Some weeks ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no magazine articles to write, and nothing particular to interest me in the Twin Cities, I thought I would drive about a little and see the southeast part of the state.
I think fondly of Red Wing. I went there years ago to inform an article about the place for a different magazine (now defunct, for reasons wholly unrelated to the quality of that article). I brought along my then-girlfriend, who must surely have been impressed by the sort of man who travels out of town “on business,” and seemed equally eager to visit Red Wing now that the Scheller Gem rests on her finger.
Here I feel I ought to have played the role of Stage Manager, summarizing Red Wing’s geography, naming its notable residents, and serving choice morsels of its history. There was a lot of that in the previous article; real bangers, such as “President Rutherford B. Hayes overnighted at Downtown Red Wing’s St. James Hotel in 1878,” and an especially tragic bit about a paddleboat named the Sea Wing and 98 people who never should have boarded it.
But this was to be no field trip. It was only a time to step out of my skin a little, and do anything other than look at a screen.
Put me on record as having never labeled Red Wing a “ghost town.” It’s a bustling, vibrant community filled with shopping and dining and art and culture and every other good thing a community can be filled with. With that being said, I love the quietness of downtown, where old brick buildings rise up like so many mastodons frozen in tundra, and which smells like warm malt syrup when the nearby linseed oil refinery is refining.
We leaned against the railing at Levee Park, facing the river and pretending not to admire the man who figured out the world. He was fishing, at least three high-ABV ice-brewed lagers deep at that moment, and engaged in deep philosophical conversation with his dog – a mongrel dressed in a special vest which allows her inside businesses.
“I wish I were him,” I said to my wife. I still do.
And we visited Red Wing Confectionery, where we bought chocolates shaped like fish and tractors.
And we shopped at Red Wing Shoes, where we observed the famed size 638-1/2 boot and stood in firm agreement that it really and truly is very large.
And we browsed the Uffda Shop, where we entered into similarly mutual agreement that we must purchase jars of Swedish lingonberry preserve to give as gifts to my wife’s sisters.
And we would have toured the Aliveo Military Museum if not for a certain party member’s inexplicable apathy toward war memorabilia.
“Honey,” I said to that very party member. “Do you remember all those years ago when we had lunch at the St. James Hotel, and I asked for us to be reseated in a part of the dining room where we wouldn’t have to look at the boomer wearing a fishnet shirt?” She remembered, but only because I’ve brought it up so many times before.
We didn’t come close to exhausting everything Red Wing has to offer. We self-flagellatingly deprived ourselves of experiencing the Pottery Museum, the panoramic view from Barn Bluff, and a live show at the Sheldon Theatre of Performing Arts. We didn’t even drink responsibly at Red Wing Barrel House (the first established bar in Minnesota, which someone on Reddit very Minnesotanly described as “a pretty dang great place to hang out”).
Next time. There’s always next time.
And besides, we couldn’t have stayed much longer without seriously cutting into our next important stop: fabulous Treasure Island Resort and Casino in Welch, where we encountered the most devilish “More More Chilli” slot machine ever assembled. We failed miserably at lining up chihuahuas, banditos, roosters, and chile peppers. I keep meaning to ask my accountant if we can spin the damage as a tax-deductible donation to the Prairie Island Indian Community, but he has apparently been celebrating Passover and unavailable for the past two months.
You can’t win ‘em all. But you can be in Red Wing in about an hour if you leave your home right now, which is quite a nice consolation prize. So long as you promise not to spend any money there that you otherwise could have in Eden Prairie, then you're encouraged to plan your visit at RedWing.org.