Title
ZENITH, NORTH DAKOTA A TOWN THAT WAS, AND IS NOT . . .
Creator
Caroline Buckman
Coverage
TOWNSHIP 139N RANGE 98W
Text
ZENITH, NORTH DAKOTA A TOWN THAT WAS, AND IS NOT . . .
The founder, and the one who had more to do with the building of that place, than any other man, was Mr. Henry Truelson. He was born in Germany in 1844, in one of the three northern provinces, Schleswig-Holsten, which at that tune was a part of Denmark, but lost to Germany at the end of the Danish-Prussian War of 1864. He was then a young man of 20, and decided to try his luck in America. After a long, stormy, and eventful journey, as it always was in those days, he landed at Duluth, Minn., a town in its early beginning, and named for an early explorer, Daniel Greysolan Duluth, and also Jay Cook. These men saw great possibilities in this place situated as it was at the western end of Lake Superior. Jay Cook had financed a larger part of the Civil War for the Union Government and now he was willing to bet on a railroad and put his finances into such an enterprise — building out in the wilds of the West. But as has so often been the case, he met with scorn and ridicule such as “It is all foolishness, Jay”, “It won’t work”, “There is no train crew who can keep up fires and steam in this place”, “Why, it gets so cold here in winter it will freeze the smokestacks off the locomotives!” But in spite of this, Jay Cook and his faithful associates went on building in more ways than one.
The city was called Jay Cook's Bubble, which was bound to burst sooner or later. For in many minds, it was doomed to failure from the start. Yet work went on, and the 22nd of August, 1870, the first train of the Northern Pacific was coming into Duluth, and work progressed so fast that there was a steady run of trains between Duluth and Brainerd by March, 1871. A building boom was now on in earnest. Now it was no more Jay Cook's Bubble! It was named the Zenith City and that is how our little village of Zenith got its name . . For, said Mr. Truelson at his first coming here, “There is no doubt but that a second Duluth is here in the making.”
These were some of the dark pictures that Tom Lane may have brought home with him, yet it is true, and not one bit exaggerated. “But”, said he, “I believe I have something that will make you a better deal. I saw, and hear quite a bit about mining coal, and much of that land is underlayed by a vein of solid coal. As I was traveling on the train west of Dickinson, and near Belfield, I saw such a vein cropping out near the railroad. Must have been 18 and 20 feet thick. A wonderful place to dig. That coal should be in great demand on eastern markets. Even in our own city of Duluth people would think it a heaven on earth if they could get all they could use. Much of that land can also be taken as homesteads. Only a small investment is needed and you can be mining and shipping coal.” Yes, it all sounded lovely. A delegation was sent to look things over. Mr. Lane, of course, was to be the leader and spokesman, who could lead them to the very spot and who wouldn’t be convinced by the looks of things. There was the Knutson Flat, as we called it, then the railroad, and Heart River running side by side through the middle of it. The land to the south had a gentle slope upward. A nicer place for a town would be hard to find any place along the line. On the north was the coal in open sight, and the hills back of it. There should be coal to mine for 1000 years. A company was organized in Duluth with Hanson Evesmith, president; Truelson, vice-president and general manager. Mr. Lane was to be the outside boss and handyman about the mine. The main office was to remain in Duluth, in care of Evesmith, and to him all reports and book-keeping must be sent for analysis and study. In other words, he was to sit in a swivel chair, his feet up high, and rake in the sheckles. Mr. Truelson was to have the responsibility, work and worry, getting the project started and keeping it going. It came to be a big job, much more than at first anticipated. There was much figuring and planning and soon it came to be known that he had gone into a trap from which he could not back out. At least that was how he felt, because he would not break a single promise once he had made it. He was a second Abraham Lincoln in that respect. Because of that he came to lead a hard life, full of sorrow, worry and trouble without end.
During the fall and winter of 1901-02 a deal had been closed with Joe Knutson for that part of his homestead which was north of the railroad, or $20 per acre. That was high, never-heard-of, price in those days, but they now had foothold and the machinery was set in motion. It came to be a busy place, as there were a hundred and one things to get ready. It was similar to that of outfitting ar expedition for a trio to the South Pole. First on the agenda was housing for the men. As yet there was no Zenith. There were no sidetracks where a car could be left long enough to be unloaded, so all tools, lumber and provisions had to be hauled from old South Heart by mule teams. Mr. and Mrs. John Bartly had just completed a new store building at that place. He was also the postman, and to him we had to go for our mail and needed supplies. Mr. Bartley was an old retired engineer. I worked a lot for him and he told me many an interesting story about early railroads up until that time, from the earliest times. The post office had been in the basement of Mr. and Mrs. William Kennedy. I believe that was South Heart's first post office. Mr. Kennedy was, and had for many years, been section boss on the East Section, but also the legally appointed postmaster. His younger daughter, 16, was his assistant, and was always on the job and boy was she a peach. How I liked to be sent after that mail, to get another look at that girl! Yes, a five mile walk seemed as though it was only a half. Every foot of the way debating within myself what to say first. Would she someday be willing to dig herself into a sidehill with me? I just wondered. But, alas, it was not to be so. A young man, Joe Malone was his name, appeared on the stage of action, and the first thing I knew he had taken over.
It may be of interest to take a little round trip with Joe Knutson. He too, may be called a father of Zenith, in that it was on his homestead that our little town was mapped out and located. He and Mr. Murry were the two very early settlers I came to know, and from them I learned much which has been of great interest to me, and still remember.
Back to 1902. “It won’t take much capital to get going,” Tom Lane said. That, they were about to find out first, after the buildings, a bridge must be built across the river, then the long trestle works, several hundred feet upward to get the right elevation for the tipple. It took carloads of heavy lumber to do it all. Then, bargaining with the Railway Company for switches and spur leading nearly ¼ mile into the mine. Steel, ties and labor — cash. The railroad was in no hurry. There was always some excuse — if nothing else there was a shortage of rails. “Everything else is ready,” said Henry, “We must get out coal. Pile it up outside, and if the railway company ever gets that track in we will push it right in the cars in a hurry.” This was lignite coal and when the sun and wind got to it, it soon was pushed into the creek. This, their first loss in money and in labor, made things more aggravating. It got on Henry's nerves and no sign of track yet. To make matters worse, he must go on a trip East to have it out with the higher officials. He felt he was well enough heated up to speak his mind.
All had gone well at the mine and we had come to March 21, 1907 when the first disaster struck. It was late spring. There had been much snow and it was melting fast. Water was overflowing creeks and low lands. All was an ocean, although not as high as the 1906 flood which has broken all records before and after . . The next incident which caused us considerable delay was when we, on the morning of Aug. 29, 1909, found our two mules killed at the railroad. It nearly made us all cry, and none the less Mr. Truelson himself. It was a struggle for the company to keep their heads above water and much of their planning never was realized. Mr. Truelson had the worry, and trouble without end. There was more and more water all the time, and larger pumps had to be installed, as well as a larger steam boiler to keep them going. Three firemen were on the job on eight-hour shifts, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. There were no Sundays or Holy Days on that job, even during the summer months when there was no call for coal. He was stern and resolute in his ways, but honest, fair, and square in all his dealings with his men. Is it any wonder that the city of Duluth so deeply regretted to see him go?
So did many of us here, when he had to leave us in 1918. To me Zenith never was the same. In all the hardships he had to endure, trouble within and without, worry, and sorrows, he had no companion in which to confide. Still he loved this little place he had named and in which he had hoped for so much.
And now back to Zenith. For all of those who had a part in the building up of that place, I wish to pay tribute. But first, to the two who stuck it out, and are still with us, Mr. Ted Sanders and William Zarak. Had it not been for them there would not be a spark left to show there ever was a Zenith. As told to me by Zarak himself, and therefore I feel free to write. His mother died in the old country when he was only two. Then too young to know what a real mother's love can mean to a boy, yet he has left us a worthy example that even so, a boy can make good in the world.
Highlights of Zenith, North Dakota history by Pete Jensen, who worked as a “mule-skinner” for three years in the Zenith mines.
By Caroline Buckman
The founder, and the one who had more to do with the building of that place, than any other man, was Mr. Henry Truelson. He was born in Germany in 1844, in one of the three northern provinces, Schleswig-Holsten, which at that tune was a part of Denmark, but lost to Germany at the end of the Danish-Prussian War of 1864. He was then a young man of 20, and decided to try his luck in America. After a long, stormy, and eventful journey, as it always was in those days, he landed at Duluth, Minn., a town in its early beginning, and named for an early explorer, Daniel Greysolan Duluth, and also Jay Cook. These men saw great possibilities in this place situated as it was at the western end of Lake Superior. Jay Cook had financed a larger part of the Civil War for the Union Government and now he was willing to bet on a railroad and put his finances into such an enterprise — building out in the wilds of the West. But as has so often been the case, he met with scorn and ridicule such as “It is all foolishness, Jay”, “It won’t work”, “There is no train crew who can keep up fires and steam in this place”, “Why, it gets so cold here in winter it will freeze the smokestacks off the locomotives!” But in spite of this, Jay Cook and his faithful associates went on building in more ways than one.
The city was called Jay Cook's Bubble, which was bound to burst sooner or later. For in many minds, it was doomed to failure from the start. Yet work went on, and the 22nd of August, 1870, the first train of the Northern Pacific was coming into Duluth, and work progressed so fast that there was a steady run of trains between Duluth and Brainerd by March, 1871. A building boom was now on in earnest. Now it was no more Jay Cook's Bubble! It was named the Zenith City and that is how our little village of Zenith got its name . . For, said Mr. Truelson at his first coming here, “There is no doubt but that a second Duluth is here in the making.”
These were some of the dark pictures that Tom Lane may have brought home with him, yet it is true, and not one bit exaggerated. “But”, said he, “I believe I have something that will make you a better deal. I saw, and hear quite a bit about mining coal, and much of that land is underlayed by a vein of solid coal. As I was traveling on the train west of Dickinson, and near Belfield, I saw such a vein cropping out near the railroad. Must have been 18 and 20 feet thick. A wonderful place to dig. That coal should be in great demand on eastern markets. Even in our own city of Duluth people would think it a heaven on earth if they could get all they could use. Much of that land can also be taken as homesteads. Only a small investment is needed and you can be mining and shipping coal.” Yes, it all sounded lovely. A delegation was sent to look things over. Mr. Lane, of course, was to be the leader and spokesman, who could lead them to the very spot and who wouldn’t be convinced by the looks of things. There was the Knutson Flat, as we called it, then the railroad, and Heart River running side by side through the middle of it. The land to the south had a gentle slope upward. A nicer place for a town would be hard to find any place along the line. On the north was the coal in open sight, and the hills back of it. There should be coal to mine for 1000 years. A company was organized in Duluth with Hanson Evesmith, president; Truelson, vice-president and general manager. Mr. Lane was to be the outside boss and handyman about the mine. The main office was to remain in Duluth, in care of Evesmith, and to him all reports and book-keeping must be sent for analysis and study. In other words, he was to sit in a swivel chair, his feet up high, and rake in the sheckles. Mr. Truelson was to have the responsibility, work and worry, getting the project started and keeping it going. It came to be a big job, much more than at first anticipated. There was much figuring and planning and soon it came to be known that he had gone into a trap from which he could not back out. At least that was how he felt, because he would not break a single promise once he had made it. He was a second Abraham Lincoln in that respect. Because of that he came to lead a hard life, full of sorrow, worry and trouble without end.
During the fall and winter of 1901-02 a deal had been closed with Joe Knutson for that part of his homestead which was north of the railroad, or $20 per acre. That was high, never-heard-of, price in those days, but they now had foothold and the machinery was set in motion. It came to be a busy place, as there were a hundred and one things to get ready. It was similar to that of outfitting ar expedition for a trio to the South Pole. First on the agenda was housing for the men. As yet there was no Zenith. There were no sidetracks where a car could be left long enough to be unloaded, so all tools, lumber and provisions had to be hauled from old South Heart by mule teams. Mr. and Mrs. John Bartly had just completed a new store building at that place. He was also the postman, and to him we had to go for our mail and needed supplies. Mr. Bartley was an old retired engineer. I worked a lot for him and he told me many an interesting story about early railroads up until that time, from the earliest times. The post office had been in the basement of Mr. and Mrs. William Kennedy. I believe that was South Heart's first post office. Mr. Kennedy was, and had for many years, been section boss on the East Section, but also the legally appointed postmaster. His younger daughter, 16, was his assistant, and was always on the job and boy was she a peach. How I liked to be sent after that mail, to get another look at that girl! Yes, a five mile walk seemed as though it was only a half. Every foot of the way debating within myself what to say first. Would she someday be willing to dig herself into a sidehill with me? I just wondered. But, alas, it was not to be so. A young man, Joe Malone was his name, appeared on the stage of action, and the first thing I knew he had taken over.
It may be of interest to take a little round trip with Joe Knutson. He too, may be called a father of Zenith, in that it was on his homestead that our little town was mapped out and located. He and Mr. Murry were the two very early settlers I came to know, and from them I learned much which has been of great interest to me, and still remember.
Back to 1902. “It won’t take much capital to get going,” Tom Lane said. That, they were about to find out first, after the buildings, a bridge must be built across the river, then the long trestle works, several hundred feet upward to get the right elevation for the tipple. It took carloads of heavy lumber to do it all. Then, bargaining with the Railway Company for switches and spur leading nearly ¼ mile into the mine. Steel, ties and labor — cash. The railroad was in no hurry. There was always some excuse — if nothing else there was a shortage of rails. “Everything else is ready,” said Henry, “We must get out coal. Pile it up outside, and if the railway company ever gets that track in we will push it right in the cars in a hurry.” This was lignite coal and when the sun and wind got to it, it soon was pushed into the creek. This, their first loss in money and in labor, made things more aggravating. It got on Henry's nerves and no sign of track yet. To make matters worse, he must go on a trip East to have it out with the higher officials. He felt he was well enough heated up to speak his mind.
All had gone well at the mine and we had come to March 21, 1907 when the first disaster struck. It was late spring. There had been much snow and it was melting fast. Water was overflowing creeks and low lands. All was an ocean, although not as high as the 1906 flood which has broken all records before and after . . The next incident which caused us considerable delay was when we, on the morning of Aug. 29, 1909, found our two mules killed at the railroad. It nearly made us all cry, and none the less Mr. Truelson himself. It was a struggle for the company to keep their heads above water and much of their planning never was realized. Mr. Truelson had the worry, and trouble without end. There was more and more water all the time, and larger pumps had to be installed, as well as a larger steam boiler to keep them going. Three firemen were on the job on eight-hour shifts, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. There were no Sundays or Holy Days on that job, even during the summer months when there was no call for coal. He was stern and resolute in his ways, but honest, fair, and square in all his dealings with his men. Is it any wonder that the city of Duluth so deeply regretted to see him go?
So did many of us here, when he had to leave us in 1918. To me Zenith never was the same. In all the hardships he had to endure, trouble within and without, worry, and sorrows, he had no companion in which to confide. Still he loved this little place he had named and in which he had hoped for so much.
And now back to Zenith. For all of those who had a part in the building up of that place, I wish to pay tribute. But first, to the two who stuck it out, and are still with us, Mr. Ted Sanders and William Zarak. Had it not been for them there would not be a spark left to show there ever was a Zenith. As told to me by Zarak himself, and therefore I feel free to write. His mother died in the old country when he was only two. Then too young to know what a real mother's love can mean to a boy, yet he has left us a worthy example that even so, a boy can make good in the world.
Highlights of Zenith, North Dakota history by Pete Jensen, who worked as a “mule-skinner” for three years in the Zenith mines.
By Caroline Buckman