Amplification. In No. 26 we reported that four-year-old Wyatt Knutson’s near-record muskie was held “mostly” by the boy. His father asks us to amend this to “entirely, at the important moments.” We stand by our reporting, and print his amendment in the interest of household peace.

Correction. Our Fourth of July preview stated the land parade would step off at 9 a.m. sharp. It stepped off at 9:07. The Pilot-Independent regrets the error; the marshal regrets the horse.

Corrections remain rare, and cheerfully entertained.

Selected from the bound volumes in the front room of the old creamery, where the past is kept in order of weight.

25 years ago — July 2001. Gordy Lindstrom, of Lindstrom’s Service, declined for the third consecutive summer to charge for air. “The day I meter the sky,” he told this newspaper, “you may bury me.” The pumps are gone now. The air, we are able to report, stayed free to the end.

50 years ago — July 1976. The Bicentennial committee’s plan for an organized boat procession on Big Pelican collapsed when the sign-up sheet at the creamery drew forty-one boats and no agreement on a route. “We’ll do it informally and see how that goes,” the chairman ruled. It went, informally, for the next fifty years. The same summer’s land parade is remembered chiefly for the horses, and the horses are remembered still.

75 years ago — July 1951. The Co-op creamery on Second Avenue took delivery of a stainless holding tank billed as “the largest vessel of its kind between Duluth and Bemidji.” A crowd gathered to watch it swung through the great hall doors. The building has just taken delivery of two more (see News), through the same doors, before some of the same crowd, several of whom supervised.