Лилиан Браун - Moose County Legends

The Legend of

the Rubbish Heap

A Chronicle of Two Pioneer Families How a miraculous bit of good luck started a three-generation course of success and disappointment, love and hatred, disaster and . . .

all’s well that ends well. It happened in Moose County, and details are corroborated by interviews with oldtimers and by diaries, letters, and other documents in the Pickax historical collection.

—JMQ

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In the mid–nineteenth century, when Moose County was beginning to boom, it was a Gold Rush without the gold. There were veins of coal to be mined, forests to be lumbered, granite to be quarried, land to be developed, fortunes to be made. It would become the richest county in the state.

In 1859 two penniless youths from Germany arrived by schooner, by way of Canada. On setting foot on the foreign soil, they looked this way and that to get their bearings, and both saw it at the same time! A piece of paper money in a rubbish heap! Without stopping to inquire its value, they tore it in half to signify their partnership. It would be share and share alike from then on.

Their names were Otto Wilhelm Limburger and Karl Gustav Klingenschoen. They were fifteen years old.

Labor was needed. They hired on as carpenters, worked 쑽쑽쑽

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Lilian Jackson Braun long hours, obeyed orders, learned everything they could, used their wits, watched for opportunities, took chances, borrowed wisely, cheated a little, and finally launched a venture of their own.

By the time they were in their thirties, Otto and Karl dominated the food and shelter industry. They owned all the rooming houses, eating places, and travelers’ inns along the shoreline. Only then did they marry: Otto, a God-fearing woman named Gretchen; Karl, a fun-loving woman nicknamed Minnie. At the double wedding the friends pledged to name their children after each other. They hoped for boys, but girls could be named Karla and Wil-helmina. Thus the two families became even more en-twined . . . until rumors about Karl’s wife started drifting back from the waterfront. When Karl denied the slander, Otto trusted him.

But there was more! One day Karl approached his partner with an idea for expanding their empire. They would add saloons, dance halls, and female entertainment of various kinds. Otto was outraged! The two men argued. They traded insults. They even traded a few blows and, with noses bleeding, tore up the fragments of currency that had been in their pockets since the miracle of the rubbish heap.

Karl proceeded on his own and did extremely well, financially. To prove it, he built a fine fieldstone mansion in Pickax City, across from the courthouse. In retaliation Otto imported masons and woodworkers from Europe to build a brick palace in the town of Black Creek. How the commu-

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Short & Tall Tales nity reacted to the two architectural wonders should be mentioned. The elite of the county vied for invitations to sip tea and view Otto’s black walnut woodwork; Karl and Minnie sent out invitations to a party and no one came.

When it was known that the brick mansion would be the scene of a wedding, the best families could talk of nothing else. The bride was Otto’s only daughter; he had arranged for her to marry a suitable young man from the Goodwinter family; the date was set. Who would be invited? Was it true that Otto had taken his daughter before a magistrate and legally changed her name from Karla to Elsa? It was true. Elsa’s dower chest was filled with fine household linens and intimate wedding finery. Gifts were being delivered in the best carriages in town. Seamstresses were working overtime on costumes for the wedding guests.

Gowns for the bridal party were being shipped from Germany. Suppose there was a storm at sea! Suppose they did not arrive in time!

Then, on the very eve of the nuptials, Otto’s daughter eloped with the youngest son of Karl Klingenschoen!

Shock, embarrassment, sheer horror, and the madden-ing suspicion that Karl and Minnie had promoted the de-fection—all these emotions combined to affect Otto’s mind.

As for the young couple, there were rumors that they had gone to San Francisco. When the news came, a few years later, that the young couple had lost their lives in the earthquake, Elsa’s father had no idea who they were.

Karl and Minnie lived out their lives in the most splen-

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Lilian Jackson Braun did house in Pickax, ignored by everyone of social standing.

Karl never knew that his immense fortune was wiped out, following the financial crash of 1929.

Toward the end of the century, Otto’s sole descendant was an eccentric who sat on the porch of the brick palace and threw stones at dogs.

Karl’s sole descendant was Fanny Klingenschoen, who recovered her grandfather’s wealth ten times over.

Eventually the saga of the two families took a curious twist. The Klingenschoen Foundation has purchased two properties from the Limburger estate: the mansion in Black Creek and the hotel in Pickax. The former has become the Nutcracker Inn; the latter is now the Mackintosh Inn. The

“legend of the rubbish heap” has come full circle.

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쒀

2.

Secret of the

Blacksmith’s Wife

Revealed to Her Grandson

on Her Deathbed

Eddington Smith never revealed his grandmother’s secret until he, too, was at death’s door. Then he shared it with the local historian, and—as they say—one thing led to another.

The secret has outlived the statute of limitations.

—JMQ

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When Pickax was named the county seat—because of its central location—it was only a hamlet, but a building boom started almost overnight. The blacksmith, who made nails as well as horseshoes, could hardly keep up with the demand as ambitious settlers built dwellings and shops. Then one day he was kicked in the head by a horse and died on the spot. There was panic in Pickax! No blacksmith! No nails!

The next day, by a strange coincidence, a stranger walked into town—a big brawny man carrying a stick over his shoulder with a bundle tied on the end. He wore his hair longer than was the custom in Moose County, and at first he was viewed with suspicion. When he said he was a blacksmith, however, the townfolk changed their attitude.

Could he make nails?

Yes, he could make nails.

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Lilian Jackson Braun What was his name?

John.

John what?

He said, “Just John. That’s all the name you need to make nails.”