On rare occasions, the Minneapolis Tribune of the early 1900s peeled off its topcoat, loosened its tie and offered readers Onion-esque tales like this. Read it in the voice of one my purported former babysitters, Garrison Keillor, for the full effect.
THE VICTIM OF SAD ACCIDENT
Man Pours Cream in Sleeve, Instead of Coffee.
He was a big man with a desperado moustache and a weak chin. His napkin was tucked under his collar and he read a newspaper while the waitress brought him breakfast.
Without raising his eyes from the paper, he grabbed the small pitcher of cream by the circumference, in a manner that would not have been permitted at his home table, and inserted it toward him and under his palm to connect with his coffee. The cream, obeying gravity laws, ran gaily down his arm inside his sleeve.
The waitress tittered. The big man grew fiery red and went out hastily, and he didn’t come back.
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In a convoy of six jeeps accompanied by a police escort, RCA Victor's Television Caravan rolled into Minneapolis in October 1947. Several hundred spectators packed the Donaldson's department store on Nicollet Avenue to see demonstrations of the new technology. The next year, KSTP became the first TV station in Minnesota to broadcast regularly, beaming 12 to 14 hours of programming a week to about 2,500 television sets in the metro area.
Just a year out of high school, 19-year-old Willie Mays took the field for the Minneapolis Millers on May 1, 1951, opening day at Nicollet Park. More than 6,000 fans watched the rookie notch three hits and make a "sparkling catch" against the flagpole. Another future Hall of Famer, Hoyt Wilhelm, was the winning pitcher.
A link between brain damage and anti-social behavior has been well-documented. It's unclear how well-documented the link was in 1920, when a court sent a robbery suspect to a St. Paul hospital for a bit of cranial surgery to cure his "criminal tendencies." Did it work? There's no mention of the suspect in subsequent issues of the Minneapolis Tribune, and no record of a Nobel prize for the surgeon.
Through protests and shareholder engagement, the Honeywell Project (1968-1990) sought to persuade Honeywell Inc. to start beating cluster bombs into plowshares. Molly Ivins, then a reporter for the Minneapolis Tribune, was on the scene when Jerry Rubin, one of the Chicago Seven, joined peace activist Marv Davidov and poet Robert Bly to lead the charge in Minnesota in April 1970.
Michael Welters, an old and highly respected resident of Chanhassen, was struck and instantly killed by a work train on the C M & St. P. road, west of the village of Chanhassen, about five o'clock Saturday afternoon, November 2, 1912. The old gentleman was on his way home from the village, and was walking along the tracks, and as he has been partly deaf for some time, it is supposed he did not hear the oncoming train in time to escape being hit.