Seth Sigler | News | May
First installation of Mandan Highschool
When characterizing cities there are typically two categories they may fall in, the cities of past and the cities of future. The former being distinguished as forgotten towns of neglected buildings and amenities, found in a system too small for any acts of renewal, some nearly finding themselves in a state of ruin. In contrast to the barren towns, the bustling metropolises in constant states of remodel, with the most prominent features of the city’s identity being rooted in the bleeding edge of architecture, culture, and technology. These two polarizing categories leave a wide margin for whatever may lie between. A lack of a coherent identity would leave cities in an unrefined and unbalanced position, with clashing aesthetics and conflicting narratives of what the city truly is.
This designation of an irregular circumstance of infrastructure is one that closely resembles the likes of our own city, and our neighbor across the river. Mandan-Bismarck, two cities, find themselves not as cities of the past nor cities of the future but rather cities of the present.
In our familiar fields, valleys, and river bottoms we find ourselves walled in by a vast expanse for hundreds of miles. It wouldn’t be fitting to bestow our city with the title of “small” in comparison to the desolate villages that find themselves in a similar but much more confined position in our state. With this recognition it would be equally as blasphemous to say that our city is large either, with a distinct lack of the bustle and awe drawn in by larger cities in surrounding states such as Minneapolis or even Fargo in comparison. This leaves Bismarck-Mandan in a suspended state, begging the question, “What kind of city are we?” Features and installations such as those of larger cities seem to awkwardly insert themselves in front of the buildings of antiquity that may reflect what our cities used to be. Little does it solve the need to repair and rejuvenate, and instead masks the buildings of days past in an attempt to obstruct the notion of a smaller, outdated town similar to the likes of Beulah, Bowman, or Carrington.
The lack of a concrete identity gives the impression of being a modern frontier, a rough silhouette of a budding city. The continuous push for recognition has been around since Bismarck Mandan’s beginnings. In the tenth year of Bismarck’s existence in 1882, construction of a railway bridge connecting Mandan and Bismarck was finished. This addition boosted traffic and business through the two cities showing a quick burst of what potential the two cities held.
Following this large addition a fire broke out in 1898 which prompted reconstruction, beginning in 1906. As the city slowly rebuilt itself, it implemented strong architectural landmarks. In 1914 construction finished on the prominent Belle Mehus Auditorium. The Belle is a standout architectural piece that stood out from the humble and quaint buildings of Bismarck’s earlier days. Another example of a standout building is Bismarck’s Patterson Building built in 1911. The Patterson was the tallest building in North Dakota at the time, exemplifying the era as a shift in attitude toward a push for recognition.
This distinct forward disposition in Bismarck’s architectural upheaval continued into the 1930s along with the changing styles of architecture, introducing the new art-deco style seen in larger cities during the 1930s. The art deco movement struck Bismarck with the newly built capitol building. The capitol was a large and striking entry in Bismarck’s facade.The tower served as a great contrast to expectations of the time. The cathedral of the holy spirit joined the capitol building with a similarly stark appearance reaching high and thin into the sky with sleek white surfaces ascending towards the sky.
A clear pattern is displayed as time goes on, In the modern day we see this at a very close and personal level. Only 2 years prior we would have found ourselves within the 70 year old brick walls of the former high school. It’s all but impossible to not notice the stark differences between the building we find ourselves in now and its 1950s predecessor. The earlier iteration sported a bold light blue facade framing a wide wall of windows, a prominent feature that would end up being covered in later developments.
What we see as our school today is a mix of dark and pale geometric grays that form a modern castle similar to higher institutions like college campuses. There’s a distinct lack of vibrant colors, an increasingly popular pattern in modern architecture that brazenly portrays a goal of efficiency, professionalism and uniformity.
As time passes trends pass in unison, exemplified bythe changing styles of our high school over the years. The architectural trends of the modern day happen to be an ever present unavoidable demand, with each new building we construct having no choice but to be dressed as what is accepted in the modern culture. In time’s never-stagnant nature there’s no way to predict what the next form of architecture will be, giving us no choice but to use the blueprint we are given now. The constant goal of infrastructure is to construct the next greatest installation, reaching for the future in the most optimal and most impressive manner. Any enterprise with the goal to reach the future is bound to realize that the closest attainable achievement is what is present. Eventually what’s present is bound to become obsolete as the goal to obtain the future still remains.
About the writer: Seth Sigler, Reporter
Seth Sigler is a new reporter to The 2026 Courier staff. A junior student at Mandan High School, Seth enjoys writing about how minute details of every-day life reflect the larger image of our lives. Seth hopes to display the larger impact of the seemingly mundane.