In August 2021, daughter Jill and I traveled to North Dakota – an eight-day getaway to Fargo, Jamestown, Minot, and Bismarck. Click HERE to read a short introduction to our wonderous trip.
This story is the fourth in a series about our journey through North Dakota.
This story is the fourth in a series about our journey through North Dakota.
In the vast windy plains where the buffalo used to roam,
some still do in Jamestown. The world’s largest buffalo…towers
over the plains. Still starry nights, majestic thunderstorms, and
flowing grasslands mark this wild, historic, and legendary place.
~ Jamestown’s Tourism
some still do in Jamestown. The world’s largest buffalo…towers
over the plains. Still starry nights, majestic thunderstorms, and
flowing grasslands mark this wild, historic, and legendary place.
~ Jamestown’s Tourism
Jamestown, North Dakota (Tuesday August 3, 2021) This morning, Jill and I followed the advice of American newspaper editor Horace Greely, who coined the phrase “Go West, young man” in 1850. We left Fargo at nine and drove 90 miles west on I-94 to reach Jamestown, where we spent the fourth day of our memorable adventure through North Dakota.
Jill was behind the wheel, as she was each day of our trip. She was a terrific pilot, so I did not mind being an always passenger and sometimes navigator – more opportunity for me to do the three things I loved best when I traveled: observe, research, and photograph sights and scenery.
There was little need to navigate this day, as it was a straight shot from Fargo to Jamestown. Instead, I sat back and took in an “uninterrupted expanse of nearly treeless prairie” as far as my eyes could see.
There was little need to navigate this day, as it was a straight shot from Fargo to Jamestown. Instead, I sat back and took in an “uninterrupted expanse of nearly treeless prairie” as far as my eyes could see.
“Boy, is it flat!” Jill said about 30 minutes into our drive.
“It looks that way, I know,” I replied, “but according to a web page I was perusing, we are on a gentle upward slope of land. In fact, we will gain about 500 feet in elevation as we make our way to Jamestown.”
Silence.
I could tell that Jill wasn’t impressed, so I read these juicy tidbits of information to her.
“This region of North Dakota is often described as a “stairway” between the lower Red River Valley to the east – north of where we were the past three days – and the higher Great Plains to the west. As with much of North America, these regions were shaped by ice during the Last Glacial Period – more than 11,000 years ago.”
Crickets.
Clearly, she was still not moved.
“It looks that way, I know,” I replied, “but according to a web page I was perusing, we are on a gentle upward slope of land. In fact, we will gain about 500 feet in elevation as we make our way to Jamestown.”
Silence.
I could tell that Jill wasn’t impressed, so I read these juicy tidbits of information to her.
“This region of North Dakota is often described as a “stairway” between the lower Red River Valley to the east – north of where we were the past three days – and the higher Great Plains to the west. As with much of North America, these regions were shaped by ice during the Last Glacial Period – more than 11,000 years ago.”
Crickets.
Clearly, she was still not moved.
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“And what we’re seeing is not just prairie,” I pressed on. “There is also cropland, with large fields of wheat, canola, and barley. In fact,” I read to Jill, “with nearly 90% of its land area in farms and ranches, North Dakota led the United States in production of these three crops.”
“So,” Jill (finally!) chimed in, “you might say that North Dakota is instrumental in feeding our nation.”
“Right you are!” I beamed as I settled back in my seat to enjoy the rest of our drive, satisfied that I had at last roused her interest in the land we were passing through.
We arrived in Jamestown midmorning. It was already in the mid-80s, on the way to an afternoon high of over 90 degrees. (Who, I wondered, thought it was a good idea to travel through North Dakota in August?!)
“So,” Jill (finally!) chimed in, “you might say that North Dakota is instrumental in feeding our nation.”
“Right you are!” I beamed as I settled back in my seat to enjoy the rest of our drive, satisfied that I had at last roused her interest in the land we were passing through.
We arrived in Jamestown midmorning. It was already in the mid-80s, on the way to an afternoon high of over 90 degrees. (Who, I wondered, thought it was a good idea to travel through North Dakota in August?!)
Just the Facts
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Jamestown, named after the city in Virginia, was founded in 1872 at the confluence of the James River and Pipestem Creek – a railroad town spawned by the westward march of the Northern Pacific Railway through the northern territories of the United States. From fewer than 100 inhabitants, Jamestown grew to become the ninth largest city (pop. 15,000) in North Dakota. More than half of its citizens were of German descent.
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Jill and I skipped breakfast, as we were still full from our feast last evening – platters of smoked chicken, ribs, and brisket, with a couple of sides and beers. Now, though, we were hungry. The state tourism board (Jill was on a press trip, so the tourism board assisted us with our itinerary) recommended The Depot Café, a train-themed hometown restaurant in downtown Jamestown that opened more than 40 years ago. The walls were lined with photos of trains, railroad crossing signs, and other railroad memorabilia, and the menu included the Brakeman, Train Wreck, and Train Master. Cute! I thought.
(For some inexplicable reason, I failed to take even one photo of the inside. Sheesh!)
After we placed our orders – the Brakeman for me – I struck up a conversation with a couple seated in the next booth. Ed and Evelyn, both in their 80s, were lifelong residents of Jamestown. They were friendly, small-town folk who shared interesting stories about Jamestown’s past, like the big snowstorm of 1966, which dumped more than two feet of snow over a four-day period. “The wind whipped the snow into huge drifts,” said Ed, “In places, the drifts were as tall as the electric power poles.” Yowser, I thought, that would be 30 to 40 feet!!
Ed asked what we planned to see in Jamestown. “Oh, the usual,” I replied. “The buffalo museum and monument, Frontier Village, Fort Seward, and a church, among other things.”
Ed sat up straight when I mentioned the church. “We’re members of the St. James Basilica,” Ed revealed. “Is this the church you’ll visit? If so, you won’t be disappointed! The stain glass windows are beautiful.”
“Yes,” I answered. “We should be there by midafternoon.” Evelyn and Ed seemed quite pleased to hear this.
After we placed our orders – the Brakeman for me – I struck up a conversation with a couple seated in the next booth. Ed and Evelyn, both in their 80s, were lifelong residents of Jamestown. They were friendly, small-town folk who shared interesting stories about Jamestown’s past, like the big snowstorm of 1966, which dumped more than two feet of snow over a four-day period. “The wind whipped the snow into huge drifts,” said Ed, “In places, the drifts were as tall as the electric power poles.” Yowser, I thought, that would be 30 to 40 feet!!
Ed asked what we planned to see in Jamestown. “Oh, the usual,” I replied. “The buffalo museum and monument, Frontier Village, Fort Seward, and a church, among other things.”
Ed sat up straight when I mentioned the church. “We’re members of the St. James Basilica,” Ed revealed. “Is this the church you’ll visit? If so, you won’t be disappointed! The stain glass windows are beautiful.”
“Yes,” I answered. “We should be there by midafternoon.” Evelyn and Ed seemed quite pleased to hear this.
The waitress brought their meals, and soon our breakfasts arrived as well. The portions were generous, and the food was tasty!
We soon bid goodbye to Evelyn and Ed, and headed to our first stop, as it was time to begin exploring several of the main attractions and landmarks, including two that made Jamestown famous.
We soon bid goodbye to Evelyn and Ed, and headed to our first stop, as it was time to begin exploring several of the main attractions and landmarks, including two that made Jamestown famous.
Putting the ‘Buffalo’ in Buffalo City
Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play,
Where never is heard a discouraging word
And the sky is not cloudy all day.
Where the deer and the antelope play,
Where never is heard a discouraging word
And the sky is not cloudy all day.
The lyrics to Home on the Range, a classic cowboy song that became the state song of Kansas, were written by Dr. Brewster M. Higley in the early 1880s. Well guess what? He got it wrong. There may have been plenty of deer and antelope in Kansas, but buffalo did not roam through Kansas or anywhere else in the West.
“Say what?!” you exclaim. “Of course, they did.”
Well…no they didn’t. Instead, those large, horned, oxlike animals that roamed the United States were bison, a spitting cousin, if you will, of the buffalo that was indigenous to South Asia (water buffalo) and Africa (Cape buffalo).
And the difference between the two was not just about geography, as three characteristics distinguished one from the other: bison have a hump at the shoulders and a beard (buffalo have neither) and their horns are much shorter.
(Oh, give me a home, where the bison roam… Doesn’t have the same ring, does it?!)
This misnomer – calling the American bison, one of the great symbols of the Old West, a buffalo – was attributed to “confused” explorers, many of whom had heard of the Asian and African buffalo long before they saw a North American bison.
With the passage of time, “buffalo was the more popular name in American culture,” and so it's been 'buffalo' ever since. Jamestown, home to the National Buffalo Museum and The World’s Largest Buffalo Monument, was soon nicknamed Buffalo City.
Our first stop, The National Buffalo Museum, was just a few miles to the south of The Depot Café. There, Jill and I “took a journey back to a time when the buffalo roamed.”
“Say what?!” you exclaim. “Of course, they did.”
Well…no they didn’t. Instead, those large, horned, oxlike animals that roamed the United States were bison, a spitting cousin, if you will, of the buffalo that was indigenous to South Asia (water buffalo) and Africa (Cape buffalo).
And the difference between the two was not just about geography, as three characteristics distinguished one from the other: bison have a hump at the shoulders and a beard (buffalo have neither) and their horns are much shorter.
(Oh, give me a home, where the bison roam… Doesn’t have the same ring, does it?!)
This misnomer – calling the American bison, one of the great symbols of the Old West, a buffalo – was attributed to “confused” explorers, many of whom had heard of the Asian and African buffalo long before they saw a North American bison.
With the passage of time, “buffalo was the more popular name in American culture,” and so it's been 'buffalo' ever since. Jamestown, home to the National Buffalo Museum and The World’s Largest Buffalo Monument, was soon nicknamed Buffalo City.
Our first stop, The National Buffalo Museum, was just a few miles to the south of The Depot Café. There, Jill and I “took a journey back to a time when the buffalo roamed.”
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Before we embarked on our self-guided tour of the museum, we gazed on a small herd of bison – one bull, a handful of cows, and several calves – in a pasture downhill from the museum. This gender distribution surprised me, as I thought only bulls had horns. But no, as I soon learned: Bulls and cows sport curved horns that can grow to two feet long.
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Contrary to the lyrics of Home on the Range, these bison did not roam…at least not at this moment. Perhaps it was the heat (91 degrees, but who’s counting!) or maybe it was just their nature, as these bison seemed content to mostly laze about.
Jill and I got a good laugh when we read the sign that stood between us and the herd of bison. Wow, I thought, that bull is fast! |
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The museum, which opened in 1993, told the story of the American bison through interpretive panels, artifacts, and artwork within several rooms of a one-story building.
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As we approached the entrance, we were greeted by a large bronze statue of a bull. It was big, befitting the animal’s actual size. As the largest land animal of North America, a bull measures up to 11 feet long from head to rump and six feet tall at the shoulders and can weigh more than 2,000 pounds. Despite its massive size, though, a bull can jump up to six feet from a standing position. Impressive!
Inside the museum, we wandered from one room to the next as we learned more about the American bison. |
“Bison antiquus,” which became extinct about 10,000 years ago, was a direct descendent of the modern bison. The skull on the left was bison antiquus, while the one on the right was Leo’s, the museum’s first live buffalo.
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Bison once numbered in the tens of millions. In the latter part of the 1800s, the herds were decimated – hunted to near extinction by buffalo hunters (like Buffalo Bill Cody), railroad employees, cavalrymen, and others as the United States expanded westward. By 1884, only a few hundred wild bison were left in the wild.
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William Hornaday (1854 – 1937), who was inducted into the Buffalo Hall of Fame in 2005, was “instrumental in restoring public buffalo herds.” So was Theodore Roosevelt, who was inducted in 1998 as a “champion of conservation” in recognition of his work while serving as the 26th President of the United States. Through the efforts of Hornaday, Roosevelt, and many others, the bison population has grown to more than 500,000 head.
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White buffalo, held sacred by Native Americans, were rare – one in ten million. As we neared the end of our tour, we spotted White Cloud, a white buffalo who was stuffed when she died in 2016.
Over the course of an hour, Jill and I learned more than we knew about the history and lore surrounding the iconic and majestic bison. |
We walked a short distance from the museum to Frontier Village, a re-creation of an early 20th century North Dakota prairie town that included original buildings from different parts of the state, each furnished with period antiques and artifacts.
It all started with a donation in 1965 – a Northwest Pacific train depot built in 1880. Next came a post office (built in 1894) and jail, and then a one-room schoolhouse (1883). Other buildings soon followed, including a saloon, barber shop, sheriff’s office, and trading post.
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We strolled along the boardwalk that fronted the row of buildings on our right. I stepped inside the barber shop, furnished with an old-fashioned barber chair, free-standing wood stove and porcelain sink, and sporting a lettered sign on the wall with prices for each of the tonsorial services offered: 35 cents for a haircut, 25 cents for a shave, and just 50 cents for both. Ohhhh…the good old days!
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Further along the boardwalk, we peeked inside the blacksmith shop (a reproduction built on site in 2009), which housed a grindstone, anvil, yokes, horse-drawn plow, saws, and other prairie farm tools. Nothing modern here.
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There was a Wells Fargo stagecoach, pulled by a couple of horses, just past the blacksmith shop. Okay, okay – neither the stagecoach nor horses were real. Still, I hollered “Ride ‘em cowgirl!” as Jill whooped it up.
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Jill and I backtracked to Frontier Village, where we wandered the other boardwalk. As we made our way to the car, we passed The Blue Blazes Saloon (another reproduction built on site), a dentist building, and post office (originally a small house built in 1894). And just outside the village was a white clapboard-sided church with a tall steeple. Pioneer Church was originally a school built in 1881 in Eldridge, North Dakota.
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We followed a paved walkway to reach “Dakota Thunder,” the world’s largest bison. Here’s the tale-of-the-tape, as they say in the boxing world: 26 feet tall, 46 feet long, and 54 tons of stucco and cement over a steel beam frame with wire mesh. Jill and I looked Lilliputian compared to this beast! Dakota Thunder, completed in 1959, was designed and sculpted by Elmer Petersen, an art professor at Jamestown College.
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I knew that the museum and Frontier Village weren’t high on Jill’s list of things to see this day, so I wasn’t surprised when she said, “Well, dad, have you had your fill of bison? I know I have!” I had great fun, to be sure, but Jill did not have to tell me twice that it was time to move on.
It was still hot – the temperature hadn’t cooled by even a degree. The car’s AC was a great relief, but I knew that Jill and I needed more than a blast of cold air to continue our tour of Jamestown.
“Jill,” I began, “I could use a short break. Let’s go to the hotel so that we can check in and put our feet up for a while.”
It was still hot – the temperature hadn’t cooled by even a degree. The car’s AC was a great relief, but I knew that Jill and I needed more than a blast of cold air to continue our tour of Jamestown.
“Jill,” I began, “I could use a short break. Let’s go to the hotel so that we can check in and put our feet up for a while.”
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“You read my mind,” she said with an appreciative smile, and off she drove, a couple miles to the east, to the Holiday Inn Express. All I can say is, never underestimate the rejuvenating power of a freshly washed face and 30-minute power nap! An hour after we arrived, we were ready to go.
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North Dakota’s Mother Church
No place we visited was too far from the last – once we reached Jamestown this morning, everything we saw and did was less than 30 miles total in distance. Our next stop, St. James Basilica, was just a mile and half from the hotel.
Many years ago, Jill and I were struck by wanderlust, an almost insatiable itch to travel. And whether we traveled together, alone, or with others, we loved to visit churches. So, it did not come as a surprise to Jill when, as I researched the cities we would visit on this trip, I suggested we stop and see St. James. She was quick to say “yes.”
The first basilica we saw together was in Knock, Ireland. It was a minor basilica – the same designation given this church. As we learned then, a basilica was a ceremonial designation granted by the Pope to a church building. Present day, there are four major basilicas in the world – all in Rome – and more than 1,800 minor basilicas worldwide.
Many years ago, Jill and I were struck by wanderlust, an almost insatiable itch to travel. And whether we traveled together, alone, or with others, we loved to visit churches. So, it did not come as a surprise to Jill when, as I researched the cities we would visit on this trip, I suggested we stop and see St. James. She was quick to say “yes.”
The first basilica we saw together was in Knock, Ireland. It was a minor basilica – the same designation given this church. As we learned then, a basilica was a ceremonial designation granted by the Pope to a church building. Present day, there are four major basilicas in the world – all in Rome – and more than 1,800 minor basilicas worldwide.
From a brochure I picked up inside the church, we learned that construction of St. James Church, built on the site of an earlier Catholic church, began in 1910. It was consecrated four years later, in November 1914. St. James was enlarged and updated in the mid-50s. In 1988, Pope John Paul II elevated St. James Church to the rank of a minor basilica – at that time, the 24th church in the United States to receive this designation – because of “its antiquity, dignity, and historical significance.”
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We parked on the street alongside St. James – no metered parking in this small town, so we were free to spend as much time as we liked.
I crossed 1st Avenue, which fronts the church, to take this photo. The twin towers, 125 feet tall, stood as sentries guarding the main entrance to St. James, each tower topped by a spire capped with a gold-leaf cross. The façade of this American gothic-style church was magnificent! As Jill and I climbed the stone staircase, we stopped to admire the stained-glass window above the front door. Known as the “Windows of Faith,” the panels were a record of historic occasions for the Basilica. |
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The interior was spacious – room for more than 600 congregants on the main floor and another 100 in the choir loft. Stately white pillars on both sides of the nave supported a series of white and red arches – a beautiful contrast to the deep-blue ceiling. A large chandelier hung over the raised pulpit, and stained-glass panels adorned the walls. A plaque told us that “all 42 stained-glass windows, originally purchased in 1918, were re-leaded and restored to their original state” about 10 years ago. The window in the middle photo below is titled The Nativity, with “multiple orders of angels shown along with the shepherds.”
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I am sure that your experience with churches mirrored ours – each one we visited was different from the last, and from the next. And so, it was with St. James Basilica. It was not as ornate as some we’ve seen, yet more so than others. Still, all churches have one thing in common: as houses of worship, they are peaceful and reverent. We had a lovely experience!
A Step Back in Time
Nearly 160 years ago, in 1864, Congress granted the rights to build a transcontinental railroad, from Minnesota to Washington, to the Northern Pacific Railway Company. It took 13 years to complete, and when finished in 1883, the main line connected the Great Lakes with Puget Sound.
Where the towns are is where the railroads went. Up until the 1960s,
if you were a town in North Dakota, you were on the railroad.
if you were a town in North Dakota, you were on the railroad.
~ Frank Vyzralek, retired archivist for the State Historical Society of North Dakota
Jamestown, most definitely, was a railroad town, established in 1872 when the Northern Pacific pushed west from Fargo. That same year, the U.S. Army established Camp Sykes, later renamed Fort Seward, to protect railroad surveyors and workers from attacks by Sioux Indians. Fort Seward had a short life: It was dismantled in 1877 and the lumber shipped 81 miles north to Fort Totten.
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There was nothing of Fort Seward to see – yet much to Jill’s chagrin, I was drawn to see the site, and with just a bit of cajoling, Jill (the good sport she was) and I made the mile and a half drive northwest from St. James.
I promised Jill I wouldn't be long, so she stayed in the air-conditioned comfort of our rental car while I walked the grounds to see what I could see. Only a handful of signs, like this one, marked where buildings once stood. |
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What I didn’t know beforehand but discovered as I made my way towards a large flag of the United States – the largest flag flown in North Dakota – was that Fort Seward was home to the Stutsman County All Veterans Memorial Wall.
The center panel was engraved:
This memorial is dedicated in memory and in honor of the brave men
and women of Stutsman County who gave their lives in service to our country.
and women of Stutsman County who gave their lives in service to our country.
And on the panel furthest to the right were the names of the North Dakota Congressional Medal of Honor Recipients from the Spanish-American War, Philippine Insurrection, World War I, World War II, Korean War, and Vietnam War.
The All Veterans Memorial Wall was a beautiful tribute, and an honor for me to bear witness to.
I must digress for a moment, because there was something else I saw as I strolled the grounds.
The All Veterans Memorial Wall was a beautiful tribute, and an honor for me to bear witness to.
I must digress for a moment, because there was something else I saw as I strolled the grounds.
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When Jill received the initial itinerary of our trip to North Dakota, we were somewhat excited that our day in Jamestown included a one-night glamping (short for ‘glamor camping’) experience – “somewhat” because neither Jill nor I were campers, yet we were always opened to trying new things. Fortunately, we learned from the glamping website that to “experience Fort Seward as the men did in 1875…in a Sibley tent” meant no electricity, no plumbing, and a couple of cots to sleep on. Does this look glamorous to you? Needless to say, we declined this “experience,” and instead asked the tourism board to book a room for us at the Holiday Inn Express!
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Dinner is Served
In Greetings from Fargo, I shared this observation: The city respected its past by renovating its buildings rather than demolishing them. In other words, much of what was old was now new – remodeled and repurposed. The same was true of Jamestown, and one example was Jonny B’s Brickhouse, a pizzeria and more located in a downtown building that dated to the 1890s.
Jonny B’s was named for its owner, Jon Beyer, who opened his namesake restaurant in 2015. “Beyer enjoys old items so taking a building built in the 1890s and remodeling it added a unique look,” reported the Jamestown Sun. That unique look included a garage door in front – closed when we ventured in, a testament, I believed, to how hot this day was.
A bar ran the length of the restaurant along one side, with plenty of tables – low- and high-top – on the other. I loved the wall of exposed brickwork behind the bar and the burnt orange ductwork that hugged the ceiling.
Jonny B’s boasted the largest local and regional beer collection in Jamestown – 24 brewskis that included Pear of the North, Space Probe Orange, Lonely Blond, and Cheugy Chuggers. Jill ordered Morning Squeeze, a hazy IPA. Me? I preferred lagers, so I went with Minnesota Gold.
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There were almost as many wood-fired pizzas on the menu as there were beers, and they all sounded delicious. Two pizzas stood out, though: Hunter Gatherer (a combination of three meats and three veggies) and Goat Cheese & Spinach (need I say more?).
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I bet you think that this was a lot of pizza for two people. Well, how about for three? Emma, a friend of son David who lived in Jamestown, joined us for dinner!
The pizzas tasted great, the beers were refreshing…and Jill and I made a new friend, who we got to know through a couple of hours of delightful conversation. |
An Oasis in the Prairie
The sandy shore eases gently into the water, its depth increasing slowly.
~ Discover Jamestown
Who would have thought that we would find a sandy beach in the middle of North Dakota. But we did!
It was early evening when we said goodbye to Emma and headed north on US-52…a whopping 9 miles, which was easily the longest distance we traveled between waypoints in Jamestown.
It was early evening when we said goodbye to Emma and headed north on US-52…a whopping 9 miles, which was easily the longest distance we traveled between waypoints in Jamestown.
The Jamestown Reservoir was created in the 1950s when a rolled-earth dam was constructed across the James River. The primary purpose of the dam was to control flooding, but a secondary purpose was recreation – swimming, boating, and fishing. With 45 miles of shoreline, Jamestown Reservoir is also “one of the greatest migratory waterfowl flyways in North Dakota.”
We did not see any swimmers, boaters, or fisherman this evening – it was too late for such activities. But we did spy the beach, which you can see at water’s edge in this photo.
We did not see any swimmers, boaters, or fisherman this evening – it was too late for such activities. But we did spy the beach, which you can see at water’s edge in this photo.
“Dad,” began Jill. “You know how I followed you earlier today – around Frontier Village and to Fort Seward? Well,” she continued in her best ‘daddy’s little girl’ voice that she knows I can’t resist, “how about you follow me to the beach?”
Jill led, I followed.
Jill led, I followed.
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The temperature had cooled to the upper 70s, which made for a pleasant evening to stroll along the beach. The sand was not soft like the washed, fine grade sand on an ocean beach, but it was inviting, and the scene was picture-perfect when the setting sun painted the sky shades of orange and purple. This was the perfect ending to our day of discovery in Buffalo City.
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Tomorrow we will drive to Minot (rhymes with ‘why not’), the next stop on our journey through North Dakota. I look forward to sharing our experiences and memories with you!