It must have been in 1930. At any rate, the wagon being pulled by Dexter and Prince was not the one we children were accustomed to seeing. We knew it was not the grain wagon that we used as a sleigh in winter over 2 1/2 miles to the Westley School in Sverdrup Township. Clearly, it was not the hay wagon either. No, it was something with an oddly round shape and we learned it was a water wagon. The well had run dry and water had to be hauled from the Sheyenne River.
Melvin and Bertha Helmer were then living on the Lunde farm just south of the Jacob Stokka farm. After a bit we grew accustomed to being able to write our names in the fine black silt that drifted onto the kitchen table during the night in spite of my mother's efforts to seal all windows and doors. A dear elderly lady was certain it was the end of the world when the sun grew dark at noon from the clouds of top soil lifted by the western winds.
One day when Louise and I were longing for a swim we used the horse trough for an afternoon of splashing. We thought it would never be discovered but when the horses refused to drink we were found out.
Finally, when nothing grew but Russian Thistle, Melvin and Bertha moved to Hannaford where Melvin became the town Marshall. They lived in the house next door to the Harvey Bensons. Bertha, an obstetrical nurse from Norway was very proud of her official letter from the governor of North Dakota granting her permission to practice obstetrics in the state. Of course they called her a midwife, a term that she regarded as pejorative since it denoted any elderly lady who could deliver babies. It followed that she was kept busy delivering babies for those who could not afford a doctor. Her pay was most often a turkey, a chicken or some edible provision; rarely was it money. Mom was forever reminding us that she had trained under the renowned Dr. Brandt at the Women's Clinic in Oslo, Norway.
They brought one cow with them to town and what seemingly miraculous treats my mother could produce from the milk that Betsy gave. Ice cream became a regular Sunday feature and yet all the skim milk she gave to a family with six children who had no cow. They also had chickens with them from the farm and for many people milk, butter and eggs became the foundation for a great variety of healthful foods.
But what did a town Marshall do in those days? It was his job to supervise all the local dances and to get the drunks off the street. Of course many of the old landmarks have long since disappeared but to us it seemed a big main street. It happened there was a vacant building there and the Marshall’s job was to lock up the drunks overnight in that empty building which became known as the village jail. It must have been a relief to many a wife that her husband could "sleep it off" before coming home as an angry or suicidal or violent drunk.
It was a time of much neighborly exchange. Who thinks of going next door to borrow a couple eggs or some baking powder in the cities of our land? Though the town was small, it bustled with many activities generated by the school and the two churches, the Lutheran and Presbyterian. All social activities, whether potluck suppers or school contests, were all the more important for being in a small town. It was not a dead town by any means!
An interesting highlight of the Helmers time in Hannaford took place when their daughter, Louise Thoverud Helmer, had the first church wedding that the town had seen in 30 years. It took place in the Presbyterian Church when Louise married Norman Anderson of Grand Forks, North Dakota, September 12, 1936. Norman's four sisters were bridesmaids and Louise's sister, Ruthe, was maid of honor. Louise wore a white satin and Alencon lace gown and her veil was a copy of the Woolworth heiress' Barbara Hutton's wedding veil. Since we could not beg, borrow or steal silver lame in Hannaford or Cooperstown, we saved the silver wrapping from the nickel Hershey bars. These were carefully spread on white net and stuffed with cotton to make a roll that could be shaped into a coronet holding the veil.
After eight years as town Marshall, Melvin and Bertha moved to Fargo, North Dakota, where Melvin worked as a guard in the Armour Plant. In 1950, they moved to Sacramento, California, where they have lived ever since, though Bertha died in 1978, just two weeks before her 86th birthday. Melvin lives alone in their neat retirement apartment where he is greatly loved by all who know him. Indeed, friends are arranging to celebrate his 91st birthday with a party at his apartment. They promised to bring folding chairs! Melvin is in excellent health and according to a business associate, is more keen and alert mentally than many a much younger person!
It should be added that the friends who are giving the party, since Louise died this past January, are also Dakotans who survived the great depression. During the '30s, they worked as a couple on a Dakota farm where they had 46 cattle to feed, 200 hogs, 40 chickens and 12 cows to milk twice a day for $30 per month for the two of them! It was a time when the grasshoppers were so thick they darkened the sun! Out of that meager salary they paid $8.00 a month on a second hand Chevy, vintage 1932. It was a time when a new Chevy could be had for $800.
The following is my tribute to North Dakota: