You don’t have to drive far to see ghost towns on the Northern Plains. Sometimes I idly wonder why one town died and why its neighbor didn’t.
Some of had to do with the railroad. In the beginning, towns needed to be spaced along the route every 10 miles because steam engines needed to be serviced at those intervals. Being along a railroad could make or break you. Or both. Railroad towns were built and when the trains didn’t stop there anymore many of them crumbled.
Ashley, ND actually moved, lock, stock and barrel, three miles from Hoskins, where a nice recreational lake graces the landscape, to a location where the railroad was to be located. They moved the town! That took resolve and vision.
Of course, the railroad lines don’t service all these communities anymore, but with a solid foothold, some geographical luck, and selfless ingenuity by community builders who, in those days, were as patriotic about their fair cities as many are about Uncle Sam, many communities thrived. After 135 years, Ashley’s still standing.
Until a few years ago, the last vestiges of Hoskins, Reinie’s Barber Shop, had a place on Main Street but time finally did it in. You won’t find Reinie putting with his buddies out on that splendid Ashley golf course, anymore, either. Reinie was one of those beloved community boosters. Times change. The faces change. Sometimes the community spirit and vision endures, sometimes it doesn’t.
This is all at the forefront of my mind because of a decision facing the Ashley School District patrons in a week. There’s a $4.85 million issue on the ballot to renovate a school that was constructed when Eisenhower was president and the Interstate system he envisioned sprang into existence, transforming the country and its economy.
The school renovation involves a good chunk of money and it’ll mean taxes on a $100,000 home will go up about $175. An acre of land will be taxed about $1.60 more a year. On a fixed retirement income, in inflationary times, that can mean something. So, just as it was every step along the way, people are being asked to build something for their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. To sacrifice. To invest in a future. To have the same vision community builders had nearly 65 years ago.
I’ve been back here for 25 years. I was born in Ashley. When Eisenhower was president. We invested here, purchasing the Ashley Tribune and Wishek Star because we saw a future and a present—wonderful communities in which to raise our kids, a school where they could have elbow room and individual instruction when needed.
We understood geography, too. The communities were far enough away from big cities—about 100 miles in every direction, which meant these towns necessarily had an independent streak. We arrived on the eve of Wishek’s Centennial. Now, the 125th is just around the corner. We’ve seen businesses spring up, expand and flourish. And yeah, a few didn’t make it.
I witnessed first-hand the successes and attrition along the railroad line from Aberdeen, SD to Edgeley, ND, a stretch two small crews with muscle and cherry-pickers covered one summer in the late 70’s, retrieving, grading, and bundling railroad ties. I remember the first half-day we tested out the system and the specially-built wagons that had been welded for the job. We almost died. My crew consisted of a marshmallowy lead guitar player, a 50-ish chain smoker, me, and a Baptist minister.
Despite that first miserable day, we got into the best shape of our lives. Railroad tie by railroad tie, we walked the line, saw veritable ghost towns and bustling small towns.
Frederick, where I spent my formative years, still has an expansive consolidated school thanks to a vision that was falling into place in the late 60’s. The business community would never grow beyond the necessities because of geography—26 miles from Aberdeen, 12 miles from Ellendale—but that gleaming school remains the town’s heartbeat.
I published the Adams County Record in Hettinger, ND for about eight years, and soon recognized the genius of the doctors who started the regional hospital there. A small army of medical professionals located among desolate buttes because they imagined an unlikely future we now see. They willed it. Other communities around it shrank; Hettinger’s still standing. Not without losses and change, but where would the community be without that medical center?
We’re forever evolving, being tested.
Crossroads. Decisions. Will. Faith. Endurance. Perseverance. Vision. Sacrifice. Those are the things that separate the standing and the fallen.
© Tony Bender, 2023
