Publisher/Executive Director and CEO, Historical Society of Michigan
Larry J. Wagenaar
Senior Director of Education and Communications
Amy Bradfield
Director of Communications
Amy Wagenaar
Editor in Chief
Sarah Hamilton
Features Editor
Natasha De Souza
Special Sections Editor
Marie Grogitsky
Member Relations and Database Manager
Philip Slane
Office and Circulation Supervisor
James Hall
Contributing Editor
Le Roy G. Barnett
HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF MICHIGAN BOARD OF TRUSTEES
President Shannon White
Vice President
Richard Wiener
Karen Batchelor
Sharon Carlson
Julie Croll
Connie Dang
Delia Fernández-Jones
Thomas George
Eric Hemenway
Lindsay Hiltunen
Kimberly A. Lloyd
Secretary Virginia Paganelli Caruso
Treasurer Robert VerHeulen
Jenice Mitchell Ford Blaire Morseau
Donna Odom
Maria Elena Rodriguez
Chuck Stokes
David Trebing
Daniel Truckey
Frank Wilhelme
To submit queries and manuscripts, please email editor@hsmichigan.org. Submission Guidelines can be found at hsmichigan.org. Books for “Good Reads” should be sent to Book Review Editor, Michigan History, 7435 Westshire Drive, Lansing, MI 48917. MichiganHistory assumes no responsibility for unsolicited photos, manuscripts, or books or for statements of fact or opinion made by contributors.
If you have any questions about your subscription, have missed issues, have a change of address, are receiving duplicate issues, want to order gift subscriptions, want to renew your subscription, or want to purchase back issues, call toll-free at (800) 366-3703. Lansing-area residents, call (517) 332-1828. Operating hours: Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., ET (holidays excluded).
MichiganHistory (ISSN 0026-2196) is published six times a year, with an annual subscription rate of $24.95, by the Historical Society of Michigan. Periodical postage paid at Lansing, MI, and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Michigan History, 7435 Westshire Drive, Lansing, MI 48917
Highlighting the State’s Natural Beauty
Did you notice something new in our last issue? In Michigan History magazine, we have several content badges—Arts and Cultural Heritage, Northern Lower Michigan Heritage, and Great Lakes and Waterways Heritage. The sponsorship for those badges enables our staff to solicit and publish articles about these essential areas of Michigan history. With our last issue, we added a new one! Our Natural History and Conservation badge debuted with an article about Douglass Houghton, Michigan’s first state geologist. It was only fitting to premier the badge with this notable figure in Michigan’s natural history.
Michigan’s natural wonders are myriad and extraordinary. The state has such a dramatic array of landscapes, from the Black Rocks near Marquette, to the colossal sand dunes at Sleeping Bear, to the flat, glacialtill plains of the Central Lower Peninsula. Our unique fruit belt along the Western Lower Peninsula—which contributes to making Michigan the second-most agriculturally diverse state in the nation—further illustrates Michigan’s variety of natural wonders. Then, there are the species that have found productive ecological niches in our state, like Kirtland’s warblers, Karner blue butterflies, prairie smoke plants, and lake sturgeon. We are so fortunate to live in a state with such a range of natural environments, and I am thrilled that the Rollin M. Gerstacker Foundation is funding our efforts to bring you more of those stories.
In this issue, you’ll meet a familiar conservationist with a surprising Michigan connection: Jimmy Carter! As an avid outdoorsman, the former president came to Northern Michigan in 1986 specifically to hunt ruffed grouse with his friend, Jack Crockford. While searching for grouse habitat in Pigeon River State Forest, the hunters came across a couple of elk, as well as charred stumps from the area’s logging past.
What do we have in store for you next? Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise too early! You are going to meet some people who have worked to further the knowledge of natural sciences in Michigan, learn about our state’s unique flora and fauna, and maybe even finally learn how that one weird rock formation got to look that way. So, head outside while you read this issue. Personally, I plan to be on my front porch, hanging out with the house sparrow that made a nest in my geraniums. Let those stories inspire you to love all the natural beauty that the Great Lakes State has to offer.
Sarah Hamilton Editor In Chief Historical Society of Michigan
By Deborah J. Larsen
By Dianna Stampfler
Brian McMahon
Amie M. Jones
Argus Cameras in began in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1936. Two years later, the C3 camera, or “The Brick,” rocketed the company to success, eventually making it the number-two camera manufacturer after Eastman Kodak. Turn to page 16 to learn more about this Michigan company. (Photo courtesy of the Ann Arbor District Library.)
Talk to us!
We love hearing from you about Michigan History. Write to us by emailing editor@hsmichigan.org, sending mail to 7435 Westshire Dr., Lansing, MI 48917, or messaging us on Facebook at Michigan History Magazine.
A FAMILY TIE
Your March/April 2024 issue had a great article [“Keeping it Cool: Michigan’s Refrigerator Capital” by Gary L. Hauck] on the history of Marvel Refrigeration, with extensive coverage on Ranney Refrigerator founded in Greenville, Michigan, in 1892. My locket photos are of the founders, Frederick Ellis Ranney and his wife, Mary Louise—my great-grandparents. F.E., as they called my greatgrandfather, rode his horse the seven miles from his Belding, Michigan, farm to Greenville every day. Ranney Refrigerator became one of the largest manufacturers of refrigerators in the country. In 1938, the year I was born, and throughout the twentieth century, Greenville was known as the “Refrigerator Capital of the World.”
Susan Brace Lovell, Grand rapids
STRUCK OUT WILLIE MAYS
I enjoyed “Batter U.P.: Escanaba’s Boys of Summer” by Peter Morris in the May/June 2024 Michigan History magazine about the graduates of Escanaba High School, or local Escanaba workers, who made it to “The Show.” It reminded me of John Hardy Goetz, naturally from Goetzville, Michigan, also in the Upper Peninsula.
We knew Goetz from playing in the downtown Detroit Lawyers softball league in the 1970s. It was legendary that he pitched with his right hand despite being lefthanded. He played for two weeks in 1960 for the Chicago Cubs—hence his nickname, “Cubby.” Goetz had also played college baseball for Western Michigan University.
The reason Goetz enrolled at the University of Detroit Law School is because official stats show he only pitched 6 1/3 innings in 4 games and had an unenviable 12.79 earnedrun average. However, we all knew that one of his six strikeouts was the great Willie Mays.
Frank Porretta, Ortonville
MAYHEM IN THE STREETS
The article “A Hard Day’s Night in Detroit: The Beatles at Olympia Stadium” by John D. Van Dyke in the May/June 2024 issue brought back memories. I still have my unused Beatles concert ticket from Sunday, September 6, 1964, 2 p.m.
at Olympia Stadium—balcony, section 36, row F, seat 14. Based on a “hot tip” passed around our homeroom class at South Junior High in Kalamazoo, Michigan, I had mailed a check for $3 to purchase it. It had not occurred to me to coordinate with other kids attending. My parents had friends in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, and agreed that our whole family would visit there while I went to the concert.
While we were at our friends’ home, my parents saw television news footage of the mayhem in the streets surrounding the stadium and quite reasonably decided that it would be impossible to drop me off by the stadium. They told me I could not attend. I was devastated. Once home, I gave that ticket an entire page in my scrapbook with the solemn caption, “The most valuable thing I have ever owned.” It is now displayed in a frame and is probably worth more than $3!
Marcia v. Stucki, Galesburg
ANOTHER PUPPETEER
I was delighted to read about the Michigan connection of Burr Tillstrom featured in “A Hand in TV History: Burr Tillstrom’s Kukla, Fran, and Ollie” by Kendall Wingrove in the March/April 2024 issue. There was, however, another puppeteer who achieved significant fame in Detroit, Michigan, during
the 1950s, and that was Clyde Adler. He was a mainstay of the WXYZ-TV Lunch with Soupy Sales show. Adler was the beloved unseen manipulator of the paws and voices for Soupy’s two dogs, White Fang and Black Tooth. Adler also handled the smaller puppets, Pookie and Hippie, who appeared at the window during Soupy’s lunch. Adler and Soupy substituted for Kukla, Fran and Ollie over the summer in 1955. I learned from Jane Adler, Clyde’s wife, that he was asked to join Jim Henson’s Muppets crew. Because of some health issues, he had to decline. Nonetheless, Clyde Adler achieved lasting endearment for his puppet work on the Soupy Sales lunchtime program.
Francis Shor, royal Oak
SOMETHING OF INTEREST
As usual, I enjoyed all the articles, advertisements, and announcements in the May/ June 2024 issue of Michigan History magazine. There is always something of interest, and sometimes I read about places I have visited or enjoyed during my many decades living in beautiful Michigan. I sometimes send copies of articles to friends who have an interest in them.
That issue’s article “Batter U.P.: Escanaba’s Boys of Summer” by Peter Morris really caught my eye— especially when it mentioned “Jack” Perrin, his travels, and his work at Southwestern High School in Detroit, Michigan. That school was of special interest to me because my dad, Richard H. Strohmer Jr., taught
there and was the athletic director from 1922—Southwestern’s first year—until 1958, when he retired.
The article indicates that Perrin was the athletic director, but I know that my dad was. Perrin did indeed teach there and for a few years was a coach there. In those days, Southwestern High School was the premier school in the city with all the bells and whistles of the day, and certainly Fielding Yost would have known that and recommended that Perrin seek a position there.
Keep up the good writing with the stories that you publish. They have great value for both the reading and the history that they contain!
Jim Strohmer, Grand rapids
Locker Room Notes Uncovered
While working to expand the tour of the fourth level of the Shaft-Rock House at the Painesdale Mine and Shaft, workers discovered handwritten notes in a space that served as a type of locker room. The notes, written in pencil on the wall, cover topics including snowstorms, when new employees started, rock hammer cable lengths, and important mine events. One of the most historically significant notes records the date of the last hoist when the mine closed on September 6, 1967.
In order to share those important connections to the people of the past, a clear plexiglass barrier has been installed, as well as a UV-blocking window to prevent the writing from fading. Additional renovations to the site include walkway repairs to expand foot access within the building. Visitors can view the notes during a tour of the upper levels of the shaft house, one of the oldest remaining in the Keweenaw Copper Country.
Civil War Training Site Found
Archaeological scans and historic maps have revealed the location of six barracks at Camp Ward, a training site for African-American soldiers from Michigan and Canada who made up the 102nd United States Colored Troops. The scans of the ground around Campau Park on Detroit’s east side were completed by researchers from the Michigan Underground Railroad Exploratory Collective, the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History, and the University of Michigan’s Museum of Anthropological Archaeology.
African Americans were not permitted to fight as soldiers in the Civil War until the Emancipation
Proclamation was issued by President Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863. Nearly 1,400 men from Michigan and Canada joined the 102nd, many of them freedom seekers who had journeyed to the area along the Underground Railroad. The small team working on the project hopes to complete more scans in the future, which may lead to an excavation of the site. The barrack structures—which were made of wood—may be gone due to decomposition, but the hope is that other artifacts remain that can deepen the understanding of the impact of African-American soldiers during the Civil War.
Top: A close-up sample of the writing found on the fourth level of the Shaft-Rock House. The date of the last hoist is at the bottom of the picture. Right: The wall where the writing appears behind a plexiglass shield. (Photos courtesy of Painesdale Mine and Shaft.)
Above: Lutullus Penton Jr. portraying Jessie Hill, a member of the 102nd United States Colored Troops at a Historical Society of Michigan event. easTeRn
Fire Destroys Historic Roller Rink
A fateful lightning strike is the probable cause of the fire that destroyed the Ramona Roller Rink in Sister Lakes, Michigan, on May 7, 2024. Luckily, the rink was closed at the time and there were no injuries.
When the venue opened in 1928, it was called the Ramona Dance Pavilion. The popularity of roller skating in the 1950s led to the pavilion being converted to a roller rink. Visitors to the multiple resorts in the area enjoyed having a place to make memories after a day of fun on the surrounding lakes. Harold Schaus, a long-time employee of the Ramona, purchased the business in 2004, and the family still owns it today.
Work is being done to rebuild and reopen the Ramona thanks to successful fundraising activities with more planned in the future. The miniature golf course next to the rink remains open for business.
Historic Theater Renovated
The Michigan Theater in Jackson reopened in June after an extensive renovation, once again providing entertainment for people in the region as it has for nearly 100 years. The project was the first major work done to the theater since it opened in 1930. Workers removed damaged plaster in the auditorium and mezzanine, and an archivist helped identify the “period correct” color palette to repaint the auditorium and medallions in the balcony. New lighting and rigging were installed and the bulbs in the marquee were replaced with LED energy efficient bulbs. Visit michigantheater.org to view show times or donate to the restoration project.
On This Date
Sep 8
Sep 14
Suomi College, the first Finnish institution of higher education in the United States, opened in Hancock with 27 students. (1896)
A “topping out” ceremony celebrated the placement of the final steel beams at the Renaissance Center’s Plaza Hotel, then the world’s tallest hotel. (1976)
Sep 22
Sep 29 Oct 5 Oct 10 Oct 15 Oct 22
The American Legion sponsored the longest parade in Michigan’s history, lasting eight hours and including 85,000 marchers. (1931)
American troops recaptured Fort Detroit from the British, who had captured it in August 1812. (1813)
Voters approved Michigan’s first state constitution two years before U.S. Congress accepted Michigan statehood and its constitution. (1835)
The Detroit Tigers won their second World Series Championship, beating the Chicago Cubs 9–3 in the deciding seventh game at Wrigley Field in Chicago. (1945)
Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac, who founded Detroit, died in Castelsarrasin, France. (1730)
The Grand Trunk Western train car ferry Milwaukee sank in a violent storm, resulting in the loss of 52 lives. (1929)
Above: The ruins of the roller rink. (Photo courtesy of Loralei Ellison.)
Left: The Michigan Theater in Jackson. (Photo courtesy of Katlyne Danko.)
Forest Heritage Trail Dedicated
The new Forest Heritage Trail— running 19 miles between Hartwick Pines State Park and North Higgins Lake State Park—was dedicated in May in Grayling, Michigan. A total of 19 interpretive panels were installed along the trail to highlight the area’s forest and cultural heritage, including the uses of the land by the Anishinaabe, who have called the area home for thousands of years.
Some points of interest along the trail include the location of a 2008 forest fire and the W.J. Beal Tree Plantation. Panels share the stories of people like Karen Hartwick, who donated the 8,000-acre parcel that became Hartwick Pines State Park, as well as the importance of the Au Sable River and surrounding forests to the economic development of the area.
The project was developed by the Michigan History Center in partnership with the Michigan
Department of Natural Resources’s Parks and Recreation Division and Central Michigan University. Community partners of the project included the Little Traverse Bay Bands of Odawa Indians and the Crawford County Historical Society.
During the dedication of the Forest Heritage Trail, a new Michigan Historical Marker was unveiled. The marker recognizes the work of Charles Garfield, the president of the Michigan Forestry Commission from 1899 to 1909. During his career, Garfield promoted tree planting and worked to advance less wasteful timbering methods.
Historical Society of Michigan Wins Humanities Award
The Historical Society of Michigan (HSM) is proud to be the 2024 recipient of the Outstanding Humanities Organization Award from Michigan Humanities. The award is granted to an organization that has made a lasting contribution to the enjoyment of public and accessible humanities programming in Michigan. As part of the Outstanding Humanities Organization award, Michigan Humanities granted HSM $2,500 to use toward its projects supporting that work.
Michigan Humanities is committed to promoting and supporting humanities programming that explores,
strengthens, and celebrates the stories, histories, and cultures of all people in Michigan.
As the state’s oldest cultural organization, HSM uplifts Michigan history through programs and events, publications, awards, referral services, and support of local history organizations. Programs like Michigan History Day® for elementary through high school students, networking events for local history leaders, and Michigan History magazine all help Michigan residents connect with the stories of the past.
“We are delighted that Michigan Humanities has recognized the work of the Historical Society of Michigan with their Outstanding Humanities Organization Award,” commented executive director and CEO Larry J. Wagenaar. “HSM has served the state for nearly two centuries, and we look forward to continuing to preserve and promote Michigan’s rich and diverse history in the years to come.”
Right: Two of the 19 interpretive panels along the Forest Heritage Trail. (Photos courtesy of Shelby Laupp, Michigan Department of Natural Resources.)
Upcoming Events U.P. History Award Winners Announced
history hounds®
September 3: A Capitol and its Cameras: Legislative Photographers Under the Dome
September 11: Michigan’s Pompeii: The Lost Town of Singapore
September 17: A Park and a Steamer: The Tale of Tashmoo
October 1: REWIND - Little House in the Big Woods: The Life of Laura Ingalls Wilder
history skills Workshops®
September 13: Bringing in the Bucks: Grant Writing 101 (Virtual)
October 11: Consultation & Collaboration: Including Tribal Nations & Communities in Your Museum (Virtual)
November 1: Guiding History Adventures: Creating and Leading Tours (Virtual)
November 18: History For Everyone: Enhancing Accessibility in Your Organization (Virtual)
December 6: Historic Books: How to Identify, Collect, and Care for Valuable Volumes (Virtual)
D ON ’ T MISS AN y HSM EVENTS
HSM sends out a Weekly HSM Events update to our email subscribers each week with the upcoming slate of History Hounds and History Skills Workshops. If you would like to receive those emails and more from HSM, sign up at www.hsm.pub/emailsignup
The 2024 Upper Peninsula History Awards and History Hero Award were presented at the 75th Annual Upper Peninsula History Conference in June. Each year, the Historical Society of Michigan (HSM) presents two Upper Peninsula-based awards: the Charles Follo Award for individuals and the Superior Award for historical organizations.
This year’s Charles Follo Award recipient was Diedre “Dee” A. Stevens of Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. Stevens has volunteered countless hours of work with the Chippewa County Historical Society (CCHS). She created several searchable databases for CCHS, cataloged and indexed the CCHS’s extensive collection of photographic prints and negatives, and created a filing system for the photo vault and its database. She also translated her research into numerous lectures and programs.
The Superior Award recipient was the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society. In 1978, a group of scuba divers and educators founded the society to discover, explore, document, and interpret Lake Superior’s historic shipwrecks. The group established the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum at the Whitefish Point Light Station and also operates a museum site in the old U.S. Weather Bureau building in Soo Locks Park.
Phil Porter of Cheboygan, Michigan, received HSM’s History Hero Award. In his professional career with Mackinac State Historic Parks, Porter started as a tour guide at Fort Mackinac, and later became curator of collections. He then was curator of interpretation and chief curator, and in 2003 became director of the Mackinac State Historic Parks. He served in that capacity until he retired in 2020.
Help Us Share Michigan’s Story
Every July, HSM starts a new fiscal year, with many programs starting the following fall alongside our schools and universities. HSM’s Annual Appeal occurs every July to ensure its new fiscal year starts strong. Thanks to the continued support of members, subscribers, and friends, HSM can continue to tell the ever-evolving story of Michigan’s history. Giving to HSM through the Annual Appeal helps fund our outreach and events to audiences both new and familiar. For example, programs like Michigan History Day® enable more than 3,000 Michigan students to develop a deeper understanding of history. Since HSM does not receive any state-appropriated funding, donors are the driving force behind the vital resources that HSM offers. Learn more about the Society, the giving options that are available, and other ways to support HSM in its mission by calling (517) 324-1828 or visiting www.hsm.pub/annualappeal24.
Above: Charles Follo winner Diedre Stevens with HSM’s Bob Myers.
Annie Edson Taylor
(1838-1921)
By Chuck Lyons
The first person to defy Niagara Falls in a barrel—and survive to tell the tale—was not some beefy lumberjack or professional daredevil, but a widowed dance teacher from Bay City, Michigan. In an oak barrel pumped full of air with a bicycle pump, Annie Taylor successfully tackled the Horseshoe Falls on October 24, 1901—her sixty-third birthday.
When Taylor’s Bay City dance school began to fail, she realized she needed to come up with a plan. Her savings were almost exhausted, she had no pension, and Social Security was still more than 30 years away. “[I]f I could do something no one in the world had ever done,” she later wrote, “I could make some money honestly and quickly.”
Spurred on by that resolution and realizing the welladvertised Pan American Exposition—including a visit by President William McKinley—was being held in Buffalo, New York, just 20 miles south of the falls, Taylor decided she had found her answer. “It would be fame and fortune or instant death,” she wrote.
Annie Taylor and the barrel in which she went over Niagara Falls. The cat in the photo is likely the same cat that went over the falls in a test run. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, G.G. Bain Collection, LCB2- 1119-13[P&P].)
With her newfound certainty, she sketched out a plan for a barrel that would fit her and some cushioning and contacted a local cooper, Jack Rozenski. After some reluctance, he agreed to make the custom barrel out of oak that had been oiled to repel water. When finished, the staves were held together by ten 2-inch iron hoops and the barrel weighed 160 pounds. Taylor and her barrel, named Queen of the Mist, arrived in Niagara Falls, New York, on October 13.
On October 24, Taylor climbed into the barrel and strapped herself down, surrounded by two cushions and a pillow. The barrel closed at 4:05 p.m. and Taylor was launched from a boat above the falls. The barrel went over the falls at 4:23 p.m. with Taylor gripping its straps and trying to relax her muscles.
The barrel hit the water below the falls, sank down into it, and rocketed up to the surface. Taylor survived. The barrel was opened at 4:40 p.m. and two men helped her out; blood dripping from a superficial gash on her head was her only injury.
However, the wealth and fame Taylor had envisioned never happened. She worked the vaudeville circuit, with bookings in Ohio and Michigan, but soon those dried up. Taylor spent the rest of her life earning a meager living running a souvenir stand in Niagara Falls where she posed for photographs with tourists, briefly working as a clairvoyant, and watching her sudden fame fade.
She died in 1921 at the age of 82, a patient at the Niagara County Infirmary. She was penniless.A
Chuck Lyons is a retired newspaper editor and a freelance writer who has written extensively on historical subjects. Lyons resides in Rochester, New York, with his wife, Brenda, and a golden retriever named Jack.
Above: A view of Niagara Falls. (Photo courtesy of Pixabay/ASTemplates. Background photo courtesy of Pixabay/Rickbella.)
CenTRaL
Idlewild’s First Church
Houses of worship are an important part of every community, providing comfort and camaraderie to those who live in the area year-round while also welcoming visitors wanting to celebrate their faith. The Tabernacle African Methodist Episcopal Church was the first church to welcome the faithful in Idlewild, Michigan. As one of the most famous African-American resort communities in the country, Idlewild is known for performances and revues by some of the leading African-American entertainers of the twentieth century.
The Tabernacle African Methodist Episcopal Church was founded under a different name—the People’s Community Church of Christ. Reverend Harry Franklin Bray started the church more than 100 years ago and served as pastor at the first service on August 19, 1923. The original roof collapsed due to heavy snow in 1928. A new building was completed the next year, and a speech was given by then-Governor Fred Green at the dedication. In 1939, Reverend Bray recommended that the congregation join the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church and the Idlewild congregation was accepted to the Michigan AME Conference. Reverend Bray passed away six days later.
Another big change came in 1963 when the building was reoriented 180 degrees and encased with a brick façade, which is how the church looks today. Over its 100-year history, many notable African Americans have been guest speakers at the church, including Ida B. Wells. Today, the Tabernacle African Methodist Episcopal Church continues to serve the people of Idlewild as it has for the past century. A
WesTeRn
Above: The dedication of the new church building in 1929. Right: Reverend Bray served as pastor of the first church in Idlewild from 1923 to 1939. (All photos courtesy of the Lake County Historical Society, unless otherwise noted.)
Below: The church as it appears today with the brick exterior that was added in 1963. Right: The interior of the church today. (Photo courtesy of Chris Grier.)
Great Lakes Graveyard Wreck of the Atlanta
By ric Mixter
Lake Superior’s “shipwreck coast” holds deep secrets that are slowly rising to the surface. The 2021 discovery of the schooner Atlanta—a 172-foot barge that sank on May 4, 1891, leaving only two survivors— is a prime example of how dangerous that Upper Peninsula coastline is.
At 5 p.m. on June 21, 1890, the Atlanta splashed into the Saginaw River at Bay City, Michigan. Built by Captain James Davidson—world-famous for his huge wooden ships crafted from Michigan white oak trees—the Atlanta and its sister ship, the Nirvana, were commissioned by businessmen Charles E. Eastman, Wilber W. Steele, and Charles E. Jennison.
The giant barge had steel keelsons and a steel arch on the outside, built flush with the oak planking for a streamlined look. The cabins were finished in oiled hardwoods, and the carpets and cutlery were listed as “the very best.” The Atlanta delivered 806,574 board feet of lumber on its first trip, sailing to Chicago, Illinois.
On April 27, 1891, the Atlanta and Nirvana cleared the port of Erie, Pennsylvania, with 1,350 tons of coal each, being pulled past Detroit, Michigan, by the steamer Wilhelm, which had an additional 1,200 tons in its hold. On April 30, the trio departed for Ashland on Wisconsin’s Lake Superior shore.
The three ships cleared the Soo Locks on Saturday, May 2, at 7 p.m. A northwest gale hit the next morning.
There are no known photos of the Atlanta. However, her sister ship, the Nirvana pictured here—looked nearly identical.
Captain Henry Bennett of the Wilhelm realized he had made a mistake in leaving the protection of Whitefish Point. He ordered the wheelsman to turn the Wilhelm around to try to make the 75 miles back to safety. At 10 p.m. and about 45 miles from Whitefish Point, the tow line snapped, and the Atlanta drifted loose. Captain Isaac Potter of the Nirvana reported seeing the ship for about an hour after the line snapped, but then it vanished into the trough of a wave.
Survivors said they hoisted the schooner’s sail, but the foreboom snapped and the foresail was ripped into ribbons. The crew discovered a leak and found the ship unmanageable. They abandoned the Atlanta the next morning when they discovered ten feet of water in the hold.
The female cook was wrapped in a quilt, and the crew loaded in a lifeboat and pushed away from the schooner, watching it sink just 10 minutes later. Seven men and the cook rowed 20 miles until they were just off the Crisp Point Life-Saving Station, sighting land around 11 a.m. Captain James L. Knowlton proposed rowing toward the calmer beaches past Whitefish Point, but the freezing crew pled to go straight to shore. It was at this time that the waves threw a crewman from the boat. After rescuing him, the group opted to row to the nearest shore. At 6 p.m., a heavy breaker flipped their boat again. The captain, mate, and a crewman sank immediately beneath the water. The remaining crew endured another overturning wave, leaving Eli Wait and John Pickel—both from Saginaw, Michigan— the only survivors.
Above: The nameboard of the Atlanta. (All photos courtesy of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society.)
U.P.
Whitefish Township Supervisor William Hawkins saw the lifeboat as it approached land. He thought it was the station men practicing in the surf, but when he saw the first upset of the boat, he ran to the station to get help. The station crew was eating dinner and had no idea of the peril outside their door. Captain Robert M. Small ran into the surf and found Wait. Surfman McKenzie retrieved Pickel. Lifesavers tried to reach the cook and another crewman, but the two were reported lost to the undertow. Small would later report that it took several hours to revive the men. Surfman Frank McKanna, who was on lookout during the ordeal, was promptly fired by the keeper.
Crisp Point lifesavers discovered Captain Knowlton’s body 18 days later. The body of Frank Durrell, the first mate of the Atlanta, was discovered the following month near Iroquois Island by the Vermilion Point Life-Saving Station crew. Durrell’s wedding had been scheduled to occur only a few months later.
Atlanta’s owner, Charles Eastman, would later meet further misfortune less than 200 miles from where his ship disappeared. In 1899, Eastman and businessman Hugh F. Kendall were prospecting some mining opportunities in the forests of Nipigon, Ontario, when they lost their guide. The duo survived six nights near Black Sturgeon Lake with no way of igniting a fire, allegedly eating raw fish and two partridges they had killed with a revolver. Eventually, the businessmen took shelter in an empty shack. Native American rescuers later found them by following a trail of things they abandoned on their hike.
The next year, Eastman left for the Pacific Northwest, hoping to rebuild his fortune. For ten years, he purchased timber lands, which earned him $1 million. In 1910, in poor health and facing kidney surgery, Eastman wrote to his fiancé, Susan Fauley, stating that he wanted her to have one-fourth of his estate.
The letter went unmailed and Eastman died in the Battle Creek Sanitarium in 1912. After the letter turned up, Pauley claimed a quarter of his fortune. Eastman’s sisters disputed the claim all the way to the state of Washington’s Supreme Court, which ruled against Pauley. She received nothing.
In 2021, the Great Lakes Shipwrecks Historical Society located the wreck of the Atlanta while using sonar. Located 35 miles off Deer Park, Michigan, the “wonderfully preserved shipwreck” lies 650 feet below the surface. A
ric Mixter shares stories in print, on stage, and on television to millions of viewers on PBS, the Discovery Channel, and National Geographic Explorer.
Top: Atlanta’s wheel as it looks today in the depths of Lake Superior. Middle: The frigid waters of Lake Superior have kept the Atlanta well-preserved. Bottom: A photo of the bathroom area of the wreck.
A Snapshot of History Argus Cameras in Ann Arbor
By Deborah J. Larsen
In closets all across the Great Lakes State sit thousands of boxes and albums of family vacation photos, often featuring Michigan’s landmarks and attractions. Many of those treasured images were made possible by the innovative and inexpensive Argus camera manufactured in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
The Argus camera was the brainchild of Charles A. Verschoor, who was born in Dundee, Michigan, in 1888. Verschoor had a scientifically inclined and inventive mind, and his interests first gravitated toward the emerging automobile industry. After working in the United States Department of War during World War I, he became involved with several Ann Arbor-based manufacturing concerns.
In 1931, Verschoor organized the International Radio Corporation in Ann Arbor. Launching a company during the Great Depression was no small challenge. Verschoor secured funding for his new venture by convincing Ann Arbor businessman and future mayor William E. Brown Jr. and his associates that they should invest in a project that would provide jobs for the city’s unemployed and revitalize a vacant factory. International Radio quickly introduced the Kadette portable radio, which met with huge success.
Developing new Film
Despite the success of the Kadette, Verschoor, an avid amateur photographer, turned his attention to a new product line. After purchasing a Leica camera on a trip to Europe, he began to imagine a small, easy-to-use, and inexpensive camera that he could market to the casual family photographer. This dream prompted the development of what was first known as the Argus Candid Miniature Camera and later
renamed the Model A. The name “Argus” came from the hundredeyed giant of Greek mythology. Using 35mm film, the camera was introduced to the public in 1936 and was soon flying off store shelves at a price of $12.50—a relatively affordable price for such a luxury item. Adding to the appeal, its lightweight resin body made it easy to carry and less fragile than other cameras of the time. A company ad published in the Ann Arbor Daily News in the spring of 1936 boasted that “the instant popularity of ARGUS Candid Camera has swept the country like wildfire and although production has been doubled and tripled, it has not yet been possible to catch up with the present huge demand.”
Although the Model A camera found its market with the public quickly and the company’s fortunes soared, it was a subsequent model that really put Argus cameras on the map. The C3 camera— affectionately nicknamed “The Brick” for its size and shape—was
Left: Besides cameras, Argus also produced telescopes. (Photo courtesy of the Argus Museum.)
The Argus Autotronic. (All photos courtesy of the Ann Arbor District Library, unless otherwise noted.)
The Argus building in Ann Arbor, c. 1930s. (Photo courtesy of the Argus Museum.)
developed in 1938 and hit the market in September 1939. It featured a range finder and built-in flash synchronization and soon became Argus’s flagship product. One of America’s most popular mass-market cameras in its day, the Argus C3 was destined to reach a production total of more than 2 million units before it was finally discontinued in 1966.
shooting From new angles
Argus, like many American manufacturers, turned its attention to military contracts during World War II. The company made telescopes, binoculars, and special sights for British anti-tank guns. Producing those wartime products necessitated the expansion of the optics division and, consequently, an expansion of the Ann Arbor plant. When domestic production resumed after the war, Argus rounded out its catalog with new products that utilized the work of
the optics division, such as projectors, a movie camera, and various photographic accessories.
A noteworthy innovation by Argus was its ceiling projector, used widely to aid disabled veterans in the postwar era. Eugene B. Power, director of University Microfilms International of Ann Arbor, approached Argus about the project after being temporarily bedridden with a broken hip. Power grew tired of looking at a blank ceiling above his bed and envisioned that books projected on the ceiling would help pass the time productively. Argus partnered with him to manufacture a ceiling projector and to create a nonprofit, Projected Books, Inc., to produce the book images. The ceiling projector was first demonstrated in 1944 at Percy Jones Army
Clockwise from top left: Commonly called “The Brick,” Argus’s C3 camera was its flagship product for decades.
A man tests Argus’s slide projectors, one of their many non-camera products. (Photo courtesy of the Argus Museum.)
The Kadette Radio was Argus’s first product. Argus employed many men and women; here, three women workers peek out of a window at the Argus building. (Photo courtesy of the Argus Museum.) The Argoflex was a twin-lens reflex camera.
Hospital in Battle Creek, Michigan, and thereafter was placed in veterans hospitals across the nation.
Fueled by the continued popularity of its C3 camera, Argus enjoyed strong profits during the early postwar period. Forbes noted that the company ended its fiscal year in 1954 with record sales and had thus firmly established itself as “the U.S.’s secondlargest maker and distributor of still photographic equipment,” following the industry behemoth Eastman Kodak Company.
The end of the Roll
Those heady days were numbered, as the competition overseas was increasing. Japanese makers Nikon, Canon, Minolta, and Yashica began selling single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras to customers in the United States in the 1950s. In close-up photography, the new SLR cameras did not have the parallax problems that occurred when using range-finder cameras like the C3. Argus, which had become somewhat complacent after riding the wave of the C3’s popularity for years, was caught without an answer to Japanese competition.
In 1956, Argus announced that, effective January 1, 1957, it would become a wholly owned subsidiary of Sylvania Electric Products. Argus was sold again to Mansfield Industries in 1962, touching off a long and complicated history of sales and mergers that would see the Argus optics division split off from the rest of the company and the camera production moved out of state. By 1970, U.S.-made Argus cameras had largely disappeared from the marketplace. Rights to the Argus name were transferred or sold several times over the decades, but all efforts to bring it back as a retail product were short-lived.
Today, the former Argus building on West William Street in Ann Arbor houses the Argus Museum. The museum preserves the history of the proud Ann Arbor brand and offers a large archive of company literature for Argus enthusiasts and collectors. A
Deborah J. Larsen spent 34 years as the local history librarian at Mount Clemens Public Library. Now semiretired, she enjoys writing on historical topics.
The Big Wild Jimmy Carter in Michigan’s Pigeon River Country
By Dianna Stampfler
As an avid outdoorsman from childhood, one of Jimmy Carter’s favorite pastimes was to enjoy all that nature had to offer. After a canceled trip freed up the former president’s weekend, Carter journeyed up to the Pigeon River Country State Forest, seeking to finally capture a trophy that had long eluded him—the ruffed grouse. The hunt was successful, but more than that, Carter and his hunting crew left with a newfound appreciation for “The Big Wild” of Northern Michigan.
Above: Jimmy Carter and Ned Caveney. (Photo courtesy of Ned Caveney.)
Jimmy Carter made a handful of trips to Michigan, both before and after he served as the 39th President of the United States from January 20, 1977, to January 20, 1981, but one could surmise that his visit to “The Big Wild” of Northern Michigan in 1986 was his most down-to-earth visit.
James Earl “Jimmy” Carter Jr. was born on October 1, 1924, to Earl and Bessie “Lillian” Carter, peanut farmers living on the outskirts of Plains, Georgia. As a child, when he wasn’t working in the fields or helping at his father’s store, young Jimmy was exploring the nearby woods and waters around his home where he hunted, fished, and enjoyed the reflective solitude that nature provided. This outdoor lifestyle shaped Carter’s life as well as his political and social career, where he worked to further various conservation efforts.
October 1986 was a busy month for the former president, who celebrated his sixty-second birthday by dedicating the Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum in Atlanta, Georgia. Ten days later, at the request of longtime friend Jack Crockford, he boarded a commercial airplane bound for Michigan.
Carter’s hunting Partner
A native of Woodland, Michigan—a small agricultural town in northeastern Barry County— Crockford earned one of the first wildlife biology degrees from Michigan State University (MSU) in 1947 and was almost immediately hired by the Georgia Game and Fish Commission—now called the Wildlife Resources Division of the Department of Natural Resources (DNR). Crockford is credited with developing the “Cap-Chur”
tranquilizer dart gun, which is used to immobilize deer without killing them. The “flying syringe,” as it was also known, was a vital component of a deer restoration project that Crockford initiated in Georgia during the 1950s.
Working up the ranks over the years, Crockford was the Georgia DNR director from 1972 to 1978, overlapping the time Carter was the state’s seventy-sixth governor. A reputed craftsman of knives and muzzle-loaders, Crockford gifted a flintlock rifle to Carter, which hung in the Oval Office during his presidency.
In the late summer of 1986, Crockford invited Carter to join him on a grouse-hunting trip that fall in Northern Michigan’s Pigeon River Country State Forest. Established in 1919 with just 6,468 acres, that state forest has grown to over 105,000 acres, making it the largest block of contiguous undeveloped land in the Lower Peninsula. The annual ruffed grouse hunting season runs from September 15 through November 14, pauses for firearm deer season, and picks up again December 1 through January 1.
At first, Carter passed on the opportunity as he was scheduled to be in Japan, but when those plans were canceled, he called Crockford back and told him he was in for the trip.
Into “The Big Wild”
On Friday, October 10, 1986, Carter, Crockford, and their friend Don Carter—no relation to Jimmy Carter— flew into Detroit, Michigan, about six Secret Service agents and then drove 250 miles north along I-75 to Gaylord, Michigan, in two GMC Suburban station wagons. The first stop was the grocery store in
town. The visit was a surprise to almost everyone in the community, with only local police agencies and a few DNR staff in the know. After purchasing some groceries totaling $147, Carter stopped for a couple of photos and accepted an autographed copy of The Pigeon River Country by local author and former newspaper editor Dale Franz. The group was then off to Fred Snook’s Alphorn Sport Shop at 137 W. Main Street, where Carter provided his driver’s license and social security card to purchase a three-day small game license for $21.25 by credit card.
Traveling another 20 miles northeast, the group arrived at its destination in the Pigeon River Country State Forest in Vanderbilt, Michigan. They settled into the historic log cabins built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) along the banks of the Pigeon River. Ernest Hemingway, who referred to the area as the “Pine Barrens,” frequently trekked over from his family’s summer cottage
Jimmy Carter during his presidency. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, LC-DIG-gtfy-05543.)
on Walloon Lake to hunt and fish in the early 1900s.
Carter and company were greeted by 43-year-old Ned Caveney, who was the first area forester of the Pigeon River Country State Forest, hired in January 1974. Caveney had worked for the Michigan DNR since 1966 and began grouse hunting as a forestry student at MSU years before. His extensive knowledge of the local hunting landscape made him the perfect person to lead the group of dignitaries.
Caveney and Crockford had met in early 1977 at the Tall Timbers Research Station in Tallahassee, Florida. As grouse hunters in their respective states of residence, the two became friends. Caveney invited Crockford to the Pigeon River Country for his first Northern Michigan hunt in 1981. Crockford returned several times over the
years, which led him to join the trip with Carter.
That first night, Caveney introduced Carter and his entourage to the Pigeon River Country’s most distinguished residents: the elk.
From a bluff known as Inspiration Point, Caveney explained to the group that there were 1,200 elk within a 120,000-acre area in Northern Michigan—the largest free-range herd east of the Mississippi River. At one point, he called out and two bull elk returned the bugle. A Detroit Free Press article noted that about ten other cars were at the viewing site that evening, and one fellow visitor loaned Carter some binoculars for a better view. Caveney later noted the scrutiny by the chief of Carter’s Secret Service, who accompanied the group of hunters on the first day to ensure Carter’s safety, armed with a shoulder-holstered handgun.
On the hunt
Ruffed grouse live in 34 of the 49 continental states and in all Canadian provinces. They
Above: At the time of the hunt, Northern Michigan had the largest free-range elk herd east of the Mississippi River. (Photo courtesy of Pixabay/IndigoBunting.)
The modern Pigeon River Country Discovery Center, pictured here, was once a residence. Caveney and his family lived there during Carter’s visit. (Photo courtesy of the author.)
thrive in young aspen forests and brushlands, although in the absence of such, they will settle in oak, lowland brush, and dense stands of trees. Clear-cut logging also provides prime habitat with both cover and ample food sources. The Pigeon River Country is considered one of the prime grouse-hunting locales in Northern Michigan, drawing hunters from around the country.
“For the first morning’s hunt, I selected a secluded cover that required a little walk in the woods to reach,” wrote Caveney. “It was a favorite of mine for its near-perfect mix of good grouse habitat and clear evidence of the past, with charred pine stumps from the logging era and remnants of a failed farm.”
Carter recounted details of the trip in his 1988 memoir, An Outdoor Journal: Adventures and Reflections. “The first morning we followed either Jack’s small German shorthair or Ned’s female Brittany [spaniel] through choice grouse territory and had good luck finding the birds,” Carter recalled.
Carter also noted that the conditions were more challenging than he had anticipated. The abundance of aspen was expected, but he also encountered swamplands, scattered stands of thick pines, steep inclines and declines, and remnant logs and stumps from past timber clearing. “Usually we were able to move abreast, slowly, about thirty yards apart, listening carefully for the bell or electronic beeper on the dog’s collar that indicated its location, and always watching carefully for the grouse to flush. Without the beeper, it would have been very difficult to keep track of a bird dog in the dense forest.”
Despite less-than-ideal weather riddled with drizzling rain and cold temperatures, Carter wrote that the
group was “remarkably successful in finding birds” in what he called “some of the most desirable territory in our land.”
That afternoon, Caveney directed Carter and Crockford to an aspen stand in the southern part of the forest—an area he had watched being clear-cut a decade before. The move would prove to be a wise and successful one.
“A grouse flushed just to my right, offering me a very good shot. I took it, and the bird folded in a cloud of feathers,” Caveney wrote. “Immediately following, the president shot. I was not aware that two grouse had flushed, and I saw another grouse go down well off to his left. I was elated, for Jimmy Carter had just bagged his first ruffed grouse. Thankfully, Ruark [Caveney’s two-year-old
English pointer] was on that bird and quickly retrieved it to my hand. I proudly presented it to the president.”
Carter also recalled that first kill with great detail: “Abruptly, two grouse flushed off to my right, twenty yards away. I was quite startled but brought my 20-gauge over-under to my shoulder, swung with the leading bird, and squeezed the trigger. I wasn’t doubtful about that one; it would be my first success. The other circled left and began to disappear over the top of some small aspens. I snapped off another shot and saw the bird swoop down toward the ground, beyond the knoll. Before I could get there to see whether or not I had missed, our dog came trotting up with the second grouse in his mouth.”
Above and right: Woodcock (above) and ruffed grouse (right) are popular small game birds hunted in Northern Michigan. (Woodcock photo courtesy of Pixabay/ LTapsaH. Ruffed grouse photo courtesy of Pixabay/Alain Audet.)
Afterward, the group gathered to take pictures of Caveney, Carter, Ruark, and the coveted birds. At the five-room staff house that evening, the group dined on grouse, after which the former president did the dishes—earning him the nickname KP for “kitchen patrol.”
The next day was a Sunday, and Caveney changed locations for their hunt in an attempt to find more birds. The walk to the cover was long, but the new location proved to be successful. In just three hours, the group captured 14 grouse and 10 woodcocks.
Gordon Guyer, the newlyappointed director of the Michigan DNR, joined the group for a steak dinner that evening. Born in Kalamazoo and raised in Augusta, Michigan, Guyer received his
bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees in entomology from MSU and served as director of MSU Extension from 1973 to 1985 before landing at the DNR.
The post-dinner conversation turned to issues of conservation and natural resources. Carter was curious about, if not bothered by, the Michigan practice of baiting deer. During the drive up from Detroit, he had seen trucks loaded with carrots and apples on their way up to Northern Michigan hunting grounds. They also talked about what Carter claimed to be one of his most gratifying achievements— the signing of the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act into law on December 2, 1980—which also happened to be one of the last legislative acts he made law of the
land as president of the United States. The law set aside significant amounts of land in Alaska for preservation and conservation and more than doubled the acreage of the National Park system.
Monday morning afforded one last hunt. The group started out shortly after sunrise. Caveney noted they heard six grouse but took no shots and came back empty-handed. The accumulative bagged count for the weekend for the entire group was fifteen grouse.
Out of the Woods
“Despite the often meager results, severe weather conditions, and strenuous physical exertion, the beauty of the forest, companionship of other sportsmen, incredible
Above, from left to right: Jack Crockford’s son, Bill; Becky Torgler; Don Carter; Jimmy Carter; an unknown individual; Ned Caveney; and Jack Crockford. (Photo courtesy of the author.)
performances of highly trained hunting dogs, encounters with many kinds of wild game, and the contest of wits with this elusive bird all make me determined to try again—as often as I can,” Carter concluded of his Michigan trip.
Just days after the hunting group returned to Georgia, Caveney received a thank-you note from Carter, dated October 16, reading, “It was a real pleasure to be with you at Pigeon River. Thanks to you, Ruark, & Little Bit, we had an excellent hunt and your forests were delightful to visit. It’s gratifying to see the results of professional management.”
Nearly 40 years after his time with the president, Caveney happily recounts the experience when asked. For him, it was much more than just spending time with a former president; it was also about the mutual respect the group had for each other—the people, the dogs, the wildlife—and the conversation and camaraderie they
all shared in those moments in Pigeon River Country.
“The real story is about the woods, the wild place where the grouse live. The place where guns are fired, men still quest for sustenance from the Earth,” Caveney wrote. “I guess this is how you tell your grandkids about the woods through stories of people and maybe good dogs that were there with us. Like us, the woods are always changing, but at the heart, are always the same.”
While Carter never returned to Michigan forests, he remained an active
hunter until he was 94 years old. In 2019, he traveled to Columbus, Georgia, and bagged a wild turkey with Bill and Tyler Jordan from the show Realtree Outdoors.
Caveney, who still lives in Northern Michigan, retired from the DNR in 1998 after 31 years. He remains an active bird hunter and outdoorsman, serves on the board of the conservation organization Huron Pines, and was recognized by the Society of American Foresters for 50 years of membership in 2019. A Dianna Stampfler currently lives in Otsego County. She first discovered the Pigeon River Country in 2018 and was instantly fascinated with the stories of those who had explored the area before her—most notably former President Jimmy Carter.
Above: Caveney’s hunting log, showing when Carter and Crockford came to hunt grouse. (Photo courtesy of the author.)
Carter and Crockford in the Oval Office. The firearm on the wall was made by Crockford and gifted to Carter. (Photo courtesy of Bill Crockford.)
Power Play
Henry Ford and the Current Wars
By Brian McMahon
Henry Ford possessed a deep interest in electricity. His personal connections with two giants of the industry— Thomas Edison and Charles Steinmetz—led him to become entangled in their fierce competition over direct versus alternating current electricity. This rivalry had profound impacts on Ford’s work, life, and death.
Henry Ford had considerable handson experience with steam and gas engines, waterpower, electricity, hydroelectric power, and even wind power. He also had an interest in exploring theoretical options such as solar and tidal energy. His manufacturing enterprises were totally dependent on affordable energy: “We go to the coalfields, to the streams, and to the rivers,” he wrote, “always seeking some cheap and convenient source of power which we can transform into electricity, take to the machine, increase the output of the workers, raise their wages, and lower the price to the public.” He viewed power as more than a utilitarian tool, approaching it with a mystical reverence. He even once proposed that currency should be backed by units of power, believing it a far more worthy and durable standard.
Ford’s fascination with power began in his youth. A visit to a Detroit, Michigan, railroad roundhouse with his father inspired his experiments with steam power in his backyard using tea kettles. While a student, he dammed up a stream that ran next to his schoolhouse and built a working waterwheel—much to the amusement of his classmates. This achievement was of such importance to Ford that he later commissioned a painting by Irving Bacon, his “court painter,” to memorialize the occasion. Ford kept notebooks as a child, which included drawings of a turbine and a forge he had built and fired with coal that he found along railroad tracks.
Once, when he was about the age of 12 or 13, a huge steam traction engine came rumbling past his home. This moment left such an impression on the young Ford that he kept an enlarged picture of that
engine in his workshop where he could see it every day. Ford left home for Detroit and worked for various industrial plants, but he continued his experiments with power. He built a miniature turbine in the rear of his boarding house in 1882 and connected it to a faucet. The water pressure generated enough power to run a small lathe, which has been described as Ford’s first practical engine.
In that same year, a farmer who lived near Ford’s family home in Dearborn, Michigan, hired him to assemble and operate a Westinghouse steam tractor. His success with that and similar projects came to the attention of the Westinghouse Company, which
manufactured steam engines, farm equipment, factory machinery, and electrical equipment. The company hired Ford to travel around Michigan installing and servicing its machines. Ford also found time during the winter months in 1886 to set up a commercial sawmill on his father’s property using a gaspowered engine.
Sparking Innovation
Ford’s knowledge of steam and gas engines went hand-in-hand with his knowledge of power machinery and electricity. He found a position in 1891 as an engineer with the Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit, one of over 120 Edison
Above: The “Four Vagabonds” visit the waterwheel at Evans Mill in West Virginia in 1918. From left to right: Thomas Edison, John Burroughs, Henry Ford, and Harvey Firestone. Edison and Ford were both strong advocates for direct current (DC) power and longtime friends. (Photo courtesy of The Henry Ford.)
Left: Ford worked at the Edison Illuminating Company beginning in 1891. While there, he met Edison and built his first automobile. Today, visitors to Greenfield Village can see a scaled-down reproduction of the company’s Station A, where Ford worked. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-DIG-ppem-00415.)
powerhouses located in cities around the country to distribute direct current (DC) electricity. The company maintained 65,000 city streetlamps and furnished light to most Detroit residents who had electricity. Thomas Edison had significant ties to the state, having spent his formative years in Port Huron, Michigan. Ford was responsible for servicing the steam boilers and engines at their main powerhouse, a skill he learned mostly on his own. By 1893, he was working as a troubleshooter— available 24 hours a day—to keep the equipment running and the lights on. To compensate for his demanding work schedule, the Edison Illuminating Company permitted Ford to work on his quadricycle vehicle while on duty at the plant.
In 1896, Ford joined employees from other power stations at a national convention of the Association of Edison Illuminating Companies in New York City. During the evening’s banquet, attendees casually discussed the prospect for an electric car. Most people in the electrical industry at that time believed that cars would eventually be powered by electric batteries. The head of the Detroit Edison Company, Alex Dow, mentioned to Thomas Edison that Ford had been working on a gas—rather than electric—car. Edison had been working on a prototype electric vehicle for some time, but the project was on hold until he could invent a better storage battery. Upon hearing about Ford’s gas car, Edison expressed great interest. He invited Ford to sit next to him to explain his project. Ford quickly sketched his ideas, which excited Edison so much that he thumped the table and exclaimed, “Young man, that’s the thing! You have it . . . Keep at it!” At the close of the convention, Edison
Above: A postcard of Ford’s first car, the quadricycle, in Greenfield Village. (Photo courtesy of the Detroit Historical Society.)
Above: Model Ts roll down the assembly line at Ford’s DC-powered Highland Park plant, c. 1913. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-USZ62-97960.)
invited Ford to join him on the train ride back to New York City, where Edison reminisced about his early life in Michigan.
Ford never forgot Edison’s encouragement for his automotive experiments, but it would be another 16 years before they met again. Ford, now a famous and successful automobile manufacturer, visited Edison at his laboratory in West Orange, New Jersey, in 1912 to discuss the possibility of creating a storage battery which could combine a starter and a generator into one unit. As at their first meeting, Ford sketched out his ideas, prompting Edison to do the same. Ford later said that, after that reunion, Edison became a “touchstone of inspiration” to him.
A Protean Phenomenon
Charles Proteus Steinmetz was a mathematical genius, widely considered to be in the same league as Albert Einstein. He
developed mathematical formulas that made it easier to transmit alternating current electricity over long-distance power lines. This discovery was a key factor in ending the dominance of the DC system favored by Edison.
Steinmetz’s accomplishments were remarkable given his personal history. He was born in 1865 in Breslau, Germany, which is now the city of Wroclaw, Poland. He inherited a rare genetic disorder that resulted in a condition of dwarfism, hip dysplasia, and a pronounced spinal deformity. His mother died when he was one year old, leaving him to be raised largely by his Polish grandmother. Steinmetz excelled at school, studying the classics, mathematics, science, and electrical engineering. His classmates affectionately nicknamed him Proteus, after the Greek mythological figure who was a hunchback but had the ability to change his natural shape. Steinmetz attended the University at Breslau, where his political beliefs put him at odds with the ruling party of Otto
von Bismarck. Feeling threatened, he fled to Switzerland shortly before receiving his diploma.
In 1889, Steinmetz emigrated to the United States. Immigration officials hesitated to admit the unconventional-looking man who stood a little more than four feet tall and could not speak English. Fortunately, his travel companion could translate for him and vouch for Steinmetz’s scientific credentials and financial prospects. After gaining entry, Steinmetz applied for a position at the Edison Machine Works in New York City but was turned down. Within days, however, he found a job with the firm of Osterheld & Eickemeyer in Yonkers, New York, which manufactured electrical motors and equipment for streetcars and elevators. Rudolf Eickemeyer, a fellow German immigrant, was very interested in Steinmetz’s theoretical research. Steinmetz quickly learned English and became a citizen, formally adopting his nickname ‘Proteus’ as his middle name.
In 1892, Steinmetz delivered a paper on his theories of alternating current (AC) to the American Institute of Electrical Engineers. The news of Steinmetz’s research reached General Electric (GE), a company that had just been formed that year by the merger of several Edison companies and other entities. Edison would have little formal role in the new company, as he was bought out by investors. Edwin W. Rice Jr.—who would later become president of GE—was dispatched from the Schenectady, New York, headquarters to meet Steinmetz. Upon their meeting, Rice was startled by Steinmetz’s unusual appearance, but was quickly captivated by the man’s profound knowledge. Rice became convinced that Steinmetz was destined to render significant
Above: Henry Ford (left) and Thomas Edison (right). (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-USZ62-78939.)
contributions to the electrical industry. Shortly thereafter, GE acquired Osterheld & Eickenmeyer, its patents, and—most importantly— Steinmetz’s employment.
AC vs. DC
The DC system that Edison favored could not readily transmit electricity more than a mile beyond its power plants, but AC—made more versatile by Steinmetz’s research—could be carried along high-tension cables a considerable distance from the power plant. Westinghouse entered the electricity market, producing AC to compete with GE’s DC. By 1887, after only a year in the business, Westinghouse already had more than half as many generating stations as Edison.
A bitter competition erupted between the two companies from 1888 to 1890 in what became known as the “current wars,” or “battle of the systems.” Edison claimed that AC current was unsafe and sought to discredit Westinghouse by staging and filming the execution of animals—including a horse and an elephant—with AC current.
Westinghouse’s AC electrical system was greatly strengthened by the acquisition in 1888 of several patents of Nikola Tesla, a Serbian immigrant who briefly worked at
the company. Ironically, Tesla had previously worked at an Edison company, but had reportedly resigned because of a dispute over wages—and because Edison dismissed his research on AC as being “utterly impractical.”
In 1893, Westinghouse convincingly demonstrated the superiority of AC to the world by installing over 100,000 light bulbs at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. This was followed by the prestigious contract for the hydroelectric plant at Niagara Falls, New York, in 1895. Not until Edison departed from GE did the company fully embrace AC, ending the “war of the systems,” and opening the door for the company to partner with its former rival. Steinmetz, now at GE, was dispatched to Niagara Falls to design long-distance transmission lines to the city of Buffalo, New York.
For his part, Ford recognized that the mass production systems he wanted to build would need an innovative approach to power. He wrote, “The provision of a whole new system of electric generation emancipated industry from the leather belt and line shaft, for it eventually became possible to provide each tool with its own electric motor…. enabl[ing]
machinery to be arranged according to the sequence of the work, and that alone has probably doubled the efficiency of industry.” Ford’s Highland Park plant included 15,000 machines, which could not have been powered efficiently under the old belt and pulley system.
A Fatal Error
Unfortunately for Ford, he chose the losing side in the current wars. His admiration of Edison— who he called “the greatest man in the world”—coupled with his appreciation for Edison’s early encouragement, led Ford to install DC at most of his projects, including the Highland Park and River Rouge plants. That move proved extremely inefficient and costly, and eventually he had little choice but to convert to AC at a reported cost of $30 million—over $650 million today.
Seeking to decentralize his manufacturing operations, Ford built about 19 small plants along the Rouge and Huron Rivers. He built dams and created local hydroelectric powerhouses generating DC electricity. Perhaps Ford chose DC for his various facilities because he intended to generate his own power nearby and did not need long-distance transmission lines. This was part of his larger obsession to become completely self-sufficient in all his business dealings. Ironically, AC led to greater decentralization of industry because it could be transmitted more easily to rural areas, achieving one of Ford’s most cherished goals.
Ford also selected DC for his personal estate at Fair Lane. When he purchased the property in 1909, he consulted with a renowned hydraulic engineer and University of Michigan professor, Gardner Stewart Williams, who advised him that the neighboring Rouge
Henry Ford dammed the Rouge River to power his Fair Lane estate. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-DIG-ppem-00861.)
River was too shallow to generate hydroelectric power. Undeterred, Ford built a dam and designed his own hydroelectric system. He soon concluded that he needed a larger power plant, and brought in another hydroelectric expert, Mark A. Replogle, to aid with its design. However, by the time Fair Lane was completed in 1915, AC current had become the universal standard. The electrical fixtures Ford purchased for his home—including lamps, radios, and toasters—had to be adapted for AC power at great expense.
Steinmetz and Edison had a pleasant relationship despite their opposing views on the electrical current wars and their occasional competitive business activities. Ford reportedly visited Steinmetz at his Schenectady home to discuss some problems the company was having with headlights for the Model T and was surprised to be interrupted by Steinmetz’s adoptive grandchildren, who wanted him to read bedtime stories. Over the next decade, Ford and Steinmetz
corresponded on matters large and small, ranging from their shared interest in the science fiction of H.G. Wells to Henry Ford’s invitation to join him on his 1915 “Peace Ship” mission to Europe.
When Steinmetz died suddenly in 1923, Ford chose to remember him the way he did with other people he admired—by collecting buildings and artifacts associated with him and moving them to Greenfield Village. He acquired Steinmetz’s cabin, which overlooked the Mohawk River in New York and where Steinmetz often did his critical thinking. He also moved portions of Edison’s Menlo Park Laboratory from New Jersey to Greenfield Village for reconstruction. Perhaps the harmonious placement of the two buildings was Ford’s way to bring closure to the costly current wars. Ford also managed to track down, with extraordinary effort, the actual Westinghouse steam engine he had serviced as a young man and transported it to the Edison Institute Museum (later the
Henry Ford Museum) at Greenfield Village, along with several other important Westinghouse artifacts. In a final gesture of respect and remembrance for Steinmetz, Ford traveled to the GE headquarters at Schenectady in 1936 to spend time in Steinmetz’s preserved office.
Henry Ford retained DC at Fair Lane until the very end. When Ford fell seriously ill, the Rouge River experienced an unprecedented, catastrophic flood, which knocked out Ford’s hydropower plant and backup systems. In his final moments, Henry Ford had no access to the AC energy grid, which would likely have enabled him to summon help. The man who spent much of his life mastering the energy revolution died in 1947 in a dark house that was lit only by kerosene lamps and candles. A
Brian McMahon is a trained architect who has written over 40 articles on historic architecture, industry, and urban planning, as well as an award-winning book, The Ford Century in Minnesota, published by the University of Minnesota Press.
Outside of Edison Illuminating Company’s Station A in Detroit, seven workers pose with new machinery to be installed in the building. Henry Ford is third from the left.
(Photo courtesy of the Detroit Historical Society.)
Above: Charles Proteus Steinmetz. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-DIG-ggbain-19864.)
Heroism and Horror
Press Coverage of the Bath School Disaster
By Amie M. Jones
“Probably never in local history has a neighbor’s plight so affected Lansing’s very soul.”
Lansing State Journal, May 19, 1927
The Bath School disaster in Bath Township, Michigan, remains the deadliest act of school violence in United States history, yet most Americans have never heard of this tragedy—or of its perpetrator, Andrew Kehoe. The massacre, while remembered by Bath residents, is largely overlooked by modern American mass media.
In 1927, Andrew Philip Kehoe a farmer, handyman, school board treasurer, and former Bath Township clerk—planted explosives in the Bath Consolidated School over a period of several weeks. He placed more than 600 pounds of dynamite in the floors of classrooms and basement crawl spaces, all wired via alarm clocks to erupt at 8:45 a.m. CST—a time when approximately 236 children and adults were present in the school. Sometime between May 16 and May 18, he murdered his wife, Nellie Price Kehoe. Then, in the early morning hours of May 18, he tied her body to a cart and placed her in one of the farm’s buildings. He then blew up their farm, home, and livestock and drove his dynamite-and-shrapnel-loaded Ford pickup to the school to view the carnage.
Upon arrival, he saw his plan was only partially successful. A short in the electrical wiring had spared the entire south wing. He yelled to the superintendent of the school, Emory Huyck—a man he despised—to come over to his truck. After a brief conversation with Huyck, Kehoe fired his rifle into the back seat, exploding his truck and killing himself, Huyck, and three others, including 8-year-old Cleo Clayton, who had managed to survive the initial blast. The final count was 44 killed, including 38 children, and an additional 58 injured. The majority of the dead and injured were children under the age of 12.
Public Perspective
The turn of the century ushered in a major change in news reporting. In American newspapers from 1899 to 1923, editorials, letters to the editor, and society coverage all declined significantly, while sports and crime reporting greatly increased. At the same time, there was a boom in both advertising and illustration. Newspapers exclaimed sensational stories of crime, “talking picture” celebrities, and athletes such as Babe Ruth. Beginning in 1920, news filtered straight into American homes courtesy of a new medium—radio.
The location of a news outlet is a key factor in determining the level and nature of coverage produced in response to a tragedy. It influences the way the story is told, which themes are emphasized, and the influence
that media outlets have within their own communities. It is no surprise, then, that the newspapers located closest to Bath granted the story the most attention. While national newspapers did indeed cover the Bath disaster, coverage was far lower in volume, as well as less detailed. In the week following, there were just 19 articles in national newspapers such as The New York Times and The Washington Post. Nearby newspapers, however, published 174 articles related to the bombings in Bath.
Local newspapers presented stories of the brave and selfless—tales of heroism during the rescue work in Bath. The day after the disaster, the Lansing State Journal stated on its front page, “Two impressions will never be erased—the fiendish cruelty of the man who sent little children to their doom, and the nobility with
Above: An aerial view of the school following the explosion.
The school before the disaster. (All photos courtesy of the Bath School Museum, unless otherwise noted.)
which rescuers labored unceasingly to give aid to the stricken.” The articles highlighted individuals who showed bravery during rescue work or the kindness and philanthropy that helped the community heal in the wake of the tragedy. Those heroes included teachers, police officers, doctors, nurses, firefighters, housewives, construction workers, plant employees, power linemen, farmers, mechanics, cadets from Michigan State University, a governor, a senator, and a plumber.
As reported in the Lansing State Journal, the community coming to the aid of the township was swift and immediate. The first outside witnesses to the scene were also the first responders—linemen for Consumers Power Company were constructing new power lines right outside of the school when the blast occurred. They rushed over and began pulling the dead and injured out from the rubble. The initial explosion was heard from at least six miles away, and farmers hurried over to see the cause of the blast and aid in the rescue efforts.
Five construction companies in nearby Lansing, Michigan, called men off jobs and instructed them to get to the school to begin assisting the rescue. Employees of Olds Motor Works, the Fisher Body plant, and the REO
Motor Car company were sent by bus to Bath. Sadly, the children of three Fisher Body plant employees had perished. The Barker Fowler Electric Company sent additional lighting in preparation for nightfall, and the Michigan Bell Telephone Company rushed to the scene and installed additional communication lines. Rescue work was prolonged and strenuous, and the women of Bath assisted by preparing coffee and sandwiches for the hundreds of working men. Volunteers established 30-minute shifts, with some assigned to pulling out timbers and others to digging deeper into debris.
The press emphasized that there was likely not even one member of the small township who did not help in some way. The Toledo Blade remarked, “It is safe to say that every resident of Bath is an unsung hero. Many of them piloted cars at breakneck speed over gravel roads to Lansing with every minute meaning life or death to a bleeding little passenger in the rear seat. Others braved falling bricks and timber to rescue children trapped beneath a mass of wreckage.” The Lansing Capital News reported that the action of Bath residents to speedily get as many as possible to Lansing hospitals helped the outcome of many of the injured children. As of Tuesday, May 24, 1927, the majority of the 32 hospitalized
The Bath community gathers around the scene of the bombing.
children were reported to be doing well, with many due to be released by the end of the week. Even among the most critically injured, no one had relapsed.
Some hailed as heroes by the press did not survive. An article titled “Find Teacher Died Heroine” in the Lansing State Journal detailed the sacrifice of one schoolteacher. When extricated from the school ruins, the body of teacher Hazel Weatherby revealed that she died trying to save the lives of two of her students. Weatherby’s body was found in an upright position, with the still body of a child under each arm. She was making a desperate attempt to shield as many students as possible from the falling bricks and beams. The hands of the children were still gripped tightly to her dress.
Under the headline “One-Armed Plumber Among Blast Heroes,” the Lansing State Journal published a photograph of George Harrington, who was working on the boiler in the basement of the south wing at the time of the first blast. After running upstairs and helping children out of the south building, Harrington ran to the wrecked north wing to see how he could help. He rushed to hold a door open for teacher Bernice Sterling so she could carry her children to safety. Harrington told the newspaper, “The children were moaning and screaming, and it was almost enough to make a strong man faint. I saw some of the boys, and I did everything I could, but I could not stand it long. If I had known there were two or three bushels of dynamite right over my head in the basement, I think I would have dropped dead.”
In addition to pointing out heroes, newspapers also discussed the seemingly miraculous events of that day, not the least of which was that Kehoe’s plan—though horrific and deadly—was largely unsuccessful. Kehoe was an educated man who had worked for years as an electrician, and he had thoroughly wired the entire building for complete annihilation. However, on the day of the disaster, 504 pounds of dynamite and pyrotol failed to explode in the south wing of the school. Investigators found the dynamite in cleverly concealed holes in basement walls, behind rafters, and even in small cubby holes designed to store books. Kehoe had connected alarm clocks—which were the impetus for the explosions—as well as hotshot batteries and wiring to the dynamite. The wires were soldered and the dynamite was tamped so expertly that, initially, investigators were sure that it was the work of multiple people.
Kehoe had driven to the school expecting to see the entire building razed and all its occupants dead. Only a short circuit in the wires leading to the south wing saved many of those children and teachers from certain
As The Toledo Blade pointed out, “It is considered nothing short of a miracle that these hundreds of pounds of dynamite did not explode.” The Lansing State Journal stated that, “How any living being inside the walls escaped appears to be a miracle.” The Los Angeles Times reported that, after the disaster, small crowds gathered on Bath’s streets to talk in hushed voices about what had happened—and how much worse it could have been.
Questions of Characterization
The fact that jury members at the official inquest deemed Kehoe “sane at all times” during the undertaking of his “pre-meditated and deliberate plan” did little to deter newspapers from calling him a maniac. This moniker was splashed across headlines from coast to coast. Newspapers painted a picture of a crazed man, a demented farmer whose hatred
death.
Above: One of the explosive devices used by Kehoe to destroy his farm. Top: The cupola that adorned the school now rests where the building once stood. (Photos courtesy of the author.)
of high taxes and stress over finances drove him to insanity. Newspapers wasted no time in declaring Kehoe mentally unstable. On the day of the tragedy, the front page of The New York Times exclaimed, “Maniac Blows up School, Kills 42, Mostly Children.” Similarly, The Washington Post on May 19 stated in bold, “38 Die by Blast as Insane Farmer Dynamites School.” Closer to Bath, The Clinton County Republican-News headlined, “Andrew P. Kehoe, Demented Farmer, Transforms Whole Community into Vast Morgue and Hospital.”
The nearby Ingham County News took a more logical approach, declaring Kehoe diabolical, but certainly not maniacal. The newspaper pointed out that his intricate planning exhibited the practical steps of a well-plotted scheme. “Calm and collected, the killer went about his work as a careful man in any momentous undertaking would proceed,” it said.
From a practical standpoint, newspapers did not know how to define Kehoe’s crime. Today, we are familiar with “suicide bombers” and “school shooters,” but in 1927, Kehoe’s crime was the first of its kind in the United States. The Lansing State Journal stated that, because his crime was so unique to modern times, “No descriptive word has as yet been evolved which would indicate the character and quality of the act, if a similar one is ever perpetrated.” A member of the
newspaper’s staff decided then to coin the noun “kehoe” to describe a person who maliciously destroys someone or something using explosives.
Competing headlines
Two days after the Bath bombings, on May 20, 1927, Charles Lindbergh took flight in his Spirit of Saint Louis airplane from Roosevelt Field in New York. He arrived at Le Bourget Field near Paris on May 21, completing his solo journey in 33 1/2 hours. Upon landing, he became an instant global celebrity. The Bath disaster began to share newspaper headlines with Lindbergh’s historic flight—quite the uneasy juxtaposition of both the grandeur and the horror of what a single, determined man can accomplish when he sets his sight on a goal.
The front pages of the nation’s major newspapers portrayed the Bath story on Thursday, May 19, 1927. On Friday, May 20, with exuberance and fanfare, radio and newspapers proclaimed Lindbergh’s departure into the mysterious unknown. On Saturday morning, May 21, some newspapers turned their attention back to Bath, as residents began the heartbreaking process of burying so many children in one agonizing weekend. On Sunday, the nation’s attention was diverted back to Lindbergh, who had safely arrived near Paris, France, landing to
Above: The school’s collapsed wing and roof. Left: The aftermath of Kehoe firing his shotgun and exploding the dynamite in the back seat of his vehicle.
a hero’s grand welcome of more than 25,000 French citizens. The emotional flip-flop continued as the papers returned to reporting the Bath disaster, but at a fizzling pace. The front pages of Monday’s newspapers featured stories of the third and final day of burials, but this was limited to newspapers closest to Bath. Later in the week, nearly all national newspapers stopped discussing the Bath disaster altogether. On all but two days in the six-week period following May 19, 1927, The New York Times featured a lead story involving aviation. The wider world had become consumed by Lindbergh’s monumental flight. It was a tale of simultaneity—two newsworthy events occurring in the same week. One was admirable and laudable, the other horrific and deplorable. For a few days in the late spring of 1927, the two shared the spotlight of the press’s publicity machine. One was destined to become a shining beacon of the past and the other for the doldrums of historical darkness. The Bath Consolidated School disaster is so faintly remembered by the general American public that modern school tragedies—such as the 1999 shooting at Columbine High School and at Virginia Tech in 2007—were often erroneously deemed in the press at the times of their occurrences as the deadliest school massacres in U.S.
Top: Medical personnel administer aid to the injured. Above: Volunteer workers surround the dynamite which remained unexploded due to an electrical short circuit in the school’s south wing.
history. On a collective level, the tragedy has managed to be almost completely glossed over in the memory of the American public. At the same time, the attention given to school shootings today has given the Bath disaster a newfound relevance.
It would be easy to attribute the event being forgotten to the media’s all-consuming coverage of Lindbergh’s flight, but that is not the full story. The reasons why the
disaster was collectively forgotten are complex and multifaceted, and not all possible explanations relate to media coverage. However, the era in which the disaster occurred plays a part, and journalism, being a product of time and place, works to fulfill the needs of the unique public that it serves. Journalists’ conception of what was newsworthy to the American public—in crime or otherwise— differed in 1927 compared to today. Newspapers clearly deemed the Bath disaster newsworthy, yet coverage was fleeting. The fact that Lindbergh’s venturesome story soon reigned supreme across all national media implies that the needs and wants of the public then were more aligned with that story—one of hope, heroism, technological advancement, and human and American triumph. The Bath bombings fell more to the opposite end of this spectrum, and perhaps better served the public by being shared and quickly filed away.
The disaster—while also generating feats of heroism— did not fit neatly into cultural beliefs at the time. There was no preceding press narrative for school shootings or bombings. It was an anomaly and was given the press treatment that seemed fitting for something so odd and impermanent. Ultimately, mass media’s lack of ongoing interest in the Bath disaster, coupled with disaster survivors’ preference for silence, caused the tragedy to fade from national public discussion. As the months and years passed, it faded from collective memory as well. A
Amie M. Jones holds a Ph.D. in journalism and mass communication and is the author of The Forgotten Children of Bath: Media and Memory of the Bath School Bombing of 1927.
Top: The wreckage of the school. Above: Women pull nails from the wreckage.
The Birth of Michigan’s Civil Rights Commission Creation at Con-Con
By Lynn Liberato
Michigan’s constitution contains something that no other state’s constitution does: a civil rights commission. With the aim to protect the rights of all citizens no matter their religion, race, color, or national origin, the state’s civil rights commission came to be through conflict, collaboration, and compromise during the 1961-1962 Constitutional Convention.
It has been 60 years since the Michigan Civil Rights Commission came into existence. As notable as that is, how the commission was created is an equally noteworthy story. When delegates to Michigan’s fifth constitutional convention (Con-Con) created the commission in 1962, it marked the first time such a commission was enshrined in a state constitution. Other state civil rights commissions were created statutorily—by their legislatures. Today, Michigan remains the only state to have constitutionalized its civil rights commission. So, why did Michigan take the constitutional route rather than the statutory route? The answer was simple—the statutory route wasn’t working. An obstructionist Michigan Legislature had blocked key Civil Rights bills for years. Most of the Black delegates elected
Above, background: Photo of the Michigan Capitol by David Marvin.
Above, inset: Newly-elected Governor Romney with the 1963 Michigan Constitution. (All photos courtesy of the Michigan State Capitol Collection, unless otherwise noted.)
to Con-Con had campaigned on a platform of Civil Rights, and they hoped to succeed where the legislature had failed.
Con-Con presented a unique opportunity. In 1961, Michigan voted to hold a convention to revise and improve the current constitution. The last convention had occurred in 1907, and that constitution had been amended 69 times in the years since. To recreate the state’s foremost governing document, 144 elected delegates arrived at the Civic Center in Lansing, Michigan. During the eight-month-long convention from 1961 to 1962, the delegates were assigned to various committees to work on different sections of the constitution.
Though not a Con-Con delegate, Albert Wheeler had a significant impact on the creation of the civil rights commission.
Three of the leaders in the effort to create the civil rights commission went on to achieve prominence after Con-Con ended. Coleman Young became Detroit’s first Black mayor, as well as its longest-serving one. Richard Austin became Michigan’s first Black Secretary of State. Daisy Elliott served as a state representative for 18 years and co-sponsored the historic Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act. In 2020, Governor Gretchen Whitmer renamed the Lewis Cass building in downtown Lansing the ElliottLarsen Building, making it the first state office building in Michigan to be named after an African-American woman. Many other Con-Con delegates—Black, white, Democrat, and Republican—also played important roles in creating the commission. However, the person most deserving of credit was not a delegate at all—Dr. Albert Wheeler, an associate professor of bacteriology at the University of Michigan and co-founder of the Ann Arbor NAACP. Wheeler would later become Ann Arbor’s first and only Black mayor.
an Idea Takes shape
Wheeler was, in many ways, the father of Michigan’s civil rights commission. Wheeler not only provided ConCon delegates with the blueprint for the commission, he sparked a “commission consciousness” and provided strong arguments on why the constitution should include the commission.
In the beginning, Wheeler seemed somewhat quixotic to many. The Coordinating Council on Civil Rights Steering Committee was not impressed by his proposal to create a civil rights commission when Wheeler appeared before the committee shortly after Con-Con began. They feared that efforts to secure civil rights legislation might be hindered if Con-Con failed
Before Coleman Young became the first Black mayor of Detroit, he was a delegate at Con-Con, working to create a civil rights commission.
to create the commission. The Council seemed more interested in its own civil rights proposal than in Wheeler’s. Two of the Black Con-Con delegates present that evening, Sidney Barthwell and the Reverend Malcolm Dade, were also concerned about the proposal’s statutory and legislative nature.
Con-Con delegate and steering committee member Lillian Hatcher saw merit in Wheeler’s proposal,
however, and urged him to introduce it. Wheeler later asked Hatcher to introduce his proposal to the convention. Hatcher enlisted other Black delegates to cosponsor it. On December 5, 1961, Hatcher, Elliott, Young, Reverend Malcolm Dade, Edward Douglas, and Raymond Murphy offered Delegate Proposal 1522, a proposal to create a state civil rights commission to effectuate rights guaranteed under Article II. The same delegates, minus Douglas, offered Delegate Proposal 1523, which spelled out the concept of the commission, including its makeup, duties, and powers. Under Delegate Proposal 1523, the commission would be selfexecuting—meaning that it would automatically be created by the Constitution.
Finding a Place
The Declaration of Rights article in the Michigan Constitution was the logical place to create a civil rights commission, as the commission would be tasked with the responsibility of investigating discrimination complaints and enforcing civil rights. Declaration of Rights Committee chairman James Pollock, however, did not feel that a civil rights commission belonged in the Constitution. Like many other delegates, he considered a civil rights commission statutory in nature and thought that the legislature should create it. Pollock’s argument seemed rather disingenuous considering he was instrumental in getting the civil service commission created in the Constitution—a commission that was created to prevent job discrimination. Pollock chaired the Michigan Civil Service Study Commission in 1935 and was considered by many to be the father of Michigan’s Civil Service Commission.
Wheeler wisely argued that the commission could be created in either the Constitution’s Declaration of Rights or Executive Branch article. After all, the constitution’s Executive Branch article had established the civil service commission.
Executive Branch Committee Chairman John Martin proved much more receptive to Wheeler and allowed him to testify before his committee. Martin also referred the matter to Alvin Bentley’s subcommittee on executive reorganization for further study and report back to the whole committee. As luck would have it, Elliott and Hart—both backers of Delegate Proposal 1569—numbered among those subcommittee members. The subcommittee recommended an amendment to Executive Branch Committee Proposal 71 to create a state civil rights commission, which the full Executive Branch Committee adopted unanimously.
The next day, Democrats Tom Downs, William Greene, Adelaide Hart, William Marshall, and Harold Norris joined Hatcher, Elliott, Murphy, and Young and offered a third, slightly different proposal to create a civil rights commission. Delegate Proposal 1569 spelled out the makeup, duties, and powers of the commission, but left it to the legislature to create the commission. All three proposals were referred to the Executive Branch Committee.
Wheeler begrudgingly acknowledged that the proposed amendment was a foot in the door, but thought it had several fundamental weaknesses. Young agreed. In a March 7, 1962, letter to Wheeler, Young complained that the amendment fell short of what he and Wheeler had envisioned and requested. Like Wheeler, Young was concerned that the proposed amendment did not specifically set up a commission or spell out its rules and prerogatives. In his March 15 response to Young, Wheeler urged Young not to accept the weak proposal. Rather, Wheeler advised him to rally other delegates to pressure the Republican and
Left: Daisy Elliott, pictured here at the House rostrum in the Capitol, was a major actor in getting the civil rights commission in the 1963 Constitution.
Democratic leadership to write a stronger commission into the constitution.
Wheeler feared that Republican delegates would use Con-Con—and particularly the civil rights commission—to bolster the platform of their preferred gubernatorial candidate, Con-Con vice president George Romney. However, Romney strongly supported the commission.
Wheeler was also skeptical of Black delegates who might settle for an ineffective commission in order to further their own political ambitions. He warned Con-Con’s Black delegation that he would utilize Detroit and Black newspapers and magazines to publicly challenge any Black delegate who might “sell out.” Wheeler wrote Young, “I have no more sympathy and respect for Negro leadership that will subvert the interests of the majority for its own personal and political advantage than for white politicians who do the same.” He ended his letter by thanking Young for keeping him advised. He also expressed his hope that Young would rally support for a stronger civil rights commission that would spell out the most concerning areas of discrimination— education, employment, housing, and public accommodations. Answering that call, Young and delegates like Austin and Elliott continued fighting for a strong commission.
Reaching a Compromise
On March 28, a committee proposal to create a state civil rights commission was finally introduced to the entire convention. Executive Branch Committee chairman John Martin offered the proposal as a new section “i” to Committee Proposal 71: “Sec. i. Within 2 years after the adoption of this constitution, the legislature shall establish a civil rights commission within the executive branch to secure the protection of the civil rights guaranteed by this constitution. In the event the legislature does not establish a civil rights commission during this period, the governor under the provisions of this paragraph shall by executive order establish such a commission.”
Long and heated debate ensued on the convention floor after the proposal’s introduction. The
statutory-versus-constitutional argument aside, many delegates feared that the commission could have overreaching powers and that it could cause, as well as prevent, discrimination. One delegate feared a quasi-legislative administrative board that would serve as both prosecutor and jury. Attorney-delegate Ann Donnelly expressed such fears when she warned that all the commission needed was “one McCarthy.” Donnelly drew the wrath of Black delegates like Elliott and Young when she introduced an amendment that would allow either party to go to court without first having to exhaust their remedies through the commission.
Numerous amendments were offered throughout the long hours of debate. Austin, Elliott, Young, and
Con-Con took place in Lansing’s Civic Center, pictured here c. 1980s.
President Dwight Eisenhower speaks to all of the Con-Con delegates at the Civic Center.
The Michigan Capitol building. (Photocourtesy of the Michigan State Capitol Commission/ David Marvin.)
three other Democrats offered an amendment that most strongly reflected Wheeler’s vision of a strong commission. The “Austin amendment” enlarged the commission’s membership and set forth in greater detail the commission’s duties and powers. It spelled out the four main areas of discrimination—employment, education, housing, and public accommodations—that Wheeler and other commission proponents insisted on including. It also gave the civil rights commission the power to establish rules and regulations, hold hearings, and administer oaths.
In the end, the constitution created a much weaker commission than Wheeler and many Con-Con delegates desired. For this and other reasons, Democrats, the Michigan Conference of NAACP branches, and 12 of the 13 Black delegates opposed the proposed new constitution. Elliott felt the bad outweighed the good. She thought that the final product “emasculated” civil rights and failed to provide meaningful civil rights protections. Her Michigan Chronicle article warned that voting for the new constitution would be a tragedy.
On April 1, 1963, voters narrowly ratified the new constitution, enshrining the civil rights commission in Michigan’s highest law. It appears in Article V, Section 29 of the Executive Branch article of the 1963 Michigan Constitution:
“Sec. 29. There is hereby established a civil rights commission which shall consist of eight persons, not more than four of whom shall be members of the same political party, who shall be appointed by the governor, by and with the advice and consent of the senate, for
four-year terms not more than two of which shall expire in the same year. It shall be the duty of the commission in a manner which may be prescribed by law to investigate alleged discrimination against any person because of religion, race, color or national origin in the enjoyment of the civil rights guaranteed by law and by this constitution, and to secure the equal protection of such civil rights without such discrimination. The legislature shall provide an annual appropriation for the effective operation of the commission.
The commission shall have the power, in accordance with the provisions of this constitution and of general laws governing administrative agencies, to promulgate rules and regulations for its own procedures, to hold hearings, administer oaths, through court authorization to require the attendance of witnesses and the submission of records, to take testimony, and to issue appropriate orders. The commission shall have other powers provided by law to carry out its purposes. Nothing contained in this section shall be construed to diminish the right of any party to direct and immediate legal or equitable remedies in the courts of this state.
Appeals from final orders of the commission, including cease and desist orders and refusals to issue complaints, shall be tried de novo before the circuit court having jurisdiction provided by law."
The 1963 Constitution, now 61 years old, has endured longer than any of Michigan’s preceding three constitutions. Voters have amended it over 30 times, but the civil rights commission remains as a key element of the state’s fundamental document. Michigan citizens will have their next opportunity to vote for a constitutional convention in 2026. A
Lynn Liberato is a retired attorney, writer, and historian. Her interest in Con-Con began when her father was elected as a delegate to the 1961-1962 Michigan Constitutional Convention.
Polar Bears and POWs
Decades of History at Fort Custer
By Barry Levine
Fort Custer has played an integral role in America’s defense for more than a century. The military training facility—parts of which became a veterans hospital and a national cemetery—has undergone many changes throughout the years and was heavily involved in the United States’ preparation for global conflicts from World War I through the Cold War.
Above: Colorized souvenir postcards of Camp Custer trainees exercising, saluting, and dining in the mess hall. (Allphotoscourtesy of the Willard Public Library, unless otherwise noted.)
Fort Custer’s story began in the early twentieth century, when the federal government planned to build a training facility between Battle Creek, Michigan, and Kalamazoo, Michigan, for incoming soldiers from Michigan and Wisconsin. Battle Creek’s Chamber of Commerce and other organizations lobbied for land acquisition and building construction ahead of World War I. Although some community members voiced concerns about dispossessing local property owners, construction on Camp Custer was soon underway. The fort was named for nineteenth-century army officer General George Custer, who spent part of his life in Monroe, Michigan. Shortly after the United States declared war in April of 1917, the camp became one of sixteen military districts built to support the war effort. Major Earl Morden led the construction, overseeing the building of more than 1,000 structures within six months. One measure of the project’s enormity was the use of more than 46 million board feet of lumber.
From Farm to Front
Promotional literature proudly presented the camp as a “national university that takes the young men from the farm, the shop, and the office and in a few short months graduates soldiers, trained and equipped, ready to fight the battles of democracy.” Although that description may contain a touch of hyperbole, more than 90,000 soldiers trained there for service in the “Great War.” In addition to traditional “boot camp” drills, their instruction included gasmask training in preparation for the ongoing chemical warfare in Europe. The camp also boarded and
trained thousands of horses and mules for warfare. Soldiers and their families often had serious concerns about the dangers of fighting in a foreign war. The press coverage, however, was nothing but positive. Local newspapers often ran stories about brave young men who left their homes for military service at Camp Custer.
World War I and the spanish Flu
Many recruits were assigned to the 85th division, which became known as the Custer Division. Those soldiers arrived in Liverpool, England, in early August of 1918. After transporting to France, the division provided 20,000 replacement troops to other Western Front units. Field Artillery, Field Signal, and Engineers from the 85th saw action in battles such as Meuse-Argonne—the largest U.S. military campaign up to that time— which helped end World War I.
The 85th Division troops, including more than 5,000 members of the 339th Infantry, also fought the Bolsheviks in the Russian Civil War. Known as “Detroit’s Own,” the 339th largely comprised men from southeast Michigan. In addition to infantrymen, the army sent engineers, a field hospital team, and an ambulance company to Russia. The first battle between the Americans and Bolsheviks was on November 11, 1918—Armistice Day. In a campaign later referred to as the “Polar Bear Expedition,” Detroit’s Own dealt with brutal winter conditions while deployed just below the Arctic Circle in Archangel, Russia. The troops were ultimately recalled by President
Above: World War I soldiers are reviewed at the camp.
Recruits from the first day of the 1917 draft arrive at Camp Custer.
Woodrow Wilson and arrived at Michigan Central Station in July 1919, followed a few days later by a parade at Belle Isle. Michigan suffered more than 5,000 casualties during the war. Those who survived the dangers of combat soon faced further peril— the Spanish flu epidemic. The highly contagious disease took a heavy toll worldwide. On September 29, 1918, there were no reported cases at Camp Custer, but by the next day, hundreds were afflicted. Camp Commander Brigadier General Howard Laubach quickly enacted quarantine protocols such as closing communal gathering places, curtailing drills, and increasing the number of guards around the camp. Medical staff were overwhelmed and lacked sufficient resources to fight the scourge.
After the war, Camp Custer hosted the Officer Reserve and Civilian Conservation Corps. By the late 1930s, the camp accelerated war preparations as hostilities loomed overseas. Additional land was acquired, expanding the base to about 22 square miles.
In 1923, the camp transferred 675 acres to the Veterans Bureau, the forerunner of the Veterans Administration (VA). In 1924, the Battle Creek Veterans Hospital was built. The VA hospital treated the needs of veterans struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and, later, health issues caused by the defoliant Agent Orange, among many other ailments. VA staff included Michigan Aviation Hall of Fame inductee Sidney Adams, who taught rehabilitation skills to veterans for 34 years.
World War II at the Fort
In August 1940, Camp Custer was officially renamed Fort Custer. The military modernized the fort with new construction and updated existing structures with 800 new buildings, a water and sewage system, electrical, roads, ammunition storage, and other facilities. The scale of the expansion was comparable to the size of the city of Monroe, which was home to about 20,000 residents at the time.
The United States revoked its neutral stance in the war after Japanese forces attacked the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. On December 8, President Roosevelt requested, and the Congress quickly approved, a Declaration of War against Japan. A similar declaration against Germany was approved several days later. Anyone found on base without proper identification was arrested. The military rapidly grew after the United States entered World War II. Fort Custer became the reception center for Michigan’s Lower Peninsula inductees, with an estimated 300,000 service members beginning their military careers on base.
Above: The depot brigade recruit camp, pictured here in 1918, included nearly 1500 tents. Below: A panoramic photograph of Camp Custer in 1918. (Photos courtesy of Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, 2007664159 and 2007664116.)
The VA hospital at Fort Custer.
Some new soldiers stayed at the fort to complete basic training, while others transferred elsewhere. At a minimum, troop members— including Detroit Tigers star Hank Greenberg—remained on-site for several days for physical exams and skill assessments. Instruction covered numerous military functions. Women’s Army Corps recruits, for example, studied specialties such as dispatching aircraft, mapmaking, and supply functions.
Racial segregation was common practice at Fort Custer, as it was throughout the U.S. military. The 184th Field Artillery was entirely composed of African-American personnel who were restricted to segregated barracks and mess halls. The base maintained this discriminatory policy until 1954, despite President Truman’s 1948 desegregation orders for the military.
One of the fort’s best-known units was the 5th Infantry Division, which was sent to Europe and fought on the beaches of Normandy, France,
as a
for German prisoners of
and the Battle of the Bulge. The 5th Division soldiers received two Distinguished Unit Citations for gallantry under hazardous conditions. Private Harold Garman, a medic who trained at Fort Custer in 1941, received a Medal of Honor in 1944 for action in France while serving in the 5th. Garman helped evacuate wounded troops on the Seine River while under enemy fire. The medal’s citation noted, “[Garman’s] heroism not only saved the lives of the three patients but so inspired his comrades that additional assault boats were immediately procured, and the evacuation of the wounded resumed.”
german POW Camp
As the Allies moved closer to victory, thousands of Germans were captured. Of those prisoners, 5,000 were transported to Fort Custer. German prisoners of war (POWs) were often assigned labor jobs such as crop harvesting, as millions of American men and women were in military service or working in defense industries. POWs were paid about eighty cents a day to purchase items such as cigarettes, ice cream, and limited amounts of beer at ten cents a bottle.
The U.S. government seized the opportunity to educate the POWs about democratic ideals. To facilitate the effectiveness of teaching those prisoners, instructors were trained to understand POW psychology. The rehabilitation efforts proved effective—surveys found many of German POWs became anti-Nazi and pro-democracy after completing
Top left: Visitors’ Day in June 1941 brought thousands from Chicago to Fort Custer to meet their friends and relatives in the 184th Field Artillery. Bottom left: A review of the 184th Field Artillery on Visitors’ Day in June 1941. (Photos courtesy of the United States Army Center of Military History, Signal Corps Photos #616-8-15 and #616-8-24.)
Above: In addition to training soldiers, Fort Custer served
camp
war during World War II, pictured here. Left: POWs eat in their mess hall.
their coursework. One German soldier commented, “knowledge about [the American way of life] is the best I can take home with me to help build a new, better, and peaceful Germany.” The last POWs were repatriated in 1946.
Korean War, Cold War, and Beyond
After the war ended, the need for trained soldiers remained. The Korean War erupted in late June 1950. Draft calls resumed, and Fort Custer once again provided physical exams for incoming troops. Men with draft classification 1-A were preferred, starting with those who were the oldest and unmarried. For much of the 1960s during the Cold War, the fort was part of the North American Air Defense Command system. Custer Air Force Station was created in 1959, including an electronic defense network known as SAGE (SemiAutomatic Ground Environment) and was “the first major real-time, computer-based command-and-control system” and was designed to protect the United
States from weapons such as long-range bombers.
The fort became a National Guard base in the 1960s, with on-site Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard reserve units. Officially known as the Fort Custer Training Center and used by Army National Guard units, it is still often referred to as “Fort Custer.” Michigan’s Air National Guard was established in 1947 with a nearby base at the former Kellogg Field—now Battle Creek Executive Airport at Kellogg Field. Units from Battle Creek have been deployed to conflicts in and over locations such as Kosovo and Iraq.
Fort Custer national Cemetery
In addition to its role as a military training facility, Fort Custer also served as the final resting place for many who fought in war. It was dedicated as Fort Custer National Cemetery in May 1982, and included the graves of 16 German POWs killed in a train/truck wreck while harvesting crops near Blissfield in 1945. Ten other German soldiers who died of natural causes
during their internment are also buried there.
The remains of Army Private First Class Lowell Smith—killed in action in France on Jan. 21, 1945— were interred at the cemetery 77 years after his death. Battle Creek native Smith was identified in 2021 by analyzing the remains of an unknown soldier who was buried in Europe. Mourners filled 60 cars for the memorial service; his grave marker was inscribed with the words “Home at last.” Governor Gretchen Whitmer ordered both United States and Michigan flags to be lowered throughout the state on the day of Smith’s funeral.
Vietnam veteran Wade Flemons— one of the founders of the musical group Earth, Wind & Fire—is buried in Fort Custer. At least two monuments in the cemetery are for Michigan soldiers killed in action in Vietnam whose remains were never recovered. Those soldiers were Specialist 4 Richard Allard from Chesaning, Michigan, who was killed in a 1967 helicopter crash, and Staff Sergeant Curtis Cline from
Above: The nurses’ mess hall during World War II at the fort.
Above: During the Cold War, Fort Custer became home to an innovative electronic defense network. This is the prime search radar tower at the site. (Photo courtesy of Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, mi0425.)
Burlington, Michigan, who drowned in a 1969 river crossing.
Finding new Purpose
Despite its years of distinguished service, the fort was declared as “excess” in 1964 by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara and was transferred to the Michigan Army National Guard in 1968. In a ceremony where the federal military observed their final retreat from the fort, Fort Custer’s flag was presented to the City of Battle Creek. World War I veteran Paul Engstrom attended the ceremony, commenting, “I just couldn’t let an old friend die alone.” The federal fort at Fort Custer was no more.
A sizable portion of the old fort’s land is still utilized by the military. Though no longer technically a fort, the facility is called the Fort Custer Training Center. Many Midwestern units utilize Fort Custer for company-level trainings.
Over time, some acreage of the base was restored to civilian use. Battle Creek Unlimited, a nonprofit development agency, was established in 1972 to manage a section of the base’s conversion from military to industrial use. The resulting industrial park brought a substantial number of investments and jobs to the local community.
In addition to industrial use, another section of land was designated to create the Fort Custer State Recreation Area, which contains more than 3,000 acres of unspoiled nature and recreational opportunities. Michigan received the land under President Nixon’s Legacy of Parks program in 1971.
Through the years, many Michigan veterans have been a part of Fort Custer’s history. One such veteran, Michigan’s then-lieutenant governor, John Swainson, spoke at the fort during a November 1959
service honoring the German POWs. While serving in the army in World War II, Swainson lost both his legs to a German land mine.
Swainson—who later served as Michigan’s governor, a member of the State Supreme Court, and then as President of the Michigan Historical Commission—said at that service, “I sincerely hold no bitterness. Rather than retribution, we hope for understanding and peace.” Staff from the German consulate in Detroit attended the event. Music was provided by a
band of hospital patients and a choir of German military veterans who had become American citizens.
The spirit of reconciliation at that 1959 event would likely have pleased the many thousands of troops who mustered at Fort Custer, fought in our nation’s wars, and stood guard during peacetime. A Barry Levine works at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, volunteers at the Michigan Flight Museum in Belleville, and writes on various history-related topics.
Above: A 1947 map of Fort Custer. (Photo courtesy of US Geological Survey.)
Lighting the Way Giant Bulb Showcases Edison’s Ingenuity
In 1940, nine years after Thomas Edison’s death, the city of Port Huron, Michigan, illuminated a 50,000-watt light bulb in his honor. It was built in conjunction with the premiere of the MGM film, Young Tom Edison, starring Mickey Rooney. The February 10, 1940, world premiere was held in Port Huron, where Rooney and other stars arrived by train on the same route that young Edison traveled when he worked selling newspapers, candy, and cigars. The town hosted events, including a parade and ceremony where the bulb was illuminated.
Built and assembled by the General Electric Lamp Development engineers in Cleveland, Ohio, the 120-volt bulb has 1,400,000 lumens, reaches a temperature of 3,300 degrees Kelvin, and has 166,000 max candle power. It weighs 35 pounds and has a working life of 100 hours. The filament and its supports weigh 6.6 pounds.
The globe was hand-blown at the Corning Glass Works in Corning,
New York, and is made of Pyrex to withstand the extreme heat the bulb produces. It was brought to Port Huron in 1940 as part of a proposed permanent memorial to Edison. At the museum, a newsreel on display next to it shows Edison’s widow, Mina Edison Hughes, lighting the bulb as part of the festivities surrounding the movie’s premiere.
Since the proposed memorial was never built, the bulb lived for many years at the Port Huron offices of Detroit Edison. When the Thomas Edison Depot Museum opened in 2001, it was given a permanent home and is displayed on an oak stand with a plexiglass surround.
Other exhibits at the museum portray Edison’s multi-faceted story of creativity, family support, adversity, perseverance, and ultimate triumph as an inventor. Re-created period environments and hands-on displays invite visitors to become participants in his story.
The Thomas Edison Depot Museum is housed in the 1858 Grand Trunk railway station
where Edison rode the train to Detroit, Michigan, selling things to passengers from 1859 to 1863. Trains connecting at this station carried people and freight between Port Huron; Detroit; Point Edward/Sarnia, Ontario; and other destinations.
The historic train car next to the depot has a recreation of Edison’s baggage car chemistry lab and printing equipment. Artifacts from the archaeology of his boyhood home are also displayed, including printer’s type with which he printed his newspaper on the train.
The museum is located at 510 Edison Parkway and is one of four Port Huron Museum sites. They are currently open seven days a week from 10 a.m., to 5 p.m. Visitors can see this and many more amazing pieces of history currently on display. For more information, call (810) 982-0891 or visit phmuseum.org/thomas-edisondepot-museum A
Left: The Thomas Edison Depot Museum is located under the Blue Water Bridge and is designated a Michigan Historic Site.
Above: This 50,000-watt bulb was constructed to honor Thomas Edison’s ingenuity. (All photos courtesy of the Thomas Edison Depot Museum.) easTeRn
Buckeyes Travel to Black Lake Up North in the 1950s
By William C. Hine
Back in the medieval days of automobile travel, the Hine family made an annual trek from the Cleveland, Ohio, suburb of Seven Hills to Black Lake, Michigan, in the remote wilderness of Northern Michigan. The initial inspiration and invitation for the adventure came from family friends, Russell and Mary Beth Benore, and their children, Beth and Joe. They traveled separately from their home in Toledo, Ohio.
In the 1950s, the era before the Ohio Turnpike and Interstate 75, such a journey from Northeastern Ohio consumed 12 hours and required extensive preparations by the Hine parents, John and Jeanne. Packing four children—myself, Carol, Tom, and Peter—and one cantankerous dachshund named Gus took time and patience. The odyssey began in the predawn hours of a Saturday in August as we made our way west across Ohio through small towns including Norwalk, Clyde, and Fremont, and then up north through the Michigan cities of Flint, Saginaw, and Bay City. There were no fast-food drivethroughs back then, but there was a Howard Johnson’s in Ann Arbor, Michigan, that once served us a breakfast featuring ham with a distinctly green tinge. Much more appealing was a stop at Wilson’s Cheese Shop in Pinconning, Michigan. Comfortable rest areas were few and far between, necessitating the need to keep
an empty Maxwell House coffee can handy, lest a child’s bulging bladder burst.
For more than 100 miles from Alger to Onaway, Michigan, in the early 1950s, M-33 remained an unpaved, gravel highway that threw up clouds of dust with each passing vehicle or splattered mud if it rained. By mid-afternoon and many an “are we there yet” later, we finally arrived at the rustic cabins of the Whispering Pines Resort on Black Lake.
Rustic? Or was it downright primitive? For the first couple of years, the toilet was a one-hole outhouse behind the cabin. But there was the glorious lake to swim in and plenty of sand to play in. It was a short walk through the woods and up the hill to Sabo’s Store to replenish our supply of Clark Bars and Good-n-Plentys. The adults often spent their afternoons at the Harbor Light Inn enjoying a firebrewed Stroh’s or two—or maybe it was three. At night, a fire on the beach meant hot dogs on a stick and gooey marshmallows.
One quiet evening, Russell and John announced to the children that we would be heading into the nearby forest to hunt “snipe,” a little-known creature found only in Northern Michigan. These patriarchs of knowledge and wisdom informed their offspring that the elusive snipe was a rodentlike creature, small and shy—about as big as a little dog—and that
Castle Rock offered an expansive view of the Straits and Mackinac Island in the 1950s.
we might be able to snare one in a pillowcase.
Heading down a dirt lane into the woods, we stopped on that moonless night, and Russell and John disappeared in the darkness to try and flush the usually harmless, but sometimes fierce, snipe toward the station wagon where, under strict instructions, the youngsters were told to remain with pillowcases handy until a snipe or two was located.
Impatient as time passed, Beth cautiously opened the car door and stepped out only to have one of the critters latch on to her ankle. With a terrified, blood-curdling scream, she jumped back in the car. Russell had managed to circle back to the station wagon and seclude himself on the ground so that he could grab the protruding foot. It was a story told with great hilarity for years and decades to come.
Then there were the day trips. Everyone piled into the Ford station wagon for the ride to Mackinaw City to board the ferry to St. Ignace, Michigan. We waited in line in the car to drive on to the City of Munising or the brand-new
Vacationland for a cruise of an hour or so across the glistening blue water. By 1958, the ferries were gone, replaced by a magnificent new bridge spanning the Straits.
In the Upper Peninsula, you could not avoid the Mystery Spot—and what a mystery it was (and is). Apparently, it is the sole place on the planet where the ordinary laws of gravity fail to function. It was a bizarre phenomenon to 10- and 12-year-old youngsters. Then, we moved on to Castle Rock to ascend the stairs for an expansive view of the Straits and Mackinac Island. More enticing to children was the adjacent gift shop. For small sums of money, it was possible to purchase “authentic” NativeAmerican merchandise that had been carefully crafted in post-war Japan. What about a tomahawk or a pair of moccasins or a colorful feathered headdress? Those must-have items were sure to impress the neighborhood gang back in Ohio.
After two weeks of sun and water—beer and whiskey
for the older folks—it was time to load up the car with dirty clothes, exhausted children, a bedraggled dog, and head back down M-33 to the Buckeye state and civilization, AKA a black-and-white, 16-inch Zenith television. A William C. Hine taught history at South Carolina State University for many years. Now retired, he resides in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, but visits the Wolverine state at least twice a year.
Posing for a photo during vacation. From top to bottom left to right: Jeanne Hine, Mary Beth Benore, John Hine, Russell Benore, Carol Hine, Beth Benore, Bill Hine (author); and Tom Hine. (Photocourtesyoftheauthor.)
A trip to the Mystery Spot in the Upper Peninsula fascinated children of all ages in the 1950s. (Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division LC-DIG-mrg-06737.)
A HISTORy DATINg BACk TO THE 1600S
The Chippewa County Historical Society (CCHS) History Center is located in a 1889 building that originally housed the Sault Ste. Marie News, owned by Chase S. Osborn, the only elected Michigan governor from the Upper Peninsula. Within the museum, a detailed O-gauge model train layout represents Chippewa County’s past and helps illustrate its logging and mining industries. Other exhibits include an American café, a Native American history collection, and changing displays that cover the area’s economic, social, and cultural history. CCHS promotes the local history of the county and the city of Sault Ste. Marie. The city’s location along the shores of the St. Marys River has provided the community with a rich and varied story dating back to the 1600s.
THE HEART OF ITS COMMUNITy
Chippewa County Historical Society History Center
Location: 115 Ashmun St., Sault St. Marie, MI 49783.
Hours: Mon-Fri 1-8 p.m.
More information: Call (906) 635-7082 or visit cchsmi.com.
The Traverse Area District Library (TADL) believes in being a working part of the community. The main branch of TADL—located in Traverse City— is the home of the area’s historical archives. As the largest collection of published and unpublished works concerning the Grand Traverse Region, the archives date back to the Traverse City Old Settler’s Association, a social club organized in the 1920s. That group eventually became the Grand Traverse Historical Society (GTHS). TADL is a network of six community libraries including the Main Library, East Bay Branch Library, Kingsley Branch Library, Fife Lake Public Library, Interlochen Public Library, and Peninsula Community Library. The historical archives can also be accessed digitally.
Traverse Area District Library, Main Library - Traverse City
Location: 610 Woodmere Ave., Traverse City, MI 49686.
Hours: Main Library: Mon-Thu 9 a.m.-9 p.m., Fri-Sat 9 a.m.-6 p.m., Sun 12 p.m.-5 p.m.
More information: Call (231) 932-8500 or visit tadl.org.
Hickory grove Farm
Documenting the construction date of a house can require many hours of research. The more challenging projects involve digging through records of land transfers, property tax rolls, building permits, maps and atlases, census records, newspaper files, and more. On other occasions, the date practically leaps out from the house itself. Such is true of Hickory Grove Farm in Bloomfield Township, Michigan— a Michigan Heritage Home.
In 1917, Sherman and Hazel (Pingree) Depew founded Hickory Grove Farm in the countryside just northwest of Bloomfield Hills. The couple’s marriage in 1906 united two of America’s blueblooded families. Sherman’s uncle, Chauncey Depew, was an attorney for railroad tycoon Cornelius Vanderbilt and later a U.S. senator from New York. Hazel Pingree’s
father, Hazen, served as mayor of Detroit, Michigan, from 1889 to 1897 and governor of the state from 1897 to 1901. Sherman and Hazel probably met when he was employed in Hazen Pingree’s shoe manufacturing company in Detroit.
The Depews hired New York City architect Electus D. Litchfield to design their new summer home. Litchfield modeled the house on his own home in Litchfield, New York, designing it in the enormously popular Colonial Revival architectural style. The Colonial Revival style marked a departure from the flamboyant, ornate styles of the Victorian era, such as Queen Anne and Italianate.
Colonial Revival architecture represented actual buildings from America’s colonial era without trying to copy them. Elements included pedimented or gabled
easTeRn
windows, pilasters and columns, front doors with fan lights or side lights, and Palladian windows. Most Colonial Revival style buildings, like Hickory Grove Farm, were larger and more solid-looking than those of the pre-Revolutionary War days.
The Spur magazine, a publication devoted to country homes and gardens—and frequently equestrian topics—featured the house in its June 15, 1920, issue. “The note of simplicity is an excellent one, for in a country home . . . too much pomp and ornateness is alien to the real country house spirit, and houses of this class frequently appear quite out of keeping with a quiet countryside.”
Identifying the construction date of Hickory Grove Farm posed no difficulty. In addition to contemporary descriptions like that of The Spur, Litchfield had the date, 1917, carved into the window arch over the front door.
Sherman Depew died of heart failure in 1924 at the age of 43. In 1935, Hazel married Wilson Mills. She sold Hickory Grove Farm to Robert and Rose Skillman. Today, Sydney and Elizabeth Ross are the proud owners of Hickory Grove Farm. In 2021, the Historical Society of Michigan (HSM) certified Hickory Grove Farm as a Michigan Heritage Home.A
HSM’s Michigan Heritage Home program is sponsored by The Meijer Foundation. For more information on how to become certified as a Michigan Heritage Home, visit hsmichigan.org.
Above: Architect Electus D. Litchfield designed the house in the Colonial Revival architectural style. Left: A view of the Hickory Grove Farm from the east.
Legacy Circle
Help preserve history for generations to come. Become a Legacy Circle member today.
You can make a difference by...
• Supporting high quality workshops, lectures, and conferences.
• Facilitating greater outreach through history education programs and services.
• Honoring Michigan’s rich history and aiding local historical organizations and communities.
• And more...
Reconciliation in a Michigan Watershed Restoring Ken-O-Sha
By Gail Gunst Heffner and David P. Warners
Michigan State University Press
ISBN: 9781611864939
For more than two centuries, the Ken-O-Sha watershed declined in water quality and safety; it may have been doomed if not for the intervention of the Plaster Creek Stewards in the greater Grand Rapids, Michigan, area. The Plaster Creek Stewards— founded by scholars, ecologists, and authors Gail Gunst Heffner and David P. Warners—utilized “reconciliation ecology.” The strategy draws from aspects of multiple disciplines, including history. By examining ecological and human history, Heffner and Warners harness the past to create long-term solutions for the health of Ken-O-Sha and the communities who live along its waters.
Michigan’s Venice
The Transformation of the St. Clair Maritime Landscape, 1640-2000
By Daniel F. Harrison
Wayne State University Press
ISBN: 9780814349465
Covering more than three centuries of maritime history, author Daniel F. Harrison takes readers on a journey through the historical evolution of the St. Clair lake and river system in Michigan’s Venice: The Transformation of the St. Clair Maritime Landscape. Harrison’s unique approach to storytelling— or, as he calls it, “evidence-based storytelling”—masterfully weaves together historic ethnographies, archival records, and archaeology into a riveting narrative. From humble beginnings to the birth of the towing industry and beyond, readers will come away from the book with a new appreciation for Michigan’s “Venice.”
Organizing Your Own The White Fight for Black Power in Detroit
By Say Burgin
New York University Press
ISBN: 9781479814145
Power dynamics, the divide between “us and them,” and the overarching human desire for equality fill the pages of Say Burgin’s newest book. Focusing on the mid-1960s to mid-1970s in Detroit, Michigan, the book examines the history of white activists uplifting Black-led movements and establishing antiracist movements within white communities. Burgin presents those movements—of both Black and white communities—as an experimental step towards the “parallel movements” concept. The book showcases the power of allyship and compassion in the movement towards racial equality.
gHOST TOWNS
Can you identify these nine Michigan ghost towns and the communities in which they are located? Answers and photo credits are located at the bottom of the page.
1.) Fayette, Garden. 2.) Glen Haven, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. 3.) Fallasburg, Vergennes Township. 4.) Shaytown, Sunfield Township. 5.) Rawsonville, Ypsilanti Charter Township. 6.) Old Victoria, Rockland. 7.) Pequaming, L’Anse Township. 8.) Gunnisonville, Lansing. 9.) Port Crescent, Port Austin. (Photos 1, 6, and 7 courtesy of the Beaumier Heritage Center at Northern Michigan University. hotoP 2 courtesy of the National Park Service. Photo 3, 5, and 9 courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Nortorious4life. Photo 4 courtesy Flickr/Joel da.Din Photo 8 courtesy of Flickr/kennethaw88.)
Do you like reading about Michigan’s history ?
Become a member of the Historical Society of Michigan and receive Michigan History PLUS Chronicle, our quarterly membership magazine with more feature stories, special sections, and the latest history updates.
Enjoy more reading material and additional member benefits today!
Upgrade to a Historical Society of Michigan membership today and read more history at www.hsm.pub/join.
Midland’s Iconic Tridge
One of Midland’s largest tourist attractions, the Tridge is a three-pronged wooden footbridge over the confluence of the Chippewa and Tittabawassee Rivers. Each section of the bridge spans 180 feet and connects to a central support pillar that is 31 feet tall. This wintry view of one of the Tridge’s three arches was taken by David Alsgaard, an honorable mention winner of our back cover photo contest.
