Al Bossard of St. Paul began making cigars by hand in about 1903. At his peak, he rolled 400 to 500 cigars a day, and his clientele included "fine people … doctors, lawyers, businessmen." He had reached his 88th year when he was featured in this Minneapolis Star photo. "I’ve had to slow up some now," he said, "because there are days when I can’t feel the tenderness of the cigars right." He didn’t spend his entire life hunched over tobacco leaves. At 15, he ran away from home and joined Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show as a performer, playing "800 or 900 state fairs around this part of the country."
Al Bossard's photo accompanied a story previewing a Victorian craft festival in St. Paul that featured "calligraphy, crewel work, hair work, lacemaking, macrame, needlework and other Victorian crafts."
More from Star Tribune
More From Yesterday's News
The story of one infant left on the counter of a confectionery shop on Lyndale Avenue S. in 1909 resonated more than most "foundling" stories.
The young woman who hatched the insurance idea described in the Minneapolis Tribune story below appears to have been an intelligent person with a broad range of interests. So how did she come up with this cockamamie idea?
The guidance offered in early horoscopes published in the Minneapolis Tribune sounds very familiar: "Women should be exceedingly cautious in all love affairs, as they are likely to be easily deceived and greatly disappointed."
Miss Louisa M. Alcott died this morning. Coming so soon after the death of her father, the suddenly announced death of Louisa M. Alcott brings a double sorrow. For a long time Miss Alcott has been ill, suffering from nervous prostration. Last autumn she appeared to be improving and went to the highlands to reside with Dr. Rhoda A. Lawrence. While there she drove into town to visit her father, Thursday, the 1st, and caught a cold, which on Saturday settled on the based of the brain and developed spinal meningitis. She died at the highlands early this morning. Miss Alcott was born on an anniversary of her father's birthday, and it is singular that she should have followed him so soon to the grave.
Have you read "Canoeing With the Cree," Eric Sevareid's engaging account of his 1930 canoe trip from Minneapolis to Hudson Bay? Sevareid, 17, and a 19-year-old friend paddled more than 2,200 miles that summer. A few decades earlier, another 17-year-old boy from Minneapolis and two friends set out on a canoe adventure that was nearly as ambitious.