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It was cold and rainy on Saturday, April 30, but that didn’t deter a hearty crowd of folks from turning out to celebrate the dedication of the Bally Blacksmith Shop. And stepping into the two buildings that make up the enterprise was like stepping back into time: There were boxes of axes, picaroons, chains of all different weights and sizes, motors from a long gone era, horseshoes, and blacksmithing tools neatly placed everywhere.
The Cook County Historical Society hosted the event. Marja Erickson, president of the CCHS, opened the dedication with a greeting. She was followed by the CCHS Director of Operations, Katie Clark, who gave a brief history of the blacksmith shop that opened in 1911 and closed in 2010. Clark said as a youth, she would visit Grand Marais with her parents, and she would peek into the windows of the Blacksmith shop, fascinated by the work that took place there. As an adult, Katie graduated from the University of Minnesota with a strong interest in metalwork and blacksmithing, and today in her free time, she operates Clark Metal Studio. She never met Bill Bally, she said, but after getting the CCHS Director position and spending copious amounts of time cleaning, sorting, cataloging, and getting the shop ready for the public, she added, “I finally got to be part of the story.”
Don Hammer, artist, blacksmith, and educator, comes from a long line of Blacksmiths. Earlier in the day, he had demonstrated foraging, making a tool with simple tools, lots of muscle, and fire.
During the dedication, Hammer explained that in the 19th century, blacksmithing was in its heyday. He said that to grow towns and villages, they had to have a talented blacksmith. In early to mid-1800, Blacksmiths made and repaired farm equipment, made tools for carpenters, and created and fixed broken machinery. A good blacksmith made something that would last. “Your town wouldn’t grow without a good blacksmith,” Hammer said. Coming into the 20th-century, blacksmiths became more repair and service shops, places where welding was done and far less fabricating, said Hammer adding, “One hundred years later, blacksmith shops are pretty nearly gone.”
Joan Buffetta said Bill Bally was a “crazy uncle.” Not in a bad way, of course, but Bill had his penchant for feeding every chipmunk in town (his shop was filled with friendly chipmunks) and ducks, while his keeping children out of the shop was pretty legendary. “He wouldn’t let children hang out inside the shop,” said Joan. Outside, yes. Instead, Bill would ask his little nieces and nephews if they wanted to win a prize. Of course, the answer was yes. So then, when the kids were little (ages 6 to 8), he would tell them he would give them a prize if they threw every rock into Lake Superior. Well, that never happened, Joan said, but after a couple of hours of trying, they would come back and explain they had done their best, but there were still a couple of rocks on the shore. So, despite failing, Bill would “grudgingly” take them over to Sven & Oles and buy them pizza.
One time Joan said Bill asked her to drive him to town in his truck down the steep Gunflint Trail. She explained to him that she had never driven a stick shift and was worried something terrible might happen. Bill said, “That’s okay, there are lots of trucks in the harbor.”
And if something happened to the truck before it hit the water, well, Bill could fix it.
Next year, said Clark, “I will pick a warmer time of year for another celebration of the Bally Blacksmith Shop.”
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