Blizzard of 1923 recalled

By Tom Hintgen (Contact) | The Daily Journal

Published 11:20 a.m., February 8, 2010

Lennie Bothun, 96, of Ashby, was only nine years old in February 1923. He still remembers the devastating blizzard that took place 87 years ago. Historians call this the 1923 black dust blizzard that blew dirty snow into west central Minnesota.

“We had two miles to walk to country school, and two miles back home again while facing the cold, cold northwest wind in the winter,” said Bothun. “My grandparents from Norway homesteaded a farm in 1868, located about two miles southeast from a spot which is now the town of Dalton.”

Bothun, to his credit, wrote the account several years ago while his recollections were still good. He shared his account last week in a letter to the Daily Journal newsroom.

“My parents eventually bought the farm from my grandparents,” he said. “In 1879 the railroad crossed the farm here, and they built high wooden snow fences on both sides. Later came telephone poles on one side and telegraph poles on the other side. There were no roads along the railroad at that time.”

One school day, in 1923, Bothun took part in what would become a life-long memory.

“It was snowing hard,” he said. “My dad, me, and my oldest brother had started out with horses and sled. Soon it was a tremendous blizzard. All of a sudden, the horses stopped completely. My dad got off to see why they had stopped, and found that there was one horse on either side of the telegraph pole.”

The Bothuns couldn't see the pole from the sled, even though that wasn’t more than 10 to 12 feet away. His father and brother backed the horses out and called the school, saying the boys would have to stay overnight in school.

“However, a neighbor who lived about 1-1/2 miles in a different direction, made it over to us and invited us to go along to his place,” said Bothun. “I was nine years old. Along the way, the neighbor’s horses got stuck in a deep snowdrift. Our neighbor shoveled them out, took the horses home, and brought another team back to us.”

The blizzard was so severe that the neighbor couldn't see anything ahead of the horses.

“He was afraid he wouldn't find our sled, but all of a sudden the horses stopped right in front of us,” said Bothun. “This showed us that the good Lord was taking care of us.”

When the Bothuns arrived at the neighbor’s house, they were escorted in.

“It seemed to me that we were instantly in another world,” said Bothun. “This farmer had his own electric lights. The farmers in our area didn't get electricity until 1943-44. At our neighbor’s place, there were electric lights in every room. No need for kerosene lamps and matches. Just pull a string and a light came on.”

Bothun also was in seventh Heaven when he was able to use hot and cold water by just turning a knob. In the living room stood a beautiful large cabinet with a small box in it. They called it a radio.

“Just turn a knob and hear people talk and sing,” he recalled. “In another room was a large piece of furniture which had keys, and a bench to sit on. Just press the keys and low and behold there was music. They called it an organ.”

Upstairs there was a room called the wash room. It had a metal tub plus cold and hot water and toilet.

“We used to run outside to the biffy in the middle of the night at home,” said Bothun.

While at the neighbor’s house, during the 1923 snowstorm, it wasn’t easy for Bothun to go to sleep — thinking about all the things he had seen. On the third day the storm subsided, and the farmer took Bothun and his brother to the school house.

“Later, when I got back home, I fully realized that — be it ever so humble — there is no place like home,” said Bothun. “Praise the Lord.”

Sad to say, emphasized Bothun, were many people who lost their lives in what he described as “that terrible blizzard in 1923.”

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