Kewaunee County & A Horse-Dependant Society: Let It Snow, Let It Snow........

Chestnuts might be roasting on an open fire as "Der Bngle" hears silver bells and dreams of a white Christmas while Frank and Dean are outdoing each other crooning, “Let it snow, let it snow let it snow……..” They never lived in Northeast Wisconsin!

In 2016, many anticipate romantic gently falling snow and a Christmas Eve that is quietly Christmas- card perfect. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. But Wisconsin is not Beverly Hills L.A. and most years Bing’s dream would come true. There is snow, however most often not the blissfully warm, gently falling kind that offers scarf and stocking hat clad folks a winter wonderland. Wisconsinites bundle up.

Grandpa's horses

Snow and frozen ground was a pre-Christmas dream of the populace of early Kewaunee County. Movies had nothing to do with it. There weren’t any anyway. Snow that shuts the county down in 2016 meant great traveling conditions in 1900 and before, and for a long time after. It was the time of a horse dependent society. If the horse could go, the family could go. The harsh blast of a car horn will never evoke the nostalgia and comfort of the jingling sleigh bells in a Budweiser commercial. Harness bells announced that another sleigh was near. In a day without headlights, bells - and lanterns - meant safety. Adding to the joy on Christmas Eve were the sleigh bells mingling with church bells heralding the birth of the Christ Child.

                                                                                                                                                              

Replaced by garages or carports in northern climes, stables have become things of the past. Hotels have ramps and parking lots as do stores and churches. There was a time when cities and villages had liveries at which to board or rent a horse. It would never do to leave a horse tied in the sun or cold for hours. Church stables ensured that horses could get out of the elements during services that were far longer than today’s. St. Paul’s large stable was directly behind of the current church. Sanborn Fire Maps also show a smaller stable behind the location of the present parsonage. 

Although known by various names, what has been the Stebbins Hotel since 1905 has been there since the winter of 1857-58. The Stebbins had two stables providing space for horses. Even saloons offered stabling. In 1902 Albert Lohrey advertised his first class stabling in addition to fine saloon and bowling alleys.  The 1900 Sanborn map shows a stable behind the saloon but adjacent to the bowling alley and along the alley that ran north and south down the center of the black, behind Lohrey's,. There were places for horses during the summer or on a winter day when drivers of today just might decide to stay home.

When autos began making the scene, they could be operated in the summer when the roadways were dry and dusty. Snow shut them down as did spring and fall rains leaving mud and more. Everybody knew the new-fangled auto would never replace the horse.

After RFD was fully implemented in Kewaunee County on November 30, 1904, mail in was delivered in a horse drawn vehicle that resembled an outhouse on wheels. The mail carrier brought everything imaginable, unless it was so big – a Sears’ home, for instance - that it had to be sent via railroad. Little coal burning stoves provided heat for the carrier and, no doubt, sometimes singed the mail. So what if mail was singed? Mail was carried to the rural homes of those who previously traveled to pick it up themselves. Later, when carriers could use horseless vehicles, the vehicles only worked for so long. An auto couldn’t ford rives in spring when freshets washed out a bridge. No, it was the horse that could do it all. If Will Fellows were here, he’d tell you had his auto been swept away he might have drowned. As it was, he and his horse went to the neighboring farm where both were dried off and warmed before making sure that the mail went through. There were times that Fellows repaired country bridges so that he and his horse could use it.

By the beginning of World War ll, cars had almost replaced the horse. Algoma’s Louie Kammer gave up his dray line and began driving truck. Tom Baudhuin’s trucking company grew steadily. Bing Crosby had to be waxing nostalgic dreaming of a white Christmas with softly falling snow. When Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin wanted to let it snow, maybe it was because they had someone to shovel it.

Those who were certain the horse would never be replaced are no longer with us. Would they be surprised if they could come back? Maybe. What would really give them something to think about is breaking news and how a few inches of predicted snow can mean a traffic nightmare. It wouldn’t bother a horse.

Snow in the Town of Red River

 Sources: Algoma Record Herald photographs;Grandpa's horses - blogger's phots; paintings courtesy NLJohnsonArt ; Sanborn Fire Maps at Algoma Public Library; Here Comes the Mail: Post Offices of Kewaunee County, c. 2010.

Algoma, Schuenemann, Evergleam & the Christmas Tree Connections

Algoma is full of Christmas trees. Sparkling tree lights – inside and out – delight passers-by. Trees glow in places of business and at Legion Park. Children enjoy Christmas trees in their classrooms and at the public library, and churches will be aglow on Christmas Eve. A generation or two ago, there were a couple of tree lots in town for those who didn’t cut their own tree. It was a time when folks felt artificial trees were a joke.

It was the German settlers who brought the Tannenbaums to Ahnepee* and a few of those settlers made sure their fellow countrymen were able to maintain their time-honored traditions. At Statehood, northern Wisconsin was heavily timbered while what would become Door and Kewaunee Counties had more cedar than anywhere in the state. Logging and wood products provided jobs, and the jobs brought more settlers. More Germans meant a greater demand for their favorite evergreens, trees that, like God, never change.

It was also a time when roads were little more than primitive paths through the forests, a time when rivers and Lake Michigan provided the best in transportation. Ahnapee was a lake port. Goods came into town and products were shipped. Ahnapee captains traversed the lake, trying to make a living like everybody else. Shipping looked as if it was lucrative, and there was plenty of business, but shipping didn’t make the Ahnapee captains rich. After bills were paid and the family was seen to, there often wasn’t money to left for patching the sails, mending the lines and caulking the seams of the old wooden vessels.

Both Chicago and Milwaukee had huge German populations. As that population grew, folks had to go farther and farther to find a Christmas tree. There were those who cut trees in city parks. And that’s what started it. “It” was the “Christmas tree ships.”

Captains from Ahnapee and other lake towns began making a last voyage in November – the worst month on Lake Michigan. The captains and their crews made that last trip to Northern Wisconsin or to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to pick up a load of Christmas trees for places at the lower end of the lake, mostly Milwaukee and Chicago. Often, that trip made the difference that put the year in the black.

Small as it was, 40% of the tree captains and crew members came from Ahnapee. Herman Schnemann is the Ahnepee born captain who went down in the lake in November 1912 before going down in books, stories, song, musical theater and even a Weather Channel video. Herman had sailed with his older brother August, affectionately called “Christmas Tree Schuenemann.” In 1898 Herman’s wife Barbara had just given birth to twin daughters and needed Herman at home to care for his family. As it was, a lake storm took August’s life, the lives of his crew and sunk his ship as it neared Milwaukee. Herman immediately took over where August left off, saving Christmas for Chicago's German immigrants. Chicagoans awaited his yearly visit and called him Captain Santa, prompting Herman to craft his image. A look at him is to think, “his eyes how they twinkled,” "his dimples how merry,"and “the little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.” Herman didn’t have a beard, but he had a moustache and, often, “the stump of a pipe he held close in his teeth,” so perhaps “the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.” Herman liked to make people happy and one could say the Christmas trees were in Herman’s blood.

Years earlier, Herman and August purchased land in Michigan’s U.P. There they raised and cut trees, offering employment to the Native Americans in the area. Herman was in the U.P., loading in Cedar River that fateful November 1912 day when the barometer was dropping fast. The Weather Bureau wasn’t issuing warnings, however. Maybe a storm was brewing but if it was, Herman thought he could out run it. Rats were scurrying off the ship and one of the crew members, a Green Bay fellow, refused to board the boat. Those rats were an ominous sign, and Herman was cautioned not to leave port. As the weather worsened Herman still felt he could out run it. But, he didn’t.

Freezing rain, sleet and snow turned to ice, sticking to the mounds of trees stacked on the deck. The boat got heavier and heavier. By the time the boat was north of Kewaunee, the ice covered mizzen and its sails were dragging behind the boat. It had been spotted, but nobody saw a distress flag flying. A car ferry trying to make Kewaunee radioed the Life Saving Station about a boat in trouble. The storm overpowered Isaac Craite and his crew as they attempted a rescue. There was nothing they could do but turn back. Craite radioed Mr. Sogge at Two Rivers, but the boat didn’t get that far. When Capt. Santa failed to make Chicago, and there was no word, the lake communities knew Herman went down in that violent storm. As Herman did after August’s sinking, his wife Barbara and her daughters immediately took Herman’s place. Barbara was called Mother Schuenemann and dubbed “The Christmas Tree Queen” by the papers. By then railroads brought more trees than Christmas tree ships ever could, and trucking trees was in its infancy. In the year before Herman died, it was said Christmas tree ships brought 27,000 trees to Chicago, however the lake was not providing the efficient transportation it once had. Feeling there was a legacy to protect, Herman’s daughters and took over from Barbara, eventually phasing out the business in the mid-1930s. 

There is more to the story and the Algoma connections, however. And, it isn’t in any of the videos. Those of us with long-time roots, roots in what is Algoma before the Civil War, have ancestors who went to school with the Schuenemann children before the family moved to Milwaukee, mostly due to father Frederick Schuenmann’s Civil War injuries. The tree captains always passed Ahnapee/Algoma on their trips up and down the lake shore. This blogger served on the Living Lakes board when in 2003 Algoma’s Steele Street point was renamed Christmas Tree Point in tribute to the men of Ahnapee/Algoma, those throughout Kewaunee County, and Wisconsin’s lake shore communities, who had served on the Christmas tree ships.

The ships were seen from the windows of the blogger’s grandparents’ dairy milk-bottling building. Isaac Craite, the man at the Kewaunee Life-Saving Station, was one grandpa’s first cousin. Sogge at Two Rivers had Algoma roots. Joe Dionne, another first cousin, had just been transferred from Two Rivers to Sheboygan. When Joe was interviewed by Milwaukee newspapers, he said Herman’s boat, the Rouse Simmons, sunk in the worst storm he’d ever seen in his 47 years on Lake Michigan.

Christmas Trees and Algoma ties don’t stop there.

In the late 1950s Jerry Waak of Aluminum Specialty Co. in Manitowoc wanted to manufacture artificial Christmas trees. There had been a few such trees around, but Jerry envisioned aluminum trees. After all, that was the company’s business. The trees needed trunks and that’s when Jerry went to Algoma to ask cousin Maynard Feld if his Algoma Dowell Co. could manufacture them. Yes indeed. For the ensuing years, Christmas trees once again provided employment to Algoma residents.

Those Evergleam Christmas trees have faded into history, however part of the history is once again on display at Wisconsin Historical Society Museum in Madison. In the beginning the trees were silver aluminum, but new and improved meant pink and gold. Revolving stands with colored lights, changing tree colors as they rotated, were popular. There were aluminum wreaths and wall decorations; however it wasn’t Mother Schuenemann and the girls making them.

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Herman Schuenemann’s parents, Frederick and Louisa, brought his older brother August from Manitowoc to Ahnepee late in the 1850s.  One hundred years later Jerry came from Manitowoc to Algoma for a Christmas tree planning session with Maynard.

Algoma has more of a relationship with Christmas trees than most could dream. It’s more than a TV program and a museum display. Besides, the Reindeer was making port in the intervening years, but that’s another story.

                                                                                N. Smith photo

Aluminum trees were found all over during the early 1960s and Gillett Historical Society's museum has one in their collection. The Gillett Museum is in the home belonging to former Ahnapee/Algoma resident Walter Smith who married Ruth Heald from the Foscoro area. The son of Civil War veteran John Smith became a protege of Paul Gablowsky. From his Algoma employment Smith went to Seymour to manage a woodenware company. When that burned, he bought the equipment and moved it to Gillett where he started a new company. The museum will reopen on Memorial Day weekend and is worth a trip.

*Locals spelled their community's name with one “a” and three “e”s, however the State of Wisconsin most consistently used the spelling we know today: Ahnapee. When the place received its village charter in 1973, residents changed the name from Ahnepee to Ahnapee, thus going with the flow. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

Sources: An-an-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; The History of Commercial Development in Youngs and Steele Plat and Other Significant Properties in Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol. 1, c. 2006, and Commercial Development in Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol.ll, c. 2012; Feld family history; Algoma Record Herald. Painting is from NLJohnsonART and is used with permission. The Gillett Museum photo is courtesy of N. Smith while other photos and the postcard of Schuenemann are the blogger's. 

Veterans' Day and the Vets of Kewaunee County

U.S.S. Cowell, Fletcher Class

Joining the men and women of the Tin Can Sailors at a ship’s reunion – the U.S.S. Cowell‘s or at a national reunion - is both an honor and a privilege. September marked the 40^th anniversary of national gatherings. Five Wisconsin men and women sailors were there, but there was neither one from Algoma nor Kewaunee County. Many are/were eligible although most would have been men who served in World War ll. In more recent years, the list includes women.

Seaman Fritz Opicka was one of the World War ll men. Opicka enlisted in the Navy during June 1942. Following training at Great Lakes, he saw service on a destroyer in the Atlantic Ocean. Writing to his aunt and uncle, he described the morning the ship’s lookout saw something appearing to be rafts. They’d seen such rafts before but they were empty. Not this time. There were people on the rafts – 43 men and 3 women. As the ship pulled closer, those on the rafts began cheering and singing Yankee Doodle. With the exception of 2 women refugees and 2 Belgians trying to get to South America, those on the rafts were English. Their ship had been torpedoed and they had been adrift for 4 days and nights. There were injuries. While Opicka’s shipmates made the raftees as comfortable as possible, the cook made a birthday cake for one of the women who would celebrate her birthday the next day. Adding to the rescuees’ happiness were the cigarettes and clothing they were given. Not all on the torpedoed ship were set adrift however.  The captain was taken prisoner by the German sub crew and two English seamen were killed.

Lt. Frank Lidral was the communication officer in 1945 on the newly commissioned U.S.S. Herbert J. Thomas. In Boston for the commissioning, Lidral told folks back home that destroyers were named for heroes and in the case of Thomas, he was a Marine corps reserve sergeant who had won a purple heart and the Medal of Honor.* Lidral was a1942 graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis who requested duty on a destroyer. The Thomas, with Lidral on it, was assigned to the Pacific fleet.

In 1944 Donald Berkovitz was in Kewaunee visiting his parents. Berkovitz served on a destroyer crew in the South Pacific. About the same time Frank Schmidt was visiting his family in Algoma. Schmidt completed boot camp at Great Lakes, however was returning for further schooling. Two years later Schmidt was a coxswain** stationed at Bikini Island aboard the Quarty awaiting nuclear testing, an event which he witnessed. That first testing – Operation Crossroads - occurred in July 1946.

U.S.S. Kidd, Baton Rouge

The Beaurains, Lloyd and Orvin, both served on destroyers, in the Atlantic and Pacific respectively. Ironically both were fire control men. Lloyd’s wife, the former Lucille Johnson, was a Minnesota woman employed by the Navy Department in Washington.

During January 1944, AHS 1938 graduate Mathew Hauer was in town sharing his military experiences while visiting with his grandmother Mrs. Gus Umberham. Hauer had 3 stars on campaign ribbons from service in Africa and a Purple Heart from shrapnel wounds suffered in the Mediterranean when German planes sunk his destroyer, the Beatty.

Petty Officer Herman Dax was aboard the U.S.S. St. Mary’s at Yokohama in Tokyo Bay in 1945 where he was part of a crew hauling troops and supplies for the occupation. He told about the huge convoy of destroyers, destroyer escorts and aircraft carriers entering the bay, and thousands of planes over head. He told about General Douglas MacArthur passing by in a destroyer as he was on his way to the battleship Missouri where the Japanese surrender would take place. Dax said he was with the troops marching ashore with the band playing. Although the troops were in dress uniform, they carried weapons, remaining in readiness.

Wikipedia says the USS Bainbridge was the country’s first destroyer in 1915-1916, however the website American’s Navies indicates that destroyers were a new type of ship made necessary to counteract the torpedo boats that began making an appearance as early as 1891. Initially called torpedo boat destroyers, the name evolved to destroyer. The capabilities of the small, fast boat became clear around the world and the ship was here to stay. Destroyers were new in World War l. In April 1917, newspapers were heralding the “little craft” that could make 28 knots an hour. The Navy had 51 at the time, 49 in torpedo flotillas and 2 attached to submarines. The destroyers with their four 4” guns and four torpedo tubes carried about 100 men whose duty was protecting submarines and shipping lanes. At the time, there were two dozen subs in the Atlantic Ocean.

Nearly a year later, in February 1918, news articles said half the men in the Navy had been there for years while the other half enlisted as soon as the “current trouble” was evident. Many who had been discharged re-enlisted. Soldiers were embraced and recognized for their service while some forgot that the Navy was always there too. As one of the February 1918 articles pointed out, “If our many citizens could only get a glance of one of our little war dogs – the torpedo boat destroyer in heavy weather and could understand that it might have been days………- the Navy would get far more credit.”

Something for the Kewaunee County record books occurred on a destroyer during World War l. KHS graduate Walter Wiesnoski was a young petty officer aboard a ship patrolling the coasts of England and France while his brother Stanley was in the Army serving with Pershing in France. Stanley was in poor health and being sent back to the U.S. on a transport. As luck, or lack of it, would have it, the transport Jutland was attacked and sunk by a German sub. As the men attempted lowering the lifeboats Stanley was one thrown into the sea, being struck on the chest and severely bruised. Somehow he managed to keep afloat for about 2 hours. Meanwhile the two destroyers that heard the Jutland’s distress calls made for the scene. One picked up Stanley. When he learned the name of the other destroyer, he knew his brother Walter was on it. A small boat transported Stanley to meet his brother, whom he had not seen in years. The reunion was brought about by a sinking ship.

Reunions come about in any number of ways, one of which is the activities of Veterans' Day, once called Armistice Day, marking the end of World War 1 at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. On a Saturday morning nine years ago a group of Lighthouse Keepers was working restoring the Grassy Island lights. The day just happened to be Veterans Day. The men were vets and on-the-spur-of-the-moment had their own impromptu memorial. They did it again the following year and in the intervening years, the memorial has grown to hundreds of folks coming together. Beginning with the national anthem, the event is an impressive recognition of veterans, some of whom are World War ll veterans in their 90s. There are men and women who have recently served, or are serving and are on leave. Speeches, the Sullivan-Wallen Post 11 presentation of colors, the Coast Guard's wreath, the Bellevue scouts leading the pledge of Allegiance, the bagpiper and a fly-over ,,,,, It is when the vets come together, there is a connection that the rest of us cannot begin to understand.

*Medal of Honor is the nation’s highest military honor and created during the Civil War. It was awarded at the White House for the first time on January 10, 1906 when it was personally presented by President Theodore Roosevelt. President Roosevelt ordered in September 1905 that medals thereafter would be conferred by the president. Prior to that time, such medals had just been mailed to the recipient. Roosevelt felt the awarding should be an impressive ceremony, noting the rare honor of the precious medal.

**Coxswains have their jobs on ship, but it is the coxswain who is in charge of and handling the captain’s gig. They keep the gig looking spiffy to always make the captain look good. Where does the captain go when leaves the ship for a small boat. When Uncle Richard was a World War ll coxswain, he said it was always up-river for cocktails.

Sources: Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald;America's Navies website; F. Schmidt Interview 2006; Wikipedia; Paintings courtesy NLjohnson ART; photos are the bloggers.

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.