St Margarets Academy - Dayseye Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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7 jc Dayesve w i Our City A Short Story HPhe story of Minneapolis. like the story of many western cities, reads like a fairy tale. It is the story of a golden dream come true. It is the story of a rainbow promise crystallized into changeless tints. It is the story of the life-work of a true-hearted. God-fearing generation, lured by the call of the West to the Land of sky-blue Waters. The setting wafts us back some two hundred years, to the Falls of St. Anthony, where, on a sultry August day. Father Hennepin, then a Sioux captive, stood at the head of the splashing waters, and raising his cross, gave them the name which has not been washed away. Nearly a century later. Carver stood gazing upon these same falls, and envisioned a great empire due to the development of their vast power. But neither the rapture of a Hennepin nor the prophecy of a Carver gave us our beautiful City, our Minneapolis of today. This transformation of a wilderness into a great metropolis: of wild hunting grounds into homes, and parks, and gardens: of tepees and wigwams into majestic buildings for business, church and school, was not wrought by a fairy wand. It is the monument reared by the courage, the faith, the sacrifice of that noble band of pioneers, who laid their foundations upon a rock, and in passing on. handed the torch of vision to their children, and their children’s children. To all these it is due that railroads and paved highways cover Indian and camp wagon trails: that the honk horn and the traffic whistle have hushed the howl of the wolf: that the chime of bells calling to worship have silenced the war whoop of Chippewa and Sioux: that the anvil replaces the tomahawk, and the cross the calumet. May all honor be to the makers and the builders of our City: and all glory to the good God who gave them the place and the spirit to build. 24

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 And I am blessed beyond compare while with benignant looks From home's familiar shelves they smile, my pleasant world of books. 23

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‘Dayesye ST. ANTHONY FALLS IN 1855 A Minneapolis Rip Van Winkle WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Mississippi must remember the beautiful little village which later became Minneapolis. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day produced some alteration in the magical mists and hues that hung over the river city, especially at dawn and dusk. Some three score and ten years ago. there lived in that growing village, a simple, good-natured man who won for himself the famous title Rip Van Winkle. Although of a peaceable and neighborly disposition. Rip had an unconquerable aversion for all profitable labor, especially about his own place. Mrs. Van Winkle being very thrifty, often tried to arouse Rip from his lethargy by a good tongue thrashing. On such occasions. Rip only shrugged his shoulders, whistled to his dog. Zip. and quietly slunk away. One sultry summer morning after the customary kitchen lecture. Rip set out to fish. Accompanied by Zip. he wandered down the street, passing the private school of Miss Electa Backus, and meeting and chatting with many of his friends. Pierre Bottineau always annoyed Rip by declaring that his house was older than the Van Winkle home. Disgusted. Rip left him and went on down the street. He passed W. R. Marshall's store and the Godfrey and Steele saw-mill. Godfrey stopped him at the Post Office, and told him of his new daughter, the first white child born in the village. When Rip finally reached the river, he had to wait for the ferry. Above him. on the bank, was the new University, in process of construction. A steamer was chugging into St. Anthony. the first to come so far up the river. A large group of people awaited it. The Mayor. H. T. Wells, was talking to Robert Smith and Colonel J. H. Stevens, ex-soldiers of the Mexican war. who had settled on the military reservation. The editor of the St. Anthony Express also anxiously awaited the steamer, to get news for his paper. Rip picked up his fishing pole, whistled to Zip. and went on up the river about a mile. Sitting against a tree, he threw out a line and drowsily watched the water. After a few minutes, he began to nod. Soon he was fast asleep, and he slept, and slept. And hereby hangs my tale. 25