Wednesday, December 29, 2010

CJ Tucker & Christmas Memories

I recently had a message from a reader asking about the store of C.J. Tucker. Whose name shows on a crock they own.

Charles J. Tucker was born in November 1862 to Samuel and Abigail Tucker. He grew up in Sparta Michigan. In 1891, at the age of 29 he married his wife Frances. A few years later he opened his store on South Bridge Street.

CJTucker

While most stores at the time specialized in one type of merchandise, CJ Tucker offered a wide variety. He had an early example of a Department Store. He offered furniture, carpets, rugs, linoleum, china, household items and dry goods.

In 1911 he built a new home for his wife and adopted daughter Alice at 328 E. Jefferson St. Just a couple years later he retired from the mercantile business and began selling insurance and real estate. Frances died in 1917 and Charles around the same time.

* * * *

I thought I would share one of my own Christmas memories. This involves my sister Pam and her life-long friend Charisse Pryor (now Mullins). Now Pam and Charisse were quite the pair and their youthful adventures are legendary, not only in our family but I dare say in our neighborhood and beyond. Even as a child I knew they were a pair to watch out for!

Now back in about 1972 I was a young student at Neff Elementary and they both were in High School. There was apparently at that time, a service that allowed you to submit a child’s name and sometime before Christmas, Santa himself would call on the phone and speak to the child and see what gifts they really wanted.

Well, one evening I was home with my sister and the phone rang. She answered it and then told me it was for me. This was suspicious to me right away, I was only a kid and no one ever called me except my parents or grandparents. Then when I wanted to know who it was, she wouldn’t tell me. Well this put me on my guard.

So reluctantly I took the phone and on the other end I heard a merry “HO-HO-HO Merry Christmas David. Have you been a good boy?” I remember I didn’t say anything at first. I was trying to figure out what was going on. Certainly Santa would never use anything as modern as a telephone.

I remember my sister saying, “its Santa, he wants to talk to you.” It then hit me what must be going on, so I said into the phone “Is this Charisse?, Charisse I know your voice- this is you isn’t it?” Of course on the other end the confused Santa was saying “No, No, this is Santa Claus..Its Santa”. Well I was having none of it, I said “No this is Charisse!” and gave the phone back to my sister, who was looking confused and disappointed at this point, and left the room in triumph. Pam and Charisse thought they could pull one over on me—I was too smart for that!

Of course looking back years later I realized Charisse had nothing to do with it, and my sister was just trying arrange a nice call for her little brother from Santa. And poor Santa didn’t know what was going on with this strange kid. I can look back now and laugh at myself, but at the time I was so sure I had put one over on the two of them.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Bear Hunting

Here is a tale if an early bear hunt in Oneida Township.

We had two kinds of bears in the woods of Oneida, the large, long-legged, brown-nosed species, and the short-legged black one. The bear, like some bipeds, is a great lover of pork; this seemed to be all of the flesh kind he cared about, and of this he was quite tenacious. My mode was to take them in traps,-that is, when I could, though I did take quite a number in that way. There was one of these fellows, however, that knew too much for me. Having killed a hog for my neighbor Lewis, in his absence, I was sent for with orders from Mrs. Lewis to go and capture him. So taking my young friend, Master George W. Nichols, with me as an assistant, I set the trap as usual. On the next morning we went for our bear. A light snow having fallen in the night, we encountered the well-known track on our way. Confident and elated with our expectations, our disappointment and chagrin were now the greater when we found the fellow had taken the trap off some twenty feet, and, as if to convince us of his superiority, turned it bottom side up, and left it there unsprung. Eating what he wanted of the bait, he had very graciously retired. We tried him again for three successive nights, but to no purpose. On the fifth night, having set two traps instead of one, we caught him good by the ball of one foot. Carrying the ponderous trap to a log some distance away, he then pounded it off, leaving within its jaws the sinews of his leg, some eight inches long, and then made his escape.
Unlike the wolf, when caught, the bear will fight to the very last breath. I have shot and trapped a large number of these animals, and have always found this to be an infallible trait. One morning, as I was proceeding in considerable haste to one of my bear-traps, I was accosted by two of my clergy neighbors as to the cause of my hurry. Answering that a bear was in my trap, they expressed a desire to go along and see the sport. After going about three miles we struck the trail. Letting my anxious dogs loose, I ran ahead of my reverend companions for the purpose of getting a shot. Giving the bear a shot in the best place for crippling him,-the region of the kidneys,-the fight began. The two elders coming up and seeing the power, endurance, and grit of the bear, even in his crippled condition, their desire seemed to evaporate, the dogs and myself having the honor of conducting the whole fight throughout.
George Jones, Philander Parmenter, William Henry, Amadon Aldrich, and others of the early settlers occasionally indulged in the luxury of a bear-hunt, and this was especially the case on one occasion, when the four men mentioned followed a bear-which had unluckily got into a wolf-trap and carried it off-nearly to the site of the present city of Lansing, and after an exciting fight with the two dogs which they had along, his bearship was finally killed by a lucky shot from Mr. Jones' rifle. The carcass-a large one-was cut up, and each carried a portion of it home, where they arrived about sunset.

Hunting Traditions

Hunting the wild game of Michigan has always been our tradition. Below is an account from one of the earliest settlers of Oneida Township.

“From the first there was a panther which gave the settlement a good deal of annoyance. He could give out any noise that might be imagined. His agility was most surprising. No squirrel could leap from one tree to another like this native puss. But whether he became tired of his Canadian associates, or whether he had a ' more eligible call,' no one could guess; at any rate he made a very sudden and unexpected exit, to the inexpressible joy of us all.
Wolves were prevalent from the very beginning. Approaching the very thresholds of our frail shanties, they would almost nightly give us a full specimen of their peculiar thunder. To this gratuitous compliment they would often add that of taking a few sheep from the very thresholds of our homes. I have often been in the woods alone, surrounded by numbers of these greedy monsters, when the whole forest was made to ring with their hideous howling voices. Boldness is their characteristic when at large, but when captured, like all thieving rogues, they are both mute and indisposed to self defense.
In the years 1842, '43, and '44 deer were about as plenty as sheep are now. I have killed many of these peculiar denizens, by nature wild as the wildest though they are in their native haunts. Yet, unlike the sneaking wolf, when caught alive will fight to the bitter end. Of this trait I had some experimental proofs, particularly with an old veteran buck. Having shot him twice without killing him, he proposed to return the compliment. As soon as I found him making for me in right earnest, I managed to keep at the opposite side of a small tree. Taking my partner, not over politely, by the horns, with my arms astride the tree, I held on for dear life, knowing well my fate if I should lose my position. In this attitude the strife commenced. The aim of my heroic companion was to stab me with his huge pointed horns, my object for the most part being to prevent him. When an opportunity occurred for putting my knife into him, forgetting his head armor, he would then give me the benefit of his heels. At times he would bring me to consider myself only second best. Through loss of blood, rather than courage, he at length yielded the palm of victory, when I had the honor, I cannot say satisfaction, of taking off his head. When dressed the carcass reached the weight of two hundred and ten pounds, being the largest deer I ever killed.”

Kent Family

So far I have only briefly mentioned one of the more prominent families of early Grand Ledge. Tales of the Kent Family would fill many columns, but for now I will give a brief overview.

The Kents were among the first settlers of Oneida township. Peter M. Kent settled here in 1836. He purchased 560 acres at the corner of Strange and Oneida Roads. The following year his father Isaac Kind and his siblings arrived from New York to join him. Isaac had owned a farm of eighty acres in New York, and the proceeds from the sale of this property were used to purchase the land in Oneida township.

Isaac Kind was the father of five children: Peggy, who married Peter Kiser: Lydia, who married a man named Houser; Lucy, who married Michael Krupp; Peter M. Kent, who married Eliza Hixson; and Francis (Frank) M. Kent, who married Harriet Lovell.

Peter was a millwright and carpenter by trade. He built the mill in Portland in 1836 where a street is named in his honor. In 1852, Peter with his brother Francis, along with Abram Hixson bought Grand Ledge flour and saw mills downtown. Peter however remained working on his farm. It was not until 1861 when Peter retired from farm life. He came to town and built his fine retirement home in Grand Ledge. The house still stands at 127 West Jefferson.

Peter and his wife Eliza had three children, Edwin, Eliza and Charles Albert. Edwin would inherit the home on the corner, while is brother Charles built the large brick home next door at 119 West Jefferson.

Frank Kent was a miller by trade and ran the mills downtown. He had a farm of 160 acres that he began to clear, but eventually sold and used the proceeds to purchase his interest in the mills in 1852. In 1855 he bought an 80 acre farm on the Jenne Road. It was entirely unimproved and he reclaimed about thirty acres of this farm before turning over the propterty over to his son Velorus to finish the job.

During the 1860s Frank Kent lived at the corner of Jackson and Lincoln streets in a house that still stands at 427 Jackson. He then built a new brick home on West Jefferson at Harrison. This was right across the street from his brother Peter, where the city parking lot is today.

Frank and Harriet had seven children. Velorus, Metta, Flora, Lellan, Darwin and twins Myra and Mryta. Four of the children died before reaching the age of five. Metta and Darwin would both move to Leslie, MI. Velorus remained in Grand Ledge and became famous for his tales of Grand Ledge history which ran in the Independent in the 1920s.

More Old Tales

Here are some more tales from the childhood of Velorus Kent.

First Story: “The first time Forepaugh’s Show clime to Lansing I look a girl just past 13 to the show. l was just past 14. Wasn’t that starting early? I should advise mothers not to let them go quite so young . But then I was the white cow's calf you know. I once took a girl to a Sunday school picnic and there came on a big rain and we couldn't get home for two days: and no telephone.”

Second Story: “Suppose you were going along Bridge street one awful rainy day with her, carrying an umbrella over her head as I was, and you came to a place where the roots of a tree had lifted the side walk so that it sloped toward the inside as it did , and some galoot had pasted a bill for a political meeting on this place as he had , and the rain had wet the paste until it was slippery as glass as It had , and stepped on it as I did , and your feet went from under you as mine did and caught hers as they did and you let loose of the umbrella as I did and she stood on her head in the umbrella as she did? Sir, did 'that elevate your dignity?”

* * * * *

Before the railroad came. Simeon Babcock came at about the middle 1860s. He kept a team and hauled goods to and from Lansing. Everybody called him Uncle Sam and he was a joker. One awfully rainy day he went to Lansing with a load of goods; he wore a light blue soldier’s overcoat which had a large cape. Uncle Sam wore his hair long, and after being so long in the rain he said he supposed that from his looks the young fellow might have been somewhat justified in his remark.

Sam had put his horses in the barn at the hotel, and went into the bar room. There were several young fellows at the bar when he entered: one young chap spoke up and said: "And Satan came also."

This created a great laugh, the youngster supposing, of course, his joke would get the drinks for the bunch, but Uncle Sam was loaded. He said: "My young friend, if you will look a little further along in that book you will find where it says "And the ass opened his mouth and spake". This brought the house down and the youngster had to set up the drinks.

*The Great Forepaugh Show of 1867 was a traveling circus. A “white cow’s calf” means something very special and prized.

Some old Tall Tales

Back in the early days of Grand Ledge, long before movies, television, radio or other entertainments, the telling of a good tale, true or not, was considered a talent. In 1922 V. Kent told of a storey from his youth to illustrate this point:

“It was considered to be quite a feat to be a good story teller. William Russell, everybody called him "Bill," was thought to be about the limit; he was the man who built the first hotel in town on E. River Street known as the Orleans house.”

One Story: One winter while Bill lived in his hotel, he was chopping wood on a farm on the northside of the river. So often had he crossed the frozen river to go to the farm, he said he had a path over the mill pond on the ice and had tramped that path so hard that when the ice went out the path remained and he went back and forth over the flowing river on that path for two weeks more!

Another one: He said that during that winter when going to work one morning he came to the bend in the river, and noticing some peculiar tracks in the snow he went back home and got his rifle and followed those tracks until nearly nightfall. When above Wacousta coming near to the Lookingglass river the tracks seemed to go up a tree; he looked and the hugest drove of Cat fish he had ever seen had gone up to roost in the tree!

“Bill later lived on the farm now owned by M.D. Sutherland, Billy Hixon, later father of Warren Hixon of Danby township and of Mrs. Ben Smith, then but a lad living at home accross the road with his parents, had a great reputation as a story te1ler. The men of the community got into a discussion; some thought Billy could beat Bill. They decided to have them pitted in a contest to see who could tell the best tale, agreeing that Billy being the younger should tell the last story,

Bill's story: "At one time I decided to make the largest fiddle in the world. I went into the woods and found a walnut tree eight feet In diameter, cut it down, and cut off a log 40 feet long from which I carved my fiddle I then found a hickory tree two feet in diameter and 60-feet long from which to make the bow, It look the whole length of a cat gut to make one string for the fiddle. I had to splice the hairs of 40 horse tails to string up the bow.

Billy's story: I at one time bought a yoke of oxen that weighed two tons each, I made a yoke out of a rock elm tree that was three feet in diameter, the yoke was eight feet long. I got a blacksmith to make a chain out of inch-round iron 14 feet long. I went into the woods and cut a white oak tree eight feet through from the but out of which I cut two cart wheels 10 inches thick. I made and axle from 12 feet more of this tree to fit the wheels and put them together thus completing my cart ready for business," He was asked what he intended to do with that outfit. He said. "I got it to haul Bill’s fiddle on." Young Billy got the prize!!

Anthony Schumaker

Anthony Schumaker was a druggist and community leader in early Grand Ledge. We learn more about him in these excerpts from a 1906 biography:

“HON. ANTHONY B. SCHUMAKER, one of the leading business men of the city of Grand Ledge, and ex-member of the Michigan state senate, is a native of Prussia, where he was born June 1, 1848. His father was a lieutenant in the artillery division of the Prussian army, but resigned his commission and learned the trade of ship carpenter. In 1853 he came to America, leaving his family in Prussia.

Anthony was about six years of age when he came with his mother to join his father in the United States. He attended the schools in Branch county and thereafter he worked for his board for three years while attending the high school in Coldwater. He then secured a clerical position in the drug and grocery store of E. R. Clarke & Company of Coldwater.

In 1872 he took up his residence in Grand Ledge, buying a stock of drugs and groceries, in a wooden building on South Bridge street. He took possession on the 24th of October, there maintaining his headquarters until 1875, when he sold a farm which he had previously purchased, near Coldwater, and erected the substantial brick store which he has since occupied, at 222 South Bridge street. Mr. Schumaker has built up a very large and prosperous business, carrying full and complete lines of drugs and groceries and having a representative patronage.

In 1889 was effected the organization of the Grand Ledge Sewer Pipe Company, of which Mr. Schumaker was made vice-president, and in the following year he was elected president. He is first vice-president of the Grand Ledge State Bank, and is the owner of a finely improved farm of one hundred acres, in Oneida township. It is his intention to devote a considerable portion of this land to the raising of peppermint, an important industry in a number of the counties of southern Michigan at the present time.

Mr. Schumaker is a man of progressive ideas and much initiative power; he has taken a public-spirited concern in all that touches the general welfare of his home city, county and state. He served one term as treasurer of Grand Ledge and eight years as a member of the board of aldermen. In 1900 he was elected to represent the fifteenth senatorial district in the state senate, rolling up at the polls a flattering majority of eleven thousand votes. He has passed the degrees of the blue lodge, chapter and council in the Masonic fraternity, and is also identified with the Knights of Pythias.

September 21, 1876, was solemnized the marriage of Mr. Schumaker to Miss Elizabeth A. Raleigh, who was a lineal descendant of Sir Walter Raleigh. Mrs. Schumaker’s death occurred on March 5, 1888. At their home at 226 West Jefferson, they raised two children: Charles, who was drowned in the Grand river, July 8, 1898, at the age of nineteen years; he was a student in high school when he met his untimely death. He was a particularly bright youth, and gave promise of maturing into a useful member of the community; and Bertha, who remains with her father, is a graduate of St. Mary's College, at Monroe, Michigan, and is an accomplished musician.”

Greenwood School has long tradition

Due to budget cuts, school reorganization will take effect this fall. It seemed academic to me, until I heard that my young cousin, Janae Imell, will not be returning to Greenwood. The idea of Greenwood closing and what they meant in the long view of history finally sunk in to me.

Can you imagine a dark, dense forest with a river cutting its way through? Smoke is rising from a handful of clearings where brave settlers are literally carving out a settlement. In the spring of 1851 some of these settlers were hard at work in one of the few clearings on the northside, building a small shack- not a home for themselves, but a home for education. The Red School was completed in May 1851 and had one room with six benches. There were nine children in the first class, taught by Mary Ann Sanders.

This was two years before any type of bridge spanned The Grand, so children had to take boats across to school, cross walking on the dam or on the frozen river in winter. Once they got to the north bank, only a winding wooded footpath lead up to the school grounds.

As the town grew, so did the number of children. In 1862 a larger building, the Stone School, was built next to the Red School. This boasted two classrooms and together the Schools served over 200 pupils.

schred

This site on Mill Street (as it was then called) was the scholastic heart of Grand Ledge for nearly twenty years. All students attended school here until 1870 when the southside got its own small building, The White School, near where Sawdon is today.

In the 1880s big plans were made to modernize the school. Local builder George Brown was hired to design and build a new Northside School to replace the old pioneer school houses. Brown built a lovely two-storey brick Romanesque style building that opened in 1887. This housed all the northside pupils. Twelveth grade graduations were held here until the last class graduated in 1903. After that time, both sides of the river re-merged into one school district and the high school was moved to the Southside.

schgreenwood

In the 1920s Northside School became Greenwood School and over time additions were made to enlarge the building. In 1950 the present school was built right in front of the old building. Both schools were used until 1959 when the old building was torn down and new additions were made to the new school.

This site on the Northside has been the home to our students for 159 years. I sincerely hope a new educational use can be found for Greenwood. We all understand budget cuts, but surely tradition and history must count for something too!

Front Porch Living

One thing I love about Grand Ledge is the simple pleasure of sitting on the front porch. Nowadays people gather in their private back yard or stay in the house, but nothing can compare with watching your neighborhood from a comfortable front porch.

My favorite time is around dawn when you can see the town around you slowly come to life. I was recently sitting on my sister’s porch as the sun rose. Everything was so quiet and peaceful. Then you begin to hear a few cars and Jefferson Street slowly gets busier and busier. I often see rabbits scamper around the neighbor’s bushes and I love seeing and hearing all the birds in the area. Squirrels don’t seem to be as common as they once were; they were also fun to watch.

It got me thinking of how all our neighbors used to sit on their porches too. Across the street at 320 Jackson, Art and Olivia Herweyer used to sit out every night, year after year. Next to them at 312 Jackson, Ron and Betty Froehlich and their children always made use of their porch and front steps. Back then it was shaded by a huge old maple tree. Down on the corner, at 327 Jackson The Phillips’ and later the Coles’ used their porch often. Across the street at 328 Jackson Bertha Schilz and her daughter Maude Clark sat in the shade of their secluded porch. Maude told me once that when she was a girl, they used to hang canvas shades between the porch columns to keep the sun out.

Porches just used to be more important than they are today. Back before air conditioning, you went to the porch to catch the cool breezes. Porches were social places too, a place for friends and neighbors to gather. In my family we still use the front porch in this way. A couple years ago when my parents were visiting, many nights we had a porch full of family, neighbors and friends who happened to drive by and decided to stop for a while. Porches are like that, they welcome everyone.

I always feel sad for homes without a nice porch. Traditional porches often had battle-ship grey floors and robin’s-egg blue ceilings. A century ago there was a trend for wide generous wrap-around porches. Several prominent homes had these porches added at the time. Many still exists today.

Some homes also had Sleeping Porches. Our home on Jackson Street originally had one of these. They are second story screened-in porches which held a bed or couch. Here people could sleep in the cool summer breezes.

Raspberry Memories

With summer here it puts me in mind of my favorite fruit, raspberries. When I was young, raspberries were a big part of my grandparents’ farm in early summer.

It all started in the 1950s I believe when a neighbor, Mrs. Mary Boyer at 1099 West Main, gave my grandma, Lorna Haueter, some of the old raspberry bushes that were growing in her yard. These were then planted in a patch near the large vegetable garden. The patch expanded over the years, until it must have been over 50 feet long and 5 feet wide. As a child it seemed to me it went on forever.

Berry picking was a family affair. My grandparents and Aunt Esther did most of the work, joined by children, grandchildren and even nieces at times. Over the years special Berry Buckets were set aside for this purpose. These consisted of any old pail or bucket that could hold a berry box. These Buckets were then tied around your waist with rope, so you could pick with both hands.

My method of picking berries, one-for-the-bucket, one-for-me, was not always well received! As children we tended to pick the easy berries, we couldn’t, or wouldn’t reach deep into the prickly patch, so someone always had to follow up behind us to pick what we missed. My cousins, who lived just down the road, helped out far more than I ever did and were thus better at it.

Once your box was full, you would remove it from the bucket at your waist and put in on the Carrier. These were made, I assume made by my grandfather, to carry many boxes of berries at once. They were square wooden trays with wooden A-frame on each side and a wooden dowel in between for the handle. They held 16 quarts at a time. Many times I have seen two or three of these trays full of berries after one picking.

Once the berries were picked, they were taken up to the farmhouse for Sorting. I remember this being done normally outside by the driveway, under the shade of white birch tree my grandma loved so much. Here at a picnic table, each quart would be sorted.

Every berry was examined by hand, checking for bugs inside and blemishes outside. The perfect berries were set aside to be sold. The slightly broken berries would be eaten by the family, and then the really broken ones were left for cooking.

Selling for $1 a quart, these very high quality berries sold out every year. My grandma kept a log book with her customers who had standing orders, year after year. Her tally of sold quarts usually ran into hundreds of quarts each year.

My aunt still tends a few of the original bushes, and there is nothing I prize more than getting to taste these incredible berries. I may be bias, but they taste better than any other raspberry I have had. Maybe it is the variety of berry, maybe it is the soil, or maybe it is the memories, but to me it is like enjoying family heritage with each berry.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Samuel Preston

The second settler in Oneida Township was Samuel Preston. In 1835 he located in Lenawee County. In the fall of 1836 he paid Stephen Perkins twelve dollars to locate and purchase 160 acres of land for him in the Grand River Valley. Early in January 1837, Samuel left to visit his new purchase. Once reaching Chester Township, he stopped overnight with Robert Wheaton. At that time only nine families had settled on the route between Jackson and Mr. Wheaton, a distance of forty-five miles. The next day the two men went on to Preston’s land, which was covered with a thick growth of "gigantic trees."

The next day Samuel Preston returned to Lenawee County. Shortly thereafter on February 2nd, he set out with his family and two ox-teams, including all his household effects, for their future home in Oneida. They followed paths previous settlers had cut through the forests. After three days they arrived in Chester Township at Asa Fuller's near Mr. Wheaton's. Aided by the two men, Preston began cutting a new roadway for his oxen through the wilderness to reach his new land. Mr. Preston would later write:
"Night coming on we clustered ourselves into a cave dug in the snow, after
giving our ox-team a supper of tree-tops. Here, in the depths of a snow-bank,
surrounded by almost interminable forest, we cooked, ate, and finally retired to
our beds. About ten o'clock of the second day from Mr. Fuller's we reached the site we were in quest of, and, after clearing away the deep snow, some logs, and underbrush, commenced the work of building a log cabin”
Cabin building was a new experience for Preston, but with the help of his new neighbors they built a fourteen-by-eighteen foot cabin; only the second one constructed in Oneida. Preston writes:

“After this feat, of course, we had the honor of its first occupation over-night. Some time during this eventful night it commenced snowing, and before two o'clock the following day we had an addition of another foot of snow. Judging it to be a matter of prudence to seek some safer asylum, and depositing our implements in the newly-made cabin, we commenced our retreat. Mr. Fuller's home was a full seven miles distant, and it was still snowing. When within about two miles of his place the snow rose so high over our floundering sled that we were compelled to abandon it altogether, and trust to our weary legs for the remainder of the way, arriving about nightfall at the house of my kind friend, Mr. Fuller”
As of yet the cabin was still in need of floors, doors, windows and a chimney. But once, after several days, the snow had settled, Fuller and Wheaton assisted Preston in moving his family into the unfinished shelter. As Preston wrote: “In this unfinished condition we all went into it-self, wife, and a brace of little ones-on the 4th day of March, 1837”

Mudges Follies

It may be hard to believe, but this year will mark 30 years of Mudge’s Follies! I can well remember back in 1981 when my dad and I went to the second year’s performance down on the Island. The stage was built to resemble a steamboat, which was christened the “S.S. Neversails”. It is always fun seeing people you know performing on stage.

Mudge’s Follies has its roots back in 1978 when Shirley Bouck organized a vaudeville revue at the Ledges Playhouse for Michigan Week. This was such a hit that another show was put on for Michigan Week 1979.

These successes sparked an idea, so Shirley Bouck, Jerry Thompson and Libby Brandon began thinking how they could expand the concept. They decided Grand Ledge would benefit from a Fourth of July celebration with a musical revue as its centerpiece. Since the First weekend in July is already busy, they pushed the festival back to the last weekend in June.

I believe Libby Brandon came up with the name Mudge’s Follies. It is a cleaver name that plays off the round pagoda that J.S. Mudge built down on the Island in about 1888. The building was called Mudge’s Folly since it never served its original purpose. Of course Follies are musical shows made so famous by the Ziegfeld Follies. The Chamber of Commerce joined the effort to sponsor the newly created Yankee Doodle Days and in 1980 the fun began.

For many years Mudge’s Follies performed on a temporary stage that was built each year down on the Island. In case of really bad weather, the high school served as a backup.

About 10 years ago The Follies could not use the Island while it was under renovation. Since the high school had recently built its new auditorium, they temporarily moved the show there. However they soon found that the auditorium so well equipped, designed for performances, and the audiences enjoyed it so much more, they moved permanently to the building.

Mudge’s Follies has songs, dancing, and comedy performed in 20 or more skits, finally cumulating in a grand patriotic show stopper. After 30 years, this year’s show is sure to be something to see!

Looking for Information

Now for something different. I am looking for information and wonder if any of our readers can give me some answers. I want to know about Jacob Hoerner or Hoerner Chair Company. I think Jacob may have been a brother to Mrs Tillie Hooker of Grand Ledge, but I am not sure. I also would like to know who built the homes on Willard Court off of West Jefferson. They were built in the early 1930s.

If anyone has information for me, I would love to hear it. Please email me at howder@aol.com.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Grain Elevators part 2

Smith and Burtch eventually became friends as Smth’s health began to fail. In the 1890s Burtch even sold his elevator to Edwin Astley and took over operation of the Oat Elevator for Smith. About 1900 the Oat Elvevator caught fire in a blaze that was thought to have been ignited by the sparks from a passing train. The wooden building burned rapidly and even though the fire department responded promptly, low water pressure made it impossible to get water to the roof. The elevator was destroyed and was not rebuilt.

When Edwin Astley purchased the Burtch Elevator he built a second Bean Elevator adjacent to it. This was smaller with a capacity of only 5,000 bushels. About 1905 these elevators were sold to W.L. Ireland. Smith’s Wheat Elevator was sold as his health failed in the 1890s to John Walsh. Walsh would expand the evlevator to 16,000 bushels. In 1901 two brothers from Eagle Township purchased the elevator from Walsh and the well remembered firm of Doty & Doty was formed. The Dotys expanded the capacity of the elevator and began dealing in fuel products like wood and coals.

dotyelevator

It is said there was a friendly competition between the two elevator companies. Farmers would bring their wagons full of grain to the corner of Clinton and Union Streets and then the Dotys and W.L Ireland would come out and bid for the wagonload. Whoever offered the best price would get the grain. This competition ended in 1921 when the two merged to form the Grand Ledge Produce Company.

Up until around 1905, all of these grain elevators relied on horse power-- from real horses. They each had one-storey wings in the back where the horses were put to work. Two to four horses we be harnessed to a wheel. As the horses walked around in a circle, the wheel would turn large gears that would pull ropes and belts to power the elevator’s machinery. Horses were eventually replaced with steam or gasoline engines.

Grain Elevators part 1

For over a century, Grand Ledge was the agricultural hub for area farmers. After the arrival of the railroad in 1869, grain from area fields was brought here and shipped to far away markets.

George Smith seems to have started it all. Smith was born in 1834 in New York and came to Michigan in the early 1860s. The Smith family lived at 124 McMillan, one of the few homes on the Street at the time. He was an enterprising young farmer who decided to get into the grain business.

Between 1870 and 1873 Smith built two grain elevators. His Wheat Elevator, still standing today, was built on Clinton Street next to the rail lines. This originally had a capacity of 11,000 bushels. He also built an Oat Elevator across the road on the other side of the tracks. This was smaller with a capacity of 7,000 bushels.

In about 1885 Smith got competition from John M. Burtch. He built the Farmers Pride Elevator on Union Street a little way down from the corner of Clinton Street. This had a capacity of 12,000 bushels. John Burtch was a well known character and had the nickname “Skunk Skin John” since he also dealt in furs and pelts. He lived at this time in the brick home at 114 E. Front, which was just above the old flour mill.

In 1922 Valorus Kent wrote about the pair: “Mr Smith and John Burtch were always in strong competition in the grain line and became so antagonistic that several times they came to blows. Mr smith finally became so disgusted with John that when he would meet him he wouldn’t speak to him, but just lift his coat tails and pat his pants.”

One day when V. Kent was taking a load of grain down Bridge Street, Burtch came running along and jumped on the wagon. “John says: ‘Lo, have you heard Skunkie’s latest?’ Now John, with the rest of his accomplishments was quite a poet. He says: ‘There is Skunk Skin John lives on the hill. His hole is just over the mill. There’s old Hog Eye Smith lives over back. For 10 long years he has been on Skunkie’s track. But now he’s getting old and lame and lifts his coat tail to pat his brains’ “

The homes of Edmund Lampson

Edmund Lampson, our First Permanent Settler, was famous for having three homes over the years.

In the summer of 1847 Edmund Lampson arrived here with his family. As far as the eye could see was dense virgin timber. It is said that the trees grew so close together, that the fist branches could be sixty feet from the ground or more. Out of this dark forest, Edmund built his first home, a log cabin.

Long remembered in local tales, the cabin was called “the Siamese Twins” because it looked like two cabins joined together along their length. This First Lampson home was built in a little clearing located at what is today the corner of Pleasant and Maple Streets. On the lot occupied by 428 Pleasant today, the Lampson House, facing Maple Street, stood right up against the corner curb. I can image a cabin in the woods; gradually as children and pets ran to and fro, paths begin to develop alongside its walls, just feet from the building. In later years these paths would become streets. It can truly be said that Pleasant and Maple was the first intersection in Grand Ledge.

In the mid-1860s Lampson, now a widower, married for a second time. Soon thereafter he built his Second Home. This larger two-story house was located at 406 West Jefferson. This home would later be occupied by his daughter, Mary and her husband Ephraim Wallace and family. Around 1910 they added stucco to the house. In about 1922 the home was torn down and the current house was built for Jonas Sawdon, our beloved long-time school superintendant.

Edmund Lampson, like many of his fellow pioneers, continued to prosper in farming, real estate and business enterprises. He built a large steam-power saw mill overlooking the river in the 300 block of West Jefferson, just east of his home.

By the mid-1870s Edmund Lampson was in his 70s and enjoying the fruits of his long labors. He had become prosperous and was esteemed by his neighbors. He had served as the first President of the Village and as Justice of the Peace. During this time, he moved into his Third House he had built directly across the street. This home was located in a picturesque grove at the corner of Spring and West Jefferson. It was constructed just west of a natural spring-fed pond. It was this pond that gave Spring Street its name. The home even featured a walkout basement leading down to the water’s edge. At some later time, the pond was filled in and a more extensive yard created.

This grand gothic-style house at 405 West Jefferson was one of the largest homes in town when it was new. It occupied the same block as his original log cabin. In fact at the time his old log cabin was still in use. One can only imagine the sense of pride of being able to look out from your fine new home at the humble log cabin that had started it all 30 years before. Edmund lived there until his death in 1889.

Mineral Wells

From 1860 to 1890, Grand Ledge was known for its Bathing Houses. Mineral water was very popular at the time and was felt to be a curative for all manner of illness. Much like we bath in Epsom Salt today, Mineral Baths were used to ease joint pain, muscle strain and skin rashes. Grand Ledge, Eaton Rapids and other Michigan cities, offered baths for 50 cents each.

An 1880 account tells us: “During the excitement consequent upon the discovery of petroleum in Pennsylvania, when it was supposed probable that the wealth-producing article could be found anywhere if bored for, the wave rolled over the people of Grand Ledge, and a company was formed to sink a well at this place. The work was performed, but nothing but water of a curious taste rewarded their efforts, although it flowed in as great quantities as they could wish the oil to have done.

Finally, it was discovered that the water possessed medicinal properties, and a large bathing-house was built and Dr. A. R. Ball, now of Corunna, Shiawassee Co., a homoeopathic physician, had charge of it. This well, which is still flowing, is located near the eastern limits of the corporation, on the south side of the river. Three other wells have since been sunk, nearer the business portion of the village. One of these, on an island a short distance below the bridge, is 156 feet deep, and another, at the Mineral House, on the north side of the river, has a depth of 196 feet. The taste of the water from the island well indicates that it is principally charged with iron and sulphur; an analysis has not yet been made.”

It seems that five wells were drilled in all. The first was near the corner of E. River and Franklin Streets. It was near this that the first bathing house was established. By 1872, this enterprise was owned by George Cheney, who also ran a dairy farm and cheese factory in the area of what is today Belknap Street.

Later wells were drilled downtown. One well near the corner of S. Bridge and E. River supported a bath house that was located near where the Barn Tavern is today. C.W. Ingalls of Ionia was its proprietor. Another well could be found near the corner of W. River and Harrison. This well gave rise to a bath house and restaurant on the corner that was in operation for many years.

On the northside, a well was drilled at the corner of N. Bridge and W. Front, where the Lick-Ity Split stands today. This well accompanied a large three-story hotel and bath house known as the Dennison House and later the Mineral House.

Finally, a few years later another well was drilled on First Island for the enjoyment of the Island Resort patrons. In 1880 it was noted “There is a fine mineral spring on one of the islands, said to possess curative properties of a high order, and invalids looking for a place to spend the hot months will find the Seven Islands offer superior inducements."

Mills

As construction of the Upper Dam was nearing completion in August 1849, work commenced on the adjacent saw mill. Lumber for its construction was being sawed by Charles Butler in Dela Mills as this was the closest mill in operation. Once the order was complete there was only one way to get the lumber to Grand Ledge. The wood was bundled into a raft, and an Indian named “Duck” was hired to float the raft to its destination.

With the lumber under control, the men now turned to the needed iron castings. The firm of Turner Brothers in North Lansing got the contract. Once completed they were also rafted down the river to Grand Ledge, once again most likely with the help of “Duck”. The iron work was in a raw state and still needed to be drilled and fitting together. The only man who could do the work was Robert Nixon. He lived at Canada Settlement, four miles south on what is today Hartel Road. He has his own blacksmith shop and was able to do the work. So the ironwork was put on carts and dragged through the dense forest to his farm.

By December of 1849 the mill was finally complete and local trees turned into fine quality lumber. In 1850 the mill got a large order from an eastern company. Once completed the lumber was rafted down the river to Grand Haven. The contract was for 50,000 board feet of cherry at $12 per thousand feet.

In 1851 the saw mill got an order from the firm of Wood, Allen and Taylor. These local men were to build a flour mill on the north end of the dam. The site on the river bank was clear of its trees and the two story mill was soon erected. Turner Brothers again got the contract for the mill castings, however by this time a rough road had been cut through the forest.

David Taylor and his team of oxen carried all the castings from North Lansing to the flour mill. It was arduous work. It took many trips and the castings were extremely heavy. The wagon created deep ruts in the muddy road as they went. On one trip they were hauling the large spur wheel which weighed 1,500 pounds. In this case the trip back from Lansing took two days. The oxen had to pull the wagon through all the ruts made on previous journeys, and many times fell to their knees with the strain.

Once they finally reached Grand Ledge, the iron work had to be loaded on rafts and floated across to the north bank, there was still no bridge built at this time. The mill was finished in late 1851. Warren Brown was hired as the miller. The following year a great flood did terrible damage, and the mill was not repaired and put back into operation until 1853.

Dams

With the current interest in repairing or removing the dam, it is a good time to look back at the history of dams in Grand Ledge.

UPPER DAM

The first dam to span the river here in Grand Ledge was located just upstream from the bridge. In the spring of 1849 John Russell, his nephew David Taylor, and his brother-in-law Abram Smith, met in the Russell log cabin, west of town. The trio formed a company for the purpose of building a saw mill downtown and a dam to power it. They purchased 2 acres in the middle of the dense forest from Henry Trench, right below where the Opera House now stands. The parcel included a roofless, half finished shanty that the men completed. This was used as a bunk house for the men, about 30 of them, who were hired from Delta, Oneida and surround areas to do the work.

The dam was begun first. It was built of compacted stone, dirt and clay. Clay for the dam was dug from a pit in the 600 block of East Jefferson. A decade later, this clay pit would provide the material for the Loveless Pottery on Franklin Street. By August, the dam was completed.

The dam’s mill pond rose higher and flooded much of what we call JayCee Park today. This water provided power for a saw mill on the south bank and a flour mill on the northside. By 1910 the saw mill was gone, and the flour mill was torn down c1918. With the dam no longer needed, it was removed in the 1920s.

LOWER DAM

The Lower Dam or Stone Dam was begun in about 1878 by S. M.. Hewings, who owned the Seven Islands Resort downtown. He had a notion to have steamboats travel up and down The Grand for his resort. In order to get deeper water for his steamer, and for row boats he rented to the public, he built a temporary dam near the site of the present dam. This was crudely made of logs with stone fill. The top layers of the dam would be removed in the Spring to allow for the flow of ice.

In 1887 J.S. Mudge, the new owner of the Seven Islands Resort, replaced the temporary Hewings dam with a permanent Stone Dam. He also wanted to create a deep body of water for pleasure boating and swimming. Not only did this provide the water depth he wanted, but he also promoted this as the perfect fishing spot. Many anglers fished from the rocks near the shore or propped their boats right on the edge of the dam itself. The City acquired the dam when they purchased all the Resort property, including the seven river islands, in the 1930s.

A few decades after it was built, a large flat bank on the northside was dug up and replaced with the Dam Gates we see today. This allowed more control of the water level. These were originally covered by a Dam House to keep people off the gates. Sometime in the 1960s, The City wanted the House removed. My grandfather, Vic Haueter Sr, and his brother Mutt, who both owned property just above the dam, got the job of removal in exchange for keeping the building. I remember him telling me they used a tractor to pull the building up the bank. It is my suspicion that the Dam House was converted into a storage shed for my Uncle Mutt.

Whats in a name?

There has been an ongoing debate about the accurate names of Grand Ledge’s first two settlers. For decades we have second guessed ourselves as to the correct spelling. Sometimes cursive writing of the past can be difficult to read. However, with careful research of the handwritten documents, I was finally able to answer the question: What’s in a name?

Lampson or Lamson?

Edmund Lampson arrived in 1848, our First Permanent Settler. He owned over 160 acres along West Jefferson and the West side of town. Even during his lifetime, there was confusion over his last name. He was born Lampson, and used that name for many years. Early census records confirm this usage. However, as he got older, he began to switch to the Lamson spelling. In the directory of 1873, the editor hedged his bet by listing him as “Edmund S. Lampson (Lamson)”. Likewise, a decade later, a biographer described him as Edmund Lamson, the son of E. Lampson.

However in legal and official papers, he remained Lampson. In 1867 when he added several blocks to the city, it was under the name of The Lampson Addition. The centerpiece of this development was Lampson Street. After his death in 1889, much of his farm became neighborhoods off of West Jefferson Street. These were sold by the “Estate of E. Lampson”. Yet at the same time, his gravestone reads “Lamson”

Over the years, both versions of his name have been used. In a final ironic twist, the street that bares his name has in recent decades come to be re-spelled “Lamson Street”.

Trench or French?

Henry A. Trench was the first to settle, in c.1843, at what would become Grand Ledge. He was a highly educated man, but also restless and looking for solitude. He finally left Michigan in the 1860s, when he felt the area was too crowded. He was born Henry French in c1817. After completing college, he journeyed into the wild frontier of Michigan with only his wife, leaving not only his education, but also his name, behind him.

Although the Censuses of 1840 & 1850 list him as Henry French, to his Michigan neighbors he was always known as Henry Trench. We have several accounts written by men who knew him personally, and they all agree on this. Henry even wrote essays for the newspaper and signed them “H.A.T.”

Beginning with the Census of 1860, he was listed as Henry Trench. Even after he left Michigan and returned to Connecticut with his family, he remained Trench in all the records. Of his four children, some eventually retuned their last name to French, however Henry and his son Ira, kept using the name Trench for the rest of their lives.

When I refer to these two prominent pioneers, I use Lampson and Trench. Edmund Lampson used this name when he added neighborhoods to the city, so that is what I choose to use. Henry Trench used this name among his fellow settlers, and indeed for his life thereafter.

As a side note – While researching, I shared some of the information in this column with Lorabeth Fitzgerald last year, just weeks before her death. I am sorry she never got to read the final version.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

School Transportation

School transportation is hot topic these days, but in general it is expected that students will be provided transportation to school from wherever they live. This was certainly not always the case. I often think about what students used to have to go through to get an education.

For 8-year-old Loa Lampson going to school in the autumn of 1851 was a not an easy endeavor. She lived in a double log cabin called “the Siamese Twins” which her father Edmund had built three years earlier in a clearing off of West Jefferson Street. Loa and her brother Romulus, age 11, would have to follow an old Indian trail along the river-- the only path through the woods. This would lead them, along what is today W. River Street, to a flat plain on the south river bank, below Bridge Street today. Here they would find a beehive of activity in the middle of the forest. A dam had been built across the river with a saw mill on the southern end. No bridge yet spanned the Grand, so the children had to carefully walk along the top of the stone dam to reach the north bank, taking great care not to fall into the icy river. During the winter they would be able to cross on the frozen river, while in the spring, they would have to be ferried across during the spring floods.

Once they reached the north bank, they would have to climb up a steep gully beside a small wandering creek. At the top (what is now the corner of Bridge and Front Streets) they would follow another footpath through the woods until they reached another clearing. In the center sat the newly built Red School with its fresh coat of paint (near greenwood school today). It had one room and six benches for the students. Miss Mary Ann Sanders was their teacher.

Even some eighty years later in the 1930s, when the city schools provided high school education for 39 rural districts, getting to school was still a problem. Families living in the country could not bring children to school daily. During this time country children who wished to attend High School had to find city families who would let them board in their home. In return the children were expected to do chores for the family and help around the house. Then on Fridays, the children would return to their family farm until Sunday afternoon.

My own grandparents, Bernie and Alice Hershoren, were one such host family. They had two young children at the time and in return for help around the house, let a few young students board with them. One of these girls, Minnie Wolodko would later marry Jack Kingsley and become our neighbor for many decades.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Doty’s: A long Tradition

With the passing of the first decade of this century, we also see the demise of one of Grand Ledge’s oldest firms. Sadly, Doty Floral closed at the end of 2009. The Doty’s have been in the area from the beginning and part of the Grand Ledge business community for over a hundred years.

It all started in the 1830s, when Lazarus Doty came to Eagle Township from New York and entered a large tract of land for each of his three sons: Oliver in section 26 on State Road, Philo in section 14 along the Looking Glass River, and Charles in section 34 on State Road.

The Doty Brothers were successful and well respected farmers. A journalist in the 1880’s noted "The three are residents of the township, and still occupy the land entered for them by their father. The family has been one of the most substantial and enterprising in the township.” Philo Doty operated the second saw mill in the township on his farm, using the waters of the Looking Glass to power it.

doty3

At the turn of the last century, it was Philo’s decedents that came to Grand Ledge to find their way in the business community. Two of Philo’s sons, Ellis and Sanford, bought a thirty-year-old grain elevator in Grand Ledge in 1901. The new firm of Doty & Doty operated their elevator next to the railroad tracks on N. Clinton Street and offered Grain, Beans, Wood, Coal and more. In 1921 Doty & Doty merged with the Ireland Elevator and the Grand Ledge Produce Company was born. Sanford’s son Roy was the general manager for the next 20 years.

DotyFloral_c1913

Ellis’s son Mark opened Doty & Huggert Greenhouse on Spring Street in 1913. The business has been known over the years as Doty’s Greenhouse, Doty’s Greenhouse and Flower Shop, and finally Doty Floral. They used to advertise as “Flowers that Satisfy – It’s always springtime at our house” Mark’s son Dean ran the business for many years and Dean’s daughter Joanne continued on after him. After Joanne passing, another Doty descendant carried on with the business. It was one of Grand Ledge’s oldest firms and maybe the only one to be in the same family for so many years.

doty2

The Doty name has not left our business community however. Doty Agency continues to carry on the family name. Roy Doty’s son Stuart Doty began selling insurance in the 1940s. He worked out of the Loan & Deposit Building downtown early on but later had the Doty Building at 400 S. Bridge before moving to the new Doty Insurance Building on Saginaw Hwy.

doty1