Murder in Chisago County by Brian Johnson

Author:Brian Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arcadia Publishing Inc.
Published: 2019-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

Fred and Christine Lundeen with their daughters—(from left) Ellen, Alvira, Olga and Freda. Author’s collection.

The Harris fire wasn’t Ellen’s first brush with tragedy and premature death. A few years before the fire, Matt and Ellen’s son Richard was struck and killed by a car near the family’s home. Richard Scherer was only four years old and is laid to rest at First Lutheran Cemetery, just a few steps from the grave that holds Alvira and her children—and even closer to the final resting place of Henry Johnson, Albin’s brother. Affectionately known as “Dickie,” the little boy was hit by the car on November 9, 1929, and he died from his injuries three hours later. Dickie was crossing the pavement when he was struck by a Ford traveling south toward Minneapolis. Three young women in the car “stopped and picked up the boy, and took him to the Grant Hotel, where he was attended by Dr. Holmes,” a local newspaper reported. “Later, he was taken to his home, where he passed away. Everything possible was done to save the little fellow’s life, but he was injured so badly it was of no avail....He received two scalp wounds, leg broken in two places and other injuries.” Funeral services were held at First Lutheran Church in Rush City.

Decades later, at her mother’s funeral, Ellen did her best to stay composed. She nervously clutched a tissue as the preacher assured the mourners that “the day is coming when we can meet Mrs. Lundeen again before God’s throne.”

Matt Scherer, Ellen’s husband, died in the early 1960s. In a bizarre coincidence, Matt suffered a fatal heart attack while sitting in the barber’s chair, which is precisely how Matt’s own father had died years earlier.

Matt was an avid hunter and fisherman, and he knew how to handle a firearm. He passed along his formidable shooting skills to his boys. One son in particular, Ralph, was a crack shot with a rifle. The elder Scherer was “quite a hunter,” but “when his son got to be a better shot than he was, he quit hunting,” recalled Betty Kollas, Alvira’s niece. When he wasn’t hunting or fishing, Scherer worked at a flour mill in Rush City. He tried in vain to get his brother-in-law Albin a job at the mill.

After the fire, Matt kept a gun close to his bed. “He thought that maybe Albin had it in for him, because Matt worked at the mill in town and Albin needed a job [and Matt couldn’t get him in],” Jeanette Johnson said.

Ellen’s younger sister, Freda Peterson, never had it in for anybody—with the possible exception of the annoying guy who peddled appliances on TV and interrupted her favorite shows. Freda and her husband, Fred, lived in Hood River, Oregon, a town that could have inspired a Norman Rockwell painting or a John Denver song. Fruit trees bogged down with cherries, fresh country air and breathtaking views of Mount Hood and Mount Adams fill the senses of all who pass through.

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