Town of Carlton, World War l. and Student Nurse Anna Mae Kocmich

At 21 years old, Anna Mae Kocmich made history in Kewaunee County. That was over 100 years ago. Although  her life was so short, she made an impact, doing what no other County woman did. Until that time.

It was World War l, a time when the Spanish Influenza was encircling the globe as is COVID 19 just over 100 years later. When Anna Mae died at Camp Greenleaf at Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, on January 19, 1919, she died of that flu, Kewaunee County’s lone woman giving her life for the War effort. At the time, Anna Mae was the county’s only woman to enter government service, a mere eight weeks before her death.

During September 1918, articles outlining the need for more nurses appeared in the newspapers. The requested applicants weren’t young single women, but rather the wives of soldiers who had been sent abroad. Accepted women were required to be  between 21 and 40, of good moral character and in good physical condition. Open to the women was serving as a hospital assistant, aiding nurses in work that did not require training beyond a six-week course in first aid, hygiene, and dietetics if the woman had not earlier completed Red Cross courses.

The hospital assistants were sent to military hospitals where time between convalescence and recovery was expected to be lengthy. It was said that every invalid soldier would be given full share of the attention necessary to meet his needs. Single women were considered as assistants only if they were under 35. It was felt women whose husbands were overseas were “free” to give such service. 

Between 1917 and 1919, the Red Cross recruited about 22,000 nurses, 10,000 of whom served on the Western Front. Initially, those in authority wanted to keep women away from the Front, but when it was realized how many more men could be saved with nursing, that changed, and the Student Nurse Reserve Corps was born. In late November 1918, the U.S. was looking for applications to the new Student Nurse Reserve.

At the Armistice, it was felt the women nurses would no longer be needed, but as the wounded returned and the pandemic had not abated, the women nurses remained in demand. At the call for Student Nurses, Anna Mae Kocmich wanted to serve and volunteered. Six other county women volunteered, however Anna Mae was the first to be called.

By August 10^th, the county had enrolled 6 of the 10 of the quota to be met on August 11. Kewaunee’s Vera Lockwood, in September 1918, was the first County resident to enroll as an Army nurse. Vera had graduated from Two Rivers high school and was employed by Dr. W.M. Wochos in Kewaunee. She was followed by Hannah Cadigan* of Casco, Clara Koller and Anna Mae Kocmich of Carlton and Lucille Wodsedalek** of Algoma. After Mary Shestock’s enrollment was accepted, there were no more eligible volunteers. It was said that exacting standards made finding qualified women difficult. It was further said that women saw Army hospitals as being more honorable places to serve. That too affected recruitment.

There was a quota system, and only half – 723 - of Wisconsin’s original 1,500-quota had been met. One problem was the high educational standards met by only three states. Applicants were expected to have at least 2 years of high school and could choose between civilian and Army training. If women  nursing programs operated by religious groups, that preference was considered. Women accepted to a program were promised government-paid transportation and when she was ordered to report, she was sent orders and a Pullman car ticket. Expenses enroute were refunded to her.

Anna Mae Kocmich was born in the Town of West Kewaunee on June 2, 1897 and grew up in Carlton. After attending rural school in Carlton and graduating from Kewaunee High School in 1915, Anna Mae attended Oshkosh Normal School for a year and began to teach at Wayside School, District #4 in Carlton. The Enterprise said she was an excellent teacher whose services were in demand.

At her death, a military escort was provided to act as an honor guard, and following Anna Mae’s funeral  at her parents’ Carlton home, internment was in Forest Hill Cemetery. The esteem in which Anna Mae was held was evident in the number of those whose friendship she made at Oshkosh Normal School. The women came from around Wisconsin. Her high school classmates told of her high qualities, strong character and the happy disposition that was most endearing. A week after Anna Mae’s funeral, the paper said the greater part of the pupils in the school district in Carlton attended the funeral, contributing flowers as an outpouring of sympathy.

During the following August, the Enterprise ran a list of Kewaunee County servicemen who gave their lives. Some were killed on the battlefield while others died of the pandemic either abroad or in camp. The very bottom of the article says, “and Anna Mae Kocmich, Army Nurse.” County Clerk Joseph G. Lazansky said in each case a 10-karat star Honor Medal would be awarded to the next of kin.

Anna Mae was survived by her brothers who apparently named their daughters after their sister. The name Anna Mae Kocmich shows up in Kewaunee County for many years following her death.

*Cadigan, as Anna Mae, attended Door-Kewaunee County Training School in Algoma. The school became Door-Kewaunee County Teachers’ College which closed in 1970. The City of Algoma purchased the buildings which now served as Algoma Public Library and the municipal offices.

**Wodsedalek volunteered to nurse Influenza patients and continued nursing after the war.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald; Kewaunee Enterprise; An Honor Roll: Containing a Pictorial  Record of the Gallant and Courageous. Photos: Find a Grave, nurse poster is online.

Everything Old is New Again: Grocery Delivery

The words in Peter Allen’s song title Everything Old is New Again tells it like it is. In his Colorado Kid, author Stephen King used the same line when he wrote, ”Sooner or later, everything old is new again.” The song and the book have nothing to do with each other, except that Allen and King are right. Over time, much comes full circle, prompting some to shrug and say the wheel continues to be reinvented. Again. And again.

It’s even true with something as innocuous grocery delivery, which is coming back into vogue. Here and there in recent years, big city grocery stores offered grocery delivery, however it was COVID 19 that brought those stores to light. The idea spread. Arranging for someone else to do the shopping is easy for those online. One simply submits a grocery list, credit card information for payment, adds delivery instructions, and then selects a date and time for delivery. Voila! The groceries show up. Or, one can find products on Amazon, and have them delivered by mail.

Algoma grocery deliveries can be documented to just after 1900 when merchant Rudolph Pauly ran the meat market on the southeast corner of 4^th and Clark. It was before World War l when Pauly made big news ordering a tricycle. A tricycle? Pauly didn’t have a toy section in his market, and although it might be hard to believe, the tricycle was for business purposes. During May 1902, Algoma’s bicycle dealer, Julius Meyer, ordered a trike for Pauly who planned to use it for meat deliveries. The tricycle was said to be strong, but simple, having a box between the rear wheels. It was said the bicycle could be powered by a small boy even though the box was built to hold at least 150 pounds. The machine ran as light as a bicycle, prompting the Record to say if the machine proved as satisfactory as Pauly thought, more of the businessmen might use them. Businessmen did. One hundred years later such tricycles are used by the ice cream vendors in cities.

RFD mail carrier leaving Ellisville about 1910

At the end of November 1904, Kewaunee County was fully served by Rural Free Delivery, RFD. It meant mail was delivered to rural areas finally offering country folk access to what their city cousins enjoyed. RFD brought catalogues such as Sears-Roebuck, Speigle, and Montgomery Ward, whetting appetites beyond what was satisfied by area merchants. Whatever folks wanted to order -  whether a bride’s trousseau or baby chicks - the mail carrier made sure it was delivered.

By 1908, Congress was in the midst of establishing rural parcel post offering special postage rates for food stuffs, dry goods, drugs, books and other merchandise. Postage began at 5 cents for the first pound and 2 cents for each additional pound.

On the cusp of U.S. entry into World War l, Milwaukee Daily News, in February 1917, ran an article about grocery delivery and the costs the American housewife failed to appreciate when she called to have a 5-cent cake of year delivered. The News pointed out the costs in maintaining delivery horses or the motor trucks, and the costs of paying deliverymen. The paper estimated that the cost of delivery was 8% of the price of the item, which meant that a grocer who didn’t deliver could sell the same goods for 8% lower than the grocer who had equipment to maintain.

Milwaukee Daily News went on to say that delivery was high class service that resulted in higher living costs. A woman who picked out her own groceries got better quality and saved money by paying cash. The paper advocated “cash and carry” to help eliminate some of the high costs of living. By 1923 Wisconsin Department of Markets was investigating cash and carry versus delivery stores.

Bach Mercantile, on the northwest corner of 4^th and Steele, advertised itself as a cash and carry store in the late 1930s. A few years earlier, Bach touted delivery and charging groceries to one’s account. In 1949, the new Fotey store on the northwest corner of Division and Jefferson offered cash and carry prices, and as late as 1956, Algoma’s Gamble Store was advertising Philco radios at the cash and carry price of $14.00. Gamble’s carried groceries earlier.

In a move to meet competition from chain stores, merchants in some areas organized to place their businesses on a strictly cash basis.  Stores had carried customers “on account.” Periodically, the charged accounts were settled. The Depression, however, put a huge burden on the shoulders of merchants often unable to collect on the accounts for those they generously floated. Deliveries kept on.

1933 Record Herald ad

In 1934 newspaper ads, P.J. Dart, manager of Algoma’s branch of Wisconsin Telephone Co. pointed toward emergencies a reason for telephone service, but added food for thought: it would lighten the housewife’s role if she just had a phone for ordering her groceries. As access to telephones grew in Algoma, grocery stores offered delivery service.

By World War ll, just about every store in town had a delivery vehicle. It was a time when gas was rationed and women were joining the paid workforce, taking the places of men who were drafted. These women worked for hire while juggling  families, meals. gardens and all the things it took to run a 1940s household when there were few labor-saving devices.

Barely a month following U.s entry to World War ll, grocery delivery became a “defense need.” Foretold was how local housewives could call a store at any time during the day and expect groceries within a few hours. Recognizing the need for conservation of resources, all 10 of Algoma’s grocers and meat markets met to organize. Cooperating in the delivery effort were Ahrndt Food Market, Algoma Farmer’s Co-op, Cashway, Earl’s I.G.A., Horak’s, Katch’s, Kashik’s, Nell’s Schaida’s and Sedivy’s. It was decided two deliveries would be made each morning. Within time, the schedule was reduced. There were inconveniences but such things were contributions to the war effort. 

There was no online capability in 1942 when grocery orders were phoned in to the store. A clerk put the order together, noted the total on the purchaser’s account, and the delivery boy got the groceries out as quickly as he could. Grocery delivery made a difference.

Katch's 1953, Record Herald photo

Katch’s delivered around town even into the 1960s when this blogger was a teen-ager with a part-time weekend checkout job. Hoogie and Jerry were the popular “delivery boys” who took the van out to deliver as little as a pound of butter or a bottle of vanilla. Although there was no charge for the delivery, on a good day the boys might luck out with a 10 cent tip!  By then, delivery in Algoma had been taking place for at least 60 years.

Deliveries didn’t stop with the grocery stores. During World War ll and for at least 15 years later, Mrs. Silver, a Green Bay fashion saleswoman, stopped at farms across the county with samples of the latest in dresses and hats. Women could try on the merchandise and order in a size to fit them. Garments would be delivered and paid for on a subsequent visit. When in October 1936, Algoma Hospital let it be known that it needed a sewing machine, it was Mrs. Silver who donated one. In the mid-1950s when so many residents were getting tv sets, the Red Buttons’ show was a favorite among Silver’s customers. Her son Joe was associated with the program and New York tv. Heady stuff in a small town.

Record Herald ad, 1938

There were other product deliveries. Watkins’ merchandise was in demand and Kewaunee’s Mr. Sevcik had a route as did the Fuller Brush man who brought cleaning items. A little later, the Avon lady made appearances and brought beauty products to the privacy of one’s home. Mauer’s Grocery encouraged residents to phone in their beer requests. Such deliveries also offered a little privacy for those whose habits were judged by others

A computer crash, or hack, means no ordering today, sending the blood pressure up for those who never thought of Plan B. It happened with telephones too but nobody became “unglued.” There were strikes after World War ll, one of which was a nation-wide walk out by telephone workers in April 1947. Grocery delivery was still on the Wednesday-and-Saturday-only wartime basis, but Algoma area women knew exactly what to do. As the Record Herald pointed out, area women learned long ago how to shop and when the phones were down, there was no sudden congestion in stores or at meat counters. Algoma women were prepared.

Everything old is new again, including groceries deliveries.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald. The painting is from NLJohnson Art. Other graphics are from Algoma Record Herald.

Cream Separators: Not for Family Farms Anymore

Wisconsin State Fair means cream puffs, and COVID 19 quarantining means more than a few are becoming pros at making their own delights. When  you need cream for your own cream puffs, you jot “cream” on your grocery list and pick it up when you get groceries. If you need it immediately, you might make a special trip to the market or have it delivered. If you were making cream puffs for Mother’s Day in 1920, for instance, you’d be out of luck unless you just milked the cows and had a cream separator. 

What’s a cream separator? It’s a machine for separating and removing cream from whole milk. Butterfat particles are held in suspension in milk and when milk is allowed to sit, the heavier particles sink to the bottom of the container while the lighter butterfat particles rise to the top. One of the earliest methods of removing cream was pouring milk into shallow pans and allowing it to sit for at least a day and a half. The cream rose to the top and was “skimmed” off. While the method worked for small amounts of milk, it was not efficient. And, as today, improperly stored milk sours.

As farms grew and farmers moved from a cow or two to 10, or even 12, milk needed to be dealt with quickly. Often, it was put in tall cans that were set in troughs of cold water, or perhaps in an artesian well. Gravity took its toll and the heavy particles sank while the lighter butterfat rose to the top. Cream was taken off the top of the can. Some cans had bottom drains thus enabling skimmed milk to be drained off, leaving the cream in the can. By the late 1890s, Sears & Roebuck catalog sold such cans for 55 cents. In addition to the drains, some of those cans had a small glass window allowing the farmer’s wife to check on the process. By the late 1890s, Sears & Roebuck catalog sold such cans for 55 cents. In addition to the drains, some of those cans had a small glass window allowing the farmer’s wife to check on the process.

Montgomery Ward & Co. catalog was also selling such items, and at the start of Kewaunee County’s new Rural Free Delivery (RFD) on November 30, 1904, the mailmen were delivering cream separators to county residents. Even before R.F.D., Davis Separators were making inroads. The company in 1895 said that purchased separators would be sent free from Chicago. Davis said separators met a farmer’s needs if he had one cow or as many as 1,000. Boastful advertising it was. Who ever heard of a 1900 dairy farmer having 1,000 cows?

Sometime during the mid-1800s, a German fellow developed a system applying centrifugal force to separate the cream, however history tells us that the ancient Chinese had developed it years before. Another German introduced his separating machine at an 1874 dairy exposition. He separated an astounding 200# of milk in about 30 minutes, but history also tells us that it took another 30 or so minutes for his separation drum to stop its rotation, during which time the skimmed milk was drained off. The German, Wilhelm Lefeldt, applied for a patent and got it in 1877. Then came the Swedish Carl Gustav de Laval who improved the design and whose name is nearly synonymous with dairy equipment.

Although cream separators meant farmers could make some money if they had more cows, there was one more problem: butterfat content. In 1890, University of Wisconsin Dr. Stephen Babcock developed a test measuring, accurately, the amount of butterfat in milk. 

Babcock lives on. Babcock Hall on the campus of UW-Madison is a great place to go for ice cream. There is never a dull day with plain old chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, On the right day, one can bask in such flavors as Barry Alvarez and On Wisconsin while enjoying history with the ice cream in the “grand old Badger state….....”

Babcock’s tests were important in the testing of milk that might have skimmed or watered down before being sold. There were those who tried to beat the system 100 years ago too. Farmers were making  a little money but there was still the cream that housewives needed for cooking and baking.

Ahnapee Record, and later the Algoma newspapers, carried ads for cream separators. When in 1895 Laval advertised theirs, the company said such a purchase would pay for itself in less than a year. Ten years later, Montgomery Ward & Co. sold Hawthorn separators from 36 to 51 dollars.  Price difference reflected in the amount of milk processed per hour.

Although the separators were touted as money makers, the Farm Sentinel* seemed to feel farmers were dragging their feet in such purchasing. The publication mentioned the “lord of the household” saying he’d never put $75 or 100 into a separator. Then the Sentinel brought up self-binders that cost at least $125 and were used only 3-4 days a year while a separator would be used all 365 days. Farm Sentinel encouraged being progressive and said farmers needed new methods.

By 1906, Wisconsin Dairy Farms Co. was telling farmers to save all their cream. The company said cream meant cash, and said their product was easy to use because all working parts were enclosed. Separators became so lucrative that small town Algoma had its own agent, D.H. Beckwith, a fellow who also procured cream for the Sturgeon Bay creamery.

Their separator, they said, got more cream than any other separator and thus was a big money maker.

Debates continued and as late as 1916, farm publications were still touting the money making-money saving cream separators that would save $5-10 a cow per year while decreasing labor in a herd numbering 5 or 6 cows. Best of all, proper care meant a separator would last at least 10 years.

Algoma housewives were targeted in Algoma Produce ads when the company touted its easy clean bowls with pictures of the little woman easily taking care of work once called a “woman killer.” Advertising was directed toward the farmer because men controlled the purse, however women were depicted in the ads because it was generally women who did the milking.**

When the new cheese factory was built at Alaska in 1925, the Record Herald carried an article describing the modern, new plant. A cream separator had a place in the 42 x 33’ cheese making room which also held three vats, two large double presses and churn.

The bulk of cream separating ads appeared regularly for about 25 years as technology continued to evolve. By the 1940s, there were still ads mentioning separators, but some of the ads were for auction sales.

As the county and the country moved away from small family dairy farms and the cheese factories that once dotted the landscape, mega dairy farms appeared. Today's U.S. cheese factories are owned by fewer than a dozen corporate entities. Modern technology enables greater butterfat control via high speed centrifuges. As for DeLaval, it has been well over 100 years since Carl Gustave de Laval introduced his separator. The company remains as a leader.

You can duplicate those State Fair cream puffs. It isn't as hard as you might think. You've got the flour, butter and eggs. All it takes is cream. Forget the cream separator: the cream is in a carton in the diary case at your favorite grocery store. You can make a batch of cream puffs faster than grandma could separate the cream!

*Farmers’ Sentinel was a small Milwaukee-based newspaper geared toward the farming community. During 1906, the paper was offering a trial 6-month subscription for 25 cents (for the total period).

**Most of Kewaunee County’s immigrant cultures saw milking cows as a woman’s job, one that was beneath the dignity of a man.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algma Herald, Algoma Record Herald, Here Comes the Mail: Post Offices of Kewaunee County, Kewaunee County Century Farms.

Kewaunee County & Dandelions: Salads, Hot Bacon Dressing, Wine & More

Homeowners and landscape services alike are busy eradicating what the southern cousins call “little yellow flowers.” It isn’t the yellow flowering dandelions that are so bad, it’s when they go to seed. The whitish puffs make lawns look unkept and unruly, which means extra mowing. And when the seeds blow hither and yon, the process repeats itself.

Dandelions are pesky, right? Well, our grandparents and great-grandparents didn’t think so. As the snow melted to show signs of dandelions, Grandma began to salivate. Things are far different today and with all the chemical sprays, eating dandelions would be foolhardy.

Before - and for a long time after - 1900, there was no central heating as we know today. Cast iron wood stoves kept homes heated in winter. In an effort to insulate and keep floors warmer, our ancestors banked hay along the home’s foundation and then held the hay in place with boards. At winter’s end, the most tender dandelion shoots began  poking out from beneath the boards. Rather than deep green, the leaves were pale, often bordering on white. Grandma’s family eagerly awaited the delicious spring salads, wilted with scrumptious hot bacon dressing.

Kewaunee County seniors remember the old Machuts’, which became Gib’s on the Lake south of Kewaunee, Happy’s, which became The Cork in Kewaunee, the Stebbins’ Hotel, Alaska Golf Course dining room and Northbrook as a few of the restaurants serving the popular home-made hot bacon dressing. Although the ingredients were about the same, that dressing was different than Great-grandma’s. Her bacon came from a real pig, a fat porker – an old-fashioned pig. Today’s pigs are bred to be taller, slimmer, and leaner, without the high fat content of 100 years ago. Today’s pork is far healthier than pigs Great-grandpa raised, but Grandpa always remembered eating pork when “pork was pork.”

Tender dandelion greens were saved for salad, while the less tender were used for healthful spring teas. Even the roots were roasted and used for body-cleansing teas. Roasted root teas were “coffeeish” in color and sometimes used as coffee substitutes.

Then there was Great-grandpa’s dandelion wine. It took about a gallon of big, beautiful dandelion flowers to make about a gallon of wine, which had little alcohol in it. The sweet wine was much like today’s white wines and quite popular with women, many of whom thought the wine had its own properties as a tonic.

It wasn’t only dandelions that brought a gleam to our ancestors’ eyes. So did wild caraway later in the summer. Caraway was a basis for kimmel/kummel, something kids were not allowed to taste even though it looked like fun. We knew kimmel made Grandpa and the uncles move around like they were playing too much Ring-Around-the Rosie, a children’s game that actually  was a reference to the black plague.

Dandelion wine must have been in short supply when Algoma Record editor Elliott wrote in October 1907  that his paper could not survive on “wind, pudding and dandelion wine.” At issue was advertising that had seemingly dropped off. Elliott felt that a city of about 2,500 should not have to look elsewhere to fill its ad space. A few years later Algoma Record Herald suggested dandelion wine and kimmel as Christmas gifts, and in December 1957, Algoma Public Library was touting Ray Bradbury’s new book, Dandelion Wine, a novel set in the summer of 1928 and based on Bradbury’s youth in Waukegan, Illinois

Kewaunee County Agent Maurice Hoveland had a little fun in June 1954 when he wrote a Letter to the Editor to Harry Heidmann of Algoma Record Herald. Hoveland wrote following Heidmann’s editorial concerning dandelions, which, Hoveland felt, Heidmann failed to appreciate. Hoveland said the little yellow flowers were spring’s first. He said dandelions’ color beautifies the lawn while delaying the grass, thus putting off mowing for a few weeks. He went on to say that children had such fun pulling out matured dandelion heads and blowing seeds to the winds, thus ensuring more dandelions in years to come. Hoveland said he felt Heidmann never experienced the mellow flavor of dandelion wine and that he should remember such points in 1954 when he began to blame dandelions for coming on to the lawns.

A few years later, the Record Herald’s humorist harkened back to the days when those little yellow flowers were not looked at as pesky, but rather the most important ingredient in a keg of dandelion wine. By 1959, it was only the elders who longed for the first greens of the season dressed with real hot bacon dressing that came from pigs that were real pigs!

Homeowners and lawn services continue to get rid of those pesky little yellow flowers just in time for Mother’s Day, a day when so many moms remember the joy in the faces of the little ones giving her a dandelion bouquet, smiling and happily saying, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Sources: Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald.

Easter in Algoma: 100 Years Ago and the Spanish Flu

Easter Sunday 2020 was certainly one for the history books. Easter 1918 and 1919 were too. It wasn’t called self-distancing in those years, but schools were closed as religious services, meetings and public gatherings were cancelled. The global pandemic called the Spanish flu infected one-quarter to one-third of the world’s population. Of the 500 million infected, about 50,000,000 died. Nearly 675,000 died in the U.S. The CDC says the Spanish flu, an H1N1 virus, was first identified in the military during World War l and it was because of the war that it spread.

History.com tells us the first wave of flu, occurring in the spring of 1918, was fairly mild, but by fall there was another wave so deadly that victims often died within hours or days of contracting the disease that turned skin blue and filled lungs to the point of suffocation. There were no vaccines in those days and since it was a novel (new) virus, as Covid 19 is, nobody had immunity.

War was ranging in Europe in 1917, and even though U.S. men were beginning to enlist and looking toward the draft, Easter was fairly normal in Algoma, and in all of Kewaunee County, except, perhaps for the Julius Meyer family. Easter Sunday 1917 was a day the family didn’t forget. For them it was a near tragedy. Playing along the river near the Bohman fish shanty, young Robert Meyers came close to drowning when he fell into the water between the dock and the fishtug. Fortunately, the water wasn’t deep and playmate Eugene Kimball kept his wits about him as he pulled Robert from the water.

Schools gave youngsters a bit of Easter vacation during which time new slate blackboards were installed at Lincoln Joint District No #3 – LaFayette School. It was said the new boards added much to the school’s interior appearance.

When the Record came out on April 12, the blackboards were newsworthy. So were the journeys and visits of family and friends, college students taking a break from their studies, teachers leaving to spend East with their families and more.

The Herald on April 5 had tips for making Easter special for the children. Such ideas included the normal egg hunts plus fancy dress dancing parties, Punch and Judy shows and all kinds of games. Fluck’s City Drug Store was advertising the latest in Easter cards and booklets. A week later, the Herald reported on the large Luxemburg delegation attending the dance given by W.S. Decker at the Casco Park Hall on the evening after Easter. Algoma Symphony Orchestra furnished the music.

Lent was closing out and dance hall proprietors throughout Kewaunee County were advertising the coming dances. J.E. Gettelmann announced an Easter dance at his popular Bruemmerville spot on April 9^th. Algoma’s opera house was to be the scene of an Easter ball the same night when there would also be one at Casco. Entringer and Hucek at Bottkolville (now called Euren) scheduled a dance for the 9^th but the men found it necessary to postpone until April 16^th.

Easter 1918 saw huge changes. By spring, hundreds of Wisconsin men were serving in the military and everyone knew of those who died from the Spanish flu, whether in the military or at home. There were deaths: men died in training camp and in France. People died at home. There were those in Algoma who died and were buried before many found out. Congregating at a funeral would spread disease.

While local residents and men in the military were dying, the county had another shock when

Anamae Kochmich died on January 19, 1818. The young Carlton resident died at Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, of pneumonia caused by the Spanish flu. The 1915 Kewaunee high school honor graduate went on to Oshkosh Normal School and began teaching. When the call for nurses came, Anamae left teaching to train with the Reserve Corps of Nurses. Of the seven county women who volunteered for nurses training, Anamae was the only one chosen. Anamae left home on December 5, 1918 and died about 6 weeks later. When her funeral was held on January 26, followed by internment at Forest Hill Cemetery, a military escort served as an honor guard.

When the Record Herald told readership about the epidemic in October 1918, it said the populace should guard against droplet infections. It warned readers that if precautions were not taken, the epidemic would be so widespread that it would be the American flu. Deaths came primarily from complications.

The Wisconsin Health Department said the flu was very contagious and explained how pneumonia was caused by the disease. The Department told about germs being carried in air in the form of dust from dried mucus, coughing or sneezing or from the careless who spit on the floor or sidewalk. The Department further said that one with very mild symptoms might very well give a severe attack to others.

Life did go on though.

The Red Cross dance planned for Easter Monday 1918 was postponed to April 12^th and then cancelled entirely. The ladies working for the Red Cross had gotten so busy that the dance became too much. Still, a large crowd of Algoma citizens enjoyed the Easter Monday dance at Entringer and Hucek’s the day after Easter.

Other things began changing, mostly because of the war. Bakers were notified that as of April 1, rye flour could not be used as a substitute for wheat and were then told that by the 14^th bread had to be made up of 25% substitutes. Bakers were allowed to use four pounds of potatoes as an equal to 1 pound of other substitutes. Using sugar on bread and rolls was forbidden but it could be used on crackers and other pastry. There were the meatless days and meatless meals that were suddenly suddenly they were suspended. Spring of 1918 brought an unusual run of hogs on the market, limited storage facilities , a shortage of railroad cars and a shortage of overseas transportation. In 2020, milk was being dumped, tomatoes thrown out and potatoes being plowed under. There is nowhere to go with oil. Until May 1, 1918, at least, the government was encouraging citizens to eat more potatoes, meat and milk  because of oversupply. Breadstuffs, however, were conserved. After April 1^st, housewives could neither purchase nor consume more than 1 ½ pounds of flour per person per week or 6 pounds per month. Hotels and restaurants were to completely abolish the use of wheat products until the next harvest to insure adequate supplies to the allies.

There was the Spanish flu, the food shortages and horrors of war, but there were bright spots. When Alaska Red Cross Branch sponsored a dance at Borlee’s Hall in Rostok on April 27^th, attendees were assured a good time.

Somehow Algoma coped and came through it. By Easter on April 20, 1919, things were settling down. The war was over but the Spanish flu was still there, however not spreading as it had a year earlier. On April 21, the Ladies Rosary Society at St. Mary’s Immaculate Conception church gave their annual Easter luncheon at the Columbus Club rooms. The luncheon was scheduled to begin at 5 and continue till all were served. Price was set at 25 cents for adults and 15 cents for children.

When Record Herald editor Harry Heidmann editorialized at Easter 1919, he said the changes in old thoughts and customs would not be immediate, but a signed peace treaty meant that there were steps toward a world governed by right and justice. Heidmann said, “And its completion seems like Easter, symbolic of hope and joy.” Heidmann went on to write about the promise of Easter. He wrote about Easter being a great joy after Lent’s sadness and the Resurrection being emblematic of life and hope. He went on to say that we celebrate a return of spring and that too is like the fulfillment of hope. The peace treaty was to be completed by Easter and after years of destruction, suffering, terror and chaos, there was hope of a sense of mutual obligation and helpfulness among nations.

Heidmann could have been talking about the Spanish flu, he could have been talking about Covid 19.

Sources: Algoma Herald, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald; History.com; The photo of Anamae Kochmich comes from An Honor Roll, Harry Heidmann and Lester Heidmann. The clippings come from Algoma Record Herald.

Kewaunee County, Algoma and the Polio Epidemic of 1955

COVID 19 has prompted more than a few commentators to quote Franklin Roosevelt by saying, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” The line was in FDR’s first inaugural address. He took office in the depth of the Depression and the quote was seen as a “rebuke of the psychological paralysis” gripping the country. Roosevelt spoke in terms of the economic crisis. Gone was the Spanish Flu pandemic of World War l. That flu spread like wildfire because of the war. Twenty-five years later, polio was spreading.

FDR’s quote might well be words he lived by. At age 39, in 1921, he was vacationing with his family when he was stricken with infantile paralysis, more often called polio by future generations. Polio affected FDR for the rest of his life. As president, he was protected by the press and his limited mobility was largely unnoticed by the American public. In an age before TV, who’d guess the man with the firm, but calm, voice addressing them on the radio was a man in a wheelchair, one who could barely walk? Any public appearance was carefully choreographed to showcase the president as strong and healthy. His voice surely was. It wasn’t until after his death, in his 4^th term as president, that the general public learned about the polio that ruled Roosevelt’s life for more than 20 years.

Polio struck fear in the hearts of parents. Each summer folks heard of those in iron lungs, unable to breathe on their own. They heard of healthy, active children who lost muscle control and whose arms and legs were crippled by the disease. It seemed as if children were most at risk, but plenty of adults were also stricken. There were deaths.

Nobody knew where polio would strike but if it struck in Kewaunee County in 1948, the local chapter of the National Foundation of Infantile Paralysis said it was ready for it. Chairman Richard Seidl said the chapter was better prepared than ever. He reassured folks when he said polio patients in the county would not go without treatment for lack of money. Polio fundraising dances took place throughout the year.

State Board of Health Epidemiologist Dr. Arthur Zintek said in August 1949 that fear of polio as an individual risk was almost always blown out of proportion. He said many had/have had polio and weren’t aware of it. Polio with paralysis was an uncommon form of the disease while a summer cold or upset stomach might mean the virus was carried and not developed. Zintek said that the more serious cases could be helped with corrective surgery or the use of mechanical devices. Tell that to already worried parents!

During August 1951, the Red Cross was recruiting nurses for work in polio outbreak areas. The nurses would work for two months, receiving a salary, transportation  and maintenance paid by the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis. In 1953 Kewaunee County resident JoAnn Peot was a young graduate nurse recruited by Brown County Red Cross to serve at Port Huron, Michigan.

Algoma Record Herald carried an article in January 1951 about collecting money for the March of Dimes and iron lungs. Miniature iron lungs were set around town to serve as coin collecting containers. When Sheriff Alvin Kuehl opened the March of Dimes drive in 1951, he said the funding drive would last a little over two weeks but in that short time, the county could help thousands and thousands of patients that included children for whom recovery would take 10-12 weeks or more.

Polio insurance information

Ann Birdsall’s Algoma insurance agency and Schmitz in Forestville were offering polio insurance that included other diseases.

In addition to the Dug-Out fundraising dance, a dance was planned at Aude’s Triangle in Kewaunee. Tavern League president Alex Mura said the League was handling ticket sales and tickets could be purchased at just about every tavern in the county. Campaigns were also carried on in Kewaunee, Casco, Luxemburg and each of the ten towns.

During July 1953 Algoma Plywood and Veneer presented Bellin Hospital with an iron lung made at the plant. The paper said the lung, made of rich mahogany, was to have been given to Algoma hospital but the hospital was too small to deal with the disease. Plans came from Popular Mechanics after the maintenance crew developed the idea. Nick Gombler hand tooled a copper plaque that was attached to the lung, noting that the lung came from the plant and its employees.

Algoma Plywood iron lung 1953

June 1954 saw Gamma Globulin restricted due to shortages. Factored in were Wisconsin’s late start of a polio season and because eight counties had been taking part in field trials which, it was felt, would interfere with vaccine effectiveness. Early September brought attention to two Door Co. to two more cases in Door Co., bringing their total to 4, and 2 more cases in Algoma.

Two days after a national announcement in early April 1955 told U.S. populace the Salk vaccine was about 90% effective in the prevention of polio, School Supt. Arnold Chada said county first and second graders would get the vaccine soon. Centers were set up in Algoma, Kewaunee and Luxemburg, and because the county was without a nurse for a year, Mrs. Arnold Wochos, a registered nurse, was hired on a temporary basis.

Salk injections given at St. Mary's School, Algoma

In late May 1955, Carlton Graded School first grader Roger Ihlenfeld was the first county kid to get the Salk polio injection. The paper said he took the shot “like a brave boy,” thus earning a lollipop compliments of the State Bank of Kewaunee. The youngsters who followed him also got the treat. Three hundred twenty-nine first and second graders were inoculated, however 721 consent forms had been signed. Where were the others? A center was quickly established when it was learned that one school in southern Kewaunee County had not been aware of the events so its kids didn’t get the injections. As with other injections, children with colds, recovering from a contagious disease or recent illness were advised not to have the injections. If there were adverse effects from the inoculations, it didn’t make the paper.

When June saw the county with enough medication for first and second shots for a second round of injections, plans were made for additional inoculations. Nurse Wochos kept tabs on each child’s name and school attended. Then a Carlton man died at the end of the month.

Situations changed quickly, often from day to day. Disseminated information changed daily. To read the old papers is to notice the similarities with COVID 19 today even though communication in 1955 was almost primitive when compared with 2020.  Did leadership’s right hand know what the left hand was doing? Sanitation was stressed, but in 1955 there wasn’t an internet site plugging hand washing with vodka as the way to go!

Pastor Wians of St. John’s at Rankin let it be known near the end of July 1955 that he was indefinitely postponing the Sunday School picnic, saying it would be foolish to take chances with health. When the City of Kewaunee had five cases, the city council suspended recreation department activities in addition to closing the beach. Kewaunee’s cases and two from Casco were isolated at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Green Bay. By then there were two deaths in the county, one a 6-year old boy from Algoma.

Kewaunee street superintendent Lee Jirtle was ordered by the council to begin spraying the insides of all garbage cans with insecticide at each pick-up Fire chief James Drab was asked to have his department begin spraying the public dump.

While Kewaunee was adding to the precaution list, Algoma said there was no epidemic in town and activities would continue. Swimming lessons would continue and the pool and beach would remain open, although activities would be curtailed on the advice of local physicians. Parents were encouraged to do or not do what was in the best interests of their family. It was the social distancing of 1955.

Published polio precautions

The same paper said extra caution was advised, and that extreme fatigue, sudden chilling and the avoidance of large crowds was in order. Early diagnosis was important but since symptoms included a headache, stomach upset or vomiting, they might go unnoticed. One caveat was welcomed by the kids: tonsil operations and tooth extractions would weaken resistance and it was best to postpone such procedures.

Only a week later, August 4, 1955, Mayor Dick DeGuelle ordered the pool and beach closed for two weeks due to the death of the Algoma boy. Council planned to meet the following week to rule on the ban’s status. Then it was learned Luxemburg sent two new patients to St. Vincent’s, an 8-year-old and an 18-year-old. One Casco child was recovering while the other was in an iron lung.

The weekend was hot and humid and the beach was nearly deserted when Health Officer Richard Mraz posted signs. Council had decided to keep the pool and beach closed for a month. It was pointed out that as soon as restrictions were lifted, the Red Cross would give swimming tests and kids who passed would still receive their swimming proficiency certificates.

On August 11, the paper told readership that for the first time in 10 years there would be no Plywood picnic, a community summer highlight. After planning for months, management, local doctors and union members agreed that chances of exposure were too great at the picnic scheduled for August 28.

The same edition educated parents about Gamma Globulin and induced parents to have their children inoculated. The injection took effect after about 2 weeks and apparently offered 5 weeks of polio protection. Today’s grandparents remember that shot which was a true pain in the butt! The paper reported Council opened the beach but kept the pool closed in an effort to avoid gatherings of children. Meetings were advised only for small groups. Perry field park wasn’t closed but parents were to use their own discretion. Did anybody know what was going on?

Algoma ladies golf league continued their usual Wednesday outings however a day of golfing with a luncheon planned with Kewaunee and Two Rivers clubs was cancelled due to the number of polio cases. Then the scheduled city donkey basketball game was cancelled. The not-to-be-missed event was another summer biggie.

To put things in perspective, R.C. Salisbury, Director of Safty Division at Wisconsin Motor Vehicle Department, pointed out that while there was a great demand for polio vaccine, many seemed unconcerned about children and traffic. He said among the 5-14 year olds, there was a far greater chance of dying in traffic than there was with polio.

To prove his point, Salisbury said that 13 children within the age group died of polio in 1954, while 43 kids in the same age group were killed as a result of traffic. Thirty-one were pedestrians. Salisbury said he was aware of the crippling effects of polio but traffic too resulted in death and permanent crippling injuries. He went on to say there were 33 injuries for every traffic death. How would Salisbury’s comments resonate today?

Algoma’s August 18 headline all but screamed about new polio restrictions, restrictions changing on the heels of the last change a few days earlier. Today’s grandparents know about quarantines. They were kids kept in their own yards and homes to stop the polio spread. In 1955 most mothers weren’t in the paid workforce so childcare and nutrition weren’t huge problems. City kids sneaked across back lots to play with friends, but sneaking was dicey. By August 18, nine Algoma kids had polio and one died. A 34- year-old county mother also died and one of the town chairmen was hospitalized. The young woman was completely paralyzed and in an iron lung at St. Vincent’s Hospital. The chairman was more fortunate. It was not only kids in danger.

Mayor Dick DeGuelle, Health Officer Dick Mraz, Fred Braun, chair of the health committee, and member Ludwig Wichman signed an order declaring Algoma to be in a state of emergency.  The declaration outlawed all public gatherings (entertainment or social), including religious or fraternal societies and forbid all sporting events. The pool and beach had been closed but then the beach was reopened and then closed. It was said new signage was swiftly posted.

The new order quarantined those 16 or younger. If one in the age group had a job, a special work permit was required to permit the youth to travel to and from the job. It was again stressed that church services be kept to a minimum and as short as possible. Attending services without the traditional 30- or 40-minute sermons seemed like a blessing to some. People were again cautioned to stay out of crowds and get plenty of rest to prevent fatigue and exhaustion. But no sooner than the city took drastic action, five new patients from Algoma were sent to St. Vincent’s. One was a young man on the highway improvement project in Algoma who had been boarding with a local resident. He was in an iron lung for 9 days before dying of bulbar polio, the worst kind.

Those who were kids in Algoma in 1955 can tell it like it was. Stock markets and the economy were not part of our young lives: friends and family were. All of us knew somebody hospitalized at St. Vincent’s. We knew kids in iron lungs were in very serious condition. It was bad enough when it happened to a neighbor or classmate’s family, but the terror of polio striking one’s own family is something this wordsmith can’t describe so many years later. My brother was in St. Vincent’s while Dad and my sibs were in bed with fevers. The severe headaches kept them down. Doctors were run ragged with house calls and parents making what was then a long trek to Green Bay were exhausted themselves. Hospitalized youngsters were isolated and cared for but the kids needed to see a parent’s face. 

There were ambulances, but things were different so many years ago. When Dad floored the Chevy to its limits on the old Highway 54, an officer pulled him over. As soon as the officer knew a polio was being transported, he told Dad to follow him. With lights flashing and sirens blaring, the road was cleared to St. Vincent’s. The day my brother was released was the best day in our family’s history. Other kids also began coming home. Some had life challenges and some are grandparents as they are beginning to experience the effects of polio – even the mild cases - so long ago.

Algoma restrictions included ashes, garbage and rubbish which needed to be kept in regulation cans with handles and tight fitting covers. Garbage had to be wrapped and fluids were not permitted to be disposed of in cans. Homeowners failing to keep their garbage cans clean and dry would be charged for disinfection by the city. If rules were not complied with, garbage would be left at the home. It was pointed out that such rules were always in effect, not just during the polio epidemic.

The paper continued pointing out the polio caseload while stressing assistance. Algoma rarely dealt with something of 1955’s scope and it was felt that complacency would add to the problems. Editor Harry Heidmann was always a man ahead of his time, and used the paper to educate rather than to spread fear. He said those who gave least in time and effort during fund drives expected the most in times of stress, but felt everybody should know what was available. Gamma Globulin shots were available free for those in contact with a polio victim, however there was a $2 clinic fee for Algoma doctors. Others, who got the shot as a preventative, would be charged more.

Heidmann noticed what he felt was a bit disconcerting. Algoma had taken so many precautions and yet polio cases weren’t showing patterns – they were springing up throughout the city.  Kewaunee’s known cases were clustered in the downtown area.

At the end of August, despite Algoma’s rigid precautions, there were 12 polio cases at St. Vincent’s.  Who knows how many were in bed at home? In late August it was said the polio epidemic was the worst in Kewaunee County history. By then the county had been in existence in a little over 150 years and had seen the Spanish flu of World War l and countless outbreaks of diphtheria and more.

The September 8, 1955 paper said the ban would be lifted the following Monday, September 12, when school would start and life would resume. The county still had polio cases and a Luxemburg girl died, however Algoma didn’t see a single case in the previous 10 days, the incubation period. Still, county schools opened. Brussels announced it was waiting another week. Luxemburg village schools and Gregorville rural school opened one day and closed again the next because of new cases, opening for good on the 19^th.

While closings were happening in Algoma and around Kewaunee County, Door County had only one polio case, but the county was pro-active in cancelling the long-awaited fair. The Door County resident had lived in Algoma until a week before diagnosis. Mishicot Lions Club cancelled their fair because the event attracted so many from southern Kewaunee County. Polio was sweeping northeastern Wisconsin and who knew where it would be the following day? Algoma was even sprayed by plane in an effort to stop the spread.

Senior citizens remember polio and epidemics that followed. We learned about FDR and “fear itself” in another context. We learned to be cautious and even learned patience, which was hard. Our parents followed the admonitions of our local leaders even when conditions were rapidly changing. If politicians were trying to score points, we didn’t know it. We were kids. We thought we were lucky when school opening was delayed, but then were overjoyed when schools reopened.

As life got back to normal, Health Officer Mraz thanked the city doctors, leaders, parents and even the children themselves. There are those who later said that Algoma came back from the brink of hell.

Sources and photos are from Algoma Record Herald.

The 1890s: Ahnapee is Lit Up

During mid-January 1891, the City of Sturgeon Bay announced an electrical lighting contract with Ahnapee’s A. Hamacek & Co. Adolph Hamacek had built an electric light plant in his foundry and machine shop at 6^th and Fremont Streets in neighboring Ahnapee, the first city on Wisconsin’s peninsula to have electric lighting. Sturgeon Bay was not about to be left behind. A Milwaukee gentleman announced in January 1892 that he was thinking of bringing electricity to Kewaunee. The Peninsula was getting lit-up in more ways than one.

The foundry and light plant at the northeast corner of Fremont and 6th Streets was destroyed by fire in 1895.

Adolph Hamacek's role in electric lighting seems to have had its start in 1883 when Adolph Bastar was operating his blacksmith shop of the northeast corner of Fremont and 6th Streets. It was then that Bastar  formed a partnership with Adolph and Anton Hamacek for the purposes of opening a foundry and machine shop. The company was called A. Hamacek and Co.

A look at the drawing above shows the machine shop operating in the old blacksmith shop at the left, or west, side of the complex. The men purchased a house and lot east of the blacksmith shop for $500 from businessman Samuel Perry. That became Hamacek's light plant. A livery stable was east of that.

The Hamaceks dissolved their partnership in August 1891 when Adolph moved to Sturgeon Bay to tend to that business. Anton remained in Ahnapee to take care of that part of the business,.and in 1892, Anton installed a second boiler to obtain additional power. His building had electric lights and city businessmen were looking toward making use of such marvelous technology.

In 1893 Joseph Wodsedalek became the principal owner in the company owned by himself, Anton Hamacek and August Zeimer. For a time the company name reflected the three men but it was shortened to Jos. Wodsedalek and Co. Later in 1893 Hamacek was bought out by his partners. As with so many early businesses, the Fremont and 6th St. site was completely destroyed by fire in 1895. Wodsedalek rebuilt on the northeast corner of 4th and N. Water Streets and the new light plant was up and running on Halloween 1895.

The 1909 fire map locates Wodsedalek's foundry.

Wodsedalek's foundry is at the right of this Kannerwurf, Sharpe Johnson Collection postcard, postmarked 1908. The foundry itself was closer to N Water while the light plant was closer to the Ahnapee River.

It was electric lights that brought about Ahnapee’s Ordinance No. 35** in March 1890. Section 1 dealt with permission for Adolph Hamacek and his successors to erect and operate electric lights in the city. Section 1 also gave him right-aways through the streets and alleys of the city, as the city was then or would become, for laying out poles and  wires, erecting them or maintaining them, or for supplies. The unusual thing about the Ordinance was that all placing of poles and stringing of wires was to be done under supervision of the council. Did council members understand electricity? They did have one caveat. Poles were not to be put on bridges. Section 5 of the Ordinance addressed failure: if the electrical promises weren’t met within two years, Ahnapee’s contract with Hamacek would be null and void. Poles and equipment would need to be taken down.

 Section 1 dealt with permission for Adolph Hamacek and his successors to erect and operate electric lights in the city. Section 1 also gave him right-aways through the streets and alleys of the city, as the city was then or would become, for laying out poles and  wires, erecting them or maintaining them, or for supplies. The unusual thing about the Ordinance was that all placing of poles and stringing of wires was to be done under supervision of the Council. Did Council members understand electricity? They did have one caveat: poles were not to be put on bridges. Section 5 of the Ordinance addressed failure: if the electrical promises weren’t met within two years, Ahnapee’s contract with Hamacek would be rendered null and void. Poles and equipment would need to be taken down.

It didn’t take long for the city to realize the importance of electricity, but in the beginning, Adolph Hamacek was far from being in the driver’s seat.

Late in May 1890, Ahnapee Record said Hamacek manufactured a steam engine and other equipment and then attached two incandescent lamps to test the machinery. The two lamps indicated that Hamacek was correct in his thinking. It was felt the lights could have been brighter, however the event was a trial run and folks didn’t expect much. The Record said equipment would be adjusted and capacity would be increased. Hamacek’s plans included increasing machinery capacity so that in the months to come, several city buildings would have electricity as his foundry and machine shop did. Prominent businessmen were lining up to secure electricity.

As with anything new, there were things to work out and when the dynamo in the electrical equipment was disabled by some burning wires, it was called one of the “unavoidable occurrences” that happened to any business. The occurrence meant that the city was without electricity for nearly a week before the new dynamo was delivered.

Things changed in April 1892 when Anton Hamacek took over lighting the city, and as the successor, he abided by Ordinance 9. Hamacek furnished 3 more lights of 2000 candle power placed as Council directed within the original limits and one in the Third Ward. The cost was $300 per annum and would be paid in monthly installments. Since the Third Ward was outside the original limits, the city planned to compensate Hamacek for erecting, operating and maintaining lights there.

Late June 1893 saw Hamacek’s foundry, known as Ahnapee Foundry and Machine Shop, becoming a partnership with Joseph Wodsedalek and August Ziemer (with Anton Hamacek} and called Joseph Wodsedalek & Co. The plant was overhauled and Wodsedalek said he was ready to do any business with short notice for reasonable prices. Having experience in several businesses, the men felt the new company would meet all expectations.

Then came Ordinance No. 10, another dealing with the transmission of electricity. This time, in 1895, the ordinance granted exclusive franchise to Joseph Wodsedalek for 5 years, from November 20, 1895 – November 20, 1900. Wodsedalek’s boundaries increased, running on the north from the street or alley at the north side of the schoolhouse, Joint District No. Two, in the Third Ward, to the shore of Lake Michigan, south along the lake to the southern boundary of Boalt’s Addition to the City of Ahnapee, then west to a point where Buchanan Street intersects. The line ran through the center of Buchanan back to where it started in the Third Ward. The right of way granted to Wodsedalek and his successors permitted them to go through, under, or over the streets and alleys, however they would not be unnecessarily obstructed by poles, wires and appliances. Anything considered an obstruction was to be removed by Wodsedalek at his expense. Section 3 of the ordinance required Wodsedalek to furnish all (again) the electricity desired by the city and its residents in the bounded area. The ordinance stipulated that Wodsedalek or his successors could enter any home, at a reasonable hour, to determine service for customers who demanded it. Except for the city, customers would be billed one month in advance.

Most of the ordinance written for Wodsedalek was as it was for Hamacek before him, however the new ordinance reflected a growing city with far more expectations than the novelty 5 years earlier.

As for Adolph Hamacek who started it all, he left Algoma in 1892 to live in Sturgeon Bay. A year earlier Sturgeon Bay’s common council approved the provisions of a contract with Adolph Hamacek. Residents were told the system – 9 lights of 2,000 candle power each - would be going “full blast” within 6 months. Cost to the city was to be $1,000 annually, and the lights would be kept burning all night. The lighting plant would be located on Cedar Street. But what happened? The December 12, 1899 Algoma Record told readership that in another 5 or 6 weeks, Hamacek would have an electric light system in operation by June 1.

An August 1895 Milwaukee Journal carried an article about another of Hamacek’s inventions. The paper said he had invented and received patents on a method of propelling street cars by an underground system of electrical currents. Hamacek’s invention was tested and operating successfully, thus solving a problem that had attracted investors for years.

Adolph Hamacek had a significant impact on Kewaunee County and far beyond. What began as Hamacek's foundry was a prominent Algoma, and Kewaunee County, business and employer for just over 100 years. The Hamacek family itself had a wide influence on Kewaunee County commerce. But that's another story.

This view of the foundry appeared in Algoma Record Herald in 1962. 

There were substantial remodelings and additions.

Notes:
** Ordinance 35 would later also deal with waterworks and a city electric light plant.
Ahnapee was renamed Algoma in 1897,

Sources: Ahnapee Record/Algoma Record/Algoma Record Herald; An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?; History of Commercial Development in Algoma, WI, Vol. 1; Sturgeon Bay Advocate.

Graphics are sourced, however that drawing's origins are unclear. It can be found in Vol. 1 of History of Commercial Development in Algoma, WI and is used with permission.

** Ordinance No. 35 would later also deal with waterworks and a city electric light plant.

Ahnapee/Algoma & the MacArthur Family

Douglas MacArthur
from Wikipedia

Those of a certain age need not be historians to recognize the name Douglas MacArthur. They remember the general’s World War ll fame and again in Korea when, then, President Harry Truman fired him in 1951. MacArthur came back to life in an episode in the TV show M.A.S.H. when it was reported he’d be inspecting the unit. As it was, it was Radar who posed as the general riding through the village during one of the Colonel Blake’s practice runs. The general never did appear at the 177^th..

So, what does MacArthur have to do with a blog that focuses on Kewaunee County and specifically on Algoma? Actually, quite a bit.

MacArthurs were a Wisconsin family. General Douglas MacArthur’s father, Arthur MacArthur, distinguished himself in the Civil War, alongside some of the boys from Ahnepee*. Arthur was 17 years old when he went off to war in 1862 with others of the 24^th Wisconsin Voluntary Infantry. MacArthur's regiment lost 40% of its men at Stone's River in the battle from December 31, 1862 to January 2, 1863.

Battle of Missionary Ridge
from  https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/beyond-battle-arthur-macarthur-jr

Young MacArthur missed part of the battle at Chattanooga (November 1863) because of illness, but he was at Missionary Ridge a few days later when the mission of the 24^th was to clear the Confederate rifle pits at the foot of the mountain.

When the General later told his father’s story, he said that  although orders were unclear, the flag of the 24^th went forward. As the color bearer went down, a corporal was bayoneted just as he grabbed the flag. A shell killed the next man and then MacArthur, the adjutant who got the flag, yelled “On Wisconsin”, and kept going through a sea of gray, followed by a division of blue coats. When the Union army took the hill, it was again, “On Wisconsin,” and Wisconsin’s flag was waving. General Phil Sheridan said young MacArthur was due for a Medal of Honor. He was a hero of Missionary Ridge and, at 19, was made colonel. Douglas MacArthur would later write that his father was congratulated by General Sheridan on a job well done and that Sheridan said that they had not lost a foot of ground.

Over 150 years following the end of the Civil War, the flags have a place in Wisconsin history. Battle flags of the 9^th, 14^th, 21^st and 24^th Wisconsin regiments were there when veterans of those units and the 27^th held a reunion in Milwaukee during September 1885. For the impressive event, the Agricultural Society furnished tents, admittance and foods that included hard tack, pork and beans and coffee. Goodrich steamers carried veterans from the Peninsula and Manitowoc for half price.

“On Wisconsin” became the rallying cry for the University of Wisconsin sports’ teams and, in essence, a state song. As a university fight song, it came into being in 1909. Although the song has since been modified from the original, just as the Civil War flag bearers pepped up their companies and regiments, the spirited song has the line, “forward in battle we will win the stand.”

Arthur McArthur was one of 11 Union colonels who took the Union army up Kennesaw Mountain in 1864. At Franklin, Tennessee, it was the 24^th Wisconsin that saved the day. After the war, the 24^th – which lost 2/3 of its men and officers - marched through Milwaukee, welcomed by cheering crowds. Ahnepee tinsmith Leopold Meyer served as a corporal in Co. H, 24^th Wisconsin Infantry. He returned to the village and died in 1894. When Algoma resident Charles Bisch died in February 1918, the Record felt older residents would remember him even though Bisch had lived in Port Washington for years. Bisch enlisted in the 24^th as soon as the war broke out. Bisch was wounded at the Battle of Stone’s River and taken prisoner. He was sent to Libbey prison in Richmond and suffered privations beyond our imagination.

Most Kewaunee County men served in the 14^th, 21^st and 27^th Wisconsin, and many were in the same battles as MacArthur. One was Peter Simon who was with the 21^st. He was captured several times and was a Confederate prisoner. Peter apparently had a cat’s nine lives because he escaped almost that many times.

John McDonald and Charley Ross were two Ahnepee men who joined the Chicago Board of Trade Regiment which also saw action in the same battles as MacArthur. McDonald, a hero at Missionary Ridge, lost his right arm there. He went on to say years later, that he lost his “good” right arm there. Charley Ross lost his left arm at Stone’s River.

Lieut. General Arthur MacArthur – his rank in 1911 – planned to become a private citizen after mustering out with the rest of the 24^th on June 10, 1865. Forty-five years later, in June 1910, West Kewaunee’s (Commander) T.G. Chapman went to the GAR Encampment at Fond du Lac expecting to meet, Arthur MacArthur, his old colonel. Thomas Chapman was 82 when he died in 1923. Chapman settled in Montpelier where he was a longtime resident before moving to West Kewaunee. He also lived in Kewaunee for about a dozen years. Politically prominent for 45 years, Chapman, at the time of his death, was the county’s oldest Free Mason. He enlisted in Co. K, 24^th Wisconsin and was at Perryville, Stone’s River, Lookout Mountain, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Kennesaw Mountain and Franklin, Tennessee, where he was involved in hand-to-hand combat.

Camp MacArthur - photo from wacohistory.org

World War l Camp MacArthur at Waco, Texas was named for General Arthur MacArthur, Jr. 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.The MacArthur connection with Kewaunee County continued.

Arthur MacArthur’s son Douglas was first in his class at West Point, won silver stars in World War l and the Medal of Honor in World War ll. MacArthur’s first connection with Algoma came over 40 years earlier when he was a young lieutenant just out of West Point. At the time, it was customary for the graduates to have practical experience and MacArthur was a military assistant, working out of the U.S. engineering office in Milwaukee. He came to town in 1908 to direct the caisson sinking for the rebuilding of the north pier. Caissons sunk in MacArthur’s time were built in Kewaunee, floated to Algoma, sunk in position and filled in. The land connection to the breakwater was rebuilt in 1932, and, in 1935, the breakwater section running north and south was recapped. If anyone with MacArthur’s prominence was associated with it, it has been forgotten.

It doesn’t stop there, however.

Stapling plys to boat hulls in the Boat Works in 1943

During the World War ll, Algoma Plywood and Veneer Co. (U.S. Plywood) 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.

Men from Algoma, and across Kewaunee County, serving in the Pacific during World War ll, and then again in Korea in the 1950s, served under Douglas MacArthur.

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.

History gets lost as the days turn into years and years turn into decades.

^Ahnepee was the spelling until the place achieved village status in 1873. It was then that the spelling was changed to "Ahnapee."

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 photo is from the blogger's collection and the others were found online and sourced..