William D. Enger and Effie J. Mestad, AKA, Opposites Really Do Attract!

            Effie Mestad, age 3            "Little Willie Cigars" photo, age 2

                  William D. Enger was born November 19, 1899 in Hanley Falls, Minnesota to Edward Ellingsen Enger and Hannah Larson, both children of Norwegian immigrants.  Bill Enger, or Little Willie as he was fondly known, grew up in Hanley Falls surrounded by a large extended clan of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  Ed was the town Marshall, Deputy Sheriff, and Fire Chief at various times, and belonged to several fraternal organizations such as Odd Fellows and Masons.

Before long younger brothers and sisters joined the family, too;--Earle 1904; Hazel 1907; and Stanley 1911, were all born in Hanley Falls.  Arthur, 1902, was born in Lengby, Minnesota because Hannah and Ed went there to stay with her parents, Martin and Mattie Larson, for a time while Little Willie recovered from a nearly fatal case of measles and pneumonia. The doctor in Hanley had recommended to Ed and Hannah that they take their sick baby to the woods to recuperate, and so they did—and he did—after which they came back to Hanley Falls.

In 1912 when Bill was 12 years old Ed was hired by the M & St. L Railroad as a water expert, and in order to be closer to his work he moved the family to Winthrop, Minnesota for two years, then to a small farm in Wisconsin for three years, on to Minneapolis where their last child Vivian was born in 1916, and then to Hopkins, Minnesota for a year. During World War I there was a real shortage of men to work on the railroads, and Ed was asked to go to North Dakota to take over the supervision of railroad bridge building and water stations in the Missouri River Division near Washburn.

 

Bill and Effie Enger met in 1919 on the North Dakota prairie

Bill, who was the only one old enough for army duty, was rejected due to “flat feet” so he was working on the railroad with his Dad. (Note: He could outwalk anyone with those flat feet, even up in his 70's). In 1919 Ed had saved some money and decided to buy Rice Lake Ranch north of Ryder, North Dakota, which was for sale with its stock.  The ranch came with 1200 owned acres, 2500 leased acres, 200 cows and 50 horses.  Bill moved to the ranch with the rest of the family, and thus fate once again intervened to change the course of history!



Vivian, Effie, Bill and Art at Rice Lake Ranch, 1920

 

It so happened that a new young schoolteacher came to the nearby one-room schoolhouse in 1919 for a teaching job.  She was Effie Jeaneatta Mestad from Kenmare, North Dakota who had graduated from Kenmare High School in 1917 and then attended the Minot Normal School to become a teacher.

Effie, born August 1, 1899 in Wallingford, Iowa,  was the youngest daughter of John Mestad of Kenmare, son of Norwegian immigrants from Voss, and the late Caroline Jacobson, the daughter of Danish immigrants from Aalborg.  John and Caroline Mestad were married in Iowa and homesteaded to North Dakota in 1900 with their four daughters.  Caroline died on the homestead in 1902 leaving John to raise the four girls. He moved to Kenmare and in 1906 was remarried to Olga Estabrook. After the four daughters left home John and Olga moved to Minot and ran a small grocery store.

Bill Enger’s younger siblings, Hazel and Stanley, were students at the Ryder School and Effie became their teacher.  Bill was a young man of 19 by then and he was curious about the new gal in town.  He \asked his father Ed what the new school teacher was like, and Ed, in his usual teasing manner, said “Oh, she is just an ugly old hag and you wouldn’t like her.”  Bill took him seriously and didn’t bother to go near the schoolhouse.

Effie, in the meantime, was rooming with the Dopp family on a farm neighboring Rice Lake Ranch.  On the 1920 census for Ward County, Rice Lake, North Dakota, taken on January 24, 1920, we find Edward Enger, 46; farmer; Hannah, 40, wife; William 20; Arthur 17; Earle 16; Hazel 12; Stanley 8; and Vivian, 3 ½.  The very next entry is Ira Dopp, farmer, 34; wife Bell, 35; daughter Dortha, age 13; and Effie Mestad, boarder, teacher in public school.”

One day Effie decided to go on a visit to Rice Lake Ranch to meet the parents of her students and she came  riding up the Enger’s driveway on a horse.  Effie was indeed a beautiful young woman and she immediately caught Bill’s eye. “Who is that!” Bill asked. “Oh,” said his amused father, “that’s the ugly old schoolteacher I was telling you about.”  Bill was quite upset with his father for fooling him like that, and now he definitely wanted to meet that schoolteacher.  He had wasted too much time already!

Bill worked up the courage to ask Effie for a date.  She said yes, and to impress her Bill borrowed a team of horses and a buggy from a friend.  He proudly drove over to the Dopp residence and helped Effie into the buggy.  To show off a bit he cracked the whip, startling the horses so they took off and separated themselves  from the buggy, leaving it behind in the dust.  Bill was still holding tight to the reins and the horses dragged him for a ways before he got them stopped.  When he came back to where he had so abruptly left Effie, the buggy was upside down and she was under it.  What a way to impress a first date! 

Luckily neither of them was hurt, except for Bill’s pride of course.  Years later when they were telling me this story I said, “Wow Mom, and you went out with him again after that?” She smiled coyly and said, “Well, we were about the only two young people out there of dating age. We didn’t have a lot of choices!”

In March of 1920 a North Dakota blizzard of epic proportions visited the Ryder prairie.  Effie and her students were already in the schoolhouse when it hit and it soon became obvious that this was going to be a big one.  Effie made up her mind that she and all of her students were going to stay in the schoolhouse until it was over, as some of them lived quite a long ways from the school.  A few of  the older boys said they thought they could make it to their homes but little Miss Effie Mestad, who was smaller than most of them, put her foot down and said, “NO!”  No one was going to leave that schoolhouse until the storm was over or until someone came to rescue them.  She went so far as to follow them outside if they had to relieve themselves to make sure they came back inside.

If you know anything about North Dakota blizzards of those days, the fierce winds and blowing snow made it impossible see your hand in front of your face.  All the farms had ropes tied between the house and the barn in the winter so they could make their way back and forth to care for their animals. 

Bill and Effie were seriously dating by that time, and in fact were secretly engaged!  Bill knew Effie was at the schoolhouse, and the harder the blizzard raged the more worried he became.  He went to the barn, hitched the horses to the sleigh, and started them in what he thought was the direction of the school but the horses were too smart and just went in circles right back to the barn so Bill had to give up.  Others also tried to get to the school and were turned back.

Meanwhile Effie and the students—all of them—were perfectly fine.  They used their coats for beds, kept the heating stove going, and ate the meager leftovers from the lunches they had brought to school that day.  When rescuers were finally able to make it to the schoolhouse the next day by following the fenceposts they found everyone hungry but safe. Later it was discovered that some students from neighboring schools had tried to make it home during the storm and had been found frozen to death.  Effie was touted as a heroine for keeping her children safe.

Effie wrote to her father in Kenmare telling him of her experience and John Mestad was so proud of his daughter that he published the letter in the Kenmare newspaper.  My Mom had often told me this story but she no longer had a copy of the article.  In 1992 I visited Kenmare and decided to try and find the article in the newspaper but I didn’t know exactly where to look.  I knew it had to be in the winter of 1919 or 1920 but I looked through all of those issues up to April and didn’t find it.  I was just about to give up when I came to the issue dated April 8, 1920, and there it was.  It had been a very late blizzard!

The Kenmare News, Oldest Paper in Ward County, April 8, 1920:  Ryder, N. Dak., Mar. 21, 1920: 

“Dear Papa—I suppose you are wondering how we got over the blizzard;  that is if it was as bad there as it was here.  In the school south of Ryder there were four little boys started home from school in an open sleigh and the horses got down in a slough and couldn’t get up again.  The two oldest boys worked with them a long time but no use.  They were 14, 12, 10 and 9 years of age. The 12-year-old boy was all tired out so sank in the snow and went to sleep.  The 14-year-old boy got almost within calling distance of the house but could go no farther, so sank there.  The other two were in the sled and the 10-year-old boy covered the other one with a blanket and laid over him to try and keep him alive, but as you know the snow was wet and then it would freeze, so being all wet it was impossible to keep alive.  The father had started out about four o’clock to meet the children if they should be coming from school, but it was impossible for him to face the wind so he went back in the house, saying that the teacher would surely keep the children at the school house as she had board and lodging there for herself.  That night the father and mother felt so gloomy, but the father kept telling the mother that he knew they staid (sp) at the school house and that God would surely take care of their little ones.  In the morning it was just as bad so the father started out to the school house with something to eat for the children.  When he had gone a little ways he saw an overshoe sticking up in the snow, and he commenced kicking at it and found it was solid, so he kicked a little more and saw a leg and then he knew.  He didn’t seem to realize so he carried this boy to the house thinking he had started out walking but the others were still at the schoolhouse.  There was a little life left in the boy but he died before he reached the house.  The father went on and then when he saw the sled he realized what had happened.  The horses were standing with their backs to the wind still alive.  The one little boy in the sled lived a little while after he got home, but he died soon.  They had a funeral Saturday in Ryder.  Think of a poor father having to buy four little coffins.  They have one 16-year-old boy left now.  It seems a pity but I suppose it is all for the best.

There was a bachelor south of here found leaning against a barb wire fence frozen also.  In Max the man driving the school wagon started out with the kids but his horses got down and couldn’t go any farther.  He went out and unhitched the horses and let them go.  Then he crawled into the covered wagon and stayed in there all night with the children and kept the fire.  He was pretty wise.  I hear in several other places there were school children frozen.  I heard there were seven frozen around Berthold.

Now, I will tell you about my school.  At recess Monday afternoon I warned the kids that not one of them should leave the room.  The little girls and little boys didn’t get a smell outside unless I went along and then didn’t go only outside the door.  The big boys didn’t get out either unless it was absolutely necessary.  After school it was no better so I said not one of them were to stir outside unless someone came after them.  The Peterson boy, 16 years old, had a sled and horses there and his brother 14 and 5 little sisters.  He said he thought he could get home all right, but nothing doing!

Believe me, I watched that door like a cat and every five minutes I counted the kids to see if they were all there.  The time dragged on and we had no supper and were getting hungry, as we only had a cold lunch for dinner.  But it got no better outside so about ten o’clock we made beds for the little girls and boys on the desks with coats.  The boys laid on the floor around the stove curled up like dogs.  It seemed like there were kids all over.  I sat up all night and kept a good fire as the kids were laying around with nothing over them.  I locked the door, too, and there we were.  The water leaked in the ceiling so one side of the room was all wet.  Luckily we had two lamps with chimneys and kerosene.  I kept one lamp burning low all night, waiting for it to get better and for somebody to come.  I believe it was the longest night I ever spent.  I made the kids shut up and try to sleep a lot.

Morning finally came and it was comical to see the different positions and sleepy heads.  Late Tuesday morning a couple of men got to the schoolhouse, and believe me we were hungry!  They brought us something to eat but it didn’t last long.  We didn’t have any school the rest of the week because I was too tired and then it was all wet in there.  It was quite a nervous strain, too, you know.  I guess it was hard for the parents, too, as they did not know but what I was some little greenhorn that didn’t know anything.  You have always told us about those blizzards so I guess that’s why I was so careful.

It is real nice and springified today. Write and tell me how Kenmare cam out in the blizzard.

Lovingly, Effie

P. S. One teacher in Max had to stand by the door and lock it and hit the big kids over the head with a ruler to keep them.”

            I was so thrilled to find the article, but that wasn’t the end of  my bonanza.  I hit the jackpot again when I looked through the rest of the paper of April 8, 1920.  There on the social page was the following announcement:

Bill and Effie Enger circa 1921

“Miss Effie Mestad surprised her Kenmare friends the latter part of last week when she arrived from Ryder to spend the Easter vacation with her father, J. H. Mestad, and gave out the news that she was married.  The ceremony occurred in Minot on March 29^th.  She was united in marriage to William Enger of Ryder.  The groom is a well-to-do young man and is associated with his father in conducting the Rice Lake Stock Ranch near Ryder.  The bride is a fine young lady and was reared in this city; a graduate of Kenmare High School and is teaching her third term of school in the Ryder district.  The many friends of the bride in this vicinity join extending congratulations.  She is at present visiting her sister, Miss Mayme, at Portal but expects to return to Ryder about the middle of the month to finish her school term, after which they will take up their home on the groom’s farm.  The ceremony was performed by Rev. Lund, pastor of  the Lutheran Church.”

It turns out that after the “big blizzard” of 1920 my parents decided to elope to Minot and get married, then go back to their homes and not tell anyone until school was over.  The main reason was that in those days school teachers were supposed to remain single.  Somehow the word got out but the school board thought enough of Effie to allow her to finish her school term.

(Note:  The part about my father being a “well-to-do young man” was a bit of a stretch, but I am sure that it was written by Effie’s  sister Cora who aspired to be a writer and an actress and was always slightly over-dramatic!)

Effie and Bill were married just short of 56 years when my Mom died on February 26, 1976.   They were the parents of five children who brought forth sixteen grandchildren who now are bringing forth the greats and the  great-greats.  That’s all for now.  Stay tuned for the rest of the “Bill and Effie” saga in a future blog!