Easter Finery, the Easter Bunny, Eggs and Ahnapee/Algoma

www.hollywoodsgoldenage.com

As early as 1870, there were Easter parades in New York City, the most famous of which is remembered yearly in the 1948 film by the same name. Judy Garland was beaming, wearing her Easter bonnet, strolling down New York’s 5^th Avenue with Fred Astaire, smiling and ready to be photographed for the rotogravure. The Record/Record Herald never had a rotogravure, but it doesn’t mean the city was lacking Easter bonnets. Papers before 1900 advertised spring bonnets while Kohlbeck’s was advertising Easter finery – spring suits and Stetson hats - for men.

Well before World War l, Algoma youngsters looked forward to the Easter Rabbit and Easter candy. Children in the primary grades usually found candy in a nest at school. Often there were egg hunts and contests – such flash card math drills – for candy and egg prizes. The papers admonished boys and girls to get their nests ready. Nests? One hundred years ago, Algoma boys and girls left nests to be filled, not a basket.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pysanka

Where did it all come from? History tells us Easter eggs date to the early Christians in Mesopotamia who used eggs to symbolize the empty tomb. The early eggs were dyed red, signifying the blood of Christ at the crucifixion. The custom spread into Russia through the Orthodox Church and later through Europe. Pysanka  (the Ukrainian wax batik)  Easter eggs are the subject of classes. Faberge’s jeweled eggs created for the Russian tsars are known to most only because of photos.  The church – Pope Paul V - adopted the egg custom as an emblem of the resurrection in 1610.

Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, Pancake Day, Shrove Tuesday are names for the day before Ash Wednesday and and the beginning of Lent. It was a time to clean up all the eggs which, in the early church, were forbidden during Lent. However there was no way from stopping hens from laying and at the end of the 40 days, there was a huge supply of eggs. Early Christian traditions celebrating the resurrection were no doubt connected with the Lenten regulations. Symbolism remains and many of today’s Christian churches have Easter egg hunts for the children, reminding them of the empty tomb.

Early Christians didnt' have a rabbit delivering eggs, but rabbits are known for their fertility and eventually Peter Cottontail found his way into Easter. The website www.compelling truth.com says, "As hares and rabbits are extremely fertile, it's easy to see why they would become symbols of the season. But the Roman Catholic Church may have had another motive. Ancient legend claimed that hares are so fertile they can propagate asexually. The idea of an entire species that is prone to virgin births would be intriguing, and carvings of hares on various Catholic cathedrals led to speculation that the rabbit was a symbol of the Virgin Mary". Googling the hares indicates they are not only used in carvings on Catholic churches, and the formation of the ears of three hares in a circle can actually represent the Trinity.

History tell us that just as the Germans gave us Christmas trees, it was probably the Germans who brought their egg-laying rabbit called "Osterhase" to America. Their children made nests in which the animal could lay its colored eggs. Discovery.com tells us, "The first Easter Bunny legend was documented in the 1500s. By 1680, the first story about a rabbit laying eggs and hiding them in a garden was published. These legends were brought to the United States in the 1700s, when German immigrants settled in Pennsylvania Dutch country, according to the Center for Children's Literature and Culture. The tradition of making nests for the rabbit to lay its eggs in soon followed. Eventually, nests became decorated baskets and colorful eggs were swapped for candy, treats and other small gifts."

Blessings of Easter baskets is found in early church hisotry. Polish Catholics in Pulaski keep the Holy Saturday custom of their ancestors when they bring decorative baskets containing eggs and food to church. The blessed food is part of the Easter Sunday dinner. No doubt the parishioners at St. Hedwig's at Krok also took part in the time-honored tradition.

Brightly colored baskets have replaced nests made by children generations ago, but today’s children still wait for the Easter Bunny and the candy and eggs he will bring. If the kids – or even the adults - see the egg representing Jesus’ tomb, it could be because of the eggs the pastor brought for the children’s sermon.

Ahnapee/Algoma stores as Katches, Gamble Store, Joanne’s, Wiese, Lucille’s Danek, Brey-Leischow. Brey-Zander, Bach-Dishmaker and more joined Kohlbeck’s in offering Easter finery. For over 100 years Rineharts had the shoes to go with the new outfits. Milliners such as Melchior, Barnes, the Hunsader sisters and  others were there to design the new hats. Some years folks wore their new clothes to the Easter balls. Holub’s Band played at Ed Mauer’s Bruemmerville hall for a 1908 Easter dance. Mauer even offered free transportation between the city (Algoma) and his establishment. Frelich’s Band played at Leonard Meunier’s Alaska House the same year, but Meunier did not offer transportation.

 In a time when folks kept chickens in town, having enough eggs was not a problem, and there were always the grocery stores to provide them. F & A Market had them. So did Katches, the Farmer Store, Cashway, Foteys, Arndts and the Piggly Wiggly. The grocery stores sold candy that could also be found at confectioneries such as Warners, Tietz, Ponaths and more. Only the Piggly-Wiggly remains.

Looking around at Easter this year, one realizes it is a time when the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

Sources: Rev. L. Swenson's Easter sermon; Ahnapee Record/Algoma Record Herald; Black, Vicki K. Welcome to the Church Year: An Introduction to the Seasons of the Episcopal Church, July 2004; Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol 2, c. 2012. Three Hares as a Representation of the Trinity, Threeharesblogspot.com, Aug. 2010.

Fresh Fish: We Didn't Know Algoma was a Gourmet Paradise

Algoma's Fishing Fleet on the Ahnapee River: A Time that Was

Beautifully presented trout, perch and whitefish in glass display cases is mouth-watering. Fish like that brings distant but still fond memories of Toot, Cliff, Art, Joe, Shorty, Barry, Kelly and Frank,  the Bohmans, LaFonds, Pagels, Andersons and more. Buying fish from any one of Algoma’s commercial fishermen meant only the best and the freshest. It was gourmet before we knew what gourmet was.

Trout boil

Algoma kids grew up with the best, and those kids-turned-adults know what the best stores have to offer today generally isn’t good enough. There are lots of places passing themselves off as fish markets and apparently folks are happy with them, but those folks didn't grow up on Lake Michigan. If only the likes of Toot or George Bohman could come back to teach a thing or two about fresh fish. More than a few kids who grew up in Algoma tell about their store-bought, smelly fish going right to the garbage, although digging a hole next to the roses and rhubarb offers gardeners a far better choice.

Kids walking across the bridge to and from St. Mary’s School during the 1940s and ‘50s, and even later, knew what was happening at the shanties. Although the kids were usually too late to see the fish tugs going out, the tugs were coming in as the kids were walking home. There wasn't a kid who didn't know what a net drying rack was and they all knew the fish were cleaned immediately. They knew the seagulls plaguing them were looking for a delicious dinner of slimy fish guts. They also knew to watch it. As hundreds and hundreds of seagulls flew around the bridge, there was surely at least one that dropped “it” on one of the kids. Then there was always the 4^th grade boy who picked up a decaying fish from the bridge deck and started chasing the girls, particularly the one he said the really didn’t like.  Fourth graders boys didn't have it figured out in those days.

Nets drying on racks

Beginning on the few and far between shirtsleeve days of April and into October, the kids would see artists with their oils and canvas set up on the south side of the bridge. The south side offered a vantage point as most of the shanties lined the north side of the river. Kelly and Joe were tied up almost adjacent to the south side of the bridge and Shorty took his tug just beyond it. It was a scene the kids saw daily during their 8 years of school. Painting wasn’t part of the school art classes and surely anyone who would paint fish boats and tugs was from Chicago, somebody with money and nothing to do. The kids looked for fancy cars with Illinois plates. Chicago people didn’t know how to drive their big cars. They drove fast and passed on the right side of the road, so it wasn’t any wonder they’d be painting pictures of old sheds and tugs. But, because big shipments of fish were sent to Chicago markets, maybe some of those Chicago people wanted to prove they knew where the best fish were caught.

When the kids saw the pound (pond) nets off the Campsite, they knew it was mostly herring, and maybe a few perch, being caught. The gill netters went out far enough to net trout and chubs. In the late 1940s, a catch of 200# was big, prompting Goosey to tell stories of lifts of over 1,500# in his dad’s day.

Before World War ll there were over 20 men going out of Algoma, rain or shine, hot or cold. Sometimes it was a deep freeze or pea-soup fog that kept them in the harbor, but mostly the engines were chugging as early as first light to begin a day that was long. The tugs needed to get at least a few miles out before Lake Michigan was deep enough. Each boat had its own grounds and one did not encroach on another.

Then things began to change. World War ll meant a big need at the shipyards and some of the men left for the yards, leaving tugs short staffed. A few years later laws began changing and catches were limited. There were new smoking regulations that left the once deliciously moist smoked chubs dry. As lamprey eels began causing a steep decline in the numbers of big fish, commercial fishermen found few trout that didn’t show a mark from an eel attack. Eventually there were eel traps that began killing them. That prompted a new industry – fish fertilizer. As the DNR started encouraging more and more private fishing, it wasn’t just pan fishing in the state's rivers.  Swaty Creek was developed as a holding pond for the fingerling salmon that were eventually released into the lake. Almost overnight Algoma became a mecca for sports’ fishermen who easily got their limits. Charter fishing sprung up, attracting people from all over the mid-west. Commercial fishing waned and as the men retired, nobody took their places.

Net needles

It took the kids 40 or 50 years to know what they had and what it represented. They tell their kids and grandkids – who really don’t want to listen anyway – what it was like. Most of those 60, 70 and 80 year old kids don’t know what it was like in Ahnapee when the mackinaws were sailing or being rowed out in 1880, well before the coming of the Kahlenburg engine that made for the shape of the fish tugs today.  They forget about the boats stuck in the river ice, or the returning freezing fishermen with icicles dangling from their caps. But if they see a net needle, they’ll know what it is.

When Andy LaFond left the harbor in 2008, an entire industry went with him. Leelanau, Michigan has kept its tar paper sheds and its shanty village is a tourist attraction that speaks of a time that was. The fish tug exhibited at Rogers Street Fishing Village in Two Rivers offers visitors an opportunity to easily learn how such vessels did their job. Art Dettman’s shanty is on the historic register and remains on the north bank of the Ahnapee River. As for the rest, it exists in the memories of those of a certain age and in the paintings of those who didn’t know how to drive, but sure knew what they were looking at!

To learn about commercial fishing from Washington Island to Kewaunee,  find  Trygvie Jensen’s Through Waves and Gales Come Fishermen’s Tales, c. 2009, and Wooden Boats and Iron Men, c. 2007. To learn about Algoma's commercial fishing history, historian Wendell Wilkie has written The Real Shanty Days, a three volume series.

Algoma & the World War ll Victory Houses

As the country was digging its way out of the Great  Depression, housing was one of its great pent-up demands. Marriages had been delayed and many who did marry lived with family members or rented a spare room in the home of a stranger. As for Algoma, it looked as if things would improve when an April 1936 building boom brought expectations of ten or more homes to be built. In addition to reducing the shortages, home building would provide needed jobs.

Alleviating shortages was on the minds of many, and some of the suggestions were most creative. In 1916, even before the U.S. entry into what became World War l, there were thoughts of turning the old Goodrich side-wheel steamer Chicago into a floating boarding house. It was felt that if the boat was piped and heated with steam, its 100 staterooms could provide accommodations for 100-200 shipyard workers during the winter. Expense would be minimal. At least it was an idea that would upgrade one human habitation to another. Some of the upgrades began with what had begun as animal quarters.

Political strife in Europe - that which led to World War ll - also made for jobs, many created by Lend Lease. Then came the Day of Infamy. Countless numbers of couples married before the new husband was drafted, or before he was shipped out. The housing shortage continued.

Shortages had been in the news for years and by 1946 one staggering factoid made newspaper readers aware that the number of big trees destroyed by fire each year could have supplied enough lumber for building 215,000 five-room homes. By then, housing was being addressed, however in August 1948 Wisconsin’s health officer Dr. Carl Neupert expressed his concerns saying shortages were still felt beyond returning veterans. Neupert called attention to the health issues facing doubled up households or families living in makeshift structures. 

As World War ll era production workers relocated to such places as Algoma and Kewaunee, the already acute housing shortage was made worse. New building had been curtailed by the War Production Board, but then came Victory Houses, a square or rectangular no frills home. Depending on where they were built, they were mostly one-story structures of either wood or brick. 

During a 2004 interview, historian Millie Rabas told this blogger and two others how Plywood employees from Birchwood lived in her Kirchman hotel, doubling up in rooms and sharing beds. Sometimes the bed mates had never before met.  Algoma’s already critical housing shortage got even worse when Algoma Plywood announced intentions to transfer its veneer cutting operations from Birchwood.  The city council knew if there was any hope of meeting housing needs, Algoma had to be declared a critical defense area by the War Production Board. The city engineer was instructed to go forward in seeking such approval.

Algoma Plywood announced in August 1942 that it also was attempting to address the housing issue. The Federal Housing Authority eased up on restrictions and it looked as if the city would see as many as 20 new homes. The Plywood kept applications and offered employees information through General Manager G.H. Hunt. The homes were to be built for or by Algoma Plywood and Veneer or its employees only, or could be rented by Plywood employees for the duration of the war. The entire home cost was limited to $6,000 tops. There was also an effort to find buildings that could be converted to housing. There are some today who would be most surprised to learn their home had once served as a stable or barn. A month later the city council approved a plat for a Victory housing addition to the city, and Algoma Fuel Co. began erecting 7 homes for either rental or sale to defense workers.

By October, seven homes were going up in the old city gravel pit property along Division St., Four were being built on the west end of Steele and four more on Church St. The Fuel Company’s Frank Lohrey felt the home on the northwest corner of Division and Washington would be done about the 1^st of December with the other homes being completed at the rate of one a week. It was big news at Valentine’s Day 1943 when the Record Herald told readers that Mr. and Mrs. Hubert Knapmiller and daughter Margaret had just moved from Birchwood to live in one of the Division St. houses. At the same time the Wenniger apartments, across Church

St. from St. Mary’s School, were nearing completion. Six families would find housing in the modern building.

Then there was a new problem. In January 1943 Fire Chief A.F. Meyer discussed Algoma’s 1942 fire calls. There were 14 within the city limits. Damage amounted to just over $215,000, but an even bigger issue was better fire protection, particularly at a time when the city couldn’t meet its housing needs. Growing demands within the city meant a greater emphasis on equipment expansion and  equipment maintenance. Planning was of the utmost importance.

During May 1943 Otto Krueger started the basements for two homes at the bottom of the Church St. hill. One was on the northeast corner of Church and North Water while the other would be across Water St. That one faced north. The houses filled up as soon as they were ready, but still the need existed. Louis Welk was discharged from the Navy in February 1945 and had to remain in Dearborn, Michigan. Although Welk and his wife had planned to return to Algoma, the housing shortage kept him in Dearborn.

In August 1946 Ted Gartzke was named depot agent at Algoma. He was bringing his family, which included four children, from Winona, Minnesota, but there was no place for them to live. The move was delayed. The family did find a home on the Bucholtz farm and was eventually fortunate enough to secure one of the Division Street homes, but by then the war was over. The following August, it was the new football coach, Harry Schwartz, who had a rough time finding a home. Schwartz surely had too much school in his life. The only available place was the Third Ward school, also known as the Irving Demonstration School. When the Schwartz family arrived, the school had been cleaned and made as livable as possible. As so many others, the Schwartz family "made do." When the Louis Leischow family moved into their newly built Kodan farm home, their old home was moved to Algoma to provide living quarters.

Algoma Record Herald editor Harry Heidmann hoped to see the shortage alleviated in 1947. At the time Kewaunee was planning to build 25 new homes to solve its housing crisis. The editor wondered how it would go because all over Algoma there were basements dug, and here and there were foundations. Progress was slow, however, and little was going forward because essential materials were unavailable. Kewaunee had local financing and expectations were that wood could be cut from area woodlots and dried in kilns at local lumber yards. There were assurances that critical materials would be salvaged from government owned projects. But when?

April 1949 brought a new question. Liquor sales brought extra taxes designated for housing projects. Public policy was to stimulate construction where it was most critical. Editor Heidmann was ahead of his time when he opined the best way to build was to give the veteran a house payment from the special fund and allow him to build his house where and when he wanted to. Ten years later, in 1959, housing shortages still came to mind when Record Herald columnist Lois Pflughoeft quipped about the number of housing inquiries the paper got. She said she fully expected to see somebody living in the telephone booth at 4^th and Steele.

Housing and affordable housing opportunities are questions today, however the issues are far different than they were between 1930 and 1950.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald, Algoma's commercial histories Vol. 1 & 2; Cox-Nell House Histories found at Algoma Public Library; Wikipedia; Women of the Plywood, the War Years.