The Town of Lincoln: A Hotspot for Doctors

U.S. Census figures tell us that based on percentage of population, Kewaunee County's Town of Lincoln is the 4th largest Belgian-American township in the United States today. Most immigration occurred in the late 1850s when the area was originally called GrandLez, named for a place in the Province of Namur, Belgium.

Within 35 years those Town of Lincoln immigrants produced 6 men who would become medical doctors. Why all those doctors? That most are Belgian is not surprising. Lincoln was filled with young immigrants raising large families, a fact reflected in the 1880 Eleventh Census of the United States which counted 1,147 residents in the town's growing population. 

One of those doctors, Dr. Edward J. Kerscher, was among the town's most prominent and beloved citizens. Of German descent, he was born there in 1885 and taught school in Euren* before attending medical school. As one held high in regard in both Door and Kewaunee Counties, he was feted at a day in his honor in June 1950. Nearly 25 years later, on March 22, 1974, Wisconsin Assembly passed a Resolution honoring Kerscher on his 89th birthday.  Kerscher’s predecessor Dr. LaFortune was practicing in the hamlet of Lincoln in 1887, planning to relocate to Bottkolville (Euren) later in the year. Dr. Kerscher followed him. When Kerscher was honored, it was noted that he spoke German, Belgian and English, but more than likely the others did too.

Green Bay's Bellin Hospital was founded by Dr. Julius Bellin, born in Lincoln in 1870. The father of former Green Bay Mayor Sam Halloin also went from Lincoln to make a mark on Green Bay. Records say Dr. Louis Halloin was born in Lincoln Town, though other records say he was born in the Town of Red River. But, he definitely practiced in Lincoln where he and his wife were known as "pedagogues." Finishing at New York's Rush Medical School in May 1887, Dr. John J. Looze was welcomed back to the area. At the time the Record reported him to be an "ambitious man of exemplary habits who deserves a good practice." Looze didn't remain in the county for the rest of his life as he relocated to Seymour in January 1898. Dr. William Witcpalek was a Bohemian who was born on a farm in Lincoln in 1871, just three months before the horrific event that came to be called the Peshtigo Fire.

Bizarre - or even hilarious - as it is today, Witcpalek left school to work in a meat market. It was said he was a competent butcher who eventually bought an interest in a butcher shop. He returned to school and became a teacher, serving in Lincoln for a few years, and then at other schools until 1907 when he moved his wife and children to Milwaukee so he could attend medical school. Two years later he went to Northwestern University, graduating in medicine and dentistry in 1911 and opening his Algoma practice in 1914. Witcpalek was said to inherit his desire to serve the sick from his mother mother, an herbalist and midwife.

Dr. Herb Foshion was another Belgian physician, born in 1895 at Thiry Daems, in Red River Town, a stone's throw from the others' birthplaces.  From there his family moved to the Town of Gardner in Door County. He attended Algoma High School and Door-Kewaunee County Normal School, not because he wanted to be a teacher, but because he wanted to further his education. Foshion enrolled in medical school at UW-Madison, an education interrupted by World War l. Receiving his M.D. degree at the University of Minnesota in 1923, Foshion arrived in Algoma on January 1, 1925 where, a few years later, he spear-headed a community hospital such as Bellin had done in Green Bay a few years earlier. Foshion wasn't born in the Town of Lincoln, but he was Belgian and the second to organize a hospital.

So why did all those men become doctors? It has been suggested they were children of those who had experienced the horrors of the Peshtigo fire and knew the way to a better life was a an education and making money. However, country doctors didn't make much money and often times were paid in fireplace wood, a pig, bushels of apples or whatever medium could be used. Perhaps those men recognized a need and filled it.

For generations following immigration, the Belgian-Americans were an insular people. Though other immigrant groups stuck together, they gradually assimilated. Assimilation took the Belgians generations however, and no doubt the assimilation was rooted in school consolidation.

Schools in the Belgian districts were thought to be of lesser quality than the non-Belgian districts. In the early days, an education wasn't essential. It was clearing the land, raising crops, cutting wood and everything else crucial for a survival that was little more than subsistence.  It was not only the Belgians who relied on those within their community. Those sharing a common language offered protection and comfort. There were always folk remedies such as poultices for colds and fevers, herbal teas for constipation and such complaints. Even cobwebs were regarded as valuable for stopping bleeding. Typhoid and diphtheria wiped out entire families and some never recovered from the grippe. Forests were so dense in the early days that getting the sick to a doctor would have been nearly impossible. Even as forests were cut down, travel and distance remained a drawback.

The six Town of Lincoln doctors provided an exceptional service to the Belgian community and to Kewaunee County beyond. Kerscher has  record of sorts among Wisconsin's country doctors. When he retired, it was noted that he had delivered over 4,100 babies.

For whatever reason, capable, hard-working men born within a few miles of each other within a generation gave all they had to family, relatives, neighbors and friends and those they met for the first time. They spoke the language and they were trusted. 

Algoma no longer has the hospital that began with Foshion, however its residents, those in Kewaunee County and all over Northeast Wisconsin are served at Bellin Hospital. Julius Bellin lives on. So do the other men!


*Euren was also known as Bottkolville and given its name by the Bottkol family that settled the area. Euren takes that name from the place from which the Bottkols came near Trier, Germany. Thiry Daems in Red River Township is an easy bike ride from any of the other birthplaces. Grandma's first cousin was one of the deaconesses working with Dr. Bellin at the founding of the hospital.

Sources include Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald, Ancestry and Wikipedia.




  

  

Kewaunee County History: Silos

As small farms fade farther and farther into the past, once proud barns deteriorate and old silos standing sentinel crumble. As an entire rural history dims, deteriorates and crumbles with all the rest, an old Pennsylvania Dutch adage comes to mind. True as it was in Lancaster County - “A plump wife and a full barn never did a man any harm” - was just as true in Kewaunee County. In 1900 it was true all over, however times - and what works or doesn’t or what is healthy or not - have changed.

On March 1, 1941, Lawrence and Millie rented, with the option to buy, what was known as the Miller farm on Highway 42 south of Algoma. Not long after the couple ended their five-year rental in March 1946, the significantly improved farm was purchased. The young couple relocated to the Town of Carlton where they bought the old McNally farm, a place chock full of history that was swallowed up years later with the advent of the nuclear plant

Just eighteen when his father died, Lawrence promised to remain on the farm caring for his mother and six younger siblings. Leaving school following his confirmation, he worked alongside his father who knew the young man had what it takes. Lawrence continued to consult with his father even when Pa was confined to the sickbed and dying. Including his father in a decision about buying a horse, the horse was brought to the bedroom window so Pa could pass judgment and be satisfied with the purchase.

As the eldest son charged with the task of keeping the family together, it was understood that the farm would still pass to his youngest brother as tradition dictated. The youngest son was then responsible for the care of the parents in their declining years. The year before his youngest brother registered for the World War ll draft in 1941, Lawrence and two of his sister married. At 32 Lawrence was a little older than average when he married Millie, 11 years his junior. Farmers generally were not drafted for World War ll, a time when it was assumed some non-farmers bought farms just to evade military service.

The young marrieds stayed on the family farm for the first season after their wedding, working the farm while seeking one to purchase themselves, and buying furniture for their eventual home. During the winter, the Miller farm in the Town of Pierce came up for rent with an option to buy. Feeling the rent of $500 per year plus payment of taxes was fair, the couple moved to the farm. $13,000 was the farm’s asking price, a price they felt was too high because the new Highway 42 separated the house and barn, both of which were in poor condition. What they really didn’t like was the in-ground silo.

The Miller farm’s 28’ silo went down into the ground, rather than up as a traditional silo is built. Rats that plagued the farm often fell into the silo. Farmers climb up into conventional silos, however getting into the in-ground silo wasn’t as easy. To get silage out, a bucket was lowered on a track – much like a bucket going into a well - filled and then pulled up. If Lawrence had to go into the silo, he tied his pant legs because of the rats. Build up of methane gas had to be addressed. Being built down below the barn floor rather than being outdoors, with the exception of the opening, the pit was covered with timbers and boards that were covered over with hay. That silo was dangerous and there there was next to nothing that was good about it. The day Lawrence almost fell in was well etched in his memory. This faith-filled man knew it was more than good fortune smiling on him when he managed to catch his arms on the timbers, able to drag himself up. 

The farm had not yet been sold in March 1946 when Millie and Lawrence’s contract terminated, and because they had not yet purchased their own farm, they had to sell the herd as there was no place to go with the cows. Cow buyers came when the couple was not at home, and when they arrived a short time later, the cows were milling about and walking in the barn floor. The buyers were inspecting the cows, not knowing about the in-ground silo. It was more than good fortune that day too because there was no loss of life or injuries to the buyers or the cattle.

Whether the in-ground silo brought more rats than any other is anyone’s guess, however rats were always a problem. Perhaps they came from a neighboring abandoned farm. Perhaps the chicken coop attracted the rats too. Putting out strychnine was the only way to get rid of them. Each evening the chickens were locked in the coop. After using the strychnine, the couple easily picked up a bushel of rats each morning. In the day, such an incredible story was called “talking through your hat.” Milkman Ed Hunsader thought so too until the day he arrived early and saw them himself.

There were other in-ground Kewaunee County silos that are long forgotten. If any remain, who would know they were there unless someone fell in? Beautiful square stone silos can still be found on farms in southern Kewaunee County, but mostly it is the squatty round silos that have survived, outlasting the barns that stood next to them.

There were few silos in the U.S. before the mid-1890s, however a mere 10 or 15 years later they were springing up all over. A silo was not an easy sell to a dairy farmer though. The University of Wisconsin advocated silos as a way to preserve crops for winter feeding. Since dairy cattle were pastured from spring to fall, that diet increased milk production, thus affecting the farmer's economic interests. If the same cow could be fed silage, reasoning was that milk production would increase during the winter, a historically low time for milk production. There were those who were sure the silage was bad for a cow’s stomach, affected proper digestion and even made the cow sick. For some time, silos were controversial. They also cost money. But, so did maintaining the herd during the long months of scanty production.

The concept of silos was not really anything new. Ancient Romans and Greeks used air-tight pits for storing grain, documented by Roman writers, and contemporary Europeans continued working on methods ensuring preservation of the summer harvest. It was well-known by the pioneering settlers that keeping vegetables in a pit - sometimes the well pit - would preserve food for use during the winter.

Horizontal, or pit silos – much like Lawrence and Millie’s – were introduced in the U.S. during the 1870s. They were built of wood or stone and either dug partially or entirely into the ground. Square vertical silos came about 10 years later. They too were wood or stone. The shape was a problem as air pockets were created in the corners. Sometimes the walls bowed out. Silage rotted more easily and few square silos were built after about 1900. Round silos came into vogue and were far superior to the others. Wooden silos deteriorated while brick and cement became the construction method of choice. Cement stave silos were popular, but are no longer built. Harvestores (below) became the silo of choice a generation ago although today's farmers tend toward bunkers and flat storage in plastic bags, allowing for far speedier access. Though towering cement silos are still seen at grain elevators and steel silos are built at rail heads, silos are rarely built on the mega farms that have replaced the small family farms that shaped much of the country.

Wisconsin Historical Society says Wisconsin has more silos than any other state. Driving the highways and byways of the state, the iconic structures stand out, begging to be noticed. Newer silos with manufactured domes often have the manufacturer’s name imprinted. The concrete squatty silos built before World War ll often sport some decorative piece reaching skyward as the builder’s trademark. One traveling Highway 54 between Algoma and Green Bay will spot at least 9 of William Diefenbach’s silos. He left his mark with a cement ball mid-way up a steel rod. Look hard to see one or two others off the highway. Traveling the side roads proves how busy Diefenbach and many other builders were more than 70 or 80 years ago.

Lonely silos tell a story of agrarian roots, the small family farms and folks like Lawrence and Millie who are no longer there. To see a dilapidated barn and no silo means that searching the area will probably yield footings or a ring of a once proud silo, a place where there was once a story. And there probably still is if one looks hard enough.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald; Blogger's interview with Millie, WHS farm facts; Wikipedia;  
ad from Algoma Record Herald; blogger's photos.

Kewaunee County & Valentine Days of Yore

Fifty years ago schools were festooned with red, white and pink hearts made by the kids who could hardly wait for the Valentine Day party and the exchange of cards that went with it. In a day when the word “love” brought the kind of twitters that “underwear” did, some kids wondered if they’d get a valentine from a girl or boy they especially liked. It was as true of first grade as it was of 8^th. In the days of the valentine boxes, sweet thoughts could be anonymously sent, but when each had to distribute his or her own, there was too much chance for error. Then there were the candy hearts with the printed sayings. To put any in the envelopes, or even to offer some hearts, meant one had to be sure the words were just right. Candy often led to total embarrassment. Besides that, a school kid can’t buy two dozen cards and envelopes for 10 cents anymore.

The origins of St. Valentine’s Day are all but forgotten in a time when it is all economics. It just happens to be crowded into a short month that also remembers George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Edison. Nobody buys candy, flowers or sends cards to remember them though. They were lucky enough to live before the guilt trips laid on by newspapers, TV and pop-ups about buying candy, flowers, restaurant meals and cards for that special someone.

Valentine Day was there over 100 years ago, but it morphed. As Valentine Day approached, the old papers carried serial love stories and articles. One such article mused about the number of unmarried woman and why that should be. The author thought a little valentine would be the right kind of “missile.” The author felt that there should be a way to trap the unmarried, getting them together socially. Maybe that is why the 1887 masquerade at Bottkol’s promised that “every care was taken to provide for the comfort and entertainment of visitors” who could expect a pleasant time. In the late 1890s the post office was offering valentines from 1 cent to 1 dollar. G.W. Warner’s store carried them too. The Record reminded people about Valentine’s Day in 1896 when it suggested not forgetting to send out “pretty letters.” That year saw a masquerade at the Opera House. First prize was $5. Perhaps masquerades offered the shy a way to be bold anonymously.

Things seemed to change a lot after 1900, prompting President Calvin Coolidge a little over 20 years later to be quoted saying, “The business of the country is business…” He wasn’t addressing Valentine Day, but the commercialization of Valentine Day had begun. Lace, embossed, and comic cards at Economical Drug were advertised in 1903 while Wilbur and Kwapil were claiming the finest boxed novelties ever, both up-to-date and dainty. Pity the poor man who bought a gift at L.C. Englebert’s. He was advertising American Beauty Corsets! Just as the day was really catching on, something happened. The post office felt that perhaps Valentine Day was losing favor as it delivered fewer valentines than any time in its history. Postal officials thought perhaps the majority forgot the event, but the officials were also hoping the day was marked with candy and flowers. They were feeling a good riddance to the vulgar, comic valentines that had gone through the mails. Years later a man nicknamed “Sqeegee” -destined to be Algoma’s postmaster - said that it was better to be “noted with a dastardly valentine than to go about unhonored and unhung.”

A few years after the post office noted the downswing, the paper was reporting school celebrations. It seemed as if Valentine's Day was coming back in another way. Pleasant View School Literary Society combined Lincoln’s birthday with Valentine’s Day in 1922 when parents were invited as special guests.  Recitations about Lincoln were delivered by scholars with names such as Besserdich, Kuehl, Schwantes and Steubs, and when the pieces were over the Valentine Box was the big thing.  The Mrs. Holly, Nooker, Wanie, Knutson and Ullman showed up for the short program at Bolt School, where part of the afternoon was spent distributing valentines. Longfellow School also had such an event with similar recitations. It was noted that Longfellow's Miss Barrand received many beautiful valentines, perhaps in part because her pupils were happy with the report cards they got a few days earlier. Woodside School combined the two events and it was noticed every child received their share of pretty valentines. There were kids in other schools whose valentines were mean-spirited.

Ahnapee Record had its start in June 1873 as Kewaunee County’s 2^nd newspaper. Its first editor-publishers were 16 year old George Wing and 17 year old Charles Borgman. The young men said their paper would be fair, addressing both sides of an issue. They lobbied for beautification, good schools, women’s rights, the county fair, and the environment. They also got into politics which made things quite heated with other newspapers that referred to them as “puny infants” and a host of other things. Wing and Borgman commented on Valentine Day 1874 when they said thanks to those who sent valentines their way – “the sentimental and otherwise.” More than likely, there were many more "otherwise."

Valentine Day is equated with love,  yet the day is the anniversary of its complete antithesis.  In the year 278, St. Valentine was beheaded in Rome. Al Capone and Chicago’s St. Valentine’s Day massacre are memories from 1929. President John F. Kennedy told U.S. Advisers in 1962 that they should fire in self defense. Things were happening in Vietnam. Some good things happened too. When Chicago was dealing with the massacre, the world was being told about the discovery of penicillin. In 1977 the B-52s played their first gig. They didn’t stop there and went on to make a lot of Valentine Days a little happier and memorable.

Sources: Algoma newspapers, An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River, c. 2001; Here Comes the Mail, Post Offices of Kewaunee County, Wikipedia.

A Claim to Fame: Harness Racing at Scarboro



Section from Kewaunee County 1912 Plat Map

 

Not quite mid-way while traveling Kewaunee County Highway A from Luxemburg to Kewaunee, one spots the Scarboro sign and wonders why it is there. Sportsmen today see the sign and think of fishing, however a little over 100 years ago it would have brought thoughts of horse racing. At the time, Scarboro was a small community with a cheese factory, sawmill, gristmill, blacksmith, ice house, saloon, school, church, store and more. Scarboro even had a cigar maker, but what it didn’t have was a post office and, as vibrant as the community was in the pre-Rural Free Delivery Days, the only reason was that nobody bothered to apply for one.

Scarboro’s claim to fame was the race track that attracted harness racers from all over Wisconsin. By 1910 racing events were bringing over 1,000 spectators paying an admission of 25 cents each to watch races on the circular, half mile track. Sometimes the purse was as much as $250, but that was when racers came from a distance. Local entrants such as August Spitzer, Billy Truedell, Frank Novak, John Hrabik, Joe Koss and Elmer Thibaudeau competed for much less - a $50 purse. Those locals represented the cream of Kewaunee County's crop.

Racing was a summer event until 1910 when some Luxemburg enthusiasts started talking about clearing the mill pond known as Scarboro Lake for horse racing. Before racing on the ice took place, Ed Kelliher and Otto Boness raced their horses right down Main Street in Luxemburg and when the race moved to the ice, it wasn’t either of those men who won. It was Camille Stage, the host of  Luxemburg’s Wisconsin House.

Novak-Kelnhofer Milling Company's Scarboro ice house supplied ice to taverns, restaurants and creameries. The ice harvest took precedence, and when it was taking place there were no races. Just as soon as that harvest ended, spectators again enjoyed the sport of horse racing on the ice.

Scarboro was on a roll when the unthinkable happened. Sometime around 1860, Slausson & Grimmer, the Kewaunee lumbering firm, built a sawmill on Scarboro Creek. For some reason a new dam was built in 187l, forming the mill pond referred to as Scarboro Lake, the site of the horse races. On July 7, 1912, lightening struck the gristmill, consuming it by fire. Two weeks later the heavy rains that caused destruction all over Kewaunee County brought the beginning of the end to Scarboro. The dam broke, spilling the water behind it into the valley below. It was a wonder nobody died as they were struck by logs and debris while trying to make it through waist deep water to higher ground. As a people, the community survived, however as a place of business, its vibrancy evaporated. At least for awhile, there was the racing.

Kewaunee County Racing Association had a new track at Scarboro in October 1916 when Door County Advocate took note of Scarboro, telling its readers that the Association was sponsoring events featuring the best horses in “this part of the state.” Featured were such Green Bay standouts as Noble, Pride Mate, Spyhnx and Duck Creek Lad. Sturgeon Bay’s own Paddy Gray was driving Melse. Management felt the crowds would be record breaking for the races that also included trot and pace colt races and races that were exclusively for Luxemburg horses.

A few days later, on the 20th, Algoma Record reported that (what was thought to be) the first annual racing program brought upwards of 2,000 from as far away as Green Bay, Denmark and Gillett. The Casco correspondent to the paper wrote that at least 200 from the village were at the races, and that every auto in the village was there too. The Association's new track was considered to be in great shape for its first year. Enthusiasm was rampant and more races were sure to follow. Though the big names of Kewaunee County racing were competing, most prizes, unfortunately, went to Green Bay horses.

During the following June, the Record told readership that Luxemburg persons were thinking to build a racetrack there. Editorializing, the paper said that if they went ahead there would be enough interest and enough races to last long into the future. By 1919, most races were indeed at Luxemburg, and then at the fairgrounds. Scarboro’s dirt track continued to be use at times - one of those times being a Red Cross benefit in 1929 – although the fairgrounds at Luxemburg has been the most prominent place for horse racing for nearly 100 years.

Henry Veeser sold his popular saloon to Frank Novak who refurbished and enlarged the building, having his grand opening in June 1912. It was just about a month later when the flooding undermined the building. It was not totally lost and went on to remain popular, operated by numerous owners over the years. As Drew's Hideway, it was the last business in the once prosperous Scarboro. The dam was rebuilt, but the forests were receding and there were so many other mills that its mill eventually closed. And the racetrack?  As farmer's field today, it might well be growing corn.

Where at one time everybody knew about the racing, another generation knew of maple syrup. There were a number of such camps in the area, the largest of which belonged to the Minahan brothers - Casco merchant Hugh and his physician brothers William and John. John served medical needs in Algoma and Casco. William gained fame when he went down on the Titanic, not long after their camp opened. Today's oldsters salivate remembering Milton Thibaudeau's syrup and the spring treks to his place.

There was a time when it was believed Scarboro would rise like the Phoenix.  There were those who felt the area would be the next big oil field but it was not to be. It’s another story, one told in an earlier blog.

Sources: Information and ads from the newspapers mentioned and Here Comes the Mail, Post Offices of Kewaunee County, c. 2010. Postcard and racing photo are the blogger's.

Kewaunee County and Buried Forests

Buried Alaskan forests made local news in Algoma's Record in 1902. Since the buried forests were in places where trees did not then exist, discussions followed theories on whether the Arctic might have once been tropical or semi-tropical. Buried forests had been found in Kewaunee County years earlier, but as primitive as communications were, such finds were not well known.

Walking the Lake Michigan beach today in southernmost Carlton Town, one sees what appears to be tree trunks and branches sticking out of the bluff. What is visible is a small part of the Two Creeks Buried Forest, a unit of the Ice Age National Scientific Reserve which has been a popular study site for North American geologists, botanists, glacial ecologists and climatologists. Designated a State Natural Area in 1967, the Two Creeks buried forest area is owned by the DNR and law prohibits the removal of any material. Googling Two Creeks Buried Forest will bring a wealth of information. A fascinating article in NPS Scientific Monograph No. 2 (online) tells us, “Few Pleistocene sites in the United States have gained more prominence in the recent literature than this forest bed.” In 1936 researcher Mr. Wilson found the same forest bed exposed near the lake in Section 35 of Carlton Township. The same article points out that Kewaunee County’s known buried forests were described much like researcher Mr. Goldthwaite described Two Creeks in 1905. 

The news about the State of Alaska seems to have prompted an article in the Enterprise. Over 100 years ago it ran an article pointing out that southern Casco and eastern Luxemburg towns were also built on buried forests, also reflecting periods of glaciations. Ordinary citizens knew little of such science, however at the same time - 1907 - publication of The Abandoned Shores-Lines of Eastern Wisconsin described the effects of glaciation the Lake Algonquin era and more.

As early as 1860 Dennis Shinnick suspected his property was sitting on top such a forest. Shinnick lived in what was then called Coryville (1869 postal site map, left) and was digging a well. Digging about 38’ down, he found a log that measured about 8” in diameter. As he kept digging, he came upon more of what appeared to be the same tree. Shinnick shared the find with Judge Abner Cory who told others. The somewhat porous and spongy wood was hard to identify. Shinnick said the first 10’ of his dig was through hard, yellow clay, but that the wood was found in muck. The feeling was that muck was the top of the soil at an earlier time.

1905 postcard

As unusual as Shinnick’s find was, it appears it never made real headlines. The fledgling Enterprize*  was the county’s only newspaper. In years that followed, here and there along the Kewaunee River, there were also evidences of a buried forest. Wenzel Pavlik was doing some digging about 1880 on his farm near Clyde and about 30’ down he found a well-preserved tree in a bed of solid clay. Intending to farm, Pavlik had been clearing much of the land over the area under which he found the specimen. Where did that tree come from? In the 1890s when railroad work was being accomplished at Clyde, the superintendent ordered a well be dug to provide water for the work crews. Digging just a bit west of the station, the crew came upon buried trees producing a smell that made them retch. Not risking water from the area, the hole that was about 20’ deep was filled in. The Shinnick, Pavlik and station sites were in the same general area.

Nearly 10 years after Shinnick’s find, Joseph Cmeyla had a similar experience in Pierce Town. Cmeyla didn’t come upon trees while digging his well, but he and those helping found ashes about 17’ down. Beneath that was vegetable matter consisting of cedars and so on, but just above that was sand and gravel.

Sturgeon Bay’s The Expositor began educating its readers about buried forests as early as 1876 when it wrote about such things in distant places such as New Jersey and London, England. The Expositor- Independent in 1879 described a find in Hesse Cassal, Germany, a description that could have been Shinnick’s or Pavlik’s. In 1890 the Advocate carried an article about buried cedar in Walworth County. Perhaps the area news didn’t travel or perhaps residents felt those kinds of things didn’t happen here. For whatever reason little was written about what was found in their own backyard.

According to Wisconsin Historical Markers website, the ancient forest near Two Creeks reflects a forested area of about 12,000 years ago. Parking is available for anyone wishing to walk the area and parking directions can be found on the site. Wisconsin income tax forms have a check-off for anyone wishing to donate to the protection of our endangered resources.

Notes: The Town of Coryville was organized by the Kewaunee County Board in November 1856  and named for Abner Cory. The town's July 27, 1860 census shows Coryville had 62 families living within its limits. Chapter 291 of the Laws of the State of Wisconsin in March 1867 changed the town's boundary lines and the Town of Coryville was dissolved. Some sections of the town went to Casco and others to Montpelier and the Town of Kewaunee.
Abner Cory was elected the first county judge in 1857 and served until 1865 when he was succeeded by C.G. Boalt of Ahnapee. Cory lived about a mile south of Clyde. He was Coryville’s first postmaster, appointed 10/16/1866. His office was in the NE quarter of Sec 4 in T23, R24.
*The Enterprize became Enterprise in 1865.

 

 Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise, Sturgeon Bay Advocate, Expositor, Expositor-Independent; The Abandoned Shore-Lines of Eastern Wisconsin, c. 1907; Here Comes the Mail, Post Offices of Kewaunee County, c. 2010, Wikipedia, Wisconsin Historical Markers' website. Photos are from the blogger's collection.