The pace has been brisk as final preparations are made for Wishek’s 125th birthday this weekend. We’re calling it the 125th because quasquicentennial uses entirely too many letters. You have to be a 4X just to get it on a T-shirt.
The WPA-era historic Wishek Civic Center, home of Sauerkraut Day (the second Wednesday each October), looks stately. The water tower has a new coat of paint, including South Border Mustang logos.
Not everyone is thrilled. If Wishek City Councilperson Kathy Welder had her way, the iconic Wishek Badger would be up there. When Wishek and historic rival Ashley formed a cooperative a couple decades ago, former Wishek Editor Francis Materi hated it, too.
This new generation of kids doesn’t care about any of that. They often develop strong friendships… boyfriend-girlfriend stuff… cross-pollination… dogs and cats living together!
It’s dwindling older generations of Badgers and Aces cling to the rivalry. An Ashley oldster once told me an old joke: “Everybody flush! Wishek needs the water.” And he was a retired minister.
When the Bender Family purchased the Wishek Star and Ashley Tribune in 1998, we walked into those politics, a Wishek Centennial, and the first of what would be many—and still counting—Ashley-Wishek state wrestling championships. We continue to enjoy some fine athletic programs.
Amidst the preparations, I began to reminisce. In 1998, the internet was picking up steam and some “experts” didn’t give newspapers much more than a decade. But, we saw still-robust communities that were 100 miles from any big city and doggedly independent. We thought could make it here.
With hard work and a lot of community support, we’re still standing strong. We’ve evolved. Today, the Wishek Star and Ashley Tribune are available on the internet at mcintosh-star-tribune.com. Like the successful businesses in this area facing shrinking populations, we’ve expanded our reach.
That’s what’s remarkable about Wishek. There are two car dealerships, two implement dealerships, a vastly-expanded hardware store, a fencing supply company that brings people in from two states away, a homebuilder that annually sends scores of completed houses hundreds of miles in every direction, a regional hospital, nursing home, and dozens upon dozens of other businesses. Wishek’s become a destination community. A big regional economic engine.
You can count on another big shindig in 25 years.
Every community has a personality, and Wishek’s is, well, direct. My friends wondered how I’d do in the second-most conservative county in the state. Just great, and I’ll tell you why. These stoics would give you the shirt off their back. A few years ago in a conversation with a conservative local business owner, I kiddingly referred to myself as a “wild-eyed liberal.”
“No,” she corrected me, “You’re a moderate. “But around here, moderates just seem liberal.”
One day, I was taken off-guard when I called on someone I liked and admired for building his business the hard way.
I’ll explain. You know how political parties seemingly send out a memo to get everyone talking about the same thing? Well, the week before, I’d mocked the sudden hysteria over socialism. That rubbed him the wrong way.
“Tony, I will never buy another ad from you because you’re a socialist,” he said.
“Well, I’m a terrible socialist,” I responded, “because I’m trying to do capitalism! I’m trying to sell something!” I told him that I had always liked him and that wasn’t about commerce and that I intended to keep calling on him. I stuck to my promise and he eventually forgot about his.
But, if you really want a political argument, discuss sausage. Loyalties in this area are fierce. They’ll fight you in Long Lake over headcheese. I was born in Ashley, and Grandpa was a homer when it came to sausage.
Of course, Wishek is famous for its sausage, and it was made more famous by Stan Deile of Stan’s Supermarket, one of the last of the great small town promoters. Stan always seemed to be moving, but he always had time for a grin, a slice of wisdom, and a slap on the back. Hard to believe it’s been five years. I miss Stan.
There are still some some exceptional entrepreneurs and community builders in Wishek, but none as colorful as Stan, except perhaps, Mike Martell, a gravely old-school guy. He’s one of the reasons the annual Tri-County Fair keeps chugging along. Mostly, he just threatens people into action.
For 25 years, Mike has been giving me orders. A year ago, when I saw him at the fair, he told me that the Wishek Star would be doing a commemorative photo edition after the 125th celebration.
We’re on it, Mike. I may have saluted.
Maybe I’ll see you this weekend. I wouldn’t miss it. Wishek knows how to throw a party.
© Tony Bender, 2023
