Minnesota Then
Personal experiences are often discounted as historically insignificant. Most of us aren't famous, and the moments we've lived—no matter how interesting or exciting—rarely register as part of "history," at least not on a grand scale. History books typically focus on men and women of means—social, financial, or otherwise. Yet the record is also full of smaller experiences that reveal how a community lived and changed. One person who offered that perspective was "Babe" Rohland, a St. Paul resident who found herself at or near the center of many of the city's high-profile events during the twentieth century.
Margaret Winifred "Babe" Rohland (née Miner) was born in St. Paul on October 16, 1914. Over her ninety-six years, she had a front-row seat to some of local history's most famous—and infamous—moments. Her first look at the highs and lows of history came in 1918, when she saw neighbors, friends, and family—including her Uncle Louie—return home safely after World War I. Babe felt their excitement as he repeatedly tossed her into the air, celebrating a victory felt personally in every household having sent someone overseas. Weeks later, the worldwide influenza epidemic reached her home. She became so ill her survival was far from certain, yet she pulled through.
In 1923, St. Paul officials tried to persuade Henry Ford to move the Minneapolis portion of his car company to Highland Park. Eight-year-old Babe was chosen from among her dance troupe to present flowers to Ford during a grand ceremony at the proposed site. It was a small moment on a large civic stage, tying her directly to a major push for industrial development that would help shape the city's future.
Prohibition was the law of the land during this same period. Intoxicating liquor was illegal to produce, transport, or sell, yet many people—including those in Babe's Summit-University neighborhood—attempted to make homemade liquor anyway. In one memorable instance, federal agents raided a home near Milton Avenue and discovered an illegal still. Babe recalled the awful smell that permeated the neighborhood when agents poured barrels of bathtub gin from a third-floor window onto the alley below. For Babe, Prohibition wasn't a distant national policy—it was the odor of wasted alcohol in her street.
One summer weekend in the late 1920s, Babe and her friends took the streetcar to Wildwood Amusement Park on the southeast shore of White Bear Lake. There she saw a five-piece music combo headlined by a performer known simply as "Larry" Welk. Years later, that same bandleader became famous as Lawrence Welk, an icon of Saturday-night television.
On November 23, 1930, while having dinner with friends at the Alverdes in downtown St. Paul, Babe noticed famed explorer Admiral Richard Byrd—home from his first Antarctic expedition—seated nearby. She approached him and got his autograph.
For much of her early life, Babe lived among gangsters in a city that had grown notorious for its criminal "layover agreement." Under Police Chief John O'Connor, St. Paul had become a haven for criminals who behaved while inside city limits. Despite their reputations, Babe didn't recall many problems—until January 1934. That night, Northwest Airways radio operator Roy McCord approached a car he thought contained prowlers. Babe's mother watched in horror as Barker-Karpis Gang members Alvin Karpis and "Doc" Barker jumped out with submachine guns and fired, hitting McCord multiple times. The wounded man collapsed into the Rohlands' yard. Four days later, only blocks away, the same gang kidnapped banker Edward Bremer.
Babe met her husband, Tom Rohland, in 1936. They married in August 1941, two years before Tom was drafted to fight in World War II. In 1945, the couple was among the thousands who walked through knee-deep streamers in downtown St. Paul celebrating the end of the war. By then, Babe had already witnessed a lifetime's worth of remarkable experiences.
Marriage and children eventually allowed her to look away from the outside world and concentrate on her family, but that didn't mean the world was done with her. In the summer of 1960, the Rohland family drove to Holman Field to welcome presidential candidate John F. Kennedy. Babe shook the future president's hand.
After 1960, she had few brushes with fame. In later interviews, Babe joked she'd seen so much that it was difficult to impress her. Her life became less monumental but no less meaningful. She and Tom remained happily married until his death in 1995, raising four children and welcoming grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Margaret "Babe" Rohland died on February 17, 2011, at age 96. She was a first-hand witness to some of local history's most unforgettable moments. Despite not being traditionally famous, her life story is one worthy of the history books.