I’ve been going to the park since I was an itty bitty kid. I have had parties in the picnic shelter, walked the dog countless times, and even gotten lost once or twice.
Fritz Loven Park is the largest (and only) city park in Lake Shore, Minnesota (pop. 1100). It is centered on Stony Brook, a pleasant but small stream. Stony Brook flows from a spine of glacial foothills in western Cass County, gradually picking up tributaries amongst the rolling farmland, before cutting down to the level of Upper Gull Lake. The head of navigation (except during spring flood) sits at a pleasant row of rock riffles in the park. Upstream, rocky riffles and small rapids continue for miles. Downstream, the brook calms as it winds through a wetland into the lake. Right below the babbling riffle is where Ridge Road crosses the brook, and where most of the developed area of the park sits. The road, just a one-car wide gravel path in the park, winds through thickets of pine trees on the north and south of the park. By Stony Brook, the road briefly widens into a small gravel parking lot, until sharp turning and narrowing to cross the stream on a decrepit former railcar turned bridge. Near the parking lot is a picnic shelter, a little fishing pier (Stony Brook is known to be excellent for trout), a fire ring, and an awfully stinky biffy. An even narrower drive leads up the hill, crowned by trees and a playground. A sledding hill washes down one of the other sides, and walking or skiing trails tie the developed area to acres of wild forest in all directions. Like any good shaggy-dog story, only now do we get to the real meat. Fritz Loven is an excellent name for a park. Three syllables, the first sharp and irregular, followed by the mellow sound of love-in. It is named for its prior inhabitant, an eccentric who used to live on the “golden eighty” acres that now make up the park. Fritz Loven was a gregarious hermit, living simply, but welcoming to neighbors, friends, and strangers who found themselves along Stony Brook. Most residents of a certain age (over 70, these days) have a Fritz story or two. Despite his seclusion he was friendly and apparently well educated. This man who lacked electricity, gas, a car, or even running water would quote Shakespeare, One tells of an aggressive misunderstanding with a bear. Another says he once ran an enterprising salesman off his land with a hockey stick. He was a skilled hunter and trapper, but apparently grew soft in his old age and showed them kindness. It is agreed that he would take his row boat down the lake to Bar Harbor for a refreshment now and then; everyone agrees that he always ordered the same thing, but some hold that it was a Budweiser while others claim Michelob. There is plenty unconfirmable about Fritz’ life. But we do know that he lived for a least a while in Chicago, played football for the Minneapolis Red Jackets for a season (at age 35!) and that he died in 1975. After his death, the land was left to the city, from whence it began its transformation into what it is today.
