Brainerd: old and new memories, part two

After a visit with my son and his family, who recently moved to the Brainerd Lakes Area, I headed to the north end of Gull Lake.

My destination was Bar Harbor townhomes, unit 403, where I lived with my parents and two younger sisters during the 1970s.

The townhomes are located along an inlet bay to Gull Lake, directly across from the Bar Harbor Supper Club on Interlachen Road in the community of Lake Shore.

I stood in front of our old family townhome, breathed in the crisp, pine-scented air, and looked out over the glistening waters of the inlet bay where our Lund fishing boat and Kayot pontoon were once tied to the dock.

Just across the road is the Bar Harbor Supper Club, which was formerly known as Little Bar Harbor.

There, people enjoy meals on the patio or from indoor booths with views of the water.

Pine trees line the area, and there is boating access to seven lakes – lakes where, in the 1970s, I often fished using my trusty Lowrance “FISH LO-K-TOR” in the green metal case.

The story of the Bar Harbor Supper Club began in 1937, when Erv Anderson started construction on the club, which was completed in May 1938.

The original structure, called the Bar Harbor Club, featured a dining area partially suspended over the water, a lighthouse to guide visiting boaters, and a spacious interior for guests.

Revenue came mainly from liquor sales and gambling, which was technically illegal but largely unenforced. Gambling operations and slot machines remained in use until they were banned in 1946.

The Bar Harbor Club’s secluded location also reportedly attracted well-known figures tied to organized crime.

When the Bar Harbor Club opened, guests were welcomed by the sounds of slot machines and card games.

In 1963, a smaller building located across the road from the original Bar Harbor Club was remodeled into a cozy supper club intended to serve Gull Lake’s winter residents.

This location became known as “Little Bar Harbor,” and over time, the original structure came to be referred to locally as “Big Bar Harbor” to distinguish it from the other.

I later learned that the Bar Harbor townhome property where I once lived was built on the site of the original Big Bar Harbor.

The first weekend of races for the new Brainerd International Raceway Aug. 8, 1968, thieves broke into Big Bar Harbor after it was closed in search of cash.

Upset that the cash had already been removed, they set Big Bar Harbor on fire, which resulted in most of the structure being burned down.

After the 1968 fire, Little Bar Harbor was expanded to include an indoor charcoal grill, a bandstand, a dance floor, an outdoor patio, and a larger kitchen.

Today, Little Bar Harbor is the Bar Harbor Supper Club, the place where my mom loved spending time with family and friends during the 1970s.

In August 2005, for her 75th birthday, we took her back to the Bar Harbor Supper Club for a family celebration.

During my high school years, I was part of the Brainerd High School newspaper, the “Pow-Wow,” and participated in the audio-visual class.

I was in the first electronics class at Brainerd High School, taught by Mr. Syvertsen, an amateur radio operator with the call sign K0VOO.

He kept his ham radio setup in the corner of the classroom, and one day, we helped him install a high-gain Yagi antenna on the school’s roof.

After attending services at St. Christopher’s Church in Nisswa Sunday, my family often ate breakfast at the Green Mill, the Quarterdeck, or the Bar Harbor Supper Club.

The Nisswa Roller Rink was a popular spot during the 1970s, where I took my younger sisters to skate.

I remember gliding to disco music and doing the “Hokey Pokey” with high school friends.

Today, the skating rink no longer exists.

At the intersection of Sixth and Washington streets stands the Brainerd Water Tower, a landmark symbolizing the city’s history.

Construction began in 1919 on the Brainerd Water Tower. It was the first all-concrete elevated water tank built in the United States.

The Brainerd Dispatch newspaper reported Sept. 30, 1920, that the city’s new 150-foot concrete tower held water for the first time.

The newspaper said engineers spent seven hours pumping 300,000 gallons of water 150 feet to the top, adding more than two million pounds to the structure.

After lights were installed on the tower, on Sept. 27, 1921, the Brainerd Daily Dispatch wrote, “High above the city, atop the water tower, a circlet of light met the sky.”

The tower became known as “Paul Bunyan’s Cup,” and its image appeared on logos, cups, letterhead, and postcards, making it an enduring symbol of Brainerd.

Around 1960, the tower stopped storing and distributing water for the city.

In 1974, it was added to the National Register of Historic Places.

Over the past century, the tower has suffered weather damage and concrete cracks.

Its high maintenance costs had the city council considering its demolition, which many residents and visitors objected to, including me.

To help save the structure, community groups raised money, which included selling miniature wooden water tower keychains. The proceeds helped pay for a new tower roof in 2022.

Today, the Brainerd Water Tower is still standing tall.

For me, the Brainerd Lakes Area is more than a place with memories; it is now once again a place with family.

Brainerd: both old and new memories, part one

@ Mark Ollig

Whenever I go back to Brainerd, I find myself becoming nostalgic and reconnecting with my youth from the mid to late 1970s.

This morning, I am writing part of this column from the Coco Moon Coffee Bar on Laurel and Sixth Street.

Along with its delicious coffee and inviting atmosphere, the coffee bar offers Wi-Fi, which I am currently using on my laptop.

While typing this column, I am drinking a cup of light roast with a double espresso shot, which includes a splash of heavy cream.

While in Brainerd, I spent time with my son, his wife, and my three grandchildren, who recently settled into the area.

The gifts that Grandpa brought for the grandkids were well-received, but for me, the best gift was spending time with all of them.

Watching my son and his wife tackle the challenges of parenthood made me reflect on my own experiences raising young children.

It reminded me that, despite the changes in time and circumstances, family bonds remain strong and lasting.

No trip to Brainerd is complete without catching up with my Brainerd High School friends: Dean, a fellow retiree and forever a US Marine, and his wife, Sara, a former school district administrative assistant.

We met for brunch at a restaurant named Ernie’s on Gull on the northeast side of Gull Lake, known for its delicious food, drinks, and beautiful lake views from the patio.

Established in 1917 by carpenter Ernie Ritari as a camping and fishing resort, it is now a popular lakeside restaurant and bar.

I had the Caesar salad, and a plate of barbecue wings was enough for Dean and Sara.

As for drinks, I decided to stick with coffee and water.

We talked about old high school memories, current events, and a few of Dean’s Marine stories, which I never tire of hearing.

I reflected on my years with the telephone company, family, and subjects from my column, and my junior and senior years at Brainerd High School.

We also discussed being retired and the surprising adventures this new stage of our lives has brought us.

Our conversation was an affirmation that even after 50 years of friendship, time marches on, but true friendship endures.

We also reminisced about working at the West Brainerd Mr. Steak restaurant during our high school years.

Dean, Sara, and I were part of the first group of employees to work at the newly built restaurant in 1975.

I can still hear the familiar rhythm of pots and pans clanging together, dishes being stacked, and shouts of “Order up!” and “Hot bakers in the oven,” (the baked potatoes wrapped in foil) from the kitchen.

Those sounds were augmented by the spraying of water cleaning the dishes inside the Hobart dishwasher, and the murmuring conversations flowing in the dining room.

Looking back, it was the camaraderie I had working with the people there that I most enjoyed from that time.

In the late 1970s, Mr. Steak became a favorite dining spot for the locals, tourists, and vacationers alike.
City officials, police, and business owners often met at the restaurant, making it a popular dining spot.

During the 1970s, the Trans-Am Series was popular with racing spectators at the Brainerd International Raceway (BIR).

BIR, originally Donnybrooke Speedway, established in 1968 by George Montgomery, a Northwest Airlines pilot from Minneapolis, was named for two local Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) racers, Donny Skogmo and Brooke Kinnard.

At around 11 p.m. Sunday, July 10, 1977, just as the restaurant was closing, a bus marked “Newman-Freeman Racing” entered the Mr. Steak parking lot.

When we realized it was Paul Newman, the well-known actor and race car driver, those of us closing the kitchen quickly restarted operations.

Newman co-owned the Newman-Freeman Racing team with Bill Freeman.

That weekend, Paul Newman broke the lap record at Brainerd International Raceway during the 1977 Uncola Nationals, a major SCCA event that took place July 9 and 10, and was sponsored by 7 Up, famously known as “The Uncola.”

I learned he appreciated the Brainerd area for allowing him to be “Paul Newman, the racer,” as reported by the Brainerd Dispatch newspaper.

Paul Newman and his racing crew walked into Mr. Steak and were seated in the private dining area at the back of the restaurant.

Newman, with his striking blue eyes, smile, and charm, captured everyone’s attention.

He and his racing crew were very polite to the wait staff and to those of us who popped our heads out from the kitchen to say “hello.”

After finishing their meal, the crew left the restaurant, while Paul remained at the front till.

He thanked us for the “terrific food and service,” and paid for the meals by signing a check, which included a substantial tip.

After Newman left, we made copies of the check; after all, it had Paul Newman’s signature on it.

When I got home, I showed a copy to my extremely impressed mother.

I recall my father being less impressed as he watched my smiling mother intently looking at the check, asking, “Mark, is this really Paul Newman’s signature?”

Next week, I wrap up my memories from the Brainerd Lakes Area.

The mission to save Skylab: America’s first space station

The United States launched its first space station, Skylab, from Launch Complex 39A at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida May 14, 1973, at 12:30 p.m. CDT.

The Saturn V rocket (SA-513), originally built for the canceled Apollo 18 mission, served as the launch vehicle for Skylab and marked the final flight of the powerful Saturn V.

Engineers at McDonnell Douglas modified an S-IVB-212 third stage, originally built for the Saturn IB program, a medium-lift launch vehicle, into what was officially named the Skylab Orbital Workshop.

Let’s go back to the launch of Skylab, where NASA reported all as nominal (proceeding as planned) during the liftoff.

However, 63 seconds later, aerodynamic forces tore the micrometeoroid shield away from the Skylab module, which exposed the space station to the sun’s intense heat once it reached Earth orbit.

Also, as the shield broke loose, it became entangled with one of Skylab’s two main solar arrays (solar wings) and completely tore the second array off the space station.

The debris from the shield had jammed the remaining solar array, preventing it from deploying and leaving Skylab critically underpowered.

With no sunshield and minimal power, internal temperatures inside Skylab soared to 126 degrees Fahrenheit, threatening to ruin food, photographic film, sensitive equipment, and risking the release of toxic gases that would make the space station uninhabitable.

The first crew to Skylab was scheduled to launch May 15; however, their mission was delayed until May 25, as it changed from a routine flight into an emergency rescue of the space station.

NASA engineers needed time to devise a recovery plan and train the astronauts to carry it out during their Skylab 2 mission to the space station.

The crew of Skylab 2 launched May 25, 1973, aboard an Apollo command module attached to a Saturn IB, a smaller, medium-lift rocket used to obtain Earth orbit.

The astronaut crew consisted of commander Charles “Pete” Conrad Jr., science pilot Joseph P. Kerwin, and pilot Paul J. Weitz.

Upon reaching the space station, a fly-around confirmed their worst fears: the shield was gone, one solar array was missing, and the other appeared hopelessly jammed.

The astronauts’ first extravehicular activity (EVA) attempt to free the stuck array was unsuccessful.

The following day, the astronauts donned gas masks and made their way into the sweltering hot Skylab workshop cabin.

They used a narrow airlock to deploy a type of parasol umbrella outside of the space station, which they unfurled to provide shade for Skylab, reducing the interior temperature to 75 degrees Fahrenheit.

However, the space station still faced significant power shortages.

Astronauts Conrad and Kerwin conducted a three-hour, 25-minute EVA outside of Skylab June 7.

They used a 25-foot pole equipped with a cable cutter in an attempt to slice through the aluminum strap that was restraining the solar array in place.

With the solar array partially opened and its hinge frozen by the cold of space, the astronauts attached a rope to it and, with all their strength, forced the array to spring fully open.

Skylab flew with one fully extended wing.

Mission Control soon confirmed that the newly freed solar wing was generating substantial power, providing the station with enough electricity to sustain itself.

“Pete and his crew saved the Skylab,” said fellow astronaut Tom Stafford, who commanded the Apollo 10 Moon mission in May of 1969.

The Skylab 2 crew went on to complete a 28-day mission, which also set a record for spaceflight endurance.

Skylab featured two docking ports to facilitate a crew rescue in the event of an Apollo command module failure.

NASA’s contingency plan included launching a Saturn IB rocket with a modified five-seat command service module (CM-119) to carry a two-person crew along with the three stranded astronauts from Skylab.

Skylab operated for two years, supporting three crewed missions totaling 171 days.

The final crew left the space station Feb. 8, 1974 after boosting it into a higher orbit, with the hope that it would remain stable until at least 1983, when a future space shuttle mission could revisit it.

Unfortunately, increased solar activity caused more drag on Skylab, leading to an earlier-than-expected orbital decay, two years before the first shuttle launch.

The 84.5-ton Skylab space station made its fiery descent into Earth’s atmosphere July 11, 1979.

NASA had announced that people in the Northern Hemisphere would be able to see Skylab’s final orbit.

I stood outside Wednesday, July 11, 1979, at 5:30 a.m., looking up into the early morning light, and I saw Skylab streak across the sky like a bright star.

Most of Skylab fell into the Indian Ocean, but some debris reached sparsely populated areas of western Australia.

No injuries were reported, but the Shire of Esperance, a local government area in western Australia, humorously fined NASA $400 for littering; NASA did not pay the fine.

The July 12, 1979, Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that 10 airline flights in the Minneapolis air traffic control area were delayed during the re-entry of Skylab.

The Esperance Municipal Museum exhibits several components from Skylab, including a large oxygen tank, a food storage freezer, and a section of the hatch.

Voices of light cross the Atlantic on glass strands

@Mark Ollig


The first transatlantic fiber-optic cable (TAT-8) transmitted telephone calls using laser light between the US, UK, and France Dec. 14, 1988.

“Welcome to this historic transatlantic crossing on a beam of light,” science fiction author Isaac Asimov said over the new fiber-optic cable during the inauguration ceremonies.

The cost of the TAT-8 project was reported to be $335 million, which is approximately $975 million in today’s dollars.

The TAT-8 story began in 1985 with AT&T’s trials of the OPTICAN system, a 66.5-mile fiber-optic Submarine Line (SL) system installed between Gran Canaria and Tenerife within the Canary Island chain.

OPTICAN tested the SL lightwave technology and fiber-optic cable for the TAT-8 system.

After sharks damaged cables in the Canary Islands, AT&T and Bell Labs created stronger cable armor to improve the reliability of the upcoming TAT-8 system.

The TAT-8 system was a collaboration of telecom companies from North America and Europe, managed by AT&T, British Telecom, and France Telecom.

AT&T’s Western Electric subsidiary manufactured the fiber-optic cable in partnership with Britain’s Standard Telephones and Cables and France’s CIT-Alcatel.

Three cable ships (CS) managed different sections of TAT-8’s installation.

The CS Vercors, a France Telecom vessel, laid the French branch of the TAT-8 cable to Penmarch, France.

The CS Alert, owned by British Telecom, was responsible for laying the UK branch of TAT-8, connecting it to Widemouth Bay, England.

The CS Long Lines, an AT&T ship, its name a reference to AT&T’s long-distance network, managed the laying of the primary transatlantic portion of the fiber-optic cable.

This large 512-foot vessel featured a 69-foot beam (its widest width) and a 29-foot draft (the depth at which it sits in the water), and it weighed approximately 11,271 tons.

It was powered by an electric turbine, reaching a top speed of 15 knots (17.3 mph), and navigated using advanced instruments like LORAN-C and gyrocompasses.

When installing the fiber-optic cable, the ship traveled at a much slower pace of one to three knots (1.15 to 3.45 mph), with a linear cable engine managing the payout speed and tension of the fiber-optic line as it entered the water.

CS Long Lines could carry about 1,800 nautical miles (2,071 miles) of fiber-optic cable in its cylindrical tanks.

Sections of the fiber-optic cable were spliced on the cable ship in clean rooms to prevent contamination.

Specialized equipment onboard the CS Long Lines, including a large crane-like gantry, allowed the crew to safely deploy the cable with a bit of slack, which helped reduce strain from ocean currents and seismic activity.

Throughout the TAT-8 installation, continuous electrical and optical tests using an Optical Time Domain Reflectometer (OTDR) ensured the fiber’s stability.

The TAT-8 system would transmit signals using a short wavelength of light, approximately 1.3 micrometers, through the hair-thin strands of single-mode fiber.

Injection lasers and photodiodes encoded the data as binary ones and zeros.

A protective armor layer surrounded the TAT-8 fiber-optic cable, which, for most of its journey across the ocean, was no thicker than a garden hose. It bundled three fiber pairs, totaling six glass strands.

The TAT-8 fiber-optic cable system supported a total capacity of 560 megabits per second, which could support 40,000 phone circuits using two active fiber pairs, each carrying 280 Mbps of traffic; the third fiber pair served as a backup.

Repeaters were installed every 25 to 43 miles along the cable, powered by high-voltage direct current (DC) from shore stations via a copper conductor within the cable.

Shore stations could also remotely monitor the performance and status of each repeater.

As the main fiber-optic cable neared Britain, a branching unit (BU) in a pressure-resistant casing on the ocean floor distributed both optical data signals and electrical power to Widemouth Bay, England, and Penmarch, France.

In December 1988, the TAT-8 fiber-optic cable system provided transatlantic phone service, connecting Tuckerton, NJ; Widemouth Bay, England; and Penmarch, France.

This first high-capacity digital link between the US and Europe showcased the benefits of fiber optics for long-distance communication, as well as the early global accessibility of the internet and the World Wide Web.

During the mid-to-late 1980s, fiber-optic technology was replacing copper telephone wires.

By 1987, the Winsted Telephone Company, where I worked, was routing its long-distance calls through the Nortel DMS-10 digital switching platform to an underground fiber-optic toll cable it had installed.

Prior to 1987, cellular and cable TV telephone services were not yet readily available, and long-distance calls in and out of Winsted relied on analog technology and a copper-paired toll cable to Howard Lake.

This toll cable, with its above-ground repeaters, was susceptible to lightning interference, causing occasional outages during storms.

The new underground fiber-optic cable was immune to electrical interference, such as lightning, ensuring reliable long-distance telephone service.

“After we switched to fiber, we hardly had any problems during storms,” said Mike Ollig, who worked with me at the telephone company.

During the early 2000s, I sometimes tested TDS Telecom’s fiber-optic network using a Tektronix OTDR.

To perform a test without interrupting customer service, I would first switch live traffic to a standby fiber pair.

The OTDR then sent pulses of light down the now-idle fiber, generating data based on the testing criteria.

The data was processed using the Tektronix FMTAP (Fiber Master Trace Analysis Program), which produced a detailed diagnostic map of the entire fiber-optic cable on my computer screen.

This map enabled me to identify everything from signal loss at a splice and microscopic flaws (microbends) to larger physical faults, such as sharp bends (macrobends).

It could even pinpoint a catastrophic fault, such as a fiber break, by detecting the massive reflection of the test light that reveals the break’s exact location.

TAT-8 was active until 2002, when newer transatlantic cables with greater capacity replaced it.

For the foreseeable future, fiber optics will remain the world’s dominant communications technology.