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A fire broke out in the feather room of a Minneapolis bedding factory during one of the coldest weeks in the city's history. Firefighters raced to the scene, unrolled their hoses and turned on the water. The Minneapolis Tribune explained what happened next.
[This page one story had no headline]
|This three-column photo "WAS TAKEN BY THE TRIBUNE STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER FROM FROGS WHICH MR. DUFFY FOUND," according to the original all-caps caption.|
It is not every city the size of Minneapolis that can gather together its frog population in mid-winter at the alarm of fire and hustle them through its water mains to a fire in front of a water pressure of 80 pounds to the square inch. Of course it is not every day that a fire occurs in a bedding factory. The prospect of making a temporary winter home among several thousand dollars[’] worth of feathers might have been the inducement, but such is not believed to be the case.
At the fire of the Minneapolis Bedding company Tuesday a bushel of frogs passed though the mains, choked up the fire apparatus, necessitating the stopping of the engine until they were removed. In their hurried call to duty a number of these frogs were forced out of the automatic sprinklers, dropping upon the floor.
There is but a half-inch hole in the sprinklers, and the frogs in almost every instance were badly mangled after this tight squeeze. The picture above shows four of the frogs just as they were taken from the automatic sprinklers by J. B. Duffy, agent of the latter machines.
“I thought I would bring the documentary evidence,” said Mr. Duffy to The Tribune, “else people might be led to say that I had seen snakes, not frogs.”
Lying near the hydrant in front of the damaged bedding factory [at what is now 5th Avenue SE. and E. Hennepin] are at least two pecks of these frogs of all sizes and ages. On the floor is another lot of these little hoppers, and stuck in the sprinklers are many others.
The attention of the council committee on waterworks will be called to this matter, and a demand made for a speedy remedy of the existing evil. From the appearance of these little reptile in such numbers it would seem that there is very little effectiveness to the screen on the reservoir, placed there to catch sediment. A filtering process is badly needed.
During the excitement of fighting the fire these frogs were thought by the firemen and others to be nothing but a collection of green grass or seaweed. Closer investigation proved their identity. “It is nauseating to think about,” said Mr. Duffy, “but the public is invited to see for itself by a visit to the factory and the hydrant where the frogs now lie. The evidence is there, and the firemen will vouch for the truth of it.”
A committee of citizens will wait upon the waterworks committee at once and ask that the matter be looked into by the supervisor’s department.
The other day three frogs were removed from the water pipes at the public library.
Some mighty fine police work by a Minneapolis detective, as reported in the Tribune:
For three days Detective Wilson of the East Side Police station lay on a church pew in the gallery of the church of St. Anthony of Padua, Eighth avenue and Main street southeast, peeking between two prayer books he had braced against a pew in front of him.
|St. Anthony of Padua Church in about 1900. The towers were removed during a renovation in the late 1940s. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)|
Yesterday afternoon, after a score or more of worshipers in the church had left, a woman entered and went to the middle of the church. She lighted a candle, took off her shoes and tiptoed to the back of the church. Wilson and the sexton, who was keeping watch with the detective, said they saw her take a key from her pocketbook, unlock the box for contributions to the poor, take out the money and start back to get her shoes.
Wilson and the sexton hurried downstairs and arrested her as she was putting on her shoes. She had $1.44, which, they said, she had taken from the box. She gave her name as Alice Eastman. She lived in the University apartments, Fifteenth avenue and Fourth street southeast.
She told the police matron that she was poor and thought she had a right to the money in the box. This is the third time she has been arrested. Three years ago she was convicted of having broken into a desk in the First Baptist church. She was sent to the House of the Good Shepherd.
According to the police she was employed in the office of the board of education, marking examination papers of teachers. The rector of St. Anthony church reported to Captain Quealey that money had been missing from the poor box for several weeks.
A capital ideal for the new year: Give those gastric glands a big job every morning! Eat pie! From the Minneapolis Tribune:
The reader-inspired Good Fellows program, which filled thousands of Christmas stockings in its first year, also resulted in at least one proposal of marriage. The Minneapolis Tribune explained:
|Bohemian Flats, a flood-prone neighborhood on the Mississippi River near downtown Minneapolis, in 1894. (Hennepin County Library)|
In a column given prominent play on the front page of the Minneapolis Tribune, Joe Soucheray captured the hooliganism that took hold after the Vikings' final game at Met Stadium on Dec. 20, 1981. What inspired the madness that afternoon? A few days before the game, Minneapolis Star columnist Jim Klobuchar interviewed the team's ticket manager, Harry Randolph, about crowd control for Sunday’s game. This quote attributed to Randolph suggested the Vikings were taking a hands-off approach to souvenir hunters:
“All we want to do is to hold down the self-inflicted injuries to minor concussions and treatable fractures. If they are going to carry off their seats, we prefer handsaws to the standard Black & Decker ripsaws in the commercials. If they are going after the goal posts, we suggest they come wearing helmets and hard-toe boots.”
Klobuchar’s column drew complaints from the team, which disputed the quote and said it had to hire extra security for the game. By Tuesday, the Star acknowledged the humorous quote was a fabrication and Klobuchar was suspended for two weeks without pay. But the damage, whatever the proximate cause, was done. Here was Soucheray’s take on Met Stadium's messy final act:
|The trouble begins: Fans in the center-field bleachers hauled down the American flag in the fourth quarter. (Star Tribune photo)|
|Minnesota nice: One Vikings fan brought a sign to show his displeasure with the stadium's demise. (Star Tribune photo)|
|The oh-so-frozen tundra: The sun set on Metropolitan Stadium and its snow-covered parking lot in 1981. (Star Tribune photo)|