swings were gone and tall, unmown grass grew where the playground used to be. All around the building from the street to the place where the bus barn used to be was covered with tall grass. It was deathly still. As I walked back to my truck I noticed the sign over the back door that still said, "Consolidated School". But, the school, that once had been the center of my life, was now left to the elements. All that is left are my memories. I wrote this poem with my unshed tears.

"THE OLD SWATARA SCHOOL"
Poem by Stacy Vellas
copyright 1993



Clad in brick and stone
It stands alone
Where I once learned the golden rule.
Now the waving grass
And the broken glass
Marks the end of the Swatara School.

The broken panes
Let in the rains
And the wind whips down the hall.
The swings are gone
I once played on
But, the chimney stands straight and tall.

No one cares
To climb the stairs
Up ~ Up ~ to the upper room.
The doors swing wide
But, it's empty inside
And Joe Knapp and Miss Kenny are gone.

For the years gone by
I want to cry
As I walk through each empty room.
But tears won't heal
The loss I feel
At the plight of the Swatara School.

copyright 1993 Anastasia Vellas

I found George Trepanier and Mrs. Gressens in the Macville Cemetery where I went to visit my grandpa, George Harrington. There, too, on the hill, was the boy who rejected my first crush, Laurence Earl Gobel. He died in a car wreck at age twenty-three.

Robert Knapp said Joe and Sarah now live in Stewartville, Minnesota. And Marcella, my forever friend, died at the age of seventeen from carbon monoxide poisoning, a year after I left for California. She was only seventeen. I found her grave in Grand Rapids.

But Helen Bailey and Karen Nelson, now grandmothers, were there to greet me
Contact Stacy

SWATARA TELEPHONE EXCHANGE
Swatara, Minn. 1933
contributed by Stacy Vellas

-A- Angermo, Conrad 703 -B- Baty, Glenn 607 Bishop, Frank 903 Biskey, John 617 Bock, Henry 510 Bottinean, Francis 508 Boyd, Mrs. Grace 2007 Burke, Henry 507 -C- Carlson, Chas. 1023 Chenvert, A. P. 1019 Chenvert, Frank 506 Clayton, Fred 212 -D- Dixon. Charles 1906 Droppe, Mike 1005 -F- Fetherkile, John 315 First State Bank 401 Fixmer, Geo. 1412 -G- Geisdnrf, Fred Blacksmith 1510 Gorsuch, John 710 Gresson, Ed. 1904 Grulke, Walter 223 Gulden, John 1909 -H- Halstead Fred 614 Hansen, Chas. 201 Harrington Newlon 1912 Heath, E. E. res. 2003 Heath Bros. Store 1601 Heath, A. A. res. 2006 Horsewood, Chas. 1901 -K- Kennedy, W. S. 609 Kenser, Lloyd 520 Klennert, Ernest 1713 Krause, Albert 518 -L- Lidman, Lennert 1003 Lundgren, Harold 517 -M- Manning, Joe 511 McAnnich, Ira 906 McAnnich, L. 0. 1406 MeClain, Otis 509 McNeal, Ralph 1703 McPheeters, R. 1413 Meechan, Emerson 521 Meechan, Geo. 504 Megarry Bros. Store 1523 Morrison Lake Lodge 513 -N- Nelson Bros. Garage 2009 Nelson, F. C. 616 Nickelson, G. 801 -O- O'Konek, J. E. 1203 O'Konek, L. 713 Olds, Frank, Jr. 1007 Olds Restaurant 803 Olds, Ralph 1016 -R- Ramey, A. B. 1903 Richards, J. F. 1706 Rutter, Lee 208 Ryden, Gunder 1410 -S- Secrist, Wm. 515 Seymour, Rose 812 Shaffer, Elmer 512 Swatara School 2001 -T- Thomas, J. 1918 -V- Vedder, Elbert 216 -W- Ward, Wm. 215 Wenker, S. C. 608 Winegarner, Wm. 219 Wilcowski, Wm. 1907 -Z- Zealand, F. E. Store 2015

"BOYDVILLE BECOMES SWATARA"

Excerpt from "Beyond the Circle"
by Leo Trunt

Published with Permission of the Author
Transcribed by Karen Klennert
For Purchasing Information, Contact Leo Trunt

Very little is known about the inhabitants of the Swatara area before white settlers came. The U. S. government surveyors make note of Indian activity around Moose Lake and the presence of a trail that the Indians used in their travels. The trail basically went north and south from Aitkin to Hill Lake and on to Pokegama Lake. Early accounts of just who these Indian families were and how long they had been living there are conflicting. Some infer that they had always been there and others say they had recently moved in. One account is recorded as: "Just below the Spur lived the Chippewa Indians, most of them relatives and descendants of Tom Skinaway. Many are under the impression they were the first people up here, but not so. These Indians moved in after Boyd had his ranch and were hired to cut hay for him to be used in his logging operations. He brought them up from Mille Lacs Lake Reservation. They set up their teepees among the birch trees there. The men cut hay from surrounding meadows with scythes and slid the hay on two poles into stacks. They must have done a satisfactory job as they were there many years. Another reason they came was the plentiful supply of birch bark available that they used in making canoes. The women were the ones most adept at this and they made quite a few each year. They were well made and were sold at fairly good prices. Mrs. Tom Skinaway was widely known for her knowledge of a dozen different kinds of herbs and roots that she collected and processed....Some of the men worked in the woods and were good drivers on the spring drives. Just below their camp was another small graveyard that they used, so it must have been the first cemetery. It had been used by other Indians and then Tom Skinaway's people. This camp was used until the early thirties when many went back to Mille Lacs or scattered to other parts. After Tom passed away none lived here." (A century of Pioneering Pioneers, page 61--Frank and Jennie Hutz interview)



Early Map of Northern Aitkin County, 1920
Courtesy of Aitkin County Land Department

In the early years before the railroad came, the Swatara area was a total wilderness. Logging was the main activity from 1870 to 1910. There were numerous logging companies during this time period that were using the Willow and Moose Rivers for the driving of logs. This was the easiest way to transport the logs to markets in Minneapolis, which was then a big sawmill town. Fred Blair, James Boyd and others were actively engaged in the logging business during that time period.

James "Jim" Boyd had come from Canada in 1878. He spent some time working at a mill in Minneapolis and then moved to Aitkin in 1882. It was about that time when Jim became employed by the U. S. Postal Service to carry mail over the old Indian trail from Aitkin to Grand Rapids. Jim was employed by D. J. Knox at his sawmill, and then he went into the logging business with his partner Mr. McMonagle. Jim bought his ranch in 1898, which was located south of the Moose River about a mile and a half from Swatara. He built a livery stable and for some years "Boyd's Ranch" was a popular stopping place for weary travelers. Other stopping places in the area were the Allen Ranch, the Polly Ranch, the Waldeck Ranch and Welsh's Ranch. (Ibid, Page 50--Carlton Bailey interview)

Jim became postmaster for the area on September 14, 1903. Jim had petitioned the post office to be called "Boydville". The postal service apparently would not accept the name and so they changed it to "Swatara." The name was apparently derived from Swatara Township, Pennsylvania. It is not known where the name originated. "One source has stated the meaning as 'between two rivers' and another 'three lights'. A search of Indian languages sheds no light on the above two meanings. (Per letter written by Harvey F. Trepanier dated 5/15/1975) In any event, the name seems appropriate as the village lies between two rivers. Jim continued as such until April 29, 1908. Why he gave up the post is not known. On February 15, 1911 Art Heath resurrected the post office at the town site of Swatara. Jim also was the state census taker for Macville Township in 1905. Among the various inhabitants of the township, he noted that J. Shriver was the local blacksmith.

A. H. (Ace) Young came to Aitkin in 1901 and settled on his homestead on the east side of Lake McKenney in 1909. In 1910 after the Soo Line was built, Ace joined Jim Boyd in a logging operation at "Spur 296" or "Boyd and Young's Spur." This was just south of Swatara about a mile and a half down the Soo towards Bain. Carlton Bailey relates the following. ".....Boyd and Young had a lumber mill, a shingle mill and a planing mill at the spur. They had several logging camps which included the following locations: At the spur, at a place southeast of Boyd's ranch, near the Polly Ranch, in Swatara, and a sawmill with a shingle mill in the Lake Edna area....." (A century of Pioneering Pioneers, page 50--Carlton Bailey interview)

The Aitkin Age also tells of Boyd and Young's Spur: "They are running their (shingle) mill night and day and cutting 36,000 shingles every twenty-four hours. They also have a crew of thirty-five men in the woods getting out cedar, etc., and the amount of cedar they have strung along Moose River is amazing." (Aitkin Independent Age--March 9, 1910)

Besides the logging operation, they had quite a large warehouse and also a store where they supplied the needs of the community and their quite extensive logging operations. "They carried on at this location until 1916, when they moved in Swatara after having built what was known as Boyd and Young's 'Big Store'. (A Century of Pioneering Pioneers, pages 50-51)

"We hauled logs to Boyd and Young's Spur where they had a mill and also a building. (It was) quite a large one that had an office in one end (which) was the only part heated. The main part was a huge grocery and hardware warehouse. You would come into the office and tell Ace Young what you wanted and he'd take you order and then put on his coat, cap and mittens and load up what you wanted. Everything was sold in quantity and they didn't even have a scale. Flour was sold by the 100 pound sack and the same for sugar. All other items by the box or the case." (Ibid, page 8--Alphonso Olds interview)



Boyd and Young Letterhead

This store was to be of considerable importance in the early life of the community. "....Boyd and Young erected a large 60 by 24 two story building in Swatara. (It was) a two story building with the first story used for grocery and hardware and the second story was used as a community hall. For many years this was the center of all community activities. It served on Saturday nights as a dance hall, on Sunday mornings and afternoons as a Sunday school and for church services. Boyd and Young ran this business from 1916 to 1919 when they sold out to the Heath brothers." (Ibid, page 52) Boyd and Young still had some business going on as late as 1920, when they sold dynamite to the town of Lemay. (Town of Lemay claim, Aitkin County Land Dept. records, dated 9/20/1920)