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Les Haugen
Among sepia-tinted photos adorning the
hallway of Les and Betty Haugen's home in McKenzie one
finds wonderful conversation pieces: the beauty of Betty's
youthful countenance; black flumes of oil towering in
great bursts from a Texas oil well drilled by her father
in years long past; and letters addressed to Les, signed
by J. Edgar Hoover, the venerable director of the F.B.I.
for nearly fifty years beginning in 1924, one praising Les
for the vital role he played in capturing "public enemy
number one", Irving Charles Chapman.
Tall as the mountains of South Dakota where he was born
and raised, Les Haugen is at once as rugged. He came into
the world on January 14 in the Standing Rock Indian
Reservation located in the flatlands of the border between
North and South Dakota. Home of the Hunkpapa and Blackfeet
bands of the Great Sioux Nation, among others, the
reservation was part of the sad history of the Hunkpapa
band's spiritual leader, Sitting Bull, and the dark legacy
of Wounded Knee.
Les' family resided on the reservation by virtue of his
father's trade as a builder of houses for the Indian
families who lived there. When his younger brother became
ill, Les spent his tender years in the home of his
grandparents, Norwegian immigrants who operated a thriving
360-acre homestead allotted them in 1885, their base 160
acres doubled by their willingness to plant trees on the
bare landscape.
Les returned home with his parents and brother, who were
by then living in Ipswich, South Dakota, before starting
school at the age of six.
During his high school and college years, the latter spent
at the University of South Dakota, Les was a star football
player. "The Ipswich Flash" recalls one of his first
experiences on the collegiate field during homecoming:
U.S.D.'s rivals, South Dakota State, were fresh from
defeating the University of Wisconsin and proudly sported
new uniforms that were the reward of a satisfied booster.
Undaunted, Les and his team won the match seven to two.
"That's the first time I ever had the experience of being
carried off the ball field; that was a thrill," Les smiles
brightly, his eyes dancing at the memory.
The football hero bore with equanimity the job that paid
his way through college, washing dishes at the university
for four years. The job was made possible by Les'
friendship with Ipswich lawyer, banker and politician Plin
Beebe, whose contacts secured the position for young
Haugen. Beebe sent $5.00 per month to Les during his
college years, with the admonition that the money not be
used for tuition, clothes or "anything but your butterfly
life."
In his fifth year of college, now pursuing a degree in law
after completing his undergraduate degree, Les coached the
freshman football team while continuing to play for the
varsity team. After graduating from law school and passing
the bar in 1939, he pursued the dream that earned the
letter now showcased in his hallway.
"I had always wanted to be an investigator and F.B.I.
man," he relates, though friends had deemed him foolish
not to practice law as an attorney. He submitted his
application to the F.B.I. with a prayer that he would be
selected, knowing no agent had ever been chosen from South
Dakota.
His acceptance as an agent was not without its sacrifices;
the agency demanded he retire the only suit he owned,
declaring its green color would undermine his work. "He
was from South Dakota and looked like it," laughs Betty.
"I started buying better clothes from then on," Les grins.
The F.B.I. soon learned there was more to the green-suited
boy from South Dakota than athletic prowess and
intelligence. His expertise as a marksman was equaled by
the calm, cool demeanor Haugen displayed through each
six-month assignment, the maximum amount of time Hoover
deemed safe for an agent to remain in one locale. It was
during a stint in Jackson, Mississippi in February, 1940
that Les played a major role in the simultaneous capture
and death of Irving Charles Chapman. Imprisoned for
multiple bank robberies and murder, Chapman had escaped
from the Huntsville Prison in Texas. His flight ended in a
dead end when F.B.I. agents set up a barricade along the
highway Chapman had chosen as his escape route. Unwilling
to surrender, Les relates, "He lost his life when he tried
to pull his gun and we fired back."
Les pursued his dream through six-month intervals in
Buffalo, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, New York City, and
Miami, where summers, like magnets, attracted underworld
characters. By 1951 - rootless, with "no home, nothing
anywhere" - Les decided he'd had enough and resigned his
position. He wound up in Minneapolis where he began
working with the General Mills Corporation.
Les and Betty met at a party thrown by a mutual friend
many years later in 1972. "It was love at first sight," he
declares, and Betty smiles, "You see someone across the a
crowded room and somehow you know..."
Also a transplant to Minneapolis, Betty had moved from
Texas "the day after World War II ended," she says,
recalling the temperature was 86 degrees when she left her
home state and four degrees below zero upon reaching
Minnesota. The exceedingly cold winters were not without
their charm, however, as the Haugens recall drilling holes
through the thick ice around which "fish houses" were
erected, complete with wood burning stoves and battery
operated radios inside which friends played games of
cribbage.
"We were married in Minneapolis and we've been a happy
relationship ever since," Les beams, while Betty, a writer
for The McKenzie Banner in the 1980's, groans good
naturedly over his choice of words. His temporary breach
of eloquence is tempered by the sweetness of his sentiment
as he quotes glowingly from a needlework wall hanging
crafted by his wife, "To love and be loved is the greatest
joy on earth."
Betty was 48 and Les 58 when they tied the knot, merging
families that included Betty's son, Trey Labatt, her
daughter Laura, and Les' sons, Gordon and Gene. Their
family has since grown to include nine grandchildren and
seven great-grandchildren.
The farm-raised couple returned to their childhood roots
and were living on their own small 13-acre farm when Les
received a phone call from Lowell Marshall, past president
of Republic Builders. He was in a dilemma, unfamiliar with
either the city of McKenzie or its people, he told Les.
Les, somewhat confused as to how he could help, was taken
aback when Marshall explained his desire to have Les move
into the position to help choose the right employees for
the plant.
"I'm 65 years old," Les protested, "What would Republic
think of hiring a 65-year-old person?" Convinced by
Marshall that he was the right man for the job, the
Haugens moved to McKenzie in 1980, where Les served four
years with the company before retiring at the age of 70.
Members of the Methodist Church in McKenzie, Les taught
Sunday School in years past, especially enjoying the
experience of teaching the senior high school class. He
served as an adjunct professor at Bethel College for many
years, has been president of the Rotary Club in McKenzie
and was city judge for six years. "It's interesting that
some people still call me judge," Les shares with a smile
that's almost shy.
The Haugens recently contemplated moving back to their
Minneapolis roots near their children, grandchildren and
great grandchildren, but were dissuaded by current events
to remain in their peaceful rural community. "We're better
off here than there," Les says, "It's warmer, too!" Betty
chimes in.
"We've had an excellent life and we're very happy
together," Les says earnestly, "We're both in good health;
we're happy to have come to McKenzie. We have a lot of
friends here... It's been a full life." |
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