Algoma Box & Dowel/Algoma Dowel Co.

Algoma Dowel Company 

Algoma Box and Dowel is a distant memory in the annals of Algoma business. It began with the commercial fishermen's need for fish boxes. and Melvin Keller who originally fished with his father-in-law Frank Wizner, When Keller was working in the Sturgeon Bay shipyards during the early years of World War ll, he returned to Algoma, late in the winter afternoons, to join Wizner and the commercial fishermen assembling fish boxes in Walter Busch’s fish shanty. It was in 1944 that Kelly, as he was known, formed Algoma Box and Dowel Co., still operating in the shanty.

By 1948, Algoma Fuel Co. owned Busch’s shanty, and in 1951 Melvin Keller began planning the construction of a manufacturing plant on the northeast corner of S. Church and Michigan Streets, or 80 S. Church St. Michigan Street has its own history, but finding it takes some work as the city removed it from service for awhile. Michigan Street ran between the Box and Dowel and Northern Pallet Co., now Smashed on the Rocks at 70 S. Church St.

When Melvin Keller bought the land in the Third Ward for his anticipated factory, the property was designated as residential. Keller appeared before the city council, requesting the property rezoned as light industrial. It was. The property was a bit northeast of Kelly’s location at the rear of the Fuel Co, a site purchased from George McArthur and Sons of Baraboo who acquired the it from J.C. Anderegg Manufacturing Co. Keller made it clear he didn’t intend to build immediately, but he did want to clear the way for the eventuality.

In June 1952, Keller decided it was time to build. Operating in the Fuel Co. shed meant the high river levels and frequent water in the plant,. That forced the issue, driving Melvin Keller to apply for permission to construct a concrete block building.

Keller’s permit was the only industrial application in November 1952, and after his building was approved, he had to request sanitary and storm sewers, and water for the new building. The utilities were on Church Street, having come from North Water to Michigan. In late November, the Box and Dowel, in Government Lot 3, became part of Sewer District #3, along with Marcel Koss on the southwest corner of North Water and Church. Keller and Koss were assessed $200. Algoma Fuel Co., also in District #3, owning that part of Lot 3 lying north and northeast of the Ahnapee River and east of the 2^nd Street bridge and Lot 9, east of and Street and south of north water, paid a utilities’ assessment of $276.

Early in January 1953, the Box and Dowel was up and running in its spacious new quarters. But, where did the dowel part of its name come from? While the fledgling company was producing the fish boxes in the shanty, it began making spreaders for the hammocks manufactured by Algoma Net Co., where Melvin Keller’s mother-in-law Mae Wizner was the floor manager. Having a dowel rod machine expanded the business. Purchase of a second rod machine put the company in the glue pin business. Spiral shaped, the glue pins of a few inches were used in the manufacture of doors and windows, and in furniture construction. The company produced chair legs, and built crating for skids used by Algoma Foundry, another long-gone Algoma business with a rich history.

Keller's crew had grown when employees posed for this May 1954 Record Herald photo. From left are Louis Berger, Mel Keller, Eugene Lamperuer, Wally Englebert, Lester Worachek, Ed Fenske, Joe Schmidt, Roland Luedtke and Frank Wizner.

Most of the wood used by the company came from Kewaunee and Door Co. loggers and farmers who brought in the preferred easy-to-work-with, easy-to-dry birch and beech bolts. The bolts were cut into boards and kiln dried to a moisture content of 7%. The boards were ripped into strips and finally run through the dowel machine. After that, the dowel rods went through a pin cutter which, in 1949, could cut an astounding 400 pins a minute. During May 1953, Keller filed a another building permit application with the City of Algoma. This time he planned to build his own 32' x 43' concrete block dry kiln, and did.

As any other small business owner, Keller had enough headaches. Algoma was hit by a violent lake storm in September 1951 when the flooding along the river meant Keller was seriously affected. The wash soaked ready-to-be-shipped glue pins which had to go back into the kiln for further drying.

A year later, it happened again when a southeaster ate 15 feet into the shore, significantly damaging river property. Losses were heavy. High seas flooded Art Dettman’s pop and beer depot, close to the mouth of the river on its north side. The floors of the Box and Dowel and Toots’ Fish Market were inundated by the water that covered the floors of all the fish shanties along the river. Even the Fuel Company suffered heavy losses. It was estimated that two-carloads of coal, about 100 tons, were washed away before Frank Lohrey could get the necessary men and trucks to build a temporary seawall on the coal dock.

One of Keller’s problems, in March 1956, was caused by Michigan Street and its status. As neighbors complained about sawdust from the hopper blowing around the neighborhood, Keller tried to address their concerns. He felt that moving the hopper to the south side of his building would correct the situation, but Michigan Street was on the south side of the building. Addressing the city, Keller pointed out that Michigan Street was not used and probably never would be. He told the city that he would sign an agreement saying that if he could use a portion of Michigan Street, he would move his hopper whenever the city needed the street. Council apparently felt that the request had other implications and forwarded the request to be studied by the street committee. Nothing happened, and Keller ended up erecting a high board fence on the north and east sides of the hopper. The plant was on the west side and, since the river was to the south, nobody else really cared.

The sawdust hopper was in the news a year later when it was destroyed by fire. It seemed that a spark from a  machine ignited the sawdust via the blower system. The hopper was rebuilt, but in the same place, only to be destroyed by fire again in July 1962. (Left)

Keller remained with the company when he sold to Maynard Feld in April 1959. For a time, the original dowel production remained, however, the fish boxes were long gone, and Feld grew the company. By November 1959, Feld was building. The city granted permission for an 18’ x 56’ addition to the plant. The addition on the north side of the building meant wood could be put in or removed from the dry kiln and left under cover until it went to or from the planer and the gang saw. From there, the wood went to rod machines and rip saws, with product ending up ready for shipment.

Feld continued with the accounts Keller had and expanded the company, getting into just about anything that was a dowel, from ¼” to 2”. What happened in the fall of 1959 made things interesting. Feld’s cousin’s husband, Jerry Waak, was a toy salesman for Aluminum Specialty Co. of Manitowoc. Waak traveled the world in search of new products and selling those AlSpeCo manufactured. The visionary Waak was always thinking and, in 1959, he was on the cusp of another idea. He was interested in aluminum artificial Christmas trees at a time when artificial trees were in their infancy. The timing was right. An entire generation had been through the Depression and World War ll and in the 1950s were throwing out the old and looking for modern. What was more modern than an aluminum Christmas tree?

Waak had the aluminum for branches, but not the trunks. When he approached Feld, it was with an idea for the Christmas tree trunks. Waak envisioned pieces of 12”- 15” with a hole in the center at each end of the dowel. He saw the tree being in pieces to streamline assembly and make storage a cinch. Since this was a first, there were no equipment sources for such drilling,. Feld and his brother LeRoy knew what they needed and if anybody could take their idea and build it, it was Johnny Beitling and his brother George. If there was something the Beitlings couldn’t figure out and do, they kept it well hidden.

Christmas tree trunks were dowels, and a good fit for the company. In years to come, the trunks stayed the same, but AlSpeCo offered trees in such colors as gold and pink, in addition to the standard silver. They offered revolving stands and spotlights. The aluminum trees were set up and taken down quickly. They eliminated the hundreds of long silver icicles that were so painstakingly and tediously hung on the ends of the evergreen tree branches. They eliminated the hours and hours spent taking off those icicles, carefully putting them around cardboard to save for the following year. After all, icicle packages cost at least 10 cents a package by 1950. A few shiny red balls were all one needed on the silver trees, thus saving needed time for the harried housewives who had joined the paid workforce in droves. A job, children and all the work a woman would have been doing had she not been in a paid position, ensured a niche in the marketplace for artificial trees.

Karl Kratz took over the plant in 1971 and a year or two later, Feld leased to John Lee and Eben DeClene, selling to DeClene in 1977. The machinery and employees were relocated to DeClene’s newly acquired Wood Industries Co. on Perry St., a company formed by Mahlon Dier for the manufacture of butter tubs and decorative wooden ware. The Industries’ 90’ x 115’ building was constructed in 1958, Algoma’s only industrial building permit that year, just as Keller’s permit was in November 1952.

The empty building at 80 S. Church St. began a new life in the later ‘70s when Jag Haegele bought it for use as his Living Lakes Expo. Haegele was a visionary and a man ahead of his time. His museum taught lakes’ history with a talking life-size model of a commercial fisherman, a talking fish and much, much more.

After the museum was closed, the building was eventually torn down. But Michigan St. remained.

Melvin Keller struck out in his efforts to close Michigan St. Feld tried too. In September 1960, William Stiller, Sr., spokesman for Northern Pallet Co., and Feld petitioned the council for abandonment of the street. Once again, the council wanted to study the matter. Feld was interested in purchasing the Pallet Co. for future expansion. If the road going no where was closed, Feld felt he could connect the buildings. As it was, the Pallet building was used by Algoma Foundry for storage. A month later, Alderman J.J. Jerabek said two property owners east of the Dowel Co. objected to closing of the street, fearing loss of access. Council’s suggestion was a temporary easement, subject to a 30-day notice by either party, to be negotiated. That would permit connecting the structures if there was no demand for Michigan St. east toward the lake. It never happened. If it had, the building’s history would have been far different. What was once Algoma Box and Dowel/Algoma Dowel Co. now offers parking between the Harbor Inn Motel and Smashed on the Rocks.

In Ahnapee’s early days, it was thought Michigan St. came off what is now Lakeview Dr., going down toward the lake but staying tucked into the bottom of the hill. Finding evidences of any street use in the old newspapers is difficult until September 1946 when J.C. Anderegg began construction on his 54 x 96 concrete block factory at 100-132 Michigan St., between the Ahnapee River and Church St. Mr. Anderegg died and the Michigan St. plant did not go forward.

Michigan St. remains and is the address for the residents of the condos on the north side of the Ahnapee River.

Note: Aluminum Specialty Co. became the world's largest manufacturer of aluminum Christmas trees, selling over 1 million.
Source: Algoma Record Herald and property abstracts. Photos and headline are from Algoma Record Herald. 

World War l News, the Newspapers and Algoma

Algoma Record Herald – a merger of two Algoma papers – was a new newspaper when it carried this article. The article pointed out that its edition would likely be late as employees refused to work. It was neither a work stoppage nor a strike. What came to be known as World War l was over.  It wasn’t only Algoma’s workforce that took time off: it happened around the country. It was newspapers that spread the news.

Known as the First World War, World War l, and the Great War, it began in Europe on July 28, 1914 and ended officially with the signing of the Armistice on November 11, 1918. Political turmoil ravaging Europe for years came to a head on June 28, 1914, a month earlier, before the war’s outbreak, in Sarajevo when Gavrilo Princip, a Bosnian Serb Yugoslav nationalist, assissaniated heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

In the end, 16 million  military personal and civilians died. Additionally, the war hastened the spread of Spanish Influenza, leading to the deaths of up to 100 million people world-wide. It also led to genocide. Following the Armistice, the remaining unresolved conflicts escalated, giving rise to the likes of Adolf Hitler and plunging the world into what became World War ll, a mere 20 years later.

While the U.S. didn’t get into the European war until 1917, Algoma residents – and those across Kewaunee County, the state and the nation – understood their former countrymen. Millions of German immigrants made up the largest immigrant group to the U.S. and to Algoma. Germans began arriving in what was then Wolf River within a year of Kewaunee County’s origin in 1852.

In the early days, some of the community’s early Yankees derided the Germans (and others) as ignorant foreigners, often treating the immigrants in a detrimental manner. After 50 years, the prejudice was disappearing in Algoma. But then came the war. 

While many felt the U.S. would get involved in the European War, Woodrow Wilson won the 1916 election with the slogan, "He kept us out of war." But, U.S. neutrality didn't last and Wilson declared war in April 1917. Serving as president from 1913-1921, it was Wilson who led the country through the war.

Although the country was remaining neutral, Major Gen. Leonard Wood told Congress, in November 1916, that war was coming and that the U.S. was utterly unprepared. He said the coast was vulnerable and that a force of 150,000 trained men could inflict incalculable damage before a U.S. army could be assembled to meet it. Algoma folks anxiously watched the papers, wondering when “the other shoe would drop.”

In early January 1916 the Record told readership that the European conflict put the U.S. in a trying period. It was said, in 1914, the European war was going to be over by Christmas. Then it was said it was going to be a struggle to the death. Although the U.S. was neutral, it came face-to-face with issues arising from the war, shipping, German U-boats and more. During late January 1916, the paper noted the need for preparedness for war, with all its horrors and human loss. The article continued calling attention to individual preparedness for old age and future welfare. Thrift was important and would be developed through a national thrift day.

Local papers* were full of war news. Little by little, the papers carried more about what folks should know. Men enlisted and others were drafted. The papers provided men with military options, and helped them sort out those options.

Papers informed residents about the Kewaunee County Council of Defense and its designation of wheatless Tuesdays and meatless Wednesdays. Residents were required to sign pledges to save food. Folks at home were told how they needed to do their part to aid the boys abroad in the military. Herbert Hoover, head of the U.S. Food Administration, said it was only fitting that mothers of men who fight the nation’s battles needed to enlist in such an essential service as saving food. Hoover said mothers want their sons to return when victory is achieved, and the mothers hasten that work by what they can do.

Just before war was declared, Carlton resident Ida Peterson shared a letter she received from a cousin serving in the Canadian army in France. Though the letter was censored, the soldier spoke of the disagreeable conditions of the trenches during the winter weather. Had it not been censored, the letter would have no doubt told of far more and “disagreeable” would have been a far more graphic word.

It was the papers that announced that all men between the ages of 18 and 45 were required to register for the draft. In July it was written that those who enlisted then would have the advantage of two or three months of training over those who were drafted. There were quotas. The paper pointed out that those selected by draft would have physical examinations and, after that, could not voluntarily enlist in the branch of their choice. Selected men were carefully questioned about whether they already had a physical examination or were notified to appear elsewhere. Such enlistment of a man after he was drafted amounted to fraudulent enlistment and penalties were prescribed by law. Names of those exempted, due to physical condition or hardship, were listed in the paper just as those who were  inducted.

In the world of 2018, law says all male U.S. citizens and male immigrants, whether documented or undocumented, residing in the United States, and 18-through 25, are required to register with Selective Service.

Little more than a week following the Declaration, Sturgeon Bay parties appealed to the men of Ahnapee for assistance in recruiting enough men to form a company of the National Guard. The first to sign the applications were Jerry Jerabek, Auggie Wasserbach, Gilbert Mounty, Frank Prokash, Carl Koutnik, George Fellows, Ernst Haucke, Leo Kohlbeck, Frank Lidral, Jr. and Fred Peronto.

The men met nightly at the city hall where W.E. Perry taught military tactics. Applications came in. It was expected the men would join the Sturgeon Bay company and Perry applied for a commission when the new company was formed. He was expected to receive it because of his several years in military schools.

It was the Navy that wanted men who did things well. Men with trades were in demand as they were “the first line of defense” in carrying the “Sammies” to France and beating the Kaiser’s submarines. Amateur wireless operators, machinists, cooks and bakers were wanted. Men with such experience were offered “splendid” enlistment conditions and were told they could go right to work with an introductory training. According to the advertising, the Navy paid the highest military wages, as much as 100 a month for an apprentice seaman. Uncle Sam paid board and lodging while giving an enlistee $50 worth of free clothing, thus the pay of one in the Navy is almost all clear profit.

Experienced marine engine machinists are eligible to enlist as 1^st Class, earning $66.50 a month with all living expenses and clothing free. Those of 2^nd Class proving their ability at sea were promoted. Master machinists were paid $83 a month if they had charge of the engine room.

When the Navy was calling for 20,000 apprentice seamen, Wisconsin’s quota was 800 men. Those enlisting in the Navy were paid $32.50 during their training period, and those who qualified and promoted to seamen 2^nd Class got $35.90. Those who were promoted to 1^st Class got $38.40. An added inducement was traveling and seeing the world.

Ernest Ponath was one who did that. A month following the declaration of war, Ernest left his job at the depot to become the first city man to join the Navy. Making news at the same time was Col. George Wing who passed the examination for a commissioned officer’s position at the Fort Sheridan training camp.

There was a place for high school graduates with a fair knowledge of electricity. They had the chance to attend the special Naval Radio School at Harvard. The men would make their meals in Harvard’s Memorial Hall and use the gymnasium as a dormitory. The four-month course covered military drills and technical and other subjects.

The Navy offered another opportunity for men who wanted to become cooks. By enlisting in the commissary staff of the Navy, men could learn the trade at some of New York’s biggest hotels and cafes. Although the Navy didn’t point it out, such training gave men prestigious employment contacts following the war.

Men who enlisted as cooks got $32.50 per month in addition to all expenses during training. Cooks who qualified for higher ratings received a corresponding higher pay. First class cooks got $60, 2^nd $52, 3^rd $41 and 4^th Class, $35. Cabin cooks got $55 while cabin stewards made $61. Higher ratings were open to the inexperienced who “make good,” as merit was always recognized. Touted as a means of learning a trade at government expense, it was a way to help oneself and the nation. All one had to do was see a postmaster, recruiting officer or write to the Milwaukee recruiting station.

Newspapers were the source of information for most. However, they also caused confusion. After men had been told they would need to enlist to serve in the branch of choice, they were told that after they were drafted and examined by a local board, they were free to enlist in the marines. That lasted until the Provost Marshall General telegraphed to say a drafted man could only serve in the marines with the written consent of the local board. The Provost asked newspapers to call attention and give the matter publicity because, in actuality, nothing changed. After being drafted by a local board, no registrant was eligible for voluntary enlistment in any branch of government service. Adding to the confusion was that the erroneous information came from the Marine Corps recruiting service itself! Movies spread the news in a more interesting way.

During the fall, in 1918, the War Department announced guidelines for mailing Christmas packages to Europe. The mailing would be extended to November 30 because several divisions of the Army in active combat areas were unable to distribute and dispatch the parcel labels until the last week of October.

The papers continued in the same vein. One hundred years later, younger generations would wonder how the world went on in a day that depended on mail, newspapers and word of mouth. And, as the children’s party game Pass It On, there was much erroneous information. In 2018, social media, text messaging and, to a lesser extent, email serve to provide information that also provides inaccuracies.

As Algoma's men enlisted or were drafted, The Herald and The Record became even more important. Telephones were making inroads, but it was print that made the difference.

*The Record and The Herald merged to become the Record Herald in 1918. The paper was owned by the Heidmann family until Harold Heidmann sold to Frank Wood in the 1980s.

Source: Algoma Record Herald. Article and ad from Algoma Record Herald. World War l poster taken by the blogger at a Missouri war museum.