Other Pillager Notables Neal Mattson My last article was mainly about the amazing Irish janitor at Pillager High, Elmore Dalley, but I now remember another faculty guy besides Elmore with whom I hunted. I nearly forgot my grouse-hunting buddy, the principal, Neal Mattson, who contributed mightily to the fondness of my recollection of that unforgettable teaching year. Early on I discovered that Neal would be indispensable to my enjoyment of teaching there. That's because he was exactly the kind of principal every teacher has to have if he doesn't want his classes to fall into chaos. Neal was a buck-stops-here,” super-strict disciplinarian. At Pillager School no student ever wanted to be called in to the principal's office. The freshman English class I inherited that spring had one rather pugnacious student by the name of Arnie Paynes. He was a member of a notorious fourth generation welfare clan that lived up in the hills back in the Pillsbury State Forest. Arnie spurned my order to stop talking on the first day of class, so to make a point, I walked over to him and said, “Arnie, you're coming with me down to the principal's office. I escorted him there, closed the door and let Mattson take over. Departing, I heard, “Mr. Payne, this better be the last time I have to deal with you.” Neal had a drill sergeant's haircut, and quite a menacing stare. All in all he always got good results for the teachers. That was on a Friday afternoon, and Neal told me the following Monday what happened on Friday night. It turns out that a whole pack of the Payne clan, on orders from the tough old grandmother that led it, spent most of Friday night circling Mattson's house, beeping their horns, shouting obscenities and making threats. But Neal didn't back down, and took care of the whole matter himself. Not only did I not know a thing about it, but the Paynes clan never bothered any of us again that year. Having been a principal myself at Walcott, N,D. where my only job was taking the roll, and recording the grades, (the superintendent, Jim Kroshus, took care of discipline), I never really got to find out what a tricky job real principals had; balanced, as it were, between the students, the parents and the superintendant.. And at Walcott the kids were so well-behaved, teaching was a pleasure; in fact a couple of the Jordheim boys, Rodger and Neil, invited me to shoot ducks with them on ponds over on Selmer Jordheim's farm; Dennis Bakko, and Mark Lee were also usually in on those hunts. One day, Jeff Boyer brought in a skunk he'd trapped--- for show and smell. Jeff (RIP), was a born varmint and critter harvester. Another Walcott kid I found unforgettable was Jerry Ellingson , who had the prettiest hook shot I ever saw-- and the gentlest heart. He was sacrificed to the blood-bath in Viet Nam. (RIP) Anyhow, Neal Mattson and I became good friends and had at least one notable duck hunt over on Rice Lake five miles northwest of town. We had my little 12 foot aluminum boat and were blessed with an amazing evening shoot. I burned up a whole box of shells and Neal did too, but we were cursed at the same time. Thank God neither of us could hit the broad side of a barn. We barely scratched out a limit of “junk ducks,” gadwall, widgeon, shovelers, and teal. And when we arrived back at the launching site, there, waiting for us, was a pair of very suspicious game wardens. Thanks to our lousy shooting, we passed inspection. “How in heck could you guys take that many shots and only come back with these? “I don't know said Neal, I guess we developed a knack.” The other thing Neal and I would do after school when Elmore was still working, was drive the logging roads up in the hills looking for grouse. We seldom got more than one or two, but the trees that year were absolutely breath-taking, especially around Beauty Lake. It was about a forty acre jewel nestled between fairly steep maple, birch, aspen, and oak-covered slopes which, reflected in the lake against a deep October-blue sky, created a breath-taking beauty. Beauty Lake became the “Must re-visit!” spot in the whole area. And we still go back on good-foliage autumns. By the by, my audiologist at the Fargo VA, Molly Fornay, grew up around Pillager and also goes back every good -foliage year to visit Beauty Lake. Moreover, one of the fab-four boys from my Fairmount 9thh grade class, David Hoefs and his wife, Marlene live in Baxter, only eight miles east of Pillager. When we go to see the leaves, we often stop and see the Hoefs' too. Small world, great people! (The other three fab four boys in that class were Doug Ennen, Dennis West, and me.) And David's sister Janis and hubby Arlo Kilber have been Wahpetonians for years - - famous among the banking community. We went back many times in the few years before Elmore passed just to visit the Dalleys, and were always treated like royalty. And I haven't met anyone yet who can cook bluegills with all the fixens like Anna Dalley. Those depression years in the woods served her well. “Son, that was gourmet food!” Gene Pinkney - 2/ 13/ 20 - For the Daily News edited html update 08-19-2021