Every family has a member to whom it can point with pride and say that person has done something worthy of remembering. Such a member of our family was my grandfather. He will long be remembered, not only by his family but also by his countless friends.
Lars l. Nasett was born in Dane County, Wisconsin in 1858. His father, who was a tobacco raiser, owned a large farm in Dane County There my grandfather spent his childhood and the early part of his manhood. It was there that he met his future wife. He made regular weekly visits to her home which was thirty-five miles from his farm. In those days of the horse and buggy, this was quite a journey, but it did not hinder the young lover from visiting his sweetheart. After the proper length of courtship, the young couple were married. After a few months of married life, young Lars became tired of farm work and decided to learn the carpenter’s trade; so for a few months he worked for his uncle who was a contractor of some fame in that day. When this uncle accepted a contracting job for a theological seminary to be built near Minneapolis, Minnesota, Lars went along as an apprentice. After looking over Minneapolis, and the site of the seminary, Lars’ pioneer spirit was aroused, and he decided that this was an excellent spot for a town, a few minutes out of Minneapolis. After hunting up the owner of the site he had picked out, he bought the land with meager savings. The owner of the land, A. B. Robbins, expressed surprise over the sale and desired to know what Mr. Nasett was going to farm on the land. “No,” said the young pioneer, “I’m going b build a store and start at town.” With the help of his uncle, he erected a two-story store and with the rest of his savings he outfitted the store with general merchandise. It was a great day when the first customers came to the store. These customers were mostly farmers who were delighted to have a store near them. The new store saved them time and trouble , and they were grateful for it. After a few months he started a tin shop which made household utensils which he sold in the new store. After the store and business was started, the young businessman sent for his wife. She made the trip on a passenger coach in a freight train, for there were no passenger rains running from Wisconsin to Minneapolis. The husband met her at the Minneapolis station and with their household equipment on the back of a borrowed grocery wagon, they journeyed the ten miles from Minneapolis to Robbinsdale by horse and wagon.
The summer of 1888 brought Robbinsdäle, as it was now called in honor of its first owner, the first building boom. This aided the store and tin shop businesses for my grandfather. After the thirteen houses which constituted the building boom were built, my grandfather decided that Robbinsdale should have a post office. With the permission of the other residents, he submitted the required papers to Washington with the request for a Post Office.The request was granted, and my grandfather was appointed the first Postmaster of RobbinsdaIe, in 1888. This job he held for fifteen years. And so it was largely through the efforts of my grandfather that the village of Robbinsdaie began. After the post office started the population increased rapidly, and in 1893, the people decided to incorporate the village of Robbinsdale. My grandfather was elected as trustee in the village council at the first election. The first Mayor was A.B. Robbins was often unable to be present at the meetings, my grandfather was appointed Mayor Pro tem. Running a small village was not as simple a task as it might seem to be. Prohibition was the major issue in those days, and as most of the revenue the village received came from liquor licenses, there were often disputes between members of the council. It was then that my grandfather had to use strategy and tact in smoothing over the difficulties.. It is a result of these meetings, my grandfather became interested in community affairs. All his life he was interested in the prosperity and growth of Robbinsdale. The general store was the “hub” of Robbinsdale, and as the village grew, the Nasett store became a place of general interest There the village “politicians” gathered to discuss current affairs, and to ‘thrash out’ the prohibition question. It was only natural that the Nasett store should be the busiest place in town, for in that store were the offices of the assessor, health officer, depot agent and postmaster positions. These offices were all held at the same time by my grandfather. He held the same offices for many years at a time, most of them for over fifteen years. He was assessor for for twenty years, off and on. At the time of his death last year he was still assessor. In his spare moments, he helped beautify Robbinsdale. With the help of generous Mr. Robbins, he planted trees along the main streets of the little village. He saw to it that they were kept watered when nature did not provide enough moisture, and it must have given him great satisfaction to see them grow into sturdy oak and elm trees most of them still living and providing shade for the populace of Robbinsdale.
I think perhaps the greatest asset of my grandfather’s nature was his ability to see the humorous side of every problem he faced. I remember his telling about one man who came to the post office to get his mail. He was in an ugly mood, and when my grandfather asked him his name in order to look for his mail, he growled: “None of your business, just give me my mail.” My grandfathers philosophy of life was to “just pass off disagreeable incidents a joke”, as he once said. However, his humorous nature did not keep him from facing the hardships and trials of his pioneer life. He did not lack perseverance. He made friends easily and was also willing to do his share and the other fellows share also. Sometimes people took advantage of this, and let him shoulder their burdens as well as his own, but he never complained. His pockets always carried spare nickels for his grandchildren . When I was a youngster, I was always assured of an ice cream cone if I vent to “Grandpa,’ and almost invariably, I was a daily visitor at his home.The many things he was capable of doing always amazed me. Carpenter, merchant, farmer, tin worker, public office holder, musician, all these trades, he knew and knew them well. He was a true “Jack of all Trades.”
His life was rich in the knowledge that comes from experience. He was an accomplished musician. He played thee violin, guitar, piccolo, piano, and comet. He took great pride in having played before Ole Bull, the great Norwegian violinist; in fact Ole Bull gave him violin lessons. The remainder of the instruments mentioned above he learned b play by himself, or with the help of his brothers and sisters. When he was only a young boy, he played the violin in an orchestra composed of his family. This orchestra played at country village dances and wedding celebrations. His early training in music enabled him to enjoy the finer music which he heard when he arrived in Minneapolis. In his later life it was a great pleasure for him to listen to symphony broadcasts. He did not like jazz as he called it. He saw no real music in jazz and could not understand why it was popular.
It is hard for me to say that the “grand old man of Robbinsdale” is no longer on this earth. The memory of his passing is still deeply etched on my mind. After his passing there was an emptiness and loneliness in my family which was not easily displaced. The only thing which has reconciled me to his passing is the fact that he lived a life of goodness and service, and that he is now taking a well earned rest in the arms of his Savior in whom he had so much faith.
Bessie A. Stanley’s little essay entitled “What is Success?” Best illustrates my grandfather’s life. I quote it here as a tribute to the “Grand Old Man of Robbinsdale”
“He has achieved success, who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children, who has filled his niche and accomplished his task, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of Earth’s beauty, or failed to express it, who has always looked for the best in others and given the best he had, whose life was an inspiration and whose memory a benediction.”
-Eleanor F. Nasett Leckner, 1938
The image at the top of the post features Lars Nasett and his store.
I wonder if he knew my grandma Edna MacKay and my great aunt Myrtle Maker They lived in Robbinsdale on West Broadway from the late 30s to their deaths in the 70s. MY father Bill graduated from Robbinsdale HS just before the big war.