The Accident at Sanborn Corners.....And Other Minnesota Short Stories

By J. L. Larson

Minnesota is known for frigid weather, thousands of lakes, and Scandinavian humor. But in this anthology of ten short stories, J. L. Larson shows a different side of the state via unique tales of conflict, adventure, and intrigue that often transport characters outside it borders.

In July of 1970, at a benign looking intersection in the middle of Minnesota farmland, a fateful mishap occurs yet again! What is it about this seemingly nondescript junction that makes it such a repetitive and bloody deathtrap? Is it the terrain, the weather, the driversor a combination of these and maybe a few other factors? In another story, a paper company executive and his wife must cope with an empty nest and the loss of his job. Hes doing fine until he receives a strange, late-night call about his self-centered, malicious nemesis from the old job. In tale after tale, Larson showcases eclectic characters who embark on adventures that include a disaster on a popular lake, an emotional confrontation in a university classroom, the mysterious travel exploits experienced by a young man with his uncle, and the recurring, dramatic impact on a young teen as his life moves forward following a seemingly insignificant encounter.

The Accident at Sanborn Corners and Other Minnesota Short Stories is an entertaining compilation of situations and themes that illustrate how various characters cope with the unexpected in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475977769

J. L. Larson

J. L. Larson, a graduate of the University of Minnesota, worked in legal publishing and now is a private options trader. He is the author of the threepart Minnesota Lake Series novels, 'The Raid at Lake Minnewaska', 'The Disappearance of Henry Hanson', and 'The Choices of Adam Bailey'. He also authored a collection of Minnesota related short stories, 'The Accident at Sanborn Corners....And Other Minnesota Short Stories'. He and his wife currently reside at Lake Norman in North Carolina.

Book preview

The Accident

At Sanborn

Corners

. . . . And Other Minnesota

Short Stories

J. L. Larson

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Accident at Sanborn Corners… . And Other Minnesota Short Stories

Copyright © 2013 by J. L. Larson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-7775-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-7777-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-7776-9 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013903361

iUniverse rev. date: 06/07/2013

Contents

The Accident at Sanborn Corners

The Gas Lantern

Letting Him Go

What Becomes of a ‘Corporate Animal’

The Mismatched Foursome at Lake Lindsay

The Girl on the Hill

Uncle Joe’s Secret Life

The Encounter on the Lake

The Confrontation with Professor Grant

Sammy’s Golf Day in Hell

For your help and support:

MaryAnne, Charlotte, Megan, Tricia, Barb… and Matt

The Accident at Sanborn Corners

The fateful mishap occurred precisely at 11:00 P.M on a warm, humid Sunday night on July 12th, 1970. The location was at a benign looking intersection in the surrounding flat farmland of southwestern Minnesota. The news of the serious car accident was naturally sad, but to the locals in the area, not surprising. This had not been the first time such a horrible collision had occurred at that junction. Accidents from fender benders to more serious disasters had been if not common then certainly repetitive in the prior years and even decades before that night.

By anyone who lived in that part of the state, the setting was simply referred to as Sanborn Corners. It was a crossing of two major highways out on the relatively flat farmland so prevalent in that part of the state. Long-term residents maintained a sense of foreboding about that intersection given that corner’s deadly history. With so many mishaps and tragic accidents, horror stories of death and destruction kept that scene notorious.

To the common traveler coming upon that crossroads on a sunny, clear day for the first time, there would be little hint of anything ominous ahead. A driver would certainly not feel threatened. He’d more apt to be yawning as he passed through the junction with his eyes tiredly roving over the repetitive cornfields and farms. Prior to Sanborn Corners, the flashing lights would catch his attention no matter which direction he was approaching, but it would seem an excessive warning for just a forthcoming stoplight. Nonetheless, at least some uninformed drivers would become mindful that something wasn’t as innocent as it appeared if there was such a blatant cautionary light so far in advance of the intersection. Most drivers would slow down with that kind of warning.

However, as that driver came closer to the junction on that bright day, the dramatic warning still didn’t make sense. It seemed excessive given that on such a clear day he could readily see in all directions of any oncoming or perpendicular traffic. Sure there were some slightly rolling hills, some pesky farm buildings and those seemingly whimsical locations of groves of trees momentarily blocking his view, but otherwise it was just another place in America where two major highways happened to intersect.

What was typical of that unaware motorist would be that reducing his speed would only make him more intent in watching the upcoming stoplight. If it was green, he would hope it would remain that color long enough for him to slip through the intersection without too much loss of speed. Within five hundred feet of the junction and the traffic light was still green, his probable choice would be to maintain his speed and blow through the crossroads even if the light turned yellow. There would of course be no decision if the traffic light turned yellow prior to five hundred feet. Though disappointed, he would unconsciously accept defeat and decelerate until stopped.

Sitting there waiting to proceed on green, he’d observe the worn looking structures on each corner. He’d glance at his fuel gauge deciding whether to fill his tank at the gasoline station on the corner before continuing his journey. He’d glance at the small café with three cars parked outside. He’d see a sign that read, Get Gas Here not knowing if it referred to the gasoline station or the café. His mouth would salivate for a moment, but he’d look at his watch and shake his head. The small restaurant with the gravel parking lot didn’t look that inviting. He resolved that he wasn’t that hungry anyway.

If he truly was not from the area, the driver might pan the scene and unconsciously thank his lucky stars he didn’t have to live or work anywhere near such a remote and monotonous part of the country. Moving his head slowly from side to side to stretch his neck muscles, he’d anxiously begin moving slightly forward in anticipation of the light momentarily turning green. When the inevitable change to green finally occurred, he’d accelerate through the crossing slightly bothered by the delay and hardly glancing either way for any cross traffic. There’d be no reason. He could see forever left or right on such a clear, sunlit day. Within half a minute he’d have his car back to ten miles an hour over the speed limit. Sanborn Corners would be in his rear view mirror and his mind would abruptly lose any memory of the isolated intersection he’d just crossed.

On the other hand, if that same unaware driver made it through the junction on a green or yellow light, his speeding car would hardly have given him time to observe any of the few small businesses he’d just passed. Filling his tank or stopping by the café would not even have been considered. In fact, he’d hardly have time to spark that quick, sardonic thought regarding those luckless local people having to live or work in that area. He more likely would have sailed through the intersection with but a glance at his watch as he calculated the time and distance to his next destination.

In either case that uninformed driver on such a beautiful, sun-filled day would never know he’d just driven through a junction that had earned a long history as a nasty and bloody death trap. Even if he’d heard something about the tragic legacy of Sanborn Corners, he would find the story hard to believe if he even paid notice to the intersection while driving through it.

The real curiosity was how those drivers who lived in southwestern Minnesota and knew the bloody background of that intersection could become a statistic. Again, it was the bland landscape. After many, many trips through Sanborn Corners during good weather conditions, it could become quite easy for citizens of that part of the state to get lulled into believing the dangerous crossing no longer warranted its dreadful reputation.

Unfortunately, whether oblivious or familiar, either motorist could well become prime candidates for misadventures at Sanborn Corners when conditions were not so ideal. That first unacquainted driver would have no reason to think the evening haze or those snowflakes bouncing against his windshield could be intruding his vision that severely. Sure, the intermittent groves of trees as well as the upcoming farm and business buildings were there, but they didn’t seem to impede his ability to see other approaching traffic. In fact, seeing that green light ahead he might be confident enough to increase his speed so he wouldn’t be inconvenienced if the light suddenly changed to yellow.

As for the driver more familiar with the infamy of Sanborn Corners and facing poorer weather, he could still easily take his safety for granted. That evening’s haze or those similar bothersome snowflakes splattering against his windshield could well be dismissed as an unimportant nuisance. He might no longer even take real notice to those flashing lights warning of the upcoming stoplight.

It would be these types of drivers moving along in less than favorable weather conditions when Sanborn Corners and its menacing history might abruptly show its teeth… like a python lying patiently waiting for its next meal to scurry by unknowingly and inattentively within inches of the snake’s piercing bite. Certainly during serious inclement weather, any thoroughfare can be hazardous and drivers generally will drive with more caution. However, this particular intersection could never hold onto the cautious respect it deserved whether a driver knew of its dire background or not. It was just too isolated… too routine… and therefore too easy to forget past horrors that occurred on that crossing.

And, that was the rub. When the weather was good during the daytime hours, there were hardly any mishaps reported of any consequence. However, when meteorological conditions deteriorated at all, especially after the sun went down, this crossing could become deceptively dangerous. Unfortunately, even when the weather seemed favorable, there were still an astonishing number of horrific car accidents at Sanborn Corners.

With these known factors the question can logically be asked why more wasn’t done to limit so many ghastly and tragic accidents. After all, the tarnished reputation of this junction had history going back to the invention of the automobile. But, it wasn’t as if the state patrol and the state highway department were oblivious just because the intersection was located in such remote and unexciting farm country. Many attempts at reducing the carnage had been put in place over the years… too often as a result of yet another horrifying car accident. But, the controls were rudimentary… as if no one truly believed Sanborn Corners should be that problematic or lethal. It was most often considered that the last accident at that junction was a fluke and there would be little reason to believe something so unfortunate could happen again.

Geographically, it was just two federal highways meeting at a point in southwestern Minnesota twenty-one miles south of Redwood Falls, eight miles west of Springfield, seven miles east of Lamberton, and two miles north of the village of Sanborn. The north and south running highway was Federal Hwy. #71. It started at International Falls on the very northern tip of Minnesota and ended at New Orleans close to the coastline of the Gulf of Mexico. The east and west roadway was Federal Hwy. #14. This highway ran across the United States through Minnesota and South Dakota before disappearing into the western plains of Montana. Easterly, Hwy. #14 ran through Wisconsin and disappeared into other Federal highway systems once it reached Chicago, Illinois. Both major highways just happened to cross on that seemingly innocent, non-descript tract of land in the middle of the gently sloping Minnesota farmland.

So why did Sanborn Corners continue to have so many cursed stories added to its lore? When conversations broke out about the dangers of Sanborn Corners… which was often in that part of the state… most agreed the remote countryside lulled most drivers into thinking they were safe going at high speed on either of the highways. The terrain was also falsely reassuring. Traveling day or night, the driver would feel he could see for miles in any direction. And, while there were patrol cars, drivers had some confidence they could spot a highway patrol soon enough to slow in plenty of time to prevent a speeding ticket. These factors could easily seduce most drivers into thinking they could travel fast and with impunity.

Exploring the background of Sanborn Corners, it was interesting how the very development of automobile transportation interrelated so consistently with the record of injury and death at Sanborn Corners. Going back to the decades of the 1910’s and 1920’s, speeding cars on the country roads raced virtually unchecked. During this time span automobile engines improved and were built with faster capabilities. Ghastly accidents were of course not limited to Sanborn Corners during that era. People learned rather quickly as they witnessed or read of daily death reports. Horrific damage could be the result of two or more speeding cars smashing into one another at a high rate of speed… and that destruction would be not limited to the machines but to the drivers and passengers as well.

With the continuing advent of automobile travel during those two decades, even the slower life of the rural folks would find the slaughter at a place like Sanborn Corners especially shocking… like a first time soldier seeing injury and death in his initial action in war. They weren’t used to seeing life snuffed out by an invention that didn’t exist the previous generation. But like today, that gruesome picture of destruction and mutilation would gradually fade as motorists moved on down the road away from the scene of death.

In the early days at Sanborn Corners before the two highways were paved, there were no stop signs at that intersection. As the numbers of Model T Fords increased, the lack of a stop sign at that crossing began to take its toll with an increasing number of traffic mishaps. It was decided in the early 1920’s that a stop sign should finally be placed on at least one of the highways. Hwy. #14 was chosen to be the roadway required to stop. Cars on Hwy. #71 were not obliged to stop. To show their disdain, too often travelers on Hwy. #14 simply ignored their stop sign.

More deaths had to occur before stop signs were placed on all four corners. Of course, there was still the problem of drivers, including local folk, taking the signs seriously. The remoteness still begged the question of the need. The accidents continued in surprising numbers despite these warning signs.

As the 1920’s grew to a close, most people living in that region took more heed as they approached Sanborn Corners… and soberly if that was possible. Younger drivers, however, displayed little restraint. They often barreled through the intersection oblivious to potential death or injury Out-of-state drivers not familiar with the dangerous idiosyncrasies of this junction might slow slightly but generally sailed through the intersection. To them the four-way stop on such a flat, out-of-the-way intersection was ridiculous… at least those were the words communicated by the survivors of various accidents at that junction.

As time rolled on, there were more meetings and discussions about the continuing and increasing numbers of staggering accidents at Sanborn Corners. It was often discussed through the 1930’s, 40’s and 50’s that automobiles were not mechanically ready to handle the high speed so many motorists were expecting of their cars. Braking systems were not sophisticated enough to halt a speeding car as promptly as a wayward driver would depend or expect. Seat belts were considered an inconvenience if they were even available. Windshields shattered more easily. Some vehicles were open air. On impact many victims had their final seconds of life be an airborne experience. Some continued their flight as angels… some did not!

After World War II, more and more studies were carried out nationally to further evaluate the causes of severe accidents and the particular brutality of collisions at such places as Sanborn Corners. Besides driving too fast, there were factors that were only beginning to become understood and respected. Inexperience at the wheel… fatigue while driving… the impact of alcohol when driving a vehicle… and even road rage… all were becoming more acknowledged as problems. Still, these issues didn’t carry the importance for too many years until more emphasis was placed on these factors in public safety messages and driver’s education.

Unfortunately what militated against these obvious reasons for car tragedies was how speed and drink were so much a part of American culture. It was manly to own a fast machine… in fact, the faster the better. As for alcohol, with generations of Americans convinced that booze was absolutely necessary to encourage a good time, drunk driving was just an accepted risk. In the decades immediately after World War II a fatal mixture of speed and alcohol just never reached a point in society as important enough to limit. In fact, drinking and driving was usually more the subject of humor dating back to the first time a drunk got behind the wheel of a Model T. Driving while intoxicated might have been frowned upon, but it was accepted as a part of everyday life.

For too long the many accidents at Sanborn Corners did not incur the disgust and maddening anguish towards alcohol and excessive speed that would be more clearly heard by the public years later. Then it was just an attitude of poor fortune for the drivers and vehicles involved. The belief was that as long as the driver was conscious he should be able to control his driving enough to prevent an accident. If that same driver became unconscious from drink while driving, apparently that peril was not discussed earnestly.

When falling asleep at the wheel did become a more serious topic, whether induced by alcohol or exhaustion, Sanborn Corners often was used as a perplexing example. The early state highway department continuously expressed frustration over this fatigue issue. Studies were initiated to examine why this intersection could be so sinister. It was found with the roadways from all four sides being as straight as an arrow, the result could literally be hypnotic, especially at night. Highways on this type of landscape not only invited speed, speed, and more speed, but could as well become mesmerizing. The rhythmic sound of the car engine, the spellbinding stare against the setting sun, the melodic droplets of rain or snow against a windshield, or the mellow, sleep-inducing sounds of popular late night music on radio shows like Hobb’s House broadcast across the state on WCCO-AM were all brought to the public’s attention and awareness.

In the 1950’s, larger stop signs with the red background were placed at all four stopping points at the devilish corner. People were ticketed more determinedly for going through stop signs. Of course patrolmen had to be there and see the infraction in order to ticket it. Nonetheless, this crack down on rural highway safety regarding stop signs as well as the more dramatic signage were given credit for holding down speedy collisions.

Unfortunately, nighttime accidents did not decrease. Improved car engines and braking systems apparently gave drivers a false sense of security. The number of nighttime accidents… and deaths… at Sanborn Corners were as numerous as in previous years. Something more had to be done, especially after a particularly horrible wintertime accident ended in seven deaths. The gruesome collision wiped out an entire five-member family in one car and killed two of six in the other. Icy conditions were initially blamed, but the smell of alcohol was prominent even with the gasoline and oil spread out all over the snowy pavement. Both families were returning home from Christmas celebrations at relatives’ homes.

In response, the state highway department decided that Sanborn Corners warranted the need for warning lights. A four-way blinking red light system was installed on each stop sign. These blinking red lights on all four corners did have some impact on the number of accidents and deaths at Sanborn Corners… finally! But, when shocking accidents still occurred, there was call for more precautions. Survivors often mumbled at the scene as they were being taken to the hospital in ambulances that they didn’t see the oncoming car or truck. They thought the vehicle from the perpendicular highway was going to stop so they could then proceed through the intersection. When both drivers thought that way, tragedy was the result. In too many cases it was a matter of travelers simply not knowing or adhering to the rules of the road.

After yet another devastating two-car pileup on a New Year’s Eve night in the early 1960’s, it was decided to put in a full four-way stop light. There would then be no question when one car had the right to proceed and the other had the responsibility of stopping. Everyone from the highway safety department down to the local area folks believed that the stop light would be the antidote for the high number of deaths at their infamous intersection.

That four-way stoplight, though difficult to prove, was given credit for saving countless lives. The only time there were some bad accidents was too often when young folks were trying to beat the yellow light while the crossroad hosted a driver who was anticipating the light turning green while driving too fast. Beating the stoplight and ‘booze’ continued to be the primary reasons for loss of life whenever the ghost of Sanborn Corners reared its ugly head.

By the middle 1960’s an even more dramatic move was made to thwart further deaths at the notorious corner. Large blinking red lights were placed a half-mile before the intersection on each highway running toward Sanborn Corners as a further pre-warning of the upcoming stoplights. It was still not a fool proof method of holding down collisions, but short of having four patrolman standing out on the highways a half mile from the crossing of Hwy #71 and Hwy #14, the vivid red blinking light seemed close to the next best thing.

The result was good. For a couple years there were no deaths at that historically bloody junction. However, that record didn’t last. When another fatal accident happened once again, alcohol and high speed were again judged the primary culprits. Not much a blinking warning light could do about a boozed up driver resulting in his being too unconscious to take heed.

To the end of the 1960’s, there were continued efforts to discover any other reasons why Sanborn Corners was still recording an inordinate number of car mishaps even if they were relatively minor. Investigators began adding some other more subtle findings in their reports on the dangers of Sanborn Corners. There was repeated comment about how the perceived flat geography was deviously deceptive. There were actually some rolling hills that could momentarily block a driver from seeing oncoming perpendicular traffic. This factor along with some light ground fog or the height of the corn crop in the summer or fall was thought to be additional insidious issues.

Coupled with the geography, there was also mention of the possible effect of the small business buildings on all four sides of the intersection. There were two gasoline stations, a feed and grain mill and a café on the respective corners. The reference to these structures was usually in combination with the seemingly insignificant groves of trees and some farm buildings as automobiles approached the junction. There was concern that under the right circumstances… patchy ground fog or even minor rainy conditions… a driver’s view might be obstructed just long enough not to see a vehicle moving crossways as that driver was making his decision to rush through the intersection as the stoplight happened to turn yellow.

These more subtle and understated factors would also be noted by any person who ever worked at one of those Sanborn Corners small businesses. Driving each day to that intersection, how could a worker not contemplate what the circumstances had to have been in the seconds before an accident that had occurred the previous day or night? He would already have heard the details about the probable cause or causes… . maybe the slippery roads, possibly the smell of booze had permeated the crash scene… or less evil, perhaps the state patrol report might suggested a brake malfunction on one of the vehicles. Whatever the investigation found, would it not be probable that each worker would approach the ‘corner’ with even more scrutiny that following day trying to imagine any other possible factors for the collision. Since they’d driven to work in all types of weather, would they not consider the conditions of the previous night? Might they take some renewed notice of a grove of trees or of one of the structures at the intersection in combination with some hazy ground fog that might have blocked a driver’s vision?

And, there was always the human error factor. If there was no hint of alcohol found in the victims or in the damaged vehicles, the very next consideration had to be the decision-making of both drivers. Humans make their own judgment whether to abide by speed limit signs or warning lights, or even to heed precarious conditions on the road. For too many accidents at Sanborn Corners, the highway patrol could only attach the blame to the frailties and bad judgment of those who were in the driver’s seat.

That would lead full circle to the repeated question of what might have contributed to the bad judgment even if no alcohol was present. Was it lack of driving experience… ill-health interrupting focus… maybe poor night vision… falling asleep at the wheel… or a momentary lapse in concentration? The human factor was always the great mystery of Sanborn Corners. State patrolmen or ambulance personnel on the scene would often just shake their heads mystified as to why sober and usually attentive victims could not have been more careful.

* * *

It was the locals in Sanborn, the community just two miles southeast of the deathly corner who were the primary followers of the fatal lore. The history of fatalities read like a sad tale of a long ago plague still infecting people in current days. And when they would hear that too familiar sound of screeching brakes, the reverberation would resonate over the generally flat terrain toward the village. The strident noise would be particularly clear in the evenings when life was quieter. Then, whether young or old, while sitting on their porches during the warmer weather or huddled up in their cozy homes in the dead of winter, they would momentarily stop any action and hold their breathes hoping and praying not to hear the possible accompanying next disastrous sound. If there was only silence following the squealing brakes, there was relief. They knew the individuals driving those cars had stopped in time and would live to see another day. There would be no other audible sound as one car would quietly yield to the other and the vehicles would continue their journeys, the drivers applying a cold look at one another as they passed by the other at the intersection. Neighbors and families would continue their movements thankful that a potential horror had been averted. A momentary flash of an unpleasant memory of a previous crash at the corner might materialize. With no ugly subsequent sound that recollection mercifully would disappear in seconds.

Then there were the other times… the times that seemed too frequent… the terrible screeching sound surrendering to the most horrifying din of metal against metal. This momentary and sickening thud and the clamorous sound of broken glass would be like a small explosion. Local residents hearing this boom echoing across the farmland would bring back intense memories of previous accidents. They would visualize the horrible impact and wince imagining what that metal and glass had just done to human flesh.

The first thought was to call the local police or fire department. People would wonder if anyone else heard the sickening noise. The concern didn’t need to be voiced. Even with the TV or radio on, that disaster could be heard by anyone in Sanborn with average hearing. In less than a minute the fastest caller to the police or fire department would have kick started the emergency process. Sirens would begin blaring and those crisis vehicles could be heard racing to the scene.

Most locals within ear shot would then gradually return to what they had been doing, but this time those memories of previous accidents would not go away. They would wonder how this mishap would compare to the many other accidents occurring at Sanborn Corners. They would think how precious life was and how it could be smothered out so abruptly with just a momentary lapse in judgment, concentration or bad luck. Depending on the hour, some would venture out onto their lawns and talk with neighbors as a way of purging their past nightmares of previous crashes. Some would talk about how long it had been since the previous accident. Others would recall and then describe the worst scene they’d ever witnessed at Sanborn Corners.

For these people it had taken just one horrible accident occurring at that junction for them to understand how violent a crash could be and how nauseating was the sight of the aftermath. Most everyone in Sanborn had witnessed the covered dead body after it had been thrown from one of the torn apart vehicles. In fact, too many locals had seen much worse than just a dead body. For certain there was little desire to see anything so ghastly again.

Still, there were some whose curiosity would not let them sleep. Depending on the hour of the day or night, an inquisitive Sanborn townsperson or area farmer might get into his car minutes after the disgusting sound of the accident and drive swiftly over to the intersection to get a better look at the deadly result… his justification being that he was there if needed, as if he had any actual medical background that could be called upon.

If the restaurant at that notorious junction was opened, the local person would try to appear casual just stopping coincidentally to get something to eat. Once inside the café, he could observe the mayhem as he sat there in the comfort of a booth while dipping a donut in a cup of coffee. That local could later claim he just happened upon the scene. As a witness to the post-accident trauma, he could enjoy a morbid sense of celebrity for the next few days as friends and neighbors might want to satisfy their dark desires for more detail.

But, mostly he was there to observe the devastation of the vehicles, to take note of the skid marks on the pavement, to smell the spilling gasoline or the tell-tale odor of booze, to spot the possible sight of blood, and finally to watch the police and medical people carry out their jobs. And, certainly he wanted to see the victims… the dead covered by sheets, the seriously injured lying unconscious or in misery on a stretcher, or survivors with minor injuries sitting in shock on the pavement or in a squad car while holding a wet cloth over a head wound while being questioned by a patrolman or an emergency medical worker.

For this local, the sight of human carnage and disaster would be both appalling and intoxicating. This onlooker would feel a sense of good fortune… even elation… that he was not the casualty laid out on the ground covered by that sheet. Or, watching the unconscious victim being pushed on the gurney over to the ambulance, he might enjoy a feeling of liberation and appreciation that he wouldn’t have to spend the night fighting for his life in some emergency ward. He could simply drive slowly back to his home and sleep the night away in his own bed. The next morning he could arise… in one piece… fill his lungs with fresh air, and be thankful to be alive. Whatever afflictions or pains he’d been suffering prior to the previous night would not hurt as much. Problems wouldn’t be as serious. He was indeed in a better place than any of those people… dead or alive… who were involved in the previous night’s accident.

As macabre as that man’s thoughts might be, his reasons for wanting to see the outcome of another Sanborn Corners tragedy would be an answer to one very personal and secret desire. He was having his chance to feel elevated… to be able to cast his eyes down upon all the misery and misfortune of the previous night’s disaster. He could feel contented that his life was better or even preferred over the lives of those victims… if for only a few hours or days.

* * *

Earlier that Sunday a widespread thunderstorm had moved slowly and widely across that section of the state. There had been some damaging winds, but mostly it was the splendorous lightning and booming thunder that had people watching the panorama from the safety of their homes. The massive cloud system moving from South Dakota eastward had stretched from Windom up to Willmar. The general populace in that Minnesota farm belt… and not just the farmers… were quite happy with the one to three inches of precipitation, especially with no hail damage. There was only heavy rain. Anyone depending on a successful crop couldn’t help but be pleased including the many small town businesses hinging on the farming trade. Only the kids in the various farm communities were discontent. Their late afternoon and evening time for play had been interrupted.

That summer the corn crop was progressing nicely. Knee high by the fourth of July had been a bromide of the past agricultural generation. With faster growing seed and improved farming technology by 1970, corn stalks were chest high in that part of Minnesota and even higher in many farms just south of Redwood Falls down to Sanborn along Hwy. #71. But, no matter how good the seed or the farming practices, water was necessary. It was always a concern having the right amount. Too much of a good thing could at times be destructive. That year the mix of rain and sunshine had been about right. Silent prayers were being answered. However, there were the beginnings of some furrowed brows up through that Sunday evening. The previous seven days there had been little measurable precipitation. That worry became moot for the time being with that evening’s soaking rain… at least until the next perceived threat of a drought.

By 10:00 the system had blown through southwestern Minnesota. What followed was slightly cooler weather dropping the temperature from a high of eighty-two degrees earlier in the afternoon down to fifty-eight degrees as the lights went out in towns and farms for the evening. That decrease in temperature made the night quite comfortable although it did create enough condensation that produced some intermittent ground fog in the slightly lower areas of the rolling farmland. This periodic haze didn’t appear hazardous since above the mistiness was the most vivid clear sky that followed the huge storm. With the decreasing ground light, the bright stars brought a mystic radiance to the surrounding countryside. The atmosphere around Sanborn Corners had such a mellow hue that any thoughts of an impending automobile tragedy would not be on anyone’s mind. Truly, there would be so many other more dangerous days or nights for that type of misfortune to be more possible, particularly in the winter months with icy roads, pea-soup fog, or hard rain or snow storms.

So, on a seemingly gentle July night, caution might not be the first thing on a driver’s mind. The sloping earth, the taller, silent ubiquitous corn stalks, the sporadic groves of trees, the periodic light reflections from the moon against that insidious ground vapor… all of this would give little hint that an accident of any magnitude could possibly happen on that particular evening.

Regarding Sanborn Corners, however, the conditions were ripening for peril. All it took was a few more coincidences of speeding, drunk driving, or poor judgment and the circumstances would become more and more ideal for a potential car accident. Then it would be only the luck of the draw whether the possible misadventure at the notorious intersection would be a minor mishap with few injuries… or a major scene of death and calamity.

* * *

As for the focus of this story… that 1970 car accident… veterans of the Sanborn Corners lore would always find it difficult to believe a collision of such proportions could have occurred. To the locals it would be remembered as a relatively clear night with only intermittent ground fog. Conditions were considered better than average. Furthermore, at that late hour on a Sunday night, car traffic was sporadic. Most Sunday nights people were home relaxing or at that hour already sleeping in order to get their rest for the coming week. In addition, all four blinking red lights a half-mile before the intersection from all directions were in full working order. What were the chances that a collision could occur when the setting seemed so benign?

While investigators generally ignored or downplayed the possible contribution of some ground fog, upon hearing of the tragedy, the locals realized they must have misjudged the conditions. With the humid conditions and the drop in temperature, those ingredients always made the approach to Sanborn Corners more hazardous than what anyone wanted to believe. Still, the sporadic ground fog just didn’t measure up to the more dangerous night time circumstances at other times in the year.

The highway patrol commented again and again how there were hardly any discernible skid marks leading up to the moment the cars collided. Normally there would be tire tracks before the point of contact as the vehicles tried to avert the inevitable. With no skid marks, Sanborn residents and area farm families then understood why this horrific collision had caused such a pronounced reverberation. There was no screeching of brakes… only an explosion that lasted only seconds. That brief cringing noise woke up everyone for miles around except the hard of hearing. The lack of blackened pavement and the tumultuous sound indicated the obvious. The vehicles never slowed right up to the exact time of contact.

Alcohol consumption was certainly checked out. The strange thing was that no patrolman could detect the distinct scent of beer or hard alcohol in what was left of each vehicle. Of course the strong stench of oil and gasoline on the pavement could have masked the smell. Yet, experienced investigators knew the other tell-tale signs of alcohol usage by the drivers whether the odor could be detected or not. Remnants of broken bottles, aluminum cans, or pieces of cocktail glasses might be found. At that accident scene, no material evidence of that type was located.

It was the final report of this highway disaster, however, that made this scene definitely rare… and frankly quite upsetting. It was one thing to have such a major mishap on such a relatively moderate evening with little car traffic on the road. It was another thing that the victims were natives of southwestern Minnesota. They surely had to be aware of the tattered reputation of Sanborn Corners, especially if they were dealing with ground fog thicker than expected.

But, there was one other factor that made this crash scene more distinctive than any previous accident in that junction’s history. In this one-of-a-kind catastrophe there were not just two cars involved. Unfortunately it was not even limited to three vehicles lying in waste on the slick pavement or in the ditch. The real shock was that four vehicles met simultaneously at that intersection… all traveling at apparently mind-boggling speeds. One of the cars had a brief chance to avert the disaster by stomping on the brakes, but it had been to no avail. The skid marks were but ten feet long. That car disintegrated into a cloud of flames, dust, and twisted metal along with the other three vehicles.

The report would further state that there were only four people involved… each one obviously a driver. Two of them were dead at the scene and two of the victims had survived at least to the point that they were taken by ambulance directly to the Redwood Falls Community Hospital. Both were unconscious and in serious condition when they departed the accident sight. One of the people died en route to Redwood Falls. The other person’s life was hanging by a thread upon arrival at the emergency ward. Thankfully there were no passengers found. Only the drivers were paying for their actions.

Investigators, emergency and medical workers… and on-lookers… were certainly hoping both survivors would live, so at least a description of the night could be heard that had led to such an unbelievably coincidental and alarming multi-car crash. When word came of the third driver’s death… and that the final survivor was in a coma… hopes for any details were vastly reduced. It looked very likely this particular vehicular disaster was going to be filed as ‘unexplained’ in the lore of Sanborn Corners.

In the next twenty-four hours the accident scene would be cleaned up. One of the four damaged vehicles was placed in the front parking lot at one of the gas stations at Sanborn Corners. It was to act as a public service announcement for highway safety. This particular car was the only one of the four that had enough remaining ‘body’ to be discerned as an automobile. That vehicle became a local attraction. People from miles around stopped at that service station to quietly marvel over the devastating impact of the four-car pile-up.

Regarding the investigators, they had consumed pot after pot of the restaurant’s coffee as they collated their findings. They eventually agreed the accident had been caused by ‘reckless driving’ and ‘negligence’ on all four drivers’ parts. Whether not concentrating, or falling asleep at the wheel, or being unfamiliar with the dangers of the obscure corner, or taking their eyes off the road for an instant, or even one or more of the drivers simply having a death wish given the speed they were traveling, the resolution of this accident would always remain nebulous.

There was another factor that didn’t come out in the final accident report. It was personal information about each victim collected over the weeks after the crash. The findings were supposed to be confidential. Too often, in situations like this one where there was so much general interest, privacy was disregarded. Investigators would interview the saddened family members who had fortunately not been passengers that night. Those interviewers upon sharing the notes of their conversations found certain oddities about each of the drivers… enough that the factor of ‘state of mind’ had to be considered as a very real contribution to the fiery catastrophe. These peculiarities suggested that each of the four had some behavioral issues that could have made each one, at times, careless or reckless. While these findings were very much after the fact, they were significant enough to be later added to the final report of the accident.

As for the victims, their experience in the mishap was short and instantaneous. One had flown through the windshield as if shot from a gun and landed in a ditch in front of the restaurant. He’d been impaled by one of the legs of a handmade sign inviting potential patrons to ‘Get Gas… .’ The third word was indistinguishable covered in blood. That driver died on the way to the hospital. Two others had to be cut from the cars they were driving. Separating flesh, clothing, and metal was not a pleasant task. The lone other survivor was found groaning close to the center of the intersection having been apparently thrown straight up when the four cars met. Whether that driver flew through the windshield or out one side of the car was never fully discerned. Two of the patrolmen who served in World War II said the entire sight reminded them more of a bomb scene.

The identities of the injured were not immediately disclosed to the newspapers because verification was so difficult. As mentioned, the bodies were… in bad shape. Purses or wallets had been burned, destroyed or not found at the crash site until well into Monday. When a piece of wallet was found with a half-burned Social Security card, it was not much help. It was the same for the two personal licenses finally found in the mess. Again, both items were so damaged no letters of the victim’s name or address could be distinguished. The only helpful identification found were the car license plates which didn’t necessarily identify the driver.

News of the horrible accident… even one so late at night… flowed county by county like a tidal wave. By Monday morning most cafes in any sized community in that part of the state had heard about yet another score by that treacherous intersection. WCCO-AM radio in Minneapolis-St. Paul with listenership throughout most of Minnesota reported the news of the accident sparingly because of the lack of details.

Hearing that there was but one survivor, calls came into residents of Sanborn, Springfield, Tracy, and Redwood Falls from friends or relatives who hoped to get the latest news. They would only learn that the person was in critical condition and in a coma at Redwood Falls Community Hospital. Gradually identities were being found but held until there was certainty or until family members could be found. Newspaper reporters in towns around the area and used to finding local information, telephoned the Redwood County morgue hoping to find out the identities of the deceased. By orders of the state patrol, the morgue maintained a ‘no comment’ response until the next of kin were notified.

As Monday morning continued and it became more known that all four cars had met simultaneously at high speeds at the crash site, the interest amongst citizens smoldered. The grisly question persisted that by what gruesome stroke from the Almighty had brought each of these people to Sanborn Corners precisely at the same time Sunday night. There was further amazement when word spread that apparently booze was not the key culprit in the horrible accident. Locals scoffed at that bit of news. Alcohol had seemingly always been part of car disasters over the years at the Hwy. #14 and #71 intersection. Townspeople in the area responded cynically that the investigators must have been drinking themselves not to have found traces of booze.

But, the more serious-minded people in the towns around that part of the state repeatedly asked the obvious question. ‘What could cause four people to be so preoccupied that they paid little heed to warning signs, their speed, or even the reputation of the dangerous upcoming intersection?’ Car license plates indicated the drivers were all from that part of the state. Surely they’d heard or read stories of the lethal history of this crossroad. What possibly could cause these four people to be so careless and unmindful?

As those hours continued Monday morning, information about the victims was gradually being released, but not yet the key information naming the one driver still alive. People gathering at their small town cafes for breakfast and early lunch heard the names of the four people involved. It was found that the victims indeed were residents of the general area of southwestern Minnesota, but they were not well known. In fact, as that day progressed, what locals did hear about the four drivers was not very complimentary.

Area telephone lines flowed with gossip about each of the victims. As people ingested the various rumors while sipping coffee in their neighbor’s home or having a soft drink at the local café, a ghoulish reaction began to develop. Views began to be voiced about whom among the four victims most deserved to be that one survivor. It was pointless conversation and rather macabre, but those discussions grew more fervent and widespread as the delay continued regarding that unknown person still clinging to life in the hospital. Who deserved to live developed into a sad but growing bi-product story beyond the unbelievable coincidence of four cars piling into one another at such a high rate of speed.

Despite still being in a coma, the survivor’s name was finally announced publicly Tuesday morning. There were too many expressions of displeasure all around southwestern Minnesota that the wrong person was given the chance to live… as if their opinion on such a morbid subject actually mattered.

* * *

So, who was the survivor? Which one person involved in that horrible accident was causing so much curiosity. Though hanging onto life by a thread, why did this one survivor compel so many relatively sane people to make judgments why one driver might deserve a better fate than the other three? This grisly question now becomes the real subject in the remainder of this story.

Envision living in that area and Monday morning being caught up in the shear sorrow, shock and horror of yet another horrendous accident at Sanborn Corners. You’ve maybe witnessed some of the aftermath of one of the previous accidents… or, maybe your mind is recollecting vivid stories you’ve only heard regarding so many awful and too numerous collisions where lives were lost. Right away you’d be sickened by the tragedy… and disgusted that such reckless driving would again be repeated at that God forsaken intersection culminating with more deaths.

Now picture your thoughts being fueled even more by mental images of any car accident injury or death scene you may have witnessed. Then consider your curiosity and concern being heightened as the names of the victims were delayed… and then finally announced later Monday morning. A few hours later you hear that one of those four poor souls is still alive and clinging to life at the municipal hospital… but his or her name is not being announced until next of kin can be reached.

Then, as time passes on that Monday, you hear some details about each of the crash victims… basic background information mixed with some very negative rumor and innuendo. You listen to these adverse overtones. You may even believe some of them credible. After all, what could be positive about any person literally flying down a major highway at such a high rate of speed with little or no care for others as they approached the ill-famed Sanborn Corners?

Unfortunately, with the spread of this very negative gossip, could it be only natural to be slightly swayed by this disrespectful scuttlebutt. If might be difficult not to make some conclusions about those victims yourself? Then in the course of those hours on Monday, you might hear some of your neighbors or friends make some surprisingly blatant comments as to which of the victims deserved to be that one survivor… as if the quality of these victims’ lives… or lack thereof… had anything do to with their chance for survival.

Now let’s say you were among those seemingly few citizens who were sickened by all these unsubstantiated and rumor-filled evaluations. You might walk away from such dribble… . maybe even pointing out to some that loose opinions on such a morbid topic was just a waste of time and didn’t matter anyway. Maybe you would even voice your disgust and suggest to your opinionated friends or relatives that they should be praying for all the victims and their loved ones instead of casting stones. In your more civil way of thinking, you would only want to eventually hear who the survivor was, be relieved for his or her family members, and feel great sympathy for the other three victims’ kinfolk.

Except now, let’s add a different and certainly unique dynamic to this story. Let’s say you successfully discarded the gossip and rumor about these victims that Monday… at least for the most part. Let’s pretend instead you were privy to each driver’s state of mind and the circumstances in their lives as they carelessly sped toward their fates that Sunday night. Then the question might become… with this more valid and firsthand information… might you be tempted to make a judgment… even in the silence of your thoughts… to possibly lean in favor of one of the four to be that survivor… to be that one person more deserving to get a second chance at life.

This opportunity now presents itself. In the following vignettes, you will be made cognizant of each victim’s thoughts and lives prior to their disastrous meeting that Sunday night at Sanborn Corners. Then… if you are so inclined… contemplate with your inner self whether one of the drivers might deserve your favor. Your preference will always be kept secret in the file of your own mind. Whether you reveal your morbid partiality to anyone but yourself will of course be your choice.

* * *

Carol Brown

Pipestone, Minnesota

Carol Brown, Pipestone, Minnesota, perceived as a successful business woman… traveling east on Hwy. #14 from Lamberton one mile west of Sanborn Corners—approximately 10:59 PM, Sunday, July 12th, 1970. Visiting her mother that evening at a senior living center in Springfield, she’d already gone through Sanborn Corners a few minutes earlier on her way back to her home in Pipestone but had to turn back to retrieve something she’d forgotten in her mother’s suite at the facility. She was furious having to retrace the nine miles back to Springfield.

Carol Brown was by most people’s definition a woman who should have been happy and comfortable. As a professional business woman, she had the opportunity to set a fine example of how a female could effectively balance marriage, career, and motherhood. Originally from Little Falls, Minnesota, at forty-four years of age she had been one of the first women to reach the level of a bank vice president in the First National Bank System, a strong banking group based in the Twin Cities. During her career that spanned over twenty years, she had devoured every task, program and challenge thrown in front of her. At thirty-five she had completed her undergraduate program in Finance at Mankato State University. It took her six years to complete because of her full business and family schedule. Her life was busy beyond anyone’s definition of the word. Most people had a distant respect for her, but no one expressed interest in ever changing places with her.

She had three children who understandably saw her only as their mother. Her work was not particularly important to them given their needs as budding teen-agers. They had grown to expect she’d be there for them when needed. That understanding had become less prevalent as she got more involved in her career. The kids tended to seek out their father rather than their mother with answers to problems or needs.

As for Carol, she continued to perceive herself as the perfect parent even if that perception had become more exaggeration than truth. The kids had long since learned that her delusion was not their illusion. They knew that getting their mother involved in their lives would only make her irritable. She simply didn’t have the patience to help them. She always had other things on her mind.

The art of parenting can be different things to different people. Some parents are effective with seemingly little outward effort. Others fight the responsibility like God himself is punishing them. In Carol Brown’s case, her perspective leaned heavily toward the latter group. While gaining little joy in raising her kids, she still wanted to be observed and recognized as an effective, conscientious mother outside her home. Her ideal was to have her kids be an extension of the bank employees who reported to her. At work she didn’t have to listen to her staff problems unless those difficulties reflected on her work or the effectiveness of the bank. She wanted the same in her family life. Her problem of course was that her kids couldn’t be demoted or fired.

Carol typically worked twelve hour days… and most of the day on Saturday. With that schedule it didn’t take long for her to become that ship passing in the night as her family became less and less important to her. Her rationalization was that her parenting obligation would soon be over anyway once her kids went onto college. After all, the oldest was going to college that fall and the youngest was already thirteen years old!

She did show up to some of her kid’s activities, but always with paperwork in her lap and her eyes incessantly looking at her watch. Leaving before the completion of the activity was her habit.

Unfortunately, another habit she became well known for was her unremitting grumblings about her family. No one could understand why she complained about her kids’ behaviors or her husband’s shortfalls. Every family had challenges. Why did Carol Brown make it sound as if her family had the most problems? People began to jokingly comment that she was holding a grudge against her kids for the pain she went through in giving birth to them.

Her husband was not spared from her wrath. Again the joke was that her husband, Gerald, had never been forgiven for being the original cause of those same painful births.

Her dissatisfaction with him made everyone uncomfortable. People wondered how long Gerald… a generally likeable man in the community… could put up with such treatment. It was he who coped with most of the everyday parental duties, i.e. driving the kids to friend’s homes, the doctor’s office, to school, events, and the like. Carol was always too busy. When Gerald did perform these parental obligations, he faced hell if anything went wrong. The fact that one of their children was diagnosed with any illness or even required a small cavity to be filled… to Carol somehow it was his failure as a parent.

Her dissatisfaction with Gerald was so apparent to family and close neighbors that there was talk how long the marriage could last… especially from Gerald’s point of view. While he was always the model of patience with Carol and his kids, the verbal and subtle abuse from his wife was unending. No one could remember her ever saying anything nice about her husband in public. The only saving grace seemed to be that the two of them weren’t seen often together.

Over time, her husband found other outlets to his less than sterling marital life. He stayed close to his kids through coaching in their sports, cooking their meals, and generally being there for the little things. His wife took little notice. Neighbors and friends of the Browns were impressed how stable and polite the Brown’s kids were. Not surprisingly Gerald got the bulk of the credit.

If ever there was a reason for a male to stray from his mate this was the marriage. But, surprisingly, Gerald had made his personal decision to keep the marriage alive for the sake of family unity. He even commented a few times with folks in his town how he was used to dealing with difficult issues in his business. As he said, he was not the type of person to walk away from a problem.

In his own right he was reasonably successful as a local insurance agent for State Farm Insurance. It seemed as if everyone in town had Gerald handling their insurance needs. He was involved in his church, in a number of civic organizations, and was Vice President of the local Rotary Club. In his spare time he always seemed to be driving one of his kids someplace with a bunch of other young folks. His van