File photos by Lee Epps
The morning train brought Judge Wells and the cornet band from Preston along with other citizens from that and nearby towns. The occasion was a Fourth of July celebration at Caledonia in 1887, the nation’s 111th birthday. A lot had been planned, but something unplanned would save the day.
Mother Nature furnished the first of five snafus or mishaps. According to the Caledonia Journal, “The day dawned … with the rumbling reports of heavy artillery, more commonly known in these parts as blacksmith’s anvils.” This columnist interprets that as a flowery description of thunder.
It was followed by an account of “dense clouds, from which, at intervals, copious showers of the long wanted rain descended. The rain though very beneficial to field, garden and pastures, was looked upon more or less as a disaster to light-colored lawn, lace-fabrics and the prospects of a celebration.”
By 10 a.m., the skies had begun to clear for the arrival of that morning train, but there was snafu number two. The formal exercises were to begin at 11:30 o’clock but the printed program (printed by the rival newspaper Argus) read instead, 1:30 o’clock. So, the beginning of the program was postponed two hours.
About 3,000 folks attended with “as many as could find room were seated on the “improvised seats,” consisting of planks and boards. “After a brief, but eloquent opening of the program by president-of-the day (Judge) Wells, one-half of the seats gave way and a certain amount of screaming was indulged in by those whose feet were caught between the planks.” Snafu number three, but who’s counting.
It was not stated if those planks and boards were reassembled, but the panic subsided and order was restored. Just as Judge Wells was introducing Rev. Tawney from Lanesboro, who was serving as chaplain, it was time for the fourth Fourth of July snafu. One side of the platform, which supported the officers, chaplain and choir, collapsed. More screaming ensued, but no injuries were reported.
When screaming and fear had subsided, the chaplain offered a prayer and a national song was performed by the choir just before snafu number five. Due to the aforementioned program printing problem, the exercises had been delayed for two hours, just enough time for Mother Nature to reload with another downpour (snafu five). As everyone was forced to seek shelter, the president-of-the-day announced the proceedings were postponed indefinitely.
Most of those assembled followed the Preston and Caledonia cornet bands that hurried toward the courthouse, where fortunately, all found refuge in the courthouse hall. Two of the celebration committee members, Messrs. Flynn and Roverud, thought the crowd, that was being entertained by the two brass bands, might also enjoy some impromptu remarks from Hon. James O’Brien, who after being persuaded to do so, entered the courthouse hallway.
The newspaper continued to elaborate, “The whole affair, heretofore a dire disaster was effectually dispelled as soon as the voice of the speaker was heard. The perplexities of life, the drought, nor even the chinch-bugs, seemed to have in any manner impaired his learning and eloquence. For nearly an hour he held the vast audience almost spell-bound in listening to his extemporaneous speech, an equal to which as acknowledged by all, was never heard, at this place at least, upon a similar occasion.”
Following the program-saving oration, the Caledonia and Preston cornet bands combined for another musical selection, and then most of the audience left for “the respective dancing halls where terpsichore (dancing) held high carnival until day-light the following morning.”
Thusly, it ended well. The newspaper account also reported the leftovers from “thousands of dollars worth of blasted paper tubes that originally were firecrackers, Roman candles, sky-rockets, etc., to say nothing about the thousands of soiled white dresses and other articles of wearing apparel of man or woman.”
There was no identification of the orator except for the title “Honorable,” which usually refers to high-ranking government officials. There was a James S. O’Brien, who was elected a state senator in 1890, three years after the celebration in Caledonia. In 1887, he would have been 39 years old, but he was from Stillwater, a distant train ride away from Caledonia.
The following year, 1888, The Journal announced another “Glorious Fourth,” with funding already available. “The program will embrace the customary and time honored exercises of such occasions, including various amusements, such as horse races, foot races, ball games, etc. The Caledonia Cornet Band will furnish music during the day and evening.”
The “rousing celebration” would conclude with a grand ball, featuring the music of Woolley’s “celebrated” string band. All were invited to the nation’s 112th birthday.
With an approximate population of 900 in 1887, a holiday crowd of 3,000 would have been impressive. Even moreso for Eitzen, which with a population less than 300, has often hosted as many as 10,000 to 12,000 in annual 21st century Independence Day celebrations.
The people of Eitzen and the adjacent area called Portland Prairie began celebrating the Fourth of July as early as 1865. As many as two or three hundred folks came either by team (of horses) or on foot, including some Civil War soldiers recently mustered out.
Later Independence Day celebrations were sponsored by the Eitzen Band and held in Bunge’s Woods north of town. The band played; there was a ball game. There was dancing in both the afternoon and evening. Celebrants could purchase lemonade, fruit and ice cream.
Since the bi-centennial celebration in 1976, the Eitzen Lions Club has hosted most of the annual Fourth of July crowds except for one year in the late 1980s. The state line festivities have continued well into a third century, including the 250th anniversary of independence in 2026.
The premier attractions are a raffle for large cash prizes, the large midday parade, tractor pulls, demolition derby, softball tournament and the after-darkness fireworks display. A wide variety of victuals and beverages have been available, beginning with a bountiful breakfast.
Sources: Caledonia Journal (July 6, 1887 and June 20, 1888) and Bits O’ the Past of the Eitzen Community (1976).
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