With the debut of service on the new, $1 billion “Green Line” light rail train this weekend, I find myself trying to sort out some surprisingly deep feelings that have sprung up from the well of old St. Paul memory and pride.
University Avenue will carry more than sleek trains covered in slick corporate ads. It has always carried family histories and deep-seated associations – good and bad – of life in St. Paul, where University Avenue once was the main route of passage through town. And may become once again, at least symbolically, with the arrival of the new-age street cars after an absence of 60 years.
I am told I rode on one of those last University Avenue street cars in 1954, a four-year-old carried on the lap of my Irish-born grandmother (She would have approved of a “Green Line”) who learned when my father was a baby that a brief street car trip up and down University Avenue was the perfect sleeping tonic for a fussy baby. A few years ago, as crews were ripping up six decades of asphalt to make way for the new train, they discovered forgotten veins of granite cobblestones, some of them with grooves machined into them to hold the old street car rails. Strangely overcome, I bought a bunch of the heavy stones for $2.50 a piece and took them home, my car’s suspension bottoming out, using them to edge my garden. The stones my grandmother and my father and generations of my family passed over for years, carrying their hopes and their worries, and carrying me.
The 4th and 5th generations of St Paul Colemans to ride the rails on “the Avenue” try out the new Green Line Saturday, June 14. Photo by “Mom.”
It’s hard to exaggerate how important University Avenue is to St. Paul, even if it has been by-passed by the multitudes driving in the blind trench of Interstate 94 in recent decades, traveling through the heart of the Capital city with hardly more to see than car-blown litter, scraps of truck tires and graffiti on a railroad overpass or two.
I-94 is a blank tunnel. University Avenue — the Central Corridor — was the artery, carrying not just cars, but life.
My mother was born in the intersection of University and Rice Street, in the back seat of a police car racing to the hospital but arriving 10 minutes late. Her parents had a small grocery on the south side of University, at Farrington, living above the store on the edge of Rondo, the impoverished but proud integrated neighborhood nearly erased by the big ditch that was dug to build the freeway. On the other side of University is Frogtown, where my father grew up, his dad working for the railroad, his mother selling scarves downtown. Connecting the two neighborhoods, and separating them as well, the street cars unknowingly bound the two families together. My mother’s stepfather, Abraham Levenson, from Lithuania, riding the same cars Hannah Kennedy Coleman, from Ireland, was riding. Those connections eventually would lead to a marriage, and to me: They were forged at the end of the line, downtown at The Golden Rule, the department store where my grandma worked and my mother was trying to get hired as a store model. She seemed like just the right girl, my grandmother thought, to introduce to her son.
So I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here if they had all been driving on I-94. And maybe you wouldn’t be here, either.
My brother – the one who is mayor – will be part of the opening ceremonies Saturday at The Union Depot in downtown St. Paul. But he won’t just be cutting the ribbon as an elected official. But as a descendant of a century of immigrant families -– Colemans, Finnegans, Levensons, Alfords and more – who found their futures in a St. Paul where there were no “fast lanes” or chauffeured Town Cars, just an egalitarian, everyone’s-equal transportation system where they took their seat, or held on to an overhead strap, to make their way in a city where they were as welcome as anybody else. And where, often, they came to know just about everyone else. It’s ironic that, as America becomes more and more divided in terms of income equality, light rail returns to a street where it once helped build a city.
We need it to work again.
University Avenue does more than connect St. Paul and Minneapolis. It has connected people and their stories, and, ultimately, their family histories. Here’s hoping the Green Line prods a few of those drivers on I-94 to look up and see where they are. And to take a chance on the light rail.
You never know where it might lead them.
You can reach Nick Coleman at ProBonoPress. Follow him @NickColeman
All my mother’s family who grew up just off University are no longer living.
My brother and I are the only two who can appreciate this tribute to “The Avenue” as we called it, having lived there on University.
Thanks for the memories. Now I look forward to forging new memories for sharing.
“As a descendant of a century (and a half) of (Saint Paul) immigrant families -–(Johnson, Feely, Murphy, Adamson) and more – who found their futures in a St. Paul” I cite Nick as a great writer who again captures the essence of his topic. Goosebumps galore. Unmatched Nick. Thank you!
St Paul loves Swedes, too!
Nick, your piece continues to reverberate, especially the part of the Saint Paul “welcoming” for immigrants.
Today, to celebrate this event, I went to one of the new stations and rode the LRT, then to eat at a small Mexican Restaurant near the tracks. My lovely server spoke precious little English. The tacos were outstanding.
Let us ALL be welcoming to today’s immigrants, and all future immigrants to our “saintly city.” My six ancestors, now buried in Saint Paul, four Irish and two Swedes, were welcomed I made the ride on the LRT in their honor. Thanks again for placing this all into perspective.
Amen, brother. Thrilled you and Laura are running ProBonoPress! Looking forward to sharing more with two of the most gifted writers I know. Go raibh míle maith agaibh.
Thanks, Mike! We hope to make ourselves useful!
Well done Nick. Short & sweet!
Of all that has been written and spoken in the run up to opening day (including lots of my own babbling in search of meaning), this is my favorite. Thank you, Nick.
Thanks, Nancy! It helps to be old!
Nick,
Thanks for something to comment on: as a kid about 8yo I would hop the streetcar with my sister in tow on to the Fort Snelling/7th St line at 3rd & Maria headed for S. St. Paul. We would transfer at 7th & Robert and catch the Concord St. line south to the Vavro Dance School where my sister would take her hour long tap dance class. I think I only did that a few times but I remember that trips vividly.
I am excited about the opening of Greenline and the new memories to begin.
Loved it! Never heard the story of the cop car delivery! Thanks!
thank you for this Nick…. you have captured the story…. as usual
I’m guessing those cobblestones weren’t “”machined” to hold rails but rather hand-cut by laborers.
True…but those laborers probably used hand-turned tools…or steam-powered take-offs for groove-cutting…takes a long time with a whittling knife. 🙂
My folk’s house was near the corner of Van Buren and Simpson. Simpson and Minnehaha, ½ block away, was a stop for the old streetcars that would wind their way through downtown St. Paul. We would go past the old Daytons and Golden Rule where I also had family working, then down to the lower end of the far side of the river and then back the hill to Smith Ave and out to Annapolis where we would get off to walk the 4 blocks to my grandmothers house. As the old song goes, “Thanks for memories”, Nick.
A fascinating story beautifully written, Nick. Should be read by every school kid as a lesson in why immigration is good for our country.
Early memories include watching for the streetcars from that 3rd floor apartment at University and Farrington. Most often I remember watching & waiting to see my mom returning home from her job at the Golden Rule. I wish my parents and sibs were all here to ride the new Green Line. I think they’d love it.
Michele, I am Ann Johnson’s daughter, Dottie. I heard your name many times.
I’m not sure if we ever met. Abe was a very special person. I think my mom would have been lonely without his company after my dad died. However, my mom didn’t want to marry again.
I was born when we lived in the flats where Abe and Alma lived. I am told she was my sitter. She entered my milestones as a baby into my “Baby Book”. My only memory of her is when my mom brought me to visit a few times after we moved up-the-hill to Iglehart & Farrington. I wish I remembered more. Your family was a big part of my mom’s life.
Tom Owens is a musician friend of mine, a string bass player and singer, an interesting guy. He was a St. Paul police officer 20-25 years ago and became known as the Singing Sergeant because of his impromptu performances at Gallivan’s. Then he quit the force, earned a riverboat pilot’s license, and became a captain on the Jonathan Padelford. I believe that’s where he met banjo player Debbie Schreyer, his wife and musical partner (She’ll be inducted into the National Four-string Banjo Hall of Fame in September). When I watched the excelent documentary “University Avenue: One Street, a Thousand Dreams” a couple years ago on KTCA (preview at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWxBQ2uVlBo), I was surprised to see Tom Owens as one of the talking heads. I didn’t know that his family had owned Owens Ford for a couple generations in the heyday of University Av. as the auto-sales capital of St. Paul. The building, erected by company founder Thomas Owens in 1917, is still there in the 700 block and now houses Lifetrack Resources.
Enjoyed your article. My father drove street car in the 1940’s and two cousins. I can remember riding with my grandmother to the transfer point to catch a bus and the final point being Southdale. I can remember the sparks on the over head power lines. Then twenty years ago driving for Metro Transit. Thank Nick.
Thanks for the personal history, Nick. As a recent St, Paul immigrant and neighbor it makes me all the more appreciative.
Wonderful perspective and nice to hear about your history.