Last weekend, high school seniors across North Dakota tossed their graduation caps into the air as they closed the books on this chapter of their lives. But in one small town, the final chapter was written as the doors closed at school for the final time.
The class of 2024 will remember the spring they graduated for years to come: temperatures were chilly, lots of rain soaked the soil and in some areas, even a few inches of snow fell. But under the cloud cover, one small school in one small town sent off its final graduating class of seniors.
Edmore, North Dakota is located in the northeastern corner of Ramsey County. As of the 2020 census, 139 people live there. And this year, the town congratulated its senior class from the Edmore School – a class of just two students.
Principal Diane Martinson says in all, seventeen students attended the K-12 school this year. For several years, the town and school district has done whatever it took to keep the school staffed and the students served. But this year, the writing was on the wall: it was time. Martinson, herself, had stepped up to serve in any way she could to keep it going as long as it did.
“In 2008 I started as business manager, and then our librarian and our teachers were starting to leave – I saw it happening – so I decided to go back to school and get my education degree. And then I got my librarian certificate, so we’d have a librarian because that’s mandated by the state. And then, our principal was going to leave and I just… you know… as you knew the school and town were getting smaller, nobody wanted to move here. They wanted the bigger cities, the bigger opportunities, so I went back and got my administrative credentials in 2015, and I’ve been principal ever since.”
The city of Edmore was founded in 1901, with its school opening in 1920. The census that year put the city at just over 500 residents, the most people to ever reside there. The city hovered around 400 residents through the 70s and 80s, when the United States Army’s Safeguard anti-ballistic missile program established the Stanley R. Mickelson Safeguard Complex close to nearby Nekoma. The complex provided launch and control for 30 anti-ballistic missiles, and 70 shorter range sprint missiles. And while all this was going on, Tammy Berg was getting ready to graduate.
“Back then it was the missile up at Nekoma, so these kids would come and go with their parents as the missile thing evolved. We had a lot of kids! The lockers here, we shared three deep – we had three kids, and GIRLS! You know, that would share those lockers. There’s a couple shelves, and then there’s the bottom, and your winter coat went there, and your girl stuff and your books. We were tight back in those days!”
By the time Doug Freije graduated in 1982, the missile program was over. The complex was deactivated in April of 1976, after only six months of full operational capacity. As the military families left the area, there were plenty of local kids around to keep things… competitive.
“When I was a freshman, we didn’t have enough kids for football and so that’s when football went away. But we had basketball and baseball, track. When I was in high school, we were at the state basketball tournament all three years… we never did win it, we got second two times, my junior and senior year. Baseball, we had a good baseball team. ’79, we won the state Babe Ruth. ’80 and ’81 we won the state high school championship, and then my senior year in 1982 we won the state legion championship. So we had a good little run there with sports,”
Freije has been on the school board for the past 19 years, and for the last nine of those he’s been president. As population in Edmore and surrounding communities began to thin, the schools would combine forces to give students opportunities to play on sports teams. But eventually, schools in these small cities – like Adams, or Hampden – either couldn’t keep up with staffing demands, or get enough kids to attend. Tough decisions had to be made.
“You can’t find teachers, and honestly if somebody graduates out of NDSU or even UND, who wants to come to Edmore? A town of 60, 70 people, and teach here? I mean, it’s a good way to start your career, and you get paid well. But there’s nothing to do here, so it’s hard to get people to come here to teach. The building we have, the school, we provide housing and meals for teachers and everything; it’s a pretty good gig. But nobody wants to come here.”
Freije says the Edmore school district was able to secure five full time teachers to educate their students – all of them are from the Philippines. He says they were eager to come and gain the work experience, which worked out well for them.
Those teachers have made arrangements to begin new jobs in surrounding communities, and parents of students that attended classes in Edmore are still determining where to send them to school – be it Landgon to the north, or Lakota to the south. But that still leaves the community of Edmore with a beloved building no one is ready to let go of just yet.
Principal Diane Martinson says the Edmore School serves as a time capsule for its residents, and returning alumni.
“This is only a fraction of the trophies; we kept some of the bigger trophies out here,” she says, motioning to a large case of plated plaques, cups and medals. “There’s a room down the hall, packed with trophies. Two weeks ago I got a call from a lady, she’s 63 years old. And she said, if the school closes and it doesn’t get to be a community center, can I get my John Philip Sousa award?’ I have looked everywhere, and I tell you, I cannot find this lady’s trophy.”
Trophies denoting athletic, academic and musical triumphs of Edmore students dating all the way back to the 1920s can be found tucked away in cases, picture windows, unused rooms and even closets throughout the school – as if to prove just how proud and serious students have been throughout the decades here in Edmore. And while these halls will no longer accumulate those accolades, the community has ideas for the building. Plans have been drawn up to propose the city of Edmore use the building as a community center; residents already can come and go as they please to use the weight room. Perhaps funerals, fundraisers, or town events could be held here. It’s even been suggested one of the classrooms could house a golf simulator. But all that hinges upon what’s decided in Bismarck. Diane’s husband John, who has worn many hats in service to the school over the years, is hopeful “local control” will be given deference.
“As you go up in government, you look at a bigger picture,” he said. “That’s why when you’re looking at a smaller area, you’re supposed to listen to those people because they know what’s best for that area. You might know what’s best for YOUR area, depending on the level of government you’re in. Whatever is happening in that spot, those are the people that are affected. What happens here doesn’t affect people on a state level – it only affects people in this community.”
“Who knows what they’ll decide,” Diane said. “It was legislative intent to allow us to do it, but we’ll have to see if it goes through. You know, there’s so many people in the summertime who come back to the school and walk through, look at their pictures on the wall… we had a grad from years ago, back in the 70s probably – he came in and had to take me to the gym and tell me how he got to ride his motorcycle in, he was up for King, and he rode in on his motorcycle, picked up the Queen candidate and rode out… I said, there’s no way they let you come in here and ride on this floor! But the memories they tell you, you know… they just love looking at the pictures on the wall, and reminiscing. I’m hopeful they can continue to do that.”
Before graduation, citizens of Edmore held a banquet to recognize the school’s last pupils for their academic achievements. 50 years after the missile complex excitement pulsed through the town, Tammy Berg was there to regale those students with memories of her glory days.
“This past Sunday they had an awards evening, a supper and gave awards, and I spoke about the differences between now and 50 years ago. We had miniskirts, and I told them I was a starter on the basketball team back in the day. And in my mind, I was kind of a jock! Well then one of my teammates from all those years ago sent me an article about our team, and my name wasn’t even in there and I hadn’t scored any points! And this gal was the jock; her name was all over the article,” Tammy chuckles to herself. “But, simple things like that! We graduated 35 students, compared to the two graduating today.”
It’s clear that whatever the next step is for the Edmore School – those who live here remain proud, and committed to preserving its memory for whatever generations may come.