pages 13-14
In the beginning, there were three of us: Shorty,
Clarence, and me, all students in our second year of college at
the University of Minnesota at the Saint Paul Campus. In this
winter of 1931 we were living in a rented summer cottage on
the shore of beautiful Lake Johanna, which was approximately
four miles north of Saint Paul. We had two cars; mine was an
old model A Ford with a rumble seat.
This enchanting lake was perhaps five miles either way
and surrounded by trees to the north, a country road with
many cottages to the west, and to the east a Catholic school for
emerging priests where, in addition to the handsome buildings
and grounds, they had a short, finely crafted wooden bridge
connecting to a small island. This small island was heavily
wooded, and at the top of its hill and accessible by path only,
stood a small but majestic chapel whose melodious bells we
could hear at the cottage.
To the west, and across the road, was the Ernest Sanders
Farm. Great people - we made arrangements to buy a quart of
milk from him each day for ten cents. So each morning, when
he was hand milking his cows, we would go over with a dime
and a one gallon pail. Many times we would return with
almost a full bucket. On one or two occasions we milked his
herd for him, so I guess in the end, we all came out even.
A short distance around the lake to the south another
rancher named Tony Gauzer lived, and it was through him that
we gained a road to the lake shore for our building project.
We three had been together, more or less, through all
four years at the School of Agriculture and two years at the
college. We had experienced dormitory life together. Then we
three, plus five other male students, rented a whole house for
three semesters. Our minds were hungry for knowledge, and
we would get into long and sometimes heated discussions...