October 8, 1871: The Devastation of Northeast Wisconsin

It was 145 years ago on September 21 that Imelda was born. A little over three weeks later, the infant was dead.

Clouds of thick gray smoke filled the air that stifling hot day on which Imelda was born. Windows were tightly closed in an effort to seal smoke and dust from the house but still it continued to seep into the cracks and under the doorways. There was no way to keep the house clean or make a difference in air they breathed. Washing clothes was nearly a futile effort when hanging the wet clothing outdoors meant it would look worse than before it was laundered. Freshly washed clothing was free of sweat and body oils, but airborne dirt and dust was drawn to it like nails attracted to a magnet dropped in the center. Wells, creeks and springs had mostly dried up in the weeks before October and with the ground dry to a depth of two feet, washing clothes was not something done frivolously.

For weeks boats often by-passed the smoke filled harbors of Kewaunee, Ahnepee* and Foscoro. Captains had no idea where they were when they were unable to see landmarks. Boats that did make entrance frequently bumped into others which they couldn't see until it was too late. A boat making Kewaunee went aground when its captain thought he was farther out that he actually was. Ahnepee folks were often unable to clearly see across Steele Street in the fog and thick smoke. Eyes watered and burned. Throats were sore and raw for weeks. Anybody with a million dollars would have gladly paid it as ransom for fresh, cleansing air. For the elderly or those with chronic lung ailments, it was even worse. For infants such as Imelda, how could their tiny lungs possibly sustain them?

Conditions worsened and on Sunday, October 8, the fires of hell ravaged Northeast Wisconsin. The wind that had been blowing all day stopped in the evening leaving a deathly, eerie silence. Fear was in the air even before the sounds of living all but disappeared. The hair on the dogs stood up. Bluejays and crows stopped their caws and animals ran from the woods toward the lake. Suddenly the orange glow appearing in the southwest began to grow. The ground seemed as if it was trembling, but it got worse. That deathly silence turned into a howling wind and almost immediately the howling became a roar that brought fire. It seemed as if flames were racing toward Ahnepee from every direction.

For weeks on end, the populace lived in fear of fire. Families had escape plans that were forgotten as people panicked before the flames lighting up the sky. Terrified men, women and children ran toward the lake and the river, pushing and shoving others in their haste to join cows, horses, dogs and other animals crowding into the water. Some were shocked into silence and disbelief while others were shrieking in terror. Even the animals were screaming piteously.

Parents held tightly to their children. If death was inevitable, they would enter paradise together. Just when everybody knew the end was near, the rain came. It came in torrents that pelted and stung those who had no shelter. The only people who found shelter were those able to crowd on to the ships at anchor in the harbor, or those on the ships whose captains had gone farther into Lake Michigan. Imelda’s mother held the tiny infant while her father held tightly to her mother, trying to protect the child from the cold, pelting, stinging rain

Hours and hours later it seemed as if there was no sign of the raging hell fire and folks began leaving the water wondering what they’d find or if they’d find anything. But the night was black as pitch and few of the wet, shivering survivors wanted to venture too far from the freezing water. When day broke and residents could see Ahnepee, it appeared that while buildings were black with soot and char, the buildings were still standing. As far as the eye could see to the north or south, all they saw was char.

What happened next is almost a blur. Relief Committee Chairman Franz Swaty organized men to canvas the town, checking to see if anyone had perished, was severely injured or needed other immediate assistance. Townsfolk thanked the Lord because there were no fire deaths in Ahnepee. Not right then. Within a few days there were deaths, not because people died in the fire but because of it. Faggs went into their well to escape the fire. They came out alive but within days 9 year old Anna had pneumonia and died. Mr. McCosky who lived in the south part of town had some kind of breathing or lung ailment. It wasn’t long before he died too. For some years there were the deaths of many who survived the fire only to die with ailments related to it.

As for Imelda, she never had a chance. The tiny lungs that barely sustained her after her birth were not strong enough to keep her alive in the days following the fire. Maybe she had pneumonia too. Who knows? Imelda was on this earth for a little over three weeks 145 years ago. Why is she remembered? She was Grandma’s much older sister, born a year following their parents wedding. Grandma was born 20 years later, a “change of life baby” who was a joy to her parents in their advancing years.

For months in 1871, Northeast Wisconsin residents prayed for rain that did not come. Fires were continuously breaking out. Most were extinguished and some burned themselves out. In the 145 years since the fires, newspaper articles were written and rewritten until a point where many of the fires preceding the destruction of October 8 were merged with it. Kewaunee was spared the most horrific as Ahnepee was. Red River and Lincoln Towns were all but destroyed. Devastation ruled in Kewaunee County.

It took generations before the weather patterns were completely understood, that the fire did not jump the bay of Green Bay and just how many fires there actually were. Loss of life kept escalating and even today, nobody knows for sure how many died as people were continually moving into the area. There were language barriers and many did not know their neighbors. Occurring the same day, the Chicago fire went down in history while fires in Wisconsin and Michigan, Upper and Lower, got little notice.

Peshtigo’s remarkable fire museum and a fire cemetery speak volumes. But where do Door and Kewaunee Counties fit in the mix that has contributed to dairying, to the environment and to life as we know it 145 years later? Our parents and grandparents passed down family stories of trees that exploded, and of humans that also seemed to explode leaving nothing but ash in the wake. They talked about moving piles of ash and dirt that were survivors, only evidenced by the whites of their eyes. They talked of starvation and lack of water fit to drink. Inhabitants of Door and Kewaunee Counties had been there less than 20 years. They worked their fingers to the bone to build a new life but were left with nothing except their lives. To some, death would have been preferable to what came next.

One hundred forty five years later, residents under 50 or 60 in northern Kewaunee and southern Door Counties are beginning to learn about the fires. Much can be learned simply through Googling or going to Oconto County Historical Society website. The online Ahnapee/Algoma archived newspapers or the Door and Oconto County newspaper archives have a wealth of information. Weather bureau maps tell a story of what was made worse by the almost clear cutting of Wisconsin’s magnificent forests. Forests stood in the way of that regarded as progress.

Imelda’s death and young parents named Desire and Emmerence, who survived with their young son Eugene, have prompted this blogger to do countless presentations about the fire in Kewaunee County. The great-granddaughter of Desire and Emmerence presents the fire as it happened in the predominantly Belgian areas of  Door County. Honoring Desire and Emmerence and the rich history of the Belgian people is the newly opened Belgian Heritage Center at Namur. The ribbon cutting was held On October 8, 2016, a most fitting day.

The center will be open on weekends through the remainder of October and will reopen late next spring. Brown, Kewaunee and Door County historical societies collaborated on a brochure/map of the remaining Belgian roadside chapels. Belgian heritage driving tour maps are also available. A stop at most of the area’s taverns offers a cold brew, great burgers and real booyah. Spending a day or two in the area radiating from the hamlet once known as Delwiche and then Fairland before being renamed Namur is sure to enrich.

Notes: *Ahnepee was renamed Ahnapee in 1873 when the newly elected village fathers felt that since the community's name was consistently spelled incorrectly by the state, it looked as if the couldn't beat 'em so they joined 'em. Ahnepee was recorded however by the Department of Post Offices and appeared on the post marks.

Peshtigo Fire Museum at Peshtigo contains Kewaunee County artifacts, many of which are attributed to the Post family. There are buildings in both Algoma and Kewaunee that have charred beams, prompting owners to feel their buildings were scarred in the fire. While it is indeed possible, some of these buildings were relocated. Records indicating age of the buildings that it is likely they were constructed with charred timbers that still retained strength. For years there wasn’t a lot to build with.

Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River? c. 2001; A Home for Amelia: From Konigriech Sachsen to Wisconsin's Peninsula, c. 2016; In From the Fields: A Family's Story, c. 1995; Algoma Record Herald. The above cover and the photo are from the blogger's collection.