In the hearts of countless readers across the United States, Mankato holds a special place, yet many know it only as "Deep Valley." This charming fictional town was brought to life by Maud Hart Lovelace in her beloved Betsy-Tacy series, which follows the lives and adventures of a close-knit group of friends in the early 1900s. The novels delve into enduring themes such as friendship, dreams, and love, making them resonate through generations.
The first installments of the series were published during World War II, and their allure was so profound that devoted fans successfully urged Harper Collins to republish the books in both the 1990s and again in 2000, ensuring the new generations could rediscover these treasures.
At a recent, eagerly anticipated Betsy-Tacy Convention held in Mankato, actor Mara Wilson shared her personal memories of the series, stating, "These books meant everything to me during my childhood. Minnesota was, without a doubt, the most magical place on earth." Lovelace’s portrayal of Mankato is particularly intimate, as she herself was raised there and drew inspiration from the people and places of her youth.
In crafting the character of Betsy, Lovelace depicted herself as a friendly and thoughtful girl with a noticeable gap between her front teeth. Tacy, on the other hand, was modeled after her best friend, Frances Kenney, who was shy, red-haired, and part of a large Irish Catholic family.
This past weekend, approximately two hundred women from various parts of the United States gathered in Mankato for the convention. Michelle Giorlando from Detroit, one of the event organizers, reflected on how her colleagues in Minneapolis were baffled that she would choose to spend her weekend in a smaller city, eighty miles away from the vibrant happenings of the Twin Cities. She explained that the community known affectionately as the Betsy-Tacy Crowd had been her circle of friends in her teenage years. I could easily relate; they were my friends as well, supportive companions throughout my sometimes solitary childhood.
While mingling with attendees from all corners of the country, including Idaho, California, Massachusetts, Georgia, and Arizona, I noticed each time I mentioned my Minnesota roots, people’s eyes lit up in recognition, as if they saw a shared bond that extended the magic of Betsy-Tacy to me. While there were a few other Minnesotans present, we felt like an uncommon find.
Mothers traveled great distances with their daughters to be part of this extraordinary gathering. I met a delightful trio representing three generations, their Southern accents sweetly contrasted with their vintage costumes. An aunt from Wisconsin and her niece, Elle Rupert from Philadelphia, caught my eye with a stunning tattoo of Emily, the heroine from Lovelace's "Emily of Deep Valley," which spanned her entire left arm.
Elle expressed her pride in identifying with Emily, naming her a "feminist and anti-racist activist," which is quite remarkable considering Emily’s character was crafted in 1912, yet published in 1950. It always strikes me as surprising when I encounter individuals—especially fellow Minnesotans and avid readers—who have not encountered the magical world of Betsy-Tacy.
These novels catapulted Mankato into a spotlight that many locals may not grasp fully. I often ponder how the residents perceive us as we tour the cherished sites mentioned in the books, touring Betsy’s and Tacy’s childhood homes that have been lovingly restored by the Betsy-Tacy Society (https://betsy-tacysociety.org/). We marvel at the historical significance of various characters' homes still standing today, joyfully exclaiming over the lingering presence of Carney’s sleeping porch, which has endured for more than a century.
The stories themselves are devoid of explosive events or thrilling escapades—no mysteries to solve or heroic rescues. Yet, the emotional stakes remain high. Readers anxiously wonder how Betsy will descend the tree she is too frightened to jump from, who will emerge victorious in the high school essay contest, or how to subtly inform a boy that you’re not one to hold hands.
Interestingly, the Betsy-Tacy books were released around the same time as the Little House series but depicted a different, more modern era. While the Little House books reflect the struggles and enchantments of pioneer life, Betsy and Tacy’s world is set in an era where electricity and telephones are commonplace. Their tales traverse a lighter and more whimsical landscape, filled with laughter, music, and celebrations.
However, beneath this cheerful surface lie profound reflections on issues such as faith, mortality, and the experiences of immigrant neighbors. Concepts of honor, dignity, and personal growth are woven throughout their narratives. New York Times columnist Anna Quindlen even labels Betsy as a "feminist icon" for her quest to pursue a writing career in a time when societal expectations primarily designated women as homemakers.
I could continue to share my adoration for these books, which hold a cherished spot in my living room drawer. But ultimately, I believe they serve as a soothing remedy for our current age. They reach across 115 years of time, extending their voices into a present riddled with political divides and pervasive feelings of isolation, reminding us of the essentials in life.
Connection with others is vital. Laughter and playful teasing offer comfort and warmth. It’s these moments where we extend a hand of empathy or support, notice one another’s feelings, and actively work against tribalist mindsets. It involves a persistent acknowledgment of our flaws and striving toward improvement.
The Betsy-Tacy Crowd illustrates this beautifully, as their bond transcended not only the pages of Lovelace’s books but also flourished in real life, where friends visited one another across miles, exchanging letters and cherished memories well into adulthood.
It’s no wonder so many people feel compelled to visit Mankato. This community built around the novels remained steadfast, undeterred by political or religious differences. It’s a point of nostalgia that makes me mourn the passing of such an era.
