The Storms of November: The Three Sisters

November has a reputation for storms on Lake Michigan, and 1912 was a noteworthy year for ship sinkings. Those unfamiliar with the Titanic learned about it in the Kate Winslet-Leonardo DeCaprio movie by the same name. Artifacts from Ahnapee-born Herman Schuenemann’s Christmas tree ship Rouse Simmons are in Rogers Street Fishing Village and Museum in Two Rivers, Wisconsin. That story was the subject of books, a stage musical and, for years, a Storm Stories feature on the Weather Channel.

The story of the Three Sisters wasn’t quite so well known, however Dyckesville priest Father John Melchers, Edward Delfosse and George DeBaker were each awarded the Carnegie Medal of Honor for courageous rescue efforts. It’s a family story; Grandpa’s brother-in-law was the master of that schooner. Grandpa sailed with him. But not that day.

In late November, Capt. Phillip Klumb and his crew, Soren Torgerson and Andrew Hanson, loaded the Three Sisters with hay at Chaudior’s dock and were bound for the lumber camps in Cedar River north of Marinette. The schooner would leave Cedar River loaded with logs.  Klumb and his wife, the former Anna Johnson, had family members up and down the bay of Green Bay from Little Sturgeon to Red River, and in Marinette. Phil and Anna grew up just down the road from each other at Lilly Bay, where her father Peter, a commercial fisherman and farmer, owned the dock. After their marriage the couple made their home in Mennekaune, a small community along the Menomonee River, sandwiched between Marinette and Menomonee. Shipping provided opportunities for family socialization, but that November it was a funeral that brought the Klumbs and Johnsons together. It was the second funeral in 6 months as Anna’s mother died of breast cancer in June.

On what turned out to be the Sisters last trip in the fall – or ever – there was apparently some hesitancy about the trip, but they loaded anyway. As the vessel was leaving Chaudior’s dock Friday afternoon November 23, 1912, it somehow got hung up on rocks. Managing to release itself, the Sisters began its northwest sail across the bay, however strong north winds brought snow and rain, blowing the ship off course. It was sighted at anchor south of Chaudior’s off Dyckesville in Red River the next afternoon when an estimated 55mph wind was sweeping the area. It was evident that the men were trying to ride out the storm. The wind kept up on Sunday. What really happened will never be known because the three men died.

Gale-like winds washed over the boat, tearing windlass from the forward deck, breaking the anchor chains. As the boat was pushed toward shore, those living near the Dyckesville shoreline could only watch in terror as it was washed in, pounding on the rocks about 300’ from shore. The engine had quit and the fierce wind had taken the canvas, though the spars remained.

Capt. Klumb tied on his life vest and slid into the raging water, attempting to make it to the beach, however the beating waves were overwhelming him. As Klumb got a little closer Father Melchers treaded into the water and managed to grab Klumb whom he carried to a nearby home. Capt. Klumb was barely alive and died of exposure an hour later.

The terrified folks on shore knew there were men aboard who might be alive. Fisherman Edward Delfosse launched a small boat to begin a most heroic rescue attempt. At one point his boat was swamped and pushed back toward the shoreline. Somehow Delfosse made it to the Three Sisters to find Torgerson lying on a pile of ice-covered hay, nearly dead. Delfosse got Torgerson into his boat and was nearly back to shore when both men were thrown from the boat. They were close enough that bystanders could pull them in, but by then Torgerson was dead. Hanson froze to death earlier and was found wedged between hay bales on the deck. He and Torgerson were both living in Marinette, but both had Door County roots.

In a strange twist of fate, it was thought one named Neil Tillman was aboard the ship. When days later Mrs. Tillman went to identify her husband’s body, the body was that of a man she’d never before seen.

The Sturgeon Bay Lifesaving Station was notified as soon as those on shore were aware of the boat in trouble. Capt. Robinson and his lifesaving crew began a valiant rescue attempt but the 55 mph winds hampered that crew too as they searched along the bay. Sighting the water-logged Sisters was another matter. When the life-saving crew arrived on the scene the following day, there was nothing they could do.

Newspaper accounts indicated Capt. Robinson and his crew took care of salvaging, but Grandpa was there taking care of it himself. Perhaps Robinson’s men had something to do with it, however the picture taken that day clearly shows Grandpa on deck. Although newspapers say the boat was pounded to shreds, there was definitely enough planking for Grandpa to walk on. The bow of the boat is visible as is the anchor fluke. Three Sisters is evident on both sides of the bow. If the boat broke free of its anchors, why was one on deck? In the days that followed, Grandpa salvaged what he could before the hull just went to pieces.

The Three Sisters was a small schooner with a 60’ length and 19’ beam. She was built in Fish Creek in 1901 by another in-law, and mostly hauled out of Marinette, frequently lumber for Washburn Lumber Co. in Sturgeon Bay.  Klumb bought the craft in 1907. He had owned the Reliance and the Defiance earlier.

Newspaper accounts came from interviews of those on shore watching in horror and, of course, speculation. A family’s account is what they know with certainty and what has been learned from bystanders. What isn’t known is why the Sisters ever left Chaudior’s dock or how it got so far off course. Possibly the hull was damaged as the boat was leaving the dock, and, as any ship wreck in which all perish, there remain questions.

The waters of Green Bay and the waters of Lake Michigan hold countless ships holding even more stories. Wisconsin Underwater Archeology and diving groups have done much to document the history of lost vessels. Analyzing their findings, they contribute much to Wisconsin’s maritime history. It is doubtful any more will be learned about the Three Sisters, but that could be another strange twist of fate.

That storm affected the family in yet another way. Algoma Capt. Herman Schuenemann and his crew died when his ship the Rouse Simmons sunk just north of Two Rivers. Schuenemann had been advised not to leave Thompson, Michigan, with his load of Christmas trees. Klumb and Schuenemann were well experienced captains whose rationale will never be determined. Ann Arbor 5 was nearing Kewaunee when the crew saw the Simmons in distress, yet the vessel was not signaling distress. The

ferry's captain radioed Kewaunee Life Saving Station. Capt. Isaac Craite and his men were overwhelmed by the ferocious waves and could do nothing. Craite was the other grandpa's first cousin. Capt. Joe Dionne, a first cousin of both, had been transferred from the Two Rivers' station to Sheboygan. Taking his place was Capt. Paul Sogge a man with

Kewaunee County ties. When the papers later interviewed Capt. Dionne, he said he had never seen such a lake storm.

One hundred two years later, the Titanic and the Rouse Simmons are well remembered. Nobody wrote songs and a musical about the Three Sisters or the other boats that went down in that same November storm, but they are chronicled. Anybody looking for a good book about the identified shipwrecks on the bay of Green Bay or the northern part of Lake Michigan will enjoy Paul J. Creviere's book Wild Gales and Tattered Sails. Rochelle Pennington and Fred Neuschel have written about the Christmas Tree ship, Rouse Simmons. Pennington has also written a children's book about the ship. Trygvie Jensen's volumes offer insights into commercial fishing and the fury of Lake Michigan. Lake Michigan does not easily share is secrets.

Picture credits: Capt. Armstrong's Wren in Algoma is the subject of the top photo. It is owned by and used with permission of historian and great-granddaughter N. Harvey. The photo captures Algoma in the schooner days, although newspaper accounts often mention 20 or so schooners riding at anchor. Bert Scofield, another first cousin, was running his men through a lifesaving drill in the Sturgeon Bay canal about 1900 when the picture was taken. The picture and that of Capt. Johnson salvaging are from family files and were most certainly saved from the Door County Advocate. The life-saving crew is a watercolor by N. Johnson and used with permission. The postcard is from the blogger's collection.

 

 

"The Incident" and a "Bad Rap"

Algoma Public School, Postmarked 1910

In late winter 1916, nine Algoma teachers complained that high school principal George Bassford had insulted their moral character as well as that of others in the community. Bassford was alleged to say teachers could do whatever they wanted to do outside the city, but had to behave in the city. Whatever “behaving” was, its definition was not in Attorney Joshua John’s files in the ARC at UW-Green Bay, or in newspapers of the time.

It seems that ten* of the District’s teachers who were boarding with Mrs. Herbert Sibilsky felt one of their number had to be reporting behavior to the principal. Reading accounts nearly 100 years later, it would appear that single women – many young – and a 60 year old man in authority gave a story legs.

Students went on strike against Bassford after he fired a female teacher without a hearing. The firing was attributed to insubordination. Things escalated. Citizens believed the teachers. When other teachers were asked to “testify,” they refused to do so without benefit of counsel. Some teachers left town, returning to their own homes and thus necessitating the board hire new teachers, including a replacement for the woman fired. By then there were those who said the woman was fired for resisting Bassford’s caresses. Bassford had gone to bat for his teachers as early as 1914 when the Thanksgiving issue of the Record took note and said he took over the students so teachers could catch the train during the school day to be home for Thanksgiving

News of “the incident” spread, and an “incident” makes for delicious gossip. On February 29, 1916 the State Journal reported the school fight was all over town, on the streets and in the homes. What made the story especially juicy was that Bassford was a 60 year old married man. The State Journal reported the following day saying Bassford called teachers to the office, locked the door and alleged both immoral character of citizens and lax teacher morals. According to the Journal, 600-700 people attended a meeting at the Opera House to discuss the astounding charges. Such news even made the March 2^nd edition of small town Amery, Wisconsin in an article telling readers about shocking character charges against Principal Bassford. It reported that in a school of 125 students, only 20 showed up on the day that paper acquired its news. On the 3^rd of March, the Record commented when its headline screamed that Mr. Bassford was “Meat For Yellow Journalists.” It noted choice bits of scandal. The Record didn’t comment earlier because of the “delicate” matter.

Attorney Joshua Johns – later 8^th District Congressman - was engaged as attorney for the teacher discharged and those who resigned. When the Board attempted to pay the discharged teacher, she said she didn’t want the money, though sometime later she wanted her salary for the entire year. Following one mass meeting at Opera House, businessman Sam Perry said a “small town is excited by charges affecting women and girls” and that excitement carried them away. Perry, who was interviewed by Milwaukee Journal, also said the school board was made up of seven respected business men of all political parties. Perry felt the agitation was due to the disappointment of the resigned teachers and felt the incident was closed. But it was not.

The State Journal  informed readership on March 16, 1916 that the matter was taken up by Wisconsin Board of Education as the fired teacher wanted to be heard, though the Board refused her twice. A teacher who returned to Oshkosh, Miss Gansen, said in an interview that principal intervened in a quarrel between two teachers. Gansen said the issue had nothing to do with schoolwork, however  she declined to say more, other than that the teachers didn’t get a fair deal. Algoma’s board did ask those teachers who left to appear and air their grievances. The teachers did not and, according to the paper, handed in threatening resignations instead. That involved reinstatement of the dismissed teacher.

It was reported that the teachers hastily resigned, and when they found out how much that would cost them, they (in effect) went after the principal. The court said the teachers took their troubles to the public and that newspaper accounts were highly exaggerated. After investigations, the Board exonerated Bassford though asked him to resign saying the papers had been flooded with such embarrassing stories that his leadership was questioned and that, essentially, the District looked bad. The Record called the incident “nauseauting.” Bassford filed suit in September for what he felt was a breach of contract as he had two years yet to fulfill.

On May 31, 1918 the presiding judge found for Mr. Bassford, against the school district, and awarded him $400. It was found that Mr. Bassford was trying to iron out the issues. He had told one teacher to apologize and “make things right,” or she would have to step down from the faculty. Bassford said nobody was “tattling” on anybody and while the term “liar” was never brought forward, there were those who thought he was one.

Milwaukee Journal carried an article reporting that things were cooling down, and both weekly papers – The Record and The Herald -  supported the principal and the board. There were new teachers and school was running smoothly. As the Record said, a small incident cost the District over $1,200 in legal fees, caused turmoil, confusion and passion to sweep the city.

The incident undermined the city, the credibility of the Board of Education and its choice of teachers. A “small incident” affected reputations in a big way. In 2014, it could be said that Bassford got a “bad rap.” In a subsequent Algoma Herald* F.J. Walters and Harry Heidmann said the Board had the facts and others did not. They went on to say the Board was sincere in its handling of the “disgraceful occurrence.”

*One account has Mrs. Sibilsky renting to 10 teachers. The number seems high because the high school had 8 teachers in total according to the 1917 Crescent Beach Echoes, the school's yearbook.  If the number included the grade school teachers, Mrs. Sibilsky would have been renting to most of the city's teachers. Ten single women working at the same kind of job,  living in the same home, eating meals together and so on, would seem like a scenario for conflict. 

Mrs. Sibilsky was operating the hotel remodeled in 1903 from the bar and dance hall built by her husband in the mid-1890s. The Mill St. building, once the site of the Sheridan Hotel, was torn down in the mid-1990s.

**Algoma Record and The Herald merged a short time later.

Sources: Joshua Johns' files at ARC-UW-Green Bay; Algoma Herald; Algoma Record; History of Commercial Development in Youngs and Steele Plat and Other Significant Properties in Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol. 1; Cox-Nell House Histories. Postcards from the blogger's collection.

 

Kewaunee County, Ben Franklin & Veterans' Day

Well over 200 years ago founding father Benjamin Franklin said if we give up our liberty for security, we are neither free nor secure. That isn’t the exact quote, but rather the gist of what has been repeated so many ways over all those years. Pearl Harbor survivor Firman Balza says just about the same thing to the groups to which he speaks. It’s as true today as it was during Franklin’s time during the American Revolution. It takes a veteran to be in Franklin’s league!

Kewaunee County’s earliest residents were primarily Germans, Bohemians and Belgians with smatterings of Norwegians, French and Polish. Though most of them had never heard of Ben Franklin at immigration,  Balza’s ancestry surely includes somebody in that mix. Many of the immigrants came from places where nobody talked about giving up liberty because there was so little to give up.

From its earliest days, county citizens were always there to defend that liberty. Joseph McCormick was not a resident of the county in 1834 when he and a party of men from Manitowoc sailed north to explore the (now) Ahnapee River. Wisconsin had not yet achieved territorial status and statehood would take 14 more years. McCormick never envisioned a county named Kewaunee would be created in 1852, and it was 20 years later when he returned to settle on the Kewaunee-Door County line.

McCormick was Maj. Joseph McCormick, veteran of the War of 1812. He is the only known veteran of that war to be buried in Kewaunee County. McCormick served in the Wisconsin Assembly and left his mark. He died in Ahnapee and was buried in the Evergreens in a spot said to be unknown, however his great-grandson Ray Birdsall and Ray’s sister put a stone on the spot some years ago. Birdsall’s ancestors include the Perrys. Matt Perry was a Civil War musician in Co. E. History tells us he fifed “The Girl I Left Behind Me” while the company paraded in the streets of Ahnapee before leaving on the Comet. Another Perry, Ralph, was wounded in the Argonne Forest of France, and died on November 22, 1918. The Record Herald said Perry gave his life to end the world domination ambition of the “German junker.” Following his family line, Mr. Birdsall is also a veteran

German immigrants Magnus Haucke and Henry Baumann both served in the Civil War. Haucke enlisted in Milwaukee and Baumann was a Kewaunee County conscript. At the war’s end, Haucke joined his family which had relocated to Ahnapee sometime earlier. Baumann arrived in Wolf River in 1854. The two met when Haucke began courting Baumann’s daughter. Both men continued service to their country by giving to their community on the village council, in the first fire department, political nominating committees and more. They took the opportunities to participate in Wisconsin Civil War encampments. Neither enjoyed robust health following the war and both died early deaths. Kewaunee County’s first Civil War enlistment was that of Chauncey Thayer who also returned. Sixty-five county men died in the war, almost twice as many dying of disease than wounds.

On June 6, 1890, Kewaunee County Board passed a motion to erect a monument to those who had served in the Civil War. Irving Elliot, the county’s last surviving Civil War veteran, lived 38 years following the monument’s dedication on Memorial Day 1899. By the time the Civil War monument was built on the courthouse grounds, the Spanish American War was over and the monument honored the service of those men too. Few from the county fought in that war.

World War l was supposed to be the war to end all wars, but it was not. The Civil War’s Magnus Haucke was Ernest Haucke’s uncle. Ernest’s father was Magnus’ step-brother. Magnus came home but Ernest, left, was the county’s first World War l casualty. Anna Mae Kochmich left teaching for nursing, entering the Reserve Corp of Nurses at Fort Oglethorpe in December 1918. She contracted influenza and died of pneumonia on January 19. As far as anybody knows, she was the first Kewaunee County woman to die while serving in a military capacity. Spanish Flu was sweeping the world and men died in camp before they ever went abroad. Ernest Haucke lived on when American Legion Post 236 was chartered in 1919 and named for him. V.F.W. Post 3392 is named for Perry.
 

Ernest Dionne served on the Western Front in France and brought this silk handkerchief home to his mother who was born in Lille, France. The city in the northwest corner of France was located in French Flanders and on the Western Front during World War l. .

 

Hostak-Novak Post 7152 was named for World War ll men, Norman Hostak and Robert Novak, who were killed in action. Novak’s son and daughter were in grade school with classmates who knew their dad had been killed in the war. Classmates had no idea what it was like to grow up without a dad or to have a mom who was the sole support of the family. Though World War ll altered society, it was a society not kind to women.

Mahlon Dier and Tommy Lang were AHS seniors who had turned 18 and completed their high school courses by the end of the first semester. The young men who were part of the football team in the fall were drafted in spring and never went through graduation ceremonies with their classmates. It wasn’t long before Tommy was killed. Mahlon came home. Because of the paper shortage, Dier’s class didn’t have a school annual, or yearbook. For their 60^th reunion, Dier created one.

Rich Johnson was part of his family’s commercial fishing business before he enlisted in the Navy. Even as a youngster it was not unusual for him to pilot the tug in the fury of Lake Michigan or through its dense fogs. Serving on the Admiral’s flagship, Rich was the lowest member of the bridge watch, the grunt who ran for coffee and carried messages. In a period of heavy seas when the wheelman couldn’t keep the ship on course, Rich volunteered to do it. The Admiral must have had it as he told Rich to take the wheel. No doubt the more senior members of the watch expected a calamity but the young Wisconsin fisherman did indeed hold the ship on course. From then on Rich served as the Admiral’s coxswain when he went go upriver for drinks in the Philippines.

Navy man Frank Schmidt, another commercial fisherman, experienced a horror later seen in movie newsreels. The atomic bomb was being tested in the Pacific and Schmidt volunteered to serve on an observation vessel. He witnessed the total destruction before the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Ed Goetz was training fighter pilots in Alabama. When the U.S. began running out of pilots, Goetz got his notice to leave for combat duty, however he never went because President Truman ordered the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Ed says Truman saved his life. He’ll be 100 on Christmas Eve!

Men enlisted and many more were drafted. Some women enlisted. After the war men got G.I. benefits. The women who served got nothing until Congress decided they had actually contributed and awarded them benefits a few years later. With so many men gone, women stepped into positions that they’d never before held. In addition, women had to keep the home fronts going. Gardens were needed in the Food for Victory programs. Women were encouraged to knit, to roll bandages and to take nursing courses that would help within the community. Lacking today’s conveniences such as indoor plumbing, women took care of the children, kept house, sewed clothing and recycled everything there was to recycle. The only thing different about women in World War ll was that they were also expected to serve in manufacturing jobs, and working married women was largely unknown in Kewaunee County.

Then came Korea. Some call it the forgotten war but maybe it is not understood. The baby boomers and those a little older were in school during that war. It wasn’t history then; it was happening and wasn't in textbooks. Though North Korea is one of the world’s poorest economies, it has the world’s largest standing army and quite frequently makes news rattling its sabers. The U.S. protected South Korea which today is an educated country that enjoys a good economy while being one of the world’s most wired countries. Lyle Brandt, Henry Hohne, Harvey Kudick gave their lives in Korea. Korean War veterans Lloyd Nimmer and Jerry Simonar were two Kewaunee County Korean War veterans nominated with pride for an Honor Flight to Washington.

Algoma residents Jack Rush, Roger Kostka and Steve Perlewitz were killed in action in Vietnam. They are remembered on the wall in Washington, D.C. and were remembered with photos and biographies on the wall created for L-Z Lambeau, a wall also exhibited in the rotunda in the capitol in Madison. Wisconsin Public Television is spearheading an effort to find a picture for every Wisconsin man killed in Vietnam. The pictures will be part of an interactive display in the Vietnam memorial in Washington. Two other Algoma men, Gary Mertens and Bryan Wolter, both lost their lives on active duty, however not in Vietnam.

Since Vietnam, the U.S. has seen other military actions in places such as Grenada and Somalia. There was the first Gulf War which was followed by another in Iraq and Afghanistan. Luxemburg-Casco grads Jesse Thiry and Dean Opicka gave their lives for Iraqi freedom.

Algoma, Carlton, Casco, Kewaunee and Luxemburg all have American Legion Posts full of veterans who remember. They don’t ramble on about themselves or sacrifices they made but they do work toward helping and educating others. To not have been in the military is to not completely understand. Ben Franklin talked about liberty. It is the vets who have given us what we enjoy today. The vets remember. They know who didn’t come back. They know who was a P.O.W., giving them their space, their privacy and their due. The vets understand the issues of mental and physical health, employment and homelessness among the younger veterans while Washington pays lip service and dismisses

Ben Franklin also said, ”Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do.” Mr. Balza knows that too, but he doesn’t remind those to whom he speaks.

Picture credits: McCormick stone, T. Duescher; paintings, N. Johnson; Jacksonville National Cemetery photograph by blogger.
Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald; In From the Fields, c. 1995.

Bicycling & the Wheelmen of Kewaunee County

Last spring Wisconsin Magazine of History carried an article on cycling. Well before 1900, bicycling had swept Europe and was catching on in  the U.S.  As the 1907 Kewaunee postmarked postcard photo attests, fashionable wheelman were sweeping Kewaunee County too.

History tells us the first bicycles arrived in Wisconsin in 1869. While the things looked a little unusual, they had larger front wheel than back, a seat and handlebars and did bear a resemblance to what we know today. Racing was obviously big in Europe as a November 1878 Record reported that the English were “running mad” with regard to bicycling. The driving wheel was 8’ tall and the rider rode at the height of lamp posts, No doubt there was more than a little laughter when the rider needed to grasp those lampposts to dismount. According to the article, courage was only outdone by dexterity when the bike got up to speed.

Describing itself as a bicycling and tricycling literature publication, The Wheelman magazine began offering premiums in an effort to increase it's subscriber base. Those bringing in 50 subscribers would receive a Nicholas Toy Co. 42” bicycle, but the jackpot was a Columbia Tricycle* for anyone bringing in 180 subscribers.  Most interesting  of the various classes of bicycles offered was the St. Nicholas bicycle. Columbia had a big name and when the company’s 1888 business calendar was out, the Sturgeon Bay Independent gushed about the novel, convenient publication. The paper pointed to “new and fresh quotations pertaining to cycling from leading publications.” Nearly every page had quotations illustrating the popularity all over the world and prominent writers stood out.

At the same time the National Cycling Association was selecting exceptional riders from the ranks of the League of American Wheelmen to act as officials for a cash prize meet. Offering sizable prizes was an inducement to amateur wheelmen. Wisconsin was a hub of bicycling activity and the state league even hosted an event at Ripon. Just how many Kewaunee County bicycle enthusiasts took part does not appear to have been recorded.

Ahnapee’s popular  Molle Bicycle Shop stood on Steele Street, on the spot remembered as Timble’s Barbershop and now occupied by Community Improvement Association, also called “Main Street.” John Molle was a racer, and sporting events included bicycle racing. During the summer of 1885, a three-day meet was held in Marinette with riders the paper called “fleet” and “well-known.” Molle was good, however the country really took notice in November 1890 when Samuel Hollingsworth of Greenfield, Indiana broke all records, riding his bicycle an astounding 281 ½ miles in 24 hours.

Bicycles even had an application in the Army, or so it was proposed by Capt. Moes of the 21^st Infantry. In an 1897 article appearing in the Evening Star,** Moes felt bicycles could replace horses as bicycles would be faster than horses on good roads. He felt they could be more easily hidden than horses. Moes' idea was shot down because bad roads would render bicycles inefficient though Moes felt the solution was using both. That was 20 years before the U.S. entered what came to be called World War l. When the U.S. entered World War ll in December 1941, the army had more horses than tanks. Bicycles never made it as big as Moes had thought.

Though Moes’ idea about bicycles in the military didn’t fly, mail carrier Harry Herman knew they worked for mail. In May 1898 Herman used his wheel to carry mail from Algoma to Sandy Bay, a 40 mile round trip. Herman felt bicycles would make the trip easier and faster and he proved it. Leaving Sandy Bay at 1, he arrived back in Algoma at 3. It didn't equal Herman's feat, but it was newsworthy three months later when Frank Elliott rode his bicycle ten miles to Kewaunee one day and returned the next. In 1906 Door County Superintendent of Schools W. L.Damkoehler also made news when he visited the schools throughout the county on his bicycle, feeling it was much more economical than feeding and caring for a horse.

Kewaunee County's fair offered bicycle racing competition in 1895. Open to county men only, Molle took 2^nd in the one mile race while his nemesis Joseph Gottstein came in 4^th. Then Molle won first in a race open to all. If Gottstein raced that time, he didn’t place. In the three mile race, Molle again won while Gottstein came in 7th, which was last place.

The rivalry that developed between Molle and Gottstein came to a head in October 1895 when Molle put up $25 to race Gottstein in Sturgeon Bay. Gottstein countered that he liked Kewaunee and that Kewaunee, Manitowoc or Green Bay were his choices for a race. Others put up additional money and Molle’s friends felt he could beat Gottstein any time and since it didn’t matter where, Molle should meet him halfway.

April 1899 brought out Algoma’s bicyclers who had to keep on Steele St. because other streets were too muddy. The editor noted all the new wheels and said the bicycle craze hadn’t left Algoma. Cycling was not only a gentleman’s activity. As early as 1878 it was said women were approaching the sport timidly but it was gaining favor for exercise. At the time, men wore riding habits but women did not. Then came the French cycling gown, a simple gray tweed jacket and skirt with a white flannel bodice. Gaiters matched the dress while the cap matched the blouse. Part of cycling was a fashion show. An 1893 Sturgeon Bay Democrat reported on a Massachusettes' woman who rode around New England with the zeal of a missionary while lecturing to advance the cause of cycling.

Then came the laws. Bicyclists were expected to obey the laws of the road. Collisions were commonplace and cities regulated speed. Wheelmen were advised to be respectful of others as failing to adhere to the rules gave all bicyclists a bad name.  Bicyclists were to watch for horses which, not being accustomed to such sights, could easily cause injury. They were advised to watch for pedestrians, also to avoid injury. When Otto Haack of Rio Creek broke his arm following a fall from his bicycle, it was news. Perhaps it happened because his cousin Leo was riding the handlebars. Otto and Leo were brought to Dr. McMillian’s office in what is now the Rouseabout on the northwest corner of 4^th and Clark in Algoma. Otto’s arm was set. Leo’s broken toe must have been quite serious because the paper mentioned that amputation was not necessary.

Algoma residents have been bicyclists for the past 140 years. Baseball has been around a little longer. The interest in both does not appear to be waning.

"Late for a Date"

The metal sculpture adjacent to the parking lot at Manitowoc's Rahr Art Museum was taken by the blogger.

Ahnapee was renamed Algoma in 1897. It began as Wolf River and renamed Ahnepee in 1859. The place was spelled incorrectly - by the state and federal governments as well - so often that in 1873, townspeople decided if they couldn't beat 'em, they'd join 'em and Ahnepee became Ahnapee.

*An online check indicates Columbia Tricycles were first advertised in 1883. Nicholas Toy Co. seems to have begun advertising its bicycles a year later. Online photos of the St. Nicholas bikes show a huge front wheel and a very small rear wheel. Some of the three-wheeled tricycles look like miniature carriages with two larger wheels in back with a seating platform between. Other tricycles are reminiscent of today’s though have a far different wheel configuration.

** A Milwaukee newspaper.

Sources: Ahnapee Record; An-An-api-Ssbe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; Evening Wisconsin; Sturgeon Bay Democrat; Sturgeon Bay Independent.

John Cashman, Politician: A Progressive Legacy

In a certain sense John Cashman’s life had a government association right from the beginning. His parents William and Hannah Cashman patented the property on which he was born – now on Kewaunee County Highway V  -  in 1858 when the town was called Fredrickton. By the time John was born in November 1865, he was their 8^th child and the town was renamed Franklin.

John Cashman attended school in Franklin, going on to Valparaiso University before returning to teach in Kewaunee and Brown Counties. His teaching career does not appear to be chronicled, however the Montpelier 1957 Centennial Book lists Cashman as the first teacher at Pilsen School in 1891, and an autograph book found by historian J. Biebel suggests he taught in Casco during 1885. Among the book’s most interesting signatures is that of William E. Minahan, who went down with the Titanic. Other autographs included that of Minahan’s brother J.R. for whom St. Norbert (DePere) college stadium and science building are named. The Minahans and brother Hugh are well associated with Kewaunee County. Ransom Moore, “The Father of 4-H,” Eddie Decker, son of Edward, and Burke, Frawley, Erichsen, DeWane and Finnel were among the other names found.

Cashman was a well-known farmer when in 1901 he won a civil service position as a meat inspector in the Bureau of Animal Industry in the Department of Agriculture, a Chicago job paying $1,200 a year. From there he went to the Internal Revenue Service. Making good use of the additional educational opportunities the city offered, he earned a law degree via night school. Within a few years of returning to his Town of Franklin farm in 1919, he ran for elected office. In that first attempt at politics in 1922, he was elected to the state senate representing Door, Kewaunee, and Manitowoc counties, an office he held for most of his life, leaving briefly in the 1930s during an unsuccessful attempt to run as the Democratic candidate for Congress. Two years following his first election, Governor Blaine appointed Cashman to the University of Wisconsin Board of Regents. It was his failing health in 1946 that prompted him to withdraw his name from the election. He died soon afterward.

Cashman was a political Progressive who had a significant impact on Wisconsin and on the nation beyond. He was a LaFollette delegate to the national convention in 1924 and, as so many other Progressives, he was an isolationist. Cashman stood out as an orator, winning prizes for his orations while taking his law classes in Chicago. That ability brought him even national attention when in 1923 he sought legislation to abolish Wisconsin school textbooks containing pro-British interpretations on the American Revolution. He was back at it during the 1930s when he again worked toward abolishing pro-British texts on the causes for World War l, again from Wisconsin schools.

While Cashman campaigned for LaFollette, one of his stops included Algoma where he was introduced to residents and businessmen by Highway Commissioner Moses Shaw. Speaking from an automobile parked at the Union Oil Station,* Cashman said LaFollette’s record had been carefully examined over a period of 35 years and the only thing anyone could begin to criticize was LaFollette’s war record, but, as Cashman pointed out, the war was over. Cashman continued telling listeners that LaFollette was poor and couldn’t afford to put posters on every street corner.

It isn’t clear if comments on LaFollette's finances were believed, but residents did agree that it was up to every man to take his wife to the polls. When Cashman went on to say that women voters were just like men,” only better,” he was surely courting women, most of whom would be voting in their first presidential election. Wisconsin was one of the first three states to pass the 19^th Amendment, which was ratified in August 1920. Securing the woman's vote was as important then as it is today.

Cashman told the crowd on the corner that while most countries had a ruling king, those in the U.S. could think for themselves. He pointed out that farmers were so busy they didn’t have time to think, but if they did not, corporations would do it for them. He praised Governor Blaine saying that he did away with secrecy laws, thus exposing tax dodgers and tax frauds.

John Cashman is credited with writing the bill authorizing the tax on gasoline to pay for road construction. The current 2014 Wisconsin race for governor has brought that tax to the fore. According to Biebel, it was Cashman who got the bill passed which authorized construction of DePere’s Claude Allouez Bridge in 1932.That bridge was torn down within recent years, following the building of a new bridge.  Cashman drew national attention in the mid-1930’s when his bill restricting the sale of colored oleomargarine and taxing it, in Wisconsin, was passed. As late as the 1960s some Algoma still residents drove to the Illinois border to purchase yellow oleo, something available in any store today.

Cashman was politically progressive even beyond being a part of the Progressive party. Some would say he took the bull by the horns, though historian R. Selner said he also used his fists. Devoting his life to politics and protecting farming, Cashman made an impact. He didn’t appear to take the easy way out and certainly didn’t speak in the vague sound-bite manner of politicians 65 years after his death. When Algoma Record Herald reported on Cashman's retirement in May 1946, his stormy political career was noted in the large-type headline. The paper editorialized that when Cashman was elected in 1922, he "owned the most vitriolic tongue in the legislature." The article continued saying, "A sure way to start a fight with Cashman was to suggest lowering or reducing the oleo tax."

Anybody compiling a list of Wisconsin’s Lake Michigan shore counties in order of supposed importance would probably rank Kewaunee County dead last. It is the only lake shore county lacking TV or radio stations or a major newspaper outlet, but it does beat the others having more cows than people. And there are few places in the U.S. can match that cow-human ratio! Even so, Cashman stood out as so many other Kewaunee County residents have, and, just as so many others, he has faded into history. The legacy is there. Memories of names and dates are not.

*The station was on the southwest corner of 4^th and Steele, remembered by most as Meyers’ Deep Rock.Union sold to Deep Rock about the time of Cashman's speech.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald articles; Commercial Development in Algoma, WI c. 2006; Interviews with J. Biebel & R. Selner, 2008; John Cashman papers in the Area Archives at UW-Green Bay; Kewaunee County News, (blogger's article) 2008; Montpelier 1957 Centennial Book.

Ahnapee Town & the Best Deer Hunting Ever

Today, more than 50 years after this photo was taken, deer hunters would be aghast at such a sight. This picture is impressive by any hunter’s standards. The men were all friends, relatives or those who lived in the neighborhood. Aunt Tillie clipped it from a newspaper – probably Algoma Record Herald* - possibly during the later 1950s. Tillie clipped everything of interest to her over a forty or so year period, but unfortunately she didn’t date or source much.

When 34 deer were harvested by 34 Kewaunee County men, the men felt they experienced the best hunting in Wisconsin. They probably did. Most impressive was that 21 of the deer were harvested on Thanksgiving afternoon on the Art Wilke farm north of Algoma on Highway S. Wilke’s farm was a normal sized farm for the period, not one of the mega farms one finds in the county today. How 21 deer were harvested in a few hours on 80 acres was the story that didn’t survive.

Though not all hunters are on the picture above and 13 of the deer were already butchered, the picture tells more than a thousand words. A close up reveals a few grins but most of the men are trying to look serious, rather than reveling in what should be bragging rights.  Standing are Art Wilke, Tom Perry, Wilfred Grundemann, Sylvester Uecker, Ed Fiala, Walter Kussow, B. Shaw, Pat Kirchman, Zeb Shaw, Dr. Rudolph Dobry, Albert Prust, Pete Perry, Argene Leischow, Henry Muench and Charles Prausa. Kneeling are Walter Wilke, Homan Shaw, Henry Diefenbach, Frank Kruswick and Lawrence Harmann.

A little over 50 years earlier, in 1901, The Algoma Record boasted the hunting prowess of Algoma men when it reported that Algoma was “never backward” and its men had nearly 1/5^th of the Kewaunee County hunting licenses. The article seemed to imply that County Clerk Valecka was a little bored filling out which must have gotten to be the same old, same old. Based on Algoma's population, those 75 licenses reflected in a significant percentage of eligible males hunting.

With so much activity within Kewaunee County, one wonders why residents even bothered to go “up north,” but they did. Early papers pointed to the numbers of deer in northern counties while also pointing to regulations and what would happen to one ignoring the laws that included number of deer to be taken, transportation of the deer and the use of dogs. While dogs were generally prohibited in the hunt, there were those advocating their use. Thoughts were that wounded deer often move on and weren’t found, only to die further into the woods. Using dogs would ensure wounded deer would indeed be found. When the law allowed only one deer, there were those who felt taking fawns met the letter of the law. That required a rewrite. Some were concerned that if does were taken, depletion in overall numbers would follow. Another rewrite advised not shooting unless antlers were clearly visible. Fruit growers objected to most of the harvesting regulations because the deer were killing their fruit trees and thus their livelihood. Between 1895 and at least 1913, the Legislature also provided for a spring deer hunt. Metal tags sky-rocketed to 10 cents in 1920. The papers told about unheard of numbers of deer in a section of Ontario, Canada, however those going to Canada were subject to greater restrictions.

Hunters found Canada attractive in 1920 because the state Conservation Commission was in favor of a closed November hunt. Kewaunee County reflected the state with nearly a 100% jump in requests for hunting licenses from 1918 to 1919. It is possible such a jump also reflected the meatless meals and the hunger for meat during World War l, when much of the supply went to the military. The Commission felt that a 1919 hunt would tragically affect Wisconsin’s deer populations and possibly wipe deer from the state. Mentioned were the appalling numbers of carcases at railroad stations in northern Wisconsin. Commission wardens estimated more than 25,000 deer were killed and that was unsustainable. It felt that those who delighted in hunting would see that chapter of life closed. Though over 65,000 licenses were sold in 1920, the Commission’s mandated a one buck law for 1920 resulted in a huge falling off in the numbers of deer harvested.

A few years earlier – in 1912 – Algoma Record reminisced that only a few years before the county’s deer were more plentiful than rabbits were that year and that deer had gone the way of the buffalo and pigeons. The paper predicted a time when hunting licenses would be mere memories. Today's hunters - thankful that the predictions of 100 years ago didn't come to pass - are gearing up for another season. Blaze orange clothing is airing on clotheslines and hunters are among the few waiting for snow.
 

Just as today, accidents and heart attacks killed hunters. In 1905 the Baltimore Sun appeared to be making sport of the 16 Wisconsin hunters who died in the woods while saying, “It looks as if the deer have the laugh on their pursuers.” That's something nobody is waiting for.

 

 *The clipping came from a newspaper and Algoma Record Herald seems most obvious because of the photo’s location. However the picture is not found in the newspaper’s files at Algoma Public Library. It is possible that the picture was taken by a family member and submitted to the paper.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald.

 

Algoma and the Telephone Party Lines

“1 2 1 2 F 1 3, Please.” That was Aunt Friday’s phone number in the day of party lines. The “please” was a courtesy to the operator who connected the proper wires. It was a time when neighbors knew that three longs and a short belonged to the family across the field and two shorts and two longs belonged to the family across the road. Everybody with a telephone shared a line with 8 or 12 other families. Each knew all the long and short rings and everybody knew who was getting a call. There was no such thing as metadata. There were neighbors keeping track of calls. If one long and one short had an illness in the family, those who heard the ring picked up to listen so they'd know what was going on. If food or assistance with milking would help, somebody came over, but not because they were told there was a need. If there was a death, family troubles or a scandal in a family, the grapevine passed it on posthaste. Listening in was not only a way to get the news, it was also a passtime.

It was a time when city lines were shared with 4 families. To make a call, one needed to pick up the receiver and listen a bit, ensuring that ringing the operator would not interrupt the call of another. That meant accidentally - or not - being privy to conversations. It also meant that kids wished they could understand German as the adults using the phone instantly switched language. Kids all knew the good stuff was discussed in German.

Phone numbers in Algoma were much shorter than Aunt Friday’s though. Anybody wanting to call Katch’s Department Store would simply tell the operator,  ”26X, Please.” If the wires were accidentally crossed and 26R was plugged in, the caller would get Clarice and have to place the call again. 53M got Agnes and 53R got Annie. Agnes and Annie were on the same line. They often called each other, but the operator had to connect them. When it was time to ring off - because Agnes or Annie’s ringer was not on and other callers got a busy signal - the women hung up. Hanging up was replacing the ear piece receiver back on the main part of the phone so another call could be placed. If that receiver was just a tiny bit off, the phone would be off the hook and preventing calls from coming through. Nobody dreamed of voice mail and nothing short of death in the family meant calling outside of one's home area. 

All the aunts and uncles lived in rural areas and were fortunate that wires came down their roads. Uncle Charlie’s phone was the best. It was on the landing between the downstairs and upstairs. No 1^st and 2^nd floor in those days. The wide landing had a north facing window with a rocking chair, a huge Boston fern and the big wall telephone. One stood next to the phone holding the receiver while speaking clearly into the protruding mouthpiece. Anybody under  5’ tall needed a stool to reach the mouthpiece. Kids didn’t play with it, perhaps because younger children weren't tall enough even with the stool or lacked the strength to turn the crank that notified central, which was what the operator was called. That was in the 1940s, but telephones made their appearance in Ahnapee/Algoma decades earlier, before 1900, when residents wondered why most would ever need such a thing.

Communication with the outside world was definitely on the minds of Ahnapee’s early progressive citizens though. A July 1865 Enterprise reported the Atlantic cable was nearly laid. Tariffs were being estimated and stock was selling at a premium. In the early 1880s, the Record reprinted a story from the Sturgeon Bay Advocate describing the telephone lines going between Green Bay and Sturgeon Bay via Ahnapee and Casco. The community looked forward to a telephone connection with Kewaunee in late spring, but it took until May 1891 before a line to Alaska was finished. It was called "a great convenience to the public." A few years later, in October 1897, telephone company Manager G.W. Overbeck announced the addition of a small room adjoining the main telephone exchange office. It was fitted with a telephone for the use of patrons, enabling them to connect with telephone lines to the "outside world." Years later, those telephone rooms would be only large enough for one person and referred to as a phone booth, which, before the days of wireless, truly was a great convenience.

By 1903, Algoma had an impressive 64 telephones and the August 14, 1903 paper announced the first telephone books. One hundred years later, the proliferation of cell phones with instant access and storage of numbers brought the beginning of the demise of phone books.

DeWayne Stebbins was a man of stature in pre-1900 Algoma. A Civil War vet, bank cashier, postmaster, Ahnapee Record editor/publisher and finally Wisconsin Assemblyman, Stebbins' importance to the community was noted in a September 1883, news article pointing out the "telephone instrument" at the Bank of Ahnapee and that "now the Honorable D.W. Stebbins can communicate with the outside world without leaving his office."  “Big Steb” was on the cusp of change that years later brought the end of isolation to rural families such as Aunt Friday’s. That change caused a young man to quake in his boots making a call to see if a girl would go to the dance at Alaska, rather than depending on a post card. The changes enabled Agnes and Annie to phone Katch’s or the Farmers Co-op Store to send out a 100# bag of flour. The changes brought a new world to the handicapped. The changes brought the rescue squad and the fire department in an emergency. One hundred years ago parents were concerned about what young people were getting into when they wanted to use the phone. Some things never change and parents today still worry about what the young are getting into with cell phones.

When DeWayne Stebbins was making a call in 1883, he might have been overheard by someone in the immediate area, but having the only telephone in town, there was no party line and nobody to “listen in.” There was no metadata either. One hundred thirty years later, few can imagine the privacy and anonymity that Stebbins enjoyed. 

Information comes from An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River? c.2001 and Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol. 1, c. 2006. Photos are from the commercial history and used with permission.

Kewaunee County Poor Farm

Within six years of statehood, poor houses existed in 22 of Wisconsin’s (then) 58 counties. In 1854 filthy bedding and foul odors were common in such places. That was in addition to a lack of privacy and a lack of ventilation. Housed primarily were the aged, the mentally and physically handicapped, and mothers with children for whom they could not provide. Some lived there temporarily while others were there to die. Wolf River’s Matt Simon was there because of business reverses. Called the “Aristocrat of the North Side,” Simon was elected to Wisconsin’s Assembly in 1858. One would not expect a man of his stature to be in a poor house.

During its first few years, Kewaunee County had two houses for the poor, the first poor farm being in the original Town of Casco. A few years later, it was relocated to the site of the Rushford post office, now the location of Grace Lutheran Church at Alaska in Pierce Town, the location at which it remained until the doors closed over 100 years later.

Physical privacy was non-existent and nothing was confidential. Lists of those living at the poor farm, or receiving any kind of assistance, regularly appeared in the county’s papers and in the minutes of the county board. If testimony was necessary, it was common knowledge. Between 1878 and 1905 Kewaunee County Clerk’s Committee on the Poor kept records that remain today. In the 1870s that committee consisted of Patrick McConnell, George Bottkol and Vojta Mashek. Their charge was to “regulate the support of a family by accident or different circumstances” to be admitted. A family did not usually mean both parents and children, but did refer to a husband and wife or to a woman with children.

Postmarked 1915

When Anton Gauthier presented a committee report on September 30, 1877, he said the county was responsible for the insane and idiots - 1 and 9 respectively - and non-resident paupers, while pointing out that each town supported its own poor. The farm’s overseer was paid $550. While the salary might seem fair for the time, the overseer had to furnish a team and farm implements. Not only that, his wife’s work was included in his salary. The woman whose industry was regarded as of so little value was as important as her husband, and often more so, in insuring the success of the farm. At the time a hired man was being paid 20 a month while a hired girl got $1.75 a week. Additionally, Gauthier noted that the wood house could hold 20 cords. The farm had 120 acres, 70 of which were improved and it was said the place was worth $6,850. Land was valued at $4,500, the buildings at $2,000, furniture at $150 and livestock at $200. County Board proceedings listed all the bills, sundries, wood, animals, and everything else one could think of including the fish from commercial fisherman Peter LaFond. Included in the lengthy pages of inventory were such things as curtains, bowls and spoons.

March 1878 brought need for a superintendent who, the board felt, must be a “heavy taxpayer of well known integrity and possess good business qualifications.” Two months later, May 1878, the Committee on the Poor furnished its report for clothing and keeping. There were 18 people, 5 of whom were under the age of 10. Planning for additional residents before winter, the board felt a two-story, 23’ x 30’ addition was required. The addition would be in front of the main building and cost about $500.

Doctors were paid for assessing residents’ physical and mental health. In March 1881, resident John Altan was judged insane and was taken to the state hospital near Oshkosh. Today medication and counseling would have been the first step in addressing his needs.  Altan’s name does not appear among Kewaunee County men serving in the Civil War though it is possible that he did indeed serve. In reading the old papers, there are a number of men – and women – who were sent to the Oshkosh asylum to deal with the blood, amputations, death and privations of the war. Some could not rid themselves of such demons. One hundred years later medical science treats those diagnosed with depression, bi-polar or another illness much differently.

John Spitka apparently had an amputation because when he was sent to Milwaukee for shoes, it was to the Manufacturer of Legs. Spitka’s conscientious was noted in the September 1887 proceedings when the Committee on the Poor consisted of Lorence Lutz, Fred Johannes and Dennis Sullivan. They attested to the number of times they visited the poor farm, consistently finding the place clean and well lit. In May they brought material for brooms that Spitka was making.  When they gave the September report, they had picked up the brooms that were sold for $7.41. It was then that improvements were mentioned – a new fence, addition to house yard and the need a new stove.

Others, other than poor farm staff and doctors, were compensated for care that extended beyond the farm. Red River’s chairman Joe Valcq was paid $120 in the matter of Mary Lancelle on March 21, 1882. Matter was not defined. Other residents were widows or widowers, often elderly,who were without families, a population which today has access to assisted living facilities or nursing homes. Minutes in December 1908 reported that members of the poor farm board had visited each person caring for an “insane or idiotic” person. It would appear many were paid for caring for their own family members, possibly aged parents. In 1908, the Committee recommended compensation to those caring for others at home. William Flaherty cared for Horace Flaherty and William Bacon kept Mathilda Bacon. Each received $100 a year for his efforts. Martin Wachal cared for Martin Wachal, Jr. and got $80. David Sconset kept Louisa Sconset for $75 and Catherine Colle was paid $54 to keep Mary Colle. Some were called feeble-minded.  It is quite possible those called insane, idiotic or feeble-minded were suffering from what in the 1950s was called hardening of the arteries. Sixty years later dementia and Alzheimer’s describe some of the same behaviors.

Residents lived at the poor home for a number of reasons. The prominent Matt Simon was a Catholic Wolf River resident who gave the land for that church. He didn’t forget his fellow Germans when he also donated land to the Lutheran congregation. Simon was a Wisconsin Assemblyman who, a few years later, lost his money because Milwaukee parties failed to pay him for substantial wood products’ sales. Family members were not paupers. Was a man who did so much for others, in essence, hung out to dry? It was really Simon himself, also in ill health, who asked to enter the institution in July 1884. In reading a number of histories and proceedings, Simon’s circumstances become even more curious.

Simon’s first wife bore 14 children before dying in 1871. While working in Madison in 1880 he remarried and fathered 4 more children.  A Record article on June 21, 1894 informed readers that the Simon’s four young children were taken from Ahnapee, inferring that they would be residing in orphanages . Father Adalbert Cipin took the two young daughters to a Catholic school in Green Bay and J. McDonald represented the Committee on the Poor when he took the two boys to the State School for Dependent Children at Sparta.  Simon was 88 when he died in 1914. Though his obit listed his survivors, it was noted that the whereabouts of children from the second marriage were unknown.

In a 2004 personal interview with Kewaunee’s much respected Dr. Reynold Nesemann, he said that the poor farm served a purpose that was (today) dealt with in medication. He talked about those who were alone and what happens without communication and a sense of being needed and belonging. He said that everyone at the poor farm had a job to do. Physical condition determined the kind of work. Whether one helped with milking, caring for animals or the land, or whether it was cooking, cleaning or washing, it was work that served the group. Each person had value and each was a cog in a wheel. One hundred years later, many of these same people would fall through the cracks and become homeless.

Then there were the children. They were there with mothers unable to provide for them. Today many would be homeless. While children are eligible for programs through the schools, homelessness is a stigma that the average teen keeps quiet. But, the number of children called “idiots” on the poor farm list, and thus listed in the U.S. census roles, is questionable. Why were they so identified? In today’s world, if someone is called an idiot, one ascribes another’s actions to something totally ridiculous, foolish or without any thought to ramifications. Time has changed the word’s implication.

For some years, the word “idiot” was regarded as pejorative. Psychology now uses the term “profound intellectual disability” when describing one with a mental age below three years and one generally unable to learn connected speech or guard against common dangers. Following a few children living at the poor farm and listed as idiots on the census indicates they grew to be successful adults. If such children were intellectually disabled to the point that circumstances of the day required such notation, how could those children have achieved the success they did?  Is it possible delayed speech or severe stuttering could have labeled them? Would a physical deformity bring such a label? Would young children be so painfully shy in such circumstances that they were so labeled?

In reading such reports, one must keep a historical perspective and an open mind. Things are not always what they seem to be at first glance.

Today’s definition of “idiot” comes from Dictionary.com and from Wikepedia.

Sources: Minutes of the County Board found at the ARC at UW-GB and Ahnapee Record. HIPPA laws prevent one from reading reading actual files poor farm files at the ARC, however, most of the same information can be gleaned from the Kewaunee County Board proceedings and in the county newspapers. The photo of Grace Lutheran was taken by the blogger and the Poor Farm postcard comes from the blogger's collection. Here Comes the Mail: Post Offices of Kewaunee County, c. 2010 Kannerwurf, Sharpe, Johnson.

Algoma & the Generals MacArthur

Kewaunee County played a significant role in World War ll, though as that generation passes away few realize how the Lake Michigan counties of Northeast Wisconsin were so wrapped up in defense.  Manitowoc, Kewaunee and Sturgeon Bay all built large vessels and by Mother’s Day 1944, Kewaunee Shipbuilding and Engineering had launched its 69^th ship, a 176’ cargo and transport vessel built for the Army. Algoma’s role was a bit different.  That role connects to General Douglas MacArthur, one of five World War ll generals to achieve the rank of 5-Star General.

During the war Algoma Plywood and Veneer was manufacturing plywood and building plywood hulls, airplane wings and noses that went elsewhere for finishing.  Some of that plywood is associated with General Douglas MacArthur’s 1942 escape from Bataan. It was Algoma plywood that was used in the PT motor torpedo boat that rescued MacArthur, his wife, their son Arthur and his Chinese nurse, and other military personnel, taking them to Mindanao. From there they went to Australia. Ironically, MacArthur’s father, General Arthur MacArthur, Jr., was also on Luzon, but that was in August 1899, more than 40 years before  when President McKinley sent him there as field commander.

In his 1942 They Were Expendable,* author-historian William L. White described the plywood boats saying,  “An MTB is a plywood speedboat about 70’ long and 30 wide, powered by three Packard marine motors which can send her roaring over the water about as fast as an auto can go over land. So fast, in fact, that the motors should be changed every few hundred hours.”

White continues, “Each boat is armed with four torpedo tubes and four 50-caliber machine guns. There isn’t an ounce of protective armor on them. They’re little eggshells, designed to roar in, let fly a Sunday punch, then speed out, zigzagging to dodge the shells.” Men on PT boats were cited for bravery in the rescue of MacArthur who said, upon landing at Mindanao, that he was giving Silver Stars of Gallantry to every officer and man there.

MacArthur’s first connection with Algoma came over 40 years earlier when he was a student at West Point where he assisted in the design of Algoma’s north pier. The pier has been rebuilt in the last 100 years, but if anyone with MacArthur’s prominence was associated with it, it has been forgotten.

World War l Camp MacArthur at Waco, Texas was named for General Arthur MacArthur, Jr., the General’s father and the man for whom the General’s son was named. Algoma men were among the 1,200 from Wisconsin who trained there, but little did they know that they would have a connection to the name in years that followed. Carl (Josh) Lidral wrote home about the 16 weeks of training the men would have at Camp MacArthur before going off to lick the Kaiser. Ernest Haucke, the first Algoma man killed in action on August 20, 1918 trained at the camp. So did Ralph Perry who later died of wounds suffered in the Argonne Forest. Algoma’s  VFW Post was named for Haucke, and Perry’s family memorialized Ralph in the presentation of Perry Field to the city. John Culligan, Jerry Jerabek and Augie Wasserbach also were at the camp. The men were well-respected leaders just as the MacArthurs were, however the MacArthurs were on a world stage.

History tells us the Generals MacArthur were the country’s only father-son combination awarded Medals of Honor. MacArthur, Jr.’s father was Arthur, Sr. who has the distinction of being Wisconsin’s shortest serving governor due to an election scandal. His 4 or 5 day term as the state’s 4^th governor started and ended in March 1856. Arthur, Jr. entered the Civil War at age 17 and served with the 24^th Wisconsin. So many Kewaunee County men fought in units with his at Chicamaugua, Stones River, Missionary Ridge and Chattanooga. He is credited with planting the flag and shouting “On Wisconsin.” It is likely that some of the men in the Texas camp were sons of those who were in those same Tennessee campaigns.  Whether or not any Algoma connection can be made with Douglas MacArthur’s son Arthur, it is up for grabs. To escape the limelight, it is said he changed his name.

Though the MacArthur connection hardly makes Algoma prominent, the shipbuilding and defense work among the lake shore communities played a part in World War ll. History gets lost as the days turn into years and years turn into decades.

Note: William L. White’s 1942 book was a best seller that is available on Amazon. A few years after publication, it was made into a movie starring John Wayne as Lt. Rusty Ryan. It also starred Robert Montgomery and Donna Reed. The movie ran on cable's TNT and was possibly shown at the Majestic sometime after its 1945 release.  It was essential personnel who were to be evacuated by the torpedo boats. So many men were left. It was that evacuation when MacArthur said, I will return,” a quote that has lived on.

Sources: An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001 Johnson; The Commercial History of Development in Youngs and Steele Plat and Other Selected Properties, c. 2006 Johnson, Nell, Wolske; They Were Expendable, c. 1942 White; Women of the Plywood: The War Years, c. 1998 Johnson. The Plywood postcard is in the blogger's collection. The photo was taken from the bend in the Ahnapee River where the South Branch leaves the main channel. The view is of the lumber piles behind the plant and along the river. Buildings, roof tops and stacks are in the background. A copy is available for purchase from Algoma Public Library.

 Information about Arthur MacArthur, Jr. & Sr. is online, where there is much more available.