By Lee Epps
If a Minnesota law officer entered on official business, the suspect or lawbreaker could quickly walk across the room and be safe from arrest. With the state line running through the saloon, the other side of the room was in Iowa. It worked in reverse if one wanted to avoid an Iowa lawman. For many years, the state line was marked by a hitching post (iron rings screwed into a gnarled tree stump), which stood in front of the store/saloon. No longer a business, the building still stands in Bee, Minn.
The state line village lies along Waterloo Creek where it flows below tree-covered bluffs through a narrow valley about seven miles southeast of Spring Grove where Wilmington Township meets Allamakee County, Iowa. It was an early, thriving pioneer settlement. But a 1967 newspaper lists a population of eight, about what remains in 2020.
From Spring Grove or Caledonia, either rural gravel road drops precipitously down into the townsite. From Dorchester, Iowa, the roadway passes fishing spots while following the stream through a wider portion of the exceptionally scenic valley.
It is one of several Houston County hamlets with a curious name, the origin of which is explained by conjecture. It was first named Bergen by Norwegians. The name Bee might have come from a twist of translation of the Norwegian word “by,” which means town or hamlet. Another possibility is being the namesake of Ole Bye, believed to have been the first Norwegian settler.
The history involves not only the odd state-line-straddling location of the tavern but also prize-winning butter, German beer brewing, Norwegian milling expertise and even murder.
Back to doing business in one room located in two states, Iowa had prohibited liquor sales as early as 1855. But it had not been a problem in Bee until the law became stricter in 1885. So the booze was moved a few feet into Minnesota. The cigarettes were sold in Minnesota because the cigarette tax was higher in Iowa.
Iowa adopted a sales tax considerably earlier than did the Gopher State. To keep the prices consistent, store owner Bennie Magnusson paid the tax out of his own pocket. Magnusson paid his property tax in Iowa, where he also obtained his car license for a vehicle he usually parked in Minnesota.
The village of Bee, in earlier centuries, had more than one store and blacksmith plus a three-story grist mill, post office, brewery and a widely-known creamery. In the 1890s, local farmers organized one of the area’s first cooperatives. The Honey Bee Creamery employed butter maker Magnus Magnusson, who received a national butter quality award three times. He had been born near Bergen, Norway before immigrating at age 17.
Photo courtesy of the Houston County Historical Society
Butter from Bee was usually packed in 64-pound wooden tubs, but special 10-pound Honey Bee Butter Rolls were sold to a company in Philadelphia. The Honey Bee Creamery was in business for about a half-century – until the 1940s when many smaller creameries were absorbed into larger operations.
Another prominent craftsman was miller Hans Presatter, who was widely sought for his highly-skilled artistry in refinishing millstones. However, the Norwegian native lost a hand and part of an arm in a mill accident. The mill was a landmark in Bee until it was razed in the 1930s. The post office had been discontinued in 1905.
The first settlers were five Irishmen in 1852, six years after Iowa statehood and six years before Minnesota became a state. They soon moved on while Norwegians became the most numerous pioneer settlers in 1854-55. Two of the Irish immigrants sold to Norwegian Ole Bye.
But boom times were ignited by a native of Westphalia (northwestern Germany) named Joseph Schwarzhoff, who arrived in Dorchester with his parents in 1853 and opened a brewery in Bee in 1862. He operated the aforementioned state-line store/saloon, was an early postmaster and also owned the mill that employed Presatter. An indication of the population boom is the tale that Schwarzhoff was unable to supply enough beer during Fourth of July and other celebrations.
There is not enough space this week to cover the murder. But there will be next week.
Most of this information comes from the writings of local historian Percival Narveson.