Growing up, my least favorite subject in school was always history. I could chalk it up to a series of teachers who I found dry at the very least, tyrannical at worst. But I'm sure more than anything, it was the arrogance of youth that cultivated a distaste for high school history. I couldn't imagine what relevance laissez-faire had to my life, and there were too many names and dates to try and store in a brain that was overloaded with the minutiae of a teenage existence.
The older I get, the more I pick biographies over the most current fiction releases at the bookstore and the library. Steve and I are engrossed by The History Channel and The National Geographic Channel when we're in front of the television. In my forties, I finally understand how important and relevant history is to my everyday existence.
Recently, I was contacted by a publisher who asked me if I would be so kind as to mention a book for them. They were generous enough to send me a copy of Historic Photos of St. Paul, by Steve Trimble, for my efforts. The coffee table book arrived as promised, filled with 200 black and white images documenting the history of our capitol city. I've pored over it for hours, and have shared it with older friends and relatives who walked the streets of St. Paul decades before I landed in Minnesota.
When I moved to the Twin Cities ten years ago, I had a picture in my mind of two downtown areas on either side of the Mississippi River a stones throw away from each other. In reality, the two downtowns are ten miles apart and are as different as night and day. Minneapolis is Neiman Marcus, five star dining and trendy nightclubs. St. Paul is the independent shops of Grand Avenue, Mickey's Diner, and a sidewalk that rolls up each evening. St. Paul is a true blue collar town, and the side of the city I've always identified with the most. I'm out of my league on the west side of town, but in St. Paul I'm among friends.
Historic Photos of St. Paul is filled with the rich, candid snapshots that appear to have been salvaged from the basements and attics and cedar chests of the city's denizens. Mr. Trimble keeps the captions sparse yet descriptive, allowing the photos and the reader's memory to tell the story. I loved the pictures of my favorite haunts, especially the Como Conservatory. The glass enclosed building is shown in a photo from 1930-almost eighty years ago-with young trees surrounding it, and no sign of the Japanese Garden just outside it's front door. Still, there are crowds of people there, just as there are on any given weekend in the 21st century. Another compelling image is one of workers at the Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing company cranking out cellulose tape, known now as the ubiquitous Scotch Tape. Almost one hundred years after the inception of the company, none of us can escape the influence of 3M in our everyday existence.
Even if you're not a Minnesotan, there's a voyeuristic pleasure in gazing over 130 years of history in a Midwestern city. This book would make an ideal gift for history buffs and St. Paul natives. It can be found in booksellers around the Cities, as well as in limited quantity on Amazon. I was fascinated to learn that the author, Mr. Trimble, is the founder of the Minnesota Cookbook Archives. A man after my own heart!