Nick Taylor and Barbara Nevins Taylor
Discovering the Upper Midwest took us across the Menominee River into Wisconsin. After we left Iron Mountain, we had Wisconsin 70 West pretty much to ourselves. It carried us through state and national forests that we had no idea existed.
We discovered that the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest has more than 1.5 million acres.
Glimmering lakes punctuated the forest greenery.
We had chosen the Upper Midwest route that would lead us to Rush City, Minnesota, but by the middle of the afternoon, halfway across Wisconsin, we were hungry. In a tiny berg called Fifield, we spied a sign that pointed us left along some railroad tracks. A couple of blocks later we pulled up in front of the Kountry Kafe.
A stocky fellow at the counter was the only other customer. He was eating his lunch and laughing along with Mike & Molly playing on a wall monitor.
We asked him what was good. Taking his advice, we ordered hamburgers. We told him we drove from New York and that the beautiful forests were a big surprise. “Yeah, different from New York, ” he said. “I was on Long Island back when I drove a truck to deliver windows for a company here.”
We told him that we lived in Manhattan and his eyes brightened with interest. “Can I ask you all a question?” he said after we started eating. “You don’t have to answer.” Barbara said, “It’s fine. We’re happy to talk with you.”
That was true. Part of our trip was about reacquainting with the America outside New York City, and we had fallen in love all over again. Like immigrant new comers, we embraced its beauty and marveled at how different it felt from the city, in a good way.
And like the journalists we are, perplexed by the divisions in the country, we took every chance we got to talk to store owners, bartenders, and anybody else. We wanted to understand why red staters feel the way they do, angry at government and wanting to be left alone to solve problems their own way. Partly, we thought, it’s an urban-rural divide. In cities you can’t have it all your own way, you’d mow people down just walking on the sidewalk. The density makes you realize how interdependent we all are.
Our counter-mate, Max Marvin, jumped into it, “Are you Democrats, liberals?” he asked. I felt us both thinking how to respond. Barbara went first. “Yes,” she said, “but I believe in fairness, not necessarily party labels. Nick may tell you something else.”
I put down my hamburger and said, “I’m a Democrat, no question about it.” He was quick with his next question, “Do you think government should tell us how to live our lives?” That got me going, given the leaked but still unissued Roe v. Wade decision. I said, “Well, it looks like some governments are going to be telling women how to live theirs, and conservatives are fine with it.”
The questions kept coming. “What do you think of Trump?” he asked. Barbara didn’t hesitate. “I knew Donald Trump in the ’80’s and ’90’s when I covered him in New York. He’s a con man, out only for himself. He hasn’t changed except that he became more successful at it. It’s amazing to me that millions of people believe his lies. But I have to give him credit for tapping into the discomfort and alienation of so many Americans.”
He sat back on his stool and said, “You knew Trump?” Barbara shook her head yes. It turned out that Max had served in Desert Storm and was wounded. He now receives disability services through the Veteran’s Administration.
But he wanted to talk politics. “Don’t you think if Trump were still president, Putin would never have invaded Ukraine. I think Putin was afraid of Trump,” he said, answering his own question. Barbara didn’t hold back. “Are you kidding? Putin manipulated Trump.” But again, he was still pushing. “Look what’s happened to gas prices. Don’t you think we should open more lands to drilling? There’s too much government regulation and interference.”
Without pausing, he went on to guns and this was after the massacre in Uvalde, Texas, where 19 children and two teachers were killed.
He wanted to know if a robber came into the cafe with a gun, wouldn’t we want him to have a gun. Barbara and I began talking at the same time. We explained the difference between this relatively remote community and our neighborhood in the Village, where it would be dangerous for people to walk around with guns. “Well,” he said. “What if those teachers in Uvalde had guns? Don’t you think that would have made a difference?” Barbara shook her head. “I don’t know about that. But I do know that I’m a teacher and I don’t want a gun, or guns in my classroom.”
“This is so good to talk like this without yelling,” he said. “I have a good friend who is a Democrat and we end up screaming at each other. It’s nice to have a real conversation,” he said.
We went on back and forth for awhile, finally shaking hands and agreeing to disagree as we said goodbye and got back on the road. We talked about Max as we continued west, passing lakes and anglers hauling boats.
Here was a man who lived close to beautiful state and national forests maintained by the government. He received government services, but resented the government rules and regulations that make it possible for him to benefit. We didn’t get closer to understanding.
The forest gave way to farmland as we talked.
We crossed the St. Croix River into Minnesota and Rush City was just a few miles farther, about sixty miles due north of Minneapolis-Saint Paul. We chose Rush City, population just over 3,000, because it was on the way to Fargo, North Dakota, and had a hotel we found online that looked interesting.
The Grant House Hotel, a squarish brick building, has been around since 1896. Investors bought and took it out of bankruptcy in 2020, and restored it as a period piece that harked back to its origins. There are public rooms, but no staff, at least when we were there. Superior Stays Minnesota runs it as an airbnb. They emailed us codes for the front door and our Room 5, aka the Von Perske.
The place was comfortable and charming and the town itself reminded us of a place in one of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher novels. The crossroads seemed like the heart of the town.
Rush City in the 1880’s was an important milling town that processed wheat grown in the area. Now the big flour mill is a grim reminder of more prosperous days. Ardent Mills shut it down in 2020.
We had arrived in Rush City late and ready for dinner. The restaurant in the hotel isn’t open, but management sent us two suggestions: the Bulrush Golf Club and Fiesta Cancun. Bulrush was a short drive, and one look sent us back to town and the Fiesta Cancun, a Mexican place that was an easy walk from the hotel. And what a happy surprise: the family-run place serves great food and is fun as its TikTok video, posted on Facebook, shows.
@fiestacancun21 #fiestacancunmn #mexicanrestaurant #mexicanfood #margarita #mariscos #tequila #goodfood #minnesota #fajitas #burritos #quesadillas #goodfood
Leaving the next morning, we encountered the only other guests, a man who’d grown up in Rush City and his partner. The Rush Citian told Nick he remembered the hotel in decay and locals said it was haunted. And he believed it when they came in at two the other morning and found a bat flying around the first floor lounge. Superior Stays immediately sent someone to deal with it.
But beyond the bat, Nick asked, “What’s there to do here at two in morning?” “Oh,” he said, “we were hanging out with my parents.”
Rush City was a nice one-night stop. Leaving, we asked at the gas station — $4.74 a gallon for regular — for a place to eat breakfast.
The customers and clerks said, just go straight to Pine City. Straight was beyond us. We made a wrong turn and meandered through beautiful farmland to downtown Pine City, where we found Nicoll’s Cafe.
Next stop Fargo, North Dakota.
We wanted to go to Fargo because for Barbara it had a romantic pull. As a kid she’d seen Westerns and TV shows featuring Fargo. Nick was more intrigued with the connection to the Coen Brothers‘ movie with its famous wood chipper scene. The city is right across the line from Moorehead, Minnesota. It’s the largest city in North Dakota with around 125,000 people, or roughly the population of a few New York City neighborhoods. That’s 20,000 or so more than the 2010 census counted. It’s growing fast because a lot of young people who came to college in Fargo or Moorehead decided to settle. It also has an artsy community and a restored downtown.
We felt happy to find the Jasper Hotel. It wasn’t one of the roadside cookie-cutters we find so dispiriting but always come up first on Booking.com, expedia.com and the other travel bundling sites.
The name comes from Jasper B. Chapin, the so-called Father of Fargo, but it’s a spanking new hotel and our room had floor to ceiling windows looking out over the town. Barbara had spotted a hairdresser, Salon 3/5, across from the hotel and made an appointment with Ryan Benz to get a wash and blow-dry. He and his daughter share the salon and he talked about the generational contrast in what their clients wanted. He turned out to be a talented professional who had studied in France, just what Barbara wanted.
With nice hair, it was time for drinks in the hotel lounge.
We were sipping our drinks when we noticed a commotion just outside. A man with a beard and long hair who looked to be in his thirties was busy chalking something on the sidewalk. We went to the window to have a look. The words, written to be read from the hotel, were “TRUTH IS NOT THE OPINION OF THE POWERFUL.” Nearby, he had chalked something about free speech and, in a couple of places, “Let PK play.”
Once the police arrived, P.K. disappeared.
It turned out that PK was a guitar player — a very good one, according to the Jasper’s director of rooms Alycia Bilbrey — who liked to play outside the hotel. The problem was that he liked to play at one and two in the morning, and he liked to play loud. Hotel guests and the condo owners on the floors above were not amused but lately, I’m told, PK has moved on.
Sadly for us, the hotel restaurant Rosewild was closed the night we were there. It features farm-to-table North Dakotan fare with a Nordic influence and we were looking forward to it. But we decided to eat in the lounge. We shared a white fish dip with delicious dark bread and Nick had a burger. Barbara enjoyed a lovely risotto with barley, edamame and fried mushrooms.
The next day we wandered around downtown.
We stopped in Stabo Scandinavian Imports on Broadway and browsed the rich array of interesting things from Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Finland.
We mentioned to a woman working there that we were visiting for the first time, and that a friend loved the Norwegian influence in the city because his mom’s family was from Norway. She laughed and said, “Everybody’s mother here has some Norwegian.”
We didn’t buy anything from Norway, but we did buy a Swedish Smorgasbord cookbook.
When we got back to the hotel we turned on CNN and learned that Yellowstone National Park was closed at least till Wednesday. Yellowstone River flooding had washed out roads and triggered rock slides over others.
We had a reservation at Yellowstone’s Old Faithful Inn for Thursday, but the video told us that wasn’t likely to happen.
We jumped online and started making plans and then we headed across the state to Medora, a town in the heart of North Dakota’s badlands.
And that became one of our favorite stops on the journey. More about that coming up.
And in case you missed it read about our journey to Iron Mountain, Michigan were we discovered Nick’s rich history.
