history1

THE HISTORY OF ST. JAMES AS PUBLISH IN THE PARISH CENTENNIAL BOOK IN 1954.

"One Hundred Years Jacobs Prairie"

The history of Jacobs Prairie is closely bound up with the immigration of the German settlers to Stearns county. Of the claims these first pioneers made, those around St. James Parish are of the earliest. The easiest course to follow being that of the waterways, they came in 1854 to the prairie of open land and good Soil along the Sank river via the Mississippi. Most of them came at the urging of the Rev. Francis Pierz, who having come to do missionary work among the Indians, first made known the possibilities of Central Minnesota to the people of Austria and Germany. His notices went not only to the motherland, but were also read by German immigrants in other parts of the United States. Those first to arrive were for the most part from German settlements in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa.

Lured by Father Pierz' description in the German Catholic newspaper, Der Wahrheitsfreund, of this "land flowing with milk and honey," fifty families came to locate in what the missioner considered the best portions of his mission field, the prairie along the Sauk river.[1] What is today Jacobs Prairie must have first been seen by these German settlers.

The first existing record of Father Pierz' visiting these settlers is the first Holy Mass offered at St. Joseph, called Clinton in the early days, on October 22, 1854.[2] It seems reasonable to assume that he would have also visited and said Mass for the people of Jacobs Prairie on this same occasion since it was only a few miles distant. The tradition at Jacobs Prairie seems to bear this out, since it is believed that he said Mass there on three different dates beginning with the fall of 1854. The first was held at the home of Michael Fuchs, the second at that of the Jacobs Brothers, Nicholas and Theodore, and the third at Chris Koeh's place. The fourth Mass was offered at the farm of Michael Brixius.[3]

Judging from the letters which Father Pierz wrote to the Ludwig-Missionsverein [4] during this period, there seems to be very good evidence that he offered Mass at Jacobs Prairie in 1854. In his letter to the secretary of the Missionsverein on November 14, 1854, he mentions that the previous summer he had been ministering to the German immigrants at Sank Rapids.[5] By the next fall he tells that the Bishop of St. Paul had "strongly recommended that I care for the immigrant Germans along the Sank river who have come in such great number that they already fill four flourishing missions with four newly-built churches."[6]

It is strange that after these rather vague references in the first two years he should suddenly in a letter of June 25, 1856, speak of Jacobs Prairie as one of his old missions, while referring to Sauk Rapids and St. Cloud as his latest triumphs:

I have accumulated many fine and valuable tracts of land in my new mission fields of Sank Rapids and St. Cloud, where I have received, respectively, six and sixteen building lots in my name, which have a total value of more than $8,000. The day after I received the deeds for them I transferred my title of ownership to the Bishop's name as mission property of the Church. Then, in order to remove any suspicion of a tendency toward speculation on my part, I immediately sent the document to St. Paul. In my other two missions I received gifts of property from the parishioners; at St. Augusta one hundred joch,[7] and in St. Jacob ten acres of good land.[8]

In this passage we first meet Jacobs Prairie explicitly mentioned by the pioneer priest. Sank Rapids is known to have preceded the prairie settlement, but this young stalk of the Church soon died out to return only in later years. St. Augusta was quite certainly the last of the four to be cared for by Pierz. Whether the pairing of St. Jacob with the newborn would jeopardize its right of being among the firstborn is doubtful, for it is difficult to argue from the acquisition of land for a church back to the place and time of the first Mass. In spite of the lack of documentary evidence, there has long existed a living tradition that the oldest parish of the St. Cloud diocese east of the Mississippi is at Belle Prairie, while Jacobs Prairie holds that honor, at least in respect to having the first Mass, for that section of the diocese west of the Father of Waters.

With the arrival of the Benedictines at St. Cloud in May, 1856, the church, so carefully fathered by Father Pierz, received a new impetus. For the next ninety-eight years St. James Parish, Jacobs Prairie, would be under their care. In giving a list of the missions and what he found there, the first Benedictine to care for the prairie church, Rev. Bruno Riss, O.S.B., stated it very simply: "At St. James, also, a log chapel 16x20 or 24 stood finished."[9] This is a short but glowing tribute to the concern of the people of those first two years. At St. Joseph the chapel with a residence was still in the process of being built. Of the two mission stations, St. James was to receive the preference for a while, because of the unfinished state of the buildings at St. Joseph and because of the Know Nothing bigotry the monks met there. As Father Bruno succinctly put it:

At St. Joseph there was a log church and pastoral residence under construction. But a few turbulent spirits agitated against the expected monks and went so far as to send a petition to the Bishop of St. Paul begging him not to inflict the monks upon them and not to permit them to come to St. Joseph. In consequence the misguided hot-heads had no services until August.[1O]

To settle such a state of affairs and to get the life of his young church off to a zealous beginning Bishop Cretin of St. Paul summoned Rev. Francis X. Weninger, the famous Jesuit missionary, to conduct missions in the parishes of his vast diocese. Towards the end of June, 1856, the Jesuit arrived in Stearns county and opened a mission at St. Cloud. Missions at Sank Rapids, St. Augusta, St. James, St. Joseph, and Richmond followed. Father Bruno, who assisted Father Weninger, reported that during their three day stay at St. James they took lodgings at the home of Michael Brixius. While there they discovered that Father Pierz had claimed 160 acres for the church at St. Jacob "and in the opinion of men of that day had invested heavily to secure the claim, however, with a result as discouraging as the one just recorded, the claim was jumped and deemed first-rate booty."[11]

On the eve of the Feast of the Assumption as the two priests were finishing up the mission at Richmond, news came to Father Bruno from Prior Demetrius de Marogna the superior of the Benedictine community at St. Cloud, that he was immediately to take up residence at St. Joseph and from there care for the parishes at St. Jacob and Richmond.[12] Both men returned to St. Joseph that very night and celebrated the Assumption, 1856, at Father Bruno's new parish. The tragedy which followed their arrival in St. Joseph and the two years of suffering the immigrants were about to undergo can only fittingly be described by the pastor who led them through the plague.

The 15th (sic) of August, on which day P. Weninger preached a sermon in St. Joseph, was the beginning of a two years after-mission sent by Divine Providence. During the discourse of the missionary a heavy darkness suddenly set in, accompanied, as we thought, by a tremendous hailstorm, the clatter of which drowned the voice of the preacher. But it was something worse than hail stones, for when we left the church our eyes beheld nothing but greedy grasshoppers, which had darkened the sun and in their descent had struck so heavily upon the roof of the chapel.

This small, voracious, yet invincible monster had in a short time devastated all that grows and blooms upon the face of the earth. Within about two or three days the fields presented the appearance of having been newly plowed. Then an indescribable misery entered the homes of the poor settlers of Stearns county. The entire harvest was a dead loss for those settlers who had their abodes in the region during the previous year; those who had settled during the year of the famine had no crop to lose, as they had not planted any.

The first terrible winter was at hand. The few victuals that remained were soon consumed, prices rose enormously, because the nearest market was at St. Paul, and it required a full week to make a trip with an ox-team. Still hope did not die. What would man be without hope? Spring came; seed wheat stood at two dollars a bushel, but it was bought and sowed. But the new brood of grasshoppers suffered nothing to grow, except peas. Everything else became their prey. They found their way into the houses and destroyed what clothing they could reach. In the church not a thread of cloth could remain exposed, everything was locked up in presses. Even the priest at the altar was not secure from their attacks; before Mass the hoppers had to be swept off the altar. The priest had to dress hastily, place the altar cloths upon the altar and be careful to keep the Sacred Host covered with the paten, and at the elevation had to leave the pall upon the chalice. During the Mass the altar-boys were kept busy driving away the insolent insects with whips from the vestments of the priest.[13]

During the winter of 1856-57 the Rev. Alexius Roetzer, O.S.B., occasionally helped out at St. James. Together the two Benedictines watched and helped their flock who had based their hopes for survival on the harvest of the coming year. But in the second year of the plague the hoppers were as hungry as they had been in the first. Cattle died from scarcity of food and blood poisoning caused by the bites of the grasshoppers. They were so numerous that one worker hung his coat on a fence post while plowing a field; and when he returned to pick it up at noon, nothing remained but buttons. In May, 1857, a decisive step was taken to get rid of the pests. The four pastors of the county, Fathers Bruno, Cornelius, Clement, and Alexius, proposed to their congregations that they vow an annual procession on the feast of St. Ulric, July 4, and on that of St. Magnus, September 6, since these two saints were venerated in southern Germany as the special patrons of those afflicted as the settlers were. They made the vow, and as Father Bruno put it:

And behold, God heard us who were weak and helpless against such small insects. In the early days of June the young brood was ready for work; a brisk northwest wind set in and carried a whole cloud of the little fiends with it to other climes. Some weeks later we read in the papers that a multitude of hoppers had settled at Buffalo, N.Y., and that great numbers had fallen into Lake Erie. One week later a southwest breeze carried off the rest from our territory and we learnt that they subsequently afflicted the northeastern parts of Dakota and our neighbor Canada. We were saved.[14]

Two interesting incidents which Father Bruno records as having happened during the plague took place at Jacobs Prairie. The first is the story of the miraculous crop which came to a farmer with faith:

The spring of '57 came; the young brood of grasshoppers crept to the surface, but the old man ordered his sons to sow wheat and oats. The boys said, 'Father, this is in vain; the hoppers will not let anything grow. Let us have the seed.' But the old man insisted, 'No, boys, we will do our part and plant as usual. But let me tell you this; if God gives us a harvest we shall give one third to God and the Church; the second third shall be the part for the poor, while for ourselves we will reserve the balance. Now if the good God wishes to accept our gift He will permit it to grow.' And so it happened. It seemed as though the hoppers could not find this farm. The yield was about one half the usual crop, while other farmers had no crop whatever. Agreeable to his promise he delivered to me two thirds of the entire yield for distribution.[15]

The second incident Father Bruno records as happening during the plague at St. James was the saving of one of the monks' lives by the only chicken and egg left in Stearns county. Father Bruno gives a first hand account of it as follows:

The hoppers left us in 1857. Still fourteen months of misery was the general lot until the time of the next harvest. Father Clement, although a powerful man, succumbed under the pressure of this calamity. He was seized by typhoid, as physicians call it, but it was probably the result of endurance and starvation. For several weeks he was completely unconscious of his surroundings, etc. Light, but nutritious diet was prescribed for him, but we had no bread in the house, moreover no means to obtain it. The hens enjoyed the grasshopper banquet and perished in great numbers. The physician prescribed chicken soup and eggs. I canvassed the farms of the vicinity and finally succeeded in finding at St. James, one old hen and one egg. For the hen I paid $1, for the egg $.25, and after this I had no more materials for chicken soup . . . . God helped me in the emergency and my patient recovered.[16]

The German settlers did not shirk in fulfilling their vow. The votive processions on July 4 and September 6 were made as impressive as possible. It was arranged that the congregations of St. Cloud and St. Augusta should proceed on the road to St. Joseph until they reached the crossing of the Sauk river, at which point they were to be met by the people of St. Joseph, St. James, and Richmond. Here they offered solemn thanksgiving services under the sky. This was on July 4. Jacobs Prairie was designated for the September 6 pilgrimage.

In the years that followed the processions lost their importance and the people began to forget about their vow, but Divine Providence caught them up short in the 1870's when the hoppers returned in greater force than ever. The people increased their prayers; and in thanksgiving for their final deliverance from the plague, erected "Mary Help of Christians Chapel" a half mile east of Cold Spring.[17]

Grasshoppers and scarcity of food failed to stop the normal growth of the parish in its early years. New settlers were moving in at regular intervals. The early records of the parish yield such names as George Brunner, Michael Kellner and Simon Thull, who had settled west of the church property (section one of Wakefield Township) in what was called the Bavarian Settlement. To the southwest, toward what was later to be called Cold Spring, Marcus Maurin, Nicholas Jacoby, Peter Kaiser, Michael Witzman, John Theis, and John Waelter made claims. In the southeast section of the parish were Nicholas Kirsch, Michael Hansen, Peter Hansen, Michael Boos, Valentine Garding, Mathias Ahles, Pierre Thomey, and others. These and such families as Nicholas and Theodore Jacobs, Michael Brixius, Mathias Hansen, George Leither, Mathias Feien, George Scherer, Joseph Jonas, and Michael Fuchs were the early builders of the parish.

On August 5, 1856, the first recorded baptism was held at Jacobs Prairie. It was Anna Maria Brunner, the daughter of George Brunner and Mary Uleman. She had been born the previous day in a covered wagon in the Bavarian settlement, since no houses had yet been erected there. This first child of the settlement later became the wife of Christian Dreis, who was the village marshal of Cold Spring for over forty years.[18]

No sooner had the first trouble with the grasshoppers ended than there were new crises to be met. In 1858 the first log church was destroyed by fire, but another one was soon erected in its place under the guidance of the Rev. Clement Staub, O.S.B., who had taken over the parish in May, 1857. The new pastor ministered not only to the souls of the faithful, but to their bodies as well. In those early days when physicians were rare in the rural areas, it was a blessing if the priest could take care of the whole man. Father Clement has been described as follows:

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