Noteworthy: The Depot

While in Minneapolis I stayed at the Renaissance Hotel at The Depot. The last train left in 1971, but The Depot still stands today as a hotel complex. The Depot fluttered with activity during the late 1800s when Minneapolis was a rapidly growing city. At the peak of activity in 1920, the prosperous Depot was bustling with 29 trains departing daily. In 1971, the Milwaukee Road terminated rail service to Minneapolis and converted the building into office use. In 1978, the Minnesota Historical Society placed the Depot and the nearby freight house on the National Register of Historic Places.
At The Depot we were able to step back in time by viewing train memorabilia. Throughout the hotel were white statues "ghosts" that represent the many travelers who walked The Depot halls throughout history. Aunt Dixie and I got our pictures taken by a few of the "ghosts." I have included their stories below.

The Shoe Shine-

Timothy smiles as he slides his cloth over the fine shoe. The soft sound of his work mingles with those of the station. Although he has never spoken to the shoe’s owner, the man is a regular who Timothy has silently dubbed “Mr. Star” after the folded newspaper the man always reads after asking kindly for “Just a buff”. Timothy has never seen “Mr. Star” exit or board a train, yet he appears every Friday at 10:05 a.m. for Timothy’s services. Sometimes Timothy imagines the gentleman is an important businessman traveling to Minneapolis from Chicago to confirm his enterprise is running smoothly; or perhaps he is a local lawyer or doctor, enjoying the trains and the bustle of the station as he reads his morning paper. Nonetheless, Timothy is here, every time, to give him “just a buff” and receive a nickel in return – for he’s a pretty good businessman himself.

The Sailor-
Norman Soley was a strong, young Norwegian lad. Having been orphaned at a young age, he grew up and spent much of his time at the Earle Brown Farm in Brooklyn Center, Minnesota, shoeing the Clydesdales. Each year he proudly watched the Clydesdales march down Hennepin Avenue during the annual Aquatennial Parade as he longed for adventures unknown.
In 1914, his day had come. As a newly enlisted sailor, Norman knew the locomotive he waited for would take him further than those behemoth studs ever could. While he stood on the platform, he contemplated the day when he would return to his sweet Lenore and raise his family on the banks of Lake Minnetonka.
After a blessed life, Norman died in December of 1995 at the age of 98.