Kewaunee County and the Kermis

Fall is the time of year for Kermis. And just what is Kermis? Wikipedia says the word is a Dutch language term derived from "kerk" (church) and "mis" (mass) that became borrowed in English and French. In generations past it was a three day harvest festival, a time to give thanks in a festive celebration.  Usually beginning around Labor Day and ending in late October, Belgian communities took turns hosting the event. Kermis remains, spreading to non-Belgian communities, however the events aren’t the same.

When in 1883 the Advocate wrote about Kermis, it told readership about the “sociable” Belgian event that ran for three days and three nights. In 1902 the same paper said the experiences of Door and Kewaunee Counties were not unlike those “in vogue” in the old country. Only the most necessary work was performed on the three days of the festival. The Advocate told of the celebration at Frank Pierre’s Brussels’ establishment, damped by three days of inclement weather. Fortunately Pierre’s hotel/hall was large enough to accommodate all, thus ensuring that the three day festival marked a fine occasion instead of a bust.

Rubens at Rosiere, early 1900s

History tells us Father Edward Daems had a hand in the first U.S. Kermis celebrated at Rosiere in 1858. While Kermis was celebrated as a joyous feast in their Belgian homeland, the Belgian settlers had been working to build a new life, encountering hardships that are incomprehensible by the standards of 2016, or even 1900, nearly 50 years after their arrival. But as hard as life was, there was much for which to give thanks, and so began the time-honored tradition in Door and Kewaunee Counties. In the old days Kermis included a mass of thanksgiving. Kermis included food, dancing and plenty of homemade beer. What would Kermis be without Belgian pie and beer?

In a day before home freezers, preparations for Kermis meant groups of women gathered at various homes making dozens of Belgian pies to offer visitors who were sure to come. Chickens were slaughtered to make copious amounts of real chicken booyah, not the stuff passed off by other groups today. Kermis-goers went from house to house, socializing and enjoying a cup of coffee and Belgian pie, no doubt beer or perhaps a whiskey or brandy, and maybe sitting down at the table for a savory dinner or supper, the meals of the day.

As late as the 1950s and early 1960s, one passing a rural home with countless cars parked in the barnyard knew it meant the home’s residents expected more than the family. Some passers-by stopped even though there was no invitation. On a cooler day, more than likely the dining room would be filled with men playing cards as women scrambled around the kitchen serving mounds food and washing piles of dishes only to reset the table for still more people. Kids played baseball while older teens tried to get the car to visit another home, or perhaps an area country bar, and have a beer. It was the days of 18 year old beer bars in Wisconsin, but few minded if 17 year olds stopped.

Area teens enjoyed Forestville and Rosiere Kermises, two of the places with Sunday afternoon dances. Forestville had a teenage bar in the basement of the Legion Hall. The same teens sneaked into Harry’s at Rosiere while keeping an eye on the back door, just in case somebody said the feds were around checking IDs, IDs that were gotten from the county Register of Deeds the minute the office opened on one’s 18^th birthday. In the early days of Kermis events at area saloons, it was not considered proper for a woman to enter, but enjoy the brew the women did when the men brought glasses outside where they were waiting. Children were not left out. As late as the 1950s Rosiere had a small Ferris wheel and other things for children.

For 75 years Kermis seemed to be associated with only the Belgian parts of Kewaunee County. Then other areas began the celebrations. In August 1935 it was announced that Algoma Dug-Out would be the scene of an annual Kermis, an event advertising dance bands, boat rides, and games for both adults and children. Belgian pie was advertised as free to those who ate lunch at the Dug-Out. The event was a success with 1,491 tickets sold. A packed dance floor in the evening, and afternoon and early evening Beano, a card game, were most popular. Algoma’s first city Kermis was celebrated in 1964 while Casco’s, which began at least a generation earlier, even had Kermis parades. Kewaunee County Homemakers began having a Kermis as did other groups. Kermis became a fall festival celebration that attracted folks who didn’t have Belgian ancestry. Or, as Elmer put it, “the Belgians and those who wish they were.”

Mrs. Rubens, Milwaukee Journal
 Rotogravure October 1937

Outside of Kewaunee and Door Counties, Rosiere was a little known hamlet, however both the hamlet and its annual Kermis gained state-wide attention in 1937 when Rosiere’s Louis Rubens was interviewed by the Milwaukee Journal. The two-page spread in the Journal’s Rotogravure contained 19 pictures of people and events. One picture showed Milton Herlache at work in his field while another was of Marcellis Gilson playing his baritone. Mrs. Herman Neinas was photoed wearing her grandmother’s Kermis dress, a dress that was 50 years old. Mrs. Rubens, left, was shown baking her delectable Belgian pies and women named Delforge, Piette, DeJardin, LeRoy and Massart were photographed dancing. The last photograph was of the school where fully ¼ of the children were missing the day after Kermis! Families might have been exhausted by all the events but they had work to catch up on.

Appleton Post Crescent on August 25, 1963 carried an article about the first Belgian Kermis to be held at Green Bay from August 31 to September 2. As in the old days, it was a three day festival. Green Bay's showcased all things Belgian plus speeches, concerts and sporting events held throughout the city. Additionally it included a national Kermis 50 mile bike race that sent participants through the Belgian communities of Brown, Door and Kewaunee Counties. The article pointed out that the Green Bay Kermis would be bigger than any of the festivals previously held in the U.S.  

August 1922 Record Herald

During a 2002 interview Millie Rabas spoke about Mary Mach, her Bohemian  immigrant grandmother. Mrs. Mach assisted with Kermis cooking at Jirovetz' tavern in Stangelville, a predominantly Bohemian community. An online search indicates Kermis is celebrated in the Czech Republic in what was once East Bohemia, a celebration that was held on to by Kewaunee County Bohemians. A 1935 Record Herald carried an article about the 70th annual "Pout" or "Kermis" to be held at Stangelville on St. Lawrence Day, August 11. The paper described the event as a "homecoming" in celebration of the church and village organized 70 years earlier.

Kermis has changed in the nearly 160 years since Father Daems prompted a celebration of thanks with a "church mass." Although life was difficult, the early Belgian people offered their thanks for what they had.

Sources: Ahnapee Record/Algoma Record Herald; Door County Advocate; Milwaukee Journal;; Here Comes the Mail: Post Offices of Kewaunee County; Yours Truly, from Kewaunee County (both available at Algoma Chamber of Commerce); Rabas’ 2002 interview by V. Johnson, H. Nell and K. Wolske; Wikipedia; postcard from blogger’s collection.

Kewaunee County's First Presidential Election: 1852

Franklin Pierce never made Mt. Rushmore and today few know much about the obscure president. What sets him apart in the annals of Kewaunee County is that he won the presidential election of 1852, taking the county which was little more than 6 months old that November. Pierce, the “dark horse” Democrat, trounced his opponent war hero General Winfield Scott, running as a Whig, by a vote of 23-5.

Though, even then, few had heard of Pierce, well known Democrats such as Stephen A. Douglas and James Buchanan (who eventually became presidents) were strongly opposed by one faction or another. As unknown as Pierce was, his reputation did not precede him. The man who was a fine speaker - and reported to be quite handsome - won the nomination on the 48^th ballot. By then the Democrats had to be tired enough to just want to get it over with, however it took 53 ballots to nominate Scott who was very well known. The popular Scott ran a poor campaign and the rest is history.

In a day lacking electronic media, there was as much mudslinging and trashy talk as there is today, 162 years later. History tells us that it was an election Scott lost more than Pierce - the youngest candidate to that date - won. History also tells us that one newspaper called it the most "ludicrous, ridiculous, and uninteresting presidential campaign" ever. Both sides danced around the questions of slavery, apparently managing to stay away from the country’s leading issue. The Whigs accused Pierce of being a coward during the Mexican-American War and further said he was a drunk. The Democrats also crowed about cowardice as Scott had once refused to duel with President Andrew Jackson. The party tried frightening the electorate saying that Scott would be a military dictator.

Pierce was a president distracted. His brothers were killed in an accident and his son died. His wife Jane was unable to cope. The White House was a cold cheerless place and the country seemed ready for James Buchanan, a man running in the second presidential election in which the men of Kewaunee County voted. Democrat Buchanan, called Old Buck, was thought to be the man who could save the Union, which was in danger of being blown apart by slavery. Old Buck attempted runs in the three elections prior to 1846. His opponent that year was John C. Fremont, then a senator, but a military hero of the Mexican-American War. The United States was sharply divided. The Enterprise was only a few months old in the fall of 1859 when it encouraged immigrants to file their "first papers" so they could vote.

Perspectives on slavery brought doom to the political life of both Buchanan and Stephen Douglas. The Democratic Party fell apart, giving rise to the backwoods, upstart, unknown Abraham Lincoln. The Whigs also disintegrated, giving rise to both the Republican and the American parties. Though many have relished the job, the presidency has been called the loneliest job in the world. Franklin Roosevelt didn’t want to leave though others had no choice and were voted out. Until FDR, presidents followed George Washington’s example of serving two terms.

Buchannan’s campaign was heated, however the Democrats operated with a slogan that cried “Anybody But Pierce.” Millard Fillmore, another little remembered president, was running a third party campaign for the American Party, far better remembered as the Know-Nothing Party. The Know-Nothings ignored slavery and ran on anti-immigration. Surprisingly, the party did receive about 20% of the vote.

The election of 1860 was Kewaunee County’s third presidential election and again tempers flared. A May 1860 Enterprise contained a reprint from the Green Bay Advocate saying Abraham Lincoln's nomination astonished everyone at the Chicago convention, even the party’s. Editorializing, the Enterprise wrote that the nomination was a wet blanket on Republican hopes and felt within a day's drive, twenty Wisconsin farmers could be found who were equal to Lincoln.

Lines were drawn between Kewaunee County Democrats and Republicans before the 1860 election, but it was said those lines were shaken with the election of Abraham Lincoln. Edward Decker had supported Stephen Douglas and it was apparent in his paper's comment, again reprinted from the Green Bay paper, that "no nomination for the presidency was hailed with as much enthusiasm as Douglas."

Harriet Warner Hall was no doubt visiting her grandmother in Waukegan, Illinois when she heard Douglas speak. She later said she would have liked to have heard Mr. Lincoln. During the summer the Comet brought news to Ahnepee, and men from Forestville, Clay Banks and other settlements came to town on Saturdays just to hear it. They read about Douglas’ barbs aimed at Lincoln, too, saying he was a "horrid-looking wretch, sooty and scoundrelly in aspect, a cross between the nutmeg dealer, the horse-swapper and the nightman." He further pronounced that "Lincoln is the leanest, lankest, most ungainly mass of legs and arms and hatchet face ever strung on a single frame."  Lincoln took a lot of what most today would term “crap” but he was good at giving it back. In one encounter with Douglas he said what Douglas said was true. He had indeed been a shop keeper, a school teacher and sold whiskey over the counter, however he left his side of the counter while Douglas remained on the other side.

In November 1860, it was generally accepted that Lincoln won the election, however the year old Enterprise neither proclaimed the fact in a headline nor in an article. The paper did, however, carry Mr. Lincoln's inaugural address the following March. 

David Youngs, Simon Hall and W.S. Finley supported Abraham Lincoln. Kewaunee and Pierce towns were carried by the Shanghuys,* thus tipping the election in Lincoln's favor there, but Douglas carried the county by 362 votes. George Wing would write about the "stiff neck old Democrats like Elliot, Yates, Major McCormick, Orin Warner and William Van Doozer." Wing said they saw nothing good in abolitionism or republicanism and then saw their sons "follow false gods of other political creeds."

Lincoln's election brought North-South controversies to a head and Ahnepee residents spent an anxious 1860-61 winter. Weekly mail brought stories about a war that seemed almost certain. News ensured that residents of Ahnepee spoke of little else. With the exception of the weekly mail, there was little connection with the outside world. George Wing wrote that settlers and woodsmen gathered nightly at the Tremont or Kenosha House or Boalt's store to discuss news that had come by letter or a paper from Manitowoc. They heard about "secesh" and wondered if one "secesh" could really lick ten Yankees as they had boasted.

Tensions ran high in Ahnepee as well as in the rest of the state.  Suspicions of loyalty lurked within the Democratic Party in 1861, and some Wisconsin Democrats abandoned the name "Democrat" to support a "Union Ticket" which endorsed a largely Republican state ticket. "Union meetings" were held at Milwaukee and Green Bay for both political parties. Ahnapee was a Democratic community. Older residents were reluctant to see war come, but, when the war did come, the slogans were "Save the Union at all costs" or "Save the Country." Feelings of patriotism ran high among some and Major McCormick, who was then 75, said he would fight if necessary.

Just before Abraham Lincoln’s second election, the Advocate weighed in. The paper encouraged all electors to vote and to remind others to do so. People were urged not to stay away from the polls because they felt their vote was not necessary. After the vote, the Advocate advised working toward suffrage. That would take a little over another 55 years. The paper also told people to vote early and promote the cause for the remainder of the day. The “cause” at the time was preservation of the Union. Causes change, but the Advocate’s words could be rerun today, 151 years later.

The more things change, the more they remain the same!

Notes:
Ahnepee became Ahnapee in 1873.

*Kewaunee County had few residents. Men only had the vote and immigrants had to have filled a Declaration of Intent, also called first papers, to vote. According to the Wisconsin Constitution, filing of a Declaration of Intent was all one needed to acquire land under the 1862 Homestead Act. Filing the Declaration indicated the intention of becoming a citizen, to support the U.S. Constitution and renounce foreign allegiance.

Shanghuys: A term applied to Abolitionists.

Sources: An-An-Api-Sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; Ahnapee Record/Algoma Record Herald; Door County Advocate; Wisconsin Blue Book, Manuel of the Assembly. The presidential photos were  found online at https://www.whitehouse.gov/photos.

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.

Wing and Eveland: Forces to be Reckoned With

Most 1850s era women knew their place. However, for more than 25 years there were those women making the proverbial waves, chipping away at those places. It was not only the injustices and inequalities directed at the women themselves; scores of women put themselves in harm’s way directing their efforts toward injustices and inequalities suffered by those of color.

It was the Northwest Ordinance of 1787 that created the states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan and, lastly, Wisconsin. Coming about two years before George Washington’s election in 1889, the Ordinance prohibited slavery in the states to be carved from the area represented by the Ordinance. That should have been it, but the Fugitive Slave Act passed in 1850 and that said anybody caught assisting slaves escape or failing to assist “the law” could meet/or be met with severe consequences. No doubt Christian principles entered in when some considered keeping others in bondage as unjust. What about the laws of the land? Were keeping such laws also unjust?

Assisting the slaves in the effort to runaway and escape to Canada was held in utmost secrecy. A simple indiscretion could easily mean the burning of one's house and barn. It could mean jail. It could also mean death. WHS has collected stories of Janesville’s Tallman House, the Milton House in Milton and the Underground Railway in Wisconsin. There are the histories of the notable Joshua Glover and of Caroline Quarlis, and there are stories of those unnamed. The Stockbridge-Mohican history indicates the underground railroad came up the western shore of Lake Michigan to at least as far as Green Bay. It is known boats on Lake Michigan and boats on the Fox River were instrumental in getting some of the so-called fugitives to safety in Canada. There is an historic home along the Fox in DePere where older city residents point out the roof-top captain’s walk while describing how the home’s residents watched the river for a boat carrying one on the way to freedom. What happened then?

Cargo ships

There are stories of escaping slaves coming through Chilton and Stockbridge before hiding in Green Bay’s Congregational Church, by day in the belfry and in the church proper at night. The Congregational Church was founded on September 21, 1935 as First Presbyterian. Its first services were held the following January in the surgeon’s quarters at Fort Howard Hospital. During the underground railroad era, the church was a safe haven.

A most interesting Green Bay resident is Rev. Jeremiah Porter. In 1840, Porter and his wife Eliza came to Green Bay where he conducted the Presbyterian Church for 18 years. In the years before his arrival he was known to be a staunch abolitionist in Illinois and by the time he was in Green Bay, his abolitionist sermons were so blistering that he needed a body guard! The Porters were passionate in doing God’s work.

Most runaway slaves came through Kenosha or Southport to Lake Michigan ports that were "junction points." Such ports offered chances for passage as a stowaway in the cargo hold of a vessel filled with wheat or other produce on its way to Buffalo. Once at Buffalo, Canada was only a short distance away.

Rufus Wing's burial site

What do runaways have to do with Wolf River? Perhaps nothing, but perhaps a great deal. Rufus Wing was an early resident, coming from Chilton where he was known to have assisted runaways. Wing was a cousin and Chilton law partner of B.J. Sweet, later the man Gov. Solomon put in charge of District 4, one of Wisconsin’s 5 sections for Civil War recruiting. Section 4 included Kewaunee County where Rufus Wing, who with other members of his family, rose to prominence. Wing continued his law practice in Wolf River.* 

Sweet was called honorable, well-qualified and high-minded, a good man with whom to enlist, but only 14 Ahnepee men did. Wing also received a recruiting commission to build a regiment and in 1862, part of his company was raised at Ahnepee. He also recruited at Sheboygan under Judge David Taylor, recruiting till summer of 1864. Wing himself served. He had access, knew others of prominence and knew what was going on. If he had underground railroad connections after he moved to Wolf River, they were never acknowledged.

Eveland tombstone

Another early resident was Almira Eveland whose family moved north from Kenosha in 1854. Her role in Kenosha is unclear, but the outspoken Mrs. Eveland was an abolitionist. In her June 6, 1888 obituary, it was noted that Mrs. Eveland was “greatly esteemed” as a woman of “generous impulses, intense feeling and unswerving Christian belief.” While much can be read into her obituary, the same words could be written about others. 

Wing and Eveland were among a handful of people living in Wolf River. It isn’t hard to imagine two with such fervent convictions working together. Mrs. Eveland’s foster son and son-in-law were sailors owning their own schooners. As they zig-zagged the lake picking up cargo and dropping it off, would some of the cargo have been human?

Rufus Wing and Almira Eveland are prominent characters in the history of the city now known as Algoma. It doesn’t seem as if both families would relocate to a place that was wilderness and live a life that was a little more normal for the time. Would their convictions have gone by the wayside just because they relocated? One would think they continued to follow their beliefs in the out-of-the-way, sparsely populated place. One would also think the proximity of the hamlet to Canada and communication that existed via schooner traffic could have easily provided the necessary cover and secrecy.

Did the underground railroad ever run through Kewaunee County? It is anybody’s guess, but with Eveland and Wing in such close proximity, there is a good chance that it did.

Notes: Wolf River became Ahnepee in 1859 and Ahnapee in 1873. In 1897 the name was again changed, that time to Algoma. The Town of Ahnapee remains. Further information on the Underground Railroad and its historical sites in Wisconsin can be found online at Wisconsin Historical Society..

Source: Ahnapee Record; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?; WHS.org;  tombstone photo by T. Duescher; handbill photo taken at Fort Sumter museum and ship photo by blogger.

Put on the Dancing Shoes and Cut a Rug

Cut a rug. Roll up a rug. That didn’t happen only in a flooring store. It happened in parlors and dining rooms all over Kewaunee County, at least for those who had rugs.

If there was anything the county’s hard-working Germans, Bohemians and Belgians looked forward to, it was their music. And their beer. When Harriet Hall was interviewed about the early settlement called Wolf River, she said any time there was a fiddler around, there was a dance and plenty of homemade beer to quench the thirst.

It wasn’t only in Wolf River. It was all over Kewaunee County, outside on the grass, inside homes and, eventually, in the halls that sprung up though out the county.  Halls such as Fellows’ in  Foscoro, Barta’s at Kodan, Feldman’s at Forest Hill,  Woracheck’s at Krok or Schauer’s at Norman were only a few of the popular spots. There were far more bands than are remembered today. Ramesh, Froelich, Gosz, Mahlik, Stahl, Schlies, Slovan and Petrosky’s Polish band were a few. Better known among the present generation are Reckleberg, Kulhanek, Nejedlo, Karman, Kohlbeck and Zimmermann. Family members played in the Two Creeks Farm Hand band, the Rhythm Boys, Hunsaders and the Penguins.

Hunsaders’ band, which included Grandpa on violin, cornet or tuba, played in many private homes including his own where the dining room was the scene of dances into the 1920s. Those who could afford real rugs in the parlor or dining room rolled them up. Who would chance having a rug damaged by shoes and dancing? Besides that, rugs slowed down dancing feet much as grass did generations earlier. Shoes slid more easily across the floors of halls where corn meal was sprinkled. Sometimes those shoes slid so fast that the person wearing them went down, spraining an ankle or even breaking a leg.

Those who had pianos in the parlor didn’t need a dance band. There was always someone to tickle the ivories and provide entertainment, whether for singing, dancing or just plain listening. A typical old German family planned for the oldest child to be musical. In Grandpa’s family it meant he would play a violin and both he and Gus would master the brass instruments. Sena played piano and organ, and played for church as well. Then came the player pianos and their rolls. As long as one could pump his feet fast enough to keep the music going, it did. Pumping one’s feet meant being able to read music or play by ear was unnecessary. Piano rolls provided the music that sound-mixing and programmed electric pianos do today, 100 years later.

In this day of earbuds, playlists and CDs, one hardly thinks of Ahnapee/Algoma being a place to buy a piano, a Victrola or phonograph. In this day of earbuds, playlists and CDs, the younger set doesn’t recognize the words Victrola and phonograph. Those who could afford Victrolas probably felt as if they’d “arrived.” As radios, phonographs and record players came into existence, who was going to crank up the Victrola?  Fifty years ago, old Victrola trumpets were found in barns being used as funnels for filling tractors and other machinery with oil. By then technology had moved to 8-track tape recorders and transistor radios, ensuring a party anywhere.

Buying a piano today means a Kewaunee County resident must travel to Green Bay, however August H. Klatt was selling Kimball pianos in Algoma by the turn of 1900. Victrolas and Ambrolas followed. C.A. Guth was another popular Algoma music merchant. A few years later Jirtle’s Music Store sold player pianos and their rolls. One might find them in county antique stores today.

Oldsters who complain about young people and what the loud music is doing to their ears could have harped on the same thing during their grandparents’ youth.  Just under 100 years ago, in 1921, C.A. Guth installed a Magnavox Victrola in his music store. It was said that in still weather the thing could play music loud enough to be heard as many as three miles away! Guth planned to play new records on the instrument and felt it could eliminate the need for orchestras  at public dances. 

To stop at Guth's to purchase a recording of a group such as the Rankin Band and have it for home use was a marvel in itself. Early records were about a half inch thick and were stored in the cabinet area below the turn table on which the recording was played. The arm was set so the needle would be in the first groove in the record and the magic followed. Needles had to be kept free of dust to minimize sound distortion.  If needles stayed in the same groove of a scratched record, it produced the same sound over and over until it was moved. Record players were “the bee’s knees” in technology 100 years ago and for more than 50 years after. Now all one needs is a Smart phone. Nobody cranks it. There is no investment in a Victrola or record player itself, nor needles and records. Besides that, it fits in one’s pocket and is always there.

What was it like when “cutting a rug” didn’t only happen in a flooring store? A lot!

Sources: The Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin Vols. 1 & 2. Photos are the blogger's.

Dr. Levi Parsons, Wolf River's First Physician

August 12, 1856 was heralded as the best day in the fledgling hamlet called Wolf River.  It was the day Dr. Levi Parsons stepped off the Cleveland.

Levi Parsons served Wolf River/Ahnapee/Ahnapee and all of Kewaunee County for at least 40 years until his death on October 20, 1897. Not only was he Wolf River’s first physician, the man who graduated from Buffalo Medical College was also Kewaunee County’s first Register of Deeds. He served as a physician in the Civil War and was county coroner. It was said Parsons had such a good heart that it did not matter if one had the money with which to pay him. It was further said that he was eccentric and not concerned with his appearance. Parsons spent a lifetime treating others before he was confined himself with the painful boils of Job's Ailment in 1889, however he recovered and was soon back at curing others.

Prior to Parsons arrival, Simon Hall and Old Doc Savage, better known as “Indian Joe”, were taking care of the few ills that arose. Joe was especially adept at using herbs to cure complaints when sarsaparilla didn’t work.  It wasn’t only Joe. Pioneers had to be their own doctors, and many families owned a “doctor’s book” which listed remedies and cures that could be made with berries, roots and bark. Plants were dried and packed away until needed for pain, stomach discomfort and more.

In the early days, illnesses were few in a young population, and a scattered population meant epidemics didn’t travel fast. As the area grew and settlements moved farther from the rivers, wells were dug. Eventually the outhouses built near the shallow wells were breeding grounds for disease. Frequent epidemics were related to well water, although popular opinion was that disease came from the environment and had nothing to do with sanitation. By 1879 it was accepted that nine out of 10 cases of typhoid, diphtheria and scarlet fever were caused by filthy water. Lister, Pasteur and others had made significant advances in sanitation and medicine by the time of the Civil War, but those advances were slow to catch on in the U.S.

During his first years in the area, Parsons was mostly called into the woods and to sawmills. Logging and sawing meant fractures, severed fingers and more. Sometimes logging and sawing resulted in death.  William Cook was one Parsons treated at Foscoro after Cook was injured by a falling tree. Cook died. Luke Stoneman was another treated at Foscoro. Stoneman had a finger taken off and two mangled by the circular saw in the mill. It was said the mill was a good coffin when a young man was struck in the shoulder by a ten-pound piece of iron that got loose and flew. Though the iron entered the man in the shoulder, it came out through his throat.

Jerome Reince lived to tell about his accident. He didn’t even call a doctor. A Brussels area resident, Reince was working in the woods in 1877 when he cut off his big toe. He put the toe in his pocket and walked home, later writing to the Record to describe the incident.

Not all accidents were mill-related. Fred Busch’s son broke both legs when the pile of logs he was climbing on toppled. Wenzel Wacek’s three year old daughter’s hand was nearly severed when she got too close to her mother who was chopping kindling. Jim Tweedale slipped and badly cut his hand while sharpening a saw. The list goes on.

As the population grew, Parsons’ workload increased as he began treating typhoid, diphtheria, scarlet fever, small pox and cholera. Measles, summer complaint, and ague were other conditions he began seeing.  

It was nearly 20 years before Parsons got some help. Dr. William Netzer and Dr. H.C.F. Perlewitz were welcomed on St. Patrick’s Day in 1878. All three men were kept busy.  A few months later 6 members of the Charles Hardtke family had diphtheria. During an 1879 epidemic, a Nasewaupee (Door County) family lost 7 children in 3 weeks. Ahnapee had 19 fatal cases of diphtheria in 5 weeks. Often the deceased were rolled up in their bedding and buried. During the winter fires were built to thaw the frozen ground enabling graves to be dug.

Diphtheria always seemed to be rearing its ugly head and as early as 1862 the Enterprize was offering cures. Readership was told that ordinary pipe tobacco would help if a live coal was placed in the bowl.  After a little tar was to be placed on the coal, the patient was to draw the smoke into the mouth and nostrils. Years later the Record advised people to swab their mouths and nostrils every half hour with a mixture of golden seal, borax, salt, alum, black pepper and nitrate of potash. The slime on the swab was to be removed when the swab was taken from the mouth. Who knows about the slime from the nostrils! Following that, a liniment of turpentine, sweet oil and aqua pneumonia was to be rubbed on the throat. The paper reminded folks that the bowels had to be kept clear with castor oil. 

01-03-1878 Record

Diphtheria was known to be contagious and schools, lodges and churches were often closed during outbreaks. The published remedies didn’t help young Frank Youngs or Rachel and Mary Ann Tweedale, wives of Jim and Ed. They all died in January 1863. (Note: Mary Ann was the first to be buried in the Tweedale Cemetery, just above the Lake St. hill on the east side of the highway. Some accounts give Mary Ann dying of typhoid in 1871.)

Scarlet fever was common and that led to another published cure. A poultice of burdock boiled in milk was to be applied to the neck of the one suffering. The earlier it was used, the faster the cure, but it didn’t help William and Mary Boedecker’s son who died in the outbreak in 1871. When Jim McDonald got the disease in 1877, the Advocate said he was “old enough to know better.”

Then there was black smallpox which a mixture of cream of tartar, rhubarb and cold water was supposed to cure. The Enterprize advocated vaccinations and Dr. Parsons said, “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” By 1872 the Health Officer was issuing smallpox regulations that included quarantines and warnings on homes with cases. In January 1894, the State Board regulated that children or teachers would not be allowed in schools unless they had smallpox vaccinations.

Cholera was especially bad on children and in 1885 the Record printed information describing the pamphlet available from the State Board of Health describing prevention of cholera and other diseases. Cholera was spread by infected food and water. Cholera patients were always thirsty and in a day of drinking water pails and use of a common dipper, infections spread fast.

Though Parsons was Wolf River’s first physician, by the time the community was called Ahnepee* (1859) or Ahnapee (1873), more physicians were drawn to the small community. E.M. Thorp was one of them. His family was prominent in the development of Fish Creek. Dr. John Minahan served the community around 1900. He had business interests within the county with brothers Hugh and William. William.went down on the Titanic. Known and loved by the community and beyond were Doctors Emil Witcpalek and Herb Foshion. It was Foshion who brought the first hospital to Algoma, The second hospital is now Long Term Care.

Any number of doctors were well regarded and are remembered. Then there was Dr. Joel Toothaker. Did he miss his calling when he served as a physician rather than a dentist? A name like Toothaker probably wouldn’t get it for a dentist.








Note:  The Enterprize became the Enterprise in 1865.

Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River? c. 2001; Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vols. 1 & 2, c. 2006 & 2012; Ahnapee Record; postcard from the blogger's files.

Lake Michigan and World War ll: Submarines, Aircraft Carriers, PT Boats and Fighter Planes

2014

With a population of just over 3,000, Algoma would seem to have been too small a place to have any kind World War ll prominence, but it did. Though Kewaunee wasn’t any bigger, that city also had a huge impact on the war. So did Sturgeon Bay and Manitowoc. Each of the Lake Michigan cities had a profound effect on winning the war.

In today’s world it is hard to imagine Lake Michigan having any kind of military role, especially one as early as the War of 1812. The Louisiana Purchase was fewer than 10 years old and, although there was some westward expansion, Lewis and Clark completed their epic exploration only 6 years before.

Early in the 1800s the British sloop Felicity is believed to have been patrolling, years before the War of 1812 started. One story is that the sloop was supposed to prevent the Potawatomie from joining the Americans. Another is that the patrolling ship’s captain had reason to believe the Potawatomie near today’s Two Rivers had large stores of corn for which he hoped to trade rum and tobacco and then take the corn to the garrison at Mackinac. Histories mention the British ships Welcome and Archangel sailing Lake Michigan serving in similar capacities. 

One hundred thirty years later, Lake Michigan was again supporting war efforts, however somewhat differently than most would think. Cloaked in secrecy, roles played by the lake shore communities were not widely known until well after the War. Nobody knew who was trustworthy, and it was assumed that enemy spies were everywhere.

One of the most well kept secrets is the subject of a soon-to-be released TV documentary, one which will appear on WPTV in mid-June. This blogger was among the privileged who saw the documentary at Sturgeon Bay Maritime Museum in late May.

Well before World War ll, tour boats were popular on the Great Lakes. As touring by auto and train got easier, interest in the tour boats began to wane. At the advent of World War ll, the Navy had 7 aircraft carriers and not enough planes or pilots. That the Pacific aircraft carriers Enterprise, Lexington and Saratoga were not at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 was miraculous.

Lt. Col. Edwin Goetz

Aircraft carriers are ocean-going ships, not Great Lakes side-wheel excursion vessels, but that’s where and how pilots learned to land and take off from a carrier. The Navy purchased two of the old cruise ships, removed the top levels and built a flight deck on each. Reconstruction expected to take 4 months was accomplished in two. Bomber pilots, some of whom were trained in Alabama by friend Ed Goetz, were sent to Glenview Naval Air Station in Illinois, just north of Great Lakes Naval Training Station.  

It was there on Lake Michigan that men such as future U.S. president George H.W. Bush completed training by taking off from Glenview and then practicing landing and taking off from the tour-boats- turned-aircraft-carriers.  After 8 or so landings and take offs, the crews were on their way to the Pacific. The Lake Michigan program was secret and when the war was over, it was estimated that over 17,000 pilots, signal officers and other personnel had trained aboard the two tour-boats-turned-aircraft carriers.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Wolverine_(IX-64)

Crashes killed men in the planes and men on the deck crews. Seventy years later, planes on Michigan’s bottom are being located, raised, towed into Chicago and refurbished. These important pieces of history are being preserved in museums throughout the country, monuments to those who served and gave their lives so we might have ours.

Even before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Algoma’s U.S. Plywood production was gearing up for war production. As men were drafted, women who had never before worked in manufacturing positions took over the jobs. Estimates are that the Plywood “boat works” was made up of no less than 85% women. Algoma-made plywood was used in the PT motor torpedo boat that in 1942 rescued General Douglass MacArthur, his wife, their son Arthur, Arthur’s Chinese nurse and other military personnel, taking them from Bataan to Mindanao.  Hulls from the boat works were sent elsewhere to be finished. Airplane wings and nose cones constructed at the Perry Street plant were also built from Algoma plywood.

An August 1943 Algoma Record Herald reported that five Japanese planes had been shot out of the air over Guadalcanal by Lt. Murray Shubin flying a Lockheed P-38 Lightening plane for which Algoma Plywood supplied parts. The article pointed out that not only was it a red-letter day for Lt. Shubin, but also for the Algoma Plywood. The workers received a pat on the back in a telegram from the assistant chief of the Army's Air Force staff, Major General Giles. In the telegram, Giles praised those on the production line who "had done your work exceedingly well and I thought you would like to know it."  Algoma Plywood was also awarded the Army-Navy “E” for Excellence. Where did Shubin get his training? On a Lake Michigan aircraft carrier?

At 17 when he graduated from high school, Algoma’s Jim Evans was several months too young to enlist in the Navy so he got a job in Sturgeon Bay as a welder at Laethem-Smith Shipyards. Living next to St. Agnes-By-the-Lake, Jim had a perfect view of what was happening on the lake, and sometimes it was seeing a submarine surfacing. A sub on Lake Michigan?  The deepest part of the lake is off Manitowoc and to just south of Algoma. Subs built in Manitowoc were retrofitted in Sturgeon Bay and there were days Jim was leaving for work only to see a sub surfacing, also on its way north. Jim’s welding brought the young man a new awareness: he knew what a faulty weld would do to a ship, and to the men on it who were already giving their lives. In the years to come, it was something that often crossed the mind of the young seaman.

Finally old enough to enlist, Jim was beyond basic training, in Florida and enjoying a little liberty with his new shipmates. As the men watched a vessel come up river (inter-coastal waterway) one night as they returned to their ship, Jim was stunned to see it was built in Sturgeon Bay and one on which he had worked. The thing was, nobody believed him. After all, Jim was just a kid and a seaman who was out enjoying new-found liberty.

Sturgeon Bay’s yards built 257 vessels in 3 ½ years. The yards grew so fast that within 6 months the city’s population exploded, nearly doubling overnight from 6,000 to about 11,000 people. It has been said about 40% of the shipyard employees were women and young women meant child care. Clarice Chapman Reynard began teaching kindergarten in the Quonset at Sunset Beach, a few hundred yards north of the Laethem-Smith yard. The war meant a shortage of teachers and Clarice had 125-135 kindergartners in a class! Those kindergartners were not as old as 5. The old Quonset was the building on the south end of Sunset Park in which Ray Christianson began the museum that is now Door County Maritime Museum.

On July 5, 1944 Kewaunee Shipbuilding and Engineering was the county’s second company awarded with the Army-Navy “E” for Excellence. By the time of the award, the company had launched 70 boats from diesel tenders to cargo and transport ships, 64 of which had been delivered. The company’s employees were recognized for their morale, their excellence in production and the records they continued to beat. Noting that the company had a remarkable training program which transformed farmers, merchants and professional men into exceptionally skilled shipbuilding workers, the high ranking military officials had nothing but good things to say about it. Production in what was a strip of swampland began in late 1941 and was going strong by May 1942. Note: A similar project began in 1917 with World War l but it failed.

Algoma Plywood, now Algoma Hardwoods, Kewaunee Shipbuilding and Engineering, now Kewaunee Fabrications, Laethem-Smith Shipyard, later Sturgeon Bay Shipbuilding and now Fincantierie, Sturgeon Bay's Peterson Builders and Manitowoc Shipbuilding Co. were forces in the World War ll effort. Manitowoc Shipbuilding and Peterson Builders no longer exist, however the other companies continue to provide employment to residents of Northeast Wisconsin.

To learn more about World War ll pilots and carrier training on Lake Michigan, watch for Heroes on Deck, a John Davies documentary that will be broadcast in mid-June on the Wisconsin channel of WPTV. More about the war time roles of the industries of Northeast Wisconsin can be found in area newspapers, libraries and by Googling.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald; Sturgeon Bay Advocate; Women of the Plywood: The World War ll Years, c. 1996; earlier blog posts; Photos except where cited are in the blogger's collection.

The Day the Circus Set Up in Grandpa's Hay Field

A few generations ago there were 10 year old boys whose ambition it was to run away and join the circus. Mothers probably thought they were living in their own three-ring circus with those kids, but the mothers, just as the boys, found a sense of awe when circus came to town. The big-top, the elephants, the trapeze artists, bare-back riders, the tantalizing smells of roasted peanuts and cotton candy…..Could anyone stay away?

Most of Algoma was under the big-top when the Kelly-Miller Brothers’ circus played on Grandpa’s farm field. Today it is hard to believe that America’s second largest circus would appear in a community as small as Algoma. But, it was August 1948 and things were a little different. Besides that, the circus needed a place to stop to water and feed the animals. Algoma was convenient. Tents that were set up in the field that is now the home of the Piggly-Wiggly and Subway were the scene of an afternoon show, however the circus welcomed residents as early as 9 AM to watch the feeding.

1948

Kelly-Miller’s caravan included 35 double-length cars of equipment, 200 animals, 450 people and 9 acres of tents. The circus brought a hippopotamus and what was billed as a “herd of giraffes.”  It was noted that the giraffes were the first ever to appear in Kewaunee County and that few circuses traveled with them. The hippo was no doubt a first as well. The second largest herd of elephants in the U.S. remains etched in memory of those in attendance that day.

When Dad and I walked over early that Sunday morning, the elephants were already put to work raising the big-top. The memory of the elephants’ trunks curled around those huge tent poles lives on, as it does with the now-adult-neighbor-kids. The farm was along the lake and a wonderful place for cool breezes on a hot day. The lake offered a good place for a cool dip or perhaps a bath too for the sweaty circus workers on that hot day.  Grandpa’s cottages were rented and parents were frightened when those of strange ethnicities were running up and down the beach, basking in joy on beautiful Lake Michigan shore. It didn’t take long to know there was nothing to fear. People are people and those people had the most exciting jobs on earth. To a kid, at least.

With so many acts in all three rings in the big-top, it was impossible to watch everything at once. Was the man really lifted high above the crowd by his teeth? How could one stand up to ride a horse? Did you jump when the ringmaster cracked his whip? Did your parents buy you  some peanuts or cotton candy? Did you see it when that elephant did his business right in the tent? Did your mother yell when you were about to stick your finger in the lion’s cage? If you could be in that parade, what would you be?

The smaller tents had other remarkable shows including a magic show. The magician using a drop knife that split carrots asked for a volunteer brave enough to put his or her arm under the knife. Who was so brave? It turned out to be Peter Kashik who was a 4^th grader in our school. Perhaps he volunteered himself or perhaps he was given a push, but our hearts stopped. Peter’s arm was going to be cut off. The magician raised the bar. Kids who couldn’t bear to watch heard the slam. Peter wasn’t bleeding and crying, he was smiling. He had an arm! What happened? How did we ever get so lucky to have a circus right there in Grandpa’s field? The stop that refreshed the animals refreshed all of us.

Kelly-Miller was Algoma’s first circus stop in 17 years. Circuses played in the city over the years and there were indeed 10 year old boys who wanted to join the circus and did! One was the popular Andy McDonald, Ahnapee’s showman.  McDonald, who managed the Ahnapee Theatre, advanced stagecoach reservations for those planning to attend Barnum's Great Show during the summer of 1871. In March, McDonald left town to become assistant manager of Barnum and Costello's Great Combination Show. Although the circus was known to stop in Ahnapee, Barnum's  big-top did never did.

Algoma had another association with the circus, Ringling Bros., Barnum and Bailey. That was Herman Ashby whose stage name was George Wilson. Herman was the 2^nd of four children born in Ahnapee to Joel and Minnie Haucke Ashby. How he ever got to the circus is obscure but his super human strength is what provided his livelihood. At 4’ 10 ½”, Herman was another Atlas. The Advocate called him a “midget Sampson” when he put on a show in 1908. Some said the strength of his jaw and teeth were so extraordinary that he could bite a nail in half and hang on a high wire holding on only with his teeth. An 1899 Advocate reported on residents who saw Herman’s act in Chicago where he was billed as “the man with the iron jaw.” His muscular development was showcased in wrestling and weight lifting shows. Most astounding was that Herman only weighed 126 pounds at age 30. Herman’s wife Lizzie was an equestrian, riding bare-backed. She could also play guitar, and did. Whether she was one of the singers who augmented Herman’s program is unknown. Herman was raised in Sturgeon Bay and appeared on stage at a young age. He served as the advance man for the Bamboo Queen show troupe that regularly played in Sturgeon Bay.

After Lizzie died an early death. Herman’s sister and husband raised their only child. It was then that Herman left his touring performance life to spend more time in Sturgeon Bay where he organized a vaudeville troupe of eight, known as the Ashby Combine. Sturgeon Bay residents Emily Friend, Millie Colu and Clyde Stoneman joined Chicago professionals in Ashby's show. According to a 1906 Democrat, Ashby offered high-class vaudeville and circus acts that he planned to take on the road after the August 16^th Sturgeon Bay opening. The Advocate reported that Ashby’s show was one of the best of the season with his talented performers. It said prices were popular and that Ashby “spared no pains” to offer the best and, because he was a city resident, he deserved support.

1917

When the circuses such as Lemen Bros. did not meet expectations, the papers let the public know. Presenting shows at both Sturgeon Bay and Kewaunee in 1899, the Advocate told readership how disappointed attendees were. The “show was rank” and worse than some of the smaller shows on the road. Furthermore the crowd following it was made up of swindlers and robbers who used shell games and slot machines to separate “easy marks” from their money. That circus got what was due after it performed in Seymour where it left town in a “shower of eggs.”

Owned by Wisconsin Historical Society, Circus World at Baraboo is a Wisconsin treasure. Highlighting the history of the circus and the Ringling Bros. Circus itself, it offers a glimpse into the life of those such as locals Andy McDonald, Herman Ashby and into the memories of all those Algoma senior citizens who remember giraffes, a hippo, elephants, tents and clowns on the Sunday the circus came to Algoma and set up on Grandpa’s farm.

The Kelly-Miller Circus is in business and can be found by Googling,

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald, Door County Advocate, The Democrat and family history.

From Normandy to Kewaunee: The Tug Ludington

Tug Ludington

When a man took a job during the Depression, what he expected to make was money, not history. And so it was with 23 year old Norman. Coming from a line of commercial fishermen, at 20 years old he had spent nearly that many years on the lake and bay, knowing the waters as well as anybody. Fifty years later he was still agile enough to jump on the roof of the wheelhouse of his own boat so he could turn the wheel with his big toe as he was setting the main. In between was when he served as captain of the tug that made history.

Norman was fortunate in 1932 when he got a job with the U.S. Corps of Engineers.He began shoveling coal, a menial job for an experienced seaman, but it meant a paycheck during the Great Depression. Fortune also smiled on him when, because of the Corps, he met his bride-to-be. On the water and away from home most of the time, he rose through the ranks, retiring in 1965 as Master, or Captain, of the sea-going Tug Ludington, pride of the Corps, and a vessel, with its complement, that was instrumental in the harbor building and reconstructions up and down Lake Michigan and in other Great Lakes’ ports as well. He was there from the tug’s beginning in 1946 when he and a few others were sent to Charleston to bring the World War ll vessel to Kewaunee.

Built at Jacobson Shipyard in Oyster Bay, New York, the 115’ tug was fourth in a series of eight sea-going tugs constructed during World War ll specifically for the war effort. Completed in October, the keel for the $369,400 vessel was laid in February 1943. After passing sea trials, the tug was accepted and christened Major William F. Browder by the U.S. Army which designated the tug LT-4. Up to then, privately owned tugs were being commissioned and converted for wartime use. The new tug’s armament consisted of two 50 caliber machine guns mounted above the chart room and pilot house. The guns don’t sound like much but the fire power was mainly for protection from airplanes. Tugs were often strafed by enemy planes and threatened by submarines, however the tugs were too small a target to waste a torpedo on. In early 1944, the ocean-going tug and two sister ships were taken to Southampton, England to participate in D-Day, towing ammunition barges across the English Channel. Having seen service the tug at Normandy and more, the tug now known as the Ludington surely has stories to tell. Ironically, Kewaunee County men were at Normandy and other wartime places where the tug was served, but years later, most would never know the vessel in Kewaunee’s harbor had anything to do with them.

Great Britain, Cargo light, 1938

After D-Day the tug went to Cherbourg, France to assist in harbor operations before going back to Plymouth until the wars end when it was returned to Norfolk, Virginia for assignments on the Eastern Seaboard. In October 1946, a cadre consisting of Norman, Loren Vandenberg, Alton Roubal, Virgil Michaels, Kenneth Olson and Joseph Kusbasiewicz picked up the tug in Charleston, most likely at the Charleston Navy Yard in the Cooper River, not far up-river from Fort Sumter. The men brought the tug up the Atlantic coast, into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, into the St. Lawrence River, through the Great Lakes and finally, after 35 days, to Kewaunee where it would replace the Corps' 48 year old Tug Cumberland. The direct drive diesel Tug Browder was the first of its LTV class to be transferred for service in Lake Michigan. As many of the other tugs, it was named after a Great Lakes’ port city and called the Ludington. Operating out of Kewaunee, the tug had a storied 40-year history in the construction and maintenance of harbors and breakwaters on the Great Lakes. Norman was there for its first 20 years.

In March 1947, a few months after getting the tug to Kewaunee, the men returned to work (following a winter hiatus) to ready the Dredge Kewaunee for April’s work in the city’s harbor. After that it was on to other Lake Michigan ports, ending the season in Menominee, Michigan. The dredge was joined by a new tug, the Two Rivers, which was being fitted out for towing and working with the dredge. At the time Norman was serving on the Two Rivers as Capt. Palmer LaPlante’s first mate. Harvey E. Conroy, who would retire in February 1950, was named captain of the Ludington. Conroy had been with the Corps for 36 years, having been a crewman on the Cumberland when he was promoted to first mate. His captaincy followed the retirement of Capt. Algie Alexander. When the Cumberland was retired, Capt. Conroy was assigned to the Ludington and was succeeded by Capt. Norman Johnson.

Ludington & Dredge Haines

April 1950 saw the Dredge Kewaunee moved from its winter quarters to begin the annual dredging of Kewaunee harbor. After that it left for South Haven, Michigan, joining the Barge Milwaukee which was carrying the construction materials. The Ludington and the rest of the construction fleet was on its way. And so it continued for the remainder of the Ludington’s life.

In a day without Smart phones and email, the crew and their family members depended on mail or long distance phone calls, something few used without a dire emergency. Radio station WKOW's “Breakfast Party” was new in 1951. The program offered women whose husbands were aboard lake vessels a chance to be interviewed and then allowed to call and say a few words to their loved ones. Two such people were Mrs. Drew Hickey and her daughter Darlene who got to call Mr. Hickey aboard the Ludington which was in Milwaukee. During the same program Mrs. Edward Velequette connected with her husband who was in Canadian waters on a Roen vessel. Conversations were not private, but it was thrilling to “talk over the radio.”

Wives and parents were often unsure where their husbands and sons were. In some ways the tug personnel often had little information themselves. At times there would be a change of orders with a two-hour notice to, for instance, leave Escanaba and head for Grand Haven. Men who thought they’d get home could easily have found themselves bound for Cleveland.

Harbor work in Algoma

The men on the tugs worked together and lived together during their season. They also knew just about everyone else on Corps vessels. Correspondence came from any number of men who had served on the Ludington or elsewhere in the Corps. Harold Knutson left the tug in 1951 but he kept up with the news. William Weinert was returning to school in September 1951 when he left the Ludington in Milwaukee. Weinert missed the camaraderie when he wrote to thank the captain and crew for their kindnesses. In 1954 Vern wrote from Ashtabula, Ohio to let the captain know Mr. Loemer had come over from the Tug Wilson. Joe W. Davies was on the Dredge Paraiso of Roosevelt, NY when he wrote to let the captain know about the Seaway Project. Edward Oertal had served and in 1963 he sent a Christmas card from his warmer “digs” in Bonita, Florida.

When Capt. Johnson retired in December 1964, Lt. General W.K. Wilson, Chief of Engineers at the Washington Headquarters of the Army noted a career of more than 33 years in federal service with the Corps of Engineers in the Milwaukee and Chicago Districts. Coincidentally, Elton Roubal retired at the same time. Roubal was on the Charleston trip and retired as dredge operator on the Dredge Kewaunee. A few other of the men who’d served in the Kewaunee Corps retired within a few months of each other. Ed Hohne was a dredge operator on the repair crew. Frank Kacerowsky was a former dredge operator on the Kewaunee and Buck Hessel had served as Master of the Two Rivers. The men had served from between 33 and nearly 39 years.

Though the Ludington’s work life is over, the tug with the proud past remains in Kewaunee’s harbor. For much of the year, the tug is an in-water museum available to be toured for a nominal fee. Touring Lake Michigan’s harbor cities is to know that the Ludington was there. Chicago and Milwaukee’s impressive harbors saw the Ludington and its complement do the work that gave rise to those harbors today. The tug began its life witnessing the pain of World War ll. It ended its life witnessing successes in the Great Lakes' harbors. If that boat could only talk. From Normandy, France to Kewaunee, Wisconsin, what a history!

Sources: On Land and Sea, c. 1995; Johnson family letters dating to 1932,  family scrapbooks and photos; paintings from NLJohnson Art.