The things that go 'scrape' in the night
The things that go 'scrape' in the night
9/16/04
By LAUREN DONOVAN
SIMS -- She's a cool ghost, but can she remove old wallpaper? Instead of thumps in the night, people preserving the old church and parsonage at Sims would like to hear "scrape, scrape, scrape," no matter how shivery the sound. So far, the Gray Lady hasn't picked up a tool. On the other hand, she hasn't done any mischief either, so she must approve of work being done to preserve the oldest church west of the Missouri River. The Gray Lady story dates back to between 1916 and 1918. She was the wife of Rev. L.D. Dordal, but her name has not survived in anyone's memory, or in records. She died sometime in those few years Dordal served the church and was quickly replaced by her sister. It's said she lingers, moving up the stairs and playing the organ. Stories of her presence persisted -- a young woman who boarded there in later years felt an extra blanket laid on her while she slept, but no one else in the house had come up the stairs that night. In 1938, the church board minutes -- translated from Norwegian in recent years -- noted the secretary was to ask the district president to investigate the supernatural happenings in and around the parsonage. If the district president ever got to the bottom of it, it wasn't recorded anywhere in church minutes. Sims is a ghost town, now, and the Gray Lady has endless nights to meander down memory lane, in and out of buildings no longer there. What once was in Sims is far more substantial than what remains, but the pretty white church at the dirt road corner lives on. It's opened up every other Sunday, and some 50 people come from the countryside and Almont to worship. They gather in the "new" church, with tinwork ceilings that was built in the 1890s to replace the original church and parsonage. The preservation work is being done on the original church just next door, which was built in 1884. That's 120 years ago, before statehood was even established. In an unusual arrangement, living quarters for the pastor were on the main floor. Worshippers, in their long heavy dresses and sturdy wool plants, traipsed up a curved, wide-planked set of stairs to pray and sing hymns under the rafters until a real church could be built. It's to the second floor that the Gray Lady ascends to play an organ that's long since gone. The original building was a plain, sturdy structure, made of locally produced brick and covered with rough stucco. The last pastor left the Sims church parsonage in the '40s, but it remained occupied until 1984.Other than for the ghost, it's been empty for 20 years now. Empty, but not forgotten. Some church members got interested in preserving the building. They wanted to preserve it before time did to the historic building what time has already done to so much of Sims, obliterate it with all the finality of an erasure. "We don't want to forget these churches that were so important to our ancestors," said Joel Johnson. He and his wife, Donna, live three miles away and keep the old church records at their home. The church members applied for a grant from Preservation North Dakota and received $5,000 in the group's Prairie Churches project. They also got some hands-on help from preservation members. Dale Bentley, director, and two board members camped behind the old parsonage last week and pitched in, scraping nine layers of old paper off the walls, carrying out plumbing and electrical fixtures that were added in later years and restoring the old style wavy glass in the windows. The work was festive in the September sunlight, hard but productive, with a break for chili and warmed up apple pie served in the cool church basement. The campers said their rest was mostly uninterrupted, although SIMS -- She's a cool ghost, but can she remove old wallpaper? Instead of thumps in the night, people preserving the old church and parsonage at Sims would like to hear "scrape, scrape, scrape," no matter how shivery the sound. So far, the Gray Lady hasn't picked up a tool. On the other hand, she hasn't done any mischief either, so she must approve of work being done to preserve the oldest church west of the Missouri River. The Gray Lady story dates back to between 1916 and 1918. She was the wife of Rev. L.D. Dordal, but her name has not survived in anyone's memory, or in records. She died sometime in those few years Dordal served the church and was quickly replaced by her sister. It's said she lingers, moving up the stairs and playing the organ. Stories of her presence persisted -- a young woman who boarded there in later years felt an extra blanket laid on her while she slept, but no one else in the house had come up the stairs that night. In 1938, the church board minutes -- translated from Norwegian in recent years -- noted the secretary was to ask the district president to investigate the supernatural happenings in and around the parsonage. If the district president ever got to the bottom of it, it wasn't recorded anywhere in church minutes. Sims is a ghost town, now, and the Gray Lady has endless nights to meander down memory lane, in and out of buildings no longer there. What once was in Sims is far more substantial than what remains, but the pretty white church at the dirt road corner lives on. It's opened up every other Sunday, and some 50 people come from the countryside and Almont to worship. They gather in the "new" church, with tinwork ceilings that was built in the 1890s to replace the original church and parsonage. The preservation work is being done on the original church just next door, which was built in 1884. That's 120 years ago, before statehood was even established. In an unusual arrangement, living quarters for the pastor were on the main floor. Worshippers, in their long heavy dresses and sturdy wool plants, traipsed up a curved, wide-planked set of stairs to pray and sing hymns under the rafters until a real church could be built. It's to the second floor that the Gray Lady ascends to play an organ that's long since gone. The original building was a plain, sturdy structure, made of locally produced brick and covered with rough stucco. The last pastor left the Sims church parsonage in the '40s, but it remained occupied until 1984.Other than for the ghost, it's been empty for 20 years now. Empty, but not forgotten. Some church members got interested in preserving the building. They wanted to preserve it before time did to the historic building what time has already done to so much of Sims, obliterate it with all the finality of an erasure. "We don't want to forget these churches that were so important to our ancestors," said Joel Johnson. He and his wife, Donna, live three miles away and keep the old church records at their home. The church members applied for a grant from Preservation North Dakota and received $5,000 in the group's Prairie Churches project. They also got some hands-on help from preservation members. Dale Bentley, director, and two board members camped behind the old parsonage last week and pitched in, scraping nine layers of old paper off the walls, carrying out plumbing and electrical fixtures that were added in later years and restoring the old style wavy glass in the windows. The work was festive in the September sunlight, hard but productive, with a break for chili and warmed up apple pie served in the cool church basement. The campers said their rest was mostly uninterrupted, although they did hear some interesting noises coming from the house one night, a kind of repetitive thumping. "It sounded like someone walking and then like a clock ticking," Bentley said. "There was something very distinct coming out of the building." The Gray Lady only adds mystery to a compelling historical story that could stand on its own without her. Construction of the church marked the advance of Christianity into the far reaches Dakota Territory, across the wide Missouri River, when the river was still a significant dividing line. At Sims, the settlers called out ministers who could preach in Norwegian and English and they named their church Sims Scandinavian Lutheran Church. It stood in a bustling village, occupied by 1,000 souls when the church was built. The town was briefly the biggest in Morton County, mainly because of coal mining activity. By 1940, only 98 people remained, and the population trickled off to virtually nothing when the Northern Pacific Railroad rerouted its mainline north of Sims later in that decade. Still, it's possible to imagine Sims, with houses sprinkled up and down the small green valley of Sims Creek. The once fabulous banker's house still stands past the church, a decaying monument to a bygone era of fancy brick work and gingerbread trim. At the old parsonage, church members will continue their work to preserve a building that 120 years ago gave Sims spiritual sustenance and, it seems, a spirit. "It's a neat story," Bentley said. Johnson said church members hope to have one room completed by Oct. 3,when a 120th celebration will be held starting at 10 a.m., with services, a noon meal and time for visiting afterward. The building, restored to its essential 1880s simplicity, will serve as a museum of the church's history. Its story and the story of the Gray Lady will be part of what visitors can learn. How the preservation proceeds depends on how quickly the work can be done. At Sims, there aren't many hands left. "We're few," said Donna Johnson.
9/16/04
By LAUREN DONOVAN
SIMS -- She's a cool ghost, but can she remove old wallpaper? Instead of thumps in the night, people preserving the old church and parsonage at Sims would like to hear "scrape, scrape, scrape," no matter how shivery the sound. So far, the Gray Lady hasn't picked up a tool. On the other hand, she hasn't done any mischief either, so she must approve of work being done to preserve the oldest church west of the Missouri River. The Gray Lady story dates back to between 1916 and 1918. She was the wife of Rev. L.D. Dordal, but her name has not survived in anyone's memory, or in records. She died sometime in those few years Dordal served the church and was quickly replaced by her sister. It's said she lingers, moving up the stairs and playing the organ. Stories of her presence persisted -- a young woman who boarded there in later years felt an extra blanket laid on her while she slept, but no one else in the house had come up the stairs that night. In 1938, the church board minutes -- translated from Norwegian in recent years -- noted the secretary was to ask the district president to investigate the supernatural happenings in and around the parsonage. If the district president ever got to the bottom of it, it wasn't recorded anywhere in church minutes. Sims is a ghost town, now, and the Gray Lady has endless nights to meander down memory lane, in and out of buildings no longer there. What once was in Sims is far more substantial than what remains, but the pretty white church at the dirt road corner lives on. It's opened up every other Sunday, and some 50 people come from the countryside and Almont to worship. They gather in the "new" church, with tinwork ceilings that was built in the 1890s to replace the original church and parsonage. The preservation work is being done on the original church just next door, which was built in 1884. That's 120 years ago, before statehood was even established. In an unusual arrangement, living quarters for the pastor were on the main floor. Worshippers, in their long heavy dresses and sturdy wool plants, traipsed up a curved, wide-planked set of stairs to pray and sing hymns under the rafters until a real church could be built. It's to the second floor that the Gray Lady ascends to play an organ that's long since gone. The original building was a plain, sturdy structure, made of locally produced brick and covered with rough stucco. The last pastor left the Sims church parsonage in the '40s, but it remained occupied until 1984.Other than for the ghost, it's been empty for 20 years now. Empty, but not forgotten. Some church members got interested in preserving the building. They wanted to preserve it before time did to the historic building what time has already done to so much of Sims, obliterate it with all the finality of an erasure. "We don't want to forget these churches that were so important to our ancestors," said Joel Johnson. He and his wife, Donna, live three miles away and keep the old church records at their home. The church members applied for a grant from Preservation North Dakota and received $5,000 in the group's Prairie Churches project. They also got some hands-on help from preservation members. Dale Bentley, director, and two board members camped behind the old parsonage last week and pitched in, scraping nine layers of old paper off the walls, carrying out plumbing and electrical fixtures that were added in later years and restoring the old style wavy glass in the windows. The work was festive in the September sunlight, hard but productive, with a break for chili and warmed up apple pie served in the cool church basement. The campers said their rest was mostly uninterrupted, although SIMS -- She's a cool ghost, but can she remove old wallpaper? Instead of thumps in the night, people preserving the old church and parsonage at Sims would like to hear "scrape, scrape, scrape," no matter how shivery the sound. So far, the Gray Lady hasn't picked up a tool. On the other hand, she hasn't done any mischief either, so she must approve of work being done to preserve the oldest church west of the Missouri River. The Gray Lady story dates back to between 1916 and 1918. She was the wife of Rev. L.D. Dordal, but her name has not survived in anyone's memory, or in records. She died sometime in those few years Dordal served the church and was quickly replaced by her sister. It's said she lingers, moving up the stairs and playing the organ. Stories of her presence persisted -- a young woman who boarded there in later years felt an extra blanket laid on her while she slept, but no one else in the house had come up the stairs that night. In 1938, the church board minutes -- translated from Norwegian in recent years -- noted the secretary was to ask the district president to investigate the supernatural happenings in and around the parsonage. If the district president ever got to the bottom of it, it wasn't recorded anywhere in church minutes. Sims is a ghost town, now, and the Gray Lady has endless nights to meander down memory lane, in and out of buildings no longer there. What once was in Sims is far more substantial than what remains, but the pretty white church at the dirt road corner lives on. It's opened up every other Sunday, and some 50 people come from the countryside and Almont to worship. They gather in the "new" church, with tinwork ceilings that was built in the 1890s to replace the original church and parsonage. The preservation work is being done on the original church just next door, which was built in 1884. That's 120 years ago, before statehood was even established. In an unusual arrangement, living quarters for the pastor were on the main floor. Worshippers, in their long heavy dresses and sturdy wool plants, traipsed up a curved, wide-planked set of stairs to pray and sing hymns under the rafters until a real church could be built. It's to the second floor that the Gray Lady ascends to play an organ that's long since gone. The original building was a plain, sturdy structure, made of locally produced brick and covered with rough stucco. The last pastor left the Sims church parsonage in the '40s, but it remained occupied until 1984.Other than for the ghost, it's been empty for 20 years now. Empty, but not forgotten. Some church members got interested in preserving the building. They wanted to preserve it before time did to the historic building what time has already done to so much of Sims, obliterate it with all the finality of an erasure. "We don't want to forget these churches that were so important to our ancestors," said Joel Johnson. He and his wife, Donna, live three miles away and keep the old church records at their home. The church members applied for a grant from Preservation North Dakota and received $5,000 in the group's Prairie Churches project. They also got some hands-on help from preservation members. Dale Bentley, director, and two board members camped behind the old parsonage last week and pitched in, scraping nine layers of old paper off the walls, carrying out plumbing and electrical fixtures that were added in later years and restoring the old style wavy glass in the windows. The work was festive in the September sunlight, hard but productive, with a break for chili and warmed up apple pie served in the cool church basement. The campers said their rest was mostly uninterrupted, although they did hear some interesting noises coming from the house one night, a kind of repetitive thumping. "It sounded like someone walking and then like a clock ticking," Bentley said. "There was something very distinct coming out of the building." The Gray Lady only adds mystery to a compelling historical story that could stand on its own without her. Construction of the church marked the advance of Christianity into the far reaches Dakota Territory, across the wide Missouri River, when the river was still a significant dividing line. At Sims, the settlers called out ministers who could preach in Norwegian and English and they named their church Sims Scandinavian Lutheran Church. It stood in a bustling village, occupied by 1,000 souls when the church was built. The town was briefly the biggest in Morton County, mainly because of coal mining activity. By 1940, only 98 people remained, and the population trickled off to virtually nothing when the Northern Pacific Railroad rerouted its mainline north of Sims later in that decade. Still, it's possible to imagine Sims, with houses sprinkled up and down the small green valley of Sims Creek. The once fabulous banker's house still stands past the church, a decaying monument to a bygone era of fancy brick work and gingerbread trim. At the old parsonage, church members will continue their work to preserve a building that 120 years ago gave Sims spiritual sustenance and, it seems, a spirit. "It's a neat story," Bentley said. Johnson said church members hope to have one room completed by Oct. 3,when a 120th celebration will be held starting at 10 a.m., with services, a noon meal and time for visiting afterward. The building, restored to its essential 1880s simplicity, will serve as a museum of the church's history. Its story and the story of the Gray Lady will be part of what visitors can learn. How the preservation proceeds depends on how quickly the work can be done. At Sims, there aren't many hands left. "We're few," said Donna Johnson.
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