Foreign Lands: Where's The Schnitzel?

We're back in St. Paul, where I found a gem of a place.  Not surprisingly, it's near the railroad tracks, but it's also right on 7th St, but over on the east side.  I'm not confident that we're going to find a lot in the history category, but it's a pretty cool building with great signs.

Today, it seemed to be low-end housing, although when I stopped there was a fancy SUV parked out front, which in my fantasy meant people planning to renovate.  We'll have to see.

Anyway, as you can see, Charles E. Eschbach seemed to have a meat market here.  It seems the Charles was born in 1890 and lived only until 1959.  His son was also named Charles and is buried in Elmhurst Cemetery in St. Paul.  It seems he might have furnished some meat to a family quarantined due to small pox in 1900, but that's about all I have.

So let's look for the flour.  It seems the Dwight Flour was from Moorhead (speaking of traitorous foreign lands), so that probably explains why the place isn't still operating.  Although this ad suggest maybe they were in Minneapolis too. So confusing.  But one thing is clear. It was made from only Red River wheat.

Someone already got better pictures than mine (better light and more capable photographer, probably) and posted them to Flickr.  It sees that some of the neighbors are gone.

Foreign Lands: Local Product

I thought this blog needed a little gritty reality.  It's been all sweetness and light around here, with the silly jokes and the failing to be funny and all that.  So, let's bring it down folks.  Barbed wire.  Pointy.  Sharp.  Will tear your jeans if they get caught as you try to climb over.  Everyone please take a moment of silence to consider all the tragedies of the world to which this scourge has contributed.

Now that you've shed a tear over thoughts of being a sheep fenced on the wrong side of a field of sweet, succulent grass, we can move on.

Okay, so this one's not all that easy to read, but I'll help you out.  It says Gold Medal Flour.  I'm sure you've read all my posts, so you're probably saying to yourself, "hey! I know all about that product."  Congratulations!  You're so smart.

But this sign has traveled from its namesake's home along the banks of the Mississippi.  I was back in DC last week and found this one along 14th Street, between T and Wallach.  I've been by there many times but never noticed it before. That barbed wire is there because of an ongoing demolition project, so perhaps it was covered up until recently, but I don't think so.  Regardless, I have a feeling this sign will not be visible for long, as where there is demolition in downtown DC there is soon to be new condos.  If I'm right, I will be happy to have documented a bit of history.

Even better, that sign is on the side of the relatively newish Taylor Gourmet on 14th.  Now that's a good hoagie.

Speaking of landmarks, just for fun, here's another DC institution:

Poppin' Fresh!

Completing our survey of Falls-adjacent flour mills, it's time for Pillsbury. Perhaps the most famous of the local milling names (thanks to the blandness of General Mills), the "A" mill has been in the news fairly recently after being named as one of the most endangered historic places. The mill was completed in 1881 and was the largest flour mill in the world for 40 years. It stopped operating in 2003 and has since been through the redevelopment wringer.

Unlike the Washburn A Mill, this one never exploded, although its design, by an architect rather than an engineer, had trouble standing up to the vibrations produced by its massive machinery, leaving the outer walls of the original mill building bowed out by 22 inches at the top.

I took several pictures I thought were worth posting, but once I got a shot with the horse-drawn carriage out front, how couldn't I put it up top? It's vaguely reminiscent of the horse drawn carts in front of the mill in this 1884 postcard.

Not surprisingly, there are many old images available from the Historical Society. This one, showing a train preparing to leave from the center of the complex, makes me think that someone should do a comparison showing what things look like today. Hmm. Perhaps I have a new project idea.

Finally, I'd highlight this one, from around the turn of the 20th century, showing a smaller mill complex as well as the water flowing on the riverbank below the mill. If I was more familiar with mill terminology, I could probably describe it more accurately, but I'd bet the water there has already been through the waterwheels.

I'll leave you with one last shot, taken from across the river and showing the stone arch bridge and a bit more of the surrounding context:

Flour Power

We're back to the mill district, with the preserved Gold Medal Flour sign that's a landmark on the riverfront. Above it's framed with the old mills and the Mill City Museum, and below with the "new" Guthrie Theater. We've already covered nearby Northwestern mills, and I'm sure the Pillsbury A mill will be in our future, but this time we feature signage for the still-available product from General Mills. The site is the Washburn A mill, which dates to the 1870s and was the largest in the world upon its completion. In 1878 an explosion rocked the mill, killing several people and reducing the city's milling capacity by a third. Not to be deterred by the deaths of 18, the mill was rebuilt and back up and running again by 1880.

As you would expect, the historical society has a few good shots of the days when the mill was running as well.

It's Pronounced Eye-Gor

From lumber and saw milling we move to flour. This is the side of the Northwestern Consolidated Milling Company's "Million Bushel Elevator," with the Carlyle condominium (the tallest residential building in Minneapolis) visible in the background. At the time of its formation via the consolidation of several local milling companies in 1891, Northwestern was the second largest milling company in the world behind local rival Pillsbury and just ahead of the predecessor to General Mills, also a local rival. In this era, Minneapolis, and St. Anthony Falls, was the flour milling capital of the world.

The Ceresota brand (a combination of Roman goddess of agriculture and Minnesota?) dates to 1891, but the building here is a relative new comer being built as recently as 1908. It operated as a mill until the 1950s, when it was converted to light industrial and manufacturing. Today it's rental office space.

Once again, the Historical Society has some interesting images, in particular of old ads for the Ceresota brand. I'll just highlight an interesting interior shot of the bagging operation from 1940, an undated exterior showing the industrial nature of the area that's quite a contrast to today, and an undated shot of some women holding Diamond and Ceresota brand bags (I tried but failed to resist the temptation to point out that the one on the left looks a lot like Marty Feldman).

The mill and the sign are near the river on S. 2nd St.