Brian Johnson - Murder in Chisago County: The Unsolved Johnson Family Mystery

Published by The History Press

Charleston, SC

www.historypress.com

Copyright 2019 by Brian Johnson

All rights reserved

Front cover, top: Albin Johnson as seen in his wanted poster. Pinkerton Consulting & Investigations, Inc. Bottom, from left: Harold Johnson, Alvira Johnson and one of the Johnson boys, probably Harold or Kenneth, on a tricycle. Authors collection.

First published 2019

E-Book edition 2019

ISBN 978.1.43966.632.6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018963521

Print edition ISBN 978.1.46714.233.5

Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

In memory of Alvira Lundeen Johnson and her seven children: Harold, Clifford, Kenneth, Dorothy, Bernice, Lester and James Johnson.

Contents

Acknowledgements

This project has literally been decades in the making. Since 1992, when the ECM Post Review published my story about the Johnson family mystery, Ive flirted with the idea of writing a full-fledged book about the tragedy. At one point, I even started writing a novel based on the events of April 1933. I shelved that idea after realizing that my real skills are in journalism, not fiction. Besides, I could never make up anything as compelling as the true story of the Albin Johnson case.

Life intervened, and the project ended up on the back burner. A big turning point came in about 2007, when North Branch resident Nan Hult contacted me and presented a stack of newspaper articles about the case. She and her friend Dick Lindgren provided a wealth of information. One thing led to another. Before long, I was doing additional research, conducting interviews with old-timers familiar with the story, being interviewed by reporters in East Central Minnesota and speaking in front of a packed house at the North Chisago Historical Society.

Im indebted to many folks who offered their time, talents and insight. That list includes, among others: Aunt Betty Kollas, Dick Lindgren, Greg Strom, Mark Ruhland, Steve Hansmann, Floyd Pinotti, Jim Carlbom, Barbara Jones, Zac Farber, Venzel Lindholm, Kelly Ann Hokanson, Monte Hanson, Mike Mosedale, Bill Klotz, Derrick Knutson, Ralph Carlson, Ron Hult, Muriel Krantz Kennedy Cash, Al Terry, Mark Johnson, Julie Rowland, Margie Thorp, Gerrie Roll, Twyla Ring, Nyle Zikmund, Mark Cohen and David Schultz. Thanks also to the ECM Post Review and Pine City Pioneer for their coverage of the Johnson tragedy and my book project. I also owe a debt of gratitude to the staff of the North Chisago Historical Society, the Rush City Library, the Harris Lutheran Church and the Minnesota Historical Society.

Many thanks to my wife, Stephanie Johnson, and kids (Victoria, Julia, Lydia and William), who indulged me as I typed away on evenings and weekends and went on road trips up north to do my research. A huge thank-you to Nan Hult for her encouragement, support and research talents. This project would not have happened without her.

Most of all, thanks to my mother, Jeanette Johnson, for sharing her thoughts and memories of the tragedy that claimed the life of her Aunt Alvira and seven cousins.

Introduction

Rush City, Minnesota, may well be the most patriotic small town in Minnesota. The three thousand or so folks who live there dont wait until the Fourth of July to show their national pride. American flags regularly line the main drag, flapping in the wind on most any day of the week, any time of the year.

The towns website boasts that Rush Citys first residents included Dakota and Chippewa Natives, who were attracted to the bountiful hunting and fishing opportunities there. Logging, fur trapping and farming lured nonnative pioneers to the area.

The citys name is a nod to Rush Citys abundance of bulrushes, or cattails. Incorporated as a village on March 8, 1873, Rush City grew into a mini commercial hub with help from a train, called the Blueberry Special, which brought shoppers in droves across the river from Grantsburg, Wisconsin, the website notes.

For decades, many of those shoppers found lodging or grabbed a hot meal at the iconic Grant House hotel and restaurant. Colonel Russell H. Grant, second cousin to Ulysses S. Grant, put up the original Grant House in 1880. He built the existing three-story brick structure in 1896 after a fire took down the first building. Some folks swear up and down that the place is haunted.

Folks coming into town off Interstate 35 might drive past the Grant House at the corner of Fourth and Bremer. A few blocks past the Grant House, they can hang a left and take a short drive down a country road to the First Lutheran Cemetery, final resting place of Alvira, Harold, Clifford, Kenneth, Dorothy, Bernice, Lester and James Johnson. Those family members died as one on April 11, 1933.

The historic Grant House in Rush City. Bill Klotz.

The events of April 1933 took place more than thirty years before I was born. But I have always had a spiritual connection to my great-aunt Alvira Lundeen Johnson and her seven children, as well as others who were forever changed by the tragedy that put a chill into that spring day.

It was a Memorial Day ritual for the Johnson family. Every year on that holiday weekend, the whole Johnson gangMom, Dad and three kids, of which I was the youngestwould pile into the station wagon and drive about sixty-five miles north of our Minneapolis home to the First Lutheran Cemetery. My great-grandmother Christine Lundeen is laid to rest there, along with other relatives on my mothers side of the family. Next to Lundeens grave is a nondescript, flat headstone with a simple inscription over the grave of Christines daughter and grandchildren: Alvira Lundeen Johnson and her seven children. Died April 10, 1933. (I would find out much later that they actually died on the eleventh. More on that later).

Every year, we would pay our respects at the cemetery. Planting flowers was a big part of that ritual. Pulling with all of our might, we worked the hand-operated pump, located just off a narrow, winding gravel road in the rural boneyard, and watched with anticipation as the cool water came gushing out. Then we carefully took the flowers out of their plastic pots, placed them in the ground over the graves and refilled the hole with dirt, patting the dark soil to make sure the flower was firmly supported. We took turns watering the flowers until we were satisfied that they were no longer thirsty.

Grave of Alvira Lundeen Johnson and her seven children at the First Lutheran Cemetery, Rush City. Bill Klotz.

I remember Great-Grandma Lundeen when she was an old lady. She moaned and groaned a lot and couldnt hear or see very well. Slumped into her wheelchair, with her thinning white hair tied up neatly in a bun, she seemed frail, confused and tired. And yet, she still managed to look content and dignified, despite her advanced age and feeble condition. When I was six, during a visit to Great-Grandmas room at the Green Acres nursing home in North Branch, the elderly lady asked big sister Julie how old she was. Eleven, Julie replied. Seven? Great-Grandma responded. No, Julie said, louder this time.