I see a little of “The Little Rascals” in this Minneapolis Tribune report.
Honey Bee Colony Ends “Spelling Bee”
Racine, Wis., Sept. 8. – Angered because of excessive whispering during a “spelling bee,” H.E. Sherman, teacher in the Somers village school, was about to administer corporal punishment to a number of his pupils when he was forestalled by an energetic colony of honey bees.
Sherman, rod in hand, was set upon by the bee vanguard and immediately the “spelling bee” buzzed in the wildest confusion. The villagers, responding to the cries of the “stung” pedagog and the school, found that several colonies of honey bees had taken possession of the schoolhouse during the summer vacation.
The floors are being removed and the walls tapped in an effort to smoke out the invaders. The spellers-down are dronishly enjoying the interim.
More from Star Tribune
More From Yesterday's News
Stories that belong on page one don't always land there.
Minnesota issued its first driver's license in 1934. A single 25-cent fee covered licenses for every member of a household. You didn't have to prove you were a good — or apparently even sighted — driver: No test was required. A Mr. Inky Campbell of Minneapolis called attention to the situation in this persuasive letter to the editor of the Star. Within two years, Minnesota began testing prospective drivers. But vision was not part of the renewal process until 1972.
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."