logging

MURDER IN CLARE COUNTY

Posted on October 16, 2020 by martyjbird

A review of a new book by Jon H.Ringelberg

Thou shalt not kill: Exodus 20:13

It’s one of the 10 Commandments and even people who don’t read the Bible know of that one. Sadly, it’s also a commandment that has been broken since the dawn of time (like so many other commandments).

A new book by local historian, attorney, and former District Court Judge Jon H. Ringelberg shows that that this specific commandment has been broken in Clare County at least 69 times going back to 1877, not long after the county was founded, and that doesn’t even mention poor Rover, whose story is also covered within the book’s 222 pages. Appropriately titled Clare County Murders 1871-2020, large paperback book details every recorded manner of death that occurred within the county’s borders including the who, what, when, where and why, and of course, the how (as one might imagine guns are the most frequent method but the reader learns of the other imaginative ways Clareites have found to eliminate those they despised).

Along the way the reader meets men like Owen Feeney whose death led to the naming of Deadman’s Lake near Farwell; a 12-year-old girl who killed a younger sibling due to jealousy; and a case in 1903 that could have been right out of a current episode of CSI as it includes a exhumation of a body to prove poisoning.

Of course, the most well-known murder in the County, that of Isaiah Leebove at the Doherty Hotel in 1938, is included, although Ringelberg gives readers just a summary of that murder, directing readers instead to the book Mystery Man, a biography of Leebove by Robert Knapp.

One of the interesting items that Ringelberg includes in his book is a look at what he calls the “speed of justice,” over last 150 years. He might of more accurately called it the “lack of speed of justice,” since the amount of time has more than doubled in most cases.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, murders have occurred in all but one county township: Hats off to you Summerfield. One more thing, be extra nice to people in the middle of August, that’s the month with the most murders and Ringelberg adds that most murders seem to happen in the middle of the month. Not sure what to make of all that, but it may be worth keeping in mind when the dog days of summer roll around next year.

Clare County Murders is available at Cops & Doughnuts in Clare, the Clare County Cleaver office in Harrison and through Amazon. Let’s just hope there’s no need for a revised edition of the book with even more murders, but with human nature being what it is that may be wishful thinking.

Categories: Clare County, Gladwin, Harrison, History, logging, Michigan | Tags: chief red cloud, clare county, jon h. ringelberg, jon ringelberg, Leebove, murder, murders, owen feeney, rover | Leave a comment

Old Photo IDs and Journalism 101

Posted on October 15, 2014 by martyjbird

Who were these people? Were they two of the vilest people to ever call Michigan home or were they someone’s sweet great- great-uncle and great-great-aunt?

Up until a few months ago I thought they were the former. I believed they were Jim Carr and Maggie Duncan. Both lived during the lumbering era of the 1880s when Clare County was in the midst of a short-lived economic boom brought about by the lumbering of the county’s many forests. Carr owned the Devil’s Ranch Stockade, a combination saloon and whorehouse in that small mid-Michigan community located in the small community of Harrison. Carr ran the saloon while—at least it seems from the arrest records–Duncan handled the prostitutes.

In fact I was so sure I included those two photos in blog post entitled “Jim and Maggie: Disreputable, Despicable and Clare County’s Own.,” which provided a summary of the lives and their crimes. I was confident in my identification because those same photos appeared in two books: Frankie and the Barons by Stuart Gross, and Michigan Rogues, Desperadoes, Cut-Throats by Tom Powers.

Then Angela Kellogg tossed the proverbial monkey wrench into things.

In 2013, Kellogg, a Harrison librarian, was working with Cody Beemer on a book about Harrison. Because the book would primarily use photographs to tell the county’s history, Kellogg intended to use the two photos. However, she first wanted to ensure the two photos were actually of Carr and Duncan. She didn’t doubt that photos of the two existed, or at least had once existed. It’s likely both would have taken time away from their criminal enterprises to sit for a portrait with the local photographer. Many people did back then either to share or for the novelty of it.

These are the photos identified as Carr and Duncan as they appear in the Power’s book. They photos are identical to the ones in the Gross book.

So it was likely there had been photos of Carr and Duncan taken, but if they still existed neither Kellogg or Beemer had ever seen them, and Kellogg was not going to include any photo she could not positively identify.

It’s a Journalism 101 rule writers of history too often forget: “If your mother says she loves you, get proof.”

So Kellogg sought to contact the two authors to get that proof. Powers quickly responded saying he copied the photos from the book by Gross but had not confirmed the identity of the two figures. (I can’t blame the man since it was the same thing I had done when I wrote my Carr/Duncan post.)

That left Gross. Unfortunately getting that proof proved difficult since Gross had died in 1996. Undeterred, Kellogg contacted the book publisher Gross had used and was directed to a woman who worked there now and had been an intern when Gross was putting the finishing touches on his “Frankie” book. She remembered rather lengthy discussions on the topic of the two photos and told Kellogg that Gross felt very strongly the two photos were the infamous pair and so pushed for their publication. However, Kellogg’s source did not remember any real evidence that Gross had to back up his assertion.

Why Gross was so insistent is not known. he must have had some evidence, even circumstantial. However, whatever evidence he produced had been enough so that his argument carried the day; the two photos became Carr and Duncan.

But not in Kellogg and Beemer’s book. The story of Carr and Duncan is told but no photos of them are included. Journalism 101.

Then the question still remains: Who were these people? Are they Carr and Duncan or are they someone’s kindly old relative long deceased who may now have hundreds of heirs.

If you know, please let Angie Kellogg at the Harrison District Library know, respond to this post, or send an email to the Clare County Historical Society. Maybe someone still has the archives of Stuart Gross. Maybe somewhere in there is the evidence that had convinced Gross.

In the meantime, be vigilant. You already know you have to take what you read on the Internet with a grain of salt. Maybe an entire salt shaker. It might also be worth exercising that same note of caution with what you read in books, especially if they rely heavily on the research of others. As this story shows, not everything you read is necessarily accurate. At the same time, please note that the remaining information on Carr and Duncan that appears in the Gross and Power books appears to be historically accurate, although both seem to rely on the research of others and on old newspaper accounts.

Note: Kellogg and Beemer’s book on Harrison (with 100% verified information) is available by contacting Kellogg at the above link.

Categories: Clare County, Harrison, History, logging | Leave a comment

They Were Tough in Them There Days

Posted on January 28, 2014 by martyjbird

I ran across this article in a copy of The Clare Sentinel that was written sometime around 1894. It’s one of those stories that I’d love to know what happened beforehand to spark the incident, and what happened afterward. However, it does show just how tough men were back then. Or maybe just plain lucky.

Saturday evening about 8:30 o’ clock, Rosa Smith, an inmate of a dance house at Meredith, deliberately shot Benjamin Villeneuve while he was passing along Main street. She was at once arrested and committed to the county jail. The bullet struck Villeneuve in the mouth and knocked out three teeth but did no further damage otherwise than to scare him and the crowd, but it was probably a love affair.

(Note: The article is posted as it appeared in the newspaper, complete with grammatical errors.)

Categories: Clare County, History, Life, logging, Michigan | Tags: Benjamin Villeneuve, Meredith Michigan | 2 Comments

Michigan Lumber Pikes

Posted on November 14, 2013 by martyjbird

The following article by Fred C. Olds appeared in the July 1953 issue of Railroad Magazine. I thought it was a terrific article, although it does not really break new ground. It also contained a number of photographs that I have not included here for the simple reason that the pages of the magazine, has discolored over the years, as newspaper quality paper tends to, and so would not reproduce well. Instead, I have included photos in the Clare County Historical Society archives.

I did not change the spelling or grammar used in the original article, and that includes any factual errors. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy Mr. Olds’ article and hope that since the magazine is no longer in print that I’m not violating any major copywrite laws.

The racing crests of Michigan’s big rivers, with picturesque river hogs riding spring log drives, captured most of the glamour in Michigan’s lumbering history. All but forgotten, less colorful but just as vital to the timber industry, was the role played by the logging railroad. Pushing out into isolated forest cuttings, these little iron pikes early in the 20^th Century criss-crossed the northern and central interior of lower Michigan into a web-like pattern of rails.

Their existence dependent upon the product they transported, most were doomed from the start for but a brief span of operation. Mileage grew at a furious paces as rails opened new timber areas for the lumberjack harvest, but these little pikes withered almost as quickly on their iron vines when the logs were cut off. There demise was often sudden and without ceremony. Abandonment of the forest road simply meant piling its equipment, including locomotives on flatcars to be carried out over its own creaky rails for service in another sector or for another owner.

How and where did the logging railroad get its start in Michigan?

Records shows that by 1875 loggers had been busily chewing into the state’s extensive forests for 40 years. Over this period commercial lumbering interests had steadily whittled their way northward, skirting the shores of Lake Huron and Michigan, penetrating inland along the larger rivers—the Grand, Tittabawasee, Saginaw, Au Sable, Muskegon, Manistee, Chippewa, Pere Marquette and their tributary streams—to strip out the lush stands of cork pine. In those first years, water played the major role as a log hauler. Timber (pine, that is) had to be readily accessible to a suitable stream for flotage or it was practically valueless. It was this lack of water transportation, according to a claim set forth in an old issue of The Northern Lumberman that caused the nation’s first logging railroad to be built in Michigan’s Clare County in 1876. Its builder was Winfield Scott Gerrish, who owned extensive pine holdings in Clare in the center of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula about halfway between the Straits of Mackinac and the Ohio line.

A brief biography of Gerrish, carried in the A History of Northern Michigan, shows that he gave early promise as a timber operator. Born in Maine, where his father Nathaniel was a lumberman, young Gerrish spent his boyhood and early manhood in Croton, Michigan; started driving logs at the age of 18, and when 25 made his first large logging contract. It called for the timber to be banked on Doc & Tom Creek in the southwest part of Clare County in 1874 for flotage to mills in Muskegon via the Muskegon River. Misfortune struck without warning, however. The Doc & Tom shrank to a mere rivulet as the result of a spring drought, and Gerrish’s winter cut of logs was left high and dry on the banks.

Gerrish managed to float his cargo to mill by dint of hard work, but he conceded that small streams proved an unsure means of transporting his timber. He obtained an interest in 12,000 acres of pine on the west side of Clare County between the headwaters of the Muskegon River and Lake George, but because of its remoteness (6 to 10 miles) from a good floating stream, not a tree had been cut in this tract. Gerrish was not one to be easily discouraged. The Northwestern Lumberman report noted that he considered pole roads and tramways to transport logs but tried neither method, believing both were impractical. In stead, he found his solution in a most unlikely spot—hundreds of miles away, at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. While on a visit there he saw a small Baldwin-build locomotive displayed in a machinery exhibit. It gave him an idea.

If he couldn’t float his logs to the Muskegon River, why not haul them on this first leg of their journey by rail? Figuring it was worth a try, he hurried home and hastily built the Lake George & Muskegon River Railroad, as he called it, which was splashing its valuable timber merchandise into the mighty Muskegon early in 1876. The Northwestern Lumberman account calls this 6-mile pike, running from Lake George northwesterly to the river near the present village of Temple, the nation’s and perhaps the world’s first logging railroad. Other railroads had penetrated timber areas before that time but conducted a general freight and passenger business. The LG&MR was a strictly a log hauler, and as such is claimed to have been the first of its kind.

Gerrish, Edmund Hazelton and four associates of Hersey, Michigan, were listed as the road’s incorporators in a Special Report of the Michigan Railroad Commission. On November 28^th, 1881 the railroad was acquired by John L. Woods and on February 18^th, 1882 by C. H. Hackley & Co., the last named for a large Muskegon firm which operated it as a forest road until its sale to the Toledo, Ann Arbor & Cadillac Railway (now part of the Ann Arbor Railway) between August 25^th and December 20^th, 1886. Approximately four miles of the old LG&MR grade now carry Ann Arbor rails between Lake George and Temple.

It’s very lonesome country up there, particularly in the winter months. Acres of stumps scare its ridges and valleys, a fading legacy from that long-lost pine kingdom. Paralleling Highway 10 west from Clare for a few miles, the Ann Arbor rails turn northwest to skirt Lake George along its east rim, cutting a thin swath through the brushy second-growth timber and young spruce as it heads toward Temple, Cadillac and its Kale, Michigan terminus at Elberta. Lake George is a bustling resort community in the summer, but the old gray depot has been closed for many years

Gerrish, after completing his logging short line, expanded his lumbering operations until his biographer described him as being at one time probably the world’s largest individual logger. It is estimated that his highest individual contribution to the Muskegon River was 130,000,000 feet of timber in 1879. Most of this was carried over his Lake George and Muskegon River Railroad—not a bad tonnage record for a little two-bit logging pike founded only three years before.

His new transportation idea gained quick favor among the state’s lumber kings. It ushered in a new era, opening up hitherto unprofitable but heavily timbered pine and hardwood country. It brought an unprecedented boom in Michigan railroad building. Both broad and narrow-gage lines were pushed deeper into backwoods districts to take out timber. For a few years a weird assortment of motive power echoed their whistle tones across the long plains and forested hills. Saddle-tank dinkeys and Shay-geared sidewinders chuffed and clanked over hastily-built rails which meandered around hills and across swamps, their tenders and log cars bearing now all but forgotten titles.

Built for special purpose, log hauling, these railroad accomplished their chore efficiently and without delays. A venture as utilitarian as the lumbermen’s favorite axiom, “Cut and get out,” no money was wasted on frills, deluxe equipment, or polished roadbed. Swampers would first slash a rough path cross-country from the owner’s lumber tract to the nearest river if his logs were to be floated part of their journey by stream, or directly to his own mill, or to a rail junction where they could be transferred to an already established carrier to complete their trip.

Rails followed a path of least resistance, guided by the hastily scraped-up roadbed’s serpentine twisting and turning to take advantage of the land’s natural contours. Hills and extensive swamps were skirted when possible, to avoid expensive fills and steep grades. To cross a swamp, low log trestles were built to provide the track with a solid bottom instead of using earth fill, timber being cheaper than the cost of moving dirt. Many of Michigan’s vacationland hunting and fishing trails still in use today were built over all or part of some timber rail line.

Motive power, based upon modern standards, would be considered mediocre. Locomotives during the early period were bonnet stacks, burned slab wood for fuel, moved after dark to the feeble rays cast by oil headlamps, and hauled primitive four-wheel flatcars whose link-and-pin couplers exposed trainmen to an extra hazard. Lightweight rails, sometimes strap iron screwed to a wood base and set insecurely upon the rough railbed, made the journey into the woods comparable to a sea voyage.

Back in the forests, the trees were chopped down, trimmed of their branches and their trunks cut into suitable lengths. A log then was skidded through the brush by a team of horses or oxen to an opening where a set of big wheels could be driven over it. The log (two of three logs if they were small) would then be lifted and carried to a rail-side decking ground where a jamming crew loaded the log lengths on railroad cars. In winter the big wheels were supplanted by sleighs which carried the big piles of logs to the decking ground.

Loading cars of logs was described by Ferris E. Lewis in the December 1948 issue of Michigan History: “Short wooden pins were first driven into iron brackets on the side of the flatcars to keep the logs from falling off. Hooks, like ice tongs, each one at the end of a steel cable, were placed in the ends of a log. A little team of horses with muscles as hard as knots, at the command of a teamster who drove them without reins, would raise the log and wing it over the flatcar where it would be lowered gently into place. One by one the logs were loaded onto a car. A pyramid pile, placed lengthwise of the car, was thus built at each end. When a car was loaded, it would be moved away and a new one would take its place.

In later years, steam jammers replaced horse power, particularly among the larger operators. These were the conditions and the equipment used along one of the nation’s last frontiers to attack the final great stand of pine and hardwood timber remaining in Michigan as the 19^th century came to a close.

Besides increasing production, these railroads revolutionized the industry by making logging a year-around business. Owners found they no longer were dependent upon proper river levels for their log transportation, and cutting could continue around the calendar instead of just during the winter months. Some figures proving this accomplishment are cited in the book Lumber and Forestry Industry of the Northwest, for just three railroads—the Grand Rapids & Indiana, Flint and Pere Marquette, and Manistee & Grand Rapids. Each of these conducted a general freight and passenger business, although primarily engaged in timber hauling during the years cited.

Mills along the Grand Rapids & Indiana (now part of the Pennsylvania Railroad) manufactured 367,000,000 feet of lumber and 404,000,000 shingles in 1886, while the total output along this road, from construction to the first mill in 1865 to 1898, is estimated at 6,000,000,000 feet of lumber. Timber production on the old Flint & Pere Marquette (now part of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railway) totaled 5,000,000,000 between 1876 and 1896. The Manistee & Grand Rapids (later renamed the Michigan East & West and eventually abandoned) place 500,000,000 feet of pine and 1,000,000,000 feet of hardwood timber into Manistee sawmills for cutting in 1891. In the Cadillac region up near Grand Traverse Bay on Lake Michigan, it was not uncommon for a pine tree to yield three logs, each of which would reach across car sills set 30 to 33 feet apart.

Another distinction claimed by the Cadillac region in the logging transportation was the invention there of the narrow-gage Shay logging locomotive in 1873 or 1874, by Ephraim Shay. Slow but powerful, the Shay-engine had vertical pistons to operate the driving cranks, working a shaft geered to the motive wheels.

An account carried in The Cadillac Evening News said that Shay developed his locomotive to pull log cars from northwest of Cadillac to his sawmill at Haring. First made in Cadillac, its patents were later sold to the Lima Machine Works in Ohio, which manufactured it for use all over the world.

There is not a logging railroad, operating as such, remaining in the lower peninsula. In fact, their names even escape the memory of all but old timers. Mention the Lake County Railroad and among railroaders you would likely draw only blank looks. Or the Cadillac & Northwestern, Louis Sands’ Road, Nesson Lumber Company, Cody & Moore, Bear Lake & Eastern, or the Canfield Road—recalling only a few.

The logging railroad gave rise to few legends. It could not match the glamour attached to sawmill towns which grew and flourished beside tis tracks, nor could it furnish the rough color provided by the swift rivers with their tension-packed spring drives. Its mark upon the timber country, once painted briefly in bold outline, today has virtually disappeared. Traces, of course, can still be found in the old crumbling grades, winding unevenly across grassy plains and ridges pointing toward some distant banking ground. The old names, with some searching, can be found buried in official reports listing rail mergers and abandonment. But that about ends it. That and some faded photos, dim with age, gathering dust in old picture albums.

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Categories: Clare County, Harrison, History, logging, Michigan | Tags: clare, clare county, logging, Muskegon River, Railroad Magazine, Winfield Scott Gerrish | Leave a comment

‘Anatomy of a Shingle Mill’ by Roy Dodge

Posted on September 25, 2013 by martyjbird

Roy Dodge (1918 – 1978) was president of the Clare County (Michigan) Historical Society and an author of a number of books about Michigan, including “Ticket to Hell, A Sage of Michigan’s Bad Men” (out of print) and the three-volume “Ghost Towns of Michigan” series. Dodge also wrote a number of articles about

The Old Clare County Courthouse.

Clare County. One of them was called “Anatomy of a Shingle Mill” and its origin goes back to a discovery of some papers when the old Clare County Courthouse in Harrison was torn down in 1968.

The paper is enlightening as to life back in the late 1870s and early 1880s when all of Clare County was booming because of the lumber industry. The paper tells the story of Philip (U.S. Census records show name as Phillip) Cory who came to the area with nothing but an old horse and made his fortune making wooden shingles. Whether he kept it isn’t clear in the papers and neither is where his brothers came from who are mentioned. However, these are just minor details to a picture of a county a century ago. I’ll let Dodge tell the story from here.

Anatomy of a Shingle Mill 1887 – 93

by Roy L. Dodge (1968)

The story of two brothers who came to northern Michigan to make their fortune during the logging days of the late 1800s came to light when the 85-year old Court House at Harrison, Mich. was torn down in 1965. A box of dusty, yellowed records consisting, of ledgers, contracts, canceled checks and letters, all laboriously written in various colored ink with a goose quill pen, revealed the following story.

Harrison in the late 1880’s about the time Phillip Cory lived here. Structures in distance are sawmills around Budd Lake. Photo from the Harrison Public Library collection.

Philip Cory, address unknown, arrived at the company store of George B. Erenkbrook in the hamlet of Avondale, a few miles north of Evart in Osceola county, riding a tired old horse on the morning of Oct. 2, 1887 at the start of the winter logging season. His only possessions were the clothes on his back and his horse, which was of little value.

George Erenkbrook was a man experienced in every phase of the lumbering industry “from the stump up.” He was in his middle fifties, almost old enough to be young Cory’s father, and had lumbering interest both in lower Michigan and the Upper Peninsula. Erenkbrook was a partner in a shingle and sawmill located In Beechwood, Iron County, Michigan and owned his own mill and store at Avondale.

Cory explained to Erenkbrook that he intended to operate in the area as an independent logger, cutting his own shingle bolts, railroad ties, and any other type of timber in demand on a “piece work” basis.

His problem was that he was short on cash. Apparently he made a good impression on Erenkbrook, for upon leaving he was outfitted to begin his career as a woodsman and private contractor. He carried an invoice in his pocket for which he was billed for the following:

0ne cant hook, toe calks for his boots, files and rivets, two blocks of salt, axes, grub-hoe, swamp hook, neck yoke, sleigh bells, hammer, boring machine, one yoke of oxen, 3 pair wagon tongues, one sleigh, groceries and supplies totaling $36 and the “Diffarance”(sic) on a horse, $40.”

Cory worked hard and became a successful “jobber,” cutting logs and shingle bolts, which he sold to various mills in Missaukee and Osceola counties. He kept a meticulous record of all his expenditures, both business and personal, his stained and worn booklets disclose. Cory wasn’t satisfied with his lot as a common jobber, as later records reveal.

He soon traveled to other areas and began promoting a deal to set up his own mill.

During the next two years, his personal “Tally-book” lists expenditures for such items as one Turkey, strap and pack, $1.25. (Note: turkey was a pack in which lumberjacks carried their personal belongings.) One Rubber coat, $2.95; Shirt and Collar $1; roundtrip to Saginaw, $16.80.

During the month of July 1887, Cory bought a new straw hat for 75 cents; wrote a check for $5; bought another shirt for $1; “paid Mrs. Norman 75 cents for doing washing; and spent 50 cents attending two dances. His earnings for June and July totaled $177.50.

Philip Cory prospered during the winter logging season of 1887-1888. He also traveled extensively negotiating with companies in Saginaw, Grand Rapids and Muskegon for contracts to supply them with shingles and lumber products with intentions of setting up his own mill.

During a six-month period, he purchased a new suit of clothes for $30; tie and coat, $3.50; pair of dress shoes, $2; and made several trips. In Saginaw, he spent $23.50 for train fare, hotel and entertainment. He also made a “Trip north,” $54. A shirt, handkerchief and soap cost him $3.60. He spent $1 for medicine, made a trip to Six Lakes, cost $6; and railroad fare to Grand Rapids, $8. Total earning from June to December (1888), $343.82.

By the spring of 1889, Philip Cory had the groundwork laid for the big venture of his lifetime. He again visited Mr. Erenkbrook of Avondale who had outfitted him two years earlier to work in the woods, only this time Cory had a signed contract with the C. C. Follner & Co of Grand Rapids, Michigan to “Purchase the cut of Cory & Co. Shingle Mill at Hamilton Township, Michigan (ClareCounty) from July 1889 until two million are cut.”

This contract included specifications for various grades of White Pine and Cedar shingles to be “Well made from good sound timber, evenly jointed and smoothly sawed, free from shaky or rotten wood,” and “To be branded at the mill with C. C. Follner & Co. brand.” The contract also called for shingles to be piled and under cover, “As fast as cut at Mostettler’s Switch near Hatton Station.”

Mr. Erenkbrook, apparently pleased with the business acumen displayed by young Cory, put up a sum of money to organize the firm of “Cory Bros. & Co.,” with himself as chief stockholder, although his name didn’t appear on the first letterheads and invoices that Cory ordered from the printers.

Upon the assurances of Erenkbrook that a substantial sum would be deposited to the Cory Co. account at the L. Saviers Bank in Harrison, Mr. Cory made another trip, this one to Bailey, at that time a booming lumbering town in Muskegon County. There he visited a Mr. Jerome Bitely who had abandoned a steam operated shingle mill near Harrison and had moved to greener pastures.

Cory made an agreement with Bitely whereby he was to take possession of the machinery located in ClareCounty and move it to Dodge City in Hamilton Township. Cory made a deposit on the mill, giving his note due one year from date for a balance of $3,000. His next visit was to the L. J. Calkins’s Co., Dealer in Lumberman’s Supplies, of Harrison where he purchased the following materials:

10,700 ft. of Mud Sills
1-M posts
1,500 ft. beams
1,300 ft. rafters
4,300 ft. sheathing
2,300 ft. roof boards,
1-M ft. of Engine Board
23 hundred thousand shingles
14 windows
3,500 ft. of timbers for engine bed
2 sets of skylight
1,300 ft.Cedar beams
6 doors at $1.50 each
3,600 ft. flooring
50 barrel water tank
1,200 ft. bridge trusses
$12 for nails
labor for moving and setting up machinery. $500

Total Outlay: $1,134.85

Cory’s sawmill might have looked something like the sawmill in this photo from the Harrison Public Library collection.

During the next two years, things went well for the Cory Brothers, Philip, James and David. During the season of 1890, the Cory Mill grossed nearly $4,000 with expenditures of $2,500, which included their own wages as well as that of 50 mill workers and payment to private jobbers. It also included the payment of $12 paid to William H. Bryan of Gladwin, Grant Township. For that amount, Bryan agreed to sell to Cory Bros. all the Basswood, Ash, Oak, Hemlock and Pine lumber on lying, standing or being on a certain designated forty acres. “Said Wm. H. Bryan agrees to except (sic) and does hereby except (sic) $12 paid to him in hand today at Cory Bros. store for all the above described timber,” signed and dated March 8, 1889. (Note: Above document executed with red pencil on a jagged scrap of tablet paper.)

An idea of the cost of living during the years 1887 – 92 is shown in bills rendered to the company during this period. Some examples are as follows: Felts and rubbers (favorite footware of lumbermen), $3.50; shirts and drawers, $2.50; Pisas Cough Syrup, 10 cents per bottle; whiskey, 50 cents a pint. The blacksmith charged $1.20 for shoeing horses. Overalls were 75 cents a pair.

Horses brought premium prices and were considered more important than men. Cheap labor was plentiful while horses were scarce. Good teams ranged from $400 to $675 a span. A pair of calked drive shoes (for the front feet) cost $3 installed. An entry of Feb. 1889, reveals that one man and his wagon team were paid only $24 for eight days work. Wagons sold for $30. A set of heavy work harness for $12.

Misfortune struck the Cory mill on May 10, 1891 when it burned down to the ground. They were sued for unpaid bills, notes due and overdrawn checking accounts of banking accounts on banks in Grand Rapids, bay City and East Saginaw.

Mr. Erenkbrook of Avondale sold his interests there and moved to Beechwood, near Iron Mountain in the U. P. From there he wrote letters to friends asking them to keep tabs on the movements of the Cory brothers. He hired Henry Hart, a Midland attorney, to list their debts and assets and with a court order in an attempt to recover his interest in the enterprise.

Jerome Bitely of Bailey, Michigan, demanded, in no uncertain terms evidenced in a three-page letter with no punctuation marks, that he was about to attach the land upon which the burned out mill was located to satisfy the balance owed him for the original machinery. His letter read in part: “if you and Company had don as you ought it would have pade for it selfs several times over before this time…”

In the final accounting by attorney Hart, it was determined that the company’s assets amounted to nearly $12,000. This included $2,000 owed by the C. C. Follmer & Co. of Grand Rapids for singles and lumber ready for shipment on Mostettler’s Siding several miles from the burned out mill. Another $2,000 was owed to the company store. Other assets were horses, wagons and machinery not burned. A balance of $4,965.80 was left after debts to be divided between owners and debtors.

Mr. Bitely wrote his bill for machinery off as profit and loss. Cory hired A. W. Scoville, Attorney at Law, of Marion, Mich. to collect bills due him from the firm of Desmond Brothers of that town. Erenkbrook was forced to pay a $500 note due to C. H. Rose of Evart. Philip Cory, the former protégé of Erenkbrook, was allegedly overdrawn nearly $2,000 on various bank accounts where the firm conducted their business.

In a final letter postmarked Creston, Iowa, May 11, 1893 to Mr. P. Cory, Harrison, Mich. the firm of Maxwell & Winters , Lawyers, notified him that “On this day we have sent a draft for $436.30 to your attorney, Wm. H. Brown, drawn on Anchor Insurance Co. for your loss incurred when your shingle mill burned.”

Cory then rebuilt the mill and operated under the name of Cory & Hudson-Dealer in Shingles and Pine Lumber, Dodge City, Michigan.

There are some related incidents connected with the Cory Shingle Mill lawsuit, that although not proven definitely, court records and evidence point toward the following facts:

On or about the same date as the lawsuit, Mr. Mostettler who owned the storage sheds and the railroad siding where the Cory mill output was stored, committed suicide. Old timers in the Harrison area tell different stories of the incident, including Mr. Mostettler having had an affair with another woman, whereupon his wife shot him. But Mrs. Winifred Coveart, now 75, of Clare, Michigan, who lived at Dodge, said that Mr. Mostettler lost all of his money or was “tricked” out of it by some businessmen. He became despondent and one morning while his wife was out pumping a pail of water she heard a gun shot, ran in the house, and Mostettler laid on the bed, fully clothed and had shot himself in the head with a shotgun. Mostettler Rd., at the south city limits of Harrison, running east and west, was named after the above Mr. Mostettler.
Philip Cory refers in his notes and accounts that certain items were purchased for “Mother.” Apparently he was not married. However, in Clare county marriage records, a David E. Cory (one of his brothers) married Foslenia Hall on Sept. 18, 1889 at Coleman, Mich.

Editor’s Note: According to 1880 census records, Phillip (or Philip) Cory was born in 1852 in Ohio. That means he was about 30 when he came to Clare County. His father was Wyman Cory, born in England and mother was Sarah Kiger, born in Virginia. Philip married a woman named Ettie D. (although census records show a total of three different women as his wife over the decades) and had six children living in his home in 1900. in that year, Cory and his family had moved to Mansfield, Michigan in the Upper Peninsula, near the Wisconsin border. His children at the time were shown as: William, 18, John 16, Claude 13, James P. 11, Olga 5, Clare 4.

By 1910, he and his family had moved to Skagit, Washington. Phillip died July 22, 1919 at the age of approximately 67 years, and is buried near there.

In all the records, Cory described himself as a shingle manufacturer so it’s probable the family moved to follow the lumber industry and moved on once the lumber played out.

Categories: Clare County, Economy, Harrison, History, logging | Tags: clare, Claude Cory, Harrison, Olga Cory, Philip Cory, Phillip Cory, Roy Dodge, Skagit, Washington, William Cory | 2 Comments

Jim and Maggie: Disreputable, Despicable and Clare County’s Own

Posted on July 2, 2013 by martyjbird

The evil that men do live after them; the good is oft interred with their bones. Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Jim Carr and Maggie Duncan were evil, but for a few years their evil deeds made them two of the richest individuals in Clare County. When they died as paupers on straw mattresses on the frigid floor of a rundown shack in March 1892, few people shed tears upon hearing the news. If Shakespeare was right, the good they did—if any—is buried with them in their unmarked graves.

Here is a brief summary of two of the nastiest people ever to call Clare County home:

Jim Carr was born in Buffalo, NY about 1850 (1). After knocking around Toledo, Chicago and Eaton Rapids, Carr ended up in Clare County, where, in 1868, he started working for lumberman Winfield Scott Gerrish. Carr, according to an article in the Gladwin Record, was a well-built man, six-feet tall with a mustache covering a pleasant face and possessing a gentlemanly manner. At the same time, the writer aid there was an “air of danger” around him.

Not much is known of Duncan (2), but in her, Carr found a kindred spirit and in him, Duncan found a way out of poverty. So Duncan was with Carr in 1881 when he decided there was more money to be made from lumberjacks than lumbering and struck out and opened a business just outside of Harrison, a town recently hewed out of the forest and the Clare County seat.

One would have said Carr’s odds of success were slight. Although Harrison was growing fast and up to 20 trains a day rolled into town, it already had 20 saloons. Carr was not highly educated and could read but could not write. But if the old adage is true that the three most important factors in real estate are location, location, location, then he opened his Devil’s Ranch Stockade in the right place. The stockade was a two- or perhaps three-story saloon, hotel, gambling hall, brothel located on a hill just outside the town’s limits. When the city fathers had platted Harrison, they had determined the hill to be worthless and so didn’t include it within the town’s boundaries. That meant Carr were not under the town’s laws but only under the jurisdiction of the county sheriff, an individual Carr apparently came to own, if reports published in local papers were true. Plus, the hill meant the Carr’s place was visible to everyone coming into town. The promise of cheap booze, loose women, open gambling and few regulations made Carr’s place popular with lumberjacks who flocked there to do much as they pleased. For some lumberjack’s, Carr’s stockade was their first stop when they came to Harrison and their last–literally. The hill on which Carr’s place stood soon became known as Dead Man’s Hill because of the people Carr was reported to have killed and buried there.

This view of Harrison was probably taken about 1880-81 and would have been taken somewhere near the site of Carr's Devil's Ranch Stockade.

This view of Harrison (facing east) was probably taken about 1880-81. The photographer may have been standing somewhere near where Carr’s Devil’s Ranch Stockade was or would be.

The term “stockade” used to describe the ranch was literal and not figurative. The complex had a high fence around it meant to keep prying eyes out and the women that worked in the brothel in. While some women began prostitutes by choice, others were forced into the business. There is one story of a prostitute named Jenny Kinney (or King) who fled Carr’s stockade one winter night clad only in her after being beaten. She ran into town knocking on doors asking for shelter. When one family took her in, Duncan, a companion and a big dog appeared at the door demanding her return. The family refused to give her up. No one was ever charged.

While Carr ran the overall business focusing on the saloon, Duncan ran the brothel. She had experience with brothels (but then so did Carr for that matter, since that’s how the two seemed to have met). Anyway, it was a love and business partnership that seemed made in heaven–or hell. Duncan seems to have been Carr’s equal in every way with a love of vices and strong drink and a reputation for cruelty. Their Harrison business proved so successful that they even expanded and opened a second establishment in the then growing town of Meredith, some 10 miles to the northeast and in the center of some 50 logging camps.

Carr made a profitable living (or perhaps killing) off lumberjacks. The ranch was big enough to fit up to 250 – 300 men at a time, most of them at the bar drinking Carr’s beer and rot-gut whiskey. There was so much money that instead of cash registers, Carr’s place had buckets for the men to throw their money in for their drinks. When the buckets were full, they were carried to Carr’s office for emptying and counting. Carr also advanced lumberjacks credit in exchange for their time tickets, which he discounted 25 – 50 percent. (Some lumberjacks were not paid until logs they had cut were delivered to the sawmill in the spring, so to reflect their earnings, the men were given “time tickets.” These were redeemable by bearer for cash in the full amount.) Carr was not above adding to his earnings by robbing drunken lumberjacks or those he and his cronies drugged. This also proved lucrative since the men carried all their earnings–sometimes for an entire logging season–on their person.

Carr’s unsavory and illegal activities were apparently well known and the subject of numerous stories and editorials in the local press (although one paper defended him by saying that men like Carr were “a necessary evil” in growing towns). And that’s not to say Carr wasn’t arrested. At one time when asked how many times he had been arrested, he claimed it was so many times he couldn’t remember. However, being arrested was one thing, being convicted was another. Witnesses were often too afraid to appear in court, were paid off, disappeared, or Carr simply paid a fine.

However, when Frankie Osborne, a prostitute popular with the lumberjacks died in Carr’s employ in 1885 that Carr’s and Duncan’s life began to start unraveling. It was also around this time a new sheriff was elected that was not under Carr’s control and a new prosecutor named W.A. Buritt decided to rid the county of Carr.

Osborne’s death was due to a beating and at Carr’s hand. Initially, Carr wasn’t too worried about being arrested in Osborne’s death. When he was indicted for her murder, it’s reported he laughed and said, “Is that all?” and prepared to leave the courtroom. Instead, the judge ordered him to jail to stand trial. Carr was found guilty of the murder and sentenced to 15 years.

Carr was freed by the Michigan Supreme Court after a year in prison (although the Court stated Carr’s conviction was improper, it did state he was a very depraved individual). Duncan was also freed about that time from the Detroit House of Correction after a conviction for running a house of ill repute. The two began their businesses again, although Buritt was not done with Carr. Although Carr had beaten the murder rap, Buritt brought Carr up for trial, this time on charges he burned a James Silkworth’s establishment at Frostd in 1884. Although Carr again beat these charges, the continuing legal costs had taken much of his fortune. In addition, most of white pine in Clare County had been cut by this time and the lumberjacks had moved on to new territories. Fewer customers, a population increasingly intolerant of Carr’s activities and increased raids on his establishments meant fewer profits.

Carr and Duncan apparently abandoned their place in Harrison but continued to run a brothel in Meredith. In a burst of imagination and to try to avoid the law, it is said Carr put the building on skids. Either that or put it on a railroad car. Since Meredith was on the Clare/Gladwin County line, Carr would simply move the building between counties whenever things in one county got too hot for him. Whether one story or the other is true isn’t known but the legend has grown with time. In any event, the building, wherever it was located, eventually burned to the ground leaving the two without regular income.

Carr and Duncan remained in Clare County. Why they didn’t move on with the lumberjacks and resurrect their fortunes in a new place isn’t known. Maybe they were broke. Maybe their alcoholism had so taken its toll they no longer had the inclination to start over. In any event, it appears Duncan resorted to her old trade to get the two of them money for liquor. If nothing else, she remained loyal to the end.

That end came in March 1892, when Carr died next to Duncan in a freezing shack outside Meredith. According to some accounts published years later, Carr and Duncan died together and were buried by lumberjacks on land outside a cemetery since no minister would officiate and no cemetery would take them. Other accounts say Carr was buried near the shack, his body dug up sometime later by the county undertaker and buried in a local cemetery. Duncan who did not die that same night as Carr was sent to the county poorhouse where it is said she died some months later.

When Carr died, he was just 42 (although other records say 37). Duncan’s age isn’t known but going by jail records, she was about 33.

Carr’s story (and to a lesser extent Duncan’s) is told in three books:

Michigan’s Timber Battleground, by Forrest Meek
Michigan Rogues, Desperados, Cut-throats by Tom Powers
Ticket to Hell: A Saga of Michigan’s Bad Men, by Roy Dodge (out of print)

There is also an in-depth article by David McMacken that appeared in the Summer 1971 issue of Michigan Living magazine (Volume 55. No. 2).

Portion of jail record showing Carr’s name and some information including what is termed his “social condition.”

(1) Some records indicate Carr was born in 1855, but records from the county jail at the Clare County Historical Museum show that he was born in 1850. Records at Ancestry.com also show he was born about 1850. The records show Carr was the second person held in what was then the new jail. He was held there on the charge of arson (possibly related to the burning rival James Silkworth’s place in 1884). The jail records state Carr stood 5 feet 10 inches and weighed 175 pounds. He was fair-haired and had blue eyes.

Maggie Carr/Duncan’s name appears when she was put in jail in April 1886 on the charge of keeping a house of ill-fame.

(2) County jail records also shows Maggie Carr/Duncan was also arrested and held in the jail on the charge of “running a house of ill-fame.” The records show Carr/Duncan was 27 at the time of her arrest, which meant she was born about 1859. She was 5 feet 3 inches tall and weighed 130 pounds and could neither read nor write. The record also shows that she like Carr was born in Rochester, New York so it’s possible that she knew Carr or his family in her youth, or that common thread was one of the things that brought the two together.

Note: No known photographs of Jim Carr or Maggie Duncan/Carr are known to exist. This post originally had photos of two individuals that appeared in “Frankie and the Barons” by Stuart Gross and “Michigan Rogues, Desperadoes and Cut-Throats” by Tom Powers that were identified as Carr and Duncan but no documentation exists. See my blog post on the topic of the photos entitled “Take Old Time Photos with a Grain of Salt.”

Categories: Clare County, Gladwin, Harrison, History, logging, Michigan | Tags: Carr, Clare County Michigan, Devil's Ranch, Harrison, Jim Carr, Maggie Duncan, Meredith, W.A. Buritt, white slavery, Winfield Scott Gerrish | Leave a comment

Putting a Face to History

Posted on June 26, 2013 by martyjbird

One of the amazing things about historical research is that it can get personal. That’s personal as in meeting people and not just learning facts and figures. Another amazing thing is how one bit of research can branch off and head in another totally unintended yet fulfilling direction.

Take the Root family of Hatton, Michigan. T hey were the subject of a blog post a couple of weeks ago that sought to connect the now dead Clare County town of Hatton and two Root children buried in the township cemetery. The two died several years apart before the turn of the 20th century during a time when Hatton itself was dying. The town died because the lumber industry that had sparked its birth and life was over and most of the town’s 200 residents had moved on, including Chancey and Charity Root, parents of the two deceased children.

I visited the kids’ graves earlier this year and became curious why the parents were not buried near their children in the family plot. A huge stone with the word “Root” carved on it seemed to indicate would be the final resting place of the entire Root family.

In the course of my research, I contacted Virginia Braun, my mother-in-law and a gifted genealogist to see if she could tell me what happened to the two elder Roots. She immediately wrote back recommending I visit “Find A Grave (findagrave.com). It was there she had found the Roots’ finally resting place in a cemetery in nearby Gladwin County. Even better, she found photos and a family contact.

So I emailed that contact who was also the source of the Root family material. The contact, Ken, wrote back immediately, providing death certificates for the two Root children along with additional photos of the parents, Chancey and Charity Root some of which are shown below. (It also appears Chancey was married before but not sure if that union resulted in children or how long it lasted.)

From a few of the photos I saw, Chancey looked happy or at least (as in the photo at left) had a gleam in his eye. None of the photos shows his wife smiling. Not sure why. For sure, a woman’s life had to be hard, especially she was generally tasked with all the housechores, and they had to be many given she was raising and cooking for what might have been a family of 12. Adding to her sadness was the fact that at least two of their children died at young ages.

During our emails back and forth, Ken did ask something of me: He wanted to know if I could find out any information on a Delbert Root and whether a tombstone in the Hatton cemetery inscribed with the letters DEL might be the gravestone of Delbert.

I again turned to my mother-in-law who found a Delbert on the 1910 census when he was 16 and still living at home, which was now in the northeast corner of Clare County, near Gladwin County. Virginia also told me about Rootsweb (www.rootsweb.ancestry.com), part of Ancestry.com, saying that was another wonderful free source. (The fact that both the family and the Website share the same name is a coincidence.)

She added that she did not find a Social Security death record for Delbert. “Looks like he didn’t marry and no one filed for his death benefit,” she wrote. So it’s possible he died young. Because the stone in the photo is not in the Root family plot, I doubt the grave belonged to Delbert Root, but until evidence is found elsewhere, it’s difficult to say where Delbert is and who DEL was.

As for Chancey and Charity, may they rest in peace. Delbert? The search continues. And who knows who might help me this time around and where that help may come from?

Categories: Clare County, History, Home life, Life, logging, recreation, Travel and tourism | Tags: chancy root, charity root, clare county, Delbert Root, hatton, logging | 3 Comments

New Railroad Kiosk at Mid Michigan Community College

Posted on May 16, 2013 by martyjbird

The following is a press release I wrote concerning a new kiosk installed on the grounds of the college’s Harrison campus, near an old railroad bed that is now part of a trail system.

Coming out on a rainy May morning to take part in the dedication of the kiosk were (l-r) Joe Bradley, Carron Nevill, Cindy Mussell and Andy Coulson. Cindy is with the Mid-Michigan College Foundation and the others are part of the Clare County Historical Society.

A railroad once ran through it–Mid-Michigan Community College, that is. During the latter part of the 19^th century, steam locomotives once regularly hauled men and materials from Clare into the then booming town of Dodge and back south carrying lumber destined for Midwest cities. Although the rails were pulled up when the lumber played out, the grade on which the trains ran can still be seen on Mid-Michigan’s Harrison campus and some of it has been incorporated into the college’s walking trails. But many who walk those trails may not know about the history under their feet–until now.

Thanks for a new kiosk on school grounds dedicated on May 10, tourists and residents will now have the opportunity to learn more about Clare’s fascinating past while getting some exercise. The kiosk is a joint project of the college, Clare County Historical Society and Friends of Clare County Parks & Recreation.

“We’re always looking for a way to encourage people to take advantage of our trails, so when the Clare Historical Society and Friends approached us about a joint venture, we quickly agreed,” said Matt Miller, VP of Student and Community Relations. “We’ve got beautiful scenery around and above us, now we’re giving people a reason to better appreciate what’s under their feet.”

Map of the college. Green lines represent remnants of old railroad beds on college property.

According to Joe Bradley, CCHS President, Clare County has more than 300 miles of railroad grades, which puts the county near the top in mileage in the state. And while most of the railroads were narrow gauged temporary railroads that existed only to haul trees out of a section of forest, a number of them were standard gauge tracks like these that had full size trains. “Once the trees were all cut the economy tanked so the railroads just pulled up stakes—literally—and rails and moved out. Now only the grades remain.” Bradley added that most of the grades are deep in the woods on state land or on private lands. Only a few are easy to walk with this being one of them. “We’re happy to partner with the college and Friends on this venture. We see it as another way to tell the exciting story of Clare’s history,” Bradley said.

This 1886 map shows some of the major railroad lines in the county. The railroad bed through the college grounds is near the “R” in Clare.

Gerry Schmiedeke said his group got involved because Friends sees this as another way to get residents active and promote the many recreational opportunities the county has available. “Many just think of the Pere Marquette rail-trail [the trail runs through the southern portion of ClareCounty] as only rail-oriented pathway in the county. Now we have two completely different experiences to offer,” Schmedieke said. “And as funding in the public sector dries up, public private partnerships in support of parks and recreation become more important.”

So whether you interest in railroading, history or just a quiet walk in the woods, MMCC is the place for you. And stop by the new kiosk before you head out to see the maps, photos and to read about the history. The Railroad kiosk is located just inside the gate at the south (Mannsiding) entrance to the college.

Mid Michigan Community College provides post-secondary education and services to enable students to succeed in a global society and also seeks to partners with its community for the benefit of its members. Learn more at midmich.edu or on its Facebook page.

The Clare County Historical Society has a museum complex at the corner of Dover and Eberhart roads that is open every Saturday through Oct. from 1 – 4 p.m. Learn more at clarecountyhistory.org to on its Facebook page.

Friends of ClareCountyParks and Recreation is an independent non-profit agency that works closely with Clare County Parks & Recreation Commission to improve recreational resources throughout the county. Learn more at clarecountyrecreation.org or on its Facebook page.

Categories: Clare County, Harrison, History, logging | Tags: clare, Clare County Historical Society, Clare County Michigan, Harrison, Mid-Michigan Community College | Leave a comment

Meredith: Wonder of the North Woods (Back in 1884, Anyway)

Posted on April 26, 2013 by martyjbird

1886 railroad map showing Meredith in NE corner of the county

There may have been towns during Michigan’s lumbering era that had uglier reputations than Meredith, but I’ve not heard of any. While the town in the northeast corner of Clare County was created to serve the thousands of lumberjacks who worked in nearby camps with essentials like food and clothing; it flourished by providing those men with booze and women.

It was a town that lacked

Plat map of Meredith from about 1906

for little—except maybe a church and a sheriff (the former burned and the town wouldn’t finance the latter). Meredith also had Jim Carr and Maggie Duncan, two of the worst human beings ever to set foot in Clare–or any county–for that matter. Carr and Duncan trafficked in every vice known to man including white slavery, robbery, arson and even murder. (I plan an article on them in an upcoming post.)

It’s hard given the town’s evil reputation that it was once called the “wonder of the north woods,” the “great city of the day” and “a marvel,” all these in an article in the Gladwin Record in March 1884. That’s when 18 visitors from Gladwin traveled into through what was then wilderness to visit the town.

The visitors returned with a glowing report. However, whatever good they saw in Meredith disappeared not long afterward, and remains long buried. But here is a look at the town as it was once seen. (Note: I left the grammar as it was in the original article that can be found on microfilm at the State of Michigan’s library in Lansing. Spaces or question marks show where I could not read the text.)

A Visit to the City in the Forest, the Wonder of the North Woods

In company with a jolly party of 18 people (babies included) the editor of the Record visited the far famed city of the north, known as Meredith, this week. Starting from our thriving village, passing through the settled country containing flourishing farms etc, for about 4 miles north on the Midland and Houghton Lake state road, we are amidst the monarchs of the forest.

Eleven miles farther we go without passing even the cabin of a settler—all to relieve the monotony being the camps of Rust, Eaton & Co, about midway, where 40 men are employed and huge rollways of logs are seen on the north branch of the Cedar near by. The trees were crested with flakes of “beautiful snow” which rendered the scene exceedingly picturesque. The timber passed is pine, hemlock and hardwood, in some parts being intermingled and in others pine or hemlock towering majestically on either hand. There are excellent openings for saw and shingle mills and a tannery in this locality would find an excellent outlook. A large part of the way is what is known as “stripped lands,” the pine timber having been cut. Where visible the soil seemed to be a good rich clay, and from the variety of growing timber we judge that the thousands of acres of wilderness are capable of being made into beautiful farms, and are many years pass we predict that the axe of the settler will resound throughout the forest where now deer and other fierce residents thereof roam.

But at length we arrive at the far-famed city afore mentioned,
MEREDITH!
And we are in the great city of the day. Behold its fine large hotel and numerous business houses where but a few short weeks since all was wilderness. Everything about Meredith is new, neat and thriving, except for her streets—and they still appear in their primeval state, brush, trees and logs appearing on all sides, but this difficulty will be overcome soon aster the season opens up. Our party put up at the
CORRIGAN HOUSE

1885_Meredith_Corrigan House_Depot-small

This map shows the location of the Corrigan House and Meredith Depot. The depot would have been on the south side of Meredith Grade. The accuracy of the map is assumed but cannot be verified.

The large and excellently equipped hotel recently opened to the public by Thomas J. McClennan of Bay City, the found of the town. The house is furnished in a _________ that would do credit to a good sized city of several thousand people. The house is 40 feet by 105 feet, 3-stories high. On the first floor is the sitting room, office, washes room, bar room, dining room and kitchen. The second story has an elegantly furnished ladies’ sitting room and in the two upper stories we find 14 single bed rooms and 11 double rooms, besides rooms for help. Arthur Meyer, late of Alma, has charge of the house, and to him we are indebted for courtesies extended in showing us through the apartments. He is the “right man in the right place.” Our party partook of dinner, served in a sumptuous manner, which we pronounced a No. 1. To enumerate(?) this bill of fare would be difficult. We counted upwards of 40 at dinner, besides a greatly number who partook afterwards. Mr. Mayer informed us that the hotel was doing a flourishing business steadily. Although it was Sunday, the bar was open and liquor flowed freely as water being partaken of by large numbers of wayfarers(?) who had gathered from the surrounding camps. However, all was quiet and we failed to notice an uncivil act.

Our day was limited, in the time we took to look over the town, however, and with the assistance of our friend “Joe the barber” the following list of
BUSINESS ENTERPRISES
was prepared:
S & C.C. R.R. depot
Reardor’s Bro’s, general store
Alex Rail restaurant
Billy Jose, Meat market
Roche & McKenna, drugstore
Hotel – Corrigan House
___________, Butcher Shop
McClennan & Stephens, billiard hall
Haiey & Covert, drug store, in which store upstairs is located:
Joe Hatfleld’s(?) barber shop
Dr. Tibbles’ office
Dr. Keating veterinary hospital and harness shop

These named being on one side of the street and the following on the other:
Alex. Andrews, grocery store
City bakery
Livery stable of _______ Frank
Searn & Co., hardware store and postoffice
__________ Maybee, general store
Millinery establishment
Sandy Marshall, wagon shop
Clason(?) & Avery, livery

Besides the above, we notice quite a few dwellings and a number of buildings in the process of erection.
LOCATION AND FUTURE PROSPECTS
The village is located on the line of Gladwin County on section 13, town 20 north, range 11 west, and is the terminus of the Saginaw and Clare County railroad. It is 15 miles northeast of Harrison and about 15 miles northwesterly of this place. The village was platted in December last by T. J. McClennan, of Bay City, who has a stand of pine nearby, where he now has 40 men at work cutting and skidding. A large lumber district surrounds the village and so long as the lumbering continues so does a lively business from this point. Considering the rapid growth of the place, it is a marvel. We trust that it might continue to thrive and we see nothing to hinder if steps are taken to secure the permanent development of the country surrounding, with the aid of manufacturing enterprises and settlers.

The article turned out to be very wrong. By 1893, the town was in a fast decline. The lumber was all cut, Carr and Duncan were dead, and the railroad gone. In 1895, the post office closed and in 1896, a fire tore through the town destroying most of what remained.

There is little visible from Meredith’s past that would indicate that it once had nearly 2,000 part-time and 500 full-time residents, and was a big enough town to have such things as a roundhouse for trains, a city hall, an opera house that seated 700 and a three-story school. There are a couple of cemeteries, but they are on private property. The township hall was once an old church, and I’ve read that once the town burned, residents from other areas came to scavenge the bricks and rocks for their buildings.

There is a drive-in movie screen from a failed attempt at providing residents and visitors with entertainment and a nice corner store with a helpful clerk/owner. The store is not the remains of the railroad

County store at corner of M-18 and Meredith Grade Rd.

depot.

Categories: Clare County, Gladwin, History, logging, Michigan, recreation | Tags: clare, Gladwin, logging, lumbering, Meredith | 8 Comments

An Embankment is NOT a Trestle

Posted on February 24, 2013 by martyjbird

I have noted a number of impressive railroad beds in Clare County, Michigan that were built in the 1870s and 1880s when logging was a major industry and the economy was booming. People were streaming into the county and lumber was being transported out and railroads were the travel method of choice.

One thing about trains. They don’t like hills or valleys. The more level the ground, the easier it is for them to run and stop safely. According to a few websites such as railfan.net, most mainline railroads won’t exceed a 2% incline, although some logging railroads can go as much as 5-6%. Whatever the maximum incline allowed, the railroads hired crews–often immigrants–to do the hard work of constructing the beds, filling in low spots and digging out high spots.

There were a couple of methods railroads employed to creat a railroad bed in a valley or across water. One way was to create a wooden trestle with logs that were simply laid in a criss-cross pattern. This kind of trestle could be quickly constructed and at low cost since the majority of the materals needed in the construction cou were all around them. The photo at left shows one built by Gerrish for his logging railroad.

A second way was to build a regular trestle of logs and boards. While this type of construction may have been used in Clare County, no evidence remains that I am aware of, although evidence can be found in Gladwin County near House Lake Ste Forest Campground.

Another way and the cheapest, was to simply use fill dirt from the surrounding countryside to build low areas up to the elevation needed to build the track. One can still see today evidence of where workers dug the fill they needed to build up the railroad bed. In the northern section of the county, the work was relatively easy since much of the ground was sandy soil. Of course, easy is a relative term. The crews still had to deal with heat, mosquitoes, rocks, roots, accidents, long hours of back-breaking work, little pay and no benefits.

Because much of Clare County is fairly level, most areas did not require a great deal of fill. One of those spots that did is in Harrison where the builders had to construct a bed nearly 30 feet above the surrounding countryside. How exactly this was done is not known, although one would think the fill was brought in by railcar and dumped and then the tracks extended upon the bed as work proceeded.

In other posts, I have called this type of work a “trestle,” since the term fit, to me at least. However, local historian Cody Beemer who also owns Beemer Sand & Gravel Excavating in Harrison and knows about such things took issue (in a nice way) with my use of the word. His comments sent me to the dictionary and the Internet, and (sigh) I found he was right.

According to Wikipedia and other sources, trestles by their very nature contain piers to support whatever is above them. And that means they need to be built of something other than earth. In the 18th and 19th centuries, wood and iron were the materials of choice. In the 20th century steel was used and continues to be used today.

So what are these types of railroad beds called? For that answer, I turned to the National Railway Historical Society in Philadelphia. I sent them an email and received a quick response from L. J. Dean, a NRHS Library Volunteer who emailed me. “If these are earthen structures higher than the surrounding country, the most commonly used term would be embankment,” he wrote. “The term fill is also often used, but less likely to be familiar to the general public.”

Now embankment isn’t an exciting way to describe what we have in Clare County. I would have preferred earthen trestle, but I DO try to be factual in what I write, so embankment it will be from now on, especially since embankment beats using the word fill in my book.

One more thing I learned from looking things up: The difference between a trestle and a bridge.

According to a railroader on a Yahoo answer site, (and I quote since I don’t honestly understand it all), “In typical bridge construction, you will have piers or bents that support the longitudinal, moment carrying members which are usually called beams, girders, joists or stringers depending on the layout and material used. The piers and bents will typically be constructed only in the plane transverse to traffic and will not have connection from one substructure (pier) unit to the next.

“A railroad trestle will be comprised entirely of wood and one bent or pier will be dependent on the next with longitudinal and diagonal bracing to support the longitudinal loads. There will be no clear spans between piers. In other words, in a trestle, all of the piers work together while in typical bridge construction, each of the piers will carry load independently.”

So, now you know…well, sorta.

Categories: Clare County, Gladwin, Harrison, History, logging, Michigan, Travel and tourism | Tags: clare, Clare County Michigan, embankment, Gladwin county Michigan, National Railway Historical Society, Trestle | 2 Comments