Dorothy Marsh Bakke (June 5, 1910), second child born to Ludvig and Martina Hareland of Hannaford, had three sisters and three brothers: Marie Hilyard, Plentywood, Montana; Sidney Hareland (deceased), Hannaford; Myrtle Ohman, Rigby, Idaho; Irene Jordet (deceased), Anchorage, Alaska; and Pete Hareland, Wahpeton, North Dakota.

I have many good memories of our life on the farm, located two miles east of Hannaford.  All had to work hard on our dairy farm with sheep, wheat and hay crops.  We were expected to do our share, but there were good times, too.  Our closest neighbors, Antonson, Stone, Stephensens and Conrad Olson, helped us to grow up and they put up with the Hareland kids.  So I could be near my dad who was building the Walum Church, I spent my first day of school hiding in the family car.

Dad was a proud man who would accept no handouts or be indebted to no one.  He went to Duluth to work as a carpenter in the shipyards during the war.  Before leaving, he built another house at the farm for the renters, Magnus Haugen and Gabriel Malmin.  Their children were like brothers and sisters to us.

In 1926, Dad told us we were going to lose the farm.  We would have to get out and look for other work.  In retrospect, that was the best that ever happened to me because I got a job at Otteson's Cafe and Drug Store and discovered I liked working with and for people better than with all the animals on the farm.

Mr. Otteson, my first boss, made a big difference in my life.  Just coming in from the hay field the day before the 4th, and not ever being in or dealing with the public before, he made things a lot easier for me.  I never knew his first name because we were taught never to use an elder's first name.  Ottesons had three children (Owen, Osborn and Virginia) and a big dog.  Farm hand, Bill, did the chores around there.

I remember staying with Ruth Harris' family and Oscar Ashlands when I drove my own car and moved to Hannaford after selling all my cows and sheep, and the farewell party they had for me at the Freer home that had beautiful hardwood floors and a player piano.

I remember working with Betsy Kolvick, the best natured person I have ever worked with, who made work fun; Mrs. Brekke, the best cook in the world as far as I'm concerned; and our customers.  Hank Harris, the big jolly man, was a joy although he appeared to be so grumpy.

I remember the big ski slide that was built.  Skiers from all over came.  We were so busy at Otteson's serving everyone.  I served lunches at local dances with the beautiful music of the Vic and Pete Grenna Orchestra.  My crush on the two was the first time I realized I was a girl.

Dad had gone to Montana to look for work.  He had a brother, Fred, at Redstone, Montana  Both did carpenter work and built many houses in this area.  The rest of the family came to Plentywood, Montana in 1927, by train spending the first night in Bainville, Montana, because we had to change trains.

Mr. Otteson had given me the best recommendation, and because of him, I got a job at the Plentywood Rexall Store.  I had worked for Otteson for $9.00 a week.  My Rexall job paid $10, seven days a week.  No such thing as 8-hour days.  More like 10 or 12.  From then on, I could always get a job and used to say, "I've worked in every business place except the Ford Garage." Now looking back on my working days, the years went by too fast.

I married Alfred "Alf" Marsh in 1930.  We had two children.  Arlene, 1931, deceased; and Ron, 1933.  Alf passed away in 1966, at age 61.  In 1969, I married Virgil Bakke, a farmer in Westby, Montana.  We lived on the farm in the summer and spent the winter months in California, traveled to Holland and Cairo, Egypt, to visit Virgil's daughter and son, and went to Norway to visit my relatives.  These last years we have had to stay put because my husband has Alzheimers disease and has spent nearly four years in the nursing home.

The last time I was in Hannaford was for the reunion of school and town.  My hometown looked so clean and polished - the evergreens as though they had been hand scrubbed.  The people there deserve credit for all the work done, and at the cemetery where my folks and brother are buried.  I'm proud to be from such a caring town.

Source:  Hannaford Area History North Dakota Centennial 1889 - 1989 Page 84