Algoma

and
Gold Bond 

Stamps

                                       


Cash back credit cards. Frequent flyer miles. Kohl’s Cash. They're market rewards for brand loyalty. But, how many have heard heard of Gold Bond Stamps or S & H Green Stamps? Grandma prized those good-as-gold little strips of adhesive paper and knew just what she would do when she had her book pasted full.

Gold Bond’s 3 ½ x 5 ½ books had 60 pages, each page having enough space for 30 single stamps or 3 Golden 10 stamps. When the book was filled with the stamps, Grandma collected $3 cash or could use the stamps for purchasing. At introduction in 1938, three bucks was serious money. It was still money in 1960. There are stories of folks who saved enough stamps –with the help of others – to buy a refrigerator.

History tells us such stamps got their start in 1891 at Milwaukee’s Schuster’s Department Store when the earning power of stamps was the reward for not buying on credit. There were no credit cards in those days but merchants kept careful records of what was owed. It was not always “Cash and Carry.” Discouraging credit then was no different than receiving a discount of 4 cents per gallon of gas paid in cash today.

Algoma businessmen introduced the stamps in the April 16, 1948 Record Herald. Merchants banded together to run a full page spread offering the cash dividend stamps as a special discount when purchases were paid in cash, or if accounts were entirely paid off. Stamps were given for any purchase of 10 cents or more and, sweetening the introduction was the 25 free stamps to jump start customers into the program. The stamps said, “Thank you for your patronage.” Not taking advantage of the program was almost like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Ed Blahnik, whose market,was on  Steele Street two doors west of Hotel Stebbins, was one who offered extra stamps as an inducement to buy sale items that were paid in full. S & H Green Stamps came along in 1896, after Schuster’s started the ball rolling. Blue Chip Stamps, Top Value Stamps, Plaid Stamps and others competed, but all rewarded customer loyalty. Gold Bond Stamps appeared first but it was the Green Stamps that beat Gold Bond to Algoma.

On Halloween 1931, the paper carried an ad introducing the Green Stamps. The ad indicated that Green Stamps were a way of letting one’s money work for oneself so one could “Save as you spend – by saving.” It was touted as a “generous discount gladly given” for patronage. A book of the green stamps brought $2.00. The ad went on to say that the green stamps were a real economy and one could think of the stamps as one did the change for a purchase.

Wikipedia says that by 1957, there were about 200 trading stamp companies operating in the U.S. The site further says such stamps grew in the early 1900s with the growth of gas stations. Grocers and other merchandisers followed suit. Trading stamps began fading in the 1970s when credit card and other reward programs came into being. Wikipedia also says that in 2008 the last trading stamp company, Eagle Stamps, went out of business.

How long the stamps continued in Algoma is anyone’s guess. It was estimated in 1947 that 2/3 of American households collected the trading stamps. No doubt Algoma did too.



Sources: Algoma Record Herald; Co, Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol. 1, c. 2006; Wikipedia.

Ad photos from Algoma Record Herald; Gold Bond Stamp book is the blogger's.

Ahnapee, Algoma & Kewaune County: A Jail is a Jail

Kewaunee County Jail and Courthouse, 1914 postmark

Jail, lock-up, hoosegow, slammer, pokey, the clink, calaboose, the joint……… It’s all in a name. Kewaunee County has one. It had one since the 1850s, but not the kind of thing anybody would recognize a century and a half later. Ahnapee/Algoma had one too, but its last resident was sprung about 60 years ago.

During November 1876, Ahnapee Record’s editor DeWayne Stebbins described a trip to Kewaunee to his paper’s readership. The jaunt’s highlight appeared to be a tour given by John Janda, the contractor for the nearly-completed new jail. Stebbins said the facility’s outside was “very prepossessing” and was finished in “the best of style.” He felt the sheriff’s residence was one of the county’s most elegant. He thought the jail looked secure but was too small, a point he made earlier.  He wrote about the 6 cells with modern conveniences such as ventilation and locks. It was Editor Stebbins’ opinion that Janda did a good job. Mentioning a lock as a modern convenience in a jail sounds a bit strange, but there is more to that story. The Committee on the Sheriff’s Residence, Jail and Cistern agreed with Stebbins and in May 1877 Janda was paid for work completed per contract and according to designs.

The county had an even earlier lock-up though. In its first 20 years, there were few notable trials or hardened criminals. The first jail was in place by 1861 and held one accused of murder on the Wolf River docks. The defendant was found guilty – later pardoned by the governor – and held in the county jail until he could be taken to Waupun which, in days of primitive transportation and few roads, was a water route that began on Lake Michigan. While the murderer was waiting for transport, he was held with one serving a term for bastardy. Planning to escape, the men made a sketch of the key and then whittled it out of wood. One can only wonder why prisoners had a knife, but at the last minute it was just the man held for fathering a child who chose to escape. He was quickly apprehended and, realizing the error of his ways or what a jail term was, he decided to do his duty rather than return to the lock-up. The other remained and was eventually taken to Waupun.*

To meet the Legislature’s requirement, Ahnapee constructed a jail even before achieving village status. According to the Enterprise, Ahnapee was doing a brisk law business, however the lawyers were busy with land issues rather than the murders and hold-ups that would have necessitated a jail. To comply with the law, the town raised $100 for jail construction in April 1871. Even though it got little use, Peter Schiesser was paid $65 – roughly 2/3 the cost of the thing - to repair the facility four years later. By April 1885 the jail was in such poor shape that Council insisted the Marshall have the place cleaned and the bedding washed. Apparently the cleaning didn’t help much as barely a few months later, in June, Council felt a new jail was badly needed and opened bids. That came a little less than 10 years after the county built its new jail.

The jail is at the left of this 1936 Record Herald photo.

In early December the Record reported that the new city jail was completed and was nearly ready for holiday boarders. Iron cells would be installed as soon as the interior plastering and other work was finished. Tongue in cheek, the paper said I.W. Elliott, the man in charge, was an accommodating landlord should anyone wish to make a reservation. That jail was built on State Street east of and adjoining the engine house, the site on which the jail stayed until the current fire department building was constructed. Jag Haegele, in a 2006 interview, said that the jail entertained school boys who enjoyed walking past and jumping up to peer into the window.  They always knew who was sleeping it off. 

It appears the late 1880's building had its own problems from the beginning and that Council got tired of repairing it. When Wulf and Leiberg repaired the roof in July 1892, they were required to give a five-year written guarantee.

Whatever was wrong with the roof then, it was worse in 1922 when the city had a most creative jail break. It happened while a section hand from the Ahnapee and Western Railroad was cooling his heels. The fellow had been arrested on 2^nd Street about 11:30 one Saturday night. As so many others over the years, the man was drunk, disorderly, in jail and awaiting a police justice. On Sunday morning when Officer Gericke went to the jail, the prisoner was missing. There was no doubt he escaped through a hole in the roof. Gericke’s investigation revealed pry marks on the roof, indicating the opening was made by a pinch bar. Gericke knew there was outside assistance in the jail break and was certain he knew who aided and abetted. Whether or not the accomplice was taken into custody, he did know the fate that awaited him. As early as 1908, penalties for aiding and abetting, or providing prisoners with alcohol, were written into the law.

Years following Ahnapee’s first jail, use of the word was written into Chapter 1, Section ll of the 1890 Ordinances of the City of Ahnapee: “Whenever the words ‘lock up or city jail’ occurs in any ordinance of the City of Ahnapee, they shall be construed to mean the lockup of jail of said city or the county jail of Kewaunee County.” Ahnapee’s references to the village lockup and county jail in ordinances began with village status.

Slaughterhouses could land one in the tank. Slaughterhouses or buildings used for such purposes were not allowed in the village nor could they be located closer than 1/8^th mile from a dwelling or business. Resulting fines were set between 10 and 50 dollars plus costs. Default of payment meant jail. Ignorance of the law was no excuse, as fines and or jail time were clearly written into any number of ordinances.

Firemen were said to have the same training as policemen and during the 1930s they were empowered to ticket any vehicle on the street during a fire on the specific block. Mayor McGowan signed the law that set the fines from $1.00 to $100 with a jail time of up to six months.

There were laws providing sentences for those who supplied alcohol to minors. When laws pertained to juveniles, it is doubtful the young paid attention. Ahnapee Mayor M.T. Parker signed laws in 1893 dealing with those under 21 who were not permitted to jump on or climb on a train or engine as it moved through town. It was also unlawful for such persons to uncouple cars. Such behavior merited from 3 to 30 days in either the city or county jails. Of course if one under 21 was employed by the railroad, such activities were legal. It appears that it was acceptable for older adults to jump on to moving trains. Those under 21 were also forbidden “to loiter, to lounge or to idle” anywhere around the depot, tracks or side tracks in the city. Some violations carried a separate fine or incarceration for each day that it happened. Mayor Ihlenfeld signed the Halloween laws when parents were told to keep a strict watch on their children. Tipping outhouses, property damage and even soaping windows would result in arrest and being confined to the city jail.

Men far outnumbered women among those held for being drunk or exhibiting disorderly behavior in either the city and the county. During summer 1879 a young fellow named Adolph was locked up, having been picked up in a drunken condition by the Marshal.  Adolph denied the charge and after being released the following morning, he failed to pay his fine and costs. He was again arrested and taken before Justice McDonald who allowed Constable Cooper to take young Adolph to find his father in order to raise the money. The father, however, was at work in his hay field, and chose not to give his son the money. Cooper attempted to escort the young man back, but the fellow wouldn’t budge and his father wanted him home. Cooper called for assistance and Adolph was taken to the Justice McDonald’s office where he was fined one dollar and costs which had to be paid in 10 days. Failing that, Adolph would be sentenced to the Kewaunee big-house.

Ellsworth Smith found himself in the city jail following a ball game. For some unknown reason E.C. Cameron slapped Smith, however others intervened and it seemed as if the trouble was nipped in the bud. But not so. After the game, Cameron was sitting in front of the Hotel Martin when Smith approached and whacked him on the head with a beer bottle, inflicting a slight scalp wound. Smith spent the night in the slammer and was released the next morning.

Early in 1907 an Algoma man was charged with assault and battery on his wife. The paper reported “he had made it unpleasant for his wife" on previous occasions, but the matter had been leniently allowed to pass.  That time Justice McGowan sentenced him to 15 days in the city jail. A 1915 case of drunkenness and disorderly conduct on the streets of Kewaunee brought to light a story of privation, want and abuse.  The city jail stayed empty following a robbery attempt during 1921. Being daylight, the event was witnessed. A prominent businessman slipped through the sidewalk in front of Thiard’s Steele Street store. It was during the days of the Volstad Act - also called Prohibition - that an outlawed beverage was cached beneath the sidewalk. Apparently the man couldn’t wait until the dark of night when the street was empty and thus the alarm was spread.

Illegal hunting was surely against the law, however when businessmen George and Michael Bohman, Mike Kohlbeck and W. H. Machia were jailed in 1903, it was due to what appeared to have been a rumor. Game Warden Overbeck traced the story to a man from Ellison Bay. When the man was asked about it, he claimed he heard it from someone else. A few years later a man was locked up for not answering questions. He was a stranger in town and when Sheriff Rudolph Dobry asked his name, he gave it. When asked where he came from, if he was a boat crew member, his job and other such questions, he clammed up. Since he didn’t divulge personal information other than his name, he was felt to be mentally deranged. The man had committed no crime but lack of satisfactory answers merited jail. After all, in 1915 the sheriff was being paid $143 and some change yearly to commit the insane.

Strangers always caused suspicion. A fellow from Charlevoix, Michigan was held in jail during 1911. It was said he was tramping through the country. After spending the night, he was ordered out of town the following day and was seen heading toward Kewaunee. Not long after, two 15 year old Kenosha boys were held in the Algoma jail. The charges? They ran away from home.

Watching the old Mayberry R.F.D. reruns is to know Otis spends Saturday nights in jail of his own volition. It happened in Algoma too when a hobo blew into town and asked to spend the 1911 night in the city jail. He was obliged, but the next morning he was ordered out of town and hit the road for Bruemmerville.

It wasn’t only Ahnapee/Algoma that was leery of strangers. It made Algoma news in 1927 when five boys were taken into custody in Sturgeon Bay. The young men were strangers who said their homes were in Chicago. It was said they created a disturbance near the Green home in Sawyer and had been the logical suspects in stealing some slot machines. After being held for 2 days, there was no evidence and they were let go.

Sheriff Dobry was known to do more than investigate, incarcerate and run the jail. Charles Rogers and Joseph Kacerovsky were paid $5.00 and $4.40, respectively, for painting the jail in 1915 but it was Dobry who had to scrub the place. For that, and some handcuffs, he was paid $10.65. It was about the same time that the county board set 50 cents as the fixed daily amount for the boarding of prisoners.

A Luxemburg fellow was being held at the county jail, awaiting his trial for murder when he hung himself in the wee hours of a Sunday morning. It was an ugly surprise for the family of Sheriff Kulhanek to find the man who was then left hanging until Sunday afternoon when a Luxemburg undertaker came to take him down and care for the body. Also bizarre was an incident occurring during the court house remodeling in 1902. As workmen were excavating they unearthed a skeleton thought to be inmate Joseph Busche who set fire to the jail and was burned in it nearly 40 years earlier.

As Joe Shilbauer and Sam Newman were driving through the Black Ash during summer 1907, they spotted a man who dodged into the swamp and hid as they passed. Returning to town they told Marshall Birdsall about the man whose description matched one Birdsall had received in the day’s mail. Birdsall set out looking for the chap, found him in the Black Hills and brought him back to the city jail to await a positive identification. The paper reported that although the man looked suspicious, he swore to his innocence. There was a $600 reward out for a murderer who looked like the man who made his way through the county selling shoestrings!

Then there was the humorous. The Record carried an article about Sturgeon Bay during the late 1870s. It seems the local sheriff put up posts marked “Jail Limits” on the town’s principal roads, about a mile from the jail. The sign posts were erected by law so those “arrested on civil warrants give bail, to enjoy jail liberties.” About 20 years later, a Sturgeon Bay man was jailed for not paying dog license. Whether he made good on his threat to sue the city is anyone’s guess. Who today could possibly believe that interfering with radio reception could land one in jail?  September 1930 saw the passing of an ordinance forbidding the operating of anything that interfered with radio frequencies between 7 AM and midnight. X-ray and treatment equipment was to be used to avoid unnecessary and unreasonable interference to reception. Those who passed that law probably didn't think much about it until they themselves needed medical care.

Doughnuts brought out the arm of the law in August 1931. It’s hard to believe doughnut salesmen were jailed for selling product, however it was selling without a license. Two Green Bay men were in the pokey for their second offense and unable to pay the fine. Fearing their doughnuts would go stale while they were in the hoosegow, the men put in a call to Green Bay asking someone to come for the “sinkers,” doughnuts requiring too much dunking to revive the flavor. At their first offense, Judge Kasal had warned the men to keep out of the county unless they secured a license. Since they were also selling potato chips without a license, one wag felt that stale potato chips and sinkers should be jailhouse fare.

Another of the strange events occurred just before Christmas in 1936. One Mr. Schaefer was apparently traveling one freezing Friday when he was given shelter at the home of Fred Lassine in the Town of Ahnapee. Schaefer stayed the entire weekend and when he left, Lassine’s mittens were gone. Lassine alerted Marshal Birdsall who found Schaefer at Joseph Pauly’s saloon. When Schaefer was searched, it was felt he was in the habit of stealing things of value. He had 25 keys on his person.

Jails are serious business. Whether it was the city or the county, there were always problems to be solved. One occurred in 1898: the disposition of jailed women. J. Kuehl, J. Walecka and J. Ouradnik comprised the Committee on Public Works, and that included the jail. When the men reported to the Board of Supervisors, they said they had visited the jail and made recommendations for separation of the sexes. They felt it was necessary to divide the jail’s hall with a brick and lime partition while putting an extra door into the hall from the sheriff’s office.

Today the Huber Law is in effect. Some serving time spend the night at the jail and the day at their job. Prisoners around the turn of 1900 sometimes were put to work. Schatleben’s Algoma tannery was near the corner of 4^th and Navarino, in the area of the present Bearcat’s. Some men who were jailed are listed with apprentices who worked at Schatleben’s.

State Department of Public Welfare in 1940 gave the county jail, and a few others in Northeast Wisconsin, poor marks. Women were not kept separate from men. The jail was dark and ventilation was poor. Cells were too small, new plumbing was needed as was general remodeling. There was a bright spot though. The report said Sheriff and Mrs. Tom O’Konski did their best to keep the old fashioned, 67 year old structure clean. Following its 1873 construction, the building was painted but there had been no other modernization. A sheriff in a nearby county felt his jail was so bad that he allowed prisoners to leave for a time. He was cited by the State.

Kewaunee County still maintains a jail complex but Algoma’s is long gone. The county’s old jail remains on courthouse square, just east of the present jail. The view from the courthouse and the old jail present a breath-taking view of Lake Michigan. The old jail is open during the summer, functioning as the historical society’s museum. To find out what time in the slammer was like, spend some time in one of the cells.

While the city and the county thought about jails, the Record Herald noted the first in Wisconsin. This log jail was built at Mineral Point before 1836 when Wisconsin achieved Territorial status. What looks to be a gun barrel is actually a ventilation pipe.





* Wisconsin Department of Corrections website says: 1851 - A three member commission sites a prison in Waupun because of its proximity to transportation and the readily available building materials in the area. A temporary 40-bed building is constructed.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; The Commercial History of Development of Youngs and Steele Plat and Other Selected Plats of Algoma, Wisconsin,Vol 1, c. 2006; Commercial History in Algoma, Wisconsin: Vol ll, The Continuing Story, c. 2012. Jag Haegele interview, 2005.

Photo sources: Blogger's postcard collection; Commercial; History, Vols. 1 & 2; Record Herald.

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Algoma's Crescent Beach - Wisconsin's Most Beautiful

By far the most beautiful beach on Lake Michigan's western shore is Algoma's Crescent Beach, an opinion that is not merely a figment of home-town pride. Long before Wisconsin became a state, and even before its territorial status, the beauty of the area astonished Joseph McCormick and the party of men that sailed north with him from Manitowoc . They’d heard about the place from area Pottawatomie. At the time  McCormick felt the bluff on the north side of the (now) Ahnapee River would be a most desirous and scenic place on which to start a town, something the Pottawatomie villagers knew long before McCormick’s 1834 trip. The bluff that provided spectacular views for the Pottawatomie villagers also provided them a measure of protection and safety.

Today’s Crescent Beach was a camping spot and resting point for the Indian people who paddled from the north to and from their Black Earth planting grounds on the East Twin River between today’s Mishicot and Tisch Mills. It was a place to gather, rest, celebrate and feast. Any summer’s day, one sees numbers of people gathering, sunning, picnicking, walking the boardwalk, playing beach volleyball, enjoying the crashing waves or perhaps wading into a quiet rippling lake. Some things don’t change.

 It is no secret that what is now Crescent Beach was an area covered with wild flowers, perhaps including sand roses which would have thrived in the morning dews. In the last 100 years or so, the name “Algoma” came to be thought of as an Indian word meaning “Park of Flowers.” It is far from the truth, although understanding the corruption is easy. Wild flowers were there on the lake bank while an early resident George Rosier – to some ears sounding like Rosey - lived in the area that is now the southwest corner of Jefferson and Lake Streets. By 1880 Rosier Park could be found along Jefferson. When residents were going to “Rosey’s place,” it eventually became synonymous with the beach. The rest became a passed on historical inaccuracy. In truth, Algoma is really an Algonquin word meaning “where waters meet.”

One hundred years later, it is almost frightening to know just how close the city’s lake shore came to being “developed.” Early residents knew the area was a place of beauty. Cooling summer breezes touted by the school district as good for summer school also brought those wishing to flee city heat. In the years to come, there were summers when Ahnapee/Algoma families rented rooms to those escaping that heat. At one point rooms were rented at the old Normal School dormitory, though by then the bluff was preserved. 

It was in 1911 when the Algoma Record suggested the creation of a park association tasked with laying out a new park along the lake on land owned by John Hilton. Editor Frank Elliott felt the beach was the finest on the western shore of Lake Michigan though it lacked a bathing house. That meant little advantage could taken of the marvelous resource.* The paper felt the beach was sure to attract young bathers on warm summer nights if it had such a pavilion. At the time, the city lacked a place for young adults to enjoy themselves, and Hilton’s plan to lease the property cheaply sweetened the idea.

Campers used what many called “the camp site,” and by 1923 Mayor McGown felt the place needed an attractive name such as “Lakeside Park.” He felt “Lakeside Drive” would be a good name for the road, as he envisioned the day when motorists would pass the park on their way north, rather than using Highway 17. Area drivers preferred the lake shore route from Kewaunee and it was only a matter of time before the highway was rerouted.  McGowan felt the view of the lake from the bluff thrilled those who were not accustomed to such beauty. McGowan was right! And that was even before  Algoma's iconic red lighthouse was built in the mid-1930s. Jag Haegele was always quick to remind folks that it was Wisconsin’s 4^th most photographed spot.

It was during the alphabet soup days of the FDR’s administration when WPA was alive and well that things changed.

Eighth District Congressman George Schneider announced in August 1938 that the City of Algoma received approval funding in excess of $36,000 for park and beach improvements. Such funding meant beautification with clean-ups, tree and shrub planting, installation of toilets, a bath house, a camp house, swimming, diving and life-saving apparatus. It meant ball fields and playground equipment at Perry Field and a few other public works projects..

During 1939 a huge retaining wall was built at the north end of the beach near the foot of Fremont Street.  Then the beach  to the south was divided into plots offering sand areas and areas to be seeded with grass and covered with evergreens to provide both shade and beauty.  A stone stairway was built on the south end of the park while steps were built in the middle and a lane, running from the top of the bluff to the beach,  was built on the north end. An asphalt sidewalk was laid at the foot of the lake bank.

Another retaining wall was built thus connecting to the first abutment. The second was a shorter stone and mortar wall at the base of the bluff, supporting the sand and earth being leveled off in a slope from the lake bank. Both walls would serve to protect the bank from heavy waves. Truckloads of ground were dumped on the bank in the beautification effort.  Varying sized sand and grass plots were as long as 100’ as plans included an effort to use as much natural sand as possible.  A bathhouse at about the site of today’s Welcome Center was also in the plans, but it was not built.

WPA did build a camp house, or kitchen, at the south end of the park. Stocked with kitchen ware, the camp house was open to those travelers who wanted to make a meal. It didn't take long before city businessmen joined forces to install, and pay for, a telephone in the building.

WPA crews had other projects in Algoma. When the weather changed, they dug a sewer from Steele St. past the Utility Plant to the point behind the Dug-Out where a bathhouse was to be built. At the time, the Utility was still dumping sewage into the lake but the new sewer was going to eliminate that.

Nearly 80 years later Algoma has forgotten what WPA did for the community. Few have any idea that WPA was the impetus for the jewels that exist today. A tribute to the workmanship of nearly 80 years ago is a source of community pride. It remains today but is something few have seen.

In November 1939 workmen were putting the final touches on the stone wall that ran the length of much of the beach. They were still planting and seeding and installing the stairway at the south end of the beach. On the final step on the stairway is this flag made with colored beach stones set in concrete long before Hawaii and Alaska achieved statehood. Standing sentinel are the stone posts at the top of the bluff marking the stairway that continues telling the story of Crescent Beach. Algoma residents H. Nell and C. Steinhagen have been cleaning the flag for years. Hats off to them too.

Note: Highway 17 did not follow the route of today's Highway 42. Highway 17 came north from Kewaunee on much the same route, but at Longfellow Rd., east of Alaska, Highway 17 went north to Highway K, where it turned east briefly before turning north on Evergreen Rd., to Fremont St. where it turned east and entered Algoma.

The postcard was sent in the early 1940s and its picture was taken about the same time. The kitchen is the white building on the left. The parked cars could access the park via the road going through it. It was in that area that campers set up tents until into the '40s. The road was eliminated with highway widening and improvements. Those visiting this beautiful area are free to park along the curb. One can walk the sand or the boardwalk to the far northern end of the beach where there are two piers on which the public can walk, cast a fishing line or photograph the lighthouse. Should one want a lake fishing charter, a stop at the Visitors' Center will provide contact information.

*A bathhouse was erected east of the Van Camp Cannery (now the Dug-Out) during July 1918.

Sources: Ahnapee Record and Algoma Record Herald; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, c. 2001; Photos were taken by the blogger and the postcard is in the blogger's collection.

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.