September 29, 2014

Experience Proves Valuable

September 29, 1983, was a particularly dark day in southwest Minnesota history.  On that Thursday morning, the lives of two area men were taken and changed irrevocably for yet two others.  It was thirty-one years ago Monday that Ruthon bankers Rudy Blythe and Toby Thulin were gunned down at the rural Tyler farm home of Steven Jenkins and his father, James.  The two then fled the state, prompting a nationwide manhunt, and ended up in Texas where the elder eventually committed suicide.  

The dramatic story was grim and ruthless most definitely, but of course it had to be told.  And the job of reporting those stories, at that time, was my father's, Lew Hudson, a veteran news reporter for the Worthington Daily Globe.  In all the years since and the countless stories he has written, his recollection of that fateful day on the news front remains one of my most cherished.

Catching drift of the double murder in the small Lincoln county rural countryside on the late September morning, and with a 11:00 a.m. deadline, the newspaper reporter found himself scrambling for a story to print. He was finding not much cooperation from the law enforcement officials who were busy with their own task of dealing with the slain men and chasing and apprehending the fugitive Jenkins and his son. 

And they weren't talking. 

So he enlisted the help of a young reporter at the Globe, Michel Pates.  "I told him we were going to have to find someone  other than a sheriff or policeman who knew something about what had happened and we had to do it fast," he remembers.  There are always people, Hudson related, who have seen something and are eager to tell what they know.  "All we had to do was find that person," he said.

Hudson followed the reasoning that in a farming community there were two places where people gather daily:  the bank and the farmer's elevator.  Calls to those locations in both Ruthon and Tyler led to nothing but dead ends for both reporters.  But before ending his final call, Hudson asked a bank official for the names of 2 or 3 farmers who lived in the area near where the alleged shooting occurred.  He started making calls once again.  After two misses, the third was the charm.  

"Bingo, I got a farmer who said he had just come by the scene."  Asking for anonymity, the farmer related what he had seen, which was a body lying in the road ditch and another  near the house, and added that the law enforcement officials on the scene revealed the names of the victims, Blythe and Thulin, to him.  He also verified that Steven and James Jenkins lived on the farm.  

"With deadline fast approaching I started writing," Hudson says, while Pates continued to call law enforcement officials in search of additional information. He turned up the fact that the fugitives, driving a white pickup truck, had been spotted by officers in Luverne but not apprehended. 

As the action continued to unfold, the newspaper presses prepared to turn and Hudson told his editor, who wasn't keen on the fact that the story was unverified, that he'd have to trust him.  "I trust my sources," he said, "because they have no reason to lie." It was one of the few times, he said later, that the newspaper had to go with a story that had no official verifiable source.  "There are always people who know things and good reporters learn how to find them," Hudson maintains.

Young reporter Pate later told his mentor that he had learned more about reporting on that day than all the years he spent in journalism school put together.  

We all learn by experience, but amassing that experience can take many years. 

Trusting the wisdom of someone who has that experience, well that could be one of the smartest things that you ever do. 

September 15, 2104

It's All Mom's Fault

I have a confession to make:  I like liver.  And I also like onions.  And what's more, I like them together, sauteed in a rich butter sauce.  Yes, that is pure comfort food for me.

The blame lies with my mother who knew exactly how to caramelize the sweet slices of onion and then cook the tender pieces of beef liver on top.  (She also made a wicked dish of creamed onions, but that's another story altogether.)

Not for the faint of heart, liver and onions is a dish that I do not indulge in on a regular basis, but there are times when the craving creeps in for a taste from the past.  And since I have a theory that food cravings reflect certain deficiencies in one's diet, of course I have no real good excuse to ignore them.

And so I recently went on the hunt for some good old fashioned beef liver.  The problem is, a thorough scan of the local grocery store's meat arsenal revealed nary a liver to be found.  Oh, there were chicken livers in the freezer, but they're not quite the same as beef liver and onions.  

Nevertheless I nabbed a carton of the chicken parts from the cooler and headed to the checkout stand with my liver discreetly tucked under my arm and a bag of fresh onions clutched in my hand.  You have to understand, paying for the purchase of liver has its pitfalls.  I've actually taken to devising an explanation for said grocery selection if a clerk makes a squeamish comment or two:  "It's for my cats.  They've been extra specially good lately and they deserve a treat....."

Still dismayed at the thought that my grocery store no longer stocks the age-old white plastic tub of baby beef livers on their shelves that have been available for as long as I can remember, I turned to plan B.  No fear, I thought to myself, just make a stop at the local meat market and inquire there.  So, sheepishly I did just that and, of course, Brian had just what I was seeking.  He presented me with a nice, neatly wrapped hunk of liver. He didn't even blink an eye at my request. But I guess he approves of liver consumption because he's in the meat business.

I left the store a satisfied customer.  I'm so easily amused sometimes that I scare myself. 

Boy were furry ones surprised when I showed up at home with the delectable raw liver and it wasn't for their enjoyment. Yes, the only disappointment felt at my house was from my cats, whose hopeful hearts sank when they realized that the liver treat I toted home was intended for their owner.

Well.....we'll see about that.  I guess it wouldn't hurt to share a morsel of two with them. After all, I can't really stand to see the disappointment in their eyes as they watch me savor each bite of sheer, comfortable joy.  

And they have actually been very good lately.

September 8, 2014

A New Twist on a Clean Sweep

We're gearing up to attend the Minnesota Renaissance Festival and this year we'll be clad in period dress of the Medieval Age.  I'm not particularly sure how I feel about that but it'll be an adventure, indeed and I'm always up for that.  

I thought about that while perusing Robert B. Forrest's rare and valued local history book, "Early Western Murray County History," just the other day.  Forrest published his book in 1947 and it is filled with delightful bits concerning the fledgling days of this very county. 

Read on:

Women Cleaned up the Town in the Good Old Days

  "The women took it on themselves in the old days to clean up the towns and villages, not in a moral sense but by keeping the sidewalks clean.  Every woman wore long skirts and when we say long, we mean just that.  No righteous woman would ever think of going down the village streets unless the hem of her skirt swept the dust from the streets and wooden sidewalks.  Some were even so timid that they sewed heavy iron washers in the hem of the skirt to keep it down.  Everything was left to the imagination.  One fellow told the writer that he never knew his wife had ankles until they were married. T here has been a noticeable change in recent years."

I'll say!!  While I've always suspected I was born into the wrong century, I'm not fully certain that I could abide the strictures placed upon women in those days.  It definitely would put a damper on day to day living, specially during the heat so common in these parts.

I can tell you one thing:  that never stopped my grandmother and her mother before her, and all of the wonderful women down the line.  They were strong, capable ladies despite the fact that the societal tenets decreed they dress in long, constricting and cumbersome dresses or other fashions. Maybe they knew something that the rest did not...

These days the roadways are kept clean by the enormous street sweepers and dust on the sidewalks is kept to a minimum.  So it would seem.  But take a closer look sometime and you might see the buildup of crud and grime on the streets where we live. 

After all, where are those ladies with the long, sweeping skirts sashaying down the walks keeping them spotless? They've moved on to greener pastures I suppose.