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.