Old Peninsula Days: Tales and Sketches of the Door Peninsula

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Text originally published in 1925 under the same title.

© Papamoa Press 2018, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

OLD PENINSULA DAYS

TALES AND SKETCHES OF THE DOOR PENINSULA

BY

HJALMAR R. HOLAND

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 5

PREFACE 6

ILLUSTRATIONS 7

MAP 9

CHAPTER I—THE DOOR PENINSULA 10

CHAPTER II—INDIAN DAYS 13

CHAPTER III—FOOTPRINTS OF A GREAT EXPLORER 23

CHAPTER IV—THE FIRST PIONEER 36

CHAPTER V—A FORGOTTEN COMMUNITY 41

CHAPTER VI—THE OLDEST VILLAGE IN DOOR COUNTY 50

CHAPTER VII—EPHRAIM: A VENTURE IN COMMUNISM 60

CHAPTER VIII—EPHRAIM: A STRUGGLE WITH THE WILDERNESS 71

CHAPTER IX—WHEN THE U.S. MAIL CAME 82

CHAPTER X—PENINSULA STATE PARK 88

CHAPTER XI—FISH CREEK 97

CHAPTER XII—THE LAST MATCH 113

CHAPTER XIII—THE GIANT OF HEDGEHOG HARBOR 118

CHAPTER XIV—JACKSONPORT 123

CHAPTER XV—WASHINGTON ISLAND 128

CHAPTER XVI—A MAN OF IRON: A TALE OF DEATH’S DOOR 137

CHAPTER XVII—THE BELGIAN SETTLEMENT 141

CHAPTER XVIII—THE RISE AND FALL OF ROWLEYS BAY 155

CHAPTER XIX—TOILERS OF THE SEA 161

CHAPTER XX—DOOR COUNTY LITERATURE 168

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 177

DEDICATION

To my wife

and best counselor, I dedicate this book

about a land we have lived in

and loved for many years

PREFACE

The Door Peninsula, also called the Thumb of Wisconsin, has a unique history. The exceptional physical conditions which Nature has built up in and around the peninsula have produced men and experiences not commonly met with. The result is a pioneer history teeming with unusual characters and incidents.

This pioneer history is built on a background of Indian life and legend the counterparts of which may be present in other regions, but are there mostly forgotten. Here, happily, these ancient dramas have been preserved to us by the observations and remarks of the early French missionaries who visited and labored in this region more than two hundred years ago.

Recently this peninsula has become known to thousands of discriminating tourists attracted hither by its exquisite scenery and diversified flora. Here, far from the crowds and dust of the city, they have found a haven unharassed by the weary strain of social demands, and become almost like children again. Here the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.

This book is written for the purpose of telling something about the making of this American community. The author has had the privilege of spending more than forty years in this fair region, and he knows it intimately. He has heard the story of its early settlement from the lips of the pioneers who conquered its wilderness; he has talked with scores of fishermen and sailors who have adventured on its waters; from the Indian and the pathfinder he has learned legends of old. From these sources and others has grown the following narrative, in which he attempts to picture the fascinating history, stirring traditions, and the quaint characters that form the living background of this land of romance.

While this book is not intended as a local history, it is historical throughout. In one or two instances names have been changed, but otherwise it is true to fact. While the history of the peninsula abounds with many things of local interest, only such matters have been selected as are considered typical or have a common human appeal. To make the best selections is a problem beset with difficulties because the pioneers of Door County have left us so many illuminating and delectable episodes. For this reason several new chapters have been added to this edition and other chapters have been omitted to keep the book within the desired limits.

H. R. H.

Cedar Hill,

Ephraim, Wis.

ILLUSTRATIONS

1. The Old Man of the Sea

2. Map of the Peninsula

3. To Montreal with Pelts

Group I

4. Nicolet Bay

5. A Cherry Orchard

6. The La Salle Monument

7. The Totem Pole

8. A Cove at Little Sturgeon Bay

9. Claflin’s Elms

10. Rock Island

11. The Oldest House

Group II

12. Old Bridge Across Kangaroo Lake

13. Shoreline at North Bay

14. At the Mouth of Moonlight Bay

15. Kangaroo Lake

16. Pioneer Monument at Ephraim

17. Rev. A. M. Iverson

18. Nils Otto Tank

19. The Old Parsonage

20. Ephraim

21. Little Sister Bay

22. Iverson’s Pulpit

23. Eagle Cliff

24. Site of Claflin’s House

25. Old Church in Fish Creek

Group III

26. Fish Creek

27. The Shoreline North of Fish Creek

28. A Cherry Orchard

29. Tecumseh’s Cave

30. A Cooper’s Fireplace

31. Allen Bradley

32. End of the Peninsula

Group IV

33. A Fisherman’s Dock on Washington Island

34. A Sculptured Indian

35. A Fisherman’s Dock at Whitefish Bay

36. Nest of Sea Gulls

37. Aerial View of Cana Island

38. Early Residents of Door County

39. A Pioneer Sawmill

40. Belgian Woman Carrying Wheat to Mill

Group V

41. The Altar in the Chapel

42. Gateway at Tornado Park

43. Sister Adéle’s School

44. A Waterfall at Bay Settlement

45. The Crags of North Bay

46. A Wreck on Plum Island

MAP

CHAPTER I—THE DOOR PENINSULA

There was a time on this fair continent

When all things throve in spacious peacefulness.

The prosperous forests unmolested stood,

For where the stalwart oak grew, there it lived

Long ages, and then died among its kind.

The hoary pines—those ancients of the earth—

Brimful of legends of the early world.

Stood thick on their own mountains unsubdued;

And all things else illumined by the sun,

Inland or by the lifted waves, had rest.

CHARLES BLAIR

Far away, from the thousand hills of Wisconsin, the waters of Green Bay are gathered. They come purling out of gushing springs and become little streams which unite into great rivers like the swift Menominee, the somber Oconto and the famous Fox. From cataract to cataract they swirl and flow, until at last they plunge into the Emerald Sea.

More than a hundred miles long is Green Bay, and its width varies from thirty miles at its mouth to two miles at its head. It was fashioned by the glaciers, which a hundred thousand years ago scooped out its basin and spread the former fill of alluvial soil southward over eastern Wisconsin. But on the eastern side the glaciers encountered a wall of limestone which they could not budge. This unshakable ridge which defied the glaciers is the Door County Peninsula.

The greater part of Door County is really an island because the Peninsula is cut in two by Sturgeon Bay and the ship canal. Being thus surrounded by large bodies of water, this northern half of the county has the most equable climate of any county in the north-western states. The mean annual temperature at Sturgeon Bay is 43°. The winter average is 22°, which is several degrees milder than any other place north and west of Chicago. The summer average is 67°, which is cooler than any other in the State. A peculiarity of this Peninsula is that here north is south and south is north. That is, the climate is milder in the north end. A cold wave registers nine or ten degrees lower temperature in the city of Green Bay at the base of the Peninsula than it does 75 miles farther north. This is due to the fact that the land area is much narrower in the north, and the adjacent water area is wider, hence has a greater modifying effect on the climate.

For the same reason Door County has a longer annual frost-free period than is enjoyed in any other county in the State. The average date at Sturgeon Bay of the last killing frost in spring is May 1st, and the average date of the first killing frost in fall is October 10th, which makes a frost-free period of 160 days. This is sixteen days longer than in the favored Yakima Valley at North Yakima, Washington.{1} Because of these climatic conditions, Door County is exceptionally well adapted to growing fruit. About one-fourth of all the pie cherries produced in America are grown here in a small, area of only a half dozen townships.

But greatest of all Door County’s charms is its scenic beauty. It has a sinuous shore line of 250 miles, and every craggy promontory presents a superb prospect, every indentation of the shore a pleasing panorama. Along the entire western side of the Peninsula a mountainous precipice of castellated limestone defies the roaring waves, its bold crags half covered with clinging cedars. On the east side the land lies low with many deep inlets and languorous lakes, where the wild fowl squawk and splash among the reeds of wild rice. Beyond the rolling combers lie a score of dreamy isles, the waters around them abounding in bass, trout and whitefish. In ancient days when the broad back of the Peninsula was a forest of green, it was the favorite home of the Red Man. When the pioneers came, they found the glades of the interior teeming with deer, and the bear had many a snug winter camp in the hollow trunks of giant oaks. Due to the fact that much of the soil in northern Door County is too shallow for farming, there is still an abundance of woodland growth, sheltering the homes of the farmers and producing a glory of autumn coloring which is nowhere surpassed.

Unique Peninsula! Just as it formerly was a haven of delight to the children of the wilderness, so it is now a balm to the pilgrims from the city seeking rest for tired nerves. The perfect harmony of its scenery is like a home-coming to every lover of nature. Many visitors are not content with a few weeks’ sojourn. Drawn hither by the peace of its wooded hills and the beauty of its sea-girt shores, discriminating people are leaving their crowded city environs and are building permanent homes here.

Door County was once a vast forest whose timber products, carried in thousands of vessels, helped to build Chicago and Milwaukee, Fifty piers extended into the waters that surround the Peninsula, and clumsy but capacious schooners were constantly being loaded with forest products which the pioneers with back-breaking toil had cut and hauled out of their timbered acres. For a half century this battle with the forest continued. The chief reward of the pioneers was a lusty appetite, but there was little with which to satisfy it.

That forest has now, to a large extent, been replaced with quite another mantle of trees:—a forest of a million fruit trees, stretching for miles over the rolling hills. In blossomtime these far-flung orchards present a vision of floral beauty of unsurpassed magnificence. The pioneers, after conquering the woods, the stumps and the stones, found that the soil was rather shallow, and thought that the rugged uplands of the Peninsula had been niggardly treated by Nature, but these uplands held a potential store of delicious fruitfulness.

On the whole, Nature has been very kind to the Peninsula, and the pioneers and their sons cooperated well in laying out the highways, the villages and the city of Sturgeon Bay. The view of the latter by night or day as one approaches from the south is superb, and all the villages having water fronts are most pleasing. Ephraim, with its trim white cottages peeping out among the evergreens of the hillside, has an appearance of charm and dignity which is very rare among villages, and Fish Creek is only less so because it is smaller. The highways are good, and are laid out so as to give a maximum of pleasure to the wayfarer. Forty years ago traffic was mostly by steamboats, and the deep roar of the steamers echoed grandly from the towering cliffs. Then the roads were rough and narrow. But the automobiles have put the steamboats out of business, and now all the two thousand miles of highway in Door County are well graded and paved with stone or cement.

CHAPTER II—INDIAN DAYS

In the vale of Tawasentha,

In the green and silent valley,

By the pleasant water-courses,

Round about the Indian village

Spread the meadows and the cornfields,

And beyond them stood the forest,

Green in summer, white in winter.

Ever sighing, ever singing.

LONGFELLOW.

Door County was a well known region hundreds of years before it became famous for its scenery and cherries. More than 300 years ago it was the home of the ancient Winnebago, a proud and savage tribe of Indians who permitted no neighbor to dwell in peace. Later, when these domineering savages were overcome, the Peninsula became a haven of refuge for the remnants of the tribes of Ontario and Michigan who fled before the fury of the Iroquois. Here, near the village of Jacksonport was fought a battle which some historians believe decided the fate of the French dominion of America. This Peninsula was also the destination of Jean Nicolet, the first explorer of the West, and here the French missionaries located their first mission in the West. And when Robert La Salle looked about for the most promising place to trade in order to earn money to finance his great expedition across the continent to the mouth of the Mississippi, he, too, came to this Peninsula to seek his fortune. His choice was wise because from this region came for many years the largest flotillas of Indian canoes, laden with beaver skins to rejoice the hearts of the merchants of Montreal.

Down near the base of the Peninsula, on a hill called Red Banks, twelve miles northeast of Green Bay, stood Mogachutes, the great village of the Winnebago. Within its fortifications lived three thousand grim warriors—people not without virtues, but obsessed by a passion for warfare. This pugnacity prevented them from tolerating neighbors, and if emissaries from distant tribes came to visit them, such visitors were often killed and eaten. From this stronghold the proud Winnebago ruled nearly all the present state of Wisconsin. They are the oldest known inhabitants of the West. All their tradition led back to this spot. Even now to this bold hilltop comes from time to time a Winnebago pilgrim from his windswept reservation in Nebraska. From afar he stands, gazing reverently at the broad summit where once the glory of his people was focused. Climbing the hill he stares dreamily across the expanse of white-capped breakers below. Then he kneels, and with pious hands scoops up a handful of the sacred earth to carry back to his children on alien soil.

The fame of this great village reached even Champlain, the first governor of New France, in Quebec, more than a thousand miles away. He understood the Indians in Lower Canada to say that these Winnebago lived on a bay, the water of which was salt. From the time of Columbus and for two hundred years after, almost every effort of exploration in America was stimulated by the hope of finding a waterway that would lead to China and India. Thinking that here perhaps was that waterway, and that these Winnebago were some frontier village of the celestial empire, Governor Champlain in 1634 sent out an expedition to visit them and make a treaty of peace.

This one-man expedition of Jean Nicolet is perhaps the most remarkable exploration expedition in history. A comparison will illustrate this. In 1870 Henry M. Stanley led a great expedition seven hundred miles into Africa to search for the missionary, David Livingstone, who was temporarily lost. Stanley had almost a shipload of supplies, with hundreds of beast of burden and a veritable army of attendants, and several books were written about the heroic undertaking.

What was Nicolet’s equipment? The governor had no money and Nicolet had none, so no equipment was possible. But Nicolet had what money could not buy—a self-reliance and resourcefulness of the first quality. So he made a canoe out of birchbark, sewed together with the slender roots of a jack-pine, and persuaded some friendly Indians to help him paddle it. This and some parched corn and pemmican was the sum of his outfit. Then, one single white man, he seated himself in his bark canoe to travel a thousand miles among strange tribes to visit a nation of cannibals, reported to be the most ferocious Indians in America, whom no white man had ever seen before.

What happened to this daring explorer? Did the first group of Indians that he met kill him and cook him in their kettles? No, Nicolet had lived for years as an Indian among Indians and knew how to deal with them. So he traveled up the great Ottawa River with its forty portages, voyaged over the waters of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan and finally came to the Door Peninsula. Past its rock-bound shores he paddled, no doubt charmed with a nature so majestic and different from any he had seen. When he reached Eagle Island (near the village of Ephraim), two days’ journey from his destination, he made camp for a few days, while he sent one of his Indian companions to Red Banks to tell the Winnebago of his coming as was the custom among the Indians.

Finally came the day when he reached the great village with its huge stockade on the hill. The Winnebago saw him from afar, and thousands of them crowded the beach when his canoe landed. Most of them were naked savages clutching a stone tomahawk with some vague hope of plunder. But there were also many great chiefs dressed in their ceremonial robes to see this strange white man who had come to visit them.

How was Nicolet to impress these thousands of savages so that they would receive him with respect? They were insolent creatures who had no neighbors because they had made war upon them all and killed them. But Nicolet had not only courage but wit. As the canoe touched the shore, he stepped out. On his head he wore a big beaver hat, and he had arrayed himself in a grand robe of Chinese damask, strewn with birds and flowers of many colors, because he thought that he might have reached some outlying village in China. In either hand he held a pistol, but not for defense. Raising one hand to the sky, he pulled the trigger and a jet of flame shot out, followed by a thunderous report. Upon hearing this noise, the women and children fled terror-stricken into the woods. And when Nicolet raised his other hand and repeated the miracle, even the warrior forgot their tomahawks and felt constrained to fly. Only a few chiefs, trembling but determined, stood their ground. Who was this strange being who carried thunder in either hand? Was he a friend or a foe?

To answer that question was not so easy, for the Winnebago belonged to the Dakotan group whose language was as unknown to Nicolet as the Chinese which he may have thought that they spoke. But again he found a way. He pushed two crotched sticks into the sand and across these he laid a third. Then he hung upon this stick such presents as he know would appeal to the Indian mind. These presents said as plainly as words: See, I come to you as a friend! Quickly, therefore, the Indians recovered from their alarm, and so winning was Nicolet’s personality that soon he won the friendship of all. He stayed with them the following winter, and when he departed in spring, it was with assurances of peace and good will which promised to open the doors of the West to French enterprise and business.

But nothing came of it for many years. Governor Champlain died only a few months after Nicolet’s return, and his successors in office were not interested in exploration. Meanwhile the Winnebago on the Door Peninsula were reaping the grim harvest of their previous insolence. The ten years that followed were filled with bloodshed, amazing perfidy and unspeakable suffering, and they came to a sudden and disastrous end.

After the last wretched survivors of the Winnebago had fled to Lake Winnebago, the Door Peninsula became the domain of the Potawatomi. These Indians were Algonquians, of entirely different stock from the Winnebago, and all the early travelers are unanimous in describing them as the most estimable of the aborigines. Their first large village was Méchingan, at the mouth of Hibbards Creek, a half mile north of the present village of Jacksonport. They were very hospitable and liked nothing better than to be praised for their generosity. Thanks to this unquestioning hospitality, they soon played a most significant part in early American history.

During the years immediately before and after 1650, a great war had been raging in Lower Ontario and the adjoining regions. The Iroquois of central New York, perhaps the most savage and vindictive tribe in America, had obtained firearms from the Dutch traders in Fort Orange (now Albany), and, thus equipped, determined to destroy all their neighbors for hundreds of miles around. In this they were most fearfully successful, for the French would not sell muskets to the