Moose County Legends

When it was known that the brick mansion would be the scene of a wedding, the best families could talk of nothing else. The bride was Otto’s only daughter; he had arranged for her to marry a suitable young man from the Goodwinter family; the date was set. Who would be invited? Was it true that Otto had taken his daughter before a magistrate and legally changed her name from Karla to Elsa? It was true. Elsa’s dower chest was filled with fine household linens and intimate wedding finery. Gifts were being delivered in the best carriages in town. Seamstresses were working overtime on costumes for the wedding guests.

Gowns for the bridal party were being shipped from Germany. Suppose there was a storm at sea! Suppose they did not arrive in time!

Then, on the very eve of the nuptials, Otto’s daughter eloped with the youngest son of Karl Klingenschoen!

Shock, embarrassment, sheer horror, and the madden-ing suspicion that Karl and Minnie had promoted the de-fection—all these emotions combined to affect Otto’s mind.

As for the young couple, there were rumors that they had gone to San Francisco. When the news came, a few years later, that the young couple had lost their lives in the earthquake, Elsa’s father had no idea who they were.

Karl and Minnie lived out their lives in the most splen-

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Lilian Jackson Braun did house in Pickax, ignored by everyone of social standing.

Karl never knew that his immense fortune was wiped out, following the financial crash of 1929.

Toward the end of the century, Otto’s sole descendant was an eccentric who sat on the porch of the brick palace and threw stones at dogs.

Karl’s sole descendant was Fanny Klingenschoen, who recovered her grandfather’s wealth ten times over.

Eventually the saga of the two families took a curious twist. The Klingenschoen Foundation has purchased two properties from the Limburger estate: the mansion in Black Creek and the hotel in Pickax. The former has become the Nutcracker Inn; the latter is now the Mackintosh Inn. The

“legend of the rubbish heap” has come full circle.

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2.

Secret of the

Blacksmith’s Wife

Revealed to Her Grandson

on Her Deathbed

Eddington Smith never revealed his grandmother’s secret until he, too, was at death’sdoor. Then he shared it with the local historian,and—as they say—one thing led to another.

The secret has outlived the statute of limitations.

—JMQ

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When Pickax was named the county seat—because of its central location—it was only a hamlet, but a building boom started almost overnight. The blacksmith, who made nails as well as horseshoes, could hardly keep up with the demand as ambitious settlers built dwellings and shops. Then one day he was kicked in the head by a horse and died on the spot. There was panic in Pickax! No blacksmith! No nails!

The next day, by a strange coincidence, a stranger walked into town—a big brawny man carrying a stick over his shoulder with a bundle tied on the end. He wore his hair longer than was the custom in Moose County, and at first he was viewed with suspicion. When he said he was a blacksmith, however, the townfolk changed their attitude.

Could he make nails?

Yes, he could make nails.

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Lilian Jackson Braun What was his name?

John.

John what?

He said, “Just John. That’s all the name you need to make nails.”

This was somewhat irregular, but they needed nails, so the local officials put their heads together and listed him on the town rolls as John B. Smith, the middle initial standing for “Black”.

When Longfellow wrote “The smith a mighty man is he,” he might have been writing about John B. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with large and sinewy hands, and his muscles were strong as iron bands. No one dared criticize his long hair. Furthermore, he was twenty-two and good-looking, and all the young women in town were after him.

It was not long before he married Emma, who could read and write. They had six children, although only three reached adulthood—not an unusual situation in those days. He built them a house of quarry stone with a front of feldspar that sparkled like diamonds on a sunny day. It was much admired by the other settlers, who liked novelty.

The smithy was in the backyard, and there John worked industriously, turning out tools, wagon wheels, cookpots, horseshoes, and nails. He was a good provider and went to chapel with his family twice a week. Emma was the envy of most women in town.

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