Fifty years? How the hell can THAT be?! I’m not sure, but it’s true. So here are some 50 year ramblings from a 4th generation Beaver Bay rube who went to school for 13 years in a town literally built from scratch to support Reserve Mining Company and its workforce.
I went to Campton and Kelley, graduating, as George Costanza would say, “in the meaty part of the bell curve.” Then did two years of programming school in Duluth, and like so many others from “the bay”, moved to “the cities” in search of work. Been in Hennepin County ever since.
Looking back, the thing that stands out the most is the geography where we lived. I always assumed everyone grew up on a hill with a sweeping 180° view of Lake Superior, all the way to the Apostle Islands. Turns out that’s not true.
As kids, we’d spend hours and hours in the Beaver River, the Baptism, Palisade Head, Gooseberry. And think nothing of it - that was our normal, that was our playground. Round up a dozen hooligans and play baseball all day in a field barely fit for a goat. Get up a pickup hockey game when the mighty lake gives us one of those rare massive wide-open rinks. Play boot hockey when it doesn't. Wear out another pair of denim cutoffs sliding down the rocks of the river. Race our sleds down any hill we could find, dodging trees and rocks, maybe cars. The place we called home is now a coveted destination for thousands of vacationers, from all over the world.
Something we didn’t realize back then is how good we had it for facilities - the schools, the athletic fields and arena, the resources for theater, music, and arts. Wood shops, metal shops - the list goes on. I guess that’s what happens when a town is built from scratch by a company with a lot of assets. Obviously when you’re building a town like that, you need a golf course, and they built us a gem. I can’t begin to count the hours I spent out there. As a caddy before reaching the magic age of 14 (minimum age to play without an adult). Then at age 14 and 15, playing every summer day, often 3 or 4 rounds a day. Then working there for a few summers. (I should probably put “working” in air quotes, right Mark Carlson, and Ken Reed?!) I’m still annoyed that they renumbered the holes, but not so much that I don’t go back every chance I get.
Congratulations fellow members of WKS '71 on achieving my status: OLD! Not everyone gets that privilege.
