Sunday, November 26, 2023

Foscoro: A Hamlet with "Issues"

This map of Foscoro comes from the 1876 Kewaunee County Plat Map of the Town of Ahnapee. Foscoro School, Joint District #1 of the Towns of Clay Banks and Ahnapee, is visible on the north side of Stony Creek along the Door-Kewaunee County line. The saw and gristmills are on the north side of the pier while the hotel is on Lot 2. Stony Creek is visible from the county line to Lake Michigan.

When a March 1871 Milwaukee News article was reprinted, in part, by Door County Advocate on April 13, 1871, it pointed to a Milwaukee News article found in Kewaunee Enterprise  which described the place then called Foscoro. Published before the great fire in October and others that preceded it that summer, the author said Foscoro’s founders – Messrs. Foster, Coe, and Rowe - planned a village they felt would become a mighty city. More than likely, by the time the place became that mighty city, there would have been a “push” to find out where the place really was.

Foscoro was never mighty and hardly even  big enough to be a hamlet. Small as it was, Foscoro had big city issues. “Issues” is an over-used word in the world of 2023, and if a municipality has issues, it is not a good thing. Foscoro was a hamlet with issues long before the word was in vogue.

Taking County Highway S north out of Algoma, turning east at County Highway U and following it until the sounds of waves calm the senses, peace announces one’s arrival at yesteryear’s Foscoro, now called Stony Creek. Following the Lake Michigan shoreline means there might be fog obscuring the small green highway sign and missing the sign might mean missing the once thriving pier community that, at times, didn’t know where it was either.

Located on the Kewaunee/Door County line, it took years before the hamlet knew which county it was truly in. Even its post offices went back and forth. Unusual was Foscoro School, otherwise known as Joint District No. 1 of the Towns of Ahnapee and Clay Banks. Or in Kewaunee and Door Counties.

While the place's location seemed to be a mystery, it was a growing pier community serving the timber industry. Early in 1879, Ahnepee's* Walter Youngs noted the progress of the new mill on Stony Creek in the northeastern part of the Town of Ahnepee. He told others about a creek rising in the Door County Town of Nasewaupee, flowing to Lake Michigan where the mill was at its mouth. Youngs felt a dam would keep water running at all times of the year.

A few months later -  May 1870 – the Kewaunee Enterprise mentioned Mr. George A. Rowe & Co.’s new sawmill at the mouth of Stony Creek. Timber was ready for the pier to be built as soon as practical after the mill was running. Rowe was also planning a grist mill and possibly a store. The Enterprise opined such improvements would be permanent and substantial, being a great benefit to the area. Other members of the firm were attorneys George W. Foster and Harvey L. Coe of Port Washington. Rowe was living in Ahnapee.

Competition came when Henry Geier erected his grist mill west on Stony Creek in the Town of Forestville in October 1875. Charles Fellows’ Foscoro feed mill had been the only gristmill on the lake route from Ahnapee to Sturgeon Bay.

By September 1876, Ahnapee Record described Foscoro, so at least somebody knew where it was. Readership was informed the area known as Foscoro was on Lot 2, Section 6, Town 25, Range 26 in the Town of Ahnapee, at the mouth of Stony Creek. At the time, it consisted of a new mill, bridge pier, store, 6 dwellings and 2 barns, all built 2 years earlier. Additionally, there was an 850’ pier with 11 feet of water at the end. The mill was run by waterpower with a 24’ head and, the Record opined, a small expense meant plenty of power all year. It’s Leffel wheel provided over 90 hp for two circular saws which had a capacity of 25,000 feet per day.

While the Record knew where Foscoro was, there were many who weren't sure. According to a November 1877 Record, Attorney Harvey L. Coe finished another survey of the hamlet, which most found satisfactory. However, it did not suit all. The paper claimed the survey was less expensive than others and that Coe tried to be impartial, suiting the needs of all. Coe was one of the men responsible for the heyday of Foscoro. Its name came from a combination of his name, his co-attorney George W. Foster and George A. Rowe. Coe and Foster also practiced law in Kewaunee.

Those outside the immediate area learned a little about Foscoro was in 1877 when both the Advocate and Record  reported a child-animal being born nearby. Determined to see for himself, the Record reporter said he peeled off the bark on all the trees along the Clay Banks road chasing a story he called “humbug” rather than using more unprintable words. A child was indeed born, but the child was born without an arm. What the outlandish story did was to promote an interest in peninsula geography.

How long did Foscoro last? In July 1877, the Enterprise referred to Harvey Coe as formerly of Foster, Coe, and Rowe of Foscoro. Things were changing. The name stuck for a while though by 1883 newspapers were using Stony/Stoney Creek and Foscoro interchangeably.

Just before Christmas 1877, the Advocate reported that Swaty & Son and Charles Fellows entered a partnership of dry goods and groceries and were ready to supply the whole country. The paper said the store was so crowded that the sides were bowing out. When the Record published on the following Halloween, it said Capt. Fellows improved about 4 miles of Stony Creek in compliance with Chapter 163 of the Laws of 1878, which “fixed” the creek for floating “wooden objects” from the backwoods down the creek. Fellows said the project was a great advantage to the farmers and others. Foscoro was coming into its own.

When Fellows applied for a post office in February 1878, he said the new office would serve 75-100 people. His application indicated Clay Banks' post office was 3 miles north, Forestville's was 6 miles west and Ahnapee's 6 miles south. If there were 100 folks at most to be served, the area was sparsely settled and for so people, where did all the issues come from?

Taken from the 1878 post office application

Crime in a place as small as Foscoro doesn’t sound possible, but it was. The area between the Clay Banks and Foscoro piers, near Foscoro school house, was finally going to be investigated according to the June 21, 1883, Record. “Foot pads” concealed in the bushes had stopped those on the road for years. When a gun was fired at Charles Hitt and the occupants of his wagon, the paper opined that the dark road was well-suited to the activities of foot pads which should be put where they could not molest others. The seat of Hitt’s wagon had broken as Hitt held his frightened horses while they attempted to run. Since passengers were sitting on the floor of the wagon, it is possible the highway man or men thought Mr. Hitt was alone.

Often, crimes begin in saloons. Some things never change. People enjoy having fun, and that doesn't change either. Mixing the two can result in disastrous consequences.

The Advocate seemed to know where Foscoro was in February 1875, when it mentioned that William L. Nelson had leased and taken possession of the Foscoro House. In May the Enterprise appeared to be chuckling, having reprinted an article from the Record when it spoke of a dance at the Foscoro hotel. Saying the landlord’s name was DeCanter and since the Foscoro Hotel was a public house, there was something familiar about the word decanter………

Just before Halloween 1877 the Record told readership about 14 canal laborers who were on their way to Chicago when they stopped at Hugh Ackers “ last Thursday and got pretty well set up.” A purse with money was lost and as the men arrived in Ahnapee on Friday, the loss culminated in a knock-down fight from the effects of too much “O be joyful.” One man was fined $7.50 while another rested in the lock-up overnight.

By late November 1878, folks knew where the place was when the Advocate reported the barroom shooting at Foscoro, right over the county line. A man was shot in a drunken brawl at Hugh Acker’s saloon.

The shooting got puzzling. While the Enterprise, Advocate and Record were somewhat in agreement about the sequence of events, the names of the participants and the outcomes were blurred. John Swenson was named as Swinson in the Record which lists Ben Owenson and Knud Ownes, reporting Knud Ownes as the man shot. The Advocate article cites John Swenson while reporting Knud Owenson was shot, however there is no mention Ownes.

Swenson, Ownes, and Owenson were unmarried fishermen living and working together in Clay Banks. They were on their way home from Ahnapee when they stopped at Acker’s. As one story goes, they were well fortified with liquor before they got to Acker’s.

Owenson was drunk and apparently having trouble speaking. The men had a drink or two and began playing cards. Then they began arguing about something in the past.

Ownes - who was said to be a “desperate character” when under the influence - pulled a large jack-knife from his pocket. He threatened Swenson who told him to sit down, Ownes got up and threatened again, and again Swenson told him to sit down, which he did. Then it happened again. The fourth time Ownes jumped up, he went around to Swenson, knife drawn. Standing about 3’ apart, Ownes became more threatening when Swenson drew his Smith & Wesson and fired, seeming to strike Owenson in the 7th rib. How was that determined in such states of intoxication?

As the November 29 Enterprise told the story, Ownes and Swenson met at Acker’s saloon and engaged in excessive drinking which brought on such conduct as “usually attends the immoderate use of intoxicating beverages.” It said that when they sat down to play cards, Ownes was quite loud although Swenson controlled his actions. Continuing,  the paper said Ownes stood at the saloon door with a knife. refusing to allow Swenson to leave. Swenson could no longer hold his temper and withdrew his revolver to shoot Ownes “down.”  

The Enterprise continued informing citizens that the shooting happened on Friday and on Monday Justice Yates issued an arrest warrant for Swenson and held him under bond of $1,000 for his appearance at the Circuit Court in April.

Meanwhile, on November 29th, the Expositor Independent said Swenson and Owenson (Ownes is not mentioned) were playing cards and drinking freely when they argued about the game. That article says when Owenson drew his knife, Swenson drew his revolver from his pocket and shot the former in the abdomen. The article went on to say Swenson “procured the ball” and was taking care of the man he shot. The paper did not think the injured man could recover. 

What happened next is hard to understand. Ownes was left lying on the floor when Swenson wanted more to drink and then fell asleep. What were Owenson and Acker doing?

In the morning Ownes was still on the floor when Swenson was sufficiently sobered to realize what happened. He sent for Dr. Perlewitz from Ahnapee who originally thought Ownes was in serious condition. The Enterprise says Dr. Parsons (not Perlewitz) was called to render all possible medical aid. Some felt that Ownes lost much blood from internal bleeding that recovery was doubtful. A day or so later, Perlewitz found the bullet was three inches lower in the abdomen than first thought, however, did not remove it. He felt Ownes would be well within a few weeks. Ownes, however, was worried about his friend Swenson and felt his (Ownes) actions were responsible for the shooting.

Swenson was arrested immediately and taken to Ahnapee where he was brought to Justice Yates, charged with shooting Knud Ownes, and bound over for the next Circuit Court. Swenson pled not guilty before being charged by Yates and said he acted with justification. He gave bail of $1,000 and was to appear at the April Circuit Court term. The trial for the shooting and killing - papers do not agree on this - Knud Owens was slated for November at Kewaunee. Folks felt if Owens died, Swenson would likely be held blameless as he acted in self-defense. He had to shoot Owens or be carved up by Owens' knife.

Hugh Acker and Ben Owenson were subpoenaed as witnesses which the April 25, 1879, Enterprise listed as the trial of the State of Wisconsin vs John Swenson. On May 1, the same paper said Swenson was “acquitted of shooting Knud Owens last November.”

Months before the trial, the November 28, 1878, Enterprise reported the bills turned in to the county Committee on Miscellaneous Accounts which paid Justice J.L.V. Yates $5.31 for fees and the inquest for Knud Ownes. “Inquest” suggests Ownes died. However, Ownes was still living when the Advocate and Expositor Independent published after that date. That seems to indicate the inquest involved the shooting and no death. The Advocate of May 1, 1879, noted John Swenson’s trial for shooting and killing of Knut Owenson in November was about to start.

Some say the Ownes was the victim of Door County’s first murder, but it happened in Kewaunee County.

Foscoro never had a church and whiskey might have been the reason. Tanum Lutheran Church at Vignes is the only church in Clay Banks and would have been close enough for Foscoro residents. At one point, Seventh Day Adventists were hauling stone to build near Salona, but nothing happened. The Catholics also planned for a church and arranged a raising bee. On the scheduled workday the men went into the woods in a Norwegian area. The builders brought so much beer and whiskey that the Norwegians felt the logs were going to be floated. By the time they ran out of alcohol, the men couldn’t do much more and the church never materialized. Recorded history says that the large Norwegian population organized their church in 1872, and until the church was built, services were held in Charles Hitt’s dining room and saloon. Proximity of spirits doubtless meant the service was far too long for some.

It wasn’t liquor that caused the problem in July 1877 – it was pop that was stolen from Foscoro House. The pop was manufactured in Ahnapee by Magnus Haucke and his father-in-law Henry Baumann. Theirs was the first such manufactory on the peninsula. Ironic is that product often went north on McDonald’s Whiskey Pete. Perhaps the robbers felt saloons only carried liquor, or perhaps they felt Whiskey Pete was worthy of its namesake.

One William Flaherty was hitting the sauce during November 1877, a year before the Ownes shooting. He didn't spend his money at the Foscoro saloon though. Flaherty was on his way from Kewaunee to Stony Creek,** having freely "indulged in the cup." Reaching Ahnapee, he hired a horse, buckboard, and services of Fred Dammon. Getting cold, Flaherty was searching for his mittens while commanding Dammon to stop. He did not. Issuing the command a third time, Mr. Dammon began thinking Flaherty was hunting for his revolver and, in fright, jumped off the buckboard, hiding in the dark. Meanwhile the inebriated Flaherty  had the horse in the dark while Dammon had to walk through the dark and mud back to Ahnapee. The horse was returned the next day.

In January 1878, Sturgeon Bay Advocate withheld the name of a man who wanted to go to a ball in Foscoro. The unnamed borrowed the buckboard of one man, thills of another, and the horse of a third, and rigged a harness with pieces of rope and bits of strap. Then he found three girls and his one-eyed, bobtail dog. Pleasure, happiness, fun, defeat, and humiliation came next. He had too much benzine (which was sniffed to get high), and then wagged his tongue too much. If anybody knew how he lost his pants, the Advocate wasn’t telling. For a man with three young women on his arm, it was worse was when some other fellow took the girls home. Not even the dog stayed with him. As the Advocate said, he was trying to get through a knot hole to avoid being seen. Who would the Advocate not name?

Two months later, the Advocate might have told a different story, when it pointed out, tongue-in-cheek, the roads between Ahnapee and Foscoro were in “wonderful condition” with the mud being only 2’ deep. Was it the mud or something else that happened when the Record told readership in April that the telegraph line between Clay Banks and Foscoro broke in 2 or 3 places and wire was lying on the road. Poles were also down and on the ground, but there were those, including the Record, who wondered whose business was it to rebuilt it? Was the location of Foscoro still a mystery in 1878? Finally, two years later, in late April 1880, the Record said the telegraph office was re-established at Foscoro. Henry Overbeck at Ahnapee was the operator.

Foscoro School has been forgotten by following generations and is not included in the list of Kewaunee County schools. The school has provided its own stories.

According to the July 16, 1914, Record, a portion of the Towns of Clay Banks and Ahnapee was organized into a joint school district in 1874. Until February 1875 when the Enterprise reported that Foscoro schoolhouse had a fire, the school didn’t generate news. The fire was due to a damaged flue and damage was slight, however flames were difficult to extinguish. That paper reported in May 1878 that C.B. Post of Foscoro had the contract for a new 26’ x 36’ district schoolhouse, so perhaps the damage was more substantial than thought.

In February 1879, Foscoro school, with teacher Susie Seymour, closed because of diphtheria and other sickness. Fifteen months later, the Record said Foscoro school closed due to the illness of teacher Addie Morey.

An August 1885 Advocate told readers Jessie Dreutzer was engaged to teach at Foscoro School for the fall and winter seasons which began on October 1. Florence Barrand was engaged as the teacher for Foscoro school in Joint District 1# said a late July 1888 Record. The eight-month term began on the first Monday of September. In earlier years there were winter and summer terms such as on April 27, 1882, when the Record said Foscoro school district would begin the summer term on Monday. On November 22, 1883, Miss Olive Foster began teaching the winter term at the school.

The Advocate thanked Clay Banks Town Clerk Nelson who presented the statement of taxation in the town’s school districts in January 1883. Joint District #1, Clay Banks and Ahnapee, was $2.03 on $100 valuation. District #1 was the least at $1.88 on $100 while District #2 was $2.93 on $100 valuation, which is a significant difference within the three districts.

It seems as if the joint district had so many teachers and sometimes two a year. Then in July 1892, the Advocate reported that Joint District #1 elected Foscoro resident Robert Johnson as clerk in place of Lars Knudson and engaged Clara Acker as the teacher. Clara was teaching during the winter term when the Christmas edition of the Record noted that she spent the holidays with her parents.

It seemed strange in January 1895 when the Advocate reported that Robert Johnson, L.J. Fellows and Henry Awe, the board members of Joint District #1 of Clay Banks and Ahnapee, had a treasury balance of $7.88. They did not vote funds for the following school year. They also voted that there would be no school held in the district for the ensuring term. The previous teacher was paid, on average, $28 per month. Why would there be no school? Was the District dealing with so much that board members just gave up?

About 6 weeks before the end of her contract, teacher Lizzie Madoche was discharged for alleged inability to maintain order and discipline. Clara Acker who served as teacher in 1892 was hired in Lizzie’s place, and it was Clara who was called as a witness when Lizzie sued for lost wages for the balance of the term. On August 2, the case came before Justice Dehos who ruled in favor of Madoche.

The District was back in court a few months later in November when on a Tuesday morning Judge Masse was hearing testimony in the action brought against Joint District #1, Robert Johnson, and Louis J. Fellows, two of the district officers. Some taxpayers petitioned for their removal. Among charges was neglecting to call a special meeting when legally requested to do so. It came about for “wrongfully and illegally discharging Miss Eliza Madosch (sic), a former teacher in the district.” That action involved the district in litigation resulting taxpayers “entailing thereof in heavy loss.” Y. V. Dreutzer represented the people while Johnson and Fellows handled their own affairs. After the hearing, an adjournment was taken for six days.

When Judge Masse opened court that Monday morning in December 1895, he dismissed the case against the school board members, saying he had no jurisdiction. It was shown that since only 17 of the 59 district electors signed the petition, prosecution evidence was weak. Johnson and Fellows claimed that the litigation to oust them came from a few malcontents in a scheme to break up the district. It was said the malcontents resided in another district but owned land in the Joint District. Since the whiners did not have children to send to school, they felt they should not have to pay taxes for educational purposes.

Though history suggests Foscoro School closed, it didn’t. In January 1898, the Advocate  told readers there was a change of teachers when Miss Samuelson decided to take charge of the one pupil school. The paper said she was an “earnest worker” and the best wishes of her “patrons” went with her.

In early September 1898, the  Record said Joint District #1 schoolhouse burned about 10 PM on Friday night in a fire of undetermined origin. The building remained property of Joint District #1, which was dissolved during the winter. The building was a total loss as there was no insurance on it or its contents. The question was, what caused the fire? The building was not open. The heating stove was not in use. There was no lightning. There was no reason for the fire.

The Advocate announced, in early March 1899, the construction of a new schoolhouse for Clay Banks’ first district located in the Vignes neighborhood. Vignes was the center of the district when Joint District #1 was consolidated with Clay Banks #1. Foscoro children went to Lakeview School.

The mill was gone, the school district was near its end, and the post office closed in 1900 due to lack of patronage. The post office would have been closed within the next few years as R.F.D. came into being in 1904. Foscoro slipped into the past.

When the Record chronicled  Issac Orell’s purchase of 40 acres from Mr. Fellows in May 1878, it mentioned that the land had a beautiful little lake of about 1 acre, the banks of which, when cleared, would be one of the finest building places in the county. The fire of 1871 was by then regarded as an advantage as the destruction of timber cleared land for farming.

The disappearance of the incredible beauty of Stony Creek was reproduced by the Advocate in April 1871 from an article appearing in the Enterprise saying that at Stony Creek, the site of the pier, was “invested with the halo of romance by Jeannie who writes for the Milwaukee News.” Jeannie said about ¼ mile north of the village plat the high bluff at the Lake recedes about 40-50 rods, turning into a gentle hill extending southeasterly about the same difference from the Lake and then back to the shore. Jeannie felt “within this amphitheater is the future, the sweetest village that the waves of Lake Michigan shall kiss.” She said the ground “descended softly to the lake” and water flowed in a way that she felt it was “the home of fairies.”

Amphitheater was the word used describing the” stream of rocks” from the creek to the lake when Rowe, Coe and Foster built the large sawmill, destroying the beautiful cedars and other trees suggesting monuments of a by-gone era into a place devoid of beauty or sense of poetry.

It was written in 1883 that, “Only a short distance from the mill, and connected with it by a wooden railroad, is a pier run out into the lake a thousand feet. How it mars the beauty of this fair nook! It is as some beautiful girl, with a mouth to excite an irresistible desire for a kiss, should all at once run out a tongue like an anteater.” By then Lake Michigan mariners failed to see the fairies but did see a dwelling-place of demons. Just outside of Foscoro lies a shoal which has been the cause of multiple shipwrecks.

It was also written that a brief time ago, Foscoro was the loveliest village on Lake Michigan, however “the loveliness of the place departed” causing one’s heart to swell with such grief that the penman “had to weep.”

- - - - - - 

*What became Algoma in 1897 was called Ahnepee until 1873 when the spelling changed to Ahnapee.

**Foscoro is now called Stony/Stoney Creek,

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald, Door County Advocate, Door County Expositor, Kewaunee Enterprise; 1876 Kewaunee County Plat Book; Here Comes the Mail: Post Offices of Kewaunee County http://genealogytrails.com>history1917_chapter47; https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC5RZMT 


Saturday, November 11, 2023

Lest We Forget: Veterans’ Day 2023


Nineteen years ago, on Saturday November 11, eight or nine veterans working on a Green Bay Yacht Club project decided to have an impromptu flag raising and observance. The day mushroomed to what it is today feting hundreds of veterans from as far away as the U.P. Nineteen years ago there were those who served in World War ll. In today’s throng there was one. There were Korean vets, but not many. Most were Vietnam and the post-Nam men and women. The older folks didn’t escape their country’s call; they had little choice when they were drafted. Those serving in the last 50 years, when the draft ended, were volunteers and served because they did have a choice.

As the master of ceremonies eloquently pointed out, joining the military is giving the country a blank check for one’s life. It means acceptance of any duty at any location while knowing the blank check might be paid with death. Veterans date to the beginning of this country, and the millions of vets deserve far more than a trite “Thank you for your service” on this day while they are forgotten every other day. The Greatest Generation is passing away before us while those who served in the Vietnam era are still getting kicked in the teeth. Many who never served, and laughed at those who did, think it is just a job. But they really don’t think. How many were maimed for life? How many have Agent Orange blood borne diseases and other cancers? How many have lost arms, legs and eyes, or the ability to have children? How many have PTSD and deal with mental illness, or have such emotional issues that close relationships are all but impossible. Then there is homelessness. All is paid by that blank check.

While others begin careers, buy homes, and take cruises, the young people who were drafted and now volunteering put their lives on hold. Whether the men and women had/have stateside duties or were on foreign soil, lives were on hold. Speaker Lt. Col. Pruitt talked about a Marine standing on a wall when he was asked why he was standing there. The Marine replied that he was there so we could sleep without fear as evil wouldn’t strike while he was watching. Pruitt mentioned George Washington serving for 8 ½ years and in that time only spending 3 or so days at his home, Mt. Vernon. In the 200 years plus between George Washington and the Marine, much has changed, but service men and women have always been there keeping us safe.

Although President Calvin Coolidge was a man of few words, he had much to say on November 11, 1928, in a speech marking the 10th anniversary of the Armistice. The address paid tribute to those who served and sacrificed in a time of war while he also discussed the cost of war to a people and a country.

Coolidge said, “Our first thought, then, is to acknowledge the obligation which the nation owes to those who served in our forces afloat and ashore………the place of honor will always be accorded to the men and the women who wore the uniform of our country – the living and the dead.”

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Kewaunee County: It's Not Your Grandpa's Halloween

Halloween, witches, ghosts, and skeletons go together. But not all the time. While Kewaunee County history does not appear to support witches, there are stories of ghosts and the paranormal. Over the years, numerous skeletons have been found. Some were said to be Indian, and likely Potawatomie who inhabited the area before relocating, or being driven out. Some skeletons are felt to be those who were hastily buried in outbreaks of cholera and diphtheria. Others are mysteries.

One of those mysteries was reported in April 1906 when, on April 5, William Schmidt’s Town of Pierce barn was burned to the ground, but not much attention was paid to it. At first. As workmen cleared away debris, they found a male skeleton in the ruins. It was supposed the skeleton was that of a young man who had been released from the Green Bay reformatory. He was seen in Algoma the day prior to the fire and he was noticed him going south. It was supposed that tramps in the area were responsible for the fire and for the death of the man who was known to have money when he was in Algoma. Money was an incentive for such a crime and although County District Attorney ordered an inquest, it was not held.

Algoma’s Ben Boettcher brought the charred skull to Dr. Rice who said the remains were definitely human. Searching for further evidence, Boettcher and Mr. Schmidt found the rims of spectacles and some pant buttons.

Some felt the unknown man accidentally set fire to the barn in which he sought shelter and was unable to escape. Others felt it was the tramps prowling the area. Who knew?

Other skeletons were not the bones of John Brown, but rather those of Indian people from year earlier.

While street commissioner Marr and his crew were taking gravel from the city gravel pit in October 1904, they found numerous skeletons. Citizens brought lights and dug, finding what they felt were the remains of 7 people. Being in such poor state that they could not be removed, they were left undisturbed. Older folks believed that there was an old Indian burial ground in the vicinity and it was expected more skeletons would be unearthed.

As Louis Fellows was excavating a basement under his Fremont St. home in October 1926, he found human bones that were thought to be from the days the area was populated by Indians.

Men excavating at the Two Rivers Hamilton plant in April 1927 unearthed a rough box holding the skeleton of a man. Old settlers believed the man might have been a victim of cholera which was prevelent in the early 1850s. It was known that during the epidemic, bodies were buried in the area of the city where the box was found.

In January 1928, a skeleton was dug up at the north end of the government yards in Kewaunee. It was noticed as a skull protruded from a portion of an excavation which was caving in. Digging indicated the skeleton was in an upright position and was not dug up for fear of disturbing the remains. Being Indian bones, it was felt they were Potawatomie who had inhabited the area. History suggests the man might have died during an Indian battle known to have taken place on the site.

Finding a skeleton in the gravel shore near Two Creeks in June 1933 led to hopes that the disappearance of a Two Creeks man a year earlier would be solved. After investigation, the mystery remained when it was determined the skeleton was of that of an Indian felt to be buried in the sand for scores of years.

The same paper carried an article about a skeleton found at Frank Husnik’s gravel pit east of Ellisville although old settlers could not remember burials in the area. The body appeared to be buried without any protective clothing and was only a foot below the soil. Clarence Robillard took the skull and parts of the skeleton to Kewaunee for examination. The shape of the skull led to the belief that the person could have been an early type of human. After the bones were displayed at the Enterprise office, they were sent to a museum for analysis.

A few of the skeletons were found in October. Had there been more, it would have added to Halloween in Kewaunee County where much changed over 150 years.

Things were unusual in 1889 when Ahnapee girls devoted their time to playing practical jokes that did not cause harm, thus casting caution to the wind on the night when the Record said maidens walked downstairs backward with a mirror in front of them, or walked barefoot around the block while carrying a cabbage stalk. Say what? Folklore says that’s how one discovered the identity of a future husband. First it was seeing the man in the mirror and then face-to-face. Halloween seemed to be an unusual time to foretell a husband, but perhaps it was black magic.

Ten years later the Enterprise told readership to take care of  gates because the following Monday was Halloween, the evening when the boys turn everything upside down. Apparently the news was out that they were already making plans for their raids.

In 1899 Mrs. August Boedecker entertained the ladies in the parlors of Algoma Hotel on Halloween. The women enjoyed cards and games and sampled refreshments served on a table decorated in an "odd manner" and set in the sign of the cross. Guests were served by waiters dressed as ghosts. Most of the guests were married, but at least 2 of the 3 single women were teachers. Did they come as spinsters? The parlor mentioned was most certainly the “ladies parlor” where women could order whiskey or such beverages to enjoy with their cigars. It was a room for ladies only.

An Illinois appellate court had an impact on Halloween 1901 when it ruled that “the citizen is entitled to protection at the hands of the city.” The court ruled following the destruction of $900 worth of coal at Spring Valley in 1900. Taxpayer money was to be used for more stringent police surveillance on Halloween as damage or destruction caused by “Halloween hoodlums” would be paid for by government. In 2023 dollars, the coal would be worth about $34,000.

Nobody in Kewaunee forgot Halloween in 1903 as throughout the city young folks held “high revel” with the residential area experiencing most of it. Most pranks were harmless although the Enterprise there were many which should be punished. Even though extra police were out, they could not keep up with those who were out for “sport.”

Halloween – the night most dreaded by property owners - passed in such a manner in 1910 that the Record hoped the future would bring such occasions. Whether it was extra police or a lack of interest, Algoma was relatively unscathed. Soaped windows were the worst of it and although some sewer pipes were stung over sidewalks, nothing was vicious. Devilishness was always worst at the school, but, the Record with the swinging of the cop’s Billy club, the place looked like a Quaker meeting house. The city breathed a sigh of relief. 

But Kewaunee was not quite so lucky. The Record told readership that Kewaunee area resident Frank Peroutky was not forgotten when he was awakened by gunshots and ringing bells near his door. Lewis Johnstone didn't have much trouble as he was running for assembly and out being seen and pressing the flesh at the party at Schmitz’ hall.

Casco was looking at legal action in 1919 after a mob of about 75 men and boys almost turned the village upside down. They weren’t content with soaping windows, ringing bells, and destroying gates, but, the paper said, they overturned all small buildings in town, threw stones through windows and insulted townsfolk who attempted to stop the destruction. The worst of the vandalism was the burning of George King’s corn crop. The fire was put out, however the stacks and cobs were in such bad shape, they were useless for feeding. The paper admonished residents and said it was time for parents to watch their boys because if a boy was not home in the evening, what was he up to? What about the men?

Things changed in 1927 when Opera House manager, Charles Schneider, announced a free movie for Kewaunee children in an attempt to keep kids from the vandalism and lawlessness of previous Halloweens. Schneider said the children would be highly entertained, and asked parents to have their children at home immediately after. Both business and civic organizations worked together to provide an entertaining evening that did not include criminal activity.

Where once Halloween was a festival of the saints, the day became one that was lawless, destructive, and filled with crime. When the Kewaunee school system said it had a duty to train good citizens and promote a “sane” Halloween, it said all organizations could be of assistance. The school planned to have teachers emphasize the source of school monies, the good will of the community, respect for property and more.

During the 1930s, Kewaunee Postmaster Wright got to the office the day after Halloween and stopped dead in his tracks. Recent Halloweens had lent a false sense of security so when Wright looked up expecting to see a fluttering flag, he saw an old-fashioned chamber pot – a “pot de chambre” or “mug de toilette” in the place of Old Glory.

The Enterprise felt such sacrilege had to be a first in the U.S.  Chamber pots were like kids – neither to be seen nor heard – but there it was at the corner of Ellis and Main St. for all to see. The paper reported that Wright let out a roar that Uncle Sam, the Army, and the FBI would be called to find the guilty. He said nobody could “pull a potty” and get away with it. He was about to call the Coast Guard and the police when George Flaherty came into view.

In 1935, the Enterprise editor was waxing nostalgic with tongue-in-cheek when he said gone were the days when Trottman’s dray wagons could no longer put on residential porches, and there were no swinging gates with removable hinges that were easily removed. There were no wooden sidewalks pulled up and dumped on someone’s doorstep. And when horses disappeared from the scene, the horseshoe nails couldn’t be used to trick the innocent. Indoor bathrooms meant the one family two-holers were not places of dread on November 1.

J.H. Kampo, Enterprise manager, said there was no appeal for the days of yore when citizens spent two weeks in November trying to locate their chickens. No doubt the paper’s musings prompted the devious to plan future Halloweens. Citizens not only lost chickens, but their iron lawn deer and clotheslines also disappeared. One year, a 200’ rope was attached to the Congregational church bell and then the rope was pulled down the lake bank. The bell was rung by “remote control.” After the church was relocated, the bell ringing became a non-issue because the church no longer had a bell. Back in the day, culprits kept Chief of Police Orin Warner downtown while their “associates” climbed into the school belfry to ring out freedom across town.

The Enterprise saw Halloween as a national holiday and a national disaster which had gone away. The paper felt soap manufacturers and mask makers “so defiled the true pioneering spirit of American youth” that even a carved pumpkin has (in 1935) become obsolete. The paper went on to say that the old-fashioned Halloween was gone, and “we mourn its passing with cheers.”

By 1938, the Enterprise said the art of Halloweening was on the decline due to police presence and community parties that kept the young entertained. The Enterprise opined even the passing of the old three-holers changed things. Still, citizens remained nervous. remembering the days when boys put one of Butch Trottman’s wagons on top the light house at the end of the government pier. The prank kept government engineers busy for weeks wondering how it could have possibly been accomplished without a derrick. Then too, there was no commotion that would have brought attention.

Kewaunee’s Fine Arts Club enjoyed a hard time party in the school gym in 1944, playing games such as pin the tail on the black cat. The gym was decorated with pumpkins, corn stalks and more while Jane Swoboda pulled fortunes from an iron kettle hung over glowing embers. As guests were led through the chamber of horrors, they came upon the remains of Ichabod Crane while hearing the clanking of chains and groaning and moaning of ghosts. Doughnuts and coffee were served during the evening that ended with dancing games and music provided by such musicians as Earl Shane, Gordon Thoreson and more.

Who’d prank the police chief on Halloween? In 1945, somebody got Chief John Lischka when all 5 tires on his vehicle were punctured in Kewaunee. If the guilty was ever caught, he surely got the proverbial book thrown at him. Not good to go after a police chief.

When a “For Sale” sign on the courthouse in 1959 caused a little head-scratching, it turned out to be a Halloween prank that was far more mild than 50 years earlier. Schools also sported such signs.

Kodan’s history of Halloween mayhem is legendary, and the school was targeted in 1960 too, but it wasn’t the outhouse that was tipped that year. After the board played its own prank years earlier, out-house moving became a thing of the past!

School was cold when teacher Ruth Draves arrived that 1960 day. When she checked, she found the copper tubing on the fuel tank hanging below the spigot. Whether it was a  Halloween prank or whether somebody drained the oil was not immediately determined. Whoever did it pinched the cut end so that not all oil would drain. They also turned off the spigot. The school board and Sheriff Legois were called. When the kids got to school dressed in costume, they were not deprived of their party as Mrs. Draves rounded up enough electric heaters to keep the kids warm until the tubing was replaced.

For over 100 years there were pranks – many vicious. Then came trick or treating. Northeastern Wisconsin was tricked in 2023, but not by celebrating kids. It was the weather. Some areas only got an inch of snow, but those tricked the most got 4” of the white stuff. Kids wore warm clothing over costumes they planned for weeks. When kids knocked saying, “Trick or Treat,” it was Mrs. Santa greeting them with a “Merry Christmas.”


Sources: Kewaunee County newspapers