Some Notes on Skogsbergh and Skogsbergh’s Point
I was interested in the reference, a few issues ago [Summer 1992], to the summer home of Erik August Skogsbergh on the West Arm of Lake Minnetonka near Saga Hill, which was known as Skogsberghs udde (Skogsbergh’s Point). This, of course, was more like a Chatauqua conference grounds, with Covenanters coming in large numbers from the Twin Cities via train and steamboat to mass meetings. Eventually, in 1901, the Fairview Covenant Church began to provide Sunday services for the many visitors (Skogsbergh loved company), as well as for the people who built or rented cottages nearby or had purchased small farms.
About six years ago, I went searching for the house with my father, my Uncle Albert, and my son Erik. My uncle is a member of the Fairview church and a fine amateur historian (at the age of 83!) of both the Covenant and Saga Hill. We found the home, and it was like stepping back in time, though the present owner has added a swimming pool, and the original acreage has been endlessly subdivided and over built. The large front porch topped by a domed turret (as seen in old photographs),is still there. Skogsbergh used to sit on that porch and admire his domain, as well as watch for guests or keep track of his children. The large, natural amphitheater where Mission Friend preachers (including Waldenström in 1903) held open-air meetings dominates to the east. Skogsbergh referred to it as the “Mulberry Arbor,” a sacred temple. One can almost still see the crowds of men, women, and children lining its banks, having feasted on food and fellowship.
To the west of the house, where a large mansion now intrudes, was Skogsbergh’s beloved orchard. He was particularly proud of his grapes and commented often (characteristically) that he loved to watch things grow. Most poignant of all, next to the house is a perfect circle of eight basswood trees that he planted in the 1890s — one for each of their children. (Eventually there were ten children.)
There was much humor as well: The escapades with Skogsbergh’s cow and goat; the afternoon of fishing that ended with a fateful encounter with a skunk, because Skogsbergh hated cleaning fish; and the rowboat he himself designed (take note Chris Craft owners) to accommodate his large family. One of his daughters described it as “a viking ship with an ugly head, a long neck, and a queer-looking tail,” which no matter how it was rowed only went in circles. He also designed a barge for hauling guests and firewood, but most people were frightened of it.
The best story, however, is of Skogsbergh the beekeeper. When tending his hives, he would have a daughter cover his head with mosquito netting, cut a small hole by the mouth, then insert and light a cigar. He would thus venture forth amidst clouds of smoke. This worked well until the time he was attacked, became somewhat frantic, and ignited the netting with his cigar. I can’t quite picture him like Sherlock Holmes who, though now 147 years old, is still living and keeping bees in Sussex.
The woman who owns the home knew nothing of this history and was captivated by the stories we had to tell. Naturally, she gave us a grand tour of the house. Its relatively small size,