Kewaunee County Ice Storms: 1922 & 2022

If the ice storm on February 21-22 held off for only two more days, it would have been exactly one hundred years since newspaper headlines screamed what residents knew by just glancing out the window. It was written in 1922 that Wisconsin experienced its biggest ice storm ever. But what was “ever?” “Ever” in Kewaunee County would date to May 1852 when the county was  split off from Door. Since the Enterprise started publishing in 1859, “ever” might have started them.

The 1922 storm started out much as the 2022 storm did. Both dawned with a day before that was mild, but windy. It was 50 degrees on Sunday in 2022. The next day started off normally in both 1922 and 2022, but then the rain started. There was sleet, more rain, snow, thunder and lightning in no particular order, but the kinds of weather kept changing. The difference was that in 1922, the storm went on for four days.

TV channels began running closures during the late afternoon of February 21, 2022, while in 1922, folks looked outdoors to make decisions. Most still had horses, and who’d subject a horse to such weather when it wasn’t necessary?

One-hundred years apart, folks looked out the window on the morning of February 22^nd, or 24^th, to see snow and ice sticking to the trees, fences and whatever else was in the yard. Both years saw more snow and ice throughout the day. The biggest difference in the one hundred years was that in 1922 the heavy ice broke tree branches which landed on the ice coated wires and poles, ensuring that wires kept snapping until the storm was over. There was devastation in Kewaunee and fallen wires were scattered all over the city. About thirty light poles snapped, and who knows how many telephone poles came down?

Wisconsin property loss was in the millions with power, telephone, telegraph, and transportation companies bearing the brunt. It was felt repairing Wisconsin telephone lines would cost at least two million. Those who had electric service through the Kewaunee Electric Light Plant were told it would be at least 30 days before power could be restored. A little more than two weeks after the storm, the Peninsular Service Co. completed work on their lines near Kewaunee. That company’s damage estimate was about $11,000 as that loss was the heaviest on the Kewaunee line. Kewaunee’s mercantiles selling lamps, flashlights, candles, lanterns, and lamp chimneys provided a bright spot in the local economy. Those who were just beginning to experience what electricity had to offer were back to the “old days.”

Wisconsin Public Service had eighty men repairing damage about three miles north of Kewaunee near Fred Leudtke’s in Pierce where twenty-two poles were down. Frozen ground made digging holes to sink the new poles difficult. Without the equipment of 100 years later, it took two men an entire day to dig one hole. The damage near Luedtke’s was due to a lack of buffer from the strong Lake Michigan winds.

Kewaunee’s telephone company thought it was looking at the same schedule as the electric companies, however rural telephones were said to be crippled. Both the Ryan and Horseshoe Telephone Companies’ lines and poles were almost completely down. Ryan said it would be spring before any attempt would be made to restore service. Kodan's telephone company saw heavy losses as most poles were damaged. As it was, so many repairmen - including some from Michigan - came to the area that hotels were booming. On March 17, Algoma Record Herald announced the city's telephone service was restored. It would take weeks more in rural areas. What made things more difficult for the city, and the rural areas, was that there was no fund set aside for emergencies.

The loss in area shade trees and orchard trees was unimaginable. Mr. Shestock said his orchard near Algoma was probably damaged for the year, however the J.A. Dworak orchard near Casco escaped with minor problems. The Enterprise said Sturgeon Bay orchards were destroyed, however Algoma Record said a week later that Sturgeon Bay orchards came through the storm unscathed. The State said ice sheets covering fields of winter wheat, rye, clover, and alfalfa were smothering the fields. Without power, if an industry functioned, it was by their own manpower.

The 1922 ice storm interrupted mail service. With telephone and telegraph wires down, communities were isolated, however most adults had spent much of their lives living that way. One-hundred years later, the loss of TV, computers, and cell phone access is enough to melt their grandchildren. Five days after the 1922 storm, the first train left Kewaunee. It was carrying ninety-two sacks of out-going mail. Since February 22, 1922 was George Washington's birthday, mail service was cancelled, however the net day the storm had started and mail service was again curtailed.

The last train reaching Algoma was the night prior to the 1922 storm. Snow and ice buried the tracks to such an extent that the railroad track clearing equipment was powerless. It was a herculean effort by every available man who worked with picks and shovels from Thursday into Monday to clear the tracks.

Several Slovan people were surprised on the Sunday following the storm when they walked to the track to see how the crew was doing cutting up the ice. Rather than watching, they were given shovels and picks to help dig. In all, 24 Slovan men, and two teams, helped and got to Casco Junction the next day, Monday. Reports were that all had sore backs. Green Bay was without railroad service for three days. Salesmen marooned in Algoma traveled to Luxemburg via sleighs, hoping to get on a train there. Algoma residents trying to return to the city were caught in Luxemburg where they remained for a few days.

Heavy snow and ice caused the warehouse behind Algoma Foundry and Machine Company to collapse. Although the loss was small because the contents were saved, the entire warehouse was torn down and rebuilt. Following the storm, Street Commissioner Kinnard spent days sanding the treacherous sidewalks. Walking was not safe.

A heavy load of snow and ice caused the cave-in at hardware and farm machinery merchant, Joseph Drossart & Sons’, machine shed. Numerous hay loaders, mows, and side delivery rakes were in the shed, but were not damaged. It took several men to accomplish the cleanup and repair the roof. The cave-in amounted to hundreds which was not covered by insurance.

The day following the worst of the storm, Thursday, February 25, 1922, the sun rose “bright and beautiful,” a scene hard to describe. Icy though things were, Kewaunee residents were out enjoying a fairyland. The Enterprise felt that those who did not see the beauty amid the destruction would probably not see anything like that for 50 years.

By St. Patrick’s Day 1922, the ice was breaking up and blockading along the Kewaunee River. Clyde Bridge was in danger of being swept away. A week later, ice in the Ahnapee River began breaking up when a huge ice jam formed against the 4^th Street Bridge, which was in danger of being lost. Dynamite was used to break the jam while men worked for an entire day to clear a passage in the river.

Newspaper reports in 1922 say the storm was the worst in the Fox Valley, Oshkosh, Appleton and Chilton, and those places suffered losses of over a million dollars. The City of Kewaunee was the hardest hit area in Kewaunee County. When the Enterprise said residents wouldn’t see a storm like that for 50 years, it was wrong. It took just two days short of one hundred years. When one hundred years marks a special occasion, cake and coffee are generally part of marking the anniversary. Not this time: it was cuss words.

Accessed on February 22, 2022, https://www.weather.gov says the storm of 1922 still stands out as Wisconsin’s worst ice storm. And, as Little Orphan Annie sings, "The sun'll come out tomorrow..."

Sources: Algoma Record Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise, https://www.weather.gov

From Newman to Bearcat: Ahnapee/Algoma and 4th & Navarino

 

Bearcat's No More- February 2022

When Andy LaFond left Algoma a dozen or so years ago, a long history of commercial fishing went with him. The fire at Bearcat’s during the summer of 2021, and the subsequent decision to close the store, was the demise of another long history. The fire at Bearcat’s was not the location’s first. In 1883, there was another conflagration, one that affected local business.

The fish in the river and in the lake were a food source for the first three settling families who arrived in the wildness – today’s  Algoma - in the week ending on July 4, 1851, just as the fish were for the Potawatomi people along the lakeshore for eons. Almost 170 years later, those who were not fisherfolk themselves knew where to get fresh fish. And that was in town.

Bearcat’s was a destination, and its closing affects the local economy. Its location is historic. Dating nearly to first settlement, the location had an economic prominence, which waxed and waned in all that time, but economic nonetheless.

A potash ash maker by trade, Jonathon Newman opened his potashery on the site that became Bearcat’s, the northwest corner of 4^th and Navarino in the Fiebrantz Plat, which appears to be Algoma’s smallest plat extending, from 4^th Street to the east side of 6^th Street, from the north side of Navarino to the river.

Newman’s potashery business and Hall’s lumber mills were the first industrial ventures in Wolf River, Algoma’s first name. Newman opened his potash factory in the late 1850s, however business was not very successful. By 1865, Michael Luckenbach had purchased the property, converting it to a tannery, although the potashery kettles remained for years and figured into the play of area kids. 

Two years later, in 1867, the Luckenbach-Melchoir Co. was running ads in the Enterprise although ownership records indicate the property was owned by Luckenbach, Melchoir, and Peter Anhauser. John Van Meverden, who had been employed by Luckenbach, bought half interest in the tannery, which was refitted it with new machinery. Van Meverdan and Luckenbach were co-owners until August 1873 when they dissolved their partnership. Van Meverdan became the tannery's sole owner.

The Record informed readership that Van Meverdan was turning out fine leather goods in addition to selling plastering hair, but then Van Meverdan's business caught fire in July 1883. Luckily, the firemen were able to extinguish the fire before the business was a total loss. Although the fire's origins were not clear, it was felt that coal and ashes falling into the liquid mixing vat was the cause. Insurance covered damages estimated to fall between $200 and $300, which translates to 7,000 to 8,000 dollars in 2022.

Meverden continued tannery operations until he closed and sold the property in April 1889. During the same year, city voters passed a bond issue in favor of relocating the Kelsey Fly Net Co.to the site. Prior to its relocation, George Kelsey, Sr. briefly operated on the second floor of the panel factory and in Marr’s Lace factory. Once again, the tannery was outfitted with new machinery, but this time for making flynets, which were made by fastening cords on a loom and tying the cords to make a net. The nets had dangling strings and when put on a horse, the nets shake and drive flies away.

Flynets

Kelsey wasn’t in business there for long and left the 4^th and Navarino site by 1895. After standing in disuse from then on, the building - the oldest of the city’s pioneer manufactories - was torn down by Frank Novak in February 1915. February 2022 saw Bearcat’s lot completely bare.

It was in 1939 that Cities Service distributor Henry G. Muench announced the construction of a gas station on the corner. It was operated by Leon Kashik. A year later, George Brey took over. Brey had the business until about 1965 when Ralph Scherer rented and operated the station until 1974. In 1987 Chuck and Cindy Bohman opened Toot’s Fish and Galley, which offered retail sales of fish, fish plates, sandwiches, and deli items. Norman and Rita Paul bought the property in 1990 when Mrs. Paul had an H & R Block office. Since Linda and Jerry Berkovitz purchased the property in 1996, Bearcat’s Fish Shop has been a fixture on the corner until the fire. Bill and Nicole Smith bought the shop in 2012 and owned it at the time of the fire.

For the first time in almost 170 years, one can no longer purchase fresh fish in Algoma. But one can no longer purchase potash, have leather tanned in town, or purchase Cities Service gas either. However, in the event you are building and want to do your own plastering, John Van Meverdan left his 1888 recipe for enough plaster to cover 100 sq. yards of wall: 8 bushels of lime, 16 bushels of sand, and 1 bushel of horsehair, but it might be hard to find that much horsehair!

Note: The surname Van Meverdan eventually became Meverden.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald, An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, Commercial History of Algoma, Wisconsin, Vol. 1, Kewaunee Enterprise. The flynets are a portion of an oil painting and used with permission.

Ahnapee Baptist Church: Trouble Right Here in River City

 

Today’s Algoma is a faith-filled community, many identifying with one of the area church congregations. The community was Kewaunee County’s first permanently settled place during the week that ended on July 4, 1851. Early settlers’ religious needs were met by itinerant clergy known as circuit riders, and congregations organized quickly. In 1858 a Lutheran church was built on the north side of the river. Catholics organized the following year and built a church in 1863. A German Methodist Episcopal congregation was formed on the county line in 1861 while  Methodist church was built at 4^th and Fremont in 1863. In 1873, the Baptists had organized and were meeting on 3rd and Clark, By late 1874, it seemed - with the exception of the Episcopal church which had yet to be organized - they were all building.

Althought it was Abraham Hall who instigated the Baptist congregation, it was the blind preacher, Rev. George P. Guild, who did the organizing. The small congregation was made up with many of those credited with much of the community’s early history. The small congregation that disbanded in 1894 brought “trouble right here in river city.”

Trouble in Ahnapee’s fledgling Baptist church turned to scandal in May 1881 when the remaining congregation wanted financial reports following the departure of the minister. Where was all the money raised for the Union Church that was never built? Membership was unable to get satisfaction regarding finances before the first minister left. Distrust followed his successor, and depending on which story is to be believed, the congregation was on-again-off again for years until it finally disbanded in 1894. Animosity affected townsfolk whether they were members or not, and it remains unclear if the financial matters were ever sorted out.

Ahnapee’s Baptist congregation was organized in 1873 by Rev. George P. Guild who immediately led the efforts to build a church that stood at 3^rd and Clark Streets. Church women’s groups worked tirelessly over the years to raise funds through oyster suppers, maple syrup events, Christmas bazaars 4^th of July festivals and more.

Rev. J. Banta was serving the Methodists of Ahnapee and Carlton when Guild came to begin his Ahnapee ministry. In March 1974, Banta ran a logging bee on itinerant minister Hela Carpenter’s land to cut timber for the new Ahnapee Methodist church at 4^th and Fremont. The April 16, 1874 Record quoted the Milwaukee Christian Statesman’s interview of Rev. J. Banta who told about those in Ahnapee and Carlton crying for the love of God and forgiveness, desiring salvation. He told about the numbers baptized at both places, some who had been in habits of drunkenness and tippling. Banta said the Baptist brethren at Ahnapee were having good success under the leadership of Bro. George P. Guild, a blind pastor who was aided by his wife, laboring in the Lord to save the place. It sounded as if Ahnapee was a den of iniquity. The Catholics and Lutherans of the place were not mentioned, however those congregations were organized nearly 15 years earlier. Interesting as it is, the Methodist Rev. Carpenter filled in for Baptist pastors.  The adjacent picture post card from the blogger's collection predates the 1937 fire that destroyed the building, the once Baptit Church at the southwest corner of 4th and Fremont.

After a ministry of about five years, a May 1878 the Record noted Rev. Guild was in town visiting before leaving for his new home in Portage. Having resided in Ahnapee for about 5 years, the paper noted his accomplishments in building up the church to the point where it could sustain a pastor, an attraction for drawing a new pastor. Guild was wished well as he went on to serve as a general missionary in Wisconsin.

A year and a half later, October 1879, former Ahnapee pastor Rev. Guild led the Wisconsin State Baptist Anniversary at Fox Lake. Untiring efforts in Ahnapee were mentioned. The Standard, a religious paper, mentioned Rev. John Churchill of Ahnapee, who followed Guild, while saying there was no Baptist preacher between Ahnapee and Milwaukee. That paper said the poor people in the “new country” were without preaching for years. The paper told about Churchill’s trip in the northern part of the peninsula where he walked nine miles to and back for an appointment, the mention of which “touched the hearts” of the ”good sisters” who began raising funds for a horse for Churchill. At the close of the convention sermon, “Brother Churchill” was called forward and presented a cup filled with money for the purchase of a horse. Brother Churchill said he felt “his cup had runover.” By October 1879, the Baptists were meeting in a new building at the southwest corner of 4^th and Fremont, now the site of Algoma Public Library.

When Guild arrived in 1873, he found 9 Baptists from Ahnapee and one from Kewaunee. He baptized 27,  and 16 more joined by letter. Eighteen of them either left the church or died by the time Guild was leaving town. The first serious trouble came when remaining congregants wanted a financial report. But Guild left and members never got one.

Controversaries within the Baptist congregation exploded during 1881, when the Record published a letter, signed by one who called himself/herself “Justice,” taking issue at goings-on at the Baptist Church. The letter pointed to the blind preacher, and to accuse a blind preacher of corruption within the church was something few would do. The facts – at least as they were known to be by author of a letter to the editor - were carefully laid out in a series of missives. The paper called the affair a “confidence game.”

Justice’s information came from a trustee and one who served on the building committee of the “Union Church.” The church was called a failure although the trustee disputed “failure.” In the year 1862-63 Presbyterian Elder Donaldson periodically preached in the schoolhouse. Ten years later the Baptist edifice was built. Area population was small, times were hard, money was scarce, and because there were a few Presbyterians, a few Methodists and a few Baptists, the proposition was made to build a Union church. Within a half hour, enough money was raised to build a church estimated to cost from $800 to $1000.

In mid-May 1881, Baptist Church treasurer William Hilton wrote a letter to Mr. Barnes, editor of the Record, disputing what he called a malicious letter from “Justice.” However, Hilton did write about the "hypocrite preacher who prays and takes opportunities to pick pockets." He called the preacher a sneak thief and said the Sunday school was better before.

Hilton pointed out the scarceness of money and the decision to build a Union Church for Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians, but said the Methodists cancelled their representation in the Union Church and wanted to abandon the idea when W. B. Selleck said he would donate a site to the Methodists and personally pay what could not be raised to build. The Union Church organizing ended and subscription papers were burned.

Hilton said the monies raised had gone into the minister’s pocket and there was no accountability. Hilton said he did not care how the pastor spent his own money, although charged him with immorality and dishonesty which was an “open secret” in Ahnapee. The preacher left when there were only 8 active members left, going on to cause more trouble, and Hilton felt there was “honor among thieves” as a “Christian virtue.”

Hilton also claimed Guild failed to keep records. He said Guild never built a church and that folks were dissatisfied because he had no energy. Guild was said to build a house with some of the money, and when Hilton accused him of stealing church money, there was no denial. Hilton questioned money he was owed by Guild who said Hilton’s money got credited to A. Hall & Co.

Guild left and was replaced by Rev. Churchill. In April 1881, it became known that Rev. Churchill was resigning as pastor of the Baptist church although some wanted to retain him as an evangelist. The Guild accounting spilled over to Churchill and there were questions in the congregation, such as who would control the church and whether divine services would continue in the building. Churchill was engaged for another 6 months and at the first evening service following the re-engagement, he gave his reasons for staying while he had fully intended to leave. He said he remained not to cause discord, but because he had agreed to stay for a specified sum and felt it was wrong not to accept the call.

By mid-1881, Abraham Hall's brother Simon Hall got into the act, casting slurs on the character of “Public Sentiment,” another of the writers to the paper. Editor Barnes took issue with Mr. Hall waging war on a private individual who wrote on behalf of an outraged community. Barnes said the paper wanted to be “counted out” in the private warfare among citizens and continued saying that every communication in support of the preacher “simply adds another nail to his coffin.” The paper went on saying, “Truth is mighty and will prevail, therefore if he is innocent the fact will be established in due time and his friends need not tear their hair on that account." Barnes said the paper was not prejudiced in the matter but did have the welfare of the community at heart thus would always labor for protection of the right and suppression of the wrong.

Hall said the former pastor elevated the moral and religious standing in the community. Hall questioned the credibility of Public Sentiment while hoping Editor Barnes would not throw his letter in the waste basket. Hall said he was not a member of the church and had no religious ties with it.

Public Sentiment said $8,000 was raised for a new church although Hall declared he got copies of the subscriptions and a total of 34 people donated $1,238.75, but not all in cash. The balance was paid in material and labor, but what is the value of that, he asked? Hall understood the Ladies’ Christian Association contributed a large amount, making the total about $1500. He felt it was the untiring work of the ladies and the perseverance of the blind preacher that built the church. According to Hall, the church was built under disadvantages when contributions of labor and material could not be obtained when wanted. There was no competent master mechanic to direct the labor, therefore parts of the interior were torn down and rebuilt. A lack of funds, labor and materials called for the necessity of building paper, also called tar paper. Hall said the church was built piecemeal and went on to list expenses and sources of payment. The Methodist, Episcopal and Lutheran churches were built with the same kind of contributions, many in contributions of material or labor. Costs were excessive for the Baptist church, but it was the swindling. When Guild left, the congregation gave him a recommendation. Nobody questioned anything until he left town.

Hall called attention to more than blindness, saying Mr. Guild had an invalid family to support while his health was in decline. He thought the preacher had more friends after the “tide of calumny” than before, however if there were charges, they needed to be brought forth and dealt with. They were wounding an already inflicted man.

Early in May 1881. Rev. John Churchill had served the Baptist church for three years when he said he was giving his last sermon. The large crowd paid close attention, rather than the usual whispering of the young, which said the Record, was ill-breeding and bad manners. Churchill’s text concerning every man’s work was taken from 1st Corinthians.

Churchill discussed responsibilities of a minister and his flock, pointing out that every minister’s work would stand the test of time set forth in scripture. He acknowledged his resignation because of the differences in opinion on the transactions connected to building the church. It was impossible for a divided church to be successful. Christian churches owe fairness to their sister churches and when he became pastor, he was given to understand there were 45 members with a church that cost $4000, but he couldn’t see where the money was spent. That the church was misrepresented was unfair to him. The congregation felt it could not raise money to keep the pastor on, but they hoped he could serve other denominations.

When a May 26, 1881 letter to the editor was written, its author questioned the information from the preacher saying only 34 of the 800 English speakers in Ahnapee and the area contributed toward the building. The church itself had 53 members when the pastor left, prompting the possibility of over one-third of the members not contributing anything. It kept going. Churchilll lacked information.

The letter’s author claimed to have a list of over 200 who donated, some several times, though he knew his list was incomplete. The author said the preacher (Guild) failed to keep records while doing the collecting and spending himself. While Guild – referred to as Simple Simon – said he collected $193 in cash, the author had concrete evidence that at least $1300 was donated, however it was felt the total was more like $1800-2000. It was shown that the church was $500 in debt while pointing out that vouchers, treasurer’s reports, and so on had disappeared. Contention was that the fraud bilked other churches out of money because those of other faiths charitably offered monetary assistance for the Union church.

The letter writer identified himself as “Public Sentiment,” reflecting the outraged and swindled public who had the “right to ventilate the rascalities of a dishonest, lecherous old fraud” who pretended to fulfill the gospel. Furthermore, “Under the guise of his sacred calling, he has swindled men out of their money under the pretenses of building a church, and entered the homes of our people and insulted unsuspecting women.”

Public Sentiment said the public press was right to expose the duplicity of the minister – a public man – who set himself up as a teacher of morality and religion, and thus thought he was excused from accountability or criticism. The minister countered with his integrity being questioned until he left Ahnapee.

It was said there were substantiated charges in Milwaukee as well, however they were suppressed because of politics. Public Sentiment felt the Guild left Ahnapee because he couldn’t steal anymore and that it was getting “too hot” for him.

While money was raised in every conceivable way, Public Sentiment felt the exact cost of the Baptist Church would probably never be told. When “Simple Simon” left, the church was not finished and the “discordant and unharmonious” membership was left with a $500 mortgage and a floating debt of $200.

The Guild animosity kept on going and nearly spilled into the Enterprise which made it known in June 1881 that it received a letter about the “Baptist muddle” in Ahnapee but would not publish it.

Rev. Churchill seemed caught in the middle and, no doubt, had it when he gave his second farewell address in mid-July 1881. Churchhill again based his remarks on Corinthians - this time 2nd - the 14^th verse of Chapter 13. The paper said though the remarks were brief, they were well chosen and commanded strict attention. It went on to say he was leaving in a spirit of good-will and would probably permanently settle in Iowa after a stint in Sheboygan. Those sorry to see him leave Ahnapee felt at least he would no longer be venomously attacked as the target of unscrupulous acts.

By 1894, the congregation had disbanded and its building sold to Hanford Hall who turned it into a hotel known as the Dormer House. For a time, it was used as a furniture store before becoming Door-Kewaunee Normal School. The building was destroyed by fire and rebuilt. In 1972, the building was sold to the City of Algoma and is currently used as Algoma Public Library and city offices including the police department.

1950s postcard of Door Kewaunee County College; now Algoma's municipal offices' center

Sources: Ahnapee Record, An-An-api-sebe: Where is the River?, Commercial History of Algoma, WI, Vol. 1, Kewaunee Enterprise. Postcards are in the blogger's collection.

 

Barbed Wire & Ahnapee's Tifft and Hay Hardware Store

Barbed wire is something few have on their things-to-research-list, although barbed wire had an impact on settlement of the west and farming in general. The upbeat Farmer and the Cowman Must be Friends from the Rogers and Hammerstein musical, Oklahoma, puts fences into Broadway musical theater. Barbed wire has a history.

Such wire is something we see little of today. Rural America remembers it while their city slicker cousins know little about it. Wikipedia tells us one Joseph Glidden of DeKalb, Illinois, applied for a patent in October 1873. His patent? Glidden developed a new kind of wiring using sharp barbs, and that wiring changed the face and the future of farming. The wire was really a cable formed by twisting two or more wires, and then twisting barbs, within a few inches of each other, around that.

Barbed wire caught on fast and by late January 1879, a bill was introduced into the Wisconsin Assembly revising statutes relating to barbed wire in fences. Ahnapee’s Tifft and Hay hardware store was on the cutting edge. Within a few years, they had the Door County market as well.

Barbed wire was far better for controlling cattle than smooth wire, log fences or hedges. Since barbed wire fences only called for fence posts, it was popular on the plains where wood was in short supply. It meant Wisconsin fences could be built more easily following the Great Fire of 1871, but the wire was expensive. Wikipedia puts its cost at $20 per hundred pounds in 1874, $10 in 1880 and dropping to $2 just before the turn of the century when technology and falling steel prices brought costs down. During the mid-1880s, said the Enterprise, ¾ of U.S. barbed wire companies formed a pool to keep prices up. That price-fixing raised charges 15% while claiming selling prices were ten cents per hundred lower than costs, however the companies had business and were making money rather than going into foreclosure.

According to the May 13, 1886 Advocate, Door County farmers had discovered the superiority of barbed wire fencing thus bringing new importance to the hardware trade, most notably to Tifft & Hay, the Ahnapee hardware store that launched a Sturgeon Bay branch. Until Tifft and Hay opened the new store, the few Sturgeon Bay merchants selling the wire charged 8 or 9 cents a pound. Tifft and Hay brought Ahnapee prices, charging two cents less, or the same price charged in their Ahnapee store. Then they lowered the price again.

When Hay ordered a half ton of wire, he felt it would last a year or, perhaps, two. By the time Hay got the invoice, he sold a few more tons. The Advocate said that the cheap prices encouraged the farmers to give away timber and buy wire.

The following year, Mr. Hay ordered more wire and needed two shipments. From February to the 1^st of May, he sold ten tons. The Advocate pointed to men throughout the county buying large quantities of the wire. Some bought as much as a ton each.

Barbed wire faced deceptive advertising in the late 1800s just as other products did during the shortages of the 2020-2022 Covid pandemic. In 1886, false advertising said prices had risen significantly, but as the Advocate pointed out, it was not the fact. Throughout the summer, Tifft & Hay advertized being the sole agents for the popular Kelly steele barbed wire and at 1885 prices.

What about Charles Tifft and John H. Hay who were partners, as well as brothers-in-law, in a hardware venture?

In 1880 the men, who had just become brothers-in-law, bought a red brick building on the northwest corner of 4^th and Steele, on Lot 6, Block 8, Eveland Plat, from George Roberts for $3,000, and then built a coal shed behind their building. By September 1881, they moved their immense stock of nails, iron, paints, oils, and shelf hardware into the section used by H.W. Bates as his drug store, and broke ground for two-story, 23’ x30’ addition for the storage of heavy hardware. Although the new building was frame, plans were for it to be brick veneered in 1882. The second story was eventually used for rental offices. Bates did not discontinue his business but moved it into the brick store owned by Stebbins and Decker on the north side of Steele between 2^nd and 3^rd Streets, now the west section of Clay-On-Steele.

Charles Tifft and John Hay quickly made inroads and an impact with the farming cmmunity. As early as February 1882, papers often mentioned them in Door County on hardware business or the numbers of Door County customers flocking to the Ahnapee store. Tifft and Hay said they were a headquarters for low cost barbed wire, and they were.

Business was good and in September 1889, Tifft & Hay moved into their newly completed building at the corner of Cedar and St. John Streets in Sturgeon Bay, now  the southwest corner of 3^rd and Kentucky. Business remained good in Ahnapee. Hay ran the Sturgeon Bay branch while Tifft managed Ahnapee’s. In 1891, Tifft and Hay’s Ahnapee branch was building cheese manufacturing systems, as was the city’s popular Leopold Meyer. That same year each company manufactured 6 or 7 outfits each, making for 12 or 14 cheese factorys’ equipment coming from Ahnapee alone. By the end of that year, the Ahnapee firm was the second city mercantile to be lit with electric lights. The company was on a roll.

Business continued, but things changed following a depressed economy when the February 8, 1894 Advocate pointed to Mr. Hay as unethical. As chairman of the fire commission, he directed a piping order to his firm, Tifft & Hay, without seeking other bids. The paper said ordinances forbade aldermen from an interest in what was furnished to the city, said Hay made 15 to 20% on the deal, and said it needed investigation. There was another issue because the company was not paid by those they carried on credit. On February 17, 1894, Door County Democrat published a letter in which Mr. Hay thanked the public for the business they brought. Hay wrote that the depression of the previous year caused business failures due to carrying so much customer credit. Hay said the company was going forward to serve customers on a different and solid basis, and would not offer credit beyond 60 days. As he pointed out, a business could not survive selling products in January and February and then waiting till fall for payment. Hay said he was correcting an incorrect system of doing business.

Just two months later, on April 19, Tifft and Hay dissolved their partnership as hardware merchants in both Ahnapee and Sturgeon Bay, Mr. Tifft assumed the assets, debts, and liabilities of the Ahnapee business while Mr. Hay assumed the same in Sturgeon Bay.

The Ahnapee building burned in 1896 and in 1900, Tifft sold the proberty to Mr. Charles. In that time, Tifft continued business, still selling farm imolements and Sherwin-Williams' paint. In April 1896 he was elected mayor of Ahnapee. He and his wife eventually went west where he died near Portland. 

John Hay died on October 25, 1898 while he was on business in Oshkosh. His obituary recounted his life saying, following his Civil War service, he joined his parents who had relocated to Manitowoc, where he found employment as a traveling man for farm machinery. Mr. Hay and his wife Susan moved to Ahnapee in 1879 where he joined his brother-in-law Charles B. Tifft in the hardware business. When the men opened the Sturgeon Bay branch in 1884, Hay moved there to manage it. The Advocate called him a man of tact and judgement who grew the business rapidly.

Barbed wire use in the two counties kept on, although sometimes brought sensational news. It was July 1907 when the Kewaunee Enterprise alerted readership that barbed wire fences served as a lightning rods and if livestock drifted toward such a fence during a storm, there were chances that the fence would be struck by lightning. Because animal bodies were such good conductors of electricity, results could be fatal. The paper went on to point out that the barbs worked like batteries to collect charges and went on to report animal losses, due to the wire, in other states. It was advised to run a wire perpendicular to the post and into the ground. Such a “lightening rod” was much cheaper than lightening running down the legs of cattle. Driving a staple over the barbed wire and the safety wire would save thousands in losses each year. The cost was insignificant compared with the value of a choice animal.

There were other losses from the barbed wire. In April 1914, three Forestville men were in a runaway accident when the horse was frightened and jumped into the ditch, tossing the buggy into a telephone pole and a barbed wire fence. The horse dragged the buggy and the men who were only able to free themselves when the buggy was completely smashed. Aside from the wire scratches, the men escaped from an accident that could have cost their lives.

During World War 1, British army scouts described the barbed wire being used by the Germans in “no man’s land.” It was reported that one night some scouts crawled to the barbed wire, about 10 yards in front of a German machine gun trench. There they tied empty jam tins to the barricade and tied small telephone wires to that before they crawled back to their own lines. When the British began pulling the wire, the tins began to clatter and the Germans started firing in the direction of the noise. The English saw it as a good joke while the Americans said, “It was good tonic for the Tommies.” Ther Germans used about $10,000 worth of ammunition and lost a night’s sleep over the noise made by about 5 shillings worth of jam containers.

Just as other metals, barbed wire was in short supply in World War ll so it was big news in June 1943 when about 20,000 tons of wire with extra long barbs made for military purposes became available. The use of military wire was allowed because of the shortage created by midwestern floods. The War Food Administration was going to release the wire maintaining fair and equitable tretment. There would be quotas according to the June 25 Enterprise. 

One hundred fifty years after its patent, barbed wire is still being used, however electric fences have replaced much of it. 

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald, Commercial History of Algoma, WI, Vol. 1, Door County Advocate, Door County Democrat, familysearch.org, Kewaunee Enterprise, Wikipedia.

Algoma, Wisconsin: The Ghosts of the Ahnapee River

 

What a sight Ahnapee/Algoma must have been in the days of the wind ships. What it must have been like to witness 12 or 15 -  or even more - schooners riding at anchor in the harbor is nearly impossible to imagine. Today we see scores of fishing boats, and perhaps a sailboat or two, while knowing the likes of the Wren, Industry, Shaw, S. Thal, Whirlwind, Evening Star, Glad Tidings, Sea Star and so many more will never be seen again.

The late 1860s was the heyday of Lake Michigan schooner traffic. As steamers and railroads replaced sailing vessels, they began to disappear. Some were scrapped. Some were burned to the waterline and sunk. Others just deteriorated and sank. That’s what happened to Lady Ellen and Spartan whose final resting places are between the present 2^nd and 4^th Street bridges in Algoma.

Lady Ellen’s history is storied in the annals of Algoma. The Spartan? Not so much. For several generations, the Ellen was remembered by Algoma youngsters such as Jag Haegele, who sat on its gunwales each winter while putting on their ice skates for some after school fun. Spartan came to life years later when Jim Kirsten was making preparations for his campground at the corner of 4^th and Navarino.

Spartan made a significant commercial impact on Ahnapee and beyond, and its resting place seems fitting. As early as 1854, Yates and Wild had a mercantile on Capt. K’s spot. Lots 10 and 11 of Block 3 in the Youngs and Steele Plat of the City of Algoma. There were other owners, the most impressive being Detjen Bros. Planning Mill and Dock which opened in 1870. Just over 20 years later, the company became known as Ahnapee Manufacturing Co. Years later the building served as a flour and feed store and then as an annex for Algoma Net Co. , just across the street to the south.

Lady Ellen lives on in the memories of the retired set who remember part of her peeking out of the Ahnapee River near the southwest side of the 2^nd Street Bridge. Built by respected Civil War hero Major William I. Henry, also Ahnapee’s most noted shipwright, the two-masted Lady Ellen was built of walnut that more than likely came from the area’s virgin timber. Henry built the schooner to join Capt. Bill Nelson’s Whiskey Pete in Capt. John McDonald’s stone trade, however she was used for lumbering operations, fishing and was also one of the Christmas tree ships. Lady Ellen was engaged in Lake Michigan traffic until 1899 when she was put out of business by the steamers. The hardworking Ellen was docked on the north side of the river, about 200 feet west of the 2nd Street Bridge where she eventually rotten and sank. (See below for a description of the photo.)

William I. Henry honed his shipbuilding craft  in his native Scotland. Born in 1820, Henry, the old Ahnapee seaman, was credited by the men of Ahnapee  who carefully observed his Civil War battlefield actions, advances and retreats as saving their lives, Henry served General Sherman who used the shipwright's skills on the famous March to the Sea.

Northeast corner of the point at which the Ahnapee River meets Lake Michigan, 1883

It wasn't only the Ellen. Henry designed the largest ship ever built in Ahnapee, the 105-foot, 173-ton Bessie Boalt. Henry’s shipyard was in a small bay, east of the bottom of Church St., behind what became the end of Michigan Street between Algoma Dowell Co. and Algoma Pallet Co., later Pier 42. Henry’s son William I. Henry, Jr. was another sailor, and he sailed the Ellen for over 25 years, from 1871-1899.

Lesser known is the schooner Spartan which sank in the river on the southeast side of the 4^th St. Bridge near the old Detjen dock. Forgotten until in 1985 when Jim Kersten began improving the lot on which Capt. K’s campground sits, the Spartan languished, deteriorated, and faded into history. But what a significant history the Spartan had.

The Spartan, said the Ahnapee Record in September 1885, was the oldest vessel plying the waters of Lake Michigan. Since construction in Montreal in 1838, the schooner had made all 5 Great Lakes and even sailed the Atlantic. Spartan was the largest schooner on the Great Lakes for many years and one of the best sailors afloat, but at the time of the article, the schooner was laid up in the Ahnapee River, its final resting place.

It was only two months earlier that the Spartan was undergoing repairs in Ahnapee when a kettle of pitch on the cabin stove caught fire. Fortunately, the damage was not severe, but when she was bound for Clay Banks two weeks later, exceptionally fierce winds forced her to seek refuge in Ahnapee’s harbor for two days. At the time, September 1885, the owners could not decide whether to strip the vessel or rebuild it. By the 1^st of October, the nearly 50-year-old, mighty schooner was stripped of everything of value and allowed to decay and sink in the Ahnapee River, or possibly serve as a relic to days gone by. It did. (See Detjen's dock description below.)

That decision was not the end of the Spartan.

During 1890 the Advocate carried an article saying the schooner was being broken up. Three years later the Record editorialized saying that the old Spartan was nearly rotted to the waters’ edge and that if it were not removed then, the work would be far more difficult. In April 1894, the paper again called for removal, this time saying that if much more was cut away from the old boat, it would not be self-supporting and that removal would be quite expensive. The paper felt that a powerful tug could lift what was left at substantial savings. The paper also encouraged the City of Ahnapee to have the job looked at by one of experience. What the paper didn’t say was that the city was doing too much diddling around and its failure to act was costing the taxpayers more as the days went on.

As it worked out, it was Jim Kersten who took care of removing the Spartan in 1986, about one hundred years after the mighty vessel was “laid up.”

It is not only the ghosts of the Lady Ellen and the Spartan that inhabit the Ahnapee River.

In 1899, Algoma Record commented on the dredging going on in preparation for the new 2^nd Street Bridge and mentioned the boats sunk in the river. By then, the lower half of the Spartan’s hull was submerged in mud, although broken pieces of its ribs were sticking up above the water. The hulk of the Lady Ellen was in the water, however all the rigging had been cut away. During blasting, rocks and debris was blown higher than the Ellen’s spars, which remained. The paper said since the useless Lady Ellen presented a “bad appearance,” the “whole outfit” should be taken out of the river. It didn’t happen.

At bit up-river beyond the Spartan was the schooner Tempest. A few rotten timber ends were visible at the turn of 1900. The Tempest also figured prominently during the schooner heydays. Town of Carlton’s James Flynn was one who sailed aboard the small schooner and served as her captain. As a footnote, history says in 1862 during the Civil War Flynn fired the first shot when the “formidable Tennessee” was coming down the river through the Union fleet. Porter was created an admiral following the action. Also sunk in the river was the schooner Belle. Who would have believed that after a month, the vessel was raised, taken out of the river and partially rebuilt? The Belle faded away in the local papers, so what happened to her is conjecture.

Beneath the fire engine platform at the foot of 3^rd Street in 1899 was the rudder of the old river tug Betsey/Betsy. Years earlier, in 1892, the paper said plans for the Betsy’s hull was being torn to pieces to be burned for fuelin March 1892 indicating that tug had been in a state of deterioration for at least 5 years. As early as summer 1887, Betsy’s boiler and engine were sold to C.W. Baldwin. The equipment had a history before being put on the tug. The machinery had belonged to the Evelands who arrived in (then) Wolf River in 1854. Interestingly, A.D. Eveland purchased Capt. Ross’s interest in the boat. The tug was built in the 1860s by Orrin Warner, a founder of what is now Algoma, and Charles Ross, an early resident. The Betsey and her companion tug, the Two Davids, towed scows and rafts up and down the Ahnapee River for years. Two Davids disappeared in the river marsh near the old Forestville sawmill.

An 1899 paper opined that the “relics of bygone navigation at ‘The Mouth’” brings a “tinge of sadness as one views the old fragments and thinks of the busy, happy times when the ties, posts, wood bark and provisions constituted the main articles of commerce at this port.”

                                                     .....................................................

Photo description: As the photo indicates, Lady Ellen is west of the present 2^nd Street Bridge and in some ice. Wenniger’s pump factory and saloon, last known as the Northside Tap, is the building with the high roofline right of center. The white building on the hill is Wenniger’s Wilhelmshoeh. By the time of this photo, Wilhelmshoeh was refurbished and sections torn off. It is now an apartment building.

The amounts of wood products to be shipped are evident in this Frank McDonald photo dating to before 1900. Writings prior to 1900 tell about wood products awaiting shipment as far as one could see all along the river’s edge from Ahnapee to Forestville. As the forest was cut, the river was left to bake in the hot sun and eventually seep into the surrounding area leaving the narrow, shallow Ahnapee River that exists today. During the pioneer days of the community, before the trees were all cut, it was possible to make Forestville by boat. In 1834 Joseph McCormick and a party of men sailed upriver to today’s Forestville. Trees made the vast difference.

Photo description: Detjen's Dock was on the river side of the Detjen furniture factory on the northeast corner of S. Water Street (now called Navarino) and what is now the foot of 4th Street. The map section was cut out of the 1873 Ahnaoee Birdseye Map. 

When the river was being dredged to permit the docks shown in this 1986 Harold Heidmann photo of Capt. K's Landing, pieces of the old schooner Spartan, which sunk about 1900, came to the surface. A section of a rib is shown in the H. Nell photo below.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Press, Algoma Record, and Algoma Record Herald; Commercial History of the Youngs and Steele Plat, and Other Significant Properties in the City of Algoma, Wisconsin,

Kewaunee County & Oysters: A 1900 Era Delicacy & the Libido

Oyster Boats' Dock, Apalachicola, Florida

 On the day before Valentine’s Day 2017, the Smithsonian Magazine carried an article entitled “Are Oysters an Aphrodisiac?” There was a subtitle: “Sure, if you think so.” The same article said oysters’ reputed properties dated to the Roman Empire. It also echoed the sentiments of several online articles in saying it was the lover Casanova in the 1700s who ate fifty oysters for daily breakfasts and, according to his memoirs, seduced one hundred women. Whether or not science agrees depends on the sites one reads.

 Kewaunee County’s first permanent settlers arrived in Wolf River – today Algoma – in early summer 1851. Its first newspaper, The Enterprize,* was published in Kewaunee in September 1859. Two months later, Editor Dexter Garland was invited to an oyster supper at the home of the newly married Seth and Mary Meisner Smith. Garland described the oyster supper as “sumptuous” and hoped the newlyweds’ life was as happy as the supper. Hmmmmm.

From then on, the Enterprize and the Ahnapee Record, founded in 1873, were full of oysters, advertising in most months of the years. Given the “notoriety” of oysters, one understands how they were popular at saloons such as Rod Berrio’s White Front Saloon on Ahnapee’s Steele Street. Rod said any kind of oysters were available at all times. Ladies could enjoy oysters at Berrio’s, however they were relegated to upstairs rooms. Decent women did not enter saloons although they could enjoy an alcoholic beverage in the separate ladies’ parlors. Reidy’s Billiard and Sample Rooms on Ellis Street in Kewaunee offered oysters, herring, and other such delicacies

But, with its connotations, one wonders about the popularity of church oyster suppers that were generally offered near Christmas. In mid-December 1874, Ahnapee’s Baptist Women’s Christian Association held a fair in the new church. Proceeds from the sale of oysters and other refreshments, and fancy articles were designated to the completion of the meeting house. In December 1880 it was advertised that. “A good dish of oysters can be had at the church fair tomorrow.”

It seems as if the county’s small and ethnically diverse population ate a lot of oysters.

Kewaunee County is situated on Lake Michigan, waters that had, and still have, the best fish around. Lake fish were fresh. Oysters came from the East. How were they kept fresh in the years before the railroad came to Kewaunee County in 1892?

Both fresh and canned oysters were for sale at restaurants and at places selling groceries. E. Young offered fresh oysters in his Steele Street restaurant in the Sachtleben building during the 1880s and brought in 1889 with an oyster supper featuring the best brand of oysters, brought in twice weekly. Young said he could supply customers with “anything in that line.” Anton Detloff, George W. Warner, and Algoma Restaurant were all advertising bulk oysters in any quantity. M. Erichsen offered fresh, select oysters for Christmas 1887 at his Kewaunee Steamboat House for only 25 cents a pint. Erichsen also sold by the quart or gallon.

Moses Teweles  advertised Booth’s oysters, sold fresh or in the can, at “rock bottom” prices. Teweles and Anton Leiberg advertised oysters for at least 20 years. Leiberg sold them in his 4^th Street store and, in 1900, said he would “thereafter” keep a full supply of the choicest fresh oysters. Pistor, on Ellis Street, was a Kewaunee merchant who sold canned oysters and mackerel in addition to other ocean products.

Fred Detloff announced in late October 1888 that he made arrangements for all kinds of fresh oysters and would sell at “the lowest figures.” Fred said folks could always find a good supply of cove oysters at his confectionery. While fresh oysters seem to be an odd item to stock at a confectionary, P.A. Nelson was advertising oysters, cigars and confections in his 1920 Christmas advertising. Kewaunee County residents were able to purchase oysters at a variety of businesses.

That oysters were especially popular before the advent of 1900 is not in doubt, but in some instances, oysters were described in humorous instances. When Enterprise Editor A.C. Voshardt put out a January 1889 edition, he described finishing the paper about midnight when several “traveling agents” (salesmen in 2021) and captains came in. The men arrived somewhat inebriated. and when they left, Voshardt had a bottle of Hostetter’s and a can of fresh oysters. It worked for him!

How much money John Kieweg made on a pearl was not known, but that pearl made for big business at Adolph Schuch’s Kewaunee meat market. It was November 28, 1924  when John B. Kieweg planned to use oysters with his Thanksgiving turkey and bought a pint at Schuch’s meat market. Kieweg’s purchase made news after he found a pearl the size of a pea. His plans were to have the pearl analyzed and made into a Christmas gift. Schuch wasn’t the only one selling oysters. Joesph Miller advertised the Badger Brand oysters which he sold in any quantity. Nepil and Panosh, and Edward Schneider’s Palace Meat Market were also advertising Christmas oysters, but if customers found pearls in their oysters, it didn’t seem to make news.

A December 2018 forbes.com carried an article about oysters and how the stew became a Christmas favorite. The article said that while New Englanders served oysters for Thanksgiving, those in the southeast served oyster stew for Christmas. Oyster stew was so common that it is thought that’s how oyster crackers got their name.

When the colonists arrived in the U.S., they found shell mounds that were, years later, said to date back thousands of years. Indigenous people of the Northwest also fed on oysters. Oyster bed fishing grounds were part of treaties.

The versatile oysters were eaten by all classes of people and in 1880, 700 million oysters were harvested along the east coast alone. Oysters do not last long, and most were harvested in the Chesapeake. By the 1840s canning methods brought oysters to cities along the coast. Railroads made it possible to ship oysters, packed in ice, to the Midwest. Prior to 1892, it would seem that the fresh oysters either came to Green Bay via train and then were brought to Kewaunee County by stagecoach or were brought on steamers from cities served by railroads. (Oyster boat on the Apalachicola River.)

Innovations in oyster harvesting by dragging nets across the ocean floor brought up massive quantities of oysters yielding up to 160 million pounds a year. Oysters were overfished and the methods used created substantial environmental damage. Oysters were so abundant that in 1909 sold for half as much as a pound of beef. Inexpensive as they were, oysters were used in other dishes to “stretch” them. Because of the cost, they were sold in saloons to enjoy with alcohol and were as popular as burgers and fries today. Algoma had numerous places serving oysters, while in larger cities there were oyster lunchrooms and oyster bars much the same a sushi bars today, and just as trendy.

Author David C. Murray wrote in 1861 https://www.onlinebooks.library that, “After having eaten oysters we feel joyous, light and agreeable – yes, one might say, fabulously well.” Whether or not Murray was thinking of love in 1861, there are many in 2021 who would say oysters enhance the libido. What made the things popular over 100 years ago? They weren’t just for Christmas.

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Note: Kewaunee’s newspaper was The Enterprize until 1865 when its spelling changed to Enterprise. The community now called Algoma was called Ahnepee from 1859 to 1873 when its spelling changed to Ahnapee.

When Editor Voshardt referred to Hostetter’s, it was bitters and considered a nostrum, or medicine. Developed for sale to Civil War soldiers, the product was said to protect soldiers from the impurities in water in southern swamps, rivers and bayous. The popular Hostetter’s was 47% alcohol, or 94 proof. The so-called tonic was sweetened with anise and other aromatics, but vegetable bitters gave the product a more medicinal flavor.

Cove oysters come from Prince Edward Island while Booth’s oysters came from Booth fisheries, a Chicago company that had cold storage buildings.

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise, https://www.forbest.com/sites/priyashuka/2018/12/23.

Photos were taken by the blogger.

Kewaunee County & the Pandemic: Masks Come "Full-Circle"

 

Whether or not to mask, who should be masking, and where and when masks should be worn are questions of millions of Americans in the Covid-19 era. It isn’t the first time questions were pondered. Americans wore masks during the Spanish Flu era, 1918-1920. One-hundred years later, masking is not without controversy and has come full circle.

Merriam-Webster online dictionary says, “full circle” is an adverb meaning “through a series of developments that lead back to the original source, position, or situation or to a complete reversal of the original position – usually used in the phrase ‘come full circle’.” Masks have come full circle.

Uncle Sam was providing advice on the epidemic and issuing health bulletins as early as October 1918. Surgeon General Ruppert Blue said that the infection was “probably” not Spanish in origin and that people needed to guard against “droplet infection.” He continued saying whatever the germ might be, it was spread through the air, and no doubt spread as dust coming from dried mucous, coughing and sneezing, or from the carless who spit on the floors and sidewalks. It was pointed out that while one might have a mild attack of disease, his germs could cause a severe attack in others.

Blue urged communities to prevent any public gatherings as a means of stopping the spread of disease, however it was each municipality that needed to act on its own. Blue called upon single women and the wives of soldiers to serve in Army camps and for others to serve on the home front. The Student Reserve Nurse Corp was born. Carlton’s Anna Mae Kocmich was among the 7 Kewaunee County women applying to the nursing program and was the first to be called. Anna Mae died at Fort Green Greenleaf at Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, within weeks of entering government service. Anna Mae is the lone Kewaunee County woman listed as giving her life for the war effort.

During 1918, a top military physician touted another of the advantages of masks in a contagious situation: the wearer has a tough time getting his hands to his mouth thus remembers safety and does not soil his hands. The doctor pointed out that until one can make masks of several layers of fine gauze, a handkerchief will do for safety. It was stressed one should take care not to turn the mask inside out or the blunder would be like the man who washed cherries in a glass of water, and then drank the water after eating the cherries.

Additionally pointed out in 1918 was that those with the contagion needed bed rest. If the caregiver flitted around too much, the patient was affected. Such unnecessary movements also increased the chance of picking up more germs and carrying the infection to others. If one took care of a patient, the caregiver was advised to wear a gown or apron to cover one's clothes, and immediately remove it for washing after leaving the patient.

When Algoma Record Herald published on December 18, 1920, it continued warning about hand sanitization, pointing that hands needed frequent washing, and immediately after handling the sick, the bedding and the handkerchiefs into which one sneezed, coughed or spits. Disposable tissues had yet to be invented and cloth handkerchiefs were used, as were sleeves. The handkerchiefs were to be burned or put into a covered container until they could be boiled for 15 minutes, washed, and dried to be used with safety. Were sleeves immediately sanitized?

Just as in 2019 - and it was repeatedly called to attention - few realized how many times a day one’s hands touched one’s face, nose, or mouth. Those habits were hard to break and frequent handwashing was called for.

It is estimated that during World War l, at least 50 million people died in the world-wide pandemic. Army medical staff worked to control the spread by requiring “victims” to wear masks. Military physicians felt that civilians who cared enough to practice disease prevention could profit by wearing masks “without being forced to do so at the point of a soldier’s bayonet.” Since contagious diseases are spread by sneezing, coughing and spitting, Army surgeons felt if they could catch the spit and destroy the germs before it reached the uninfected, they would be safe. Army hospital staff wore masks to prevent incurring infections themselves or carrying their own germs to patients. Surgeons felt since they could control spit in the operating room through the use of masks, mothers and other caregivers could do it too.

Mothers were advised to make their own masks, using 3 or 4 layers of fine gauze, cut into 7” squares. A piece of tape was to be sewn to each corner. The tape from upper corners were tied behind the head while the lower tapes were to be tied behind the neck. When the masks became moistened, they were to be replaced by dry masks.  Wet masks needed 15 minutes of boiling after which they could be handled, dried and worn again.. Masks of the 2020s are generally disposable, however many wear washable masks.

The website https://www.businessinsider.com says, “The face mask is a political symbol in America, and what it represents has changed drastically in the 100 years since the last major pandemic.” The same site says that masks during the Spanish flu pandemic were symbols of patriotism for many but not for all. Most objectors were men.

Public health officials called attention to personal hygiene as being patriotic while featuring men and boys in ads and cartoons. It was said men did not practice a high level of personal hygiene and men felt masks were too feminine. Where mask wearing was enforced, many refused to do so while citing civil liberties. Men were also shown in ads calling for an end to the spitting on the floors and streets, something quite common in 1918. Spitting was also thought to spread tuberculosis and other contagious diseases. Ad from www.businessinsider.com

As silly as it seems in 2021, the high numbers of men in the 1918 ads pointed toward a time in history in which it was considered indecent to show women in activities such as coughing or sneezing.

According to https://www.history.com/news, that although the methods of 1918 were followed again in 2020-21, there are differences. The electronic devices of today did not exist in 1918, when few even had telephones. Newspapers and posters spread the news. Streetcar signs in Philadelphia touted “Spit Spreads Death.” New York enforced no-spitting ordinances and encouraged coughing into handkerchiefs. The health department even warned against kissing except through a handkerchief. How much did that happen, and who enforced the kissing regulations? San Francisco Chronicle called those who did not wear masks “dangerous slackers.”

Abraham Lincoln said, “We cannot escape history.” That was in 1862. History repeats itself and often goes full circle.

Sources: Algoma Record Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise; https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.businessinsider.com; https://www.history.com/newsWikipedia

Kewaunee County Pandemics: 100 Years

 

For nearly two years, the U.S., and the world, have been focused on COVID-19. A little over one hundred years ago, the world and the U.S. were focused on the Spanish Flu, and, at the same time, diphtheria. In 2021, media reports COVID rates daily. One hundred years ago, the means of reporting was through the weekly newspaper. In November 1917, Algoma Record published disease information and requirements provided by Algoma Health Officer, Dr. W.W. Witcpalek. Witcpalek listed the eighteen diseases required to be reported. Diphtheria was third on the list, ranked after measles and smallpox. Diphtheria was one of the eight requiring quarantine. Witcpalek cited state statutes while also pointing out fines or imprisonment for non-compliance. 

Diphtheria has been around far longer that COVID, which is new, or the Spanish Flu of 100 years ago. Diphtheria was firs described by Hippocrates in the fifth century BC while it was Aetius who defined epidemics near the end of the 5th centery AD. Diphtheria was there for centuries, however it took a Frenchman to give it a name in 1826. It seems to have appeared before 1800 in the U.S. but never had a real name. Between 1921 and 1925, diphtheria was a four year epidemic in the U.S. A 1925 dogsled race - known as the Serum Run - was a 674-mile trip from Nenana to Nome, Alaska, for the purpose of getting diphtheria antitoxins to prevent an epidemic in Nome and the surrounding area. It was that "Race for Mercy" which inspired the Iditarod just short of 50 years later.

During the 1920s, the U.S. was seeing frm 100,000 to 200,000 cases yearly, resulting in 13,000 to 15,000 deaths. Wikipedia says diphtheria peaked in 1921 when the U.S. saw 206,000 cases. But what is it? Diphtheria is a disease caused by bacteria that makes toxins that cause swelling of the mucus membranes which can obstruct breathing and swallowing. It can enter the bloodstream to cause heart disease and even death.

It was immunizations and better living conditions that nearly eliminated the spread to two cases of diphtheria in the United States between 2014 and 2017, however one hundred years earlier, in August 1916, Wisconsin medical officers were astonished that among the 4,000 Wisconsin men who left Camp Douglas, there was not a single case of diphtheria, typhoid, smallpox, mumps, or any other disease.

It was an un understatement when the Record on January 3, 1878 reported, “Misfortune never comes single handed.” The paper reported that on the previous Thursday, Mr. and Mrs. C. Martin of Carlton lost three children from diphtheria. The children were buried in one grave, only to be followed by the deaths of two siblings. How does a family cope with the deaths of five children almost overnight? The Record further reported that 20 children in one school district died within two months.

During May 1888, Record carried a reprint from the New York Herald saying it was the opinion of many Brooklyn doctors that diphtheria abounded where railroad tracks were salted to melt ice and snow. The doctors cited 40% of the cases from January 1 and March 23 were reported by those who lived on railroad lines. Dr. Metcalf, chair of the Dept. of Contagious Diseases, said there were additional cases from homes on side streets about 50’ from the tracks. He did say further study was necessary.

Three cases of diphtheria were reported to the Ahnapee health department in mid-April 1891, however of the three, two died just before the paper was published. As there were no new cases, the health officer on April 16 decided schools could reopen the following Monday while churches and lodges would be allowed to resume services and meetings following the Saturday after that. The health officer hoped all persons would use due precaution to prevent further spread of diphtheria.

Pierce, Casco and Ahnapee towns were reporting new cases of diphtheria in late November 1894, prompting the Record to call for every possible precaution to be taken. Then the public school in the English Settlement was closed because of diphtheria prevalence. Lottie Teweles was the teacher. A few days earlier, it was reported that Joseph Fensel’s family, in Casco, lost their 8 year old daughter who was buried on November 6. On November 18, the Fensel’s 6 year old daughter died of the same disease.

Sheboygan Health Officials declared the epidemic was over a few days before Halloween 1896. Dr. Blocki, the health officer, was criticized for keeping diphtheria conditions from the public while the school superintendent was also criticized for keeping schools open.  Blocki felt that refusing to release information quieted speculation and mis-information that inflamed people. Both Blocki and the superintendent felt children were beter off in school because schools were more sanitary than homes. The papers didn’t appear to chronicle what was certainly outrage among Sheboygan mothers!

William Kuehlman was the only juror from the northern part of the county a year later, in late October 1897. Judge Gilson released Kuehlman from jury duty due to the proximity of diphtheria near his home. Had it not been for disease, the judge would not have released him. Forestville had diphtheria cases. Its schools were ordered closed but opened again. In the community recently renamed Algoma, there were five new cases but no deaths. Schools were open and precautions were taken. When the quarantines were lifted from August Klatt and Mel Perry’s residences, the paper said no new cases had been reported in the previous week. But then came December when School District # 4, on the north side, did not open because of diphtheria. However, it was expected that District #4 would open before Christmas in the old building near the south branch bridge.

Handshakes are few and far between in the COVID environment, and they were in 1897 when just before Christmas the paper reported that New York “men who know all about medical science are forbidding handshakes because fingernails are in the bacilli of diphtheria, smallpox, scarlet fever and a hundred other diseases.”

Just as in 2020-2021, when all around the world folks were looking for alternative treatments, in early 1898 it was Hood’s Sarsaparilla that was touted as American’s greatest medicine. A testimonial from Mrs. R.E. Anderson of Cumberland, Maine, said it cured diphtheria in her 7-year-old boy who was paralyzed and suffered terribly. The Andersons and their doctors had given up all hope before starting a 3-month regime of Hood’s which restored the boy’s health. A few months later, the Record admonished parents to take care not to mistake the symptoms of diphtheria for mumps until the disease was developed. Early symptoms of throat and neck swelling were peculiar to both and vigilance was paramount.

In early 1899 the paper announced, “Medicine is making such strides that the cure of today is supplanted by the cure of tomorrow. Loudest voices soon disappear and the best physicians are slow to accept new innovations.” The paper went on to say about the only way by which progress can be made is experiments with human life, which was most risky. How many times was the same thing heard one hundred years later.

One of the 1899 experiments was called the chlorine remedy, tried with great success on twenty-four people in Brooklyn’s Kingston Hospital. Of the twenty-four cases, there were twenty-four cures. According to the New York Times, the New York Board of Health did further testing, while, in the meantime, physicians were sending patients for treatment, which was the inhalation of chlorine. Although there were professional differences, people had little concern. The Baltimore American pointed out that if chlorine worked, there would be general rejoicing.

While chlorine inhalation was on the cusp in New York, Town of Lincoln residents were fightened by the outbreak of diphtheria. District 2 school was closed and people were kept under quarantine. There was one death, however many were said to be “very low.” Some were suggesting high diphtheria rates in the Lincoln resulted from a dry season. It was said that dug wells with little water were full of gasses and sediment, giving rise to the germination of diphtheria, typhoid, and scarlet fever. A few months later. Dr. Moraux was attending several cases in Montpelier.

Both the Record and the Enterprise kept readership informed on disease in the county, the country and even across the world when possible. An article datelined Berlin: May 1902 was something to take note of. Reports were that the use of Berin’s diphtheria serum produced Berlin’s lowest ever diphtheria death rate. Berlin saw 469 deaths in 1901 where such rates had ranged between 1,00 to 2,600 a year before the Berin’s serum treatment.

Then came 1913 when Chamberlain’s Cough Remedy was advertised as a quick way to cure cold. Colds had ramifications. The company claimed their cough remedy could always be depended on, was safe and was pleasant to take. Medical authorities pointed out that children could more easily develop diphtheria, whooping cough, scarlet fever and consumption, or contract other contagious diseases if they had colds. A good selling point.

1914 was a bad year. Anna Jindra was ready to return home from visiting her aunt when she received a phone call telling her to stay away. Her family was quarantined. Within a fewweeks, Nasewaupee’s John Buechner lost two daughters to diptheria and then he died, but of paralysis.

The most astounding news came a year later when the Record ran a reprint from a May Philadelphia Record. Its story of the presence of lingering germs after 50 years was big news. Both health authorities and an attending physician said diphtheria germs stayed in the walls of a Philadelphia home for a half century. How on earth was it possible? At that time the family who owned the home had several deaths. As it happened, the new owner, Raymond Miller, scraped away a heavy coat of whitewash before papering the walls. Miller’s whitewash refuse was thrown outside after which warm, damp weather was said to have revived the germs, “which had been imprisoned under the whitewash.” If there were other such reports, Algoma Record didn’t follow up.

The paper did, however, did discuss diphtheria “media” in August 1916 when the State Laboratory of Hygiene announced better methods for managing it. The new process meant the state could return reports from 18-24 hours earlier. Over hundreds of years, the known world looked for disease treatments. Some that worked were coincidental. A week before Christmas 1919, the Enterprise carried a Medical News article about treating the sick safely with plain remedies. The  Medical New article also ran an ad looking to hire “Smart Agents.” One wonders what their plain remedies were.

There were always ways to encourage the public to do something about disease and Friday May 2, 1923, was it. When the day was designated by Wisconsin's Governor McGovern as both Arbor Day and Fire Prevention Day, State Fire Marshall Purtell said fire prevention was also disease prevention as Arbor Day called attention to all the waste blown about since the previous fall which was an invitation for conflagrations and favorite disease-breading places. Purtell mentioned the heavy yearly disease toll and called for sanitary conditions. He went on to say family dogs and cats sunned themselves in the rags, straw, and leaves before taking their germs around the neighborhoods and into the homes.

Despite all the cures – charlatan and medical efforts – diphtheria remained. When the Record reported 151 cases in 1925, it recalled diphtheria sweeping through Kewaunee County 40 or more years earlier taking a toll on nearly every family, sometimes taking all the children in the family. New treatments were beginning to work wonders in halting the spread.

Almost 50 years before Philadelphia authorities touted chlorine treatments, the British Medical Journal, (January 8, 1859) called attention to Stephen S. Alford and “Chlorine in the Treatment of Diphtheria.”

Alford felt every medical man should record anything that works in diphtheria. He felt such remedies should remove the poisonous growth to prevent its reforming and thus destroy its poisonous character. Alford claimed if an application of silver nitrate did not destroy the growth, it had to be constantly reapplied. He was experimenting with chlorinated soda used every 10-15 minutes to wash away throat fungi and mass with constant gargling. He said the use of chlorine counteracts poisons to destroy the virus before it spread to other family members. Other doctors agreed with Alford’s assessment of efficacy.

The same issue of the publication carried another chlorine article, “Chlorine Inhalation in Diphtheria” by C.F. Hodson who claimed chlorine inhalation was successful in hopeless cases and was a useful treatment for severe forms of diphtheria.

Chlorine has a variety of uses from disinfecting water to being part of sewage and industrial waste sanitation. Chlorine is a fabric bleaching agent. Chlorine is often called bleach and was in many of the products merchants were unable to keep stocked in 2020 and 2021. We smell chlorine in swimming pools and on hospital linens, and hand sanitizer when we are out and about.

While the two pandemics are different, there are similarities. As Abraham Lincoln said on December 1, 1862, “We cannot escape history.”

Sources: Ahnapee Record, Algoma Record, Algoma Record Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise, Wikipedia.