Logging With Dexter

Spencer Sandbottom, Pelican Lake Township

Most folks back in the late 1800’s knew it took a hearty set of muscles to work as a logger. “Always has and always will,” they’d say. And most knew that when the logging was good, the pay was good too.

So, it wasn’t unusual for young folks looking to fill their wallets to set their sights on getting in with a good logging company. Some were born loggers; big and burly, sturdy and steady, from the day they took their first step. Lucky fellers, those.

Some, though, just didn’t have that burly nature. Nope, they had to build themselves into it if they wanted to grab hold of the good logging work when they got older. Back then, a guy’d have to figure out his own bulking-up plan. No gyms or trainers or any of that fancy stuff in those days, no sir!

But, there was something. Yep, spurred on by their son, Dexter’s dream of becoming a great logger, Myrtle and Arvid Spangnecker vowed to devise a way the three of them could get rich off logging whether little Dexter ever really logged or not. They suggested he ride a wide mule, a logging mule, in and out of the forest daily, pulling the skidder. They discovered that the mule was so effective, they rented out his muscle-building ride for $.10 a ride or $.25 for 2 rides.

Worried about his upper body strength though, Dexter helped Bertha, mother of 10, dip the pig in boiling water and lift that pig on the pulley for shaving. This became so successful that they made money by selling three pulls for $.25.

But Dexter talked too much, so they locked him in the chicken coop to reinforce his mental agility by making him holler to get out. He was so used to talking that his yell brought Paul Bunyan himself to his rescue.