In 1979, Jimmy Carter was President, McDonald’s released the Happy Meal, Nickelodeon debuted on cable, and the Department of Education was established. The year also saw a large number of walks and protests supporting LGBTQIA+ rights. A nuclear disaster on Three Mile Island experienced a partial meltdown, American Airlines flight 191 crashed (still the worst aviation accident in US history), and the Iran Hostage Crisis began.
An eventful year to be sure, especially for Amway. Founded in Ada, Michigan, the company is a pioneer in the multi-level-marketing bracket (if you haven’t watched LuLaRich on Amazon Prime, I recommend!), and by 1980’s they reached one BILLION in sales. However, in 1979 a judge for the FTC commission, ruled that Amway was NOT a pyramid scheme. So, although the ruling required Amway to comply with retail rules, it largely allowed (and still does) MLM’s to sell a get rich quick dream to distributors.
By the time Dan and Didi sent Mildred their card, she was 65 years old, and living in Crystal, Minnesota. On paper, she lived a somewhat hard life. She had four stillborn children, her husband died in the 1960’s, and it seemed she had to hustle for a living. Three years prior to this card, her mother, whom Mildred had lived with since the 40’s, passed away. Mildred would live another 32 years (until the age of 97!), and despite her hardships, she left behind a large legacy, including 6 great-great-grandchildren.
So who were Dan and Didi? My initial thought is that one of them was a grandchild. Howver, the phrase “Keep smiling, it makes people wonder what you’ve been up to” was something my grandpa always said. So, based on that alone I sort-of think that Dan and Didi were contemporaries of Mildred. They don’t seem to be a brother or sister, so that leaves friends.
However, seeing as it’s on an Amway postcard, and there’s nothing really personal about the card, I do wonder if Mildred was part of a downline for Dan and Didi. Meaning, I wonder if Mildred sold Amway products, and the people who got her into sales were Dan and/or Didi. It would make sense. Why else send an Amway themed postcard with a quippy message on it?
I’ll never know who Dan and Didi were, but thanks to a beautiful obituary, I got to know Mildred a little bit during my research. It’s always touching and rewarding to find a lovely memorial to the person who owned one of my postcards. I love breathing a little bit of life into these captured snippets of time.
Oh you kid: I’d enjoy another dance with you like the one I had at the Dickeyville dance. Would like to make a date with you, “You Honey Bunch”. Will try and be out for the 15th. Hope you will be there, dear. Will show you another good time. Oh honey I am so lonesome. From – you know who.
(flipped) Look under the stamp honey bunch. xxxxxxx
This is my picture honey.
(On front) I am ready xxx. From your sweet little wife. S.W.A.K
God am so home sick for a x x
Lloyds sweet wife ha ha
I can’t express to you how much I am obsessed with this card. Every inch of it is filled with writing. X’s dot the landscape of both the front and the back and someone added additional rouging and eyeliner to the image on the front. This postcard SCREAMS of some sort of joke, and I am absolutely here for it. So, let’s drop the card into history.
1911 sees the disaster of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York, the invention of Crisco, and the founding of the first movie studio. However, I have to wonder if the news of these events hit the small village of Potosi. Situated in the southwest corner of Wisconsin, modern day Potosi boasts a population of just over 600 people. Like many small towns, it was originally founded as a mining and farming village. Now, it hosts an annual catfish festival and fish fry the second weekend of August.
In 1911, Lloyd Hubler was a few months shy of his 20th birthday, and at least according to Family Search, still unmarried. He had one brother, who was 8 years his senior. Although the card puts Lloyd’s last name as “Hubbler”, I’m pretty sure it was “Hubler”. The Lloyd I found has a father named “William Scott”, but he’s listed as Scott W. in the census records. Seeing as the card was sent “c/o Scott Hubbler”, and the Hubler’s lived in Harrison County (where Potosi is located), I’m fairly certain I have the right man.
But birth days, death days, draft registrations, and the marriage index provide only the barest amount of context for a life. Who sent this card to Lloyd? Why? There are a few clues that we can use to point us in the right direction. Or at least to make some fun and semi-guesses.
First, the card was sent on February 16, two days after Valentines Day. My mind immediately goes to two scenarios. First, maybe there was a Valentines Dance for the surrounding area. Here, Lloyd met a girl and made the gravest mistake: he told his friends about her. Looking to pull a prank, they put together this card and sent it to him, care of his FATHER for added embarrassment.
Second, Lloyd’s older brother was 28 at the time. It’s possible he sent the card as a practical joke, but why would he misspell the name? While I think it’s possible he had something to do with the card, I doubt it was entirely done by the brother.
So, poor Lloyd had to deal with the embarrassment of being sent this provocative card. Because it was a postcard, everything could be seen by everyone. Not only could his father see and read it…but so could the postman, the postal workers…you get the idea. What did poor Lloyd do to deserve this humiliation? We will never know.
Lloyd did end up finding his “sweet” wife. In 1918, he married Leora Hinman. They went on to have three children. She outlived her husband by a decade, but I hope that their life together was S.W.A.K.
If you haven’t read my blog post from yesterday, I’d recommend going back and taking a gander. Though part 1 is not entirely necessary, you’ll have more context for this post because I’m going to basically jump right in.
Yesterday, I explored the story of Ida’s postcard and the complicated legacy of the dropping of the Atomic Bombs as well as Victory over Japan day (known as VJ day). As the world entered the Nuclear Age…Ida went on vacation to Natural Bridge.
But what about Mrs. Dana Lawrence, the recipient of the postcard? The more I searched, the more I found, and honestly the stranger it got. So, I’ll go in chronological order and start at the beginning: with Dana Lawrence.
Dana is the patriarch of the family. Born in 1875, he married his first wife, Helen Ethelwyn Briggs in 1897. Their marriage lasted until Helen’s death in 1906. She was 18 when she married, and only 27 when she died. Their union produced three children; Marion Louise, Robert Parker, and Leonard.
With three young children at home, I imagine Dana may have been looking for help. In 1908, Dana married Anna Maria Mathewson. THIS is our “Mrs. Dana Lawrence.” I’ve talked before about how women are often obscured in the historical record because they are referred to by their husband’s full name. This is one of the many times I’ve had to trace the man first and hope to uncover the woman.
Anna was 25 when she married Dana and bore two children: Lucy and George, and THIS is where it got interesting!
George Hill Mathewson Lawrence was actually the first member of the family I found, because apparently he was a somewhat famous and well thought of botanist! This is the first “famous” connection I’ve run across with one of my postcards and while it’s only niche famous, it’s still a pretty cool find — at least I think so.
I know for sure that George entered the military during World War II, serving as a Lieutenant in the Navy. I don’t know where he served, but seeing as Ida specifically asks if Anna had heard anything from the “boys since August 14,” I suspect it was in the Pacific. If you remember yesterdays post, Japan informally surrendered on August 15. So, the greeting makes sense.
Now, I’ve also promised you the Queen Mary, and don’t worry, I’ll deliver! Leonard Lawrence (youngest son of Helen) has an interesting attachment to his record. It’s the passenger list of the RMS Queen Mary. He took the liner from Southampton to New York City between April 25-April 29 of 1951. Apparently he traveled first class as well. The ship now anchors in LA as a popular tourist attraction, and is considered one of the most haunted places in America. But probably not with any of the Lawrence clan.
There are plenty of other tidbits I found, but not as interesting as the ones I’ve shared. Anna died in 1959, at which point I assume this postcard was boxed, shuffled around, sold, sold again, and so on and so forth until it made it into my hands. Once again, it’s the friendship between two women that uncovers a part of family history.
Yesterday we drove thru (sic) Shenandoah Valley, Luray, New Market, Staunton to Natural Bridge — First holiday in 4 years except Xmas day — Return by way of Charlotteville tomorrow.
Love to all,
Ida
I’ve been waiting to post this card until September 2, which in 1945 was celebrated as “VJ” day, or “victory over Japan” day. I planned to do a post that discussed the complicated legacy of the United States’ victory over Japan which resulted in utter destruction and death in Nagasaki and Hiroshima. That message is still at the heart of this post. However, the research into this postcard took twists and turns that brought me to a second wife, a famous botanist, and even the illustrious RMS Queen Mary.
Therefore, this post will be part one of two. To honor those men and women who fought and died in World War II, as well as the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, I will discuss VJ day in today’s post. Tomorrow, I will discuss the strange and winding tale of the Lawrence clan.
September of 1945 finally brought an end to the brutality of World War II. The war remains the bloodiest conflict in human history, with the deaths of an estimated 15 million military personnel and 38 million civilians.
Although Hitler met his demise on April 30, and by May 8 of 1945, the war in Europe was over, the US and her allies were still fighting the war in the Pacific against Japan. That war continued through the Summer and in weighing the death estimates of a full land invasion, President Truman made the decision instead to drop two atomic bombs. The United States dropped “Little Boy” on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, and “Fat Man” on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. These two bombs laid waste to the cities, and resulted in upwards of 200,000 deaths. More, if you count those who’ve died in the years since the bombings.
By August 15, Emperor Hirohito announced the unconditional surrender of Japan to the Allies. This agreement was formally signed on September 2, 1945 — hence the term “VJ Day.” This is likely the history you know, or at least partially know.
There are many conflicting opinions on whether or not the bombs should have been dropped. I, personally, am in the “should not have dropped it” camp. However, I am a cultural historian and I primarily studied the colonial United States. I can give you in depth information about the color “Haint Blue“, but if you ask me about military history I often come up short. All this to say, I’m not here to argue for or against one side. I think Truman’s decision was wrong, but I understand others may vehemently agree with me.
What’s clear is the atomic bombs not only quickly brought an end to the final stages of World War II, they also leapfrogged us into the nuclear age, cold war, and mutual assured destruction. History was forever and irrevocably changed in the few moments that it took to release those bombs on a civilian population. Humans of the world must live with those consequences, and we can’t ever go back.
The thing that strikes me about this postcard is the disconnect between Ida’s tone and the immense world changing events that are happening around her. Yes, she acknowledges that the war is over. Yes, she asks about the “boys” (at least one of whom was deployed and I will talk about tomorrow!), but then she goes straight into a discussion of her vacation. She even sends the postcard from the Natural Bridge landmark. It’s so scarily mundane.
I chose postcards for this little project specifically because they provide a small snippet of information about the life of a person. It’s like peeking into a half-lit window while you’re passing a house at 60 miles an hour. You get a small sense of their surroundings, but not intimate details. I understand that we can’t, and often don’t, get the true feelings or fears or hopes of the sender. However, it seems to me as though the atomic bombings loom much larger for us in 2024 than they did for Ida in 1945.
Instant access to news and information was not an option for Ida. Wartime propaganda and bias would have also influenced what she knew, how much she knew, and even what she thought. News of the bombings and the Manhattan Project was tightly controlled and in the aftermath of the bombings, 85% of Americans responded favorably and believed we should have dropped the bombs. They vividly remembered those lost in the storming of the Normandy beaches, and were glad the war would not claim any more American lives.
So the fact that Ida and her husband chose to take a vacation after 4 years of war was probably not that strange. They were celebrating victory, celebrating life, celebrating the end of the war and reveling in American patriotism. However, I can’t help but get the ick from it. I know this is because I have the benefit of history. But the dropping of the bombs was one thing I truly thought made the world stand still.
But it seems that some Americans went on vacation.
It’s a lot to think about, and I have to wonder what events will be momentous to our ancestors that aren’t truly hitting us yet. Or, perhaps it was too much for Ida to take in, or she felt powerless, so chose to spend time with those she loved? That, I can understand. So many things have happened in the last five years that made me feel powerless to the press of history. But, we keep living and doing what we can to maintain normalcy.
I’ll write you next week. I am having a fine time on the cornfield.
From a friend,
E.W.A
In 1906, Theodore Roosevelt was President, Upton Sinclair published The Jungle, and Oklahoma was still a territory, and not yet a state. By November, San Francisco had been devastated by a 7.8 magnitude earthquake, and in what the newspapers called the “crime of the century” Harry K. Thaw shot Stanford White in Madison Square Garden. The Progressives were making their mark on the American landscape…in whatever way possible.
And, as we know a little bit about postcard history, 1906 was an undivided back period. This is a time where postcards favored the front image and had very little space for any sort of message as the entire back was to be utilized only for the address. Although undivided back postcards often lack details for research, they are beautiful. Even the printed word “postcard” with a feather in the background is luxurious and hints at a fancier, more formal time.
This postcard is funny to me, largely because the sender has chosen a postcard of a “typical California home,” but sends the card from Lickdale, PA. Lickdale is a small, unincorporated town in the south east of Pennsylvania that shares a zipcode with a few other cities. The total population for the zip is upwards of 8,000 people.
Pretty far from California if you ask me. As a historian, I understand the magnetic pull that the west coast has on the American psyche. I have to believe that the image of curated palm trees in front of a Victorian/Gothic-esque house was a bit of wishful longing. Perhaps the two friends had dreams to move west, or loved the idea of California. Perhaps E.W.A just liked the postcard.
As for Lizzie J. Dearwechter, with a little bit of luck, and a lot of elbow grease, I managed to find her in the records. I had to follow a few lines of Dearwechters, but I did it! Lizze was born October 13, 1888, so by November of 1906, she was 18 years old. I was curious about Cresheim Hall, so I looked it up. It seems that it was a School for the Deaf in Mt. Airy, Pennsylvania. The only real problem that I’ve run into is that –other than this postcard — I can’t place her at this address with the sources available.
Miraculously, Find a Grave included more than a picture of the tombstone, it included Lizzie’s obituary! It’s a rarity, especially since she passed in 1976. I had hoped that maybe the obituary might allude to her time at the hall, or perhaps indicate whether or not she may have been Deaf. However, it provided no further insights. What we do know is that she was single in 1906, but had met and married her husband by 1908. She went on to have 13 children, and upon her death she was survived by 31 grandchildren and 42 great-grandchildren. A legacy indeed.
As for E.W.A…well they are impossible to track down. However, their quick note about enjoying the cornfields spawned a 118 year journey that led us to unravel snippets of Lizzie’s life. A life that saw the sinking of the Titanic, the Spanish Flu outbreak, both World Wars, the assassination of J.F.K, the moon landing, Civil Rights, and Woodstock…amongst other things.
In 1941, FDR was the President, Citizen Cane was released in theaters, Bob Hope hosted the 13th Academy Awards, and the US froze the assets of German, Italian, Hungarian, and other occupied countries. War hadn’t yet reached our shores, but preparations for the war had.
I love postcards that are sent to or from New York City. I’m a girl from the West — used to open spaces, mountains, and warm weather – so I’m always intrigued by the thought of city living. My grandmother grew up in New York City and I often think of her as well when I see these postcards.
This particular card is not so much intriguing as it is…silly? Fun? In my reading of the card, there’s an implied innuendo. The front of the card depicts a bed in the Lafayette Room at Lee Mansion in Arlington (colorized in the above picture). As you’ve read, the note on the back states “Don’t get me wrong – I’m only mailing a postcard.”
Yes, friend, but it’s a postcard with a picture of a bed! If I’d received that card as young adult, I definitely would have read into the meaning. I *for sure* would have gotten our friend S.B. *wrong.* Furthermore, the writer wants to downplay the fact that they wrote a postcard from Virginia and sent it to New York.
Sure, it only takes a few minutes, but typically one doesn’t send a postcard unless you care for the recipient. Also…the fact that there’s a bed on the front and the “don’t get me wrong…” on the back? My girlfriends and I would have dissected that meaning bit by bit in the waning hours after midnight, probably while drinking.
Again, we definitely would have gotten him wrong.
As for our recipient, Sadie Baris, I thought I would have a hard time locating her, but it turns out I got some results. There was a Sadie Baris in New York City who was born in 1909. If this is our Sadie, she was quite an accomplished woman. She became a lawyer in 1933 and eventually became a judge in New York. For a woman in the 30’s this is quite a feat!
So, was this our Sadie? The postcard is addressed to “miss” meaning that Sadie would have been unmarried in 1941. If this is our Sadie, she would have been 32 in 1941. A bit “old” to be unmarried. However, the Sadie I found didn’t marry her husband (Nathan Turak) until 1943, so I feel fairly confident this is a match. If true, Sadie Baris Turak lived to be 103 years old! She retired from her post as a judge when she was 100! Illustrious indeed.
What about S.B.? I do sort of thing this is a man writing the card – though it could be a woman as well – and I will argue that the card was suggestive in nature. Perhaps I’m so far off. However, it lends a bit of fun and drama and life to the past. But, what do you think? Is this a case of flirtation, or a cheeky note from a family member? Let me know!
From the “what are you doing now days” (without a question mark) to the childish script so lovingly labored over, childhood innocence spills out of this postcard. In fact, it’s what truly draws me to this particular card in my collection. I get this vivid image of a young girl writing at a small table, her tongue stuck out in concentration, her palms sweaty as she tries to perfect each swoop of the cursive lettering. Truly beautiful.
Unfortunately, there’s no postmark, so it’s hard to say when — or even where — the postcard is from. Based on the handwriting, my guess is that it lies somewhere between 1910 and 1920. However, without a stamp the only thing we know for certain is that it was after 1907 (the divided back strikes again!).
When setting out to research this card, I felt pretty positive I’d be able to find the sender or recipient. I had both names, a place, and some sort of family connection, so I really believed that I’d be able to go down a family line and find Nellia and Lola.
Oh, how naive I am.
Much to my chagrin, I couldn’t find Nellia or Lola at all. Even accounting for the fact that Nellia may be a pet name, and is more likely to be “Nellie” in the records. I immediately found a promising family, but there wasn’t a sister or cousin that I could trace to them. In that research, however, I did find a beautiful Nellie Frey Hagburg. Her photo is blurred, but she’s staring out of the frame with a slight smile on her face and has a Mona Lisa quality to her.
That Nellie is not our Nellia, but she died of consumption at 19, followed the next year by her mother. A pattern of loss that must have devastated the family.
As for Mapleton, it’s a small town located in the southern quadrant of Minnesota. As of 2020, the town only had 1,700 people, 3 full time police officers, and a volunteer fire department. I’m willing to bet that Nellia was of German decent, and was first generation in the midwest.
Without a postmark or stamp I have to wonder how Lola got her card to Nellia. I suspect they are cousins. Perhaps one brother was visiting the other and took the card. Perhaps Nellia and Lola were of the same age, and an older cousin was visiting Lola’s house and took the card. We can’t be sure of any of it. But, the card exists in the record as a memento to the love and innocence of childhood bonds.
To: Mrs. F.W. Sargeant From: Ruth, circa 1907-1929
It is deeply gorgeous here. The glee club has come to Charlottesville for the day, and we’re driving (or buying?) up all the (?)
— Ruth
This postcard is maddening because the postal mark is in near perfect condition with the exception of the date! I obviously don’t know the exact year, however we can at least put a date range on the postcard if we examine the breadcrumbs left to us by history.
Between 1898-1917 it only cost 1 cent to mail a postcard. We can at least see the 19 on the postmark, and while the handwriting is luscious, it’s not the turn of the century script I’d expect to see in an early 1900 postcard. Our other clue is one we’ve seen time and time again — the divided back! So, the postcard has to be post 1907. That leaves us with a ten year range: 1907-1917. However, I have other postcards from after 1917 that have a 1 cent stamp. So…my instinct says this is closer to the 1920’s. Similar postcards are dated in the late 20’s — which is more in line with the handwriting on the card.
I adore that Ruth wrote while she was traveling with the glee club. She sent the card in April, so it’s not necessarily a summer trip, but could still have been a school trip. It’s possible she’s writing to a sister or an aunt or maybe even cousin. I don’t think it’s her mom. The tone of the card is too matter of fact. Sort of like she’s on this trip that she wants people to know about — but she’s not necessarily missing anyone.
So what of our sender and recipient? 741 Chestnut Street still stands in Manchester, NH. It was built in 1895, which lends credence to an earlier date. Like so many other times before, we run into the problem where the woman’s name is erased. “F.W.” is likely Mrs. Sargeant’s husband’s initials. Without either her first name, or her husband’s name, it’s pretty difficult to track down the original recipient.
There were a few promising matches. I found a Forest W. Sargent that I thought might lead to something, but alas I could never match the address to the name. Of course if I paid for property records I’m sure I could find them, but for this amateur postcard genealogist that’s not in the cards for now.
Suffice it to say that Ruth had a lovely time with the Glee club. I imagine that she’s somewhere in her teens or early twenties, traveling with bosom buddies, and living in the bright rays of late spring soaking up her days of youth.
Front of Postcard depicting Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson
Roanoke is preparing for blackouts and everyone is cooperating well. Thanks for the card. Do you have L.L. Iowa or other cities? I’d like a card of each scene as shown in little’s CEDAR RAPIDS. Thanks and write soon.
Sincerely,
Mary E. Wood
422 Albemarle Ave S.W.
Roanoke, Virginia
Have you any foreign correspondents?
By the time Mary wrote this letter, the United States had newly entered World War II. A few months earlier, in February, a Japanese submarine had attacked an oil refinery in Santa Barbara, California. Though the attack didn’t cause much damage, fears and tensions in the United States were high. Shortly after the attack on California, FDR signed Executive Order 9066 which led to the internment of 125,000 people, two thirds of which were American Citizens.
In April, the country was already well on its way to mobilizing for war. In preparation, many cities — including Roanoke — were practicing blackouts. The city had practiced at least two blackouts by the time Mary sent her letter to Ethyl. Families bought blackout curtains for their windows and hoods for their headlights. At some point during the blackout, air raid sirens blared and people extinguished lights, pulled over and listened for the test to be over.
The fear of invasion is a type of fear I hope I never have to experience, and to see it documented in this letter is so interesting. Mary expresses prepping for an invasion first, which tells me it was probably at the top of her mind.
However, the wartime blackout conditions are juxtaposed by Mary’s request for different types of postcards. It almost seems like she’s part of some sort of post crossing program before post crossing existed! Or, as we elder millennials remember it as: pen pals. I do wonder if Mary personally knew Ethyl and the two of them were simply card collectors, or if it was a type of pen pal program. Very interesting.
As for Mary Wood, I think I found her. She was born as Mary Ellen Thurston, but her first husband had the last name Wood. She later divorced and remarried, becoming Mary Ellen Truslow. What’s strange is that I found her second marriage certificate, which listed her birthday year as 1927, but her grave and all other documentation lists 1921.
As for Ethyl, funnily enough the first thing that popped up when I searched was another postcard to her. Same address, though a different sender. Wouldn’t that have been the bee’s knees? After a little more digging on Family Search, I managed to ascertain that she probably passed away shortly after World War II — 1953 to be exact.
The obituary states that she had suffered from an “illness for the past year.” Two of her sons died shortly after, one in 1955 and another in 1958. An overall sad end to an interesting postcard.
I hope that the two women remained in correspondence until Ethyl’s untimely death. Perhaps this small blog post can help keep the memory of their connection alive.
Front of Postcard. One of a few Natural Bridge postcards that I own
Fred writes she has telephoned you twice & again but doesn’t get you. Think of me out in the wild west.
Howard
I don’t know why, but 1909-1915 is my favorite era of postcard. The front’s are always colorful, the script on the back is beautiful, and the postcards always seem to strive for real connection over the many miles that separate the senders. By September of 1911, the New York Public Library was opened, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire had killed 129 people (mostly women), and the RMS Titanic was in the final stages of being built.
By 1911, there was also roughly one phone for every 11 people. So, although telephones were gaining popularity, it must have been fairly frustrating — or concerning — that “fred” wasn’t able to reach Cora.
In fact, it feels as though Howard is chiding Cora a little bit when he says “she has telephoned you twice & again but doesn’t get you.” I have to wonder if he would have sent Cora a card if not for the letter he received from “Fred”. “Fred” being Winnifred, or maybe Freda? Was our ellusive Fred concerned or annoyed when she wrote to Howard? In turn, was Howard also concerned, or was the letter more of a paternalistic scolding?
It seems the entire point of the message is to let Cora know that Fred is trying to get in touch, and honestly a postcard is bit of a roundabout way of doing so. What was everyone’s relationship to each other? Family, friends, or something more?
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to easily find Cora Scott. It seems there were quite a few living in Buffalo, New York around the turn of the century. I was able to weed some of them out based on age (too young or too old), but I couldn’t be certain about any of the others. There’s a small penciled in note at the top of the card that says “Ann”. Based on the style of writing, it was obviously added much later in time. I had hoped that “Ann” might be a sort of bread crumb that I could use to track Cora. Alas, no luck. I couldn’t find any Cora’s with a sister or daughter named Ann. Such is the way of things sometimes.
As for Howard and Fred, without last names there’s not much I can do. We know that in 1911 Howard was in Minnesota, but that’s all we know. I’m not really sure Minnesota qualified as the “Wild West”. I mean, yes, it’s in the midwest. But…the American frontier officially “closed” in 1890. By then, most of the people in the Western territories lived in growing cities. There were still many rural, small towns, but Duluth? 78,000 people. More like an urban jungle not the O.K. Corral.
That doesn’t mean Howard wasn’t on his way further West. These cards made their way to a California estate sale, so who knows where Cora, Howard, and Fred all ended up. They remain inextricably tied to one another 123 years later, thier memories of their connection captured in the postcard.
Hipstory 