At the Orchards

Before Robbinsdale had bustling brewpubs, food trucks, busy avenues, or that big old hospital, it was rolling prairie, farms,  oak savanna, and swamps. In 1886, Andrew B. Robbins—inventor, entrepreneur, state legislator—looked across the shore of Twin Lake and saw something else: a town in the making.

Robbins bought 90 acres in what was then the Village of Crystal and began sketching out his vision. He didn’t just draw up plans—he planted streets, built two factories and established a streetcar line that eventually connected directly to Minneapolis via the Twin City Rapid Transit system.

And, naturally, he built himself a house.

Perched on twenty beautifully wooded acres overlooking Twin Lake, “The Orchards” was more than just a place to hang your top hat—it was a Victorian dream home and a local landmark. Robbins had purchased the land from J.P. Shumway in June of 1887. Construction preparations began in May 1888, when crews started grading a hill and depositing the excavated soil along the lakeshore. At the height of this early work, 13 teams and 25 men were on the job.

Once grass seed had been sown and rows of elm and evergreen trees planted, the property began to take on the appearance of a grand estate and became known locally as Robbins Park.

Construction of the house itself officially began on April 2, 1890. By April 14th, nine workers were on site, and by May 12th, they were already expanding the cellar to accommodate the growing plans. Progress was swift—by July 7th, the house was taking shape rapidly. On October 21st, two wagon loads of household goods arrived at the property, with many more to follow. The Robbins family moved in on November 18th.

A true Queen Anne-style mansion, the finished home featured sixteen spacious rooms, five fireplaces (a necessity in Minnesota winters), stained-glass windows, polished woodwork, and modern indoor plumbing. Each bedroom was equipped with a marble washstand and running water—an uncommon luxury at the time. The house also included separate quarters for maids, further underscoring its elegance and modernity.

The house boasted a rounded tower topped with a conical roof, a two-story arcaded porch, and a porte cochère grand enough to impress even the most skeptical visitor. Inside: a grand piano in the parlor, a cozy library, and enough space for Robbins, his wife Adelaide, and their five daughters. Several of those daughters were married right on the property, under blooming trees and among flowerbeds, with guests gathered on the lawn like something out of a pastoral painting.

Outside, the grounds were carefully designed with rolling lawns, winding walkways, a natural spring-fed pool with a fountain, an array of shrubs and flowers, and a gracefully curved driveway shaded by overhanging trees.

Adelaide Robbins, for her part, was a serious gardener. She transformed the property into a botanical masterpiece with eight acres of manicured lawns, fountains, walking paths, and a  spring-fed pond. She grew violets, forget-me-nots brought over from Germany, and catalpa trees that perfumed the air every spring. Her conservatory—attached right to the dining room—was filled with delicate specimens, many started from seed and all labeled with their proper Latin names (Mrs. Robbins did not mess around when it came to horticulture).

The grounds were not just beautiful for beauty’s sake. Robbins also planted functional trees—apple orchards, hardwoods, and rows of elms and oaks inspired by local tree-planting advocate Richard Chute. His gardener kept them alive the hard way: hauling water by horse-drawn wagon during dry spells.

The estate had its practical side too—Jersey cows drinking from a spring-fed well, a fish pond stocked with bass and pike, and chicken coops so prized they were even insured. By 1910, the house was valued at $13,500, and the piano (along with daughter Esther’s music books) carried its own $1,000 insurance policy. Even the chickens were covered—though only up to $1.50 per bird.

In 1903 Robbins wrote,” I have my own ground, with 22 apple trees which are now bearing fruit.”

Though Robbinsdale was not officially incorporated until 1893, Robbins had already laid its foundation—literally and figuratively. He didn’t just buy land; he built infrastructure. And while his timing wasn’t perfect (the nation plunged into a depression that same year), his vision endured. By 1900, Robbinsdale had 520 residents and growing.

Robbins himself had come a long way. Born in Maine, he moved to Minnesota with his family in 1855 at the age of ten, fought in the Civil War, then launched a successful career in railroads, grain, and real estate. His wife Adelaide came from money too—her father was a wealthy lumberman and art collector, closely tied to Thomas B. Walker. Together, the Robbins family helped shape a community where people could live, grow, and plant roots.

Today, The Orchards is gone—razed around 1942—but its spirit lingers. The trees planted by Robbins still shade local streets. The lake still sparkles. And the idea that a few big dreams, a patch of land, and a whole lot of elbow grease could build something lasting—that idea is alive and well in Robbinsdale.

Whether you’re enjoying a summer Robbinsdale City Band concert, casting a line into the waters of Twin Lake, biking along Victory Memorial Parkway, or simply strolling beneath the canopy of trees lining the streets, you’re experiencing a town that grew from a single vision—Andrew B. Robbins’s dream of a livable, connected, and beautiful community. What began with a garden, a house, and truckloads of carefully planted trees has grown into a city with a strong sense of identity, a proud history of civic engagement, a commitment to preserving green spaces, and a focus on fostering local businesses and building community. Robbinsdale still carries the mark of its founder’s early ideals—where nature, neighborhood, and possibility all meet.