East Ender

I’m a Red Wing east ender.

I now live in another part of town but will always consider myself an east ender. When I was growing up, kids identified their neighborhoods with the closest elementary school. East end had Colvill, central Red Wing had Washington (and Central High), the south end had Hancock, and the west end had Jefferson.

Sunnyside, the newest school then, was situated between Hancock and Jefferson due to housing development in that area – sort of southwest Red Wing. Burnside school was essentially the far west, more rural. There were other neighborhood names but for kids, the school you attended was the easiest way to identify your territory.

I could get some argument on this but to me the east end is mainly anything east of Plum St. between Barn Bluff and the river and Sorin’s Bluff on the south, dissected by Seventh St. Technically, the east-west divide is Bluff St. where the numbered cross streets take on the directional designator east or west (such as East Seventh or West Seventh). But kids all the way over to Plum St. attended Colvill School, so I include that area. We claimed the bluffs as part of our territory because they were our playgrounds. East end terminated where Red Wing ended – just past the Training School (now Minnesota Correctional Facility – Red Wing).

Some of the other landmarks in the east end include Memorial Park (on Sorin’s Bluff), Colvill Park, Colvill School (now Colvill Family Center), and the Northern States Power plant (now the Excel Energy Generating Plant). It was also home to Paton’s Grocery, Hanson Mower Service, Sylvander Heating, East End Floral, and the Sterling Motel (Days Inn now). There are more, including businesses on Plum St., but these are the ones I remember most.

I grew up in an old farmhouse on the Sorin’s Bluff side of East Seventh St., about halfway between Plum St. and Colvill Park. My folks bought it for about $7,000 in 1952. We knew it had been a farm because the garage was an old barn with a dirt floor and hay loft. In fact, we referred to it as “the barn.” It was later replaced by a two-car garage, an achievement for my dad who by then was resigned to the fact that he would never get his place in the country.

There were some small, mostly buried, building foundations in the back yard that were probably part of a chicken coop and pig shed. We were reminded of them when we tripped on a cement edge. The farm must have been a self-sustaining operation. It might have been one of the many along that street with a cow or two that were led up the “cow path” to the top of Sorin’s bluff to graze.

From Plum St. east, Seventh St. served as Hwy. 61 until I was about 10 so we had a lot of traffic. I could easily hear the big trucks from my bedroom, the upstairs half-bath. The toilet and sink were shared by my three brothers but at least I had my own room. Sort of. We had some nice visits. We had a direct view of the NSP plant and Barn Bluff across the street. Sorin’s Bluff (we just called it Memorial or “amorial”) was attached to our back yard so we had direct access to year-round adventure.

Since the east end was long and narrow, you needed a bike to get most places. But getting to Colvill Park for us was a breeze compared to the distance other kids in town had to travel. We fished, played on the playground equipment, and swam in the pool. My mother was only too happy to give each of us kids $3 to buy a summer pool pass. The original entrance to Colvill Park was a steep street straight down from Seventh that led directly to the train overpass. Just a block before that entrance was Wilkinson St. where all of the Johnson kids took the obligatory piano lessons from Mrs. Hauke, who lived in one of the few remaining Quonset huts built in that area as low-income housing right after WWII.

All of my Colvill School teachers were women and three of them never married. I think they were the last of the era of women teachers who dedicated their entire lives to education. I learned to read from Luella Pfeffer, my first-grade teacher who lived across the street.

I played basketball in the elementary school league and Colvill’s main rival was Hancock. We could beat them once in awhile. But we didn’t stand a chance against any of the other schools. We barely had five players. Hancock was much the same.

Parts of the east end have consistently had the stigma of being the roughest in town. But those areas have also been a place to start for many who couldn’t find affordable housing elsewhere in town. Most towns have an area like that.

Red Wing’s neighborhoods have changed since I was young. Colvill, Hancock, Jefferson, and Washington schools have all closed. I suppose it’s necessary with a shrinking population of students. They’re bused everywhere now. The concept of “grade school” really doesn’t exist anymore, at least not the K-6 kind that I remember.

But even with all the changes, it’s still east end to me. I wonder what kids in that area call it now.