1887: The Cream City House Fire

 

Wolf River was growing. David Youngs and George Steele were two of the four men who platted what is now most of downtown Algoma, and named Youngs and Steele Plat. In the spring of 1857, when Steele was on one of his semi-annual trips from Chicago, he and Youngs offered Captain Charlie Fellows his choice of lots if he would build a hotel costing at least $1,000. The men were speculators with land for sale. They needed to attract those with capital, and that meant a good hotel was a necessity.

Captain Fellows did indeed build a hotel. The “skyscraper” that was called the Tremont House is Kewaunee County’s longest operating business and is called Stebbins Hotel today. Named for DeWayne Stebbins, the hotel had nothing to do with any input - financial or otherwise - from Big Steb though. When Frank Slaby bought the place in 1905 and significantly remodeled it, adding the portion that today fronts on Steele, Stebbins had died and Slaby honored the illustrious gentleman.

The Tremont was not Wolf River’s first hotel. That was Jane Loval’s Union House, just south of the southwest corner of 1^st and Steele today. Her hotel had the distinction of being one of the first frame buildings in town. Abraham Hall boarded travelers along the river on what is now 4^th, and Andreas Eveland took in the public just to the south, approximately the southwest corner of 4^th and Navarino today. Matt Simon was doing the same thing in his Metropolitan House on the north side of the river. A large portion of Simon’s place remains and is a private home today. William Bastar’s hotel was built just after the Civil War and remains as the Steelehead Saloon. Boedecker’s hotel on the southeast corner of 4^th and Steele was built in 1871, burning not long after and then rebuilt in 1875. The building also remains. Meverden’s Sherman House was the scene of early notable events, but it was destroyed by fire in 1866. St. Charles House on the southeast corner of 1^st and Steele was another pre-1900 hotel that also served as apartments during World War ll and after. It was torn down to enhance the marina area.

Cream City House was another built in 1866. As the others, its history is most interesting. Built on the southwest corner of 3^rd and Steele by Charles Hennemann in 1887, it too was destroyed by fire, one  originating in his basement oven.

Written  descriptions provide images of the Hennemanns that are somewhat comical. Mr. Hennemann was described as a small, low-voiced, well-groomed man who found fame in his mouth-watering pies that sold for one of Edward Decker’s shinplasters rather than the nickel they cost before the Civil War. Over the years the Record noted his marvelous accommodations when it emphasized that he knew how to keep a hotel. It was also said Hennemann increased his stature by marrying a large wife!

Mrs. Hennemann ran the hotel's dining room and was known for the table she set. Great-grandpa’s butcher shop was just across the street, so while there were a number of other butcher shops in town, it would seem as if Mrs. Hennemann might have easily done business with Great-grandpa who was only a few steps away. An article making the Record one week told about the day a butcher came running out of his shop with the imposing Mrs. Hennemann chasing him down the street while brandishing HIS cleaver. At issue was a pork chop that did not meet her  particular standards. The paper didn’t describe what followed, however I always hoped the butcher in question was not Great-grandpa!

The April 1887 fire at Hennemann’s was tragic, just as all others. While the hotel was burning, Frank McDonald, Ahnapee’s premier photographer, set up his equipment on Steele Street to chronicle the event. The photo did not survive, however that same week he photographed the harbor with its 14 fishing vessels, a photo that has been printed and reprinted in various places over the years.

Bridge tender-night watchman Bohman was the first to spot smoke coming from the roof and sounded the alarm at 4 AM. Hotel guests were able to get out and the fire company was there spraying water as fast as possible. Others carried out as much furniture as they could, and after it was all over, it was said that the guests were able to save their belongings and that all Henemann’s portable furniture was saved as well.

It appeared that the fire was in the northeast corner of the roof and after awhile it looked as if the fire was out. But suddenly fire was leaping out of other places in the roof and all over the sides. Later it was learned that the fire began in the basement and traveled through the walls. Firemen used hooks and axes to tear down the walls in an effort to extinguish the fire before it spread to neighboring buildings, or perhaps the entire city. It could have happened. Fortunately there was no wind, however fires had to be put out on Thiard’s roof twice. The hotel’s barn was close but the fire department kept it so wet that there was no damage.

When the fire was over, the paper lauded the fire company and the citizens who worked together so efficiently. Ladies were also on hand supplying coffee and what was needed while the building burned to the ground. Various companies insured the building, its contents and the barn for a total of $4,225, but the hotel was not rebuilt. The Melchiors bought the property and built the structure that remains, now as Steele Street Florists.

While the paper applauded the cooperation and efficiency of those fighting the fire, it also pointed out the need for equipment and of a water supply for the fire engine. Water ran out during the fire fighting. Implications were frightening. There are always those who chase ambulances and fire trucks and 1887 Ahnapee was no exception. One of the town’s drunks made the paper too. In his state of intoxication that Tuesday morning, he tried convincing the firemen that unless they were paid, they shouldn’t fight the fire. When nobody heeded his advice, he began physically dragging them away from the fire engine. Finally two of the firemen managed to get the fellow away from the fire and into the custody of the city marshall.

The loss of Hennemann’s Cream City House affected the city. It wasn’t only the proprietors of Ahnapee’s hotels who felt they were doing a good job, even the Enterprise opined that “without a doubt” Ahnapee had as good of hotel accommodations as could be found in any city of the state.

Charles Hennemann seemed to have faded from the community when he retired from the hotel business. Whether he continued baking those sumptuous pies is unknown. He died in Milwaukee a little over 10 years later. What happened to Mrs. Hennemann is unclear, but no doubt she continued to set a fine table where ever she was. And, there is no doubt that where ever she was, the butchers and grocers were well aware of her standards.

Notes: Ahnapee's downtown hotels are noted in the birdseye map at the top. The right side of the Stebbins' photo was still apparent when this photo was taken during celebrations  the end of World War l. The frame section was part of refurbishing sometime prior to 1905 when Frank Slaby remodeled and added the front. Further down is a section of Frank McDonald's photo of the 1886 4th of July Industrial Parade.

Sources include Ahnapee and Algoma newspapers; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River, c. 2001; Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vols. 1 & 2, c. 2006 & 2012.

Chicken: Not Just for Sunday Anymore

Somebody is paying attention to the TV commercial about the pig lobbying folks to eat the "other white meat." Chicken is all over the place. No wonder today’s food world is hard for one who does not eat anything starting out with wings and feathers on it.  It’s hard to go out to dinner as a mostly vegetarian when most restaurants feature more chicken entrees than anything else. But, being vegetarian is a little different than the younger relative who scoffs at chicken saying it is so low class that he won’t eat it. Little could one less than a certain age understand what it took to serve chicken before 1950. Those who had the luxury of buying from a butcher shop had it a little easier than the average rural woman though. When Sunday company was served chicken, guests left the table smacking their lips, knowing they were royally treated. Before the days of TV and being ready for some football, Sunday meant two things – church and Sunday dinner.

For women who didn’t have access to a butcher shop, or didn’t want to spend that kind of money, the chicken had to be killed. That meant on Saturday the woman of the house found a suitable hen and chopped off its head. Using a stick with a looped wire, she caught the bird by the neck. Grabbing the it by the legs and carrying it to the spillway where the deed was done took a few minutes. Ever hear about "running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” That’s just what happened as the headless chicken was jumping and blood was flying. It took a few seconds before the chicken dropped.  Blood and unnecessary innards went down the spillway to be taken care of by rodents, ants and flies, all of which had their own feast.

Then the chickens were scalded so the feathers could be pulled off. But what an awful smell!  After all those outer feathers were off, the woman held the chicken by the legs and stood near an open flame, such as  an open furnace door during the winter. Remaining pin feathers were singed so that they could be pulled out.  If there was no open flame, dousing the chicken with a bit of alcohol and touching a match to It also worked on the pin feathers. If scalding smelled awful, singeing those feathers was worse than awful. When the chicken feathers were picked clean, a sharp knife did the rest of the job. The chicken was split so the cavity could be further cleaned.  Gizzards, usually the liver, and the remaining neck were saved to be boiled for soup stock and put into the deep soup well found in the back left burner of most modern electric ranges of the time. It took several hours to butcher and clean the chicken but not nearly so long to bake or fry it. Gobbling up that bird took only a matter of minutes.

Chickens were raised from hatching fertilized eggs that were mail ordered. By November 30, 1904, when Rural Free Delivery was in effect all over Kewaunee County, getting the eggs was easy. Mail carriers delivered cartons of fertilized eggs or anything else that was ordered. Others didn’t wait for mail but got got their chicks from Rubens’ hatchery in Rosiere or from Weidner’s at Hillside. Before those companies, in the post World War l era, Kewaunee’s Evergreen Poultry Farm was advertising 11 kinds of chicks while E.J. LaPlant’s Green Bay hatchery was another popular company selling chicks at prices that are surprising in 2015.

Chicks were expensive for the time. LaPlants sold the finest Rhode Island Reds for 16 cents each. There were Barred Plymouth Rocks, Anconas, and Brown and White Leghorns. Hatching eggs went for about $5.00 per hundred. Those who intended to hatch the eggs at home needed brooders that in the 1920s sold for anywhere from 10 dollars to as much as 22. Chicken mash feeders were other necessary pieces of equipment and the chicken mash itself was expensive. As early as 1909 butcher Peter Kashik made the Record when he installed a grinder for use in pulverizing bones for use as chicken feed. He didn’t make much money but those bones were used rather than discarded.

Sometimes one did not need that pricey equipment. All it took was a willing mother and a box behind the dining room stove. Junior’s friend’s step-brother had a hatchery on Madison Avenue in Sturgeon Bay near the Michigan St. Bridge, about 4 doors north of the Greystone Castle.  The 10 year old friends often hung around the hatchery, running errands or getting cigarettes for the adults. They watched what was going on as  batches of eggs were put into hatchery trays in big drawers. When the drawers were opened, most of the chicks had hatched and those hatchlings were put in a warm incuabator area. Eggs that didn’t hatch were dumped in a metal drum out back. As the boys played, they saw the dumped chicks poking through the shells and hatching in the garbage. Junior began taking eggs home and ended up with chickens, most of which were hens. He and his mother put the eggs in boxes and cans behind the stove in the dining room, and that’s where the chicks hatched. Junior raised chickens that his family ate while having a supply of fresh eggs.

Hatcheries were aware of the numbers of discarded eggs that would surely hatch, however it was expedient to have entire shipments on the same schedule. The thing about chickens was that hens were egg layers that put food on the table in a variety of ways. Roosters generally had stringy meat and weren’t as tasty. Capons are castrated roosters and another story. A farmer needed hens, not roosters, and it is nearly impossible to differentiate between male and female chicks until they are a month or so old, a time when they grow distinctive feathers and develop sex-related characteristics such as a rooster’s comb. Before that, it is hard to tell what they are, but nevertheless, they need to be housed and fed. That can get expensive.

Things changed with an earth-shaking announcement made at the World Poultry Congress in Ottawa in 1927; Japanese scientists realized that just inside a chick’s rear end was tissue that, when properly read, divulged the sex of a chicken. It was this discovery that lowered the price of eggs world-wide and propelled professional chicken sexers to among the most valuable agricultural workers. The finest in the field came from a 2-year program at Japan’s  Zen-Nippon Chick Sexing School where standards were so high that only 5-10% of the students received accreditation.  In demand all over the world, graduates of the time could earn an unheard of $500 a day.

Wikipedia says about 50 billion chickens are raised for food – meat and eggs - in the U.S. today, more than any other non-aquatic animal. Some are raised on questionable factory farms where groups say they are abused and subject to cruelty. Other chickens are free-range and many are certified as organic.  Things have changed in the last 60 years. Those past 80 say chicken no longer tastes like the chicken they remember. However, they can stop at Denny’s, the Pig or Stodola’s and buy a clean, ready to fry, bake or grill chicken. And if time is of the essence, picking up a ready cooked, hot, ready-to-eat chicken doesn’t cost much more. Nobody has to run around like a chicken with its head cut off to serve chicken. All the work has been done and it is sure to be called “tasty.” Except by the vegetarians and those who feel it is too low classed to eat.

Note: This blogger does not enjoy being around barnyard fowl of any kind, but does enjoy seeing and learning about the most unusual chickens in a variety of places. Headless chickens running about remains implanted in memories. Joshua Foer's fascinating Moonwalking with Einstein contained the information about the chicken sexing, which put much into perspective and led to the post.

Sources: Joshua Foer, Moonwalking with Einstein, Thorndike Press, 2011; Evergreen Poultry ad from Algoma Record Herald; Monarch range ad from Door County Advocate; information on the chicken industry today and pictures of the Rhode Island Red and the Leghorn are from Wikipedia.

 

Great-Grandpa's Ahnapee Pop Shop: The First in Two Counties

Great-grandpa owned Ahnapee’s first pop shop. Seventy years later, in the late 1940s, three little girls salivated each time they saw the (then) garage "over home." That garage was famously known among the grandkids as the pop shop. In the ‘40s pop such as Orange Crush, cream soda and root beer came in 7 oz. bottles from Baumeister Bottling in Kewaunee. The little girls knew Great-grandpa made rootbeer and cherry, and they knew about rum and Coca Cola, made popular by the Andrew Sisters' recording of the same name. Their mother was not happy hearing her pre-schoolers running around singing,  "Drinking rum and Cocaaaaa Cola......". They didn’t know anything about other sodas such as Coke - because it was always called Coca Cola - and Pepsi. That came later. The one thing they knew about pop was that they hardly ever had any.

The cherished Orange Crush came in a dark brown bottle and when it was Christmas, or there was a fish boil or other big family event, there was always a bottle of pop that the girls shared. Each carefully examined the juice glasses among which the precious 7 oz. were divided. If one glass held a whisker more, there was bound to be trouble. All because Great-grandpa sold the pop shop. Had he kept it, the girls would have surely gotten more than a little over two tablespoons!

Not long after the establishment of the Ahnapee Brewery, Great Grandpa Magnus and his father-in-law Henry formed a partnership and opened Ahnapee Bottling Works. At the time of its opening, it was the first soft drink factory in Door or Kewaunee counties. Soda water had been invented in England early in the late 1800s and had made its way to the United States. It had made the appearance in Ahnapee too, however it was found in the soda fountains at drug stores or confectioneries. Manufacturing the pop and bottling it allowed consumers to buy it and keep it for home consumption. 

Operations began in April 1876 in factory on the farm that belonged to Magnus, who was living in the village at the time. On April 13, Magnus and Henry began the manufacture of pop and small beer in an old log shed southwest of the Village of Ahnapee on the farm now owned by the family's 5th generation. Following the arrival of the machinery on the Goodrich steamer The DePere on Tuesday, April 11, the business got up and running. The men manufactured, bottled and delivered the pop, though delivery was a job Magnus did not like. The normally affable Magnus  had to enter saloons, something that became increasingly embarrassing. A close relative was generally there and generally drunk. Magnus had no problems making regular deliveries to Sturgeon Bay, and a March 1887 Advocate article mentioned that he was "making visits to our local dealers for the purpose of disposing articles in his line of business."  It might have been easier to say he was selling pop! The Sturgeon Bay market was served long after that place had its own soft drink dealers, speaking highly of Ahnapee's pop as a quality product. As late as December 1890 pop was still being delivered when the Advocate reported that the "Ahnapee Pop Factory came over on runners." The snow must have provided a good base.

Henry had been a farmer whose Civil War injuries made farming all but impossible. Having been a butcher in his native Saxony, he built a shop on the southeast corner of 3rd and Steele and returned to the trade. That was too much for him as well. The pop factory provided an opportunity for making some money and keeping busy, however the work again proved to be too much for the old soldier. In May 1879 he sold his 1/2 interest for $400 to Magnus' step-brother Erdman Zander who felt pop was the healthiest drink there was! Magnus sold the pop factory to Joseph Jirovetz in 1896 and for awhile Jirovetz manufactured on Magnus' farm.  

The pop business had its ups and downs, passing through the hands of a number of owners in its 40 years. After Jirovetz bought the factory from Magnus in September 1896, he manufactured his pop on Magnus' farm, eventually moving the machinery to a building he erected in the 2nd Ward, Ahnapee's west side.  

On June 24, 1898, it was announced that Jirovetz leased Herbert Sibilsky's Mill Street saloon, also called the Sheridan House, (left) for a period of 3 years. In the meantime, in a peculiar twist of events, Frank Austen and Henry Culligan purchased the factory from Jirovetz, also in 1898. It would appear that the purchase was buying into the business rather than buying it from Jirovetz lock, stock and barrel. Austen and Culligan engaged Fred Wulf to move an old building from the Auermiller place in the Town of Ahnapee to Mill Street. Something apparently fell through with the 3-year lease because 6 months later Herbert Sibilsky moved the pop factory to the back of Jirovetz' saloon. It would seem Jirovetz  leased another saloon that was closer to downtown, as Sibilsky put runners on Jirovetz' small building to easily move it over the frozen ground and snow. It remains unclear whether Sibilsky was an employee, whether he had already bought in, or whether he was engaged to move the structure. Business was good though, and Austen and Culligan were making 60 gallons of pop per day. In March 1898 the men dissolved their partnership and Culligan went into business with Herbert Sibilsky. Culligan and Sibilsky began operating the factory in the rear of Jirovetz saloon for about a year when  Culligan sold his interest to Sibilsky.

 

Clarence Mickleson’s involvement in the business is curious. He had been active in the pop manufacturing business for some time, possibly because he was an in-demand mechanic. Being related to Magnus through marriage, he was willing to offer assistance. Mickleson knew a great deal about the pop business and its machinery and by May 1902 Mickleson had a factory pop factory on the lake on 4th near the Kelsey's first brilliantine factory, roughly about 1255 4^th today.  When Mickleson put in new machinery and new bottles in 1907, he said the pop was better than ever.

As a brakeman for the Ahnapee and Western, Mickleson was well-known along the line so when others were mentioning his prosperous soft drink company in 1903, he was wished well. And when there was misfortune, it was also well-known. Mickleson's young son nearly lost his life in the spring of 1903, and probably because of pop. The youngster had picked up a bottle containing a mixture of turpentine and other strong liquids and drank part of it. Fortunately a doctor was nearby and the child was saved. Ironically, the same thing happened to one of Magnus' great-grandchildren a little over 40 years later.

As the exceptional mechanic he was, Mickleson was in demand well before he went into business. Michelson, the expert, traveled to Wausauke with Frank Srnka who was opening a pop factory there.  In March 1902 Joe Langer, a member of the Langer-Mach brewing company, wanted to open a pop factory in Kewaunee, and came to Algoma to secure Michkeson’s advice on machinery. A month later, Mickleson installed Langer’s machinery.

Herbert Sibilsky remained involved in the pop business until January 1909 when Louis Garot  bought it. Garot leased Telesphore Charles' building on the southwest corner of 2nd and Steele where he put in a new basement floor before adding new machinery. John Peot appeared to be in business with Sibilsky and in 1908 sold his interest to the Garots. Louis Garot moved from Green Bay into Sibilsky's home on Mill. His brother Frank was in charge of Luxemburg Bottling and Frank came to Algoma several times a week to assist Louis. Garot's business increased to the point where Peter Jager came in as a partner. The Garots felt manufacturing in Algoma was much cheaper than hauling product from Luxemburg.

When in 1914 Rufus Fowles became the pop factory's sole owner, he changed the name to Algoma Bottling Works and increased patronage. In a September 1916 Record interview, Fowles said his most popular beverages were Lemon Sour, Raspberry Wine, Cherry Cider, Iron Brew, El Porto Grape and Grapal and Cream Beer, flavors that have mostly faded away. Lemon Sour was manufactured by other firms trademarking the sodas as Squirt, Sun-Drop, 7-Up and so on, becoming quite popular as a mixer in adult beverages. During its 50-year history, the factory produced over 30 flavors including many such as Grape Cream Beer and Atlas Brew that are unfamiliar in today's markets.

Luxemburg Bottling Works was organized after 1900 and Kewaunee Bottling Co. - the largest and best remembered company - was organized in 1919 by Henry and Julia Baumeister. A year later, their first building was sold and the business was moved to the northwest corner of Harrison and Dodge Streets, the place remembered by most of today’s residents.

Burmeisters had little money but their enthusiasm and determination made the business a success. Henry Baumeister did most of the remodeling and repairs to the 1920 building himself with the after school help of Julia’s brothers, Ed and Loddie Schultz who lived with the couple until they themselves married. Gilbert Baumeister ran the company after Henry, and Gene Baumeister followed his father Gilbert. From its beginning, Kewaunee Bottling Co. grew in size and reputation. Distribution area included all of northeast Wisconsin and upper Michigan.

Pop manufacturing went beyond the factories. During the Depression, many made their own root beer, putting a raisin in the bottle before corking. The raisin "worked" and gave the pop its fizz. If one decided to speed up the process adding another raisin, there was a little too much fizz. Al Capone and Baby Face Nelson were in the news. There were always reports of them being in Wisconsin. Then there was John Dillinger at Little Bohemia in 1934. On a moonless winter night just after Little Bohemia, the kids were doing homework at the dining room table when the raisins started working a little too much, blowing off the pop bottle caps into the basement walls and ceiling. The screaming kids knew they were under fire and that Chicago gangsters were attacking the farm!

If Great-grandpa had only hung on to that root beer........

Note: The photos of Baumeister's sodas comes from the Baumeister website. Find out more about Baumeister's history at www.baumeistersoda.com.

Sources: Algoma and Sturgeon Bay newspapers; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, c. 2006 & 2012; In From the Fields, c. 1995, the blogger's family history and postcard collection.
 

Boloslav and the Town of Lincoln

Rushford, Pierce, Royal Creek and Boloslav/Boloslaw are four of the Kewaunee County communities that have truly faded into oblivion. Not even a 45 mph sign remains to prompt one to question its presence. As the name of a township, Pierce is at least familiar. Rushford was larger than today’s Frog Station, and Frog Station is known world-wide. Rushford, Royal Creek and Pierce were 1850s  postal communities so while they receive next to no mention in Kewaunee County histories, the Department of Post Office knows they were there in a day before the U.S. Cartography Office required official maps of the locations. It is the site documents that pinpoint them.



Boloslav is curious. It seems to have been in existence for just a short time, never had a post office and it really wasn’t a crossroads’ community. George Weidner put up ice, but there was no saloon, hall, church, cheese factory, blacksmith, school or store identified as Boloslav. Depending on the year, the closest store and cheese factory were in Gregorville at either Wenzel Zlab’s or Fett's, and that’s where the post office was. Boloslav included the vicinity called Gregorville today, however it is was really the neighborhood to the north,  made up primarily of Bohemians with such names as Wochos, Tlachac, Blatsky, Gregor and Holub.

Wikepedia says Boloslaw is a name of Slavic origin meaning “great glory.” Both Poland and Bohemia had multiple kings named Boloslaw, or a close derivative. Surprisingly there was even a 12th century  Swedish king with the name.  Thirty-one miles northeast of Prague in the central part of the Czech Republic is the city of Mlada Boleslav. According to Wikepedia, the city was an important Jewish center during the 17^th and 18^th centuries. By the 19^th century the city was prospering, and since the 1990s it has been one of the Czech Republic’s richest.

There is little doubt that some immigrants to Kewaunee County came from the Boloslav region and, as so many others, named their community for their place of origin. What is unusual is that references to the place in Kewaunee County appear in newspapers about the time of World War l. Questioning the locality because of a reference to the place is what brought on the search. During the years before and after World War l, residents of the area were included in Fett’s Corners or Gregorville, names for the same place. Why was part of the area so briefly known as Boleslav? Historian George Wing mentioned it in one of his writings, but as far as can be determined, he mentioned the place just once.

During the Great War years, Bohemian Rudolph Dobry was an auto salesman covering the Algoma territory for the A. Schultz Garage. That was at a time when William Meisler had the Luxemburg area, John Drossart worked the Casco territory and Frank Riha brought in customers around Tisch Mills. Dobry’s Algoma territory included calling on the Boloslav farmers, and Dobry took orders in the prosperous community. He sold autos to some who were basking in road conditions in February 1918 when they were able to take their new autos out for a spin. Even though a number of its men were soldiers in Europe fighting in a war remembered as World War l, the year seemed to be a good one as nobody complained when assessor Michael Meunier made his rounds in May. By December the farmers were feeling good as they were “getting a neat little sum of money per bushel” from the clover threshing months earlier.

 

Algoma veterinarian Dr. V.J. Laurent usually serviced the Boloslav area farms a few times each week. John  Zlatnik hired such men as Eli DeBauche, Frank Holub and Desire Vandermause to haul wood to Algoma. Vandermause worked with Theodore Holsbach and Art Herison hauling John Laurent’s logs to Rio Creek. Both communities offered farmers plenty of sales' opportunities. Though not nearly the size of Algoma Veneer & Seating Co. or Plumbers Woodwork, the papers often mentioned the large number of farmers taking their wood-lot products to Rio Creek where Builder's Woodwork was a thriving industry that still operated its cheese box division.

Euren’s Dr. Kerscher  visited in the area though his office was only two miles west. Adolph Holub and his family lived in Swamp Creek - an area also known as Silver Creek - frequently going the few miles to his parents’ home in Boloslav. The Casco and Brussels’ telephone companies put up lines in the area, offering connections with the outside world, though service was not always a given as weather affected the lines. Winter weather also affected mail, which by November 30, 1904 meant Rural Free Delivery (below right) was in effect throughout Kewaunee County. Autos were on the road during the summer, although horses ensured far better travel in spring when roads were often too wet and muddy, and in the winter. Summer meant farmers were crushing stone to be laid on the roads in front of their properties. It was a time when farmers still saw to the roads adjacent to their farms.



Papers discussed Wisconsin cheese inspectors at the area plants* a few months before the Boloslav schools** were closed in the fall of 1918 because of Spanish flu. Mrs. Leonard Blatsky was one of the sick adults at the time. School had been closed in April as well, but that was because the teacher was called to the military. Teachers were called for duty straight from the classrooms, although local resident Henry Vandermause was teaching in Duvall where he finished the term.  A few months later, in June, a large number of children were back in school, this time for weighing and measuring by orders from the county’s Women's Defense Council. Township ladies, who had also been appointed as lieutenants for the Council of Defense, were kept busy canvassing women for the Third Liberty Loan.

What came to be called World War l affected the small Bohemian neighborhood as it did every other. Nobody wanted to see men sent to war and most of those who were had a send-off party with all the neighbors in attendance. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Gregor feted son Louis in July 1918. A month later Joe Alberts, son of Rio Creek blacksmith Joseph Alberts,  was honored before he left for his stint in the Army.

From http://www.history.navy.mil/

Gregor was a seaman aboard the U.S.S. Carola when he wrote to his parents from Brest, France on the day after Thanksgiving 1918. Gregor told about Thanksgiving, a day like any other because he had the duty. Gregor got to feast that day and told his family that in addition to the turkey, pumpkin pie, cigars and cigarettes, he indulged on so much that he could not name. He told his folks about the Carola, the admiral’s flag ship, which was really a rich man’s yacht that was turned over to the government for the war effort. He said Brest was the largest naval base in France, having 48 destroyers, and that headquarters was once Napoleon’s chateau. It was quite a sight for a young man from rural Kewaunee County! The letter must have been Gregor’s first since he left because he described the trip across the Atlantic and the German sub their destroyer forced down with heavy firing, though it was a nearby tanker that actually sunk it. Far worse was the Spanish flu that hit the convoy. Gregor was part of the detail responsible for removing bodies aboard ship. Thirty-four had died and 250 were sick. He felt men died just about as soon as they got sick. Gregor mused that he stayed healthy being around so many who were so sick.

Gregor and Frank Vandermause came home in July 1919. Vandermause had  married Emma Blatsky, who lived in his neighborhood, in January 1918, before he entered service. Gregor married his sweetheart Hattie Groth of Alaska  after he came home, in October 1919, about the same time that Boloslav faded from the Town of Lincoln.

Where did Boloslav come from so suddenly and why did it disappear so fast? It is possible the Bohemian residents of the Town of Lincoln area united in a show of solidarity. Today it would be so tritely called “making a statement” or “sending a message.”

To comprehend it all would mean a study of European history. Briefly, Bohemia was a province in the Habsburg’s Austrian Empire. It was bounded by Austria on the south, German provinces Bavaria on the west, Saxony and Lusatia on the north, and by Moravia - now the eastern part of the Czech Republic - on the east. The Habsburgs mandated German as the official language in schools and in 1848 the Czech people revolted with so many others in Europe. When the war began, the European Bohemians saw the Germans and Hungarians as enemies and did not want to serve in those armies fighting their fellow Slavs.

The end of the war brought Czechoslovakia and independence. Inclusion of the German populated Sudetenland was a thorny issue that became even greater in 1938. But, that’s another story.

Boloslaw was a Town of Lincoln Bohemian community that came and went nearly 100 years ago. It was made up of fine, upstanding people who left little to tell its story.

*Cheese factories were probably those at Euren, Gregorville, Swamp Creek and Kodan.**Boloslav schools seemed to include Gregor, Liberty and Lafayette, and possibly Silver Creek. A. Schultz' garage stood on the southwest corner of 3rd and Steele, built as Sam Perry's store and now Richmond Center.

Sources: Newspapers, maps, Wikipedia. Photos are from the 1912 Plat Book, blogger's family collection & the 1914 postcard is from the blogger's postcard collection. The rural mail carrier is the blogger's grandfather's and most likely came from Algoma Record Herald.

Melchior Bros. & the Corner of 3rd and Steele Streets

The first week of July 1945 saw the building at the southeast corner of 3rd and Steele vacant for the first time in its history. Melchior Bros. had closed after 50 years.

Butcher Henry Baumann built his frame store on the site in 1868 and leased out part of the building. Baumann bought the W 1/2 of Lots 15 and 16 from Frank Feuerstein who, a few years later in 1872, joined Baumann in the meat business. In September 1878 health forced Baumann to close his butcher shop. For reasons remaining unclear, he  put up a new 18' x 28' building, the last frame building with a false front constructed on Steele in Block 10.  Part of the new building was rented to tailor Anton Danek and the other part to butchers Wenzel Pavlik, H. Zimmermann, John Graf, Frank Groessl and others. A telephone was installed in 1878 and in 1886 the entire switchboard operation moved in. Then  Silas Doyen opened his drug store on the 2nd floor. After Henry Baumann died in July 1888, his  heirs continued the rentals, but in 1893 sold the building to Michael Melchior for $1,500.

Baumann's building was a little over 15 years old when it was razed in 1894 to allow Mr. Bacon to erect the double front, brick sided building that remains today. Built to house Melchior's boot and shoe store - with bicycle step ladders added to improve access - a section was added for men and boys' furnishings. G.I. McDonald and L. J. Meverden rented the upstairs rooms for their short-lived newspaper, The Press. Fred Wulf & Co. built an addition to the rear in 1926. Michael Cohn did the brickwork and Julius Busch did the carpentry. The addition was used for Dr. George Melchior's office and for the store's shoe repair. Later the doctor moved upstairs next to the room in which his sister offered piano lessons. Interestingly, while Michael's building was going up, his brother Mathias was getting ready to construct his own building across 3rd Street on the old Hennemann hotel site. The hotel had burned. When Michael Melchior Sr. retired, the business name changed from M. Melchior and Sons to Melchior Bros.

Michael Melchior, Sr. was born in Schwemlingen, Prussia where the family shoe making trade had been passed from father to son for generations. Melchior had been in the Ahnapee shoe and boot business with his brother-in-law Mathias Rinehart for some years before the early 1890s when that business partnership ended. Melchior's new boot business included his 15 year old son Hans (John) and his nephew Peter Melchior. Michael, Jr. had learned tailoring at Kohlbeck's and was working in Milwaukee when the new business opened. He came home to join the family venture.

Melchior's boots and shoes were handmade with leather that came from Milwaukee tanneries. Forty years earlier Luckenbach's and Van Meverden's Wolf River tannery could have supplied Melchior's needs, but that business had come to an end. The heavy, tough Milwaukee leather was made into footwear as fast as possible, which, for a plain boot, took about a day. The boots had tabs, enabling them to be pulled on easier. The company also made slippers for women and shoes for children. Imported French calfskin was the upscale leather of choice for so-called city slickers. One would think big city ways had not crept into Ahnapee, but they were there and it was the Yankees at the top of the pecking order.

Factory made shoes were already on the market on the market in Kewaunee County. Anton Ballering appears to have been in Kewaunee making shoes in the early 1870s. The 3-story Ballering shoe factory was built on the southeast corner of Kewaunee's Harrison and Milwaukee Streets in 1881. Ten years later, the company was facing bankruptcy.

Shoemaker Andrew Pavlik was making shoes in Stangelville by 1878 and planned to open a shoe manufacturing company thus providing an income for himself and his sons. Pavlik's manufacturing, on the property just south of St. Lawrence Church, was not successful and his sons scattered to other parts of Wisconsin. Andrew's grandson Frank sold the Lena Pavlik shoe store about 1980, thus ending 100 years of shoemaking in that line.

The well-known Anton Sisel of Slovan learned the trade from Ballering's son-in-law John Bangert. Sisel's shop is now a part of Old World Wisconsin. As things changed, Michael Melchior carried shoes made by F. Meyer and Co. in Milwaukee and traveled the countryside selling what he could. There were other members of the Melchior who did not associate with their father in his business. A son Joseph did go into shoemaking, but he did it in Gillett.

The southeast corner of 3rd and Steele held mostly meat markets and shoe stores, including Dick DeGuelle's, who took over from the Melchiors, and Ernest and Richard Bosman who purchased from DeGuelle. Richard Bosman and then Darrell Jeremissen operated radio shops from 1949 to the late 1950s. Bill Hackett opened his sewing machine company on the Baumann spot in 1961. His business remains family operated. The east section of the building has been the site of Dorothy Blahnik's Sears Catalogue Store, a pet store and beauty shops. Hackett's tenure has been the longest on the site. And among the shoemakers of Kewaunee County? Four generations of Rineharts served Kewaunee County for over 100 years.


Note: An asterisk on the postcard indicates the southeast corner of 3rd and Steele.

Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2012; Commercial History of Algoma, WI, Vols. 1 & 2, c. 2006 & 2012; Ahnapee Record. Postcard and photos are from the blogger's collection and T. Rollin.

Barbershops: Two Bits for a Shave, Haircut & a Bath

Shower Baths 25¢. It’s a sign few today have ever seen. Sixty or more years ago some barbershops offered bathing as well as the usual shave and a haircut. Hard though it may be to believe men ever took baths at a barbershop, it actually happened across the country and it happened in Ahnapee/Algoma. This man's domain was also a place for news, newspapers, conversation and, sometimes, even singing. Well over 100 years ago Barbershop quartet singing had its origins in barbershops which were almost community centers. Men harmonized while waiting for service and the rest is history. How much singing went on in the barbershops of Ahnapee/Algoma is unknown, but Algoma had at least two singing barbers, Russ Zimmerman and Mickey Dettman.

Now Algoma’s Community Improvement office at 308 Steele, Timble’s barbershop was a fashionable spot for the nattily groomed man. It was also a popular spot for bathing. Shower Baths was neatly painted along the lower edge of the shop’s large front windows into the 1960s, but by then the sign was probably there because it was never removed. Maybe Stanley Timble left it there so kids would ask their parents why a barbershop advertised bathing, thus learning a little about how some of their grandpas lived.

Men  with their own homes were able to take care of their personal needs, but it was not quite so easy for the unmarried men living in hotels or rooming houses. Boarders, drummers and other traveling men took care of their foremost grooming necessities at a barbershop, a place which also supplied information about the town and its people, all while getting a shave and a haircut that cost 2 bits, including a bath.

In a 2004 interview with Millie Rabas, she said her Kirchman Hotel lacked bathtubs and flush toilets until 1937. Before that, the rooms had little commodes so guests could wash or take what was called a sponge bath. Chamber pots under the beds for nighttime use were convenient for guests who were able to avoid using the backyard outhouses – separate for men and women - in the dark. In the morning the maids emptied the washbowls and chamber pots into a pail and then dumped the contents into the outhouse. Before Ms. Rabas installed a bathtub, male hotel boarders and overnight guests had to bathe at Timble’s, or Pflughoeft’s barbershop at an earlier time. How the barbershops heated so much water for bathing generations ago remains a question.

Some of the Kirchman Hotel boarders lived there for years, just as boarders who rented a spare room in a private home. For the nearly 40 years that Nick Paradise lived in the hotel, he had the first room on the right. Poly (Leopold) Fax was there more than 30 years and died there. Both men worked tailoring and pressing at Kohlbeck’s, which was diagonally across Steele from Timble’s or a few steps from Pflughoeft’s. They could spruce up on their walk to work. Living at the hotel, the men were like family members who gave Millie their coupons during the rationing of World War ll. Fred Austin, who worked for Kashik’s meat market, lived in the hotel, as did elderly Gus Willems who came after living with a private family for about 15 years.

In his early years, Willems drove the Dycksville stage, a responsibility that included the mail, the horses and the passengers. As the eldest of the siblings, it was his duty to help provide for his family. In a day when Indians lived in Kewaunee County, they often appeared along Willwm’s route but, unlike what the next generation learned from movies at the Majestic, they never caused problems. They did want beer and liquor. If Gus ever supplied it, nobody knew it. The Record never uncovered incidents to report. Willems’ reminiscences provided conversation in the barbershops as much as the hotel lobby.

For a brief time in 1885 the city lacked a barber, prompting the Enterprise to carry a story about the popular “tonsorial artist” Gus Schuller who traveled to Ahnapee to cut the stubbles from a number of men.

W.H. Kelley was not a full service barber, and when he relocated to the second floor of the Baumann building, he reduced his prices to make up for the inconvenience of climbing steps. Billy Dingman was advertising hair dying as early as 1873. Dingman’s shop was in the Cream City House, now the site of Steele Street Floral. George Timble said those who weren’t satisfied with their shave at his Gem Shop would have their whiskers refunded. Frank Ollinger advertised himself as a barber and hair dresser in 1876.

 

* Timble's Barbershop

Maybe Stanley Timble’s shower bath sign was a hold over from his dad’s tenure at the shop. George and Stanley conducted their barbershop in the facility once known as the Klatt building. During the early days of silent movies, the Klatt building was the site of Algoma’s Gem Theatre and it was George Timble who owned the Gem Theater and the Gem Barbershop.

The theatre didn’t last long, but long-lasting was Timble's offering of bathing facilities in his barbershop. One hundred years later, there are salons that offer movies - on a flat screen with a remote - in addition to nail care, massages, facials, waxings and more. George Timble was on to something that never crossed his mind!


Note: It was in 1923 that George Timble replaced the building above and constructed the brick building that remains today, the last two-story structure to be built in the Steele St. business district. The 20' x 60' structure housed the barbershop, apartments upstairs, radio, TV and appliance sales and service, a clinic and now Community Improvement of Algoma.

Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River? c. 2001; Commercial History of Algoma, WI, Vols. 1 & 2, c. 2006 & 2012; interview with Ms. Millie Rabas, 2004. The hotel photo was taken by the blogger in 2007, the 1907 postcard is from the blogger's collection and the ads are from the Commercial History and used with permission.