Minnesotans Like Minnesota

I have spent the entirety of my (almost) 27 years of life living in Minnesota. And holy buckets, I love this state. But even I’ll admit that we march to the beat of a different drummer over here. Just take a look at our recent Presidential Caucus results for the latest example of Minnesota’s ‘different-ness’. And sure, we may be a bit self-centered. But hey, it’s pretty comforting to see these attitudes have a long tradition!

…I’m also glad we settled on “Minnesotan” instead of “Minnesotian”.

A Representative Minnesotian – Stillwater Republican – March 8, 1870

The editor of the Superior Tribune, (Wis.) who has lived in Minnesota, gives the following as the characteristics of a Minnesotian:

“We lived among the Minnesotians long enough to know that they are indeed “a peculiar people,” and that they are always ready for any project, however reckless, however desperate, or however unjust to others which promises to advance the interests of favorite localities, or the material prosperity of their State.

Taken as a whole, but the Minnesotians are a good set of fellows, but they are as different from the staid people of Wisconsin, as the mercurial, nervous and wiry little Frenchman is from the grand old German, who smokes his pipe and “[drinks] his lager [beer]” and takes every thing coolly and deliberately.

A representative Minnesotian is a man who has the ingenuity of the Yankee, the energy and perseverance of the ant, the cunning of the fox, the selfishness of the miser, together with the courage of the bovine who undertook the butt the engine off the track.

He is one who will freely shell out his money to carry out any favorite scheme – one who carries many of his points by “bluff” – one who has audacity, effrontery and “cheek” enough for any emergency, and whose State pride is strong enough to lead him to work for Minnesota and Minnesota enterprises, first, last and all the time, and under all circumstances and at whatever costs.”

The Plaster Doctor – Healin’ “Till” It Hurts

by Anita Buck

Plaster doctor, wonder healer, unorthodox practitioner, defendant in court – these were just some of the titles given to a man named John Till. And he earned every one of them.

Till offered “miracle cures” that were sought by people from all around the St. Croix River Valley. He had patients from Stillwater and Marine, from the Twin Cities, and from many other towns throughout Minnesota and Wisconsin. But John Till was not a licensed doctor, a matter that frequently landed him before judges.

Known primarily as “the plaster doctor”, Till practiced his healing art in Hudson, New Richmond, Somerset, and Turtle Lake, Wisconsin in the first two decades of the 1900s. He used a salve and a plaster, both touted to have the power to pull out infections. The salved was supposed to contain a mysterious ingredient called 4X. The plaster was a concoction of kerosene and croton oil, both of which are irritants. Till – and his patients – believed that the plaster drew the poison out of the body, stimulating accelerated healing. No matter what the complaint, patients stripped to the waist and held onto a rail while “Doctor” Till applied the plaster to the back from the neck to the bottom of the spine. After that, they wore cotton batting sewn into their clothes to soak up the matter that ran from the inflamed skin. Till’s patients found the treatment to be extremely painful, but that didn’t stop them from flocking by train, buggy, carriage, and riverboat to wherever he was practicing.

John Till was born in Austria in 1870. He worked for a blacksmith for a while, and during that time learned about various folk cures. At age 28, he immigrated to Canada, where he worked as a lumberjack and practiced medicine on the side. His career took off after the “miracle cure” of Mrs. Octave Cloutier of Somerset, Wisconsin. Till treated her infected cheek with his mysterious medicine, and the remedy worked overnight. When word of the cure spread, he left the lumber camp and set up shop in the Cloutier farm home. Immediately be became known as the Wonder Healer or the Plaster Doctor of Somerset. Although Till never called himself “doctor,” his patients certainly did.

After a time, he moved to New Richmond, Wisconsin. An article in the New Richmond News reported that many of the passengers who came in at the city’s depot were nearly dead when they were taken off the trains. Still, they managed to survive a rough buggy ride out to Till’s establishment a couple of miles north of town. The report continued, “About every third home in New Richmond would seem to have two or three of these ‘diers’ [sic]. What a dismal site, but Old John laughed all the way to the bank.”

Interestingly, the man didn’t charge his patients per se, rather he simply left a bucket on the table, and many emptied their pockets into the donation container after their “plasterings”. According to an anonymous letter received by Marie Lynch of New Richmond, “Old John Till” arrived at the New Richmond bank with a nice team of horses and carriage. He was a small man with hair long and unkempt, in bare feet, wearing earrings, and carrying two large bags of money.

In the Somerset Triple Centennial Book, it is recorded Till was supposed to have deposited $3,000 every two weeks. That account, though, was said to be exaggerated.

John Till didn’t spend all his time treating patients. He spent quite a bit of time in court. He was plagued by lawsuits and harassed, probably rightly, by the Wisconsin Medical Board. Early in his career he was tried on a charge of practicing medicine unlawfully, and was found not guilty by a jury of six men. Later, the plaster doctor appeared in circuit court in Barron County, Wisconsin, again on the charge of practicing medicine without a license. A jury only took 45 minutes to find him guilty of the charge. Even though Till was hauled to court a number of times, he generally managed to secure a ‘not guilty’ ruling by either a jury or by appeals to high courts. Of course, he wasn’t quite able to maintain that spotless record.

An article in the New Richmond News from May 11, 1921, reported that he started serving a six-month sentence in the local jail for practicing medicine without a license. After that term, he apparently had his fill of the American legal-system’s “hospitality” and him and his wife, Hedwig, departed for Germany, probably bringing a good sum of American dollars with them. Eventually, he settled in the Sudetenland. The former healer wrote to a fanner in Stanton, Wisconsin, requesting 100 pounds of seed barley, which was sent to him. His son, John Till Jr., visited New Richmond, and reported that his father owned a large form, and delighted at being a country gentleman. His mother, he said, was enjoying life. Apparently his stack of American dollars was allowed him to take advantage of Germany’s post-World War I run-away inflation.

After Till Senior’s departure from the United States, it was rumored that his “secret salve”, the miracle plaster, was being solid from a farm home near Somerset.

The plaster doctor then disappeared from our American sources for a few decades. He finally resurfaced in in February 1947, when the Stillwater Gazette reported his return from Germany. The good “doctor” was broke.

World War II had hit him hard financially. He lost his property and decided to return to his old stomping grounds. He planned to live near Kiel, Wisconsin. It was rumored he would go back into the plaster business. Whether he did or not is unknown. If so, his renewed career was short. John Till died in July of 1947 at the age of 77.

Even though the records show that many of his patients suffered terribly at the hands of John Till, there are just as many people from both side of the St. Croix River who swore by his skill and miracle cure. Whether he be quack-pot or hero – the Plaster Doctor is long gone, yet John Till lives on as a legendary figure of the Valley’s history.