Bismarck, North Dakota

After leaving Minneapolis, the landscape soon gave way to gradual, rolling hills, with the occasional clump of trees that sheltered a few houses. I stopped just over the state line in the town of Fargo at a steakhouse called Doolittle’s. I enjoyed an immensely satisfying meal, grateful to be out of the car if only for short while.  Once I passed over into North Dakota, the endless fields looked increasingly windswept and dry. After seeing the beginning of a fence, I would drive several miles before seeing a group of cows grazing lazily in their vast pasture. An inconceivable amount of road would roll under the tires before I would come across a solitary mailbox, marking the end of the dirt driveway that disappeared off into the horizon, evidently that of the lonely owner of those cows.

50, 70, then 90 miles passed in which every exit bore the faded, blue sign reading, “No Services.” If you’re going to drive through North Dakota, make sure you have a full tank of gas, food, water, and a car that can handle some weather. If you get stuck out there, it may be hours, days even, before someone passes by who can help. I never really understood what the meaning of ‘big’ or ‘empty’ was before going to North Dakota. It shocked me that I was driving through an area that was about 287 times the geographical size of Bergen County, New Jersey (the county I was born in, which measures about 247 miles), but that contains only a little more than 75% of its inhabitants. That’s right, only three quarters the amount of people who live in Bergen County, New Jersey live in an area that is almost 287 times its size, North Dakota. Those are some mind-boggling numbers. Like I said, don’t break down in North Dakota.

After several long hours driving in the dark through the vast, desolate landscape, I crested a hill and exclaimed as the blanket of lights that is Bismarck emerged before me. I pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of the hotel I reserved several days before hand. While I was checking in, the extremely friendly man behind the front desk told me that I was lucky that I made a reservation because there is not a single hotel room to be found in town tonight. When I inquired what the draw was, he shrugged and replied that he didn’t really know, but with the economy booming because of the oil industry, people were flooding into the state. I accepted my room key with a smile, and drove around the building to the complete opposite end, where I was blessed with a tiny room very close to the outside door.

The next morning, I awoke earlier than usual with a surprising amount of energy, quickly dressed, and went to the Starbucks across the street. When I exited the back of the hotel, the chill in the late September air pleasantly cooled my skin. It was that first noticeable bite of autumn that relieved the months of thick air, dreadful heat, and penetrating sun. I was exhilarated by it, but I knew that in just a few weeks I would be cursing the freeze just as much as I did the blazing sun in the summertime.

After coffee, I ventured to the Capitol, the first of the sky-rise styled State Houses I’d been to so far. As accustomed as I had become to the classically styled Capitols complete with enormous dome, I must admit that I was guilty of my own acquired snobbery; I thought it looked kind of plain. “That’s their Capitol?” I believe was my exact thought.

When I entered the building, it became clear that I was not the first person to have that impression. Just about every person I spoke to leaped to the building’s defense before I even made a comment. Many highlighted the building’s efficient use of space, the project coming in under budget, and it’s functionality as benefits that far exceeded that of the traditionally styled Capitols. Our exuberant docent took us on a thorough tour, starting on the ground floor, where portraits of North Dakotans deserving of honor are displayed. Our guide pointed out the first one for whom the hall is named, Teddy Roosevelt, who is undoubtedly the most famous North Dakotan.

He made sure to note with passion that this building had 80% usable space, while the traditional Capitols only have about 30% usable space. It was completed in 1934 during the Great Depression, and due to economic hardship, they were forced to remove much of the décor from the original plans. A fifty-foot statue that was supposed to be placed in the entry plaza was scratched from the design, as well as other non-essential decoration in the House and Senate Chambers. This resulted in a rather plain, art deco inspired building.

A woman who was at the Capitol for another reason decided to take the tour with us after some good hearted cajoling from the tour guide. The main hall of the building, where the Senate and House Chambers along with the Governor’s Office were located, was dominated by enormous chandeliers that were long, skinny, and fashioned to look like a piece of wheat. After visiting the House and Senate Chambers, in which many different Senators greeted our guide enthusiastically, we visited the Governor’s office. Inside, there were little souvenir cards in the shape of North Dakota each hand-signed by the Governor. At first, I figured they were copies of his signature, but upon closer examination, I realized that each one was just a little bit different. Our guide asked the woman, who was laughing and a wonderful sport, if she would like one too, but she said that she didn’t because she wasn’t a big fan of the Governor. After some further prodding from our guide, she explained very matter-of-factly, “Before he was Governor, he screwed me on a deal. He’s a much better politician than he ever was a lawyer or businessman.” I respected her frankness, a characteristic that I had not seen very frequently since leaving New Jersey. To be honest myself, I occasionally miss the stark candor of my home state.

Our guide took us to the new addition, which houses the Supreme Court Chamber. The room, he explained, was strategically shaped so that anyone whispering in the back row would be heard clearly by all of the Justices. It was not uncommon, he added, for someone who was unaware of the design to make the mistake of saying something under their breath and be called out by one of the Justices. We then ventured upstairs to the observation deck, the highest floor of the building. Posted signs said that they no longer allow the public on the outside portion, and sure enough, the doors were locked. The reason, as explained by our guide, is a solemn mark of the times; they do not allow people on the outside deck for fear that a distraught soul may try to take their own life by jumping off. I lingered for a moment on the somber thought that we shouldn’t have to fear such things, and that more ought to be done to help those among us that struggle with depression and suicidal impulses.

On a lighter note, we were able to see out of numerous windows, which gave a staggeringly expansive view of the city and into the lands beyond. Adorning the walls in between the windows were historic pictures of the building and its predecessor, burning to the ground. Suspiciously, the legislature had voted against building a new Capitol shortly before the blaze, leaving many suspecting that there had been foul play. Those suspicions have never been proven. There was also a picture of North Dakota breaking the Guinness World Record for the most snow angels made at once with 8,962 people. Although the building wasn’t terribly similar to any other Capitol I’d been to, I enjoyed this tour the most because of the jovial tour guide and the honest woman who had been our temporary companion. The building was functional, tasteful, and everyone that I encountered inside had a bigger smile than almost anyone I’d encountered in any other Capitol so far. It was plain, but exceedingly pleasant.

As I exited the building, I learned that the museum was undergoing a massive renovation, and the entire building was closed, except for the gift shop. I paid a short visit, purchased a post card, and retreated back to my hotel. I was very tired, and I knew I should get as much rest as I could because tomorrow, I had an extremely long drive to Mount Rushmore and beyond.

Although my visit in North Dakota was brief and my experience limited, I came to appreciate the small-town feeling that was present throughout the entire state. Many people were in good spirits, enjoying the prosperity that the oil industry was bringing, and they imparted that attitude to all they interacted with, including myself. I enjoyed the Capitol tour in Bismarck more than any other I’d been to, and arguably it had be the least ostentatious building so far. The way the Senators interacted with the tour guide, and in fact the way everyone treated others within the building and the city, it seemed to be that although the surface of the Capitol was not terribly beautiful, the core of the institution was stronger and more stable than many others. I left North Dakota the following morning with a positive attitude, a renewed sense of excitement, and the reinforced determination needed to sustain me through the long, empty drive to Mount Rushmore.