Walter Purdy

Walter Purdy

by Mari Olson

Cultural consultation by Chenel Sanders and Vas Littlecrow Wojtanowicz

"Mari Olson’s heart pounding narrative brings to life the story of Walter Purdy. This nearly forgotten
Black barber's gripping tale of heroism is a compelling peek into the horrors of the Sauk Rapids
tornado and the challenge of the era’s racial politics." -- Vas Littlecrow Wojtanowicz

Quite a commotion started brewing outside the Grand Central Hotel. I finished brushing my barber chair to get it ready for the next client, then grabbed my overcoat to investigate. I asked the first person I saw, a young lady, what was going on.

“How dare you address me!”, she snapped. Immediately a well dressed man joined her side.

“They freed them slaves now they are walking around with no manners bothering us fine folk” he said to the young lady.

“I was born free sir, my Momma and my Poppa were freed and given land before 1840 rolled around. And I’m sure you will find my manners top notch “ I said.

“Well, be gone with you, a tornado just ripped through Sauk Rapids and Rice Station. It tore the town to bits. This is no time for your tomfoolery” said the man.

My stomach knotted and my heart raced. Not because of the way they treated me though, I am used to that. Knowing a town’s torn up and they got no way to care for each other. My fine woolen suit wasn’t the only reason for sweat on my brow. I could hear my Momma in my head.

“Skillets,” she would say, “now you know you were born fortunate. As long as you got a strong body and food in your belly, you must always help.”

Don’t know how I got the nickname Skillets but it sure stuck in my family. I made my way to the front of the crowd where the loud man I’ve been hearing is preaching from his carriage. He was not a well dressed man, his suit coat was worn and starting to fray. Spencer Greer is his name. Spencer launched into the tale again adding more flourishes and taking too much pleasure in the telling.

Spencer bellowed “ The tornado took out the whole town and Rice Station too. If anyone survived, woe be onto their soul. A tornado will wipe the land clean and double back to do it again. It will toss livestock in the air and kill them upon landing. Oh, the things I have seen and the horrors I have witnessed.”

“Let's go, let's get help and supplies. They need us.” I said. I looked for faces welcoming the idea and none were found.

The local preacher piped up “We will have a collection plate for them at tonight’s service, and of course we will all pray for them.”

“They need to treat them wounds and stop their bleeding. A collection won’t do much if they die first.” I said. Knowing I was alone in my pursuits, I knew I had to find a fast rig. I know horses and I know what to look for.

There she is, sleek black with a blazing star on her forehead, nickering and tossing her head. I walked right up to the man in the single rig.

“I see you got a fast horse. I’ll pay you well if you can get me to Rice Station. I want to bring supplies for the suffering folk there. I said.

The man sucked his teeth and looked up to grab his thoughts. “I’ll take you as far as my horse will go. If the weather spooks her I’m turning around,” he said.

“Thank you sir, I’ll pay you kindly. My name is Walter, Walter Purdy. I’m a barber right there in the Grand Central Hotel,” I said.

“Names Stan Collins,” he said.

“I need supplies. Head to the druggist's shops. Both George Spencer and Martin Moliter right on Saint Germain,” I directed.

First stop was Spencer’s. I grabbed all but one of the Mitchell’s Court Plaster and a hefty supply of Witch Hazel Ointment.

"Hey, Hey, Hey,” said the clerk. “Put some of those back.”

“I’m fixin’ to bring them to Rice Station. The tornado tore through their town,” I explained.

"Well what if the tornado doubles back and comes here? A tornado doesn’t stop spinning till the first freeze. Two of each is what you get,” demanded the clerk.

No time to argue with him. I paid the clerk and headed to Martin Moliter’s.

“I need supplies for Rice Station, or what’s left of it after the tornado,” I told the clerk.

“Take what you need. I got a whole shelf of Dictman’s Arnica Court Plaster and more in the back,” said the eager clerk. “Here take the Continental Ointment and plenty of linen strips. I got boxes of Dalley’s pain extractor, take it all, no charge. Go, go.”

“One more stop” I told Stan as I loaded the rig. “Head to W. J. Huhn further down the street.”

I’ve known Joe Huhn for quite some time. He’s come by for a haircut a couple of times and seemed pretty pleased with it.

“Well now, Walter Purdy, what brings you here today?” Joe asked with a smile.

“I need supplies for Rice Station, the town’s been torn apart by the tornado,” I said.

“Tornado, you say? The roads out there are treacherous, and the wind is still shifting. You sure you want to head out in this weather?” Joe asked.

“I have to, folks need help, no time to wait,” I replied.

“Alright, take what you need, but be careful. Don’t let that storm catch you unprepared. And I’ll be needing a haircut when you come back.”

“Thank you kindly Joe, I knew I could count on you,” I replied. Stan was waiting right outside and helped me with the crates. “We’re done,” I said as I loaded the last box. “Now Stan, show me how fast your horse

can go.”

I was right about the horse. She was fast and spirited too. We held on tight as our buggy flew down the road. I kept my eyes peeled looking for any turnt weather or anyone in need of help.

As we were nearing Rice Station that horse threw a fit. She nearly dumped the rig. Stan backed up the rig and calmed her down. Our eyes were drawn to what spooked her. Halfway splatted onto the road was a dead horse.

“Take this tarp and throw it over the dead horse or my mare won’t calm. We will pick it up on the way back,” said Stan.

I did as Stan asked and we started off again.

“That must have been some storm to toss a full grown horse. I don’t know what we are riding into,” Stan muttered. I had nothing to say. I’ve never seen anything like this before. As we got closer to Rice Station, we started seeing boards, strips of cloth and bits scattered everywhere. I just hoped I could find a doctor and at least one building is left for him to work in.

As we got over the hill my heart was filled. Never a more beautiful building landed on my eyes. Rice Station Train Depot. It was surrounded by wreckage but it stood strong.

I grabbed a wooden box of supplies and made my way to the door. The door opened to eerie silence. Three men sat in chairs staring at the floor and not making a sound.

“I got supplies for the doctor,” my words sharply cut through the silence. The men looked right through me and didn’t respond.

“Where’s the doctor?” I asked again.

“Ain’t no doctor,” one man answered.

I noticed his black hair was slick with blood and it was starting to pool on his collar.

“I got supplies, I can treat you,” I said and got no response.

“I’m gonna wrap your head now and stop the bleeding.” Again he gave no response.

He winced as I carefully began to wrap his head but he didn’t protest.

“There you’re fixed up now,” I said reassuringly. He clasped my hand and looked me in the eyes. He said thank you without uttering a word. These men must be in utter shock.

Just then the door flew open and a wild eyed crazed lad stood in the frame. Struggling he forced the words between ragged breaths.

“The wedding party out on Schultz Farm. It’s bad, real bad. I need help.” The three men were jolted out of their stupor and leapt into action. They helped him into his chair and asked his name.

“My name’s Oscar Gaumlitz, it’s really bad ya gotta help. My whole family is there.”

“Doctor, you stay here and treat the lad, he’s got a good gash in his head,” one of the men shouted.

There was no time to correct him before he bolted out the door. I heard the horses as Stan and the men rode off. I got right to work on that boy. I wrapped his head tight andnoticed the gash on his shoulder. It was deep and needed to be cleaned to keep from infection. I needed boiled water to clean it properly. I set right to work. I put a tin tray filled with water between two kerosene lamps. It didn't take long at all for it to warm right up. I dipped the linen strips in it and cleaned the wound before bandaging it.

“There now, this will heal,” I told the boy. More people trickled in and I treated them too. I heard the horses return and the door again flew open.

“Clear a table, she’s hurt real bad,” the men shouted.

They laid an angelic young lass down. The sweet expression on her face looked like she was just peacefully asleep. Her skin was very pale and barely a scrap of her bright calico dress was left on her body. As I checked her over I saw that her left leg was twisted three times around and grotesquely hung from her body.

“Ah miss, I don’t know how to treat that. Poor young thing all I can do is wait for a doctor.”

“Oscar, grab my woolen overcoat and cover this young lady, at least we can give her modesty back.”

“Hello, kind sir,” said the sweetest voice. I about jumped out of my skin hearing her speak. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Hello lass, What’s your name?” I replied.

“I’m Loisa Schultz. My sister is getting married today. I must get back to it. I have so much to do. I gotta…” she trailed off and sleep overcame her.

That door opened again and standing in its frame was a distinguished looking man. His clothes were well made but heavy with the dirt and grime that seemed to be everywhere.

“I’m Doctor Addison Rathbun. Who needs help?” he asked.

“This girl here, she's got a twisted leg and she is as pale as porcelain” I answered.

As doctor Rathbun was treating her, she woke again.

“Oh hello Doctor Rathbun, are you coming to the wedding today?” asked sweet Loisa.

“Of course I am. Now you rest and we will get this taken care of,” he said as he gave her a calm, warming smile. Loisa was back asleep in no time.

The doctor moved around the room checking the folk I had treated.

“Where did you take your training? You have done fine work” Doctor Rathbun asked me.

“I’m a barber. No doctor training other than my brothers and I fixing on each other,” I answered. The Doctor seemed quite surprised by this.

“How’s the girl? Will she walk again?” I asked.

“There’s nothing more I can do for her. I gave her morphine to help her sleep. She won’t be with us for long,” Doctor Rathbun told me.

I felt dejected, my chest tightened with sorrow and a wave of helplessness washed over me. I had an aching sense that there must be more I could do if only I knew how. The fever of excitement left me. I found myself powerless and useless standing in this dimly lit train station.

Just then Stan opened the door. “I gotta get the horse back,” he said.

I gotta admit I was a bit relieved to be leaving. We rode back in silence. Neither one of us wanted to relive what we had seen today.

A couple days later Theodore Baldwin walked into my Barber shop.

“Theo, good to see you. Ain’t it early for a haircut? You were just here a week ago.”

“I don’t need a haircut, I’ve got something to show you. You’ve got your picture in the Saint Paul Globe,” he said excitedly.

“My picture? What on earth for?”

“Says here you are an outright hero. Says you doctored the folks in Rice Station before any help showed up.”

“I don’t feel like a hero. I don’t know what else I could have done but it didn’t feel enough. Doctor Rathbun was the hero. He was able to give every patient a calm smile no matter how dire their circumstance. And he stayed long after I left.”

“Well in my book you are a hero and I’m glad to know ya. I gotta get going but I’ll be back when it’s time for a haircut. Here, keep the paper. You’ll want to read it,” said Theo.

“Thanks Theo, you take care now,” I said.

I sat right down at my desk and read that article. I wondered where they got that drawing of me. I guess it’s nice to have an article written about me but I can’t get it to sit right. I brought supplies for the doctor. I only doctored cause there wasn’t one.

I still clipped the article and sent it by post to my momma in Maryland. I want her to know her words stuck with me. I want to make my momma proud.