Overview of the north Union Street bridge over the Boardman River taken from the tower of the Traverse City State bank. Steamer ”Puritan” on the bay, ca. 1910-20. Image courtesy of Traverse Area District Library, Local History Collection.
Taken from third floor of the Fifth Third Bank building (formerly, the Traverse City State Bank), two photographs taken more than a hundred years apart tell us about the dramatic changes Traverse City has experienced with regard to its water front.The older picture shows a waterfront dominated by industry and the railroads.The original Morgan canning plant, looking like an A-frame, occupies space at the very end of Union Street.The railroad station stands to the left, tracks running along the Bay in either direction.Ramshackle frame stores line the east side of Union, north of the northern-most bridge over the Boardman River.
View from Fifth Third Bank at 102 W Front Street in April 2016, looking north. Image courtesy of the author.
The recent picture startles us with its emptiness: no railroad station, no manufacturing plants, no railroad tracks.Open space and parking lots take their places, along with an expressway (Grandview Parkway), and a marina, with slips unoccupied on this early spring day.
Suitably, the Visitors Center replaces the train station, a change symbolic of how the Bay has come to be seen.No longer was it regarded as a place to load and unload the stuff of industry.Instead, it became a place to appreciate natural beauty in all four seasons.But the capitulation of space to provide for the needs of automobiles poses a contradiction: Can the noise and fumes of cars coexist with the fragile beauty of the Bay?City residents hold starkly different opinions.
This fun poem comes to us courtesy of the Kingsley Branch Library, where it resides in their local history and genealogy collection. We hope it gets you in the mood for May, also known as National Barbecue Month.
Rowell J. Blackhurst married into the famed Halladay family of Mayfield (yes, those Halladays), and remained a prominent fixture in the community, both in his professional career and philanthropic activities. He was also, clearly, a man of verse and a keen observer on human nature.
These guys are ready to party, beer and barbecue-style. Gentlemen sitting outside the Gibbs and Knight Mill office at Mayfield, 1906. Image courtesy of the Floyd Webster Historical Photograph Collection, Kingsley Branch Library.
His poem is littered with clues that tell us about himself and the era he lived in. Let’s look at one in particular: Why would people in “the autumn of thirty four…thank God that they hadn’t starved to death?” No great famine befell our region during that time. My guess is that Blackhurst felt the nation’s suffering was waning after the stock market crash of 1929 and the Depression, even in rural Mayfield. Or did the line refer to the end of Prohibition (which took effect in 1934), that unhappy time nudging some to near “starvation”? That might better explain the later references to the volume of alcohol consumed at the picnic.
With those national events framing the celebration the poet goes on to describe, one wonders at the seemingly thanklessness of some of the attendees. But, let’s be real. People have always had opinions, and that will continue, in good weather and bad.
Without further ado, our poet invites us to Mayfield for a good ol’ fashioned Bar-B-Que, with all of his neighbors:
“The Bar-B-Que
In the good old days of the pioneer,
Lots of whiskey and little beer:
Mayfield in 1901, when “Pine was King.” Image courtesy of the Floyd Webster Historical Photograph Collection, Kingsley Branch Library.
Up in the northland — Pine was King —
But the head saws’ whine and the axes’ ring
Vanished the ruler, made him feel
The crushing pressure of steam and steel.
But Tide nor Time for none may wait,
And thirty two years roll by my gate.
From Past to Present — a step, no more —
Then came the autumn of thirty four;
Heard the Public with bated breath
Thank God that they hadn’t starved to death.
Now a Bar-B-Que was the general choice
Of a manner whereby they might rejoice.
So they bought a bull from a farmer lad,
And they dressed it out and brought it down
To the Public Grove in the old home town.
Then they hired a guy who was heard to boast
A thorough knowledge of how to roast
A bull, in a manner quite alright
To tempt a pernickety appetite.
The village portals swung open wide
To welcome the entire countryside;
With races and games and a dance and a show —
And a stand where the thirsty could quickly go
In order to aid the spirit of cheer
With an ice-cold bottle of Hi-powered beer.
And all forenoon on the autumn day
The local butcher slashed away;
Pileing [sic] up beef in a puddle of blood
To be washed down with coffee the color of mud.
But alas, and alack, it is sure hard to please
Such a throng as milled restlessly under the trees.
Some stood ’round and argued the critter was raw
While others were busily stuffing their craw;
Some stoutly maintained that the thing needed salt
But nobody noticed a shortage of malt.
Some said that to eat it they’d never be able,
That it would have been warmer left tied in the stable.
Politicians were clamoring loudly for votes
And the beer drinking public was feeling its oats.
The races, the ballgame, and even the show,
went off just as they were intended to go;
But the dance in the evening turned into a race
‘Twixt the hall in the woods and Baldy’s beer place.
But finally it ended as everything must.
Whether it be a success or a ‘bust’;
And though some maintained ’twas a howling success
Others decried it a miserable mess.
Some like it, some didn’t , it’s hard to say who —
For a great deal depends on — The Old Point of View.
Traverse City has been home to many talented artists. Among the best known are William Holdsworth, Fred Noteware, Ezra Winter and Maude Miller Hoffmaster. In 1906 another well known artist purchased a modest house on Randolph St. and moved his family from Chicago, where he had established quite a reputation for his fine art work.Oldrich Farsky, a Servian-born artist, received his training beginning at age fifteen, first in Prague and Bohemia, then in Belgium, Germany, Italy and Paris. Coming to America in 1888, he settled in Chicago and established a studio where, for over sixteen years he created his popular paintings.He is best known for his landscapes, but also created portraits.A life-sized portrait of General Sherman, completed in 1894, was for many years on display at the public library in Chicago.
The Czech-Slovak Protective Society building, Front Street, Traverse City, undated. Image courtesy of the author.
Having studied extensively in Europe, he had been exposed to the best art in the world.He spoke four languages, but struggled with English. During his time here, he found kinship within the large Bohemian community of Traverse City where he could easily communicate with those who belonged to theC.S.P.S club on Front St. The Czech-Slovak Protective Society, a Bohemian fraternal organization, had been established in Traverse City in the 1880s. Because Traverse City had an active lodge, the painter felt at ease with people who shared his heritage and spoke the same language.
In 1907 heinterviewed some of the Bohemian pioneers of Traverse City and wrote an article which was printed in the 1908 Amerikan Narodni Kalendar, an annual journal published in Chicago that featured biographies and stories of Bohemian immigrants in America. The article containedthe stories and photographs of Czech settlers who had arrived in the city as early as the 1850s. Farsky also provided illustrations for the article. It was translated into English in 1977 and distributed locally.
A Farsky original, untitled, 1890s. Image taken from online auction.
The people of Traverse City seemed fascinated by Oldrich Farsky and his art. Described as a modest and gentle man, even with his fame as an artist, he never showed any arrogance. “With all that he has accomplished, so retiring is the man that were one to meet him without knowing that is the artist, Farsky, one would never imagine that he was talking with a man who is known by his work on both sides of the water.” [E R 8-30-1910] He willingly and often shared his work with the community. In 1906, several of his paintings were put on display at the Carnegie Library on Sixth street. The exhibition included eight of his latest works.“Sheep in a Stable”, “A Night on Lake Erie”, “Scene After a Rain”, and “Scene After a Storm” were among the pieces he shared for all to admire and many came to see them. Nineteen of his paintings were put display at the C.S.P.S. hall during theAug. 1908 fair and carnival where they drew hundreds who came just to see his work.
Farskypurchased a couple of small farms in the area where he tried his had at fruit farming, but hismain residence was a house at 904 Randolph St.In the warm months, he spent many hours walking along the bay or in the woods looking for scenes to paint. “In company with his youngest daughter, many a long tramp has he taken in the woods about the city, the two finding the greatest delight in these walks. On several occasions they have walked the entire distance to Old MIssion, and return, and many choice paintings of the peninsula scenery were the result, which found ready sale in Chicago art houses.” [RE 8-30-1910]
Skilled in cleaning and retouching fine art, he was often hired to care for the collections of wealthy Chicagoans. More than once, he brought a customer’s entire collection of works by “the Masters” to his home for repairs, touchups and cleaning. One collection he worked on belonged to a man named Julius Franc and was reported to be worth $75,000 (in today’s money that figure would exceed one million dollars).
Farskytraveled between Chicago and Traverse City regularly during the four years he resided here because the market for his work was greater in the city. However, local physician Dr. Lafayette Swanton, was particularly fond of Farsky’s work. He purchased several including a scene of two peasant girls carrying their harvest and waiting by the water for a boat. The detail of the painting was described in the paper. One of the girls “is looking off over the water, and in her eyes there is an undefined longing for something, it seems that the girl herself does not realize just what is in her heart. She sees the boat, but she is looking for more than that, and it gives one a feeling of sadness as he studies her face…The detail work in this painting is exceptionally fine…it has been a labor of love with the artist, and every blade of grass, every flower, each ripple of the little river, speak for this.”[ER 8-27-1910] Other Farsky paintings that Dr. Swanton purchased were one of a flock of huddled sheep in an enclosure, and the other of a young girl, the artist’s daughter.
Abraham Lincoln, Portrait in Oil, Odrich Farsky, 1909. Photo of Lincoln Oil provided by Adam Gibbons, teacher at Riverside Brookfield High School in Riverside, IL.
For the 1909 Lincoln centennial celebrations, Farsky created two charcoal sketches and an oil portrait of Abraham Lincoln which were hung on display at the high school.Farsky created the charcoal drawings on site. He set up his easel around 10:30 in the morning and finished them around 5 p.m. “He did not stop for lunch, and would eat nothing until the portraits were completed. “When we work, we do not eat,” he said.” [TCRE 2-12-1909]
Why Oldrich Farsky chose to live in Traverse City is uncertain. The area was well known in Chicago by those who came here in the summers to seek relief from city life. Perhaps he was at a point in his life where he needed a break from the stress of the city. Here Farsky found inspiration in the beauty of the hills and water. How many paintings were inspired here will never be known, but after his time here, he did move into creating more landscape paintings.After only four years, in August 1910, Oldrich Farsky and his wife Beatrice moved back to Chicago. They remained in the Oak Park area through the 1920s where he continued to paint and hold exhibitions.Around 1928,they settled in Stevensville, Berrien County, Michigan, until Beatrice died in June 1939 and Oldrich only a month later. They are buried in the Bohemian National Cemetery in Chicago.
Description of Abraham Lincoln, Portrait in Oil, Odrich Farsky, 1909. Photo provided by Adam Gibbons, teacher at Riverside Brookfield High School in Riverside, IL.
Julie Schopieray is a regular contributor to the Grand Traverse Journal.
This follow-up article to one published in our March issue on Passenger Pigeons was inspired by the following correspondence your editors received from an admiring reader:
“I thoroughly enjoyed your recent article on passenger pigeons. Since the topic isn’t discussed very much I thought I would seize the opportunity to share some of my notes on the topic.
A unique source (locally) is a personal history, “A Brief Sketch of the Life of Charles B. Slyfield,” that resides at the Benzie Shores District Library, with copies of it held at the Benzie Area Historical Museum. Mr. Slyfield’s history is thirty-some pages and covers commercial fishing, tug operations, the history of Frankfort, and his dog Hero in addition to pigeon hunting. ~ Andy B.”
Naturally, our regular contributor Stewart McFerran took to this new resource with a renewed vigor on the subject of Passenger Pigeons. Charles B. Slyfield (1854-1924) was a fisherman and lighthouse keeper at Frankfort, in addition to a hunter. ~ Your editors at Grand Traverse Journal
by Stewart A. McFerran
Smith Bennett, Passenger Pigeon flock being hunted, from “The Illustrated Shooting and Dramatic News”, 3 July 1875.
About the first of May we pitched our tent and set and baited the traps. Father had hired William Salsgiver and his net to work with us as he was an expert pigeon trapper. The pigeons nested up river about five miles and would fly just as soon as day would break. The first flight would be all males. Then about 7 a.m. the females would start and keep it up until about 10 a.m.
Father rented 40 acres of marsh land on the South side of the Betsy River where there was situated a salt spring and pigeon marsh where the pigeons would assemble in great numbers to eat the muck and drink the water. (A Brief Sketch of the Life of Charles B. Slyfield, published in 1912)
Needless to say a slaughter of passenger pigeons ensued. However, these observations from Slyfield’s younger years bring up some questions with regard to the extinct bird. Why would they “eat the muck”? Was there some sort of larva or invertebrate that was nutritious within the muck? Or was there a mineral that the birds craved?
The segregated flights from the nesting ground to the feeding ground is in itself a fascinating detail.
In addition to nesting habits, Slyfield provides detail on their cross-lake roosting and feeding habits: “Old hunters and sailors tell me that great numbers of pigeons had their roost in Wisconsin and flew to Michigan each morning to feed on Michigan beechnuts.” By his reckoning, as the pigeons flew at a speed of I believe 180 miles an hour, they could cross the lake in 20 minutes. [Note: the fastest bird is said to be the white throated needletail which can attain a speed of 105 mph in horizontal flight]
Readers of Slyfield’s biography can appreciate the detail he offers about the pigeons, and we realize this deep understanding of the pigeons’ habits were also just the thing that allow hunters to exploit them in such a shamelessly unsustainable way. Certainly, as Slyfield includes the Passenger Pigeon extinction event in his memoir, he must have realized by the end of his life what it meant for the ecology of the region. Details of ecological relationships that Passenger Pigeons had are fascinating.
Another Benzie County native, author Bruce Catton, also wrote about the tactics of Passenger Pigeon hunters, some years after Slyfield’s death:
Men caught birds alive by fastening big nets to the tops of springy saplings, fastening the nets close to the ground, baiting the area and then springing the trap when the birds came to eat; it was said that a single trap would catch from three to five hundred pigeons.
James St. John, Stuffed male passenger pigeon. From the Field Museum of Natural History collection.
The new theology has borrowed, without credit, one of the fundamental planks in the old religion: despite his disclaimers, man stands at the center of the universe. It was made for him to use, and the best and wisest men are those who use it most lavishly. They destroy pine forests, and dig copper from beneath the cold northern lake, and run the open pits across the iron ranges, impoverishing themselves at the same time they are enriching themselves; creating wealth, in short by the act of destroying it, which is one of the most baffling mysteries of the new gospel.
Before “sustainability” terminology was coined and in common use, Catton wrote about “the mysteries of the new gospel” in his 1972 memoir Waiting for the Morning Train. This, in my view, makes him not just an important writer of history but an unappreciated environmental writer.
We may not be able to watch the majesty of a cloud of Passenger Pigeons in the sky today, but the vivid descriptions Slyfield and Catton survive on as a record of their existence, even if questions about their muck-eating remain unanswered. Hopefully, their writings also provide a sobering reminder for those who would abuse our Region’s natural resources.
Copies of Mr. Slyfield’s biography are available for review at the Benzie Shores District Library, and for sale at the Empire Area Museum. Copies of Bruce Catton’s Waiting for the Morning Train are available for checkout at the Traverse Area District Library.
Stewart A. McFerran is an outdoor enthusiast and regular Benzie-area contributor to Grand Traverse Journal.
Interviewee Brent Koors, at the Northern Michigan Small Farms Conference, 30 January 2016. Image courtesy of Traverse Area District Library.
Traverse Area District Library (TADL), in partnership with Crosshatch Center for Art & Ecology, have released “Food for Life on Two Peninsulas: Stories from Old Farm Families, Migrant Workers, and the New “Foodies” of Grand Traverse Bay,” an oral history collection developed and curated by TADL staff and volunteers. The purpose of the collection is to capture history in the making, focusing on a central question: what has becoming a “foodie” destination meant to the people and farms in our communities?
Interviewee Michelle McClintock (left) and William Derovin, at the Northern Michigan Small Farms Conference, 30 January 2016. Image courtesy of Traverse Area District Library.
TADL staff and volunteers conducted interviews with food producers and developers at the Northern Michigan Small Farms Conference 2016, held on January 30, 2016, and executed by Crosshatch and partnering organizations. Interviewees ranging from former Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) owners to pioneers in regenerative farm animal grazing practices, representing a variety of experiences, longevity, and communities throughout Michigan, spoke on their roles in the local food economy.
“Seasoned farmers and greenhorns alike will find these oral histories to contain an enthusiasm for the love of locally-produced, responsible food, that draws our statewide “foodie” community together. We are grateful to Crosshatch for the opportunity to gather these stories, and look forward adding more,” said organizer Amy Barritt, Special Collections Librarian at TADL. There are currently 10 interviews available.
This high school, featuring the library shown above, received honors for its design in 1959. Gordon Cornwell was the architect of the building. Which school is it?
Just in time for the coming of spring we reprint this section of a speech delivered by Mrs. Hulst in 1915. There she discusses the possibility of making schoolyards into gardens, advocating that woodlots close to school should be left wild to be used as nature study areas. The essay reminds us of efforts in the Detroit public schools to reclaim lots once filled with residential homes, since fallen to decay, and convert them to vegetable gardens.
Community Planting Festivals
by Mrs. Henry Hulst
….Would it not be an act to merit public gratitude if some one should introduce these rare and lovely things [wild plants] into our landscape?
The first thing that we should do is to educate the children and the community to work for beauty.It should be the happy work of the children, aided by the Community, on two joyous Festival Days of the Spring and Fall, to devote time and effort to some public planting of their grounds and roadsides. The planting of their small school yard will be a good beginning, but it is to be hoped that not many years hence the boundaries of the yard will extend until the lot is large—five acres—ten acres—forty.In the Government Bulletins I read of schools in New Jersey and Colorado that are starting with seven acres, and our own new Township School at Houghton has forty.Our National Commissioner of Education is urging the large yard and the farm school.
Is this too much?I own that when I first heard Professor Roth, the enthusiastic Forester of our University, maintain that school lots should be not less than ten acres, I thought him extreme, but when I hear all that a ten acre lot can do for education of the school and the community, it seems moderate, and most wise, and only strange that it has taken so long to arrive at that wisdom.The world seems to have waited until the 20th century for it to be held up as an ideal—perhaps it will not wait another century before the ideal is being widely realized, for progress is rapid in these days.A ten acre lot, equipped with all of the trees, flower and shrubs of the locality, including stock to be used in teaching fruit culture, would make a first class laboratory for the study of the ways of Nature, and would “pay for its keep” many times over in a few years by the higher efficiency of the people of the neighborhood as farmers.I am told that it would pay well as a wood lot, covering fuel expenses and even giving some revenue, while a forty acre wood lot would pretty nearly endow the school and set the community free from school taxes, aside from its value for teaching purposes.What valuation should be put upon it as a things of beauty in the neighborhood, a park where people could gather for picnics, and public gatherings that can be held out of doors?Should cities have all of the parks?Some cities now have more of natural beauty than the open country.
It is enough to say that the ideal school of the future will be a building that will not “just do” but a dignified public edifice, an index to ideals of neatness, beauty and efficiency, as wsell as the learning from books, and where the community will meet to consider social betterment and to enjoy social privileges. It will be surrounded by flowers, which the children love, and tend as part of their work; it will be surrounded by the park of the district.In the city each school will have its garden, and every district will have its playground and park space.
Found in Keeler, Fred Lockwood, Special Day Programs for Michigan, State Superintendent of Public Instruction, Lansing: 1915, pp.15,16
The entire essay can be read in the Nelson room of the Woodmere branch of the Traverse Area District Library.Pages may be photocopied for those wanting to read it carefully at home.
Header image courtesy of the United State Forest Service Region 5, https://www.flickr.com/photos/usfsregion5/3598029211.
When a former science teacher can’t sleep, questions come unbidden to occupy his consciousness. So it was one cloudy night when I conceived the following question: Does the full moon make a high arc across the sky during winter or a low one? After some consideration, I proposed an answer: at the solstice (December 20 or thereabouts), the full moon should mount high in the sky before it begins to set. Conversely, it should have a low trajectory in summer, never getting very high at all.
Such a question is hardly of the complexity Albert Einstein entertained when he came up with the General Theory of Relativity, but then—I am not Einstein. Little questions are fun to explore as well as big ones, and if you don’t achieve fame, at least you gain a small glow of joy when you get something right.
My reasoning went like this.All the planets, the sun, and the moon travel on a pathway across the sky called the ecliptic, which travels through all the constellations of the Zodiac.Why they all do this is well known: they all formed from matter that formed a disc around the sun.While some are more out of kilter than others, basically they race around on the same racetrack, moving from constellation to constellation over the course of the year.
The sun at winter’s solstice is in Sagittarius, a constellation that—in Traverse City, at least—is viewed low in the south in summer.That is why it doesn’t get very high in the sky (and why the weather is so cold) in winter.When the moon is full, it is 180 degrees away from the sun—and must be in the constellation directly opposite Sagittarius, the constellation of Gemini.So…when the winter moon is full, it must rise high in the sky, at winter solstice higher than at any other time.
Comforted with that solution, I went to sleep, the agitations of my brain somewhat quieted.I would only have to wait for the next clear night around the full moon to see if I was right.I expected to see the moon at midnight, high up in the sky, as high as the sun gets at mid-day in June.
And that is what I saw.There it was, its brightness blotting out Gemini (though I confess, I did not want to get out of bed, get out my binoculars, and go outside to check out the stars on this cold night).My hypothesis was tested and was proved right!Such triumphs are the things that illuminate my life.
Now I must wait for the full moon in June, which, according to my theory, should hug the horizon, often getting lost in the branches of trees and behind hills all around. You will help me check that out, won’t you?After all, June is just four months away, and you won’t have to sacrifice yourself to the elements: Just bring a blanket and a bottle of your favorite beverage to enjoy the moon hanging low in the sky.
Of course, you can watch the moon ride high even in March—if you are content to look at the first-quarter moon.It will be in Gemini, just as the full moon was at the winter solstice.Check it out—but first, while you are trying to sleep, hunker down and visualize why that must be so.That is what I do.
Richard Fidler is co-editor of the Grand Traverse Journal.
Arthur (left) and Allen A. Hulkonen, of Kaleva, Michigan.
Arthur Hulkonen grew up in Kaleva, Michigan, at a time when saunas stood in most backyards of town and on surrounding farms. At that time, neighborhood and family saunas were entrenched in community life and stoked with wood on a weekly basis. Routinely, sauna baths were taken and enjoyed by all. Not surprisingly, Arthur’s parents and many of their neighbors hailed from Finland, a country known for its saunas.
Shrouded in the mists of long-forgotten times, the Kaleva were a race of giants called Titans occupying a land called Kalevala. Songs of their deeds are still sung on the heaths of Finland. Many of them tell of a Finnish hero, Vainamoinen, who reveled in sauna heat after performing such deeds as riding an eagle or catching a pike as big as a school bus. When wounded from conflicts, he and his brothers would go to the sauna to heal.
The Finnish national saga known as the Kalevala was compiled by Elias Lonnrot in 1849. Containing 22795 lines of poetry, it became the Finnish national epic and a source of pride as Finland became a nation. Considered a world classic, the Kalevala has been translated into many languages. The great Finnish composer Sibelius was inspired by its power and beauty.
I have a good mind Take into my head To start off singing Begin reciting Reeling off a tale of kin And singing a tale of kind. The words unfreeze in my mouth And the phrases are tumbling Upon my tongue they scramble Along my teeth they scatter.
Sauna Aika, or “Sauna Time” in Finnish. Portrait of Arthur Hulkonen. Image courtesy of the author, Fall 2016.
Wednesday and Saturday were the days they fired the saunas of Kaleva, Michigan. Wood-burning stoves were lit, the heat from the large stoves filling the small cedar-lined rooms. Rocks on the top of the stoves sputtered and popped when splashed with water. Steam enveloped the Hulkonen family and their friends, sitting on high benches and thrashing their skin with birch whisks to improve blood flow.
Many strange beliefs and superstitions are connected with the sauna and with bathing customs. The ancient Finns believed that fire came from heaven, and was sacred. The fireplace and the pile of stone in the sauna were altars, therefore. All diseases and evils of the body were driven out by means of various rites and magic spells. The Finnish word loyly–meaning the steam that rises from the stones–originally signified spirit or even life. In the sauna, one must conduct oneself as one would in church– according to a Finnish saying.
Art Hulkonen met his wife, Mildred, at her family sauna in Kaleva after returning home from World War II, this meeting proving that the family sauna was, indeed, a jolly meeting place. Keeping alive the tradition, Art’s son Allen A. has a sauna in his backyard, now one of the few in Kaleva still in operation. Hulkonen family reunions take place every couple years at the Bear Club.
The Bear Club of Kaleva. Image courtesy of the author.
The Bear Club is north of Kaleva on Bear Creek, its light blue sauna, just feet from the creek where sauna bathers can take a cool dip. The Club has a long history: Vernor Sarenius bought the property in 1912, farming the land until returning to his native Finland. In 1930 it was bought by a group of Standard Oil agents and served as a retreat until 1966, when the Hulkonens bought it.
If you walk down Sampo Avenue in Kaleva, you can see where the saunas once stood. Sauna sites can be found in many backyards there. Once I stopped at a garage sale on Waotski Street and noticed a dilapidated stone shed at the back of the yard. It had been painted pink and had a green roof. Sure enough—the sales attendant told me that it had once been a sauna.
After a few inquiries, I found a sauna behind the barbershop and another behind the hardware store. There is a sauna in the yard of the old parsonage of the Lutheran church and a foundation of a sauna behind the Kaleva Bar. A garden blooms on the site of the Hodimakie family sauna.
Tovo Johnson’s old homestead is just down the road. I could still see the large sign on the sauna outbuilding that reads: “Tovo’s Sauna.” Tovo and all Finnish enthusiasts of the sauna will relate to this verse from the Kalevala:
I have stoked up the sauna Heated the misty bath-hut Softened the bath-whisks ready Steeped the pleasant whisks. Brother, bath your fill Pour all the water you want Wash your head till it is flax Your eyes till they are snowflakes!
Hillari Johannes Viherjuuri describes the whisk–as well as botanical details–that was used in saunas in his book, The Finnish Bath:
Options for making a whisk, from The Finnish Bath by Viherjuuri.
The Birch whisk is an essential part of the Finnish sauna. The best whisk is made from leafy branches freshly gathered in summer. But whisks are used in Winter as well as Summer. In the old days a special week was set aside for making whisks. Curly birch (betula verrucosa) a subspecies of silver birch is the best.
The traditions of Finland live on in Kaleva Michigan and stories from its recent past merge with the mythology of the Kalevala. To tell a final myth, I will speak of Ilmarinen (Vainimonen’s brother) who forged a magic sampo. Clues to the magic of the Sampo are found in the text of the Kalevala. Some claim it is a pillar that connects Heaven and Earth, while others say it is a mill that can make gold out of thin air. When the Sampo was lost, enormous changes rocked the land of heroes before it was returned.The Kalevala reads:
Then the smith Ilmarinen said: Put this into words: ‘I’ll be Able to forge the Sampo Beat out the bright-lid From a swan’s quill tip a barren cow’s milk a small barley grain a summer ewe’s down because I have forged the sky beaten out the lid of heaven with nothing to start off from with not a shred ready made.
The shiny lid of the Sampo was broken and scattered after it was made in Kalevala.
Then she reached for the Sampo With her ring finger: she dropped The Sampo in the water felled all the bright-lid Down over the red craft’s side In the midst of the blue sea; There the Sampo came to bits And the bright-lid to pieces.
The saunas of Kaleva have fallen down, but the sites where they once stood litter the village. A few persons still practice the tradition of sauna there and elsewhere in Northern Michigan–you might see a sauna if you walk down Sampo Avenue.
Who knows? Maybe you will even see the shiny lid of the long-lost Sampo.
Three final notes:
February 28, is Kalevala day in Finland.
The village of Kaleva Michigan will hold Kaleva days July 15 – 17 2016
Kalevala is available for checkout at the Traverse Area District Library.
S. A. McFerran is a regular contributor to the Grand Traverse Journal, and has built his own sauna where he experiences a loyly each week.
What downtown Traverse City building features this beautiful ornamentation?
Thanks to reader Charlene, we have our answer!:
“The building at the NE corner of Front and Union…the old Hannah & Lay Mercantile building.”
The building was erected in 1884. Its construction was covered heavily by the newspaper at the time, the Grand Traverse Herald. If you are interested in reading more about it, copies of the newspaper are available in print and microfilm at Traverse Area District Library, thanks in large part to the recent donation of archival materials made by the History Center of Traverse City.
Locally-produced digital magazine featuring nature and local history from the Grand Traverse Region.
