Reminiscences of Pioneer Days in St. Paul: A Collection of Articles Written for and Published in the Daily Pioneer Press

In Short

This collection presents a series of journalistic snapshots documenting the development of St. Paul, Minnesota, during the mid-nineteenth century. Originally composed for the Daily Pioneer Press, these articles focus on the practical realities of pioneer life: the frantic, primitive machinery of early newspapers, the devastating fires that repeatedly leveled the town’s commercial center, the local culture of amateur theaters, and the profound impact of the Civil War and the Sioux Uprising on a small frontier community. It remains a vital primary record of how a settlement transformed into a city.

The Story

The narrative arc begins in the late 1840s and 1850s, a time when St. Paul existed as a nascent outpost where the arrival of a river steamer dictated the rhythm of the news. We are introduced to a world of "hand pressmen" and "printer’s devils," where information moved only as fast as a boat could travel, and the absence of telegraphic connectivity meant that major national events, such as the completion of the Atlantic cable, were celebrated days after they occurred. The author, Frank Moore, serves as our guide, having arrived as a boy in 1858 to work in the composing rooms of the Minnesotian.

As the town grows, the story shifts from the novelty of early settlement to the harsh demands of civic maintenance. We see the city through its fires—the burning of the Rice House and the Great Fire of 1860—which serve as dramatic turning points that force the town to organize its first volunteer fire brigades. These disasters illustrate the fragility of early wooden architecture against the "fiery element," highlighting the persistent struggle of citizens to preserve their property and infrastructure.

The middle section of the book tracks the looming shadow of the Civil War and the localized terror of the Sioux Uprising. The narrative here captures the intense, almost desperate patriotism of the frontier, where newspapers scrambled to fill vacancies as printers enlisted for the front, and where the community grappled with the news of Union defeats and the tragic assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Alongside this, the author provides a harrowing look at the aftermath of the Sioux conflict, detailing the execution of prisoners and the somber reality of a town forced to reconcile its expansion with the displacement and violence inflicted upon the Dakota people.

The arc concludes by looking back at the cultural markers of the era—the rise of amusement halls and the arrival of "royal" visitors like the eccentric Coal Oil Johnny. Throughout, the author balances these local anecdotes with reflections on the rapid technological strides that rendered the work of his youth obsolete. The story ends on a note of continuity: the merger of the Press and the Pioneer, and the career of the author himself, whose life became inextricably linked to the press that chronicled the city's rise.

How It Unfolds

The mechanical infancy The narrative opens with a comparison between the laborious, hand-cranked printing processes of the 1850s and the modern efficiency of web-perfecting presses. It establishes the newspaper office as the central nervous system of the town, where "one pressman, five or six compositors, and two editors" managed the flow of information.

The struggle for connection The book tracks the city's painful isolation, describing the difficulty of obtaining telegraphic news before the installation of reliable lines. It details the fierce rivalries between early papers like the Pioneer and the Press as they jockeyed for access to news dispatches.

A city of embers The text turns to the frequent, destructive fires that defined early urban life in St. Paul. These accounts provide a detailed catalogue of hotel ruins and the superhuman efforts of volunteer firemen to prevent the total loss of the commercial district.

The shadow of conflict The middle chapters examine the dual pressures of the Civil War and the frontier wars, showcasing the intense emotional toll on the community. It presents vivid, often somber descriptions of legislative sessions and the collective mourning of a town during the darkest days of the 1860s.

Cultural and professional maturation The final movement describes the transition from temporary halls to established theaters and opera houses. It concludes with biographical sketches of the "remarkable" printers who turned the city's presses, framing the book as both a history of a town and a tribute to a vanished trade.

The People

Frank Moore acts as the observer, an earnest participant whose life mirrors the development of St. Paul from a boy carrying water from a spring to a veteran journalist. His perspective is grounded in his reverence for the "old-timers" who built the city’s foundations. James M. Goodhue is the mythic ancestor of the local press, representing the era of the hand press and the singular editor. Governors Ramsey and Marshall appear as the embodiments of civic duty; Marshall is portrayed as a man of deep, tearful empathy for the Union cause, while Ramsey provides the grim, official rhetoric concerning the Sioux conflict. Charles R. Stuart, the "most remarkable compositor," serves as the book's folk hero of labor, a man whose superhuman speed at the typesetter's case fascinates the public as much as any theater performance. Finally, figures like the mysterious "Coal Oil Johnny" and the various chiefs of the fire department represent the colorful, transient, and communal nature of the frontier, where royalty and laborer alike were subject to the whims of a rapidly changing landscape.

In Its Own Voice

The author describes the grueling, human-centered labor of the early printing rooms:

It would take 600 hand presses, 600 hand pressmen and 600 boys three hours to print the edition, and as there were no means of stereotyping in those days the forms would have to be set up 600 times.

The author reflects on the intense, often brutal reality of life on the frontier:

Infants hewn into bloody chips of flesh or torn untimely from the womb of the murdered mother, and in cruel mockery cast in fragments on her pulseless and bleeding breast; rape joined to murder in one awful tragedy.

What It's Really About

This book is a meditation on the concept of "pioneer progress." It asks what is lost and what is gained when a loose collection of settlers becomes an organized city. It balances the nostalgia for the "olden time"—the romantic image of the volunteer fire brigade and the heroic compositor—against the harsh, unvarnished realities of the nineteenth century: the frequency of fire, the volatility of politics, and the violent clash of cultures on the frontier. It is ultimately about the power of the press to anchor a community, arguing that the history of a town is best understood through the daily, often messy, labor required to record it.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in Americana or the history of journalism will find this collection particularly rewarding. It offers a rare, ground-level view of how a city is constructed, not just through grand legislative acts, but through the building of hotels, the staging of plays, and the daily grind of the newsroom. The tone is deeply authentic; it feels like sitting across from a sharp-witted elder who remembers the exact location of the town's first spring and the faces of the men who fought the fires.

However, readers should be prepared for the book's period attitudes. The author’s language concerning the Sioux Uprising reflects the intense, one-sided anxieties of his time, and the accounts of the conflict are graphic and unabashedly biased. These passages are difficult but essential for understanding the mindset of mid-century frontier settlers. The writing is occasionally anecdotal and structurally loose, typical of newspaper serials of the day. Yet, for those willing to navigate these challenges, the book rewards with a vivid, tactile sense of place. It leaves you with an appreciation for the sheer grit required to maintain a civilized life on the edge of the wilderness, and a lasting image of a time when the world was smaller, but the challenges of building a future were infinitely larger.