Korby's Connections: Playhouse was a time machine

I was driving down Country Club Drive by the Cloquet golf course when I spotted friend and fellow library board member Mary DuPont Hagen. She was outside the two-story, white house where she grew up, doing fall cleaning, painting, and yard work with her daughter.

I asked about the tiny replica house by the hedge row. Like the big white house, it had windows on all sides, a front door, bunk beds, and a shingled roof. But an adult could not stand up in it.

Mary said she spent many hours in the playhouse with her friends, even in the winter time.

I asked about the power cords. Get this, the playhouse had both a telephone and electricity.

“If my brothers were being tough on us and blocking our exit, I’d call my mom to come and straighten things out,” Mary said.

This was one luxurious playhouse. Somewhat different from the Scanlon version that was at the house where I grew up.

I had to ask my older brothers where our playhouse came from. The answer was that it was donated and moved from my uncle Matt’s house in Sunnyside. An old Boy Scouts lake dock formed the lower foundation. It had one window in the rear of the building. I’d estimate its dimensions were 8x8 feet. My dad repurposed old chicken coop wooden siding to refresh the walls. A new coat of yellow paint made the playhouse look pretty sharp.

By the time I was of age to go and visit the playhouse, probably age 5 or 6, I had to stand on my tiptoes to unlock the door.

There was an old mattress on the floor and a stick to hold the rear window open. It was comfortable and an escape from the real world. I played in there during the summers with my younger sister and all of our neighborhood friends. This probably lasted until we were 10 or 12, when baseball took precedence for me.

One big draw was the big assortment and pure volume of comic books. Kids’ TV was not much of a draw at the time. The comics collection came from my older brothers and many cousins. It was impressive. Of course, some titles have endured for the 60-plus years: Dennis the Menace, Blondie and Dagwood, Beetle Bailey, and Batman and Superman. But some have probably been long forgotten: Little Lulu (with freckles on your chin), Sad Sack, Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos, Woody Woodpecker, Archie and Veronica, Uncle Scrooge, Classics Illustrated “The Prince and the Pauper,” “Treasure Island,” “The Three Musketeers,” “Around the World in Eighty Days”, and those based on TV shows and movies Daniel Boone, “I Dream of Jeannie,” “Rio Bravo,” “Gunsmoke.”

Kids like me, who weren’t especially fond of reading, read them over and over. If we had only known what some of these treasures might fetch in mint condition in today’s market. I’m sure there was an original Spider-Man among the stacks.

It was very dark in the evenings in those old days by the playhouse. Streetlights and outside house lights were not as ubiquitous. Solar lights had not been invented yet. Since it was near a swamp with tall grass, kids would often gather fireflies (lightning bugs) and put them in Mason or mayonnaise jars. The northern lights were often visible.

My buddy Randy “Kraut” Peterson received a telescope as a Christmas present and we’d spend long hours looking at the craters of the moon and looking for the rings of Saturn. As grade-school classmates, we’d followed the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo space programs. Neil Armstrong hadn’t yet landed or walked on the moon.

As time went on and we grew up, the playhouse took on different roles. It served as a storage shed for lawnmowers and garden tools, a golf clubhouse for Crawley Country Club, and even a doghouse for my sisters terrier-spaniel. Eventually, it disappeared, likely going to a cousin’s place.

My wife told me that she, and her mostly Finnish friends, also had playhouses growing up on the Twin Lake farms outside of Cloquet. They were about the same size and often served as warming houses for kids who were waiting for the school bus. Was it a Finnish tradition or just common during this era? My research is inconclusive.

Growing up, we also had “forts” as shelters. Tree houses, hidden places amongst pine trees, and even snow igloos with tunnels that served as other playhouses. Our snow-challenged winters of late make snow castles nearly impossible.

It certainly was different times back then, when we played outside as much as possible year-round.

There are playgrounds at today’s schools and in neighborhoods there are plastic “houses” with swings and slides and climbing ropes. Probably none are supplied with comic books. I miss those times.

Steve Korby’s interest in writing goes back to when he was in fourth grade and editor of the Scan-Satellite school newspaper in Scanlon. He welcomes ideas for human interest stories and tales regarding Carlton County residents, projects, history, and plans c/o [email protected].