One hundred years ago, Minnesota’s Bureau of Labor distributed fliers warning young women not to look for work in “large cities” unless absolutely necessary. Those who decided to risk their safety were urged to write to the bureau ahead of time, so that a “responsible” woman could greet them upon arrival and escort them to their destination. Young men and boys new to the big city were apparently on their own.
|Minnesota's Bureau of Labor packed lots of useful advice into this little flier. (Image courtesy mnhs.org)|
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"We're more popular than Jesus now," John Lennon told an British journalist in 1966. A year later, the Monkees' Mike Nesmith, in the Twin Cities for a show at the St. Paul Auditorium, humbly explained his band's place in the cosmic pecking order.
Read it in the voice of Garrison Keillor for the full effect.
A musically inclined vagrant known as Banjo Ben walked the streets of Minneapolis in the city's early days. His weakness for alcohol and penchant for strong language landed him in court with some frequency. In February 1876, for example, he was sentenced to 20 days in jail for spewing obscenities at the St. Paul and Pacific depot. Later that year, he walked into the Tribune newsroom and issued an invitation to witness a spectacular feat at the new suspension bridge under construction nearby.
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Did Drew Pearson push off Nate Wright before snaring the winning touchdown pass in the Vikings' heartbreaking loss to Dallas in a 1975 divisional playoff game at Met Stadium? A Minneapolis Tribune account published the next day is clear: We wuz robbed.