Condor group photo shot before a gig at Press Bar in St Cloud.
One of Duluth’s more notable bands of the mid-to-late 1970s was an act called Condor. There was very little information online about the band in 2021, when this post originated as a crowdsourcing quest to change that. Photos have since been added, along with new information at the bottom of the post.
This postcard was mailed from Superior on Sept. 27, 1906 — 115 years ago today — by W. F. McMannis. The recipient was Miss Mabelle Reed of West Dover, Ohio. The image depicts the Duluth Incline Railway, showing the view from the top of the Duluth harbor and waterfront district, and of course Minnesota Point.
The Duluth Missabe and Iron Range Railway Dock #5 has not been used since 1985. The Duluth Preservation Alliance has listed it as an endangered property. (Photos by Mark Nicklawske)
A slowly disappearing neighborhood rich in Native American history, a large building once home to a radical labor college and an iconic, unused iron ore dock are included in a list of places historians fear may disappear from the Duluth landscape.
The Duluth Preservation Alliance released a Top 10 Most Endangered Places list during an event outside the soon-to-be demolished Esmond Building in Lincoln Park Saturday, Sept. 25. The list, regularly compiled by the group, is designed to raise preservation awareness and encourage the reuse of historic properties.
And the award for best Duluth photo of 1911 pretty much has to go to this postcard image of three gals on Point of Rocks looking out over the city. And someone was smart enought to write their names on the back. Nora, Emma and Inga Pettersen posed for this shot 110 years ago.
It’s a week or so since 9/11, and the special issues of magazines unsold in the checkout lane are being reported unsold, stripped of their covers and reported destroyed. The television guide on my Roku is no longer choked with 9/11 documentaries and “looks back.” In fact, I can barely tell it happened.
I remember how difficult it was to return to normal after 9/11 — how many days it took before the late night shows could broadcast, for example. It feels like we snapped back awful fast this time.
Well, I didn’t. Here’s my last post on 9/11 for Perfect Duluth Day, looking at some writings, some poetry, after 9/11, talking about what life is like after.
This postcard of the Central Motel was mailed Sept. 20, 1956 — 65 years ago today. The address, 24 N. Central Ave., is now greenspace across Main Street from Irving Park. The land is controlled by the idled Duluth paper mill, which was sold by Verso Corporation in May to ST Paper.
This postcard was mailed Sept. 18, 1911 — 110 years ago today. For some reason it took more than a month to reach it’s destination. It bears a second postmark of Oct. 26; indicating it took 38 days to travel about 250 miles from Duluth to Miss Martha Moe in Wood Lake.
This postcard of the College of St. Scholastica was mailed Sept. 13, 1931 — 90 years ago today. Robert Strauss of Snyder, N.Y. was the recipient. The message on the back is from his parents, who write: “Hello Boy. On our way to Seattle.”
It’s Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, 10:30 a.m. I’m standing in my kitchen munching on an apple. Suddenly, a huge man who looks like the professional wrestler Razor Ramon comes thundering through the front door announcing that he is an employee of the Water and Gas Department and needs to read the meter.
Without asking for identification or taking any security precautions whatsoever, I show him to the basement stairway and resume chomping on my apple. Soon, my basement housemates greet Razor Ramon and he starts talking to them about how the country is at war.
“We’re at war, dude,” I hear him say. “Haven’t you turned on the TV or the radio yet?”
I turn on the television in the living room and see a huge cloud of smoke and debris where the World Trade Center once stood. The news anchor explains that two hijacked passenger jets smashed into the towers, causing them to collapse.
I’m still talking around 9/11 as I write this series of posts. I am worried that any effort I put into converting my experience into words will diminish that experience.
Perhaps that’s what I see most of all in the Congressional records one year after 9/11. Below are bits and pieces from a joint session of Congress, held in New York, on the one-year anniversary of 9/11, where most everyone, except maybe Paul Wellstone, talks around 9/11.
The written message on the back of this century-old postcard is dated Sept. 9 by “Aunt Martha,” but has no postmark or other indication of the year. The card shows First Methodist Episcopal Church on the corner of Third Avenue West and Third Street in Duluth. The building stood there from 1893 to 1969.
Although this brochure for Denfeld High School has a 1991 copyright, the photos appear to be circa 1987-88. Alert eyeballs will spot current Denfeld principal Tom Tusken and Duluth School Board member Alanna Oswald as students in the photos.
After 9/11, I taught a class in the World Trade Center collapse, looking at it as a trauma but also as a failure of engineering. Mostly, this reflects my mental state in the years after the event:
How did this happen?
If it seemed a miracle to me that there could be two towers, reaching 110 stories into the sky, it seemed even more unthinkable that they fell down.
In retrospect, the weeks before 9/11 are almost better defined by the things I didn’t know. I didn’t know, really, how much people in the Middle East disliked, hated America and Americans, sure. And then there are smaller knowledges that I didn’t know — details of events and of governmental decisions that would become clear after the fact.
