This is a rare photograph of the Fairy Arch. Most pictures of it left today are drawings.
One of the popular attractions on Mackinac Island is the Arch Rock. This beautiful limestone formation is seen by most visitors to the Island, but at one time, there was another limestone arch formation called the “Fairy Arch.”
The Fairy Arch was one of the Island’s must-see attractions and countless visitors would make the trek out to view it. It was located on the east side of the Island near Mission Point Resort and Robinson’s Folly. Though not as large as Arch Rock, it created a limestone tunnel that could be walked through creating a magical experience.
The Native Americans believed that giant fairies inhabited the east part of the island. The arches were how the fairies entered the Island. Fairy arch was for the fairy children while Arch Rock was where the adult giant fairies entered. They must have been really big fairies. Fairy Arch was one of the many breathtaking sites on Mackinac Island.
In the 1940s, the Fairy Arch was demolished. One source says it was destroyed for an environmental mitigation project while others say it was due to construction of a road to a private residence resulted in the arch being destroyed. It was a stupid shortsighted project in a place where roads aren’t really needed.
The Fairy Arch, unfortunately this did not survive into the modern day.
The Norrie Mine was one of the prominent mines at Ironwood.
I received a few historical pictures from Ironwood. I wanted to pass them along as it has been difficult for me to find pictures from the west end of the Upper Peninsula. Above is the Norrie Mine. It was the first mine in Ironwood. Named after A. Lanfear Norrie, an explorer leading an expedition looking for iron, he found it. They sank a mine which was named after the discoverer and it became an extremely successful operation.
This old stereoview shows the view of Ironwood from the Norrie Mine.
Ironwood began as the camp for Norrie’s expedition. The foreman of the expedition was named Captain James Wood, nicknamed “Iron,” would receive the honor of the new settlement’s name, Ironwood. The town would soon prosper with mining operations springing up all around.
The view of Ironwood from the Ashland Mine. The city was growing quickly.
Ironwood grew fast. Looking closely at the photo above, several mine shafts can be seen on the horizon. The city is growing and the mines are running at full production. Almost all of the trees are gone. This was the beginning of what would be known as the Gogebic Iron Range. It would give life to communities all around, thriving off of iron mines. There were even attempts at gold and silver mining. Some did well with it while others did not.
This picture is titled “White Way” and shows downtown Ironwood at night in the early 1900s.
To this day Ironwood is a nice town to spend some time in. Much of it still has its turn of the century feel and remnants of its prosperous and historical past is represented all around.
Ironwood downtown today as the sun sets for evening.
Author’s Note: From the files of the odd, strange, and curious, this is a story that first appeared in Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers by Richard M. Dorson. I thought it would be an ideal tale to repeat for the month of October. Captain Trudell and his crew of life savers built a reputation as one of the finest crews on the Great Lakes. Heroic rescues were their stock in trade.
A postcard of the Grand Marais Life Saving Crew under the leadership of Captain Benjamin Trudell.
Captain Benjamin Trudell was the Captain of the Grand Marais Life Saving Station. Having participated in many daring rescues, Trudell kept a secret through the years. Captain Trudell makes a confession, “If there is any event of importance happening, I dream about it in advance. I always have. My mother was the same way. She told me I would be gifted with unusual things. Anything important in my work, in my business, I dream of and when it happens the next morning, I remember it. It’s not exactly the same, you know, but the conditions are similar.
“During my second year in the Life Saving Service, in 1892, I was stationed at Deer Park (a ghost town east of Grand Marais). I was called to go on watch at 12 o’clock midnight, so I went to bed and slept from eight till twelve, and the dream happened at the very time a sinking was going on.
“I dreamed I met a man on the beach, coming towards me. He appeared to be an acquaintance, yet I was doubtful as he got nearer. He was very nicely, finely dressed. As I approached him, he held out his hand to shake hands, but his hand was cold and clammy, and I couldn’t hold the grasp. Then he turned and walked towards the water and dissolved into the surf.
” I was awakened standing in the middle of the dormitory, wet with perspiration. The relief watch was holding a lighted lantern up to my face. asking, ‘What is the matter?’
Next Day Tragedy
“That morning at the breakfast table, seven of us were messing together, and I recited the dream to them. They laughed at me, but I said, ‘Watch out.’ As the day wore on and nothing happened, they all began to make fun of me, even the Captain.
“It was blowing a three-day gale, with high seas from the north-west. About two o’clock that afternoon a man stumbled into the station, stating he had been on a wreck and had been washed ashore, the only survivor. Not knowing the direction of any town he followed along the beach until he arrived at Deer Park Life Saving Station. I was called to take the beach patrol west, and I was the first one ashore. There was the body of a man lying on his face, stretched out. He was finely dressed, and appeared to be an aristocrat. As we rolled him over, his hand flipped over and struck mine. And I saw he was the man of my dream. The resemblance was very noticeable. He had a mustache, but no chin whiskers. His clothes were not wet in the dream, though.
“He was Peter G. Minch, millionaire owner of the Western Reserve, the first steel ship to go down in the lakes.
Sinking of the Western Reserve
” The Western Reserve was the flagship of the Minch fleet of fourteen cargo vessels, a record-breaking three-hundred footer. On this trip Peter Minch was taking his family pleasure sailing from the Soo to Two Harbors, Minnesota, there to load up with ore. Proud in the strength of his ship, he sailed beyond Whitefish Point and Point Iroquois into the storm, against the advice of Captain Albert Meyers. The decks buckled before the gale, and about nine o’clock, the evening of April 30th, the steel freighter split in two. Passengers and crew scrambled into a metallic lifeboat and a yawl, and when the lifeboat capsized, all cambered into the yawl. A steamer passed to the west and the huddled group tried to burn a shawl as a signal, without success. The yawl coasted from this point, about twenty-five miles north of Grand Marais, until seven-twenty the following morning, when it overturned in the surf, some fifteen miles west of Deer Park and the Life Saving Station. All the occupants were drowned except the wheelman, Harry Stewart, who snatched a life preserver and made shore at Lonesome Point. It was Stewart, ( a cousin of Trudell) who lurched into the station bringing news of the wreck.
A rare photo of the Ropes Gold Mine near Negaunee. This was taken 1860s near its beginning.
Over the last couple of months, I’ve come across some really nice mining pictures. I thought I would post them up for everyone to check out. The picture above is of the Ropes Gold Mine which was located north of Negaunee and Ishpeming. The mine was established in 1881 by Julius Ropes and produced consistent quantities of gold until 1897. It was reopened for a few years in the 1980s. News of the Ropes opening prompted a gold rush to Ishpeming. Suddenly there was no less than 13 gold mines in the surrounding area all producing some gold and silver.
The Ohio Iron Mine
This is a picture of the crew of the Ohio Iron Mine near Michigamme.
The iron range of the Marquette region was full of iron mines. Dozens of them operated west of Marquette nearly the entire distance to L’Anse. The Ohio Mine was one of them and was west of Michigamme. It opened in 1907 and operated for 7 years. It produced low grade ore and wasn’t profitable. The picture shows the mining crew of the Ohio. No shortage of man power here. This has to be close to 1914 when the mine shut down. It was briefly reopened in the 1950s as an open pit mine by Cleveland Cliffs International (CCI).
New York Mine
This is the interior of the New York Iron Mine located near Ishpeming.
The New York Mine was a hematite operation. Beginning in 1864, the New York produced high grade hematite iron ore. Located in Ishpeming, it was part of the iron boom that fueled the entire region. It gave out in 1919. The New York lasted longer than many mining operations and provided the raw materials for the industrial revolution. The picture shows the interior of the New York Mine in its early days of 1870.
Lake Superior Iron Mine
A small iron mining operation. The location and name is unknown.
Iron mining was prevalent throughout the central and western Upper Peninsula. Small companies started up and then crashed as quickly while other companies flourished with the rich deposits iron. This picture shows one of those small operations. Labeled simply as “Lake Superior Iron Mining,” it is an unknown digging probably somewhere around Ishpeming or Negaunee. Though they are hard to see, there are four miners in the background of the photo. Piles of ore and the mine entrance can be clearly seen. Mining was rough, hard and dangerous work.
Victoria Copper Mine
Riding the Rock Skip. The mining company warned men against doing this and taking ladders instead, but it was a common practice anyway.
Victoria is a copper mining ghost town near Rockland. It can still be visited today. The Victoria Mine was notorious for its safety problems, injuries and death were common. The picture, “riding the skip cart,” shows one of the miners going down into the shaft doing something that was against company rules. It was simply quicker and a couple of fatalities resulted from this. Victoria mine operated for nearly 50 years and was a solid copper producer.
This is a bird’s eye view of Calumet during its heyday.
A Capitol Decision
During the Year, I make quite a few personal appearances at events. I enjoy talking to people and I’m often asked historical questions. Over the years many erroneous stories about the Upper Peninsula have circulated and somehow stuck becoming U.P. myths. One of these stories I hear frequently, is that Calumet was once considered for Michigan’s Capitol. It was not.
In 1847, when the capitol was designated in Lansing, the village that would become Calumet, Red Jacket, didn’t exist yet. The capitol was moved from Detroit because of a fear of military capture. Detroit, the current capitol, was taken by the British in the war of 1812. Some feared it could happen again.
Since Detroit laid on the border of Canada, it was decided that maybe a more central location in the state was advisable. Also growing settlements on the west side of Michigan was pushing for a closer location. Candidates were Ann Arbor, Grand Rapids, Marshall, and Jackson. Lansing was picked because it was central to all of them, the Lansing area was nearly uninhabited at the time. So was the Upper Peninsula except for the Native Americans.
Calumet Wasn’t Born Yet
A couple from Red Jacket taken in the late 1800s.
Mineral rights were achieved in the U.P. with a treaty in 1843 with central and western Upper Peninsula Native Americans for mineral rights within those regions. This heralded the beginning of the copper boom.
Founded on the rising tide of copper mining, the city that would become Calumet, Red Jacket, became officially a town in 1864, almost 20 years after the capitol was chosen. It’s twin city Laurium, was originally called Calumet. Confusing I know. It became Laurium in 1895, and Red Jacket became Calumet in 1929. Though copper was being unearthed in the Keweenaw, its production was hindered until 1855 when the Soo Locks were opened. Settlements across the peninsula were few and far between until the 1850s. Again, all taking place after the capitol was moved to Lansing. At that time Calumet was but a glimmer in history’s eye.
This old picture from Crystal Falls shows the horse drawn winter delivery sleigh. The Neboshshon Dairy operated around 1900. The advertising on the side says “All cows tuberculum tested annually.” It’s Ayershire Milk is “Clean milk for clean people, good milk for good babies.” The delivery man is unidentified and the same for the photographer.
A group sits around the campfire at Big Manistique Lake in Curtis, MI
Camping at Big Manistique Lake in 1873 – Curtis, MI
These people look like they are having a great time. This picture was dated 1873 and labeled that it was taken at Curtis on Big Manistique Lake. As to who these folks are? Nothing is said. On the left is a Native American family. One guy is holding a trout creel and his fish net is on his back. Another is smoking a long pipe while a guitar player strums a few tunes. The outdoors clothing shows the period perfectly. This is a gem and probably one of a kind.
This is an old building from Republic, MI. The vintage architecture is worth noting. Its use was unknown.
Rare photo of Victorian Building – Republic, Michigan
This picture is from an old stereoview from the mining town of Republic. The building’s use isn’t told, but the figures in the picture are children. This makes me think this is either an orphanage, a school, or a boarding house. There is nothing to indicate its use.
Whaleback barges docked at Sault Ste. Marie. These now extinct ships once were common on the Great Lakes.
Whaleback barges docked at Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan
These unusual ships are no extinct on the Great Lakes. These were made in Superior, Wisconsin, and were considered a better idea than shipping ores with schooners. At one time 44 of these ships sailed all through the lakes and delivered iron ore, coal, grain, and other commodities. Eventually they would be replaced by the modern ore freighter which still operates today.
The Great Northwestern Hotel that was in Marquette around 1860-1870.
Marquette’s Great Northwestern Hotel
Over the years, most cities in the Upper peninsula each had their legendary hotels. Sault Ste. Marie had the Iroquois Hotel, Escanaba had the Ludington House, and Houghton had the Douglass House. These places were the height of luxury for their time and prided themselves on that reputation. It was an era for the traveler and passenger ships and trains abounded. Travelling in style was the rage and these luxury hotels rose up to meet the challenge.
One of those was the Northwestern Hotel in Marquette. Catering to the rich and elite, the hotel was the ultimate place to stay in Marquette’s early years beginning around 1860. Its exact date is unknown. Marquette was founded around 1850 centered around the beginning of the iron mines. As the iron mining grew, travelers came to the region from places like New York, Cleveland, Detroit, and Boston looking to invest in mining. They needed someplace to stay that catered to their east coast lifestyles. The Northwestern Hotel provided exactly that.
The hotel had over 100 family rooms and was three stories high. The lower level had a dining room that seated 125. There were three adjoining cottages, one had 17 rooms while the other two had 6. The south side bordered the residential section of Marquette. The courtyard had a fountain, reputed to have been stocked with brook trout. Also for the guests’ convenience was croquet courts, swings, benches and sidewalks. An outdoor bandstand provided a venue for music during the summer months. The hotel provided a dock for sailboats and rented row boats for guests to paddle around Marquette Harbor.
The hotel was located on the lower harbor shore north of Gaines Rock. It was in a grove of pines and maples with a breathtaking view of Lake Superior and the harbor. It was situated only a block from the early business district. There is an age-old story that Mary Todd Lincoln came there to recover from her husband’s assassination, but there is no evidence anywhere that she did.
The Northwestern’ reputation reached well into the Midwest and the east touting the “best summer hotel” which prompted many to spend their entire summers at the Northwestern. With excellent fishing in Lake Superior and the lake’s cool breezes, the Northwestern promoted itself as a place to stay for the betterment of your health. In 1882 it burned to the ground. Its days were over but by then other establishments had been built and were there to fill in the gap left by the Northwestern.
A drawing of the grounds of Marquette’s Northwestern Hotel.
Photo of Ojibwa Native American family taken at Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan.
I recently came across this photo of an Ojibwa Family. Like so many, there is no identification of who they were. This was taken by photographers from Sault Ste. Marie around 1888 – 1898. I’ve placed a close-up of the family below. It might make it easier to possibly recognize one them. The traditional cedar wigwam can be seen in good detail. This is likely a one of a kind picture.
Book cover for my book Old Victoria, A Copper Country Ghost Town
Today, I received a review on my newest book, Old Victoria, the first of the Yooper History Hunter series. It was reviewed by Tom Powers for Michigan in Books. I’m happy about this as the book is small at about 30 pages long. It is meant to be as much of a field guide as it is a book about the history of Victoria. A map in the interior, expertly drawn by Joanna Walitalo, shows the locations and names of the buildings and other points of interest so the reader/explorer can hunt down the history of Victoria ghost town.
Here’s the review: Old Victoria: A Copper Mining Ghost Town in Ontonagon County by Mikel B. Classen
This is the first volume in the Yooper History Hunter Series in which each installment will explore the history of a specific, and often overlooked aspect or subject of U.P. history. Based on the first in the series, each volume will be composed of numerous historic photographs interspersed with contemporary, full-color images that compliment a precise, fact-fill historical narrative that is fascinating without wasting a word.
The author couldn’t have chosen a more interesting subject for the inaugural volume than the ghost town of Victoria. In spite of being listed in the National Register of Historic Places it is probably one of the fewest visited or even generally known historic sites in the Ontonagon area. The village rests atop a mountain within the spectacular Ontonagon River Gorge in the rugged Gogebic Mineral Range. The last couple of miles to the village is up a bone-jarring rock-strewn road. To call Victoria remote is a grand understatement.
Copper was discovered here in the 1600s but for 200 years it couldn’t be profitably mined. Then came Thomas Hooper who built a Taylor Hydraulic Air Compressor by digging three 400-feet-deep shafts into which the Ontonagon River and air were directed. The result (somehow) was compressed air that powered the entire mining operation and even a locomotive powered by compressed air. Mining became profitable, the village grew and prospered. The author covers working conditions (one in seven miners died in the mine) and the social and living conditions in the village. The mine closed in 1917. The village emptied, and the buildings fell victim to time and neglect until the Society for the Restoration of Old Victoria was founded and began restoring the village. This is a pure and highly polished nugget of Michigan history.
The Union Mine site in 1889 on the eastern part of the Porcupine Mountains in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
Union Mine, rare historical photo – Silver City, Michigan
I recently came across a rare stereoview card with the picture above on it. I hadn’t seen a picture of the Union Mine before. As a frequent visitor to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, it is hard to ignore the “Union” name as one drives into the park. Union Bay, Union Springs, Union River and Union Mine. All crop up near the entrance to the Porkies.
Because the Union Mine only operated for a very few years, images of it are few and far between. The stereoview also came with an inscription on the back. “Union Mine (deserted), Lake Superior. On Porcupine Mountain, 20 miles west of Ontonagon, Michigan, 1889. Mother and I and Mr. & Mrs. James E. Crooker camped here for several days. Had a fine time. H.C.K.” (No idea who H.C.K. is.)
In the mid 1840s, the copper rush began and the Union Mine was one of the earliest. It began in 1846 and lasted a little over a year. Run by the Union Copper Country, they went hard until the next year. In 1847 copper prices dropped and the Union Mine was deemed unprofitable. There were reports that some amount of silver was mined too. Silver was found along with the copper in several of the mines around Ontonagon. It is how Silver City got its name.
The Union Mine remained a hole in the ground until the 1860s and the Civil War. It was then reopened and reclosed with the end of the war, copper prices dropping again forcing the mine to shut down.
In 1908 the Union mine was opened up for exploration by the Calumet Hecla mining Company but it was determined again to be unprofitable to open. It was never again mined. Though it didn’t operate for long, its memory remains hearkening back to days of wilderness and exploration.
This is a postcard from around 1900 of the Aurora Mine shaft F in Ironwood, MI.
Time to take a journey, a small look back at Ironwood in its heyday. Built on the Michigan / Wisconsin border in 1885, the area became known for its rich deposits of iron on what became known as the Gogebic Range. Mines sprang up all around Ironwood including the Norrie, Aurora, Ashland, Newport, and Pabst. Mining is not without its hazards.
Miners heading down deep into the mine shafts. They rode down sometime to nearly a mile underground. It could drop as fast as 1000 feet per minute.
In September of 1929, after unusually heavy rains, a portion of the Pabst Mine collapsed trapping 40 men. 3 men were killed when an elevator snapped, causing a rock collapse which trapped the others. A massive rescue operation began immediately. The only nourishment they had after their workday lunch ran out, was tea they made from birch bark scraped from the wooden planks lining the mine walls and heated with the miners’ carbide lamps. For five days they waited, while those on the surface frantically worked to reach the trapped miners. When they finally did, all of them were still alive. Over 5,000 residents gathered to watch the lucky miners emerge from the mine.
This picture is of an Ironwood leatherhead football player. The only name I have for him is Ben.
Ironwood has always been a strong community. There are a large number of churches and always saw itself as an upright community, unlike its twin city on the Wisconsin side of the border, Hurley. The two towns are separated by the border and the Montreal River. In its early days Hurley was a dangerous town to be in, 60 saloons in one block, could lead to disaster at any time. Ironwood prided itself in being the opposite. Somehow the rough elements seemed to stay on the Wisconsin side of the river.
Ironwood had organized sports and schools that provided top notch educations. North Ironwood is the home of Gogebic Community College. Ironwood’s Luther Wright high school would the first built and to this day, the old high school is still educating an enrollment of 600 students.
Early postcard view of Suffolk Street in Ironwood.
Because of the high producing iron mines, Ironwood was a prosperous town. Ironwood got its name, not because of the tree (Ironwood), but was named after one of the mining captains, James Wood. His nickname was “Iron”, so he was called Iron Wood. Many of Ironwood’s original buildings still stand and the remnants of the iron days stand as relics to its past. A tour around town can reveal many sites of Ironwood’s iron days of yore. It is a still thriving community that takes pride in its history.
Portrait of unknown group of gentlemen in late 1800s. They seem dressed for an evening on the town.
For more information on Ironwood, check out these links.
Below is an entry from the book Yooper Ale Trails and the text is by Jon Stott. (Used with permission.) Read on or listen to the audiobook segment available from Audible.com or iTunes
Hereford and Hops, a historical landmark in the city of Escanaba.
One of the Escanaba area’s finest, Hereford and Hops is the first brewery to start brewing in the Upper Peninsula and the first to have “grill your own steak” capabilities. It is housed in an old building that used to be Escanaba’s busiest hotel with 80 rooms! This old building was known to have served bootleggers and gangsters during prohibition. There was even a speakeasy in the basement! Though it is currently closed, the speakeasy still exists in the basement of the old building. A flood in 2020 caused so much damage that they are still working to get it back to usable standards. Located not far from the waterfront, it would have been easy to smuggle booze in.
Originally the Delta Hotel, built in 1912, finished in 1914, it was intended to be the grandest hotel Escanaba could offer. At a cost of $100,000 (2.75 million today), it was constructed with that aim in mind. At the time though there more than 35 hotels and rooming houses already in town, it was felt that a truly grand place was needed, something with more than 30 rooms and a place that would redefine Escanaba’s sky line. It became exactly that. It was the tallest building in town at five stories. William McKinley, a Speaker of the Illinois Assembly at the time, attended the Grand Opening. It became the place to be for the wealthy and elite in Escanaba.
The Delta Hotel around 1917 after it first opened in Escanaba, Michigan. Notice the old cars around the building.
In 1930, the hotel changed hands to C.J. Burns. He established a bar and lounge in the basement called C.J.’s. This was right after prohibition was declared making this one of the few speakeasys, to survive to this day. (Though currently closed due to damages, they hope to get it up and running once again.) People came from all over the world to the hotel including cruise passengers, industrial moguls, and gangsters. Al Capone’s fingers stretched well into the U.P. and supplied some of C.J.’s booze. There is a tradition of alcohol here that goes back 100 years.
There is an interesting story that in the early days, Colonel Sanders sold his chicken recipe to the Delta. Before Sanders began KFC, as we know it today, he tried to sell his recipe for chicken to restaurants around the country. There was no thought to restaurant chains then, only selling his special recipe. At one time, and the document has disappeared, there was a copy of the agreement between Sanders and the hotel restaurant. It supposedly featured an early picture of Sanders on the contract and his signature giving them permission to use it. As the tale goes, the restaurant was the only one around to have that recipe at the time.
Now, with the brewpub, the tradition continues, but with a much quieter and relaxing atmosphere. H&H revels in its historic past, now on the register of National Historical Places. Historical pictures and artifacts adorn the walls. Though its focus is Beef and Beer, their menu is extensive. The Elk Burger is awesome. Going to Hereford and Hops is a step back into time when Escanaba was flourishing and grand style was in fashion. It is not just about great food and beer, it is also about the history within these walls that still speak if you listen hard enough.
Text below by Jon Stott.
The bar at Hereford and Hops in Escanaba surrounds itself with its and Escanaba’s history.
It was a ten-minute drive along M-35—past the end of the airport runway, the Escanaba golf course, the public and Catholic high schools to Ludington Avenue, Escanaba’s main street, and then east along Ludington—to the next stop on this ale trail: a building of double historical importance. Built in 1914 as a luxury hotel, the Delta Hotel is on the National Register of Historic Places and is home to Hereford & Hops Steakhouse and Brewpub, the Upper Peninsula’s first craft brewery. Since the late 1990s, I’d been enjoying lunch here during my annual day trips to the city known as the center of the UP’s “banana belt.” On one of my visits, I’d sampled my first Upper Peninsula version of Kolsch, a German-style beer that was relatively unknown across the United States at that time but has since become very popular among craft beer drinkers.
I first met the owner of Hereford & Hops, the late Don Moody, in 2017, when I arrived to do an interview with brewer Mike Sattem. Mike was brewing and while we were waiting, Don showed me around the brewpub, which occupies most of the first floor of the building (the upper floors house apartments). At the front was the seven-barrel brewhouse, visible behind the floor-to-ceiling plate glass panels that formed one of the walls beside an elegant, full-service bar. Next to the bar was a cozy pub area that had a pool table, oversized easy chairs and a sofa, a gas fireplace, and, above it, one of the establishment’s four TVs. A formal dining room, featuring tables set with white cloths and a fully-restored player grand piano, was behind the pub area, and, next to it, a large grill where patrons could cook their own steaks. Past the grill was a room nicknamed “The Other Grill,” a Mongolian grill where patrons filled bowls with ingredients that would be handed to a chef to be grilled.
Grill your own steak is one of the things Hereford and Hops is known for. The beef is locally raised.
Many years ago, Don, a native of Kankakee, Illinois, and his wife and young family spent summers in Rock, a small community north of Escanaba. “We had a small farm. I decided to raise Hereford cattle at the farm, and we moved to the UP permanently.” He and a neighbor purchased the Delta Hotel building and, when, in 1992, the Michigan Government changed its liquor laws to allow brewpubs, they decided to build one. He also took a crash course in brewing. In the months after the December 1994 opening, the idea of grilling your own steak and drinking beer brewed on premises became so popular that there were lineups of people waiting to get in: locals, day-trippers from as far away as Marquette and Green Bay, and, in the summer, tourists, including an increasing number of beer tourists.
The back dining room at H&H. The windows throw a blue cast in the room in the day. Beautiful area.
One of the people who had worked on the renovations of the Delta Hotel in the early 1990 was Mike Sattem, a recent high school graduate. “I never thought it would happen,” he said as he joined Don Mooney and me in the dining room. “Now here we are, twenty-five years later, two people who’d had no experience brewing, an owner and a head brewer.” After Hereford & Hops had opened, Mike began hanging around John Malchow, who’d taken over from Moody as the brewer, picking up as much information he could about the brewing process. He apprenticed in the brewery of a sister restaurant in Wausau, Wisconsin and was part of the brewing team that won three World Beer Cup and two Great American Beer Festival medals. When Malchow moved on, Mike returned to Escanaba and has been there since, making him, along with Derek “Chumley” Anderson of Vierling Restaurant and Marquette Harbor Brewery and Lark Ludlow of Tahquamenon Falls Brewery, the longest-serving brewers in the UP.
Brewing beer is a fine art. This is the brewing equipment room at H&H.
click on image for audiobook
When I met Mike Sattem again in 2022, the beer list included many of the styles I recognized from my earlier visits. There had been some changes, Mike noted. He now often brewed lesser-known styles, including the growingly popular sour beers, which he said he stored in a different part of the brewery’s basement to prevent any contamination. He also has lowered the alcohol percentage of most of the beers as patrons’ tastes evolved. “Most people enjoy something that complements their food, not something over the top.” But he also noted that as people’s familiarity with craft beers evolved, they were more accepting of hoppy beers.
“When we started out, we developed Whitetail as a gentle beer, but people thought it was too hoppy.” Whitetail Golden Ale (ABV 4.7 percent) is one of Hereford & Hops’ flagship beers. A gold medal winner at the World Beer Cup, it has a light-to-medium malt body and a crisp hop finish that has earthy, pine, and citrus notes. Another beer designed for novice drinkers of craft beer is the very low ABV Bluegrass Wheat Ale (ABV 3.1 percent), a blueberry-flavored ale that uses lemongrass instead of hops. This unusual ingredient provides ginger and lemon flavors that balance the fairly unassertive two-row barley and wheat malts and complement the hint of blueberries.
This is the main lounge/bar dining area. It even has a pool table.
Cleary Irish Red Ale (ABV 4.8 percent), winner of a Great American Beer Festival bronze medal, and Blackbird Oatmeal Stout (ABV 6.1 percent), winner of a World Beer Cup bronze, are two of Hereford & Hops darker brews. Cleary Red is a medium-bodied amber given a malty sweetness by the caramel malts and touch of candy apple-flavoring. The stout is a medium- to full-bodied version of the style given a silky, creamy texture by the oats, and roasted and coffee notes by the dark malts. Redemption IPA originally started at 5.5 percent ABV, but, Sattem told me, “I gradually ramped up the ABV to 7.5 percent as people’s palates developed. Medium-to full-bodied, it has an array of hops, including Simcoe, Cascade, and Amarillo, that contribute citrus, earthy, piney, spicy, and floral notes to complement the malty backbone. The Kolsch (no ABV available) is light-bodied, crisp, and clean-finishing. It follows the German recipe as closely as possible and is a refreshing, almost lager-like drink.
It’s not just a burger, It’s an Elk Burger with serious onion rings. Nothing mundane at Hereford and Hops. Great Food.
I’d visited the brewhouse on my previous trip, but asked Mike if we could tour it again. “I’ve just finished cleaning everything, including the windows. People are much more worried,” he added, “if all the equipment isn’t clean, the beer will be no good.” Between the mash tun and brew kettle hung a sign that I remembered from my earlier visit. “Blessed is the mother who gives birth to a brewer.” Mike laughed and told me that, although his mother is proud of him, she doesn’t drink any alcohol. I remarked that I was sure that many, many of the people who had enjoyed his beer had probably blessed her.
UPDATE: The Hereford and Hops changed hands in July of 2024. Though they plan to continue as always, it will be interesting to see how the place evolves with new owners.
CJ’s Lounge, the one-time Speakeasy, is closed because of flood damage. It could take years to repair.
For more information like this, please check out our book “Yooper Ale Trails” by Mikel B. Classen and Jon C. Stott.
Unknown homesteaders from near Sault Ste. Marie showing off their horses.
Two Homesteaders with Their Horses
Here are several historical pictures from the Sault Ste. Marie area, The first one is two homesteaders with their pair of prize horses. There are no names attached to this picture so we don’t know who this is. I do like the dog in front of the woman. Also, the front door seems to be covered with blankets or some kind of fabric. This is a great example of early homestead life.
Sault Ste. Marie Native Americans fishing in canoes in the St. Mary’s River.
Soo Native Americans Fishing St. Mary’s with Canoes
Taken from the Canadian side of the St. Mary’s River, these Soo native Americans are out fishing the Rapids. This was taken from an old stereoview. This was probably taken in the late 1800s. Though it is hard to tell, I think the Native on the left side is Jack Lapete, a well-known Lake Superior guide.
The train depot that used to be at the Soo Locks exchanging ship for rail passengers or vice-versa.
Sault Ste. Marie Train Depot at the Soo Locks
Back when trains were abundant, a railroad depot was located at the Soo Locks. This allowed passengers to embark and debark from train to ship in one location. The depot was located west of where the locks observation platform is now. From an old postcard image, with the car next to the ship, it shows three modes of transportation for the era, 1920s or 30s.
The ship Athabasca as it sails into the Soo Locks. Photo by Allan Fanjoy.
The Steamship Athabasca
Allan Fanjoy, a Sault Ste. Marie photographer captures the S.S. Athabasca as it heads down the St. Mary’s River. The Athabasca was built in Scotland in 1883 and then sent to America for passenger use on the Great Lakes. She sailed between Thunder Bay, Ontario on Lake Supeerior and Owen Sound on Lake Huron. It was one of three ships in a fleet that also included the Algoma and the Alberta.
A fisherman baits is line after pulling in a prize trout on the St. Mary’s River.
Trout Fishing on the St. Mary’s
Trout fishing has been a time honored tradition throughout the U.P. One of the reasons the Native Americans lived in the region was because of the abundance of fish. Even former governor Chase S. Osborn was known to enjoy pulling a big one out of the river. He even had a local guide come an get him if he had something special on the line and he would drop whatever he was doing and go pull in a big trout. The picture above shares a fishing tradition that continues to this day.
The cover of the book, Yooper Ale Trails for Craft breweries and brewpubs in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
The popularity of independent and craft breweries has been on the rise for several years now. They have been popping up across the Upper Peninsula almost faster than one can keep up with. From the populaton centers to some of the remotest places, nearly all roads lead to beer.
A couple of years ago, Jon Stott began a journey that would take him across the Upper Peninsula to document all of the brewpubs and breweries, tasting and documenting this rising and tasty industry. The result was a book concept called the Yooper Ale Trails.
The idea was to create trails to breweries and brewpubs that a beer lover could follow to hit each place within a specified area. Eventually all the brewpubs and breweries in the entire Peninsula would be not only documented, but thoroughly described as to brews and even menus from those that provide food. It became a book that is unique.
Now it is my turn to take up the mantle of the Yooper Ale Trails. I will be exploring new brewpubs and breweries to keep things up to date. I will be revising past entries as the need arises. Each month we will be doing a “Featured” brewery or brewpub on the blog. This new feature will whet readers appetites for adventures down the Yooper Ale Trails.
The legacy of U.P. brewers from the past continues with this new era of hand-crafted beers. The journeys of the Yooper Ale Trails invokes that historical past all the while ushering it in to a new day. Yooper Ale Trails is a must have for any craft beer loving fans.
The Italian Hall Disaster in Calumet, Michigan, on Christmas Eve, 1913
Striking Miner’s Children Die in Stampede when someone yells “Fire.”
A shipment of coffins arrives in Calumet for the 59 children and 14 adults that died in the panic.
As many of you know, I do a lot of events throughout the year. I’m often asked about the Italian Hall Disaster in Calumet, Michigan, where someone yelled “Fire” and dozens of children were trampled in a panicked stampede for the door, and if there is something in my books about it. The answer is no, but a fellow Michigan author, Steve Lehto, has written extensively about it in a book called “Death’s Door.” This book, in my opinion, is the definitive history of the event.
Recently Steve Lehto gave a talk on the Italian Hall Disaster (also known as the Italian Hall Massacre) at Lake Superior State University. LSSU has posted that talk online. It is worth a watch. I attended and found the talk engaging and informative. Steve is an excellent speaker. He takes you through a lot of information quickly, but it is a gripping tale that will satisfy any curiosity on the subject. Follow the link below for Steve’s enlightening talk on the subject.
Jim Harrison, author, Upper Peninsula icon, leans on an old truck in Grand Marais, Michigan. He wrote many of his books in a cabin there. Photo by Mikel B. Classen copyright 2023.
A few years ago, when I lived in Grand Marais, Michigan, I was fortunate enough to get to know Jim Harrison a little bit. He owned property there and would come and write out in his log cabin in the woods. It was situated on a beautiful bend on the nearby Sucker River. He would isolate himself out there and work on a book. Often, after 10 pm, he would come into the Dunes Saloon, also known as the Lake Superior Brewing Company, and have a few drinks after a long day of writing. His publisher had been instructed by Jim to call and leave messages at the Dunes and he would call them back after ten.
I was introduced to him by the bartender there, Dave Beckwith. I lived in Grand Marais for 10 years and had many opportunities to spend some time with Jim. We rarely talked about writing. I always figured that when he was there, he wanted to get away from the writing for a bit. So, we talked about other things such as hunting and fishing and make no mistake, Jim Harrison was a foodie.
He often talked about things he’d had in different places. When he came to Grand Marais, he would always stop off at this little place on M-28 called Rashid’s Market. He said they had the best prosciutto he could find. Rashid’s went out of business a few years ago and is now another unused building along the highway.
My wife and I would have a party every year on our anniversary which is also the summer solstice. We would invite everyone and the party would last for several days. Kegs would be brought in from the Lake Superior Brewing Company, the fire pit would be going and Mary, my wife would cook obscene amounts of food. Seemed like half the town was there. It was very cool.
Jim would stop by and kick back with all of us. I don’t know what species it was, but we had this really fine soft grass in the yard. After a while and we would look over and Jim would be crashed out in the grass. He remarked to me how soft and nice it was to lay down in it and he’d never seen or felt grass like that. It was fun to have him there, but for most of us we saw him as a regular neighbor.
We all knew who Jim was, and plenty of folks would show up at the Dunes Saloon hoping for a “Jim” sighting. It was no secret that he might turn up in Grand Marais and people came looking. I was once mistaken for Jim, not sure why to this day, but the guy would not believe I wasn’t him. Someone also insisted that I was a character in a couple of Jim’s stories called “Brown Dog.” He wouldn’t believe me when I told him no either.
Close-up of Jim Harrison in Grand Marais in Black and White. Photo by Mikel B. Classen Copyright 2023
Jim also liked being around the females. They would often cluster around his table and sit and drink with him. We used to call it “holding court.” He would be smiling with three or four ladies next to him cocktailing the night away. Never saw him leave with one though.
In Grand Marais, the tourist season gets so busy that everyone works, even the kids. My wife Mary caught Jim checking out our daughter who had just got a job bussing at the Dunes Saloon. She chastised him a bit informing him that was our daughter. He looked surprised and said “That’s Mikel’s daughter?” He came over to me and apologized and I looked at him and said, “Keep this in mind, she’s only 14 and this is neither Kentucky or France.” He laughed. Jim was always good natured about things.
Jim would often come to town during the fall. He loved to bird hunt and would bring his dogs. Accompanied by friends and relatives they would all spend a few days chasing down partridges aka ruffed grouse. Tourism had slowed this time of year and a pleasant, relaxed time could be had.
One day Jim approached me to take a few pictures of him. He disliked the author picture on most of his books. You know the ones, where he’s looking contemplatively out a window. We made arrangements to meet him downtown Grand Marais, the next day. I get downtown outside the Sportsman’s Bar and after a bit Jim shows up driving an old beat up truck that he had borrowed from one of the locals named Lance. Jim also has someone with him.
He gets out and introduces me to his companion who happens to be an editor of a French magazine who was doing an article on Jim. Jim Harrison is apparently really popular in France. The editor and I shake hands and jim says “We’ve been drinking wine all night. I’m really hung over, we need to do this quick.” So Jim heads for the truck and leans against it, smoking, wearing his ever present off faded pink shirt. The wind picks up a little tossing his sparse hair around.
I’m bent over my camera shooting pictures when I realize that the French editor is shooting me shooting Jim. Yes, splashed all over France is my derriere in a magazine. I didn’t shoot very long since I knew Jim was impatient. The pictures on this page are from that shoot.
A couple of days later I went out to his cabin on the river bend. It was an old log cabin with a thick coat of varnish on it. He let me inside and the interior was fantastic. There was a river stone fireplace with dark walls stained from age and nicotine. This was where he created his magic, his wordsmith shop. I showed him the shots I’d taken and gave him the envelope with the prints. On the table were several yellow paper legal size pads where he created his stories. There was an energy there you could feel, like a thick fog.
Jim eventually sold his property in Grand Marais. The little town was becoming “discovered.” Soon the tourists began to overwhelm the place no matter what the time of year. I remember Jim coming into the Dunes Saloon, which was quite busy at the time, loudly saying “Get all of these fucking people out of my bar.” He ended up finding a quiet table in the back and cocktailed there.
Jim came less and less to Grand Marais and then he simply stopped coming. When the cabin sold it was final. I never saw him again. Then he passed. It is one of my regrets.
Jim Harrison after a long night of wine drinking wearing his signature t-shirt. Photo by Mikel B. Classen copyright 2023
Tons of copper ingots ready to be shipped are waiting on the Portage Canal Waterfront. The swing bridge can be seen in the background. The canal was a vital shipping lane for the Keweenaw copper.
The Collapse of the Portage Canal Swing Bridge, April 1905
The Portage Canal swing bridge which ran between Houghton and Hancock, Michigan was an amazing bit of engineering. Originally built in 1875, it was constructed of wood and featured a giant gear which swiveled the bridge to run parallel to the canal. It would then swing back into place after a ship had passed so the railroad could run through. The bridge was the only connection there was between the Keweenaw Peninsula and the rest of the Upper Peninsula that didn’t require a boat. Its importance can’t be understated.
In 1895 the bridge was rebuilt out of steel. The wood was replaced and the center swivel gear was now a massive piece of metal that was a marvel in itself. Hundreds of ships would pass through this waterway loaded with Keweenaw copper on its way to factories and smelters on the lower Great Lakes.
This picture shows the wreckage of the Houghton Hancock swing bridge. The giant center gear can be seen in this picture. The damage was catastrophic.
On April 15, 1905, a ship named the Northern Wave steamed up the Portage Canal. As they approached the bridge, watchmen signaled the ship. The Captain of the Northern Wave followed the signals (according to him) and collided with the swing bridge. He claimed the signals were wrong. The impact caused the bridge to come down in a mass of steel and wood. By a miracle, no one was killed, but two watchmen had to jump into the canal.
The Portage Canal was effectively blocked. Copper shipping had to be rerouted. The railroad could only reach the shore of the canal, so a large effort was made to cleanup the debris and rebuild the swing bridge. It was rebuilt in a year.
The rebuilt swing bridge was replaced by the lift bridge, the one we see today, in 1959.
One of the collapsed sections of the Portage Canal Swing Bridge showing the twisted metal.
Book reviews of my new book: Faces, Places & Days Gone By – A Pictorial History of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
This is the cover for Mikel B Classen’s new book Faces Places and Days Gone By featuring vintage Harley Davidson.
From the Lansing State Journal and Detroit Free Press.
“Faces, Places and Days Gone By” ($19.95 paperback, $34.95 hardcover) written by Mikel B. Classen, managing editor of “The U.P. Reader,” is an oversized volume that’s full of great, highly detailed vintage images, accompanied by excellent descriptions.
Subtitled “A Pictorial History of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula,” it’s divided into nine sections, including homesteading, logging, mining, ships and shipping, Native Americans and recreation.
A View of the Huron River from Big Eric’s Bridge. The spelling of “Erick” is incorrect.The “k” belongs in his last name not his first.
Big Eric’s Bridge – Huron River – Baraga County
A Point North
By Mikel B. Classen
The Wild and Scenic Huron River in the Spring is an exceptional time to be there.
Over the weekend I traveled over to L’anse to sell and sign books at the American Legion hall. While I was in the neighborhood I decided to drive north towards Aura and Skanee. My ultimate objective was to reach a wondrous remote place known as Big Eric’s Bridge.
This is an area I rarely get into, but this region of north country leads into the west end of the Huron Mountains. Between here and Big Bay is Michigan’s wilderness at its best. The problem with it is much of it is owned the legendary Huron Mountain Club. But what isn’t owned by them is worth the effort to experience what you can.
This is one of the couple of small falls that make up the river near the Big Eric’s Bridge State Forest Campground
Big Eric’s Bridge crosses the wild Huron River which contains 37 species of fish. Fishing here is amazing with trout the primary fish in the river. This is an anglers paradise and a pristine river.
As I pull in and hear the water rushing in the river, I feel like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Maybe Big Eric took some of the load. He seemed like that kind of guy. Yes, the bridge is named after a real person. There are some local stories but overall, not much is known about the guy.
The Huron River’s rugged and wild waters tumble over cascades along its winding path.
Big Eric Erickson
Big Eric Erickson was a large Swede from Skanee, his birthplace and date are unknown. He spoke with a thick Swedish accent that could sometimes be the butt of a joke. Erickson took it well. Logging for the Ford Motor Company, Big Eric earned the moniker of Paul Bunyan of Baraga County. Ford had a factory in Pequaming that manufactured parts for the fast growing automobile industry. Ford also had a sawmill in L’anse where Big Eric sold most of his wood.
Eric Erickson was over 6 feet tall and an even tempered individual. He was well liked and had an interesting way of looking at the world. In Richard Dorson’s, Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers, he describes Erickson like this: “He’s happy when losing money and grumbling when making it, if you meet him in the woods where he’s boss, he’s dressed up in oxfords, dress pants and a silk shirt. In town he dresses like a lumberjack, very ragged.”
Big Eric’s logging camp around the 1920s. This would have been cold work. Photo courtesy Baraga County Historical Society.
Another tale surrounding Big Eric. He was checking out his cook’s food list. He came to loganberries. “Logging Berries – dat’s fine – order a carload of them.” He then came to New England Ham and crossed it out. “Isn’t American ham good enough for dese damn lumberjacks?”
He was known for helping people out when they needed it and was shrewd with his businesses. Eric was good to his workers often helping them when trouble reared its head. When Prohibition hit, Big Eric wasn’t affected much except for the behavior of his workmen.
The original Big Eric’s Bridge in 1930. The current one was built in 1992. Notice that the woman is using a fresh cut sapling for a fishing pole. Photo courtesy of the Baraga County Historical Society.
One day his men all left for a speakeasy or “blind pig” as they were called, and didn’t return. After a few days, Big Eric went to the illegal saloon and with true sorrow etched on his face, asked the bartender, “Can you let me have these men for a few days?” He got his workmen back.
Later in life, he mused about owning a hotel where the only guests would be lumberjacks. Big Eric moved to Houghton and that’s the last we hear from him. The bridge that bears his name is a reminder of his legacy in the region. A finer place was never picked that bears his name.
Big Eric’s Bridge State Forest Campground
Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris) grow along the river bank. They are one of the first to bloom in the spring.
As I wander along the banks of the river taking photographs, one can’t help but feel the energy of the rushing water. It is spring and everything is coming to life. The leaves of the hardwoods are small and not fully grown. Above the river on a small ridge is a campground.
This area was logged at one time but it is difficult to tell. Many of the surrounding trees have grown to a spectacular height giving the feeling of old growth. Walking the road between the campsites is a walk among tall and thick hardwoods with a few pines thrown in.
One of the nice campsites at Big Eric’s Bridge State Forest campground.
There are 21 campsites here, all of them primitive. They have a table and fire ring at each site. Because of its remote location, all trash is carry out. If you bring it in, you bring it out. There are pit toilets and hand pumped water. If you are looking for camping with amenities, this is not your place.
Sitting at one of the picnic tables that overlook the Huron River, i realize how full of life the place was. Birds could be heard all around and the forest floor was just beginning its coverage. The first of the wildflowers were blooming and the Spring Beauties were just beginning to pop. I love spring in the U.P.
It’s still early in the year and I feel a chill as the sun creeps to day’s end. I hate to go, but it has been a clear day so the night should get cold. The drive back out is a bit regretful. I really wish that i had had more time to spend at that little campground next to Big Eric’s Bridge.
The Huron River is Michigan’s wild and scenic rivers at it’s best. Cold and untamed it’s flow has created a region of wilderness that is evident throughout Baraga County. The watershed encompasses 61,000 acres and is partly shared with Marquette County.
The river flows onward to Lake Superior and the Huron Bay.
It can be found off of US-41, exit at L’Anse. Turn right at the four-way stop in downtown L’anse and continue 20 miles on Skanee Road (paved). At the junction of Portice Road and Big Erick’s Road, go right on Big Erick’s Road. One mile (gravel) to the campground.
The outside of the Ambassador, like Dr. Who’s TARDIS, quiet and unassuming on the outside, but step through the door and a different and unexpected world is revealed.
Houghton, Michigan in the Keweenaw Peninsula is easily one of the truly historical cities in Michigan if not the midwest. Just driving down the streets takes one back 130 years. If it wasn’t for the cars, there wouldn’t be much difference. Many of the buildings are over a century old and still stand, used for businesses to this day.
Inside, many of the old buildings, the interiors have been modernized, but one is a marvelous step back into time. The Ambassador Restaurant is worth going to, simply to see the inside. It is colorful and antique while providing wonderful views. It is a place where the old town still lingers.
When walking into the Ambassador the colored lights and murals give a sense of wonder when coming through the door.
Built in 1898, the brick building is one block east of the Houghton Lift Bridge. From the outside, it almost seems like just any other place, but when you open the door, you step into a showcase of stained glass, murals, and woodwork. The back wall is lined with windows that provide expansive views of the Portage Canal, the Houghton Lift Bridge, and the city of Hancock, topped by the Quincy Mine hoist protruding into the skyline.
The back wall of the Ambassador is mostly window. The Houghton Lift Bridge can be seen through the window and the Jail Guard panel of the 3rd mural can be seen.
Though stained glass decorates the Ambassador throughout, it is the murals that adorn the walls and ceiling that capture the attention. The murals were originally painted as large oils on canvas and were commissioned by Joseph Bosch owner of the Bosch Breweries which were located in Houghton and Lake Linden. They were painted by a Mr. Rohrbeck and hung in the Bosch Brewery for several years. Eventually they came down and were hung in a bar that was east of the Ambassador called the Giltedge Bar. Prohibition struck and the murals were taken down and stored away. The Ambassador was a known speakeasy during Prohibition called Hole in the Wall.
This is the first mural which appears above the bar. The gnomes are brewing their beer.
When prohibition was repealed, saloons reopened or at least brought cocktails out of the closet, and began remodeling and redecorating the bars around town where the murals were rediscovered. Their next home was the Ambassador where they are now. The date of this is unsure, but it is believed it was in the 40s during a remodel.
This is the second mural that is across from the bar. The party is rolling and the drinking is heavy. Below it some of the stained glass windows are visible.
If looked at in the proper order, they tell a story. The first depicts gnomes brewing beer. They are stirring it up in a large cauldron like a witches brew. The second mural has the gnomes drinking the beer and partying hardy. The third shows them the morning after, hungover and spent, wiped out by their night drinking. A guard is outside so their drunk has ended with the lot of them locked up. This last mural has three separate panels and covers most of the west wall in the dining room. The artwork is superb and it is done with an obvious sense of humor.
This is the third mural which adorns the dining room wall. It is actually three panels, but it is so big i could only fit the middle one into a picture. The jailer panel can be seen in another picture.
The Ambassador is a restaurant that has also won some accolades. Back in the 60’s they developed their own pizza recipe and has since won a place in Pizza Magazine’s Pizza Hall of Fame. Personally, I never knew there was such a thing. But hey, who am I to argue, the food is excellent and not overpriced.
The bar back wall, the Portage Canal can be seen through the windows as well as more of the stained glass above them.
Never been here? That needs to be fixed. Any trip to the Houghton area and Copper Country, should include a stop here. It is a taste of “old” U.P. that is so much more than just a meal. I stop here and have a beer just to look at the place. It never gets old.
There’s even a poem about the Ambassador:
COME FILL A BUMPER
On or about nineteen hundred and two, Mr. Rohrbeck was given a job to do.
With brushes in hand and gnomes in his head, he created the masterpiece on the wall above.
First home for the paintings was the old Giltedge Bar, east of here, but not too far.
Streets were of dirt, sidewalks of wood, hitching posts for horses, business was good.
Beer for a nickel, whiskey for a dime, sandwiches a quarter any old time.
Prohibition was next, and became the law, the Ambassador, a speakeasy, called “Hole in the Wall”
Paintings were rolled and stored away, for twelve long years in the dust they lay.
At last came nineteen thirty-three, the law was repealed and Bacchus was free.
Saloons and taverns opened their doors, folks danced, sang, and drank spirits once more.
The old bar was hauled out of its storage place, and the paintings were hung on the walls they now grace.
The artist, long gone, would be proud if he knew, that folks still enjoy them as much as they do.
Poem above taken from the Ambassador’s website. For more information about the Ambassador Restaurant, go to their website at https://theambassadorhoughton.com/
This mural is a small one near the door at the entrance to the restaurant.
Pictures of early settlers trying to tame the wild country of Upper Michigan is always interesting to me. I don’t have many of these early settler pictures but I thought I could put up a few of my favorites. Some have focus issues as with many old cameras, but they are still glimpses into that rough and rugged past.
This is an old homestead that was near Marquette.
Some of these old pictures show some form of home life. We are so used to modern conveniences and technology, seeing these old pictures shows just how rough life was. It is good that the days of mud, muck, and manure are past. Some things of the modern age are not over-rated, hot water, lawn mowers, garden tillers, all products of trying to ease this harsh life.
This was located near the Sault on the Michigan side. It is the home of an Ojibwa family.
Often we over-romanticize the past, casting aside the many realities of life on a homestead. Everyday was a chore laden struggle for survival.
This picture was from an old stereoview. This was another from somewhere near Marquette.
The brutal environment, the bugs, the dampness from the marshes, the endless preparation for the next winter, all made living from day to day, an amazing feat.
This is a picture from Manistique that shows an early family. Yes, that is a child sitting among the chickens.
I hope you enjoyed these little windows of settling the U.P.
I was armed with two antique maps and a full tank of gas. How was I to fail? I felt confident as I drove down H-40 which runs through Chippewa and Mackinac counties. It’s a back route that’s between U.S.-2 and M-28. Formerly, it was a railroad route which had a string of towns along its way. Most of them now are gone or shadows of what they once were. The railroad still runs along the highway. The place I was looking for was Wilwin.
The old railroad building that stands at the corner of Wilwin Road. Part of the loading platform is still seen.
About five miles west of Trout Lake are a couple of old buildings marking the entrance to Wilwin Road. The old buildings are the first things to attest to the fact that Wilwin was once there. A railroad siding once ran where Wilwin Road is now bringing lumber to the main railroad trunk from the sawmills of Wilwin.
This old storage building is another of the relics at the corner of Wilwin Road.
I turned up Wilwin Road. The maps were showing the town’s location a couple of miles and then left for a mile or so. Seemed simple enough. I drove passing a couple of houses. The trees started getting thicker and the road began to wind through the woods. I love doing these kinds of drives, but it was beginning to seem like I had gone too far. I should have come across something by now, a clearing or old remnants, but the trail went on and there was no evidence of anything resembling a town site. Now the road was turning to soft sand.
I looked at the road ahead and concluded that I had gone too far and had completely missed the location or maybe a side road that I’d missed. I wasn’t sure, but I knew if I went further, getting stuck was likely. I turned around. Backtracking, I found a turn missed. I started down that road. not far in I came across a burned patch of ground and a small log with smoke coming out of it. (More on that here.) After dousing it with water I went further down the trail and there it was, the site of Wilwin!
The entrance to the Wilwin Lodge, fenced. A large portion of the towns former location is now a Graymont Quarry.
I turned my truck around at the entrance to the Wilwin Lodge, now apparently owned by Graymont, a Canadian cement company. To the south of the road was a large area where the town had one stood. There was nothing left. The old townsite had been cleaned up leaving next to no trace of Wilwin. I expect part of the old town is now Graymont property which is fenced in.
A small portion of Wilwin’s town site is visible along the trail near the gate.
The history of Wilwin is that of a logging town. Its history wasn’t long, but it was fast and furious. The beginning was around 1914 and was founded by a man named Frank Chesborough. The name Wilwin is a contraction of his two sons names William and Elwin. They raised a large sawmill and platted out a community. They bought a train and laid track intersecting with the main line. They built a boarding house along with a store. Single story homes were built to house the sawmill employees. A boardwalk connected it all. The town thrived, they were even selling the bark from the mill to a leather company.
The only signs left that part of a town was even here are the places where the ground is disrupted.
A huge lodge was built. It was reputed to be two storys with a balcony that stretched the length of the building, and full of leaded glass windows that contained nearly 2000 panes. It had a huge kitchen and a living room with fireplaces at both ends. Built by the Chesboroughs it was reputed to be the height of luxury at the time.
Then, in 1921, it was all over. Just seven years had gone by. The price of lumber fell and the costs at the Wilwin mill were too high. As quickly as it had begun, Wilwin was through. The houses were salvaged and removed. Some of them are still homes in Trout Lake and nearby Ozark. All of them and the boarding house were completely removed. The machinery for the sawmill was resold to a company in Dollar Bay in the Keweenaw. The mill itself was burned and then the debris removed. The lodge, as far as I know, still stands somewhere behind the fence put up by Graymont.
The black and white in this picture makes it easier to pick out the outline of where a building once stood.
It was time to head home. I had almost got lost and stuck, put out a potential forest fire and found what I was looking for. I was pleased with that. My day had been successful and eventful. That is always a good day.
Whalebacks were used to haul cargo across the Great Lakes. Pictured is the Colgate Hoyt, the first self-powered (steam) whaleback in the fleet. Circa 1890.
Whaleback ships were a unique design that was adopted to ship ore across the Great Lakes and particularly Lake Superior. Their shape was designed to lessen the impact of turbulent surf. When fully loaded they looked more like a submarine than a surface ship. They were used mostly as a tow barge replacing schooners which had been used before this.
Whalebacks at the Soo Locks towing each other a common practice in ore shipping.
Whalebacks were fairly common throughout the early 20th century. 44 of them were built between 1887 and 1898. Twenty-five of the whalebacks built were tow barges, the other 19 were steam powered. Most of them were built in Duluth, MN or Superior, WI as freighters for the iron range. None of them are left except one that is a museum ship in Superior, WI, the SS Meteor. (here is a link to the Whaleback Museum: https://superiorpublicmuseums.org/ss-meteor/)
Whalebacks taking on ore in Escanaba.
When loaded whalebacks were hard to see and were often run into by ships that couldn’t see them. Their hatches tended to leak and bend during stress which made them a hazard. The Whaleback is the forefather to the modern ore freighter that we commonly see now, like the neanderthal to the modern man.
Whaleback in the Soo Locks. A heavily loaded one can be seen behind it.
One whaleback was unique from all the rest. That is the Christopher Columbus, the only passenger whaleback ever made. It was painted white and 362 feet long, the longest ship on the Great Lakes at the time and the longest whaleback ever built. The Christopher Columbus was built to ferry passengers to the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Thousands of passengers would ride on her and it was said she could hold 4000 at capacity.
The picture below is rare as I think it is the only one in existence. It shows the Christopher Columbus sailing up the Portage Canal at Houghton /Hancock. I believe this is its maiden voyage. It was built in Superior, WI and spent most of its time shuttling passengers in the southern end of Lake Michigan. Once it reached the lower lakes, it seems to have stayed there.
The whaleback, Christopher Columbus sails up the Portage Canal on what appears to be its maiden voyage.
Sunset over Lac La Belle after a long evening of paddling. The air is still, the water is glass.
Lac La Belle/ Bete Grise – Keweenaw County – Michigan
A Point North
By Mikel B. Classen
The Keweenaw Peninsula in Michigan is a rough and rugged place. It is full of ghost towns, abandoned mines, lighthouses, waterfalls, and remarkable beauty. The discovery of copper there, turned it into a thriving region that made millionaires and then paupers of the same men. Communities were carved out of the Lake Superior wilderness and then died as quickly as they rose. Like many places in Copper Country, Lac La Belle rose as a community during the days of the copper rush.
But, long before the copper rush, the mineral had been mined and sought after. For thousands of years the natives had mined the soft metal, pulling it from the ground with their bare hands and then pounding it into ornaments and weapons. This early “copper culture” mined millions of tons throughout the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale. Near Lac La Belle, one of the largest archaeological finds of “copper culture” artifacts was discovered. Like those that came later, the copper of the Keweenaw was a commodity for the natives that gave them wealth and stature.
Lac, La Belle Marina. It is a public access for Lac La Belle and Lake Superior for the area.
Lac La Belle was dubbed “beautiful lake” by the early French trappers and lies south east of Copper Harbor on the Keweenaw Bay side of the peninsula. It is as far north as one can go on the east side of the Keweenaw Peninsula. The name “beautiful lake” still fits. Lac La Belle was probably long ago a part of Lake Superior because it sits so close the Beta Grise bay shoreline. It is overlooked by Mount Bohemia, one of the tallest of the Keweenaw mountains. Today the mountain supports a ski resort but over a century ago it supported much more.
A very grey Bete Grise bay on a very grey Lake Superior Day.
Bete Grise means “Grey Beast” and was supposedly given because of sightings of a strange unidentifiable grey creature that roamed the area. Another explanation for the name is that the Natives burned the blueberry bogs and the smoke hung over the lake and looked like a grey beast. My personal feelings are that it was given the name because on some days, Lake Superior can take on a dark grey look that can be frightening. I suspect that the “beast” is Lake Superior. Another legend of Bete Grise is that the sand at the beach here, “sings.” It is from a legend of a Native woman that lost her husband to Lake Superior and the noise from the sand is her calling to him. It is a kind of squeaking sound that the sand makes when you hit it hard with your hands or feet. I have noticed this phenomena along other parts of Lake Superior including Grand Sable Dunes and always thought it was pretty cool that you could make the sand squeak.
Lac La Belle is located on the east or “lee” side of the Keweenaw Peninsula. The west side, which includes Copper Harbor and Eagle Harbor, could see rough weather on a regular basis. It made it hard to ship copper from these ports due to Lake Superior’s unpredictability. Lac La Belle was connected to Lake Superior and Bete Grise bay by the Siby River, which no longer exists. A canal was dug and what used to be the river is now the Mendota Canal. It was an ideal port for shipping the riches of the Keweenaw.
Loading copper in the Keweenaw. This gives some idea of the amount that was being removed from the Peninsula. Though this wasn’t taken in Lac La Belle, it IS from Copper Country and Illustrates what Lac La Belle looked like at the time.
As early as the 1860’s Lac La Belle was looked at as an alternative harbor by the Mendota Mining Company which was mining copper and silver a few miles to the north. When it was dug, the lake became a hub of activity as a railroad was built connecting the area to mining throughout the Keweenaw. A smelting and stamp mill was built at the base of Mt. Bohemia and Lac La Belle soon filled with ships waiting to pick up loads of copper and lumber. Traffic was heavy enough that by 1870 a lighthouse had been established at the Canal mouth on Lake Superior marking the entrance to the harbor of refuge. The Mendota/ Bete Grise Lighthouse, it’s known by both names, still stands today. By the 1880s the region was thriving.
This is how the Mendota Lighthouse and and canal looked in its heyday. It still stands today with with a very different view.
Though mines were working in the surrounding hills, Lac La Belle was quietly being discovered for another reason. Fishing. The lake was teeming with perch, bass, pike, and walleye. Around the turn of the century, sportsmen became regular visitors to the area and as the mines played out and slowly died, Lac La Belle transformed. It became a place for sportsmen and tourists. Resorts grew up at the base of Mount Bohemia along the lake shore. It remains so today.
The tiny hidden community of Lac La Belle, is located in one of the most picturesque places in the Keweenaw peninsula. Nestled in the valleys of Mt. Bohemia and Mt. Houghton, the lake reaches towards Lake Superior. A channel allows the lake to flow out past the iconic Mendota Lighthouse located at Bete Grise harbor. Because there is no campground at Lac La Belle, few of the countless visitors to Copper Harbor venture down to this windswept point and see the eastern shore of the Keweenaw and of Lake Superior.
Outdoor Recreation Level: Expert. This pulled into the Gas pump at the Bear Belly Inn at Lac La Belle. I was impressed.
The small resorts surrounding the lake, some over a century old, are amazing places to stay. With private cabins and boat rentals, these places can provide a vacation that is comfortable and pleasant. I’ve found from experience, staying in these small resorts can be much less expensive than staying in a motel and in some cases less than a campground. Their comforts, most of them are fully functional cabins with baths, showers and dinettes, are those of a small home.
This is the cabin I stayin while in Lac La Belle. It’s a great place to come back to after a long day.
Haven Falls runs through the heart of the small community and is surrounded by a small but beautiful park. This little stop should be a part of any trip to the Keweenaw Peninsula. If nothing else, a picnic next to a waterfall and a lake is something you don’t get everywhere.
Haven Falls has a nice little park surrounding it that is an ideal place for a picnic.
Many of the resorts rent kayaks and boats. Lac La Belle is an incredible place to paddle. With both Mt. Bohemia and Mt. Houghton overlooking the lake, it is a sight only found in the Keweenaw. Through the canal and past the Mendota Lighthouse into Lake Superior is a memorable paddle. (Caution: the convergence into Lake Superior can be treacherous.) When I paddled it, there was little breeze and a calm sunny day. It was idyllic. I found myself periodically just floating, taking it all in.
Paddling Lac La Belle with Mt. Bohemia in the background.
When I got back into shore, I went to the Bear Belly Inn, next to where I was staying and had a cheeseburger and a beer. While I was in the area, I ate here a lot. An excellent place to eat and relax, it also sports a store and has gas. You can rent a boat or kayak here.
This is the interior to the Bear Belly Inn. Great food and beer here, especially their egg rolls.
The old railroad grades of the mining days are now ATV trails that crisscross through the peninsula taking riders into the depths of the Keweenaw wilderness through ghost towns and old mining ruins.
Instead of mining, Mt. Bohemia now supports a ski hill, resort, and an excellent restaurant. There is also a public beach along the Lake Superior shoreline. A drive to the end of the road, there is only one, will take you to the canal and face to face with the Mendota lighthouse on the other side.
The Mendota / Bete Grise Lighthouse as it appears today. Nearly enshrouded by pines it is now private property.
Lac La Belle has always been a favorite place of mine in the Keweenaw. The drive on the eastern shore of the Keweenaw, known as the Gay/Lac La Belle Road, is rarely traveled and reveals some of the nicest Lake Superior scenery of any drive. This tiny hidden place in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is one of the overlooked gems of Lake Superior.
Mikel B. Classen has been writing and photographing northern Michigan in newspapers and magazines for forty years. Creating feature articles for magazines and newspapers about the life and culture of Michigan’s north country. A journalist, historian, photographer, and author with a fascination of the world around him, he enjoys researching and writing about lost stories from the past. He is founder of the U.P. Reader and is a member of the Board of Directors for the Upper Peninsula Publishers and Authors Association. In 2020, Mikel won the Historical Society of Michigan’s George Follo Award for Upper Peninsula History.
Classen makes his home in the oldest city in Michigan, historic Sault Sainte Marie. He is also a collector of out-of-print history books, and historical photographs and prints of Upper Michigan. At Northern Michigan University, he studied English, history, journalism, and photography.
His books, Au Sable Point Lighthouse, Beacon on Lake Superior’s Shipwreck Coast (2014) and Teddy Roosevelt and the Marquette Libel Trial (2015) were published by the History Press. His book of fiction, Lake Superior Tales, won a 2020 U.P. Notable Book Award. Points North (2019), a nonfiction travel book, received the Historical Society of Michigan’s, “Outstanding Michigan History Publication,” along with a 2021 U.P. Notable Book Award. Since then, he has released, True Tales: the Forgotten History of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula (2021), and Faces, Places, & Days Gone By, a Pictorial History of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula (2022 ).
Classen is co-author of the Yooper Ale Trails (2023) along with Jon C. Stott all published by Modern History Press. In late 2023, Mikel released his first novel, The Alexandria Code, an Isabella Carter Adventure, published by Modern History Press. Mikel’s newest endeavors are the Yooper History Hunter Series, the first of which is Old Victoria, a Copper Country Ghost Town and the infamous Piracy on the Great Lakes: True Tales of Freshwater Pirates.
To learn more about Mikel B. Classen and to see more of his work, go to his website at www.mikelbclassen.com.
