In the Nineteenth Century, the summer heat was an unabated horror. Here is how it affected the Minneapolitans in the old city: "Little was done in the way of business except what was actually necessary. Clerks in the stores confined their principal attention to keeping cool -- a task that was as hopeless of fulfillment as it was specious in promises... Those whose duties took them upon the street dragged along the shady side as much as possible and tried to dodge the issue but couldn't... The only business that seemed to profit by the hot wave was the ice and saloon traffic. The ice men were dripping statues of happiness... At the saloons the principle article in demand was lemonade, plain or with variations." It was wretchedly hot in July.
In those un-air-conditioned times, unrelieved heat was thought to cause mental derangement, to wit, the following case of a woman who lived in the Gateway district in 1880.
"Mrs. M. E. Whitney, proprietess of the laundry at 218 South Washington Avenue, yesterday afternoon escaped from her room to which she has been confined for some time with an attack of typhoid fever. Her presence upon the street was noticed by Detective Hoy, who compelled her to return to her rooms. Last evening about 8 o-clock she again escaped and has not since been seen but once. When she left her home she was attired only in her night dress and an alarm was at once given to the police, who instituted a search which after several hours proved of no avail. Wm. Hannigan at a later hour reported that he saw the unfortunate woman in the vicinity of the Falls hotel, and that she was walking rapidly and directly toward the river. The supposition is that she has succeeded in committing suicide which has long been contemplated and once or twice attempted. Mrs. Whitney has been very unfortunate during a number of years past, and the life of a dissipated husband brought dissipation and disgrace to herself..."
Mrs. Whitney responded indignantly, " I write to say that I am not in the river, neither have I been any nearer than I am at present, and if I were very DISSIPATED I could not support myself and family of six persons. I have been sick, or worse than sick, for four weeks, but I can prove by my help that I am not dissipated... You can call at my office and I can get plenty of proof that the whole thing is false excepting that I am sick, M. E. Whitney."
Thus an authentic voice from the old Gateway responding to newspaper smears.
[From The Other Minneapolis, or A History of the Minneapolis Skid Row, by David L. Roshiem.]
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| [Minneapolis Bridge Square / Gateway, c. 1874.] |
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