Oddball Minnesota: A Guide to Some Really Strange Places

By Jerome Pohlen

Land of the world’s largest prairie chicken, birthplace of Spam, and home of the world’s oldest rock, this is Minnesota, where summers are short, winters are long, and back-road wonders abound. This entertaining guide wastes no time with descriptions of scenic lakes, pristine bike trails, or quaint cafés. Instead it directs travelers (and residents) to the spot where Tiny Tim strummed his last notes on the ukulele; to the Cold Spring chapel where two grasshoppers bow down to the Virgin Mary; and to the McLeod County Museum, where the mummy on display could be from Peru or outer space. While ordinary tourists are fighting off mosquitoes in the Boundary Waters, oddball travelers can size up the world’s largest ear of corn and admire the fourth Zamboni ever built. And one last thing: there aren’t 10,000 lakes in Minnesota; there are 14,215. For travelers who are in search of the unusual, there is no better reason to park the bike and hiking boots in the garage, fill up the gas tank, and hit the road to Minnesota, where weirdness awaits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chicago Review Press
• Release date: Apr 1, 2003
• ISBN: 9781569764701

Book preview

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INTRODUCTION

I’ve never fully understood Minnesota’s state slogan: Land of 10,000 Lakes. OK, sure, the lakes are beautiful—no, breathtaking—but what’s this obsession with numbers? Don’t you lose track after the first hundred or so? Why not Land of 382 Million Trees or Land of 947 Billion Wild-flowers? At some point the law of diminishing returns has to kick in. It is an arithmetic fact that the more items you have in a group, the less unique each item in that group is. Arizona: Land of 1 Lake. Now that’s a slogan!

What if—and this is just a suggestion—Minnesota touted one of its many one-of-a-kind features? Land of the World’s Largest Prairie Chicken. Birthplace of Spam. Home of the World’s Oldest Rock. Do you see the difference? If so, this guide is for you.

Oddball Minnesota won’t waste your time telling you about attractions you can find by simply walking a mile in any direction. No lakes, no bike trails, no quaint cafés. But where did Tiny Tim strum his last notes on the ukulele? Why are two grasshoppers bowing down to the Virgin Mary in a Cold Spring chapel? Is that mummy in the McLeod County Museum from Peru … or outer space?!!?! These are the types of questions you’ll have answered as you search for the strange on Minnesota’s backroads.

Oh, I know it sounds crazy. But while all your friends and coworkers are spending their vacations fighting off mosquitoes in the Boundary Waters, you’ll be sizing up the World’s Largest Ear of Corn. While they stare for hours at holes in frozen lakes, you’ll be admiring the fourth Zamboni ever built. Who’s crazy now?

Well, you still are. But don’t let that stop you. Put that canoe in dry dock. Hang the bike and the fishing pole in the garage. Fill up the tank and grab your atlas—the weirdness awaits!

And one last thing; there aren’t 10,000 lakes in Minnesota, there are 14,215. That’s 14,214 more lakes than there are six-story statues of the Jolly Green Giant. Do you need any other reason to hit the road?

While I’ve tried to give clear directions from major streets and landmarks, you could still make a wrong turn. Winter comes early in these parts—August, I think—so it’s not a good idea to be lost for too long. Here are a few tips for getting out of a jam and making the most of your Oddball road trip:

Stop and ask! For a lot of communities, their Oddball attractions might be their only claim to fame. Locals are often thrilled that you’d drive out of your way to marvel at their gigantic fiberglass creature, especially during the dead of winter. But choose your guides wisely. Old farmers at the grain elevator are a good source of information; pimply teenage clerks at Casey’s General Store are not.

Call ahead. Few Oddball sites keep regular hours, but most will gladly wait around if they know you’re coming. Don’t forget that as soon as the lakes freeze over, the folks who run these strange attractions are out snowmobiling, ice fishing, or digging out of snowdrifts. Always call.

Recheck your compass. Many towns in Minnesota, for reasons that might seem practical but end up being infuriating, repeat their numbered street names. In a town that consists of only 25 blocks, it is not uncommon to find two First Streets and two First Avenues. East-west running First Streets are distinguished from one another by being named First Street N and First Street S, both one block from Main Street. In other words, you’ll find four very similar street addresses: 101 E. First Street N, 101 W. First Street N, 101 E. First Street S, and 101 W. First Street S. Add into the equation north-south running avenues, east and west of, say, Center Street—101 N. First Avenue E, 101 S. First Avenue E, 101 N. First Avenue W, and 101 S. First Avenue W—well, you get the picture. Start banging your head on the dashboard now.

Don’t give up. It is no small feat to raise $12,000 for a 21-foot-long floating loon to put on the town’s lake, to say nothing of maintaining it so it doesn’t sink. These communities never gave up, and neither should you.

Don’t trespass! Don’t become a Terrible Tourist. Don’t climb on the statues. Don’t trespass on private land. When in doubt, ask permission, or stay on the road.

Do you have an Oddball site of your own? Have I missed anything? Do you know of a location that should be included in a later edition? Please write and let me know: Chicago Review Press, 814 N. Franklin Street, Chicago, IL 60610.

1

THE NORTHWEST

So where should you start your quest for Minnesota’s oddballs? Perhaps at Minnesota’s Northwest Angle on the Lake of the Woods. Jutting up above the 49th Parallel, this geographic anomaly is the northernmost point of the continental United States. Unfortunately, it is accessible only through Canada; it might as well be in a foreign country. (Maybe that’s why its few residents have threatened to secede from the union.)

Still, the northwestern part of the state has plenty of easily accessed weirdness, most of it enormous and hard to miss. This comes in handy if you’re not good with maps. The region also has the state’s highest concentration of Paul Bunyanalia—red-flanneled statues, oversized artifacts, jilted sweethearts, abandoned logging tools, and toenail clippings. You can even find Bunyan’s grave up here.

But that’s not all that’s strange and out of proportion. There must be growth hormones in the water; you’ll also find mammoth mallards and otters and prairie chickens and crows and grasshoppers and pelicans and coots—you start to wonder whether this stuff is truly big, or whether you’ve just shrunk!

Hop on up!

Akeley

Paul Bunyan Town

Bangor, Maine, claims to be the birthplace of Paul Bunyan, but it hardly has as valid a claim as Akeley, Minnesota. You see, Paul wasn’t so much born as he was conceived—and not as long ago as you might think. The big guy was mostly the invention of William B. Laughead, a PR hack for the Red River Lumber Company, which had its largest sawmill in Akeley. Starting in 1914—that’s right, Paul Bunyan is younger than the airplane— Laughead churned out pulp novels of the hero’s exploits for American schoolchildren. Kids adored the oversized, fun-lovin’ lumberjack chopping through our nation’s forests. Never mind that in reality the woods were being laid to waste by a vast timber conglomerate. Laughead also invented Babe the Blue Ox, Big Ole, Johnny Inkslinger, and Paul’s dog Sport.

The best place to learn about Paul Bunyan and the history of the Red River Lumber Company is at Paul’s Cabin, a museum you enter through a Phillips 66 station on the east side of Akeley. Owner Nels Kramer will likely be there to show you his extensive collection of Red River memorabilia.

The museum is shaped like a starfish with exhibits radiating out from a central display area. One wing has an elaborate model of Akeley during the heyday of the Red River lumber mill, circa 1905. Another wing contains a miniature logging camp and Minnesota farm, and the next has a collection of tools and transportation, including a working model train. The best wing, however, is dedicated to Paul Bunyan—the guy in red flannel, the one created by Laughead, the one whose mustache looks almost like a cat’s whiskers.

Paul’s Cabin/Red River Museum, 440 E. Broadway, Akeley, MN 56433

[phone] or [phone]

Hours: May-September, Tuesday-Saturday 10 A.M.–6 P.M., Sunday Noon–5 P.M.; other times by appointment

Cost: Adults $3, Kids $1

Directions: On Rte. 34 (Broadway), just west of the Rte. 64 turnoff to Bemidji.

Paul’s Cabin was not the first museum to open in this town. Another is located behind the town’s big Bunyan statue and is staffed by volunteers from the local historical society. The structure is dwarfed by a 28-foot fiberglass statue kneeling on the lawn out front. Crafted by Dean Krotzer in 1984, this Paul, if he were able to stand erect, would be 50 feet tall. The statue is by far Minnesota’s most photo-friendly Bunyan monument—mostly because he holds out an upturned palm for you to sit on. Your coworkers will no doubt show you a little more respect when you pass around vacation pics of you and your gigantic, ax-wielding friend.

Just behind the statue is Paul’s baby cradle, protected from the elements by a wooden canopy. Another colossal cradle is located on a lot across the street next to the Woodtick Musical Theatre. Still want more Bunyanalia? Drop by Akeley during the last weekend in June each year for Paul Bunyan Days.

Paul Bunyan Statue and Museum, Memorial Park, Broadway & Chicago Ave., Akeley, MN 56433

Contact: Paul Bunyan Historical Society, PO Box 131, Akeley, MN 46433 [phone]

Hours: Always visible; Museum May-September, Tuesday-Sunday 10 A.M.–5 P.M.

Cost: Free

www.akeleyminnesota.com

Directions: On Rte. 34 (Broadway), just west of the Rte. 64 turnoff to St. Cloud.

Alexandria

The Kensington Runestone

Do you think Columbus discovered the New World? Well, you’d better keep that ill-informed opinion to yourself if you plan to visit Alexandria, known in these parts as the Birthplace of America. One hundred and thirty years before that misguided Italian navigator stepped onto the beach at San Salvador and proclaimed he’d reached India, a group of Vikings had already penetrated the continent to present-day Minnesota and their eventual demise.

What proof is there of this early voyage? On November 8, 1898, farmer Olof Ohman dug up a 202-pound stone on his property north of Kensington. The flat graywacke slab was tangled in the roots of a 40-year-old aspen tree he was clearing for a new field. Ohman noticed it was covered with strange, chiseled markings so he brought it back to his farm.

Kensington Runestone Discovery Site, County Road 103, Kensington, MN 56343

No phone

Hours: Always visible

Cost: Free

Directions: North two miles from Kensington on Rte. 1, right on Rte. 103 (Runestone Lane), then north at the first left (still Rte. 103); one mile ahead.

ALEXANDRIA

Alexandria men with garlic, onions, or sardines on their breath may not, by law, have intercourse with their wives.

Columbus who?

Ohman planned to use the stone as a doorstop, but he also brought it to the attention of a local newspaper editor who sent a sketch of the markings to the University of Minnesota to be translated. The scratches turned out to be runes, and they translated roughly as:

8 Goths [Swedes] and 22 Norwegians on exploration journey from Vinland over the West. We had camp by 2 skerries [islands] one days journey north from this stone. We were and fished one day. After we came home found 10 men red with blood and dead. Ave Virgo Maria, save from evil…. Have 10 of our party by sea to look after our ships 14 days journey from this island. Year 1362.

The translator also suggested the rock resembled the type used as ballast in Viking ships. The stone was further studied at several universities around the Midwest.

Shortly after being proclaimed the biggest find since the Rosetta Stone, others denounced the Kensington Runestone as a clever but obvious fraud. Battle lines were drawn with Scandinavians on one side and non-Scandinavians on the other. (Some doubters claim the text was lifted from The Well-Informed Schoolmaster by Carl Rosland.) The debate got personal, by calling into question Ohman’s veracity. Angered, the old farmer retrieved his stone, brought it home, and used it as an anvil. One of Ohman’s sons eventually committed suicide after suffering years of ridicule, and Ohman’s daughter fled town. (About this same time, a neighboring farmer found another runestone but, seeing the grief it brought Ohman, reburied the tablet. It has yet to be rediscovered.)

That might have been the end of the story, but the Smithsonian became interested in settling the question in the late 1940s. They must have thought the runestone genuine, for it was put on display in Washington in 1948.

Piggybacking on the publicity, the Alexandria Kiwanis Club commissioned an oversized granite replica in 1951. You can still see the 25-foot stone in Runestone Park, one mile east of town on Route 27 (east of McKay Avenue). The replica was followed by a 28-foot, 4-ton Viking statue of Ole Oppe, better known as Big Ole. Both went to the 1964 New York World’s Fair. Big Ole was built by Gordon Schumaker and today stands in the middle of Broadway in Alexandria—in front of the museum at Third Street—you can’t miss him.

In the late 1960s, the Smithsonian issued its revised verdict: the Kensington Runestone was a fake. It was returned to Minnesota for the final time. When it arrived, locals became suspicious after discovering the Smithsonian had scrubbed the stone with a wire brush, thereby destroying any microevidence that could have dated it. Was it just a bonehead move, or was the nation’s most revered museum involved in a Columbus-centric cover-up? Something still smells fishy, for although the Smithsonian to this day cites experts in its literature denouncing the stone, it has yet to identify who those experts were.

You’re just going to have to make up your own mind. The Runestone Museum makes a compelling case, though it does not ignore conflicting claims. In that respect, it’s more fair than the Smithsonian.

Kensington Runestone Museum, 206 N. Broadway, Alexandria, MN 56308

[phone]

E-mail: [e-mail]

Hours: April-September, Monday-Friday 9 A.M.–5 P.M., Saturday 9 A.M.-4 P.M., Sunday 11 A.M.—4 P.M.; October-March, Monday-Friday 9 A.M.–5 P.M., Saturday 9 A.M.–3 P.M.

Cost: Adults $5, Seniors $4, Kids (7-17) $3

www.runestonemuseum.org

Resources: www.geocities.com/TheTropics/Island/3634/index2.html

www.geocities.com/Athens/Aegean/6726/kensington/kensington.htm

Directions: Exit 103 from I-94, go north on Rte. 29 (Broadway) until you see Big Ole at Second Ave.

THE NORWAY LAKE RUNESTONE?

Some Minnesotans believe another Viking runestone is located somewhere beneath the surface of Norway Lake near Sunburg. Witnesses have reported a large, carved rock on an island that appears at the center of Lower Norway Lake during droughts. Farmer Elmer Roen spotted the markings in 1938 and described the stone as at least 20 square feet and covered in runic letters. Divers have not been able to find the flat stone, though they’ve tried several times. To learn the latest details, contact the Viking Research Society of Minnesota (Route 1, PO Box 60, Chokio, MN 56221).

Ashby

World’s Largest Coot

It’s not hard to find a coot in these parts—just stop by any town café in the morning and there are usually a few at the counter talking about the weather and complaining about the good-for-nothin’ local kids.

But there’s another kind of coot: a mud hen. There are plenty of them around, too, when hunters aren’t thinning them out. To be a good coot hunter, you need to practice at places like the Ashby Trap Range. To be sure you know what you’re aiming for, the range has erected a 10-foot-tall coot beside the adjoining lake. It was built in 1991 by Steve Morgan for the Ashby Coot Feed.

Morgan chose concrete as his medium. In retrospect, it might have been a better idea to use fiberglass. The coot’s flapping wings weigh so much they have to be propped up by a bulky metal frame, making it look as if the bird is wearing a back brace—not so great for photos. Then again, had it been made from something less durable, it might be riddled with hunters’ buckshot. At least concrete deflects gunfire.

Coots Trap Range, Rte. 78, Ashby, MN 56309

No phone

Hours: Always visible

Cost: Free

Directions: Just northeast of the intersection of Rtes. 10 and 78, at Little Lake.

Battle Lake

Big Indian

As you might suspect, Battle Lake is named after a war fought near here. Chief Wenonga led his Ojibwe warriors to victory over the Dakota, but not by much. It was 1795, and Wenonga marched some 50 warriors into battle. Only a few Ojibwe survived, one