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Memories of Growing Up in the

Spring Valley Area


Please consider sharing some of your memories of growing up as "town kids" and "farm kids" in the Spring Valley area. Our children and grandchildren will enjoy reading our memories about the "olden days" as well as the enjoyment we'll all get from reliving those precious years gone by. Several of you have already written your memories and some of you just need a nudge to write them.

You may e-mai them tol Karen Olson or send them to her via U.S. mail at 20390 Fenston Ave., North, Forest Lake, MN 55025. 

Mary Louise Olson

   From my vantage point today and my previous life as a high school teacher, it seems incredible that I could have tried and then succeeded in such a bold request.
    A fall afternoon early in my senior year, I hurriedly made my way from the third floor study hall/library area to dash across the street to the "hall", where Phy. Ed. Classes met. The new state requirement that seniors should take such a class really rankled me. As a "know-it-all" senior, I had better ideas about how I should spend my time. In addition, wearing blue bloused gym outfits, white cotton tennis shoes, group showers, organized team sports (jock-type activities ) and most of all, sophomores in the class upset me. Totally focused on all these conditions and meeting the class on time, I whipped around the tall library shelves catching my new dress on a protruding nail. Rip! I now had a large three cornered tear in the skirt. This outfit had been purchased with my first summer job earnings, obviously precious in my sight.
    I never went to Phy. Ed. Class that day or ever again. Instead I stomped into Syver's office on the second floor. Always glad to visit with a student, he smiled broadly and asked if he could help me. Yes, indeed. He could get me out of THAT class! In his Norwegian accent he began to explain. "Vell, dat could be a problem, since Phy. Ed. is a required class." Quickly I engaged him in a conversation about the purposes and goals of such a class. He could only think of one good reason - high school students needed exercise. Aha! I filled the requirement. I assertively asked: " Didn't I live in the north end of town, a distance from school and didn't I walk to and from school including going home for lunch? Didn't I jump around as a cheerleader? " I certainly met the basic requirement for phy. Ed. Not so amazingly (since he was Syver) he agreed with me. "Yust make out a slip excusing yourself. I'll sign it and then you give it to the teacher." My thoughts, however, raced to what I would do during my new free hour. What fun would I have if my best buddy were not with me? I was not quite finished with my conversation with Syver. " What about Shirley Olson?" I asked. "She's the majorette for the band and also walks to school every day (albeit it was only to and from the bowling alley about a block away) and she turns cart wheels. She doesn't need the class either." "Vell, Syver graciously answered, "yust add her name to the slip."
    What an unbelievable accomplishment! The rest of the school year, it was Olson and my challenge, privilege and delight to be seniors free three hours a week with no supervision or accountability, thanks to a tear in a new dress.

By Dick Gueldner

   My memory is somewhat challenged and I may have some facts wrong but those of you who were present will surely remember Syver's speech at an all school meeting, which I think was the freshman class initiation.
    Bob Rutherford and I practiced this speech many times which went something like this:
"Some dirrrrty lowdown pup, from a dirrrrty lowdown pup of a family, has written on der john walls!"
    Syver kept going on this theme for a couple of minutes. After he was through the initiation of the freshman class commenced. Every one of the freshmen was to be onstage at some time during the initiation. But the best part was when the teachers got involved. Mr. Schultz, the tall and gangly music teacher, during one part of the initiation, ran across the stage looking furtively over his shoulder and carrying a huge pencil. The laughter maybe was somewhat subdued but I for one have enjoyed the image of Mr. Schultz carrying the pencil for years.
    I would be interested in other comments related to this occasion.

By David O. Stein

   Often I think of things that happened during the growing up years. Many of the things I recall involve John Kirk. It is strange from the standpoint that he was a town kid (city Slicker) and I was a farm kid. I think the common thread between us was the fact that we both had a streak of mischief running through our veins. I think he actually wanted to be a farm kid but never said so.

   When John came to visit me it seems that we ended up hunting something. Many times it was pigeons from our barn that usually roosted on the track at the top of the ceiling. There was no regard for the fact that the bullets would go through the roof and cause a leak each time we shot. That was from the inside of the barn. From the outside, the target of interest was to hit the weather vane and make it spin around. If that wasnÕt enough there was always a window or two that needed to be finished off. You know that once they are cracked they are no longer any good so need to be finished off. Dad could not understand where they went.

   One time John wanted to try to drive our Allis-Chalmers tractor. It was old with hand brakes and rather hard to drive. I turned him loose with it above the farm house adjacent to my motherÕs garden. I stayed with him to handle the brakes in case it got away from him. The weeds were two to three feet tall so John decided to knock them all down with the tractor. Of course the expedient way to do that would be in high gear which he did. He was going so fast that he bounced me off the back of the tractor and I landed face down on the ground. Like I said earlier my job was to stop the tractor or John. John thought he had run over me so he reached for the brake to stop the tractor. He did get it stopped eventually just before running into our house. He come running back to see if I was still alive. Lucky for me I was fine.

   Many times when there was a ball game at Spring Valley I would stay in town, usually with John. I helped him deliver his news paper route and then would go to the game with him and after the game spend the night at his house. I remember the night that we were walking to the game and John asked me if I would like a piece of chocolate. I said sure and the first piece tasted so good that I asked for another. What I did not know was that the chocolate was really X-LAX. I found out sometime during the game. I remember after several basketball games leaving the auditorium to find new snow on the ground. That was always a challenge to us to grab onto the rear bumper of the cars going down mainstreet and ski behind them in our snow boots.

   I recall skipping school one day and we went frog hunting. John said that frog legs taste just like chicken and I had never eaten frog legs so: We captured a frog and removed the legs, found an old rusty can, started a fire, heated the water in the rusty can, cooked the frog legs and ate the frog legs. Today, if someone did that they would die for sure. Another day when we skipped ( and we did not do it often) John and I decided to try out some of the booze that his father had stored above his basement stairs. I no longer remember what it was but it sure worked on us, John especially. He decided to take his fatherÕs car down to the high school at noon (I suppose to show off to the girls). The streets were icy so he had to do a donut in front of the school. DonÕt you know thatÕs how the rear fender got smashed when he hit the big oak tree in front of the highschool?

   I had a number of helpful friends during those years and it is fuzzy just who was involved with each incident. One Saturday I went out and bought a Model-A. It was a pickup someone had removed the rumble seat and made a box in its place to carry things. I paid a whopping $25 for it. That night, probably after a few drinks, we decided to make a hot rod of it. Sunday morning my mother told me that I better get out there because my friends were wrecking my car. By the time I got there, all that was left was the chassis, running gear and with hood and windshield. It was my fault because I was a part of the planning discussions. We mounted the headlights on the side of the firewall. I painted each part of the remaining sheet metal a different color. It was one of a kind if I ever saw one. I eventually built a platform on the rear with a buggy seat mainly because the tires threw a lot of mud and water so the platform doubled as fenders over the tire. I know there are some from our class that will remember the privilege of riding on that car. I never got a picture of the car so all I have is the memory and it was unique. One day at school my friends dared me to drive my car up two flights of stairs onto the basketball floor. Of course I never passed up a dare. They opened the double doors at the top of the first flight so I backed the car up the two flights of stairs onto the floor. I did not spin the wheels or anything but just drove the car back out. WouldnÕt you know, Syver was just coming from the boiler room after having his noontime smoke on his pipe, when I was half way down the stairs? He immediately called a general assembly. A general assembly meant that the entire school was to abandon class and reassemble in the bleachers adjacent to the basketball floor which they did. Then Syver called me onto the basketball floor in front of the entire school and just reamed me out for driving onto the basketball floor and banned me from ever driving that car to school again. That was probably my most embarrassing moment of my short life. My aunt Mary knew about the situation from her kids but she kept it from my mother for at least 25 years.

   One other story I would like to mention is the hunting cabin that John and I built. I donÕt know how we got the material but I am sure it was just laying around the farm somewhere. The cabin was approximately 10 X 12 feet and the entire outside was covered with galvanized roof sheeting. It had one door and one window. We had a small wood fired stove and a set of bunk beds in it. We built it on skids so we could pull it into the woods because that is where the big game roamed. We subsequently pulled it into our woods above the road on the Stamoen hill. I would bet that the remains are still there even though it has been 55 years or more. One night Bill Stein, John and I were sleeping in the cabin and Bill heard a noise I am sure he intended on saving our lives from whatever the intruder was but he leveled his shot gun at the door and let off the largest noise to be made by a 12 gauge shotgun. He blasted a large hole through the door. Luckily there was no one there. I remember that when there was a basketball game in the evening that the players would be allowed to go home and rest up for the big game. Sometimes our cabin was the place of rest with some interesting tales to tell. DonÕt ask me what I mean. I was never a ball player!!!!

   Another time the three of us were hunting in BillÕs uncle EastonÕs woods for squirrels. Bill said he had to go home to do chores and if he no longer was with us that we would have to vacate the woods. John and I wanted to continue hunting and Bill started for home. Bill turned around and said we had to leave. John fired a shot over BillÕs head into the tree Bill was standing next to. Bill immediately stepped behind the tree and emptied his 15 shot Mossberg 22 semiautomatic rifle at John and I. Luckily there was a large tree to hide behind. He was blasting the bark off the tree on both sides of us. I guess we got the message because we soon after left the woods and went home.

   John and I did a lot of squirrel hunting in our woods also. I remember several times that we would pull some large rocks loose and roll them down the hill. It was always amazing to see how fast they would go and the power that they had. They would knock down small trees and anything in their way. We worried that some day we would hit a car on the highway but we never did thankfully.

   I probably have as many memories of my other close friends such as Bill Stein, Alfred Kirshinski and Norbert Jensen. We did a lot of running around together, got into a little mischief now and then but never were destructive or cruel. And in case no one else recalls, remember the time we hung Jerry Mattison out the window of the science window by his feet. Ms Krawly (sp)nearly had a heart attack when he knocked on her window below. This could go on and on because I still have a memory but may not have after this reunion. Some of the rest of you have some interesting incidents to bring up too.

By John Kirk:

A couple of these little stories pertain to Syver.
    One day while we were all sitting in Anna Kramers bookkeeping class, Syver stuck his head in the door and only in his Norwegian accent can you invision this: "Has anybody in here got the itch?" Seems like some kids in school had contacted lice and Syver in his caring and professional manner wanted to nip this problem in the bud. Needless to say, he interupted Kramer's class and got all of us chuckling.

   Another story- I used to be in library when Syver took his turn at supervising the study hall. At one point on a given day, someone rolled a bunch of horse chestnuts down the entire length of the study hall ending up near to where Syver was standing. He then said in a very stern voice, "There shall be no throwing or rolling of horse chestnuts in the library".  As a footnote to this little story is the fact that the only horse chestnut tree in the entire Village of Spring Vally was in Syver's yard.

   Another funny little story about Syver was his business-like approach to running the school system. Like all Supt.'s, money was always a big part of any school function. One day he got up at an assembly and said that the "town kids " were going to have to change their eating habits - meaning that the only time those damn town kids eat hot lunch is when chicken or some other elaborate meal is served. "When we get free beans from the State, one never sees a town kid in the hot lunch line or for a hundred miles of the cafeteria."

   These stories are not quite as funny as hearing them with a Scandinavian accent, but any student who went to S HS and had Syver for a Supt. can imagine in their minds eye what all these stories and sayings sound like.

   There are some other stories too,that aren't so funny, especially if you were involved in the incident. Like the time some of the boys got caught urinating on the radiators in the boys bathroom. WHEW!. Syver was not pleased and neither was anyone else who got a whiff of the odor coming down the hallway. It's been many years since that little incident but I can still smell that odor when I think of it. Syver lined up all the boys in his office and went down the line slapping each on the face until he got a confession. Syver would be in jail if something like that were practiced today.

   Thereare many more stories and so I challenge all of you to recall and write them down and submit them to Karen Olson. I especially would like to hear a little more detail of Dave Stein taking his model A Ford up the gymnasium steps and what Syver did when he found out about it.