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The Park Rapids Saloon Raid

Merle A. Potter

101 Best Stories of Minnesota

December 28, 1909 was a dour day for Park Rapids. The townsmen were still flushed with the spirit of Christmas and were making preparations for the gaiety of a happy New Year.

But there was no happy New Year in Park Rapids, or if there was, it was might well repressed. There was no wine or wassail that year. ‘ Pussyfoot’ Johnson was responsible for the blight. Although some of the good citizens of the town stood by and applauded the work.

This was long before W. E Johnson, representative of the Anti - Saloon League had lost one of his eyes in an effort to dry up the British Isles. He had, however, acquired the nickname of ‘ Pussyfoot’ down in Oklahoma, when he had an encounter with a poolroom proprietor suspected of selling liquor. The fellow had boasted that he would shoot the enforcement officer on sight. The latter, disguised as a drunken cattleman, went into the pool room to by a drink. Threatening to fight when he was offered sarsaparilla, he induced the owner of the place to bring out a bottle of whisky, whereupon Johnson overpowered and arrested the lawbreaker. An Oklahoma paper, in giving an account of the incident , said ” the booze buster “ strikes like lightning, even if he is a “ pussyfoot.”
 

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Cover of Potter’s local bestseller, 101 Best Stories of Minnesota.
--Stefanowicz

His exploits against liquor brought him into such prominence that Theodore Roosevelt appointed him as special officer to enforce anti liquor laws in the Indian territories and reservations. In the course of his duties, “ Pussyfoot “’ was sent to Minnesota, where, it was said, the liquor laws were being violated on the White Earth Reservation. At that time there were sixteen flourishing saloons, one for every hundred persons in Park Rapids, all dong a good business, enjoying prosperity along with popularity, little realizing that disaster was just around the corner.

A short time before, the Indians of the reservation had been granted the right to dispose of their lands and timber by the government. As soon as the red men collected the money from their sales, they struck out for the nearest rum shop, and it wasn’t long before they were drunk. There was plenty of evidence that the Indians were being defrauded, being induced to dispose of their land and timber for a few quarts to drink. It was a nasty situation, and many of their families were in absolute want.

Representatives of the government came out to the reservation, investigated and came to the conclusion that the only remedy was to enforce the old Indian treaty of 1855, which had been permitted to lie un - enforced for years and made the selling of liquor to the wards of the government a hazardous offense. The center of the Indian trade was the territory about Cass Lake, Walker and Bemidji and there the officers struck first. In the spring of 1909 an agreement was reached with the saloon keepers of Bemidji by which no liquor was to be sold to the Indians. Cass Lake and Walker were each allowed to operate only two saloons.
 

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The once famous and now missing illuminated map based on Merle Potter’s book, last seen in a faculty lounge at the University of Minnesota just prior to remodeling. Hopefully it hangs in someone’s basement and will be returned to the public one day.
--Dawes Potter

When the thirsty braves found that they could no longer exchange their timber and lands for firewater at these three towns, they turned in droves toward Park Rapids as an alcoholic oasis, where their desires were greedily gratified by the wet goods traffickers. As a consequence, Park Rapids became the headquarters for their drunken orgies. The Park Rapids Enterprise and the Hubbard County Clipper published editorials condemning the practice, and letters of protest were hurried to Washington.

It was then that “Pussyfoot ” was assigned to the job. He struck with his accustomed fury and thoroughness. On December 2, 1909, he issued an order that called attention to the Law of 1855, the penalties for violation were cited, and a solemn warning sounded that unless there was compliance, there would be trouble for sixty saloons. The grog dealers were instructed to move their stocks from Park Rapids by December 27. The saloon keepers were inclined to fight. They called on their congressman, enlisted the aid of the brewers and distillers, pulled strings, wrote petitions and called meetings of citizens. It was no use. The order meant what it said.

Along came December 28, and the bars were still open in defiance of “ Pussyfoot “ Johnson and all of his edicts. The morning started off very quietly. The barkeeps were on the job serving up Tom and Jerrys, John Collins and other jovial concoctions about as usual when a catastrophe came riding in on the noon train, The cars had hardly come to a complete stop when a swarm of enforcement officer, led by “ Pussyfoot “ very much in person began leaving the train by every exit. They started a parade up the main street of Park Rapids, entered the first saloon, took change with ceremony and over the vehement protests of the owner, began stacking the bottled goods up in the street. Neatly arrayed in rows, the choice beverages were soon smashed to bits, and liquor literally flowed down the streets of the town.

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