As usual, anything of importance, anything of local interest or anything that would have serious consequence within the community of Solon Springs or the surrounding countryside is born in the hearts and minds of those great thinkers who occupy the stools at the center of the local universe, Prevost's Restaurant and Tavern.

It was a quiet Saturday night and the TV had gotten too boring to watch when the conversations started in earnest. Subjects ranged from sex to housework. It was difficult to determine which topic held sway because the most frequently heard response was, "You would have to check with my wife on that".

But then, the situation changed. A relative newcomer to the area came in and after a few minutes of exchanging amenities, he, in a rather offhanded manner, asked the gathered multitude if anyone had read the afternoon Superior Telegram.

Now as everyone in the area knows, the Prevost regulars are as well read as any comparable group in Douglas County. So when everybody present answered in the negative, a look that was either bemused or incredulous crossed the newcomer's face and forced him to reiterate what the Telegram said, striving to add depth to the conversation. "Don't you know," he began, in tones that indicated that he may have been a relative newcomer to Prevost's, but certainly not at all unaware of the language spoken in the parts. "Don't you know, that the government is trying to get rid of the USS Des Moines and it's up for grabs to any interested party. The competition for such a well known warship with an almost unmatched history was bound to be great, but he figured that Solon Springs had as good a shot at getting it as anyone else.

The silence that greeted the announcement was as awesome as if John Wayne had been outdrawn by a bad guy in a western movie.

Said silence was quickly replaced by a hum of mixed voices which became a crescendo of jumbled voices which became a growing clamor until one voice took charge and told everyone present to shut up, and to every one's surprise, it worked. The speaker took the floor, which was another surprise. It was the first time in memory when a person telling a Prevost crowd to shut up didn't have to get up off the floor to continue.

It seems that a chord had been stricken. Every man, and the few ladies present, thought it would be a great move to have the Des Moines as the town's very own historic monument. It would put Minnesota's Paul Bunyon and his Blue Ox, Babe, to shame.

But the problem of formulating a plan that the government could accept was something that needed further discussion. What better way than to have an open forum where each person had a say in the entire operation. It was determined they would have their meetings under a universally accepted rule of order that would give everyone an equal chance to be heard. In the ensuing discussion regarding a name for the system they would use, it was decided they would call it "Bobby's Way of Doing Things", which eventually became better known as "Robert's Rules of Order"in more sophisticated society.

At the first meeting, the initial inquiry concerned the location of the Des Moines at the present time and how could it be moved to Solon Springs? The answer to the first part of the question was easy. One member of the group who had Navy experience said that it was either at the Base in San Diego or at the Brooklyn Navy yard. To get it to Solon would be a snap. You could go through the St. Lawrence Waterway and proceed directly into Lake Superior, or, if it was on the West Coast, take it through the Panama Canal and up the Atlantic Coast and then to the St. Lawrence Waterway to Lake Superior. When he was asked how to get it to Solon, he became a little upset and asked a question of his own. "How the heck do I know? I'm only a tourist. I just stopped in for something to eat, and you expect me to solve all your problems! With almost everyone apologizing for asking too much of an outsider, the locals went to work to find a solution to the vexing situation.

There were suggestions to sail it down any of the rivers and streams that mark the maps of the county. These ideas were declared unacceptable because of the difficulty in getting the Des Moines under some of the small bridges over many of the rivers. Putting the boat on big trailers and driving them down US Hwy. 53 was also ruled out for the same reason. It would take a miracle to squeeze it under a highway overpass.

There were several more meetings trying to come up with the answer that would solve the dilemma facing the intrepid Solonites. Inquiries to friends at the White Birch were of no avail. Questions to associates at Gordon, Minong, Hawthorne and Lake Nebagamon also proved fruitless.

The quest's end came sooner than expected. The same newspaper that had spawned the idea of getting the Des Moines for Solon Springs signaled the end with a small story in the back pages telling of the disposition of the Cruiser named after the capital of Iowa. It was little solace to those who had spent so much time and effort in a valiant attempt to bring the trophy to their home town. The thoughts of the ship on Lake St. Croix, the possibility of using it as a restaurant or an emergency home to wayfarers traveling through the county, the idea of having it docked across the lake and making it a bridge to use without waiting for the winter freeze would have to be postponed. The solution would be left for another time or another season.

But there was still some hope. The same guy who called attention to the Des Moines in the first place spoke once again. He mentioned the fact that the life boats from the Cruiser were still available. If the town wanted to establish a boat rental agency all they had to do was to make a bid to the federal government and they could have their own fleet on lake St. Croix.

Perhaps it wouldn't create the same extravaganza on the Fourth of July that the Cruiser would have accomplished, but it would be a more tranquil scene, one in keeping with the tradition of peace and serenity that is Solon Springs.