2026-04-25T07:11:10+00:00 Zend_Feed_Writer https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/ Minnesota Environments https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu 2014-11-11T15:23:53+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/32 Takuya Amagai , Sahree Kasper and the Minnesota Environments Team Minnesota’s first grains of wheat sprouted in the southeastern part of the state, but the epicenter of production soon shifted to the Red River Valley in the northwestern part of the state. Minnesota produced its first wheat in 1820. But because of factors such as sparse farming population in Minnesota, it was not until 1858 that wheat was considered an important crop. As the southeastern farmers began growing wheat, they struggled to adapt the soft winter wheat varieties, planted in the fall and harvested the next year, to the state’s harsh winters. Another variety, hard spring wheat, emerged as a solution: farmers planted it in the spring and harvested in the fall, avoiding the winter months. When a growing number of farmers in the southeastern part of the state began to grow wheat in the 1870s, stem rust and grasshoppers plagued wheat farmers. To prevent stem rust, farmers experimented with chemicals and different wheat varieties. In 1876, grasshoppers damaged half a million acres of crops throughout forty counties in Minnesota. An example of a decline in wheat between 1870 to 1890 is seen in southeastern counties such as Olmsted County, which experienced a decrease in wheat production from 2,117,074 bushels in 1870 to 198,992 bushels in 1890. Farmers in southeastern Minnesota switched away from wheat to other crops, encouraging wheat production to shift towards the fertile lands of the Red River Valley. The Red River Valley case illustrates how the richness of the land allowed farmers to create bonanza farms, farms with an area of more than a thousand acres. Eventually the overproduction of wheat drove down prices for wheat and decreased the fertility of the land. Why did farmers choose the Red River Valley? First, the decline of wheat production in southeastern Minnesota caused farmers to look to the Red River Valley where there was an abundance of fertile lands. Second, the plans to extend the Northern Pacific Railway through the region fell through in 1873. The speculators put its land up for sale at an affordable price for the farmers. Despite the failure of the North Pacific Railway, the state later constructed railways to transport wheat and other crops, connecting the valley to Minneapolis and beyond, which helped the farmers export their wheat. And finally, the strong demand for flour from the nation and Europe encouraged Minnesotan farmers to grow as much wheat as they could. While the bonanza farms in the Red River Valley produced large amounts of wheat during their first few years, they were eventually broken up in smaller farms. One reason for the dissolution of bonanza farms was because the profit that bonanza farmers made was small enough that it was wiped out by tax increases and crop failures. Moreover, a sudden increase in wheat available on the market drove the price of wheat downward. Finally, the overproduction of wheat also depleted soil nutrients, which only exacerbated the problem. Eventually, the bonanza farms were broken up into smaller farms by farmers so that they could adapt to any changes in wheat production or the weather. For more (including 4 images), view the original article. 2014-11-05T19:01:17+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/29 Takuya Amagai , Sahree Kasper and the Minnesota Environments Team In 1915, flour production in Minneapolis peaked at about two million barrels. From there, the mills started a slow descent from world leadership to only a memory of their former glory. In 1880, Minneapolis was known as the “Flour Milling Capital of the World,” or simply, “Mill City.” In 1928, a number of mills formed together into one company, General Mills, and from then on the two names most associated with milling would be General Mills and Pillsbury. After World War I, flour milling in Minneapolis entered a period of significant decline. By 1930, the great Mill City had become a shadow of its former self. The early advantages of Minneapolis mills - power provided by the falls and their innovative milling techniques - ceased to provide a competitive edge. The Red River Valley was experiencing declining crop fertility and the southeastern farms began adopting harder wheat varieties. While a few millers kept their headquarters in Minneapolis, such as General Mills and Pillsbury, most millers moved away from Minneapolis. Although few true millers remain in Minneapolis, the city has found ways to honor its heritage. For nearly eighty years up until 1960, Minneapolis' baseball team was called the Millers. The city’s Gold Medal Park, named after the Washburn-Crosby company's award-winning flour, was opened in 2007 and borders the old milling district and St. Anthony Falls. The Washburn A. Mill closed in 1965 and when it was destroyed by a fire in 1991, the Minnesota Historical Society converted it into the Mill City Museum. The museum hopes to lead visitors to discover how the milling industry of the city “transformed a region and influenced our world.” Currently, the museum is in the process of preserving the Washburn-Crosby Elevator No. 1, one of the first and largest circular grain storage units. From the southeastern pioneer farms to the northwestern bonanza farms, from St. Anthony Falls to the city’s milling district, the rich wheat farming and milling industries are heavily integrated into the city’s legacy. These living memories, the museum and the park, show that Minneapolis strives to preserve more than a mill; the city is preserving its history and the legacy of wheat and flour in the city. For more (including 5 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T15:01:56+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/28 Charlie Kilman , Ben Pletta and the Minnesota Environments Team Gooseberry Falls State Park, situated on the bank of Lake Superior, embodies the shift of land use from extraction to recreation and reveals that the conservation mindset has always been present within the history of Minnesota’s tourism industry. The history of the park represents how Minnesota’s culture has come to coexist with the natural environment. Gooseberry Falls is a carefully manicured park containing miles of guided walkways and bridges fashioned to allow human interaction with the park’s landscape. Apart from its tourist-friendly infrastructure, the ecosystem of the park functions as naturally as any forestland in northern Minnesota. In terms of its creation, the Civilian Conservation Corps constructed the park in 1937 in order to make America’s natural environment more accessible for human enjoyment, and to allow the government to cash in on recreation. The romanticization of nature prevalent in the tourism industry is echoed through the imagery of Gooseberry Falls. A painted postcard from 1945 displays the grandeur of the falls in vibrant colors. In addition, the iconic north shore drive bridge that usually looms in the background of the falls is decidedly absent, which demonstrates the park’s desire to create an idealized form of nature void of human presence. Compared to the reality of the falls in a photograph taken in 1930, it is clear that the postcard is using a sentimentalized image of the falls through color and the absence of human touch to attract the consumer to the vista. Indeed, the reality of the falls contains a high amount of human alteration, especially with the man-made bridge constantly hovering over the natural flow of the falls. Before Gooseberry Falls became a state park, it was primarily a source of timber for the logging industry. In 1900, a logging company built its headquarters at the mouth of the Gooseberry River on Lake Superior, but by the 1920’s the pine had all but disappeared. Much like Bay and Cass Lakes, the use of the land constituting Gooseberry Falls has been both destructive and regenerative; however, no amount of preservation can revert the landscape back to its original state. So, in consideration of Gooseberry Falls, Star Island, and the Ruttger Family, has tourism fostered an effective industry that promotes ethical land use and conservation? For more (including 4 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:46:57+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/27 Justin Berchiolli , Isaac Shapiro and the Minnesota Environments Team Though abundant and accessible water certainly benefited the population of Minneapolis, it also set up some fundamental problems. An interconnected infrastructure drawing from a mixed-use water source inadvertently created a new vector of disease transmission: the modern series of pumps and sewers. Haunted by the specter of typhoid, city officials unwittingly propagated typhoid outbreaks by funneling the entire city’s water system to one source, the Mississippi River. Minneapolis’ two-pipe system ultimately resulted in a steadily increasing amount of waste being pumped directly into the city’s single water source. As a result, the Mississippi River was being transformed by municipal water systems that developed around using the river as both a water source and a waste repository. While the development of an extensive sewage infrastructure contributed to increasing the health and living conditions of Minneapolis residents, these benefits were localized to boundaries of Minneapolis. The incorporation of a system which cleared city limits of its refuse and wastewater simply transported refuse along the Mississippi. The amount of waste generated by the growing population of an entire city traveled downstream and ultimately degraded connected riparian environments and polluted the water supply of other communities who used the Mississippi as a source. The adoption and integration of a municipal water system greatly increased the efficiency with which water was procured and dispensed. Today, Minneapolis’ water infrastructure boasts over a thousand miles of pipes, an annual withdrawal of 21 billion gallons, and a comprehensive sanitation system including filtration, disinfection, sedimentation, chemical additives, and softening agents. The development of this infrastructural system brought about an enormous increase in water consumption, which continues to threaten the sustainability of urban water provision and the watersheds they depend on. As population growth continues, we must consider negotiating a solution that allows us to provide for a growing population with a shrinking resource base. The continued sustainability of the watersheds we extract water from is essential to ensuring not only future economic and ecologic stability but also for ensuring that millions of people receive basic provisions. For more, view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:46:39+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/26 Maja Black , Sarah Goodman and the Minnesota Environments Team “Acid rain was the first environmental issue where it became crystal clear to everybody that we can’t address this as a problem in isolation. In the past, we looked at a problem and would say, ‘okay - the Cuyahoga River caught on fire; well [therefore] we have to reduce the emissions that are going into the Cuyahoga River.’ It’s a fairly geographically limited, tiny package. But acid rain, the air moves everywhere: one day it’s blowing this way and one day it’s blowing that way, and there are sources on both sides of the border. “ - Dr. Gregory Pratt, Minnesota Pollution Control Agency To experienced organizations committed to protecting Minnesota’s natural resources, acid rain presented a major but, ultimately, manageable threat. The citizenry of Minnesota took forceful action through the democratic process, and seemed to value environmental protection over their pocketbooks. Perhaps the most exciting and hopeful result of this political action was that it worked. The air quality is better today than it was in 1980 when the danger was first recognized. The threat of acid rain was recognized, combated, and to an extent, curtailed. This remarkable accomplishment is indicative of an environmental awareness and a proactive electorate. This is an example of what can be achieved when people recognize a threat to their environment and well-being, and take concerted democratic action to alter the course of events. Furthermore, Minnesotans chose to make personal and economic sacrifices to benefit the environment, costing themselves to protect the nature around them. This seems like a teachable moment in which one state confronted a national environmental problem and effected positive environmental changes. In setting our sights on new environmental issues, Minnesota’s acid rain story serves as a valuable reminder of the power of civic action taken against an environmental obstacle. For more (including 1 sound clip), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:46:26+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/25 Maja Black , Sarah Goodman and the Minnesota Environments Team The combination of new acid rain scholarship and existing organizations motivated Minnesotans to take action. In 1982, the state passed the Acid Deposition Control Act. This act recognized that "acid precipitation substantially resulting from the conduct of commercial and industrial operations, both within and without the state, poses a present and severe danger to the delicate balance of ecological systems within the state, and that the failure to act promptly and decisively to mitigate or eliminate this danger will soon result in untold and irreparable damage to the agricultural, water, forest, fish, and wildlife resources of the state." Additionally, the act reallocated taxpayer dollars to the participating government agencies: the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency, the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, and the Minnesota Department of Health. Lastly, the legislation mandated that the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency (MPCA), a government organization responsible for researching environmental threats, do two main things: 1) investigate the science behind acid rain, and 2) following this research, they would devise and implement an acid deposition control strategy. The MPCA researchers concluded that ninety percent of sulfur emissions were, in fact, coming from out of state. Moreover, over ten percent came from as far away as Texas. Seasonal winds brought the sulfur-laden air straight to Minnesota. This led to a necessary realization: there were limits on what a single state could do to curtail a national problem. However, Minnesota could reduce its own internal emissions on both the individual and the industrial level. For individuals, the MPCA recommended reduction of sulfur and nitrogen oxide emissions by curbing unnecessary driving and conserving energy. In collaboration with the MPCA, the Acid Rain Foundation, Inc. suggested, “By cutting down on energy use, we also can reduce the need for new, potentially polluting power plants.” For the already existing power companies, as the greatest contributors, meeting the MPCA’s standards necessitated a shift from high-sulfur coal from the East to newly available low-sulfur coal from the West. By mandating this change from eastern to western coal, the cost of energy rose for the suppliers. Ultimately, the cost of clean air fell more heavily on the suppliers than on the citizenry. For more (including 2 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:45:49+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/24 Maja Black , Sarah Goodman and the Minnesota Environments Team It is generally agreed that there is a strong environmental awareness in Minnesota -- one that influences the way the state conserves its natural resources. According to a 1981 poll published in the Minneapolis Tribune asking Minnesotans to choose between promoting economic growth or protecting the environment, 62% of the respondents thought that protecting the environment was more important. However, what set this story apart was not only the ethic of conservation among Minnesota's residents but also their willingness to take action. The popular mobilization in defense of the Minnesota Boundary Waters in the late 1970s serves as an early example. To protect this area from overdevelopment, a coalition of activists and organizations inside and outside of the government banded together to get Minnesota’s Boundary Waters federally designated as a Wilderness Area. This culminated in the passage of the 1978 Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness Act. In the aftermath of this environmental victory, many of the organizations now had momentum and experience, and were ready for a new crusade. When acid rain first begin to garner state-wide attention as a threat to Minnesota’s environment, it became clear that the wilderness these groups had just fought to protect was newly endangered. Moreover, the concern extended beyond the condition of the sensitive lakes in Minnesota’s northeast corner: acid rain threatened the state’s environment as a whole. This, in turn, stimulated public calls for government action. The attorney representing the Minnesota Public Research Group, Michelle Morley, explained it with this statement, “Sure, it will [cost] a lot. But we will do it again, each time if we have to. Who’s going to put a price tag on the air we breathe; on the quality of our air and water?” With this question, Morley expanded the conversation from defense of a single wilderness area to protection of air and water -- basic necessities of all living things. The same Minneapolis Tribune poll noted above echoed Morley’s sentiments. When asked whether clean air and water were worth paying higher taxes, 79% of the respondents answered favorably. Minnesotans proved willing to put their money where their mouths were. For more (including 3 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:27:17+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/22 Charlie Kilman , Ben Pletta and the Minnesota Environments Team The recreational development of Minnesota’s Northwoods was not limited just to resorts. Private cottage development was also underway during the early 20th century and forged a strong bond between regional metropolitan areas and the scenic lake country of Minnesota. Star Island on Cass Lake demonstrates this growing phenomenon as well as the discontent it stirred among people who found encroaching development undesirable. Many people who found escape from the urban world in the more remote areas came to appreciate the lack of activity up north. Star Island provides an unusual case because a number of private cottages and a hotel were built there even though it was within the boundaries of Chippewa National Forest, formerly known as the Minnesota National Forest from 1909 to 1928. In 1914, A.J. Starr, an attorney from Des Moines, Iowa, contracted the Lydick Mercantile Co. to build a summer cottage on the island. Starr mirrored most island residents in that he was a professional from an urban setting seeking the sanctuary of a secluded landscape. Other residents of the island included doctors and university professors, all of whom demonstrate the transient status of many of the island’s citizens as professionals who used the island to escape the stressful demands of their workplace. Initially seeking an escape from daily life, these residents eventually became conscious the environment’s vulnerability. Although mainly a place of private development, Star Island’s strong urban–hinterland connection reflects a desire by local communities to cash in on the traveling businessman. With regional calls for “A Road to Every Lake,” infrastructure spread tourism throughout northern Minnesota, which endangered Star Island’s isolation and natural beauty. Although Island residents opposed it, local residents called for a new road and bridge to be built connecting the island to the shores of Cass Lake in hopes of stimulating commerce. For years, local businessmen attempted to persuade island residents and the Forest Service to allow for this addition. Lester B. Shippe, a University of Minnesota professor and island resident, asserted that “there is no good which will be served by anyone through the erection of the bridge: none of the people who have cottages on the island wish it, indeed they are unanimously opposed to such a thing.” The residents of Star Island truly saw themselves as caretakers of this unique piece of land, and embraced its status as semi-wilderness with its existing stands of red and white pine that happened to escape the ravenous logging industry. The reactions against an increase in commercial use of Star Island were rooted in a romanticized ideal of how to coexist with nature. Christian Ruckmick, a member of the Star Island Protective League, voiced the fundamental opposition residents held against further development, noting how they “want to get away from cars and the clamor of commerce. We want to enjoy the natural beauty of a place which has been kept in its pristine attractiveness and enjoys this reputation beyond compare in all the north country.” Ultimately, the people coming to appreciate the recreational, spiritual and communal benefits of going “up north” in Minnesota became staunch defenders of the island’s isolated environment. Thus, although tourism became a means of income and prosperity for people like the Ruttger family, it also created a stronger bond between urban dwellers and their natural environment. For more (including 5 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:19:33+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/20 Takuya Amagai , Sahree Kasper and the Minnesota Environments Team St. Anthony Falls and the area surrounding it became the milling capital of Minnesota in the second half of the 19th century. The mills, for both lumber and flour, were built alongside the falls to capitalize the power that the rushing water provided. In the 1850s, mill owners constructed canals and tunnels around the falls to supply the mills with water and to discharge used water and waste. Slowly, constant upgrades and modifications made to ensure the stability of the falls and the productivity of the mills tamed the wild and unruly St. Anthony Falls. Even though St. Anthony Falls provided seemingly ideal conditions for a thriving a milling district, the geology of the falls was more fragile and susceptible to erosion than its early developers realized. Characteristic of the surrounding area, the district was built on the base of a hard limestone cap and a soft sandstone base. This made it easy to drill tunnels through the soft sandstone under the falls, but it also created a geologically unstable landscape when combined with flowing water. In the 1860s, Minneapolis pushed for the construction of an “apron” over the falls, which would protect the falls by rerouting the water over wooden planks, slowing the flow and protecting the sandstone layer from further erosion. In 1867, a flood destroyed the recently completed apron, overwhelming the mills and sweeping away the lumber booms, the barriers meant to contain the logs. The flood further destabilized the falls and the thousands of logs released from the lumber booms battered buildings perched along the river. Fears were voiced that another flood like this would completely destroy the falls and the river’s infrastructure. By 1869, the construction of a new apron was underway. As its completion neared, an article in the Tribune optimistically wrote, “the mighty falls of St. Anthony have been made to succumb to man and are now as subject to his will as a child.” Unfortunately, the power of the falls was yet again underestimated. In the fall of that same year, Hennepin Island collapsed, resulting from one disaster after another. The owners of the island built a tunnel beneath it, but in October of 1869, the rushing water pummeled the lower end of the island and washed away a chunk of the island. There was no hope for mills on the island and volunteers began salvaging what they could carry. During this, parts of the tunnel collapsed and the volunteers tried to block the tunnel gaps with miscellaneous materials, such as logs and dirt, but to no avail. Their next idea was to build a raft from the lumber on Nicollet Island, which was guided over the collapsed opening. The raft could not withstand the powerful flow from the gap, and as it came apart, the volunteers noticed that another section of Hennepin Island had washed away. In 1870, spring floods washed the rest of the new apron away. Minneapolis and its millers felt powerless compared to the fierce falls. Despite these repeated setbacks, the residents of Minneapolis knew that they could not abandon the reinforcement of the falls or else their famous mills would be no more. Construction carried on, expanding to include the dikes and dams that were installed in the following years. By the mid 1880s, the wild falls were finally stabilized. The industry along the falls continued, and the flour mills powered well into the early twentieth century. For more (including 6 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:13:15+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/19 Charlie Kilman , Ben Pletta and the Minnesota Environments Team By the early 20th century, Northwoods entrepreneurs increasingly embraced tourism as a reliable business, and in the process transformed the region from landscapes of production, built on extracting the region’s abundant natural resources, into landscapes of consumption, which relied on the beauty and accessibility of the land for recreational purposes. The core of the tourism and resort industry can be examined through the stories and experiences of the Ruttger family, a pioneer in the Northwoods tourism business who still operate today. Joseph Ruttger, father of Alec, Max, Ed, and Bill Ruttger, started his career in the 1890s as a laborer in the logging industry; however, as the timber industry declined, his house soon became a rest stop for travelers, which slowly morphed into a profitable resort. By 1920, Joseph’s son, Alec Ruttger took over management of Bay Lake Lodge and began catering to the growing hunger for a more natural vacation. In order to draw in travelers from both the Twin Cities and other states, the Ruttgers needed both to keep a pristine landscape for fishing and recreation and to produce advertisements that drew in customers from urban communities. In an interview, Jack Ruttger (son of Alec Ruttger) explains that while working in tourism, “you don’t grow crops, but still try to exist and raise your family and you work off the land.” It is known that the Ruttger family, like most resort owners, had a close bond with the land, relying on lakes teeming with fish and lush green woodland encompassing the shoreline to attract and retain customers. Ruttger’s Bay Lake Lodge clearly demonstrates these aesthetic and natural qualities of a successful resort. However, the inhabitation of lakes must always bear some consequence for the ecosystem already in place. Still, between the desire to keep a healthy environment and live comfortably came the decision to draw in customers with romanticized advertisements of the Northwoods environment. Jack Ruttger touched upon this idea in an interview in which he discussed his father’s rhetoric in his 1930s newsletters, one of which reported, “I've just been out walking the woods, and I discovered eight new lakes that nobody ever knew existed.” Clearly, the Ruttger family used an idealized view of the Northwoods in order attract patrons. As opposed to the logging industry, which relies heavily on processes that are overwhelmingly destructive to the environment, the resort industry requires a careful consideration of the internal benefits people receive from being in nature, so the Ruttgers took a cosmetic approach to the landscape by making it an attractive, consumable, and romanticized space. For more (including 3 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T14:08:27+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/18 Takuya Amagai , Sahree Kasper and the Minnesota Environments Team The mills of Minneapolis had a humble beginning, but they soon emerged as a world-renowned flour powerhouse. On their path to fame, the mills struggled to tame St. Anthony Falls and to mill and market the coarser varieties of spring wheat that grew in Minnesota. The mills and St. Anthony Falls formed a close-knit connection; the mills would not have without the falls, and the falls would not have been reinforced without the mills. Because the state’s harsh winter climate eliminated soft winter wheat it as an option for Minnesota wheat farmers, they grew spring wheat which they could plant in the spring and harvest in the fall. Yet hard spring wheat created challenges for the mills. Because it had a brittle husk, the wheat produced a darker and coarser flour than the more popular winter wheat. It was also difficult to mix evenly, resulting in flour that soured more quickly than the flour produced from softer winter wheat varieties. To solve these problems Minneapolis millers applied and adapted two innovations. The first, called a “middlings purifier,” blasted air through the flour, removing the undesirable bran and husks from the valuable flour, making the final product less coarse and lighter-colored. The second, a process called “gradual-reduction,” replaced the traditional millstones made of stone with roller mills made of porcelain or iron. These new rollers successfully mixed the gluten and the starch, which gave the flour a longer shelf life. With the unique challenges of milling hard spring wheat solved, sales skyrocketed - along with the reputation of Minneapolis millers. In 1870, there were thirteen flour mills by St. Anthony Falls, versus a total of five hundred other mills throughout the state. That year, the Minneapolis mills produced 200,000 barrels of flour. As wheat production shifted from southeastern Minnesota to the northwestern part of the state, the Minneapolis mills became more central to the wheat economy. With its direct connection to the Mississippi River and its proximity to the Great Lakes, Minneapolis became a hub for flour. By 1884, Minneapolis was the world’s leading flour miller. In 1890, the Minneapolis mills produced a record seven million barrels of wheat. Even though less than four percent of the country’s mills were in Minnesota, these mills produced nearly a fourth of the nation’s flour. It was the golden age of flour milling in Minneapolis, fueled by the falls and by innovations in the mills. For more (including 6 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:55:47+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/16 Charlie Kilman , Ben Pletta and the Minnesota Environments Team At the end of the 19th century, logging was an integral part of northern Minnesota’s economy. Although the timber industry gained substantial revenue and fueled development in various parts of the country, its reliance upon trees weighed heavily on the environment’s health. Indeed, by 1900 the annual timber harvest averaged around 2 billion board feet, indicating that this industry could provide economic prosperity to many. However, by the 1920s it was clear that regenerative properties of the forest could not keep up with the growing demands of our nation. The lumber companies in the Northwoods decimated the ecosystem, transforming the forest into a vast stumpland known as the “cutover.” By 1920, the annual harvest had declined from its peak to around 576 million board feet, it had become clear that the boom and bust cycle of clearcutting could not continue provide a steady income for the inhabitants of northern and central Minnesota. With both the quality and quantity of Minnesota’s timber supply dwindling, the logging industry looked westward toward the abundant forests of the Pacific Northwest. At the time there were two main alternatives to logging in the Northwoods region: farming and tourism. Although agriculture seemed promising, it took a substantial amount of work to transform the land from cutover into farmland, which required landowners to uproot countless stumps with a complex horse-drawn system of ropes and pulleys called a “stump puller.” As Frank Wethner, a farmer in Minnesota’s cutover region, reflected in an interview, this process was slow and painstaking work. He recalled that “a couple of men do well to pull a couple of stumps a day.” Coupled with the relatively rocky soil and short growing season, the stump removal process discouraged many farmers from taking up the plow in order to make a living off the land. By comparison, tourism seemed to offer an easier path to a prosperous future in a region with more than its fair share of natural amenities that beckoned to affluent residents of the Twin Cities. For more (including 4 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:54:47+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/15 Justin Berchiolli , Isaac Shapiro and the Minnesota Environments Team Minneapolis’ population and size continued to expand throughout the 1880s. Typhoid outbreaks maintained a positive correlation with the population and size of the city. Baffled city officials searched for a source to blame and settled on the portion of the population that drew their water from private wells. After 453 people died from typhoid in 1883, Dr. J.H. Salisbury, the City Physician and Health Officer, stated that the ground lying beneath the city was “saturated with filth” from cesspools and privies. Dr. Salisbury and the majority of the medical community at the time subscribed to the dominant contemporary theory that miasmas caused disease. This theory presents illness as originating from bad air. City officials believed that typhoid was caused from air coming off of waste in cesspools and outhouses. They referred to typhoid as the “filth fever” and came to associate it with the houseflies that gathered around human waste and garbage. City officials believed they could solve all their problems by piping what they called “the purest water in the United States” to their citizens. By connecting everyone to the municipal sewer system, they would eliminate the miasmas that came out of outhouses and cesspools and stop the spread of typhoid. This plan was largely realized by the end of the 1880s at which point the majority of Minneapolis’ residents drew their water from the municipal water grid. The city thought their problems with typhoid were outdated, but the worst was yet to come. For more (including 3 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:54:36+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/13 Justin Berchiolli , Isaac Shapiro and the Minnesota Environments Team The first municipal water pump opened in 1867 primarily for the fire department’s use. This pump was located along a canal that fed mills on the west bank of the Mississippi River just north of the city limits. As Minneapolis’ population quadrupled throughout the 1870s, city officials expanded the water system beyond the original pump. In 1871, the city bought an old stone building above St. Anthony Falls and transformed it to a pump house which catered to businesses and residents rather than fire departments. Both pumps took water directly from the Mississippi River. With access to piped-in water, as opposed to well water, the average personal consumption grew to 50 to 100 gallons per day. This exponential increase in water-use overwhelmed the previous system of cesspools and outhouses for handling wastewater. Even before this marked rise, the cesspools and privies were already in a poor state. Unless lined perfectly with cement, bricks or other sealants, waste from the cesspools would seep into the groundwater supply. The issues with the original waste management system were exacerbated by the increase in wastewater. To ease the pressure on this system, Minneapolis developed sewer systems. The original sewage pipes were located in a old stream bed which sits under present day Washington Avenue. These pipes delivered waste directly to the Mississippi River. This system of using the same source for both water supply and waste repository, known as the two-pipe system, was common throughout budding American metropolises. While low population density allowed this system to flourish in its early stages, as populations rose its imperfections became exposed. For more (including 2 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:54:23+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/12 Maja Black , Sarah Goodman and the Minnesota Environments Team. From the 1970s onward, acid rain started to gain national and international attention as a threat to the environment. A direct result of human air pollution, acid rain occurs when large amounts of fossil fuels with high sulfur content, like coal, release sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxides into the air. Once exposed to elements in the atmosphere, these oxides then undergo chemical transformations into acids, which, when deposited upon land or water, have damaging effects on the local ecosystems. For example, acid precipitation lowers the pH of aquatic systems, which endangers the aquatic life. Unlike many localized environmental problems, the effects of acid rain are widespread and not confined to the areas in which the sulfur dioxides originated. Studies in Scandinavia determined that winds from Great Britain and continental Europe were carrying pollutants to Norway and Sweden, acidifying their lakes and streams. This same phenomenon was occurring in North America: heavy fossil fuel burning in places like Texas made toxic waste products airborne, and cross-country winds carried and deposited these pollutants in states as far away as Minnesota. This was an example of an environmental problem that could not be solved by local action alone and, in fact, implicated human environmental activity on a broader scale. In Minnesota, the threat of acid rain registered on multiple levels. First, Northeastern Minnesota’s biome is particularly susceptible to the effects of acid rain. Furthermore, this large area of the state was sensitive to the effects of acidification both culturally and economically. Symbolically, the Minnesotan identity is closely tied to its label as the “land of 10,000 lakes." This image, however, is one of clean waters and healthy ecosystems. As such, acid rain posed a threat to the state identity. Not only that, but the lakes also serve as important economic and social resources. As one of the largest industries in the state, tourism depends upon the health and wellbeing of the fishing, hunting, and camping environment. It was obvious that the effects of acid rain would not just impact the environment -- it had the potential to threaten Minnesota’s culture, identity, and industry statewide. For more (including 5 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:54:19+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/11 Justin Berchiolli , Isaac Shapiro and the Minnesota Environments Team Over the next several decades, the exact cause of typhoid remained elusive and contested. As late as 1910, the Minnesota Board of Health insisted that drinking water was not the primary cause of typhoid. Instead, Minneapolis officials attributed the spread of typhoid to the ‘Three F’s,’: fingers, food, and flies. Minneapolis’ decision to focus on augmenting water infrastructure as a response to typhoid outbreaks was the result of two separate phenomena. On the one hand, a fundamental misunderstanding of disease causation shaped city officials’ response to typhoid and drove them to orchestrate a transition of water source from the ground water running beneath the city and accessed by wells to the Mississippi, a water source which was removed from the city. On the other hand, Minneapolis’ decision to develop water infrastructure was the result of apprehension over acknowledging a link between typhoid and municipal water which had the potential to jeopardize the reputation of Minneapolis as a sanitary city. As a result of apprehension over reputation, city officials remained recalcitrant in their defense of municipal water quality while directing the focus of typhoid eradication towards expanding the umbrella of water infrastructure. The city championed hygiene and immunization efforts to combat the spread of typhoid. In hindsight, while Minneapolis city officials were doing the right thing by addressing water source, their efforts were misplaced. Instead of improving the safety of water coming from the Mississippi River, city officials focused on phasing out private water sources while expanding the municipal water grid. In 1893, following another harrowing typhoid outbreak, the city of Minneapolis established a committee to examine wells. Of more than 1,000 cases of typhoid fever, the committee determined that half resulted from drinking municipal water. Typhoid prevalence was indistinguishable between private wells and the municipally-sponsored Mississippi River. Though the link between pollution in the Mississippi River and typhoid outbreaks throughout Minneapolis was becoming harder to refute, the city postponed infrastructural modifications such as filtration systems because they were unproven and expensive. By 1902, Minneapolis’ population had reached 225,000, and typhoid outbreaks persisted. With the arrival of bacteriological tests in 1903, the city concluded decisively that its current water source was in fact dangerously polluted. The first response was to change the locations of water pumps along the Mississippi River to move them more upstream of the sewage being discharged into the river. Despite these modifications, typhoid persisted and city officials realized that Minneapolis was not the sole city that piped waste into the Mississippi. Moving pumps upstream of where Minneapolis pumped its waste had no effect on the waste coming from upstream industries and cities. The realization that the Mississippi River carried pollution farther downstream than was previously understood gave rise to an initiative to install a sand filtration mechanism for Minneapolis’ water pumps. Altering the established two-pipe infrastructure built to deposit waste and collect water from the same area was impossible. Instead, the city had to focus on addressing the source of its water. Yet even after city officials realized what they could do to prevent typhoid outbreaks, the cost of infrastructure modification prevented an immediate response. It wasn’t until 1913 that the first purification plant was opened. For more (including 4 images), view the original article. 2014-11-04T13:54:18+00:00 2019-08-13T12:59:07+00:00 https://mnenvironments.carleton.edu/items/show/10 Justin Berchiolli , Isaac Shapiro and the Minnesota Environments Team In the 1860s, the city of Minneapolis bore little semblance to its modern day metropolitan nature. In comparing the historical map to a present-day map of Minneapolis, the minuscule size of the city becomes evident. The mid-19th century city was contained around St. Anthony Falls. Though the city's boundaries were small, it was not densely populated, as it housed only 3,000 people. Given the city’s small size, there was little desire to develop municipal utilities. Citizens were in charge of their own private systems, relying on wells and small pumps to provide water for their families. During this time, the average Minneapolitan used three to five gallons of water per day. Bringing drinking water into their homes and getting rid of wastewater were separate endeavours. Citizens placed their waste, both solid and liquid, into cesspools and outhouses which were dug in close vicinity to wells and pumps. At the time, people did not understand bacteria, so they put little effort into separating their waste from their water. Eventually, filth from outhouses seeped into the same water table tapped by wells and pumps. This led to the occasional outbreak of infectious diseases, like typhoid fever. Though a lack of population density spared the city from larger outbreaks. While Minneapolis’ system of water management was well suited to small towns and rural areas, as the city expanded, in terms of both geography and population, it became clear that the city needed to create a municipal water system and move beyond its existing approach of private management. For more (including 2 images), view the original article.