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History of Indian Beach & Indian Lake Michigan - The Resort Era West of Dowagiac

The History of Indian Beach & Indian Lake, Michigan, is not the story of a city, a village, or a courthouse square. It is the story of a lake that became a summer community. While Indian Lake history starts with the indigenous peoples who inhabited the area for generations, our photos show what life was like in the resort era from 1900 until about 1930. Indian Beach shows the public face of the lake, with docks, boats and visitors gathered at the shore. Indian Lake sits west of Dowagiac in Cass County, in the farm and fruit country of southwest Michigan. In the early 1900s, the shore was filled with cottages, hotels, pavilions, docks, markets, and bathing places. The names still carry an old lake-season sound: Indian Beach, Wiest’s Resort, Bird’s Nest Inn, Patz’s Corner, Pottawama, Ongwanada and Gilbert Castle. This was not a random cluster of cottages. It was a working resort district. People arrived by trolley, steamer, boat, carriage, and, later, automobile. They came for meals, swimming, fishing, boating, dances, picnics, and a few days away from work. Before Indian Lake: Woolman’s Lake And The Potawatomi Sugar Camps The Crooked Tree - A lakeside view at Indian Lake shows the kind of wooded shoreline that made the area attractive long before resort development. The lake was once known as Woolman’s Lake, a name tied to early settlement in Silver Creek Township. The name later changed to Indian Lake because Potawatomi people maintained maple-sugar camps in the wooded areas near the shore each spring. That detail gives the resort story a deeper start. Before hotels and pavilions, the lake was part of a seasonal Native food tradition. Maple sugaring required knowledge of weather, trees, timing, and storage. It was not scenery for later visitors. It was work, food, and culture. That older story should be handled with care. Early resort operators often used Native names or Native-sounding names to market vacation places. Indian Lake’s name should not be treated as decoration. It points back to people who knew the land long before the resort era. Gilbert Castle And The First Resort Logic Gilbert Castle stood as one of Indian Lake’s best-known landmarks and reflected the early importance of lakefront land. One of the most striking landmarks tied to Indian Lake is Gilbert Castle. William Bragall Gilbert, often called “Uncle Tommy” Gilbert in local histories, settled near Indian Lake in the 1830s. He became a farmer, land speculator, and influential figure in Silver Creek Township. Gilbert Castle, built on a bluff above the lake, became one of the best-known early landmarks in the area. It also points to a key shift. Lake frontage was becoming valuable. What had been farm and timber country could also become cottage country. By the late 1800s and early 1900s, Indian Lake’s future was becoming clear. Land near the water could bring income through cottages, resort lots, and seasonal visitors. That helped set the stage for the resort boom. The Trolley Made The Lake Feel Close Indian Lake Station shows how the interurban helped connect the lake to Dowagiac, Benton Harbor and other southwest Michigan communities. The strange part of the History of Indian Beach & Indian Lake Michigan is this: the lake felt like an escape from modern life, but modern transportation made that escape possible. In 1911, the Benton Harbor-St. Joe Railway and Light Company completed its track work to Dowagiac. The interurban line connected the lake area to a broader travel route serving resort communities in southwest Michigan. Travelers could ride an electric car toward Dowagiac and reach Indian Lake without owning an automobile. That changed the lake. A family could leave a city or town, ride the line, step down near the station and spend the day at the water. Business groups could hold picnics. Cottage renters could bring trunks and baskets. Visitors could move from the timetable to the shoreline in a single trip. Indian Beach And The Steamer Fenetta

The steamer Fenetta shows Indian Beach as a lake landing and transportation point, not just a swimming spot. Indian Beach served as one of the lake’s public faces. It had docks, boats, a gathering space, and shore buildings. One of the strongest pieces of evidence is the steamer Fenetta, shown at Indian Beach. A lake steamer meant organized movement. Visitors did not just stand on shore. They crossed the water, called at landings and moved between resorts. The Fenetta helped turn scattered lakefront places into one connected summer district. Indian Beach drew visitors to docks, boats, and shorefront gathering spaces during the resort era. This is a unique part of Indian Lake history. Many inland lakes had cottages. Fewer can be shown with such a full resort system: a trolley station, lake steamer, pavilion, hotel, roadside store, cottages, bathing towers and amusement-style attractions. Wiest’s Resort And The Rise Of Managed Fun Wiest’s Resort combined docks, canoes, shore buildings and group recreation in one lakefront setting. Wiest’s Resort was one of the lake’s major resort names. It offered cottages, docks, boating, bathing and a large pavilion. It was built for more than quiet weekends. It was built for groups. Its cottages stood on the bluff. Its pavilion offered space for gatherings. Its bathing areas drew swimmers. Earl Wiest’s Resort later appears with the Safe T. Rail Slide, a large wooden attraction built over the lake. Interior of Wiest’s Pavilion - The pavilion interior shows that music, dancing, meetings and rainy-day gatherings were part of the resort business. The pavilion interior shows rows of chairs, lights and open floor space. That suggests dances, meetings, programs, music or other gatherings. A good lake resort needed more than water. It needed a place for people to gather after sunset or when rain moved across the lake. The Safe T. Rail Slide shows how small inland resorts added amusement-style attractions to draw families and groups. Earl Wiest’s Resort added one of the most unusual attractions in the group: the Safe T. Rail Slide. The large wooden slide stood out over the water like a small amusement park ride. It shows that Indian Lake resorts competed for attention. Families wanted fun. Children wanted a thrill. Resort operators knew they had to offer more than a room and a dock. The Bathing Towers, Canoes And The Social Life Of Swimming Bathing at Wiest’s Resort Indian Lake Dowagiac, Mich. 1921 - Swimmers, a canoe and a tall wooden tower show Indian Lake as a busy resort bathing area. Swimming was a major part of the lake’s appeal. The bathing scenes from 1921 and 1922 show a wooden tower, canoes, swimmers and a busy shoreline. The scenes have the look of a supervised resort area. This was not an empty beach. It was a social place. This was not casual access to a random shoreline. It was managed recreation. Platforms, towers, boats and docks shaped how people used the water. The resort made the lake feel safe, social and exciting. Swimming also carried a different look in the early 1900s. Bathing suits were heavier. Families stayed close to the dock. Even recreation kept some formality. Men wore shirts and ties at picnics. Women crossed docks in long white dresses. The lake loosened the rules, but it did not erase them. Bathing at Wiest Resort, Indian Lake, Dowagiac, Mich., 1922 - A second bathing scene confirms that swimming was central to Wiest’s Resort identity. In the early 1900s, lake bathing was still formal by modern standards. People wore heavier swim clothing. Families gathered close to docks. Boats, towers, and platforms created a controlled space for play. Hotels, Dining Rooms, and Cottage Names The Indian Lake Hotel shows the lake’s early hotel-based resort culture. Indian Lake was also a lodging and dining community. The Indian Lake Hotel gave guests a formal place to stay. Bird’s Nest Inn offered a dining room with set tables, chairs and service ware. These were not rough camps. They were hosted vacation places.

Bird’s Nest Inn offered the hosted side of lake travel, with formal tables and service for guests. The named cottages tell another part of the story. Pottawama and Ongwanada show how seasonal homes became personal landmarks. A cottage name could mark family pride, summer memory or a bit of resort-era branding. Pottawama shows the shift from hotel stays to seasonal cottage life. This was the cottage culture that came to define many Michigan lakes. Families returned year after year. Children measured time by swim seasons and porch evenings. Adults built friendships around docks, meals and repeat visits. Ongwanada reflects the custom of giving lake cottages memorable names Cottages gave the lake a different feel. Pottawama and Ongwanada appear as named cottages or cottage groups. Gilbert Castle appears as a named landmark, though it should be described carefully unless property records confirm its full story. Picnics, Business Groups And Shared Summer Time The Business Men’s Picnic shows Indian Lake as a gathering place for local groups, families and friends. The Business Men’s Picnic from Aug. 4, 1910, is one of the most human images in the group. The table is crowded. Adults and children sit close together. It shows that Indian Lake was not only a family getaway. It was also a civic meeting ground. The “wienie wurst roast” from 1916 tells the same story in a smaller way. Children and adults cook outdoors near the water. It is plain, casual and memorable. A 1916 cookout scene shows the simple outdoor rituals that made lake summers last in memory. Patz’s Corner And The Automobile Age By 1926, Patz’s Corner shows a new world taking shape. The market, road and gas pump mark the rise of automobile tourism. The lake no longer depended only on the trolley or steamer. Visitors could drive. Patz’s Corner shows the automobile age arriving at Indian Lake, with groceries, gasoline and roadside service. The automobile helped Indian Lake grow. It also helped end the old rail-based resort pattern. A local rail history account says the Benton Harbor-St. Joe Interurban made its last runs in August 1935, after automobiles and the Depression undercut the line. That is a key shift in the Indian Lake history. The same drive for easy access that created the resort era also changed it. Older Ground Beneath The Resort Story Bluff Cottages at Earl Wiest's Resort Indian Lake Dowagiac, Mich The lake’s resort history sits within a much older regional record. The Dowagiac area is tied to Potawatomi history, and the Pokagon Band remains a major presence in southwest Michigan. The Band’s own cultural history notes the continued connection of its people to the region after the removal era. That history should be handled with care. Early resort culture often used Native names or Native-sounding names to market places. Those names can tell us about the resort era, but they do not replace the deeper Indigenous history of the land. Indian Lake Today And Why The Old Story Still Counts The Lake from the Lawn, Weist Landing, Indian Lake, Dowagiac. Mich The Indian Lake Improvement Association now describes Indian Lake as a southwest Michigan lake community with more than 350 seasonal or year-round residents. The association also notes the lake’s early sewer system as part of a long-term effort to protect water quality. That modern detail enhances the History of Indian Beach & Indian Lake, Michigan, by showing continuity. The old resort operators built docks, pavilions, and attractions to bring people to the lake. Today’s lake community deals with water quality, recreation, boating, and shared stewardship. The setting changed. The work changed. The attachment to the lake did not. Indian Beach and Indian Lake are worth remembering because they show how Michigan vacation life changed in a small place in Cass County. The lake began with older Native use, then became Woolman’s Lake, then Indian Lake, then a trolley resort, then an auto-era cottage community.

That is the strongest point in Indian Lake history: a small inland lake became a public stage for one of Michigan’s great 20th-century habits — going to the lake. Sources for the Story of the Indian Lake History Weist's Pavilion Indian Lake Dowagiac, Mich “A Dowagiac History Timeline.” Dowagiac Area History Museum. Graham and Morton Transportation Company. “Graham and Morton Line.” Internet Archive. “Indian Lake History.” Indian Lake Association. “Our Culture.” Pokagon Band of Potawatomi. “Benton Harbor, St. Joe Railway and Light Company Interurban Car at Eau Claire, Michigan, circa 1912.” Pacific Northwest Railroad Archive. “Trace of Former Interurban in Michigan.” Local Remnants, 15 Oct. 2017. “Benton Harbor-St. Joe Railway & Light Company (E).” MichiganRailroads.com. Graham and Morton Transportation Company. “Graham and Morton Line.” Internet Archive. “Indian Lake Improvement Association — Indian Lake | Dowagiac, MI.” Indian Lake Improvement Association. “Lake History.” Indian Lake Improvement Association. Watson, J. M. “William Bragall Gilbert.” Michigan GenWeb, Cass County Profiles, 2011.

Devyn Mitchell Opens Ribstock Weekend With Packed Patio Set At Thumb Brewery

CASEVILLE — Ribstock opened Friday night with barbecue, cold drinks and a patio crowd packed in tight at Thumb Brewery, where Ferndale musician Devyn Mitchell helped set the tone for one of Caseville’s busiest early-summer weekends. Mitchell, a vocalist, guitarist, live musician and music teacher, performed a run of popular cover songs before a standing-room crowd on the brewery patio. The show came during the opening night of Caseville’s 18th Annual Ribstock Festival, a three-day event built around ribs, live music and small-town summer traffic. The Facebook reel from the performance can be viewed here: https://www.facebook.com/reel/1333262944892751 For many in the crowd, Mitchell’s set was more than background music. Her acoustic style, clear vocals, and easy stage presence gave the patio a relaxed but lively feel as visitors moved between Ribstock events, dinner tables, and the brewery’s outdoor space. Mitchell has built a following across Michigan as a solo performer, bringing guitar-driven covers to breweries, restaurants, bars, private events, and community gatherings. Her appeal rests on a simple formula: familiar songs, a strong voice, and a friendly connection with the audience. Mitchell is a Crowd Favorite That connection shows up in listener comments. “Devyn is fabulous,” one reviewer wrote. “Her voice is like warm butter on a hot roll. Her song transitions are seamless, even in a loud bar or tavern setting.” Another listener said Mitchell’s Thumb Brewery performance made for “a perfect ending to a mini vacation weekend.” Others praised her range of songs and her personality. One reviewer wrote that Mitchell had an “awesome voice and range of songs,” while another called her an “incredible artist with a great voice and great vibe.” Friday’s patio show also gave Thumb Brewery a strong start to Ribstock weekend. The brewery, located at 6758 Pine St. in Caseville, has become a regular stop for live music, craft beer and casual summer gatherings just off the Lake Huron shoreline. Ribstock continues through Sunday with ribs, music, family events and fundraisers across Caseville. But Friday night’s Thumb Brewery crowd showed why live local music remains a central part of the festival’s draw. For one evening, a Ferndale musician with a guitar turned a busy brewery patio into one of the warmest stops of Ribstock weekend.

Port Austin Porch Fest 2026 - Set For June 27 With 26 Music Sites Across Village

Port Austin will turn porches, yards and public spaces into small stages Saturday, June 27, 2026, as Porch Fest XI brings a full afternoon of live music to the Lake Huron village. The free, one-day event is scheduled from 1 to 5 p.m. and will feature performers at 26 sites across town. The lineup includes solo acts, duos, folk groups, rock bands, jazz players, country musicians and big band performers. The event is organized as a walkable music day, with residents opening their homes and yards to the public. Now in its 11th year, Porch Fest has become one of Port Austin’s best-known summer events. Organizers describe it as a community-backed celebration supported by local hosts, businesses, volunteers, civic groups and donations. Music Planned Across 26 Porch Fest Sites The 2026 schedule lists music stops on Lake Street, Spring Street, Jefferson Street, Railroad Street, Washington Street, State Street, Arch Street, Line Street, Union Street, Prospect Street, Omelia Street, Vine Street and at the Veterans Park Pavilion. Performances are split into two main blocks: 1 to 3 p.m. and 3 to 5 p.m. Several locations will host two acts during the afternoon. Scheduled performers include Jessey Adams, Charlie Arnett, Ban-Joes of Michigan, Circle of Friends, Cool for Cats, Grindstone Cowboys, Huron Out, Ira Kyruh, Nicholas James Thomasma, Bill Denbrock Band, Glenbrooke & the Wild Weeds, Douglas Wilson, FranknJude, Gina & Jordan, Boston Edison and others. The Buggs also will perform on downtown streets from 1 to 5 p.m. Details of all performances can be found at PortAustinMusic.com. Weekend Music Extends Beyond Saturday Porch Fest activity will not be limited to the Saturday porch schedule. Several local bars, restaurants and private homes are listed as hosts for additional performances from Friday through Sunday. Friday, June 26, includes music at the Village Green, Pak’s Backyard, Lake Street Local and The Bank Restaurant. Saturday evening performances are scheduled at Lake Street Local, 170 W. State, The Farm Restaurant, Pak’s Backyard, Days on the Lake and The Landing Tavern. A birthday celebration at 274 W. Spring also is listed, with The Country Poor Boys performing. Sunday, June 28, includes Whiskey Charmers at Pak’s Backyard from 2 to 5 p.m. Local Hosts Carry Much Of The Event Porch Fest depends on residents who make private spaces available for public music. This year’s host list includes homes, businesses, the Village Green stage, United Protestant Church and the Veterans Park Pavilion. Organizers also are asking attendees to treat each site with care and leave properties as they found them. Donation jars and 50/50 raffles help support the event. Donations may be made online at PortAustinMusic.com or by mail to Greater Port Austin Arts & Placemaking, also known as GPAAP, with “Porch Fest” listed in the memo line. Posters And Event Items Available The 2026 Porch Fest poster was designed by local artist Tony Moceri. The limited-edition 13-by-18-inch poster is available for $10. Past posters are being sold at reduced prices while supplies last. Porch Fest koozies, stickers and sunglasses also are available. Items can be purchased at the June 20 and June 27 farmers markets, the June 26 Village Green event, during Porch Fest and by calling Dennis Hafeli at 586-381-2020. Planning A Port Austin Visit Porch Fest adds another major summer draw to Port Austin, a village already known for lake access, local food, kayaking, shops, beaches and seasonal events. Readers planning a wider summer itinerary can also see Thumbwind’s guide to the best festivals in Michigan. For visitors spending the weekend in town, Thumbwind’s guide to things to do in Port Austin, Michigan includes local stops, outdoor options and nearby attractions.

Pigeon Band Shell Marks Season 35 With Music, Memory and a Timely Reason to Stop in Pigeon

PIGEON, Mich. — The Pigeon Band Shell is not just booking another run of summer concerts. In its 35th season, the village stage is again doing what small-town venues must do to last: give local residents a reason to gather and give visitors a reason to stop. Official Band Shell listings show the 2026 series opened June 18 and continues with Stone Street Revival on July 9, Justified Quartet on July 23 and Magic Bus Band on Aug. 6 after Mobile Dueling Pianos played June 25. All shows are scheduled for 7 to 8:30 p.m. at Pigeon Recreation Park. The basics remain straightforward. Tickets are $6 in advance, $8 at the gate and free for children 12 and younger when they attend with an adult. Flex passes cost $25 for five tickets. Audience members are asked to bring lawn chairs or blankets, and weather updates are posted through the Band Shell’s website, Facebook page and local radio outlets. If needed, performances can move to Laker Auditorium. What gives the season more weight is the history behind it. The Band Shell’s official history says local residents first formed the idea in 1990 and 1991, built the venue with volunteer labor and staged the first concert in 1991. After a fire destroyed the original structure in December 1998, the community rebuilt it and reopened the facility in 2000. That makes the 35th season less about nostalgia and more about continuity. That is why the 2026 concert series matters beyond music. It keeps alive one of the oldest small-town venues in the Thumb: bringing people into the center of town for a shared night out. The storefronts and amusements have changed, but the basic idea has not. A concert at the Band Shell can still be paired with dinner, a walk through town and a quick lesson in local history. For readers looking for the newer side of Pigeon before the show, Thumbwind also profiled Pigeon’s New Huron Co BBQ Is Serving Texas Flavor With Michigan Hospitality, a restaurant that opened in May 2025 and adds one more stop to the village’s summer routine. In a village of about 1,200 residents, the Band Shell still does work that cannot be measured by ticket scans alone. It gives Pigeon a summer center of gravity. And in its 35th season, that may be the strongest part of the story.

Stunning Hotel Ojibway Sault Ste Marie - A 1938 Look at One of Michigan's Grand Hotels

Step back to downtown and visit Hotel Ojibway Sault Ste. Marie in the late 1930s, when the Hotel Ojibway stood as one of northern Michigan's premier destinations. Opened on New Year's Eve in 1927, the hotel quickly became a landmark for tourists, business travelers, and visitors arriving to see the famous Soo Locks. This Michigan Moments video features a historic postcard view of the Hotel Ojibway around 1938. The scene captures a busy street lined with automobiles, the hotel's distinctive vertical sign, and a thriving downtown during the years just before World War II. For many travelers, the Ojibway represented modern comfort in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, offering elegant accommodations, dining, and easy access to one of North America's busiest shipping corridors. Origins of the Hotel The project was driven by Chase S. Osborn, a former Michigan governor and prominent Upper Peninsula figure. Osborn donated the land and $50,000 toward construction. The final cost reached about $250,000, a substantial investment for the time. His vision was to build an elegant hotel that could match the importance of the Soo Locks shipping gateway. When the hotel opened on New Years Eve in 1927, it quickly became the most upscale lodging in the city. What the Hotel Was Like in the Early Years The Ojibway was built as a six-story brick hotel overlooking the St. Marys River, offering guests a direct view of ships passing through the locks. Early features included: About 90 guest rooms at opening A formal dining room Barbershop and beauty parlor Coat-check room and lounges Modern plumbing in many rooms, including bathtubs and showers These amenities were considered modern luxury in the late 1920s. Architecturally, the hotel used Egyptian-influenced design elements, a popular decorative style of the period. A Social Center for the Soo During the 1930s and 1940s, the Ojibway became a social hub for Sault Ste. Marie. It hosted: Banquets and civic meetings Visiting shipping executives Tourists traveling through the Upper Peninsula Summer visitors escaping urban heat The hotel’s location next to the Soo Locks made it ideal for travelers who wanted to watch Great Lakes freighters pass through the canal day and night. An Unusual Tourist Trend: Hay Fever Refuge One surprising chapter in the hotel’s history involved allergy sufferers. In the late summer, people traveled to the Soo because winds off Lake Superior carried clean, low-pollen air. Guests gathered at the Ojibway and formed a social club jokingly called the “CaChoo Club of America.” For several decades, the hotel functioned as an informal health retreat for hay-fever sufferers. Famous Guests at Hotel Ojibway Sault Ste. Marie Over time, the hotel hosted notable visitors, including: Jack Dempsey Joe Louis Hockey great Gordie Howe U.S. President George H. W. Bush Its reputation spread across the Great Lakes shipping and tourism network. Hotel Ojibway Sault Ste. Marie's Legend of Room 616 Like many grand hotels built during the early 20th century, the Hotel Ojibway has accumulated its share of ghost stories. The best-known centers on Beatrice Deglman, who managed the hotel for decades after she and her husband, Leon, purchased it in 1947. Following Leon's death, Beatrice continued overseeing daily operations until her own passing, becoming closely associated with the property. According to local tradition, Beatrice never truly left. Her former suite is said to be today's Room 616, where guests and hotel employees have reported hearing unexplained footsteps, noticing unusual sounds, or glimpsing the figure of a woman. The room has become a regular stop on local ghost walks and paranormal tours, and some visitors specifically request it hoping for an encounter. While these stories are an enduring part of the hotel's reputation, they remain folklore rather than documented history. No contemporary newspaper accounts or primary historical records have been found that verify claims of hauntings connected to Beatrice.

Whether viewed as a ghost story or simply another chapter in the Ojibway's colorful past, Room 616 continues to add an air of mystery to one of Michigan's most recognizable historic hotels. Hotel Ojibway Sault Ste Marie Today Today, the Hotel Ojibway trademark collection by Wyndham remains one of Sault Ste. Marie's best-known historic buildings, connecting visitors with nearly a century of Upper Peninsula history. The Ojibway underwent extensive interior renovations in the 1980s that preserved the historic lobby while modernizing the banquet halls and adding the Freighters Restaurant. It was officially placed on the National Register of Historic Places in June 2009. Watch the short video above to see this remarkable snapshot of Michigan's past and imagine what it was like to arrive in the Soo during the golden age of automobile travel.

Elkton, Michigan 1940 – The Day the Star Theater Welcomed Hollywood

Watch this Michigan Moments episode as we travel back to downtown Elkton, Michigan, in 1940, when a single photograph captured a community on the brink of change. One vintage photograph tells an entire story. Parked automobiles line Main Street beneath the shade of mature trees. A Gulf gas station serves motorists arriving from the surrounding countryside. The Corner Cottage restaurant welcomes hungry customers for lunch. Just down the block, a brand-new theater is preparing to become the center of entertainment for the community. The Star Theater officially opened on Aug. 23, 1940, giving Elkton residents a modern movie house of their own. Within weeks, owner Gav W. Ackerman sold the theater to Detroit exhibitor William J. Schulte, whose chain included theaters in Detroit and nearby Bad Axe. The change in ownership promised Elkton audiences quicker access to leading Hollywood motion pictures. This short documentary examines what can be learned from a single image. Every storefront, parked automobile, business sign, and theater marquee provides clues about daily life in Michigan's Thumb just before the United States entered World War II. The photograph captures more than buildings. It preserves a moment when small-town America embraced the automobile, modern entertainment, and the optimism of a new decade. What You'll See Downtown Elkton around 1940 The newly opened Star Theater The Gulf service station and Corner Cottage restaurant Vintage automobiles from the late 1930s Main Street businesses serving the Thumb farming community The story behind the Star Theater's sale only weeks after opening About Michigan Moments Michigan Moments brings Michigan history to life through vintage postcards, historic photographs, newspaper archives, and forgotten stories from communities across the Great Lakes State. New episodes feature small towns, ghost towns, industries, transportation, historic buildings, and the people who shaped Michigan's past. If you enjoy local history, please subscribe to the channel and share this video with others who appreciate Michigan's heritage. Related Michigan Moments Episodes Continue your trip through Michigan history with these episodes: Arcadia – Gateway to the Great Lakes Crystal Falls – Iron Will and Water Power Harbor Springs – A Resort Town Takes Shape Concord – Quiet History in Southern Michigan Northport – Small Town, Big Crates Harrisville – Along Lake Huron's Sunrise Coast Browse the complete collection here: Michigan Moments Episodes: https://thumbwind.com/michigan-moments-episodes-and-snapshots/ Sources Ackerman Sells Elkton's Star Theater. Huron Daily Tribune, October 1940. Historic postcard and photograph from the Thumbwind Publications Collection. Additional historical research compiled by Thumbwind Publications LLC. Subscribe for more Michigan history every week.

History of Deford Michigan: How a Small Railroad Stop Became a Busy Farm Community

Take a trip back in time to Deford, Michigan between 1900 and 1920—where steam engines met navy bean harvests, and the post office was the pulse of the town. This short film features rare photos of the history of Deford Michigan with its main street, schoolhouse, dairy factory, and train depot. Part of our Michigan Moments series, this episode brings you to the heart of a rural Thumb town during its most active years. History of Deford Michigan Began at Bruce Station Deford did not start as a large village that later added a railroad. It started because the railroad came first. In 1883, the rail line reached this part of Novesta Township, and the station was first called Bruce after local landowner Elmer Bruce. Arthur Newton laid out the community in 1884, named it Deford, and the plat was filed on July 10, 1885. A late nineteenth-century timetable on the same line places Deford among the Thumb stops between Wilmot and Cass City, which shows how closely the town’s identity was tied to the rails from the start. The Pontiac, Oxford & Northern Railroad depot was Deford's connection to the outside world. Passenger trains, freight cars, mail, and farm products all passed through this station during the early 1900s. When the Pontiac, Oxford & Northern Railroad—later operated by the Grand Trunk system—reached the area in 1883, it transformed a stretch of timber and farmland into a shipping point. The station was originally named Bruce after local landowner Elmer Bruce. Just a year later, Arthur Newton laid out a village and renamed it Deford, honoring a friend whose surname was Deford. A post office opened in 1884, and the village plat was officially recorded in 1885. Deford depot with passengers and milk cans, early 1900s. The image shows that the station handled more than travelers. Milk, mail, and small freight all moved through this stop, tying the village to the farm country around it. Like dozens of Michigan railroad communities, Deford owed its existence to transportation. Farmers could finally move grain, livestock, lumber, and dairy products to larger markets with far greater speed than wagon roads allowed. By the early 1900s, Deford had become the commercial center for surrounding farms in Novesta Township. Main Street Was the Town's Business District Bruce Block and Deford Post Office, about 1910. The building’s facade carries the date 1908, and the scene shows mail service, horse traffic, and the commercial center of town in one frame. The Bruce Block also stood near the Deford Bank, tying postal service to local trade. (Restored Photo) By the early 1900s, Deford had built a compact business district around Bruce Street and the depot. The photos of Main Street and Market Street show unpaved roads, hitching areas, storefronts, wagons, and people standing in doorways or on boardwalks. The streets were not polished, but they were active. A 1914 Chronicle item described Deford as a place “well laid out,” with many sidewalks and a centrally located post office. That brief notice is easy to believe once the photos are set beside it. The Bruce Block stood near the center of that business district. The post office photo clearly shows “BRUCE BLOCK 1908” on the brick front and “DEFORD POST OFFICE” above the storefront. A 1908 Chronicle note also placed local activity in front of A. L. Bruce’s Block and the Deford Bank, while 1910 ads promoted the “Deford Bank of A. Frutchey & Sons.” Together, those records show that the Bruce Block was not a side building. It was part of the business core, and the post office inside it served as one of the village’s busiest public rooms. A walk down Main Street around 1910 revealed a community that had grown steadily for nearly thirty years. Horse-drawn wagons filled Main Street as residents shopped, conducted business, and waited for arriving trains. Horse-drawn wagons lined the unpaved street. General stores stocked groceries, clothing, hardware, and farming supplies. Residents

gathered on wooden sidewalks to exchange news while children watched freight wagons rumble toward the railroad. Market Street connected local businesses with the grain elevator and railroad. The elevator dominated Deford's skyline for many years. The photographs show a town that looked typical of Michigan's Thumb communities, yet every building had a purpose. Deford Hotel, 1912. Local directories listed Hotel McCain as “The Traveler’s Home,” and later notices show the hotel used for public business, not only lodging. Its location near the railroad made it a logical stop for salesmen, buyers, and rail travelers. A business district also needs food, lodging, and repair work, and Deford had all three. In 1902 and 1903, the local business directory listed “Hotel McCain, The Traveler’s Home,” and named Charles McCarty for general blacksmithing. The hotel photo from 1912 fits that record well. It stands near the tracks, with a wagon in front and the road still rough underfoot. In 1914, the Deford Hotel was important enough to host bids for road work, which suggests that it served as a public meeting place as well as a place to sleep and eat. The buildings were simple, but they represented investment and optimism. The Grain Elevator Towered Over Everything Few buildings better represented the History of Deford Michigan than its grain elevator. The grain elevator served as Deford's economic center, receiving crops from surrounding farms before shipment by rail. The History of Deford Michigan is also the story of grain and beans. The elevator photos and the newspaper record line up closely. In 1910, the Deford Grain and Lumber Company advertised flour, feed, bran, middlings, tile, cement, lumber, lath, and shingles. That list says a great deal. Deford was not only buying crops. It was selling the supplies farmers needed to build, plant, feed stock, and keep going through winter. That same year, the Chronicle reported a new grain elevator with a capacity of 8,000 to 9,000 bushels. The paper also reported that one Friday in October 1910, about $5,000 was paid out for beans in Deford. Another 1914 item noted that Farm Produce Company purchases had reached 35,000 bags of beans. Those are not small figures for a village of modest size. They show how harvest season could flood cash into town and pull wagons toward the elevator. The elevator photos help make that economy concrete. One shows the elevator rising over a muddy road. Another Market Center image places the elevator and nearby buildings in the same commercial frame. Farmers came there because rail service, storage, banking, and stores stood close together. This was the point of shipment and settlement. It was where crops turned into cash, credit, and supplies. Market Center, Deford, early 1900s. The photo brings together the elevator, nearby stores, and the broad dirt street where buyers, teamsters, and farmers met during harvest trade. That trade also carried risk. In 1916, fire destroyed the bean and grain elevators, warehouse, and garage of the Deford Grain and Lumber Company, with losses estimated at nearly $15,000. A town built around farm marketing could move fast and grow fast, but one fire could also erase years of investment. Local businessman Amuel Frutchey played an important role in Deford's commercial growth. Besides operating a general store, he helped establish the grain elevator and local banking services during the 1890s, giving area farmers a dependable market. The elevator symbolized prosperity because nearly every family in the surrounding countryside depended on agriculture. The Milk Plant Promised Industry Standard Condensed Milk Company under construction, 1913. The work crew posed outside the new plant as Deford tried to add dairy processing to its grain-and-bean economy. The image captures a short, intense push toward local industry. Deford’s most ambitious industrial project of the period was the Standard Condensed Milk Company. A

January 1913 Chronicle notice said the “wheels” of the Deford plant would start turning in February. That line fits the construction photos: work crews pose outside the unfinished building, and a second image shows the plant from the railroad side, where shipping cars would have been close at hand. The plant represented a shift in the local economy. Grain and beans still ruled the yearly cycle, but condensed milk offered another outlet for area farms and tied Deford to the dairy trade then growing in Thumb counties. The rail-side view of the plant shows why the company chose this site. It needed track access as much as it needed milk. Standard Condensed Milk Company from the railroad side, 1913. The tracks in the foreground show why the site was chosen: the factory depended on rail shipping as much as it depended on milk from local farms. Yet the milk venture also shows how fragile early village industry could be. By spring 1913, the paper was already carrying warnings over stock notes linked to the company, and by December creditors had petitioned to have the Standard Condensed Milk Company of Deford declared bankrupt. The building in the photo stood for local ambition. The newspaper record shows that ambition ran into hard limits very quickly. School Church and Daily Life Deford Public School, early twentieth century. The schoolhouse stands for the local district-school system that served the farms and village households of Novesta Township. The photos of the schoolhouse and church round out the public life of the village. A current district history that tracks the old country schools of Novesta Township lists both the Deford and Quick schools, showing that education in this area was built through small local districts before later consolidation. The schoolhouse photo, marked “Public School — Deford, Mich.,” fits that pattern. It is a brick rural school, practical in plan and solidly built. Early Deford church, likely early twentieth century. Newspaper records show the Methodist Episcopal church serving as a worship site, a graduation hall, and a place for community suppers and funerals. (Restored Photo) The church photo points to another center of daily life. The Chronicle shows the Deford Methodist Episcopal church hosting school graduation exercises in 1910, as well as Ladies Aid events and funerals. That record gives the church a civic role as well as a religious one. It was the place where the town marked endings, meetings, and public occasions. In a place the size of Deford, those uses often overlapped. The Photos Hold the Story Passengers gather beside the Deford depot as a train prepares for departure. Rail travel connected small towns with Detroit, Pontiac, and other Michigan communities. Taken together, the images make the History of Deford Michigan easy to follow. The depot explains how the town began. The Bruce Block and hotel show how it served travelers and local shoppers. The elevator fixes the farm economy in place. The milk plant shows a bid for industrial growth. The schoolhouse and church remind us that the town was also a place of routine, duty, and community. That is why these photos still carry weight: they do not show a legend. They show a working Michigan town as it actually was. Sources Used for the History of Deford Michigan Caro Area District Library. “History - Our District.” Accessed 25 June 2026. “Caseville Critic, 20 Sept. 1895.” Central Michigan University, Clarke Historical Library digital newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 11 July 1902.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 12 June 1903.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 3 July 1908.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 11 Mar. 1910.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 27 May 1910.

” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 18 Nov. 1910.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 17 Jan. 1913.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 2 May 1913.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 19 Dec. 1913.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. “Cass City Chronicle, 5 May 1916.” Rawson Memorial Library newspaper archive. Accessed 25 June 2026. Romig, Walter. Michigan Place Names: The History of the Founding and the Naming of More Than Five Thousand Past and Present Michigan Communities. Wayne State University Press, 1986. Tuscola County, Michigan. “Historical Resources.” Accessed 25 June 2026.

Michigan Ghost Towns - 18 Lost Towns That Tell The State’s Strangest History

Michigan ghost towns are not just places with a cemetery, a broken foundation and a road sign that looks like it lost a fight with a snowplow. They are the remains of bold plans. Some were built around lumber. Some were built around copper, iron, salt, gypsum or railroads. A few had hotels, schools, mills, docks, churches, stores, post offices and enough civic pride to believe the future was settled. A Dirt-Road ‘Downtown’ Near Michigamme Falls Then the future changed. The timber ran out. The copper market collapsed. The railroad moved. Ships stopped calling. Fires burned through mill towns. Sand covered streets. In other places, a nearby town simply won the long fight for business, schools and mail service. That is the story behind this episode of End of the Road in Michigan, which looks at some of Michigan’s little-known ghost towns and the forces that erased them. Michigan Ghost Town Map Why Michigan Has So Many Ghost Towns Michigan’s ghost towns were often built on a single reason to exist. That reason might have been a sawmill, a mine, a salt block, a dock, a railroad junction or a company payroll. When that one anchor failed, the town usually failed with it. That does not make these places failures. It makes them warnings. Many of these towns worked exactly as planned — until the plan no longer worked. Lumber towns cut the forests that kept them alive. Mining towns depended on metal prices they could not control. Railroad towns needed trains that could be rerouted. Port towns needed docks, ships and waterborne trade. A town can look permanent when the mill is running. It can look very different when the whistle goes silent. Fayette: The Iron Town That Refused To Fall Apart Fayette is one of Michigan’s best-known ghost towns because it still has buildings you can walk through. Located on the Garden Peninsula in the Upper Peninsula, Fayette was founded in 1867 by the Jackson Iron Company. The town made charcoal pig iron using iron ore, limestone and hardwood charcoal. For more than two decades, it was a working industrial community with furnaces, docks, homes, stores and workers from several immigrant communities. Then the iron market changed. Charcoal iron became less competitive. The company shut down operations in 1891. In many places, that would have been the end. Fayette got lucky. The townsite later became a preserved state park. Today, Fayette Historic State Park gives visitors a rare look at a 19th-century industrial town that did not get stripped down, burned out or covered by weeds. It is a ghost town with a visitor center, which is about as polite as a ghost town can get. Port Crescent: The Thumb Town Under A State Park Port Crescent once stood near the mouth of the Pinnebog River, southwest of Port Austin. Today, Port Crescent State Park draws campers, hikers, paddlers and stargazers. In the 1800s, it was a busy Lake Huron lumber and salt town. Walter Hume opened a trading post and hotel there in 1844. A sawmill followed in 1851. The settlement grew into a working port with sawmills, salt plants, a cooperage, a gristmill, a wagon shop, stores, hotels, blacksmiths, a post office, a telegraph office and a school. A 1,300-foot well hit salt brine. The town used lumber waste to boil brine and produce salt. That was practical, profitable and very Michigan. At its height, Port Crescent had more than 500 residents. Then the timber declined. Fires damaged the region’s lumber economy. Buildings were moved. The dock came down. By the 1890s, the old town had mostly disappeared. Port Crescent did not get a dramatic goodbye. It became a park. That may be the most Michigan ending possible: the town leaves, the campground arrives and someone eventually asks where the old chimney used to be. New River: A Company Town Near Lake Huron New River Plat Map 1870 New River sat near the tip of Michigan’s Thumb, not far from Huron City and Port Austin. It began as a fishing site and became a small

lumber and salt settlement with a dock, store, church, schoolhouse, cooper shop and worker housing. A company owned much of the town. That meant the same operation controlled the jobs, housing, production and shipping. It also meant the town’s future depended heavily on that business. New River’s salt works and lumber operations gave the place life, but they could not hold it. When timber declined and salt prices weakened, the town lost its reason to keep growing. Today, cottage development has covered much of the former site. The cemetery and buried foundations are among the few traces of a place that once sent freight and passengers across Lake Huron. Alabaster: The Ghost Gypsum Town Alabaster, near Lake Huron in Iosco County, was built around gypsum. The old company village grew around U.S. Gypsum operations, with quarry work, rail cars, a mill and a shipping system. Gypsum from Alabaster helped supply plaster and building materials far beyond the Lake Huron shore. Alabaster is different from a fully abandoned ghost town. People still live in Alabaster Township, and the area remains part of Michigan’s industrial record. The ghost-town label applies to the former company village — the clustered place of worker homes, school, hotel, store, mill and post office that once supported the gypsum operation. The old village faded as company-town life changed. The post office closed in 1962, marking a clear end to Alabaster’s former identity. Berne: The Farm Hamlet Left Behind Not every ghost town had a blast furnace or a mine. Berne, in Huron County, was a small farming hamlet in Winsor Township. It grew as a rural rail stop tied to farm families, churches, schools and small trade. By 1900, Berne had the feel of a country crossroads: farms, a church, a general store and a modest community life shaped by crops, mail, church services and one-room schools. Then nearby Pigeon gained importance. A stronger rail junction and growing commercial center pulled people and business away. Berne did not collapse in a fire or disappear beneath sand. It faded by being outmatched. That is a common Michigan ghost-town story. Sometimes the town that survives is simply the town one mile closer to the tracks. Linkville: The Railroad Stop That Lost Its Standing Linkville's Roller Mill Linkville, also in Huron County, began under the name Kilkenny and later became Linkville. It served local farmers and rail traffic near the Pontiac, Oxford & Port Austin Railroad line. The village had a post office, general store, depot, hotel or tavern, school and churches. It reached about 100 residents in the late 1890s. But small railroad settlements were fragile. Linkville’s post office closed for good in 1913. After that, mail shifted to nearby towns and rural delivery. Once the post office, tavern and train stop lost their pull, Linkville’s independent role faded. Today it is a reminder that a post office once meant more than mail. It meant identity. Sigma: A Forgotten Interior Settlement Sigma, in Kalkaska County, fits the inland Michigan ghost-town pattern. It was tied to logging, farming, roads and the slow formation of rural communities after the timber era. Places like Sigma often left fewer dramatic ruins because their buildings were moved, reused, burned, dismantled or absorbed into farm country. These towns rarely get the fame of Fayette or Singapore, but they show how much of northern Michigan was shaped by short-lived settlements. Sigma was not built to be famous. It was built to serve a local need. When that need changed, the town faded. Freda: The Keweenaw’s Stamp Mill Ghost Freda, in the Keweenaw region, was tied to copper processing. The town grew around the Champion Mill, where copper ore from the Copper Country was crushed and processed. It was a working industrial place with company housing and Lake Superior at its doorstep. When copper production declined, Freda lost its main employer. Without the mill, the town had little chance.

It remains one of the more atmospheric ghost-town sites in the Upper Peninsula, with industrial ruins and Lake Superior weather doing what they do best: making everything look older, colder and more serious. Singapore: Michigan’s Town Buried By Sand 359. Singapore in 1869. Sangatuck, Mich. Singapore may be Michigan’s most dramatic ghost-town story. Founded in 1836 near present-day Saugatuck and Douglas, Singapore was intended to become a major Lake Michigan port. It had mills, stores, hotels and shipping activity. Its lumber helped feed regional growth, especially after the fires of 1871 increased demand for building materials. Then the town’s success turned against it. The forests that protected Singapore from shifting sand were cut away. Without that cover, Lake Michigan dunes began moving in. By the late 1800s, sand was burying the town. Michigan did not need lava to bury a settlement. It had dunes. Today, Singapore is remembered as a lost town beneath the sand, a place where ambition met geology and geology won. Port Oneida: A Preserved Farming And Port Community Port Oneida, now part of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, began with fishing, forests, farms and Lake Michigan shipping. Carsten Burfiend, a German immigrant, became one of the area’s early European residents. Thomas Kelderhouse later built a dock by 1862, and the community grew around cordwood, logging, a sawmill, a store, a blacksmith shop, a post office and farms. By the 1890s, much of the land had been logged, and steamships were moving from wood to coal. Port Oneida’s early port economy declined. The community shifted toward farming, and today its historic farm district helps visitors understand how Lake Michigan settlements changed after the lumber years. Port Oneida is not spooky. It is quieter than that. It feels like a place where someone left the chores unfinished. Pere Cheney: The Ghost Town That Became A Legend Pere Cheney, in Crawford County, began as a lumber town tied to George Cheney, a sawmill and railroad activity. It served as an early community in Crawford County and once had a depot, post office and local businesses. The post office closed in 1912, and the town faded. Then the legends took over. Pere Cheney is now better known for cemetery stories, ghost tales and internet folklore than for its sawmill and railroad history. The cemetery is real. The town’s decline is real. The legends should be handled with care. Still, there is no denying Pere Cheney’s strange place in Michigan history. It is one of those locations where the factual story is strong enough, but the folklore keeps barging in wearing muddy boots. Old Victoria: A Copper Town With Cabins Still Standing Victoria. Stampmill - 1909 Old Victoria, in Ontonagon County, grew around the Victoria Mine, which operated on and off from the mid-1800s until 1921. The mine village once had worker housing and the usual pieces of a copper community. After the mine closed, the village declined. In the 1970s, preservation efforts saved several old cabins, including boarding houses and a family home. That makes Old Victoria unusual. Many ghost towns leave only a cemetery, an old grade or a few stones. Old Victoria still has buildings that help tell the story of mining families who lived near the work, followed the payroll and faced the boom-and-bust life of the Copper Country. Nonesuch: The Mine With The Perfect Name Restored Image of the Nonesuch MIll Nonesuch, near the Porcupine Mountains, may have the most fitting ghost-town name in Michigan. The Nonesuch Mine had copper, but it was difficult to process. Fine copper in sandstone sounded promising until companies tried to separate it profitably with the technology of the time. The mine opened and closed several times from 1867 to 1912. It had a post office, boarding house, school, stores, stage service and a small population during its peak years. But the copper would not cooperate. There was value in the rock, but not enough value that could be recovered at a profit.

That is the cruelest kind of mining story: the metal is there, but the money is not. Disco: The Best Name On Any Michigan Ghost-Town Map Disco, in what is now Shelby Township in Macomb County, was platted in 1849. The name came long before 1970s dance floors, mirrored balls and relatives who should not have been encouraged at weddings. Disco had stores, blacksmith shops, wagon shops, mills, a hotel, a post office and the Disco Academy. Its post office closed in 1906, and the village never incorporated. As nearby development grew, Disco faded into road names, old maps and local memory. Many ghost towns leave behind tragedy. Disco left behind a punchline with historical value. Aral, Edgewater, Good Harbor And Glen Haven School at Good Harbor, Mich. Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore includes several former logging settlements. Aral, near Otter Creek, grew as a lumber town in the 1880s and reached about 200 residents. Its mill closed in 1911, and the town faded soon after. Edgewater, near Platte Lake, used a small railroad to move lumber from mill to Lake Michigan. When the mill closed around 1900, buildings were taken apart and reused. Good Harbor, north of Glen Arbor, had mills, a dock, stores and lumber shipments across Lake Michigan. As timber declined, the town’s role faded. Day Saw Mill and Locomotive, Glen Haven, Mich. Glen Haven had better luck. It began as a Lake Michigan port and wooding stop for steamships, then shifted into other uses. Today, it is preserved within Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Some ghost towns vanish. Others get interpretive signs and a blacksmith shop. Central Mine And Clifton: Keweenaw Copper Towns Cleveland Cliff Mine Ishpeming, Mich. The Keweenaw Peninsula is full of places where copper built communities and then left them exposed. Clifton grew around the Cliff Mine, one of Michigan’s early copper operations. When the mine declined, the town lost its purpose. Central Mine was tied to another important copper operation. It once had homes, churches and a strong mining community. The mine closed in 1898, and the last permanent resident left in the 1950s. Central’s church and remaining buildings still draw visitors. Like Old Victoria, it gives the Keweenaw a visible record of mining life after the payroll stopped. What Michigan Ghost Towns Still Teach Us Michigan ghost towns are not all the same. Some were industrial company towns. Some were railroad stops. Some were farming hamlets. Some were lumber ports. Some were mining camps. Some are now state parks or national park sites. Others survive only in cemeteries, old plats, foundations or family records. The people who lived in these places were not props in a ghost story. They were workers, parents, shopkeepers, teachers, ministers, miners, loggers, farmers, sailors and children. They built communities with the tools they had and the future they expected. Then Michigan changed around them. That is why Michigan ghost towns still matter. They show how the state was built, how fast opportunity could move and how much history can sit quietly behind a campground, a two-track road, a farm field or a shoreline trail. Listen to the full episode of End of the Road in Michigan for the stories behind Michigan’s little-known ghost towns, from Fayette and Port Crescent to Singapore, Pere Cheney, Old Victoria, Nonesuch and Disco. Cited Sources for Michigan Ghost Towns “Ghost Towns in Michigan’s Thumb.” Thumbwind, 30 Apr. 2021. “Vanished Company Town: New River, Michigan.” Thumbwind, 15 Jan. 2021. “The History of Fayette, Michigan.” Thumbwind, 19 Dec. 2025. “History of Berne, Michigan.” Thumbwind, 25 Jan. 2026. “Linkville Michigan History, 1890–1930.” Thumbwind, 25 Jan. 2026. “History of Alabaster, Michigan.” Thumbwind, 11 June 2026. “History of the Ghost Town of Sigma, Michigan.” Thumbwind, 24 June 2026. “Freda Michigan History.” Michigan4You. “Michigan Ghost Town: A Dirt Road Downtown Near Michigamme Falls.” Michigan4You.

“Ghost Towns.” National Park Service, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. “Port Oneida History.” National Park Service, Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. “Fayette Historic State Park.” Michigan Department of Natural Resources. “Port Crescent State Park.” Michigan Department of Natural Resources.

Forgotten History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan (1910 - 1925)

If you want to understand the History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan, start with the railroad, not the ruins. A July 4, 1912 street view shows Sigma as a busy public place, not just a camp in the woods. Sigma was never a large place, and it was never meant to be one of many Michigan ghost towns. It was a railroad town that rose quickly in Kalkaska County around 1910 on the Manistee & Northeastern Railroad’s Grayling branch. Local rail history places Sigma about 10 miles southeast of Kalkaska, and place-name records say it had a general store, a post office opened in 1914 with William T. Kirkby as first postmaster, and a depot that connected it to the timber trade that ruled the region. A Railroad Town Built for One Job Bark Peeling in Kalkaska County The History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan is really the history of a branch line and the timber it served. The Manistee & Northeastern was built mainly as a logging railroad. It carried supplies into camps and hauled logs, lumber, and other forest products back out. Broader histories of the line say the last and longest extension reached Grayling in 1910 and opened a fresh stand of prime timber, which helped extend the railroad’s life. More detailed branch histories state the line reached Grayling on July 3, 1910, and that an excursion train ran the very next day, on the Fourth of July. In that setting, Sigma was born as a practical place. Freight had to be handled. Men had to be housed. Mail had to move. Stores had to be stocked. Winter logging near Sigma: Horse-drawn sleds loaded with timber cross a snowy field, capturing the heavy winter hauling that kept lumber operations moving. That matters because Sigma was not a pioneer village that slowly grew out of farm clearings. It was a service town, built around a transportation line and a timber economy. That gave it energy, but it also meant the town’s fate was tied to a single system. Once the branch stopped paying its way, Sigma would be left with very little to stand on. Sigma Was More than a Lumber Camp - It Had a Soda Shop! Murphy’s Soft Drink Parlor shows that Sigma supported local business and daily town life. Here is where the attached visual record changes the story. People often hear “ghost town” and imagine nothing but bunkhouses and mud. Sigma certainly had those things. Yet the images show a town with more range than that. One postcard shows a crowd gathered on July 4, 1912. Another shows Murphy’s Soft Drink Parlor. Another shows a barber shop scene with townsmen and boys posing with confidence and humor. Another shows members of the Gleaners in ceremonial dress. There is even an image labeled “free delivery,” which hints at the ordinary, daily service work that made Sigma function. Free delivery cart, Sigma: A young man stands beside a simple delivery cart on a rough road, a reminder that even small lumber towns needed daily services to keep community life moving. County historical material helps explain why those scenes belong here. Kalkaska history notes that camp work employed many men, but that social life was carried by schools, churches, lodges, and clubs. In other words, the county’s timber towns were not only places of labor. They were also places where residents tried to build order, ritual, and routine. Sigma fits that pattern exactly. The Cement Block Depot that made Sigma Stand Out Sigma’s cinder-block depot was an unusual station type for Northern Michigan. One reason the History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan deserves more attention is the depot. Michigan rail historians describe Sigma’s depot as a cinder-block station, an unusual material choice for a Northern Michigan depot. That detail is easy to miss, but it deserves a long look. In small railroad towns, the depot was often the most public building in sight. It was part freight office, part waiting room, part symbol. A sturdier depot suggested that the stop mattered. The Manistee & Northeastern was built chiefly as a logging road, carrying supplies into camps and moving forest products out.

Rail history on the line says the last and longest extension ran to Grayling in 1910 and opened a fresh stand of prime timber, which helped keep the railroad alive for a few more years. More detailed line histories say the branch reached Grayling on July 3, 1910, with an excursion train running on July 4. That timing helps explain why Sigma’s holiday scenes feel so proud and public: the railroad was still new enough to feel like a promise. Sigma Depot, early 1900s: A man stands outside the depot, a key building in a town whose rise depended on rail service and the timber trade in Kalkaska County. In Sigma’s case, that cinder-block station now feels almost ironic. It looked more permanent than the town’s economy proved to be. Still, at the time, it would have announced Sigma as a real stop on a real line, not just a throwaway siding in the woods. That is one of the most distinctive features in the town’s surviving record. O’Lairy Camp and the Timber machine If the depot was Sigma’s public face, O’Lairy Camp No. 2 was its economic center of gravity. Archive records and rail history identify O’Lairy Camp east of Sigma as a major visual key to the area’s work life. The surviving views show group shots of workers, horses, rail cars, and steam equipment. One view shows a water structure built on log cribbing. Others in the attached set show rail-mounted loaders, winter hauling roads, immense stacked timber, and teams pulling logs through snow. The work was organized, loud, and relentless. Sigma did not exist beside this system. Sigma existed because of it. 0 O’Lairy Camp No. 2, near Sigma: Workers, horses, rail cars and a steam engine crowd the camp yard, showing the scale and organization of timber work east of Sigma. That is also why the attached family and shop scenes matter so much. They show the side of a logging town that often gets left out. Families lived near the job. Children were present. Business owners tried to keep a storefront alive. Residents marked holidays and belonged to organizations. The History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan is stronger when those parts are included, because they turn Sigma from a work site into a human place. Why Sigma faded so fast Barber shop scene, Sigma: Men and boys pose in a staged barber shop setting, a playful view that shows the humor and social life of a town often remembered only for logging. The best answer is not remoteness. It is dependence. That may sound backward, but the record points in that direction. Sigma had rail access, mail service, a depot, and commercial life. It was connected. The problem was that it was connected for one narrow purpose. The town’s economy rode on timber traffic and the branch that handled it. When freight weakened, the line weakened with it. Railroad histories show receivers moving toward abandonment in 1924, with the Grayling branch effectively gone by 1925. Once that support gave way, Sigma had little else to keep it busy at the same scale. One small human story captures that fragility. Rail history preserves the death of Sigma station agent Luther Lawrence in 1919 after he got up at daybreak to help a patron unload freight. It is a brief note, but it says a great deal. Towns like Sigma ran on labor that was personal, constant, and close to the bone. People were not cogs in a distant system. They were the system. What Sigma still tells Michigan Diligent Arbor Gleaners, Sigma, early 1900s: This formal group portrait shows that Sigma had more than logging crews. Civic and fraternal groups gave the town a social life during its brief boom. Today, Sigma remains on the map by name, but the boom years are gone. That is why the History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan still has value. It reminds us that some northern towns did not fail because nobody cared. They failed because they were built to serve a narrow boom, and the boom ended. Sigma also shows something many ghost-town stories miss. It had civic life. It had a soft drink parlor and a barber shop.

It had delivery service and holiday crowds. It had people who dressed up for group portraits. It had a depot that looked stronger than its future. In that sense, Sigma was not only a lost logging town. It was a place where residents tried, briefly and sincerely, to make ordinary town life in a hard setting. That is what makes Sigma memorable in Michigan history. It was not famous. It was not large. But for a few years, it was fully alive. Works Cited For the History of the Ghost Town of Sigma Michigan “Genealogy & Historical Society.” Kalkaska County Library, Kalkaska County Library, accessed 23 June 2026. Leary, Richard. “Remembering the Golden Age of Railroads: The Manistee and North Eastern Railroad and Its Grand Traverse Connections.” Grand Traverse Journal, 1 Nov. 2014, accessed 23 June 2026. “Mason County Research: Locations.” Mason County Research Center, accessed 23 June 2026. “Manistee and Northeastern Railroad.” MichiganRailroads.com, accessed 23 June 2026. “Sigma, MI.” MichiganRailroads.com, accessed 23 June 2026. “Sigma.” Geographic Names Information System, U.S. Geological Survey, accessed 23 June 2026. “SWS (RMNE) – Grayling on the M&NE.” Geocaching, posted 24 May 2018, accessed 23 June 2026.

Thumb Brewery To Release ‘Collin’s Mild Ale’ For Huron County Nature Center Benefit

CASEVILLE, Mich. — A rescued Blanding’s turtle at the Huron County Nature Center is getting his own beer. Thumb Brewery will host a Huron County Nature Center awareness and fundraising event from 4 to 6:30 p.m. Thursday, July 2, 2026, at the brewery in Caseville. The event will feature the release of Collin’s Mild Ale, a special beer named for Collin, a rescued Blanding’s turtle now living at the Nature Center. The event is intended to raise awareness of the Nature Center’s conservation, education and wildlife rehabilitation work. Representatives from the Huron County Nature Center are expected to attend with information about local habitats, protected species and volunteer opportunities. The brewery will offer complimentary beer samples during the event. A raffle for merchandise also is planned, along with commemorative stainless steel cups sold to benefit the Nature Center. Collin’s Mild Ale will be available on draft and in take-home cans. Collin will not attend the event. Organizers said his story continues to help teach the public about the need to protect Michigan’s native wildlife and natural areas. Collin, the Blandings Turtle at the HCNC Blanding’s turtles are among Michigan’s native turtle species and are known for their high-domed shells and yellow throats. Wildlife educators often use turtles such as Collin to help explain the pressures facing native species, including habitat loss, road crossings and illegal collection. The Huron County Nature Center, located near Oak Beach, serves as one of the Thumb’s key outdoor education sites. Its trails, woodland habitat and programs draw residents and visitors interested in native plants, birds, amphibians, reptiles and other wildlife found in the region. The July 2 event connects that conservation message with one of Caseville’s local gathering places. Thumb Brewery has named the special release for Collin as a way to support the Nature Center and bring more attention to its work. Event Details What: Collin’s Mild Ale release and Huron County Nature Center benefit When: 4 to 6:30 p.m. Thursday, July 2, 2026 Where: Thumb Brewery, Caseville Benefit: Huron County Nature Center Features: Beer samples, raffle, commemorative cups, educational information and volunteer opportunities Note: Collin the turtle will not attend the event

Traverse Regional History Center Looks to Reimagine How Northwest Michigan Tells Its Story

Editor's Note: Thumbwind recently connected with representatives of the Traverse Regional History Center after the organization expressed interest in the research and historical storytelling featured in the Michigan Moments. The center's emphasis on regional collaboration, digital history, and public engagement reflects a growing effort among historians, museums, archives, and independent publishers to preserve and share northern Michigan's past with wider audiences. TRAVERSE CITY, Mich. — A group of local historians, authors, educators, and community leaders is working to create a new model for preserving and sharing the history of northwest Michigan through the Traverse Regional History Center. From Con Foster's Vision to a New Regional History Center Con Foster Museum The nonprofit organization, based in Traverse City, was formed after the closure of the historic Con Foster Museum in 2016. Rather than rebuilding a traditional museum centered on artifact collections, organizers envisioned a regional history center focused on storytelling, technology, education, and collaboration across county lines. The roots of the effort stretch back nearly a century. During the Great Depression, Traverse City businessman Con Foster championed the creation of a civic park along the city's waterfront. His vision included a zoo, aquarium, museum, and public gathering space. The collection of historical artifacts assembled through that effort eventually became the Con Foster Museum and later the History Center. Following the museum's closure, local history advocates began discussing a different approach. "We realized there was an opportunity to tell the larger story of the entire Grand Traverse region," according to information provided by the organization. Today, the Traverse Regional History Center serves the five-county region of Antrim, Benzie, Grand Traverse, Kalkaska, and Leelanau counties. Its mission is to collect and share stories that help residents and visitors better understand the people, places, industries, and events that shaped northwest Michigan. Traverse Regional History Center Focus on Content & Stories Rather than maintaining a large artifact collection, the organization focuses on digital content, educational programming, video storytelling, and emerging technologies. Leaders say the goal is to make history more engaging and accessible while creating stronger connections between communities throughout the region. The organization believes history plays an important role in helping people understand current events, evaluate information, appreciate cultural differences, and develop a stronger sense of community identity. Its long-term vision includes creating a regional hub for historical content while encouraging collaboration among local museums, historical societies, schools, tourism organizations, businesses, and cultural institutions. Looking for a Permanent Home The center currently operates online and is seeking a permanent physical location that would support expanded programming, exhibits, presentations, and community events. The organization's board includes local leaders and historians Bruce Wiegand, George Cochran, author Doug Stanton, Beth Stoner Wiegand, Jill Cooley, and Stephen Morris. Among the center's online offerings are historical videos and educational resources focused on the people and events that shaped the Grand Traverse region. Featured content includes the documentary project "Beyond the Frame" and the ongoing "Elements of the Grand Traverse Region" series. Watch: Beyond the Frame - Orson Peck & The Docks About the Traverse Regional History Center The Traverse Regional History Center is a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving and sharing the history of Antrim, Benzie, Grand Traverse, Kalkaska, and Leelanau counties. Through digital storytelling, educational programming, technology, and community partnerships, the organization works to connect residents and visitors with the people, places, and events that shaped northwest Michigan.

For more information, visit https://traverseregionalhistory.org.

The Quiet History of Concord Michigan - 1900s Postcards Show The River Mill, Depot and A Village That Kept Its Shape

Concord, Michigan has the kind of history that can be easy to miss if you only pass through. It is not a city built around one giant factory. It is not a port town. It is not tied to one national headline. Its story is quieter and, in many ways, more useful. The history of Concord Michigan begins with soil, water and work. The Village of Concord says the first settler was John Acker, who arrived in 1831. Other families followed because the area offered rich soil and a chance to build farms in western Jackson County. The village says the name Concord was chosen because it reflected peace, harmony and neighborly feeling among early residents. That name has aged well. Concord’s old streets still suggest a village built around cooperation: mills, farms, schools, churches, shops and rail service all working in the same small orbit. Watch: Concord, Michigan: The Mill Town That Grew Along the RailsThe History of Concord Michigan Starts With WaterpowerFrom Van Fossenville to ConcordThe Depot Made Concord Part of a Larger SystemMain Street Shows a Town in TransitionThe Woodmen Hall and the Public Life of ConcordSchools, Churches and the Mann HouseBaseball, Springs and the Human Side of TownConcords Area Farms, Stone Walls and SoybeansThe Counterintuitive Lesson of ConcordWhy the History of Concord Michigan Still CountsConcord vs. Marshall: Two Southern Michigan Towns, Two Different StoriesWorks Cited For The History of Concord Michigan Watch: Concord, Michigan: The Mill Town That Grew Along the Rails The History of Concord Michigan Starts With Waterpower Smalley’s Mill, Concord, Mich. — The mill was the working center of early Concord, using the river to support local farm trade. Before Concord became a railroad stop, it was a mill village. Jackson County’s Falling Waters Trail history says the first dam was built in Concord in 1833, when the settlement was still called Van Fossenville. Sawmill equipment followed in 1835 west of the railroad bridge on Main Street. That one fact explains much of early Concord. Waterpower was not scenery. It was industry. A dam and mill could turn timber into boards and wheat into flour. They gave farmers a reason to come into town. They helped create traffic for blacksmiths, merchants, wagon teams and later railroad freight. The old mill images show a broad, plain building beside the water. It is not ornate. It is not trying to impress anyone. It is a practical structure built to do work. That is why it is important. From Van Fossenville to Concord Plat book of Jackson County, Michigan / compiled and published by the American Atlas Co. 1894 Concord was first known as Van Fossenville, a name tied to early settlement. MichiganRailroads.com says Concord was settled in 1832, was also known as Van Fossenville, was renamed Concord in 1836 and was incorporated as a village in 1871. The name change was more than a formality. New communities often used names to market themselves. Concord suggested social order. It made the village sound stable, respectable and ready for families. The community grew in stages. The river and mill came first. Houses and stores followed. Schools and churches gave the village a civic frame. Then the railroad changed the scale of everything. The Depot Made Concord Part of a Larger System Michigan Central depot, Concord, Michigan, 1908 — The depot connected local farm production with wider markets. The Michigan Central depot images are among the strongest in the Concord set. They show tracks, a depot, a water tower, grain handling, horse teams and steam locomotives. The village was tied to the Michigan Air Line, later Michigan Central and New York Central. MichiganRailroads.com places Concord about 14 miles southwest of Jackson on that line. The depot did not simply move people. It moved farm goods, mail, news, freight, tools and opportunity. By 1917, the railroad had an agent-operator in Concord around the clock. In 1920, Concord still handled passenger, freight and express service.

This was a serious operation for a small village. The water tower served steam engines. The elevator served farmers. The depot served everyone who needed to go somewhere or send something. Main Street Shows a Town in Transition Main Street, Concord, Mich. — Horses, wagons, storefronts and early automobiles show the village crossing into the motor age. The Main Street views show Concord between eras. Dirt roads and wagons appear beside brick blocks, commercial signs, early autos and public utility poles. That mix tells a lot. A saloon sign, drug store, bank and garage all appear in the image group. These were not tourist props. They were the daily business of town life. Concord’s Main Street sold medicine, feed, groceries, services and credit. It also provided gathering places. The Farmers State Bank image is especially strong. The corner bank sits under a small tower, wrapped in ivy, with a garage nearby. The scene captures the early 20th century in one frame: money, machines and Main Street confidence. The Woodmen Hall and the Public Life of Concord Woodmen Hall & Opera house next to the drug store, Concord, Mich. — The hall points to fraternal, civic and entertainment life in the village. The large brick building with round windows is one of the most memorable structures in the set. The National Register summary for the Concord Village Historic District identifies agriculture, architecture and settlement as key areas of significance. It lists the district’s period of significance from the 1840s into the 1920s. Buildings like the Woodmen Hall and Opera House, stores and banks help explain why. Concord’s history is not locked in one structure. It is held in the pattern of a village. A hall gave people a place to meet. It helped turn a business district into a public center. Schools, Churches and the Mann House Schoolhouse, Concord, Mich. — School images support one of Concord’s strongest themes: education as a village priority. The schoolhouse images add another layer. Concord was not only a farm and freight town. It valued education. The Mann House makes that point clearly. Built by Daniel and Ellen Mann in 1883, the house brought a successful farm family closer to village schools and social life. The Michigan History Center says the Mann family installed Concord’s first telephone in 1900. It also notes that Daniel and Ellen Mann were college educated, which was unusual for the period. From the Jackson Citizen Patroit 1969 - , National Register of Historic Places and National Historic Landmarks Program Records, Their daughters, Mary Ida and Jessie Mann, became part of a broader story about women, education and public memory. Jessie earned a mathematics degree from the University of Michigan in 1906, according to the Michigan DNR’s historical account. First Universalist Church The First Universalist Church and other church images point to another force in Concord life. Churches served worship, social order, music, lectures, family events and moral debate. In a small town, church buildings were community anchors. Baseball, Springs and the Human Side of Town The 1911 Concord baseball team image gives the story a face. The men pose in uniforms marked with a large “C.” They stand with gloves, bats and catcher’s gear. Their expressions are serious because baseball was serious. 1911 baseball team, Concord, Mich. — The team gave the village a shared identity and public pride. Small-town baseball helped connect communities. Teams traveled, competed and brought people together. A local victory gave residents something to talk about at the depot, store, mill and church steps. The Spring image gives the story a different tone. Two children stand in shallow water near a rocky spring. One drinks. Another reaches down with a cup. It is simple, but it is powerful. The Spring, Concord, Mich. — This image ties Concord’s public memory to childhood, water and place. The spring connects back to Concord’s oldest theme: water.

In this town, water powered mills, shaped settlement and became part of childhood memory. Concords Area Farms, Stone Walls and Soybeans The rural scene in Concord Township shows hay stacks, stone walls, pasture and open road. It reminds us that the village existed because farms surrounded it. Rural scene, Concord Township, Mich. — Farm life supplied the trade that kept Concord’s mill, depot and stores active. The soybean mill image pushes the story forward. By the early and mid-20th century, Michigan agriculture was changing. Concord changed with it. Older flour and grain work gave way to other farm processing and shipping. Soybean mill, Concord, Mich. — The later mill scene shows Concord adapting to new farm markets and products. That is the key to the history of Concord Michigan. The village did not survive by standing still. It adapted while keeping much of its older form. The Counterintuitive Lesson of Concord Hayride through town in the early 1900s Here is the surprising part: being bypassed by some forms of later growth may have helped Concord. Many Michigan towns lost their old commercial cores to widening roads, gas stations, parking lots and midcentury rebuilding. Concord still holds a readable pattern of mill, depot, Main Street, homes, churches and civic buildings. The National Register listing recognizes that broader village pattern. The railroad line no longer serves Concord the way it did in 1920. But the Falling Waters Trail now follows an abandoned stretch of the Michigan Central route between Concord and Jackson. That is not just reuse. It is continuity. Why the History of Concord Michigan Still Counts The history of Concord Michigan is not a story of a lost boomtown. It is a story of a practical village that served farms, used water, embraced rail service, educated its children and built a Main Street that still carries meaning. Concord’s unique historical strength is the way its pieces fit together. The mill explains the river. The depot explains the farms. The bank explains trade. The school explains ambition. The baseball team explains pride. The Mann House explains education, technology and family memory. Concord is a small place with a complete story. For Michigan history readers, that is exactly why it belongs in the Michigan Moments series. Concord vs. Marshall: Two Southern Michigan Towns, Two Different Stories Tree Lined Hanover Street in Concord Concord and Marshall sit in south-central Michigan, but they tell very different stories. Marshall was built with larger ambitions. Founded in 1830, it became a major commercial, political and social center for the surrounding farm region. It was once viewed as a possible state capital. Its streets filled with large homes, civic buildings, hotels, churches and public spaces. Today, Marshall is known for one of Michigan’s most important collections of 19th- and early 20th-century architecture. Concord grew on a smaller scale. It was not a political center. It did not become a showplace city. Its story began with waterpower, a dam, mills, farm roads and later the Michigan Central depot. Concord served the countryside around it. Farmers came to grind grain, ship goods, use the bank, visit stores and meet neighbors. Marshall presents history with size and polish. Concord presents history through use and function. West End Park, Marshall, Mich. That difference is important. Marshall shows what a prosperous Michigan county seat and regional center could become when wealth, politics and architecture came together. Concord shows how a working farm village survived by being useful. Its mill, depot, Main Street, school, baseball team and soybean mill tell a story rooted in daily life. Marshall asks viewers to look at architecture. Concord asks them to look at work. Marshall’s great strength is preservation at scale. Concord’s strength is clarity. You can still read the town’s old purpose: water turned the mill, rails moved the farm goods and Main Street held the village together.

Both towns matter to Michigan history, but for different reasons. Marshall shows ambition. Concord shows function. One became a historic showpiece. The other remained a practical village with a story that still holds together. Works Cited For The History of Concord Michigan Jackson County, Michigan. “Falling Waters Trail.” Jackson County Parks, accessed 19 June 2026. Michigan History Center. “Mann House.” Michigan Department of Natural Resources, accessed 19 June 2026. MichiganRailroads.com. “Station: Concord, MI.” MichiganRailroads.com, accessed 19 June 2026. National Park Service. “National Register of Historic Places — Michigan.” National Archives and Records Administration, 2021, accessed 19 June 2026. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. “David V. Tinder Collection.” William L. Clements Library, University of Michigan, accessed 19 June 2026. Village of Concord. “History.” Village of Concord, accessed 19 June 2026.

History of Acme Michigan - A Remarkable 170 Year Legacy From Mill Creek to World Class Resort

Acme, Michigan sits on the eastern shore of East Grand Traverse Bay, close enough to Traverse City to be overlooked and old enough to deserve its own story. The History of Acme Michigan is not just about resort rooms, golf and bay traffic. It begins with timber, creek water, schoolhouses, rail service and small businesses that served people moving through a changing northern Michigan town. The name Acme sounds grand. It comes from a Greek word meaning a high point or summit. But Acme’s first real strength came from lower ground — Acme Creek, millponds, roadbeds and the rail line that connected the village to wider markets. Watch: History of Acme Michigan: From Mill Creek to Resort PlaygroundHistory of Acme Michigan Begins With Water and WoodA Small Industrial Town Takes ShapeAcme School Bells and Staying PowerThe End of the First BoomRoads Changed Acme AgainAcme's Lunch Stops, Diner Signs and the Motor AgeFrom Golf Course to Resort Gateway in AcmeWhy the History of Acme Michigan Still CountsMichigan Acme FactsHow did Acme, Michigan get its name?What industries helped build early Acme?When did the railroad arrive in Acme?Works Cited for the History of Acme Michigan Watch: History of Acme Michigan: From Mill Creek to Resort Playground History of Acme Michigan Begins With Water and Wood Acme’s founding story has one complication. Different sources give different start dates. Acme Township’s own master plan says L.S. Hoxsie established the village in 1855 and built a sawmill in 1858. MichiganRailroads.com says the area was settled in 1864. The best reading is that Acme began forming in the 1850s and 1860s, with the Hoxsie or Hoxie family central to the first mill and village development. That sawmill was the town’s early engine. In the lumber era, a mill could turn a rural site into a working village. Timber became boards. Boards became barns, homes, stores and freight. The mill also supported wagon traffic, blacksmith work and general-store trade. A Small Industrial Town Takes Shape By the late 1800s, Acme had the features of a serious small town. It became a railroad stop. The township master plan says the village was once promoted as a “coming industrial town.” From 1880 to 1890, it had a hotel, several stores and a shingle mill. Acme Township was organized in 1891, with John Pulcipher as supervisor. In 1901, John Hoxsie and John Scripture started a woolen mill west of the village on Acme Creek. A second woolen mill opened soon after but closed within a year. By 1903, Acme had a sawmill, saw and planing mill, shingle mill, general store, woolen mill and blacksmith shop. The township also had three sawmills, two shingle mills, a township hall, a Methodist Episcopal church, a Masonic lodge and three school buildings. The population was about 200. This is the part of the history of Acme Michigan that may surprise many readers. Acme was not first known as a resort address. It was a compact mill and service village trying to build a broad local economy. Acme School Bells and Staying Power This rural Acme schoolhouse reflects the one-room school era, when education was close to farms and dirt roads. School buildings are often the clearest sign that a town expected to last. Acme’s old school views show two stages of local education. One is a plain rural schoolhouse with a bell tower and nearby outbuilding. The other is the larger Stanford School, a brick building with tall windows and a cupola. Stanford School shows a later and more formal school building, with brick walls, tall windows and a bell tower. These buildings served farm families, mill families and merchants. They also helped hold scattered rural households together. Children came for lessons, but schools also anchored local identity. In small towns, a school was more than a classroom. It was a meeting point and a statement of confidence. The End of the First Boom Acme’s first economy depended heavily on timber. That made growth possible, but it also made the town vulnerable.

As the best timber was cut, mill activity slowed. The township history says stores closed, the hotel was torn down and the woolen mill eventually closed. This was common across northern Michigan. Many towns rose quickly during the lumber boom, then faced a new reality when the forest no longer supplied easy profit. Acme did not disappear, but it had to change. Good farmland took on greater value. Orchards and other farming became more important. Bates and Yuba, other early settlements in Acme Township, also served rural trade. Bates had a railroad stop, general store, post office and cold storage warehouse. It became a shipping point for potatoes, fruit, lumber, cordwood, logs and tanbark. Roads Changed Acme Again Parked cars and shaded grounds point to Acme’s role in the early auto-travel era. The next chapter came with roads and automobiles. Michigan road building expanded in the early 20th century, and Acme was well placed at important travel routes. The township master plan identifies the U.S. 31 and M-72 junction as one of the main gateways to the Traverse City area. The attached roadside views show this change clearly. By the 1930s and 1940s, Acme was no longer just a mill and farm community. It was serving motorists. People stopped for shade, meals and rest. They came north for the bay, for vacation and for the experience of small-town northern Michigan. Acme's Lunch Stops, Diner Signs and the Motor Age Stony Hollow Hut advertised simple meals to motorists, showing Acme’s growing roadside economy. Stony Hollow Hut and Duck Inn represent Acme’s roadside years. Their signs were plain and direct: plate lunches, dinners, pies, hamburgs, breakfasts, sandwiches, salads, drinks and desserts. These were not luxury stops. They were useful places for travelers and locals. Duck Inn offered lunch and light meals under shade trees, fitting the mid-century travel culture of northern Michigan. That is what makes them valuable historical evidence. They show Acme adapting again. A town that once served mill workers and farmers began serving families in cars. The change was practical, not glamorous. The food was simple. The signs were readable from the road. The business model depended on traffic. From Golf Course to Resort Gateway in Acme Advertisement for Acme community businesses 1970 In the early 1970s, a nine-hole golf course was built near M-72 and U.S. 31. It was later purchased and expanded into Grand Traverse Resort. The township master plan notes the resort’s growth, including golf courses, residential units, a hotel and convention center. The resort’s later development added a new layer to Acme’s identity. The modern Grand Traverse Resort and Spa promotes its 15-story tower and is owned and operated by the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians. This modern chapter did not erase the old Acme. It built on the same geography that helped the village grow in the first place: bay access, routes to Traverse City, inland farms and a location suited to people moving through. Why the History of Acme Michigan Still Counts The History of Acme Michigan is a story of adjustment. First came mills and timber. Then came schools, stores and rail. Then farming and orchard country took a larger role. After that came cars, roadside parks, diners and tourism. Finally, Acme became part of the modern Traverse City travel economy. The most important lesson is that Acme was never just one thing. It was a creek town, a mill village, a farm service point, a road stop and a resort gateway. Its history explains how many small Michigan communities survived change by changing with it. Today, Acme Township had 4,456 residents in the 2020 Census count. That number is far larger than the roughly 200 residents recorded in the early 1900s. Yet the older story remains visible in the names, roads, schools, creek and bay. For readers who care about the History of Acme Michigan, the town offers a compact look at northern Michigan’s move from timber to tourism.

.nwmi-video-gridmax-width:1100px;margin:30px auto;font-family:Arial,sans-serif .nwmi-video-grid h2text-align:center;font-size:28px;margin-bottom:10px .nwmi-video-grid ptext-align:center;margin-bottom:22px .nwmi-cardsdisplay:grid;grid-template-columns:repeat(auto-fit,minmax(280px,1fr));gap:18px .nwmi-cardborder:2px solid #222;border-radius:12px;background:#fff;overflow:hidden;box-shadow:4px 4px 0 #222 .nwmi-card iframewidth:100%;aspect-ratio:16/9;border:0 .nwmi-card divpadding:14px .nwmi-card h3font-size:18px;margin:0 0 8px .nwmi-urlfont-size:13px;word-break:break-all;text-align:left .nwmi-card adisplay:inline-block;margin-top:10px;background:#1f4e79;color:#fff;padding:9px 12px;border-radius:6px;text-decoration:none Northwest Michigan History Videos Short Michigan Moments videos on towns, railroads, fires, lakes and early tourism in Northwest Lower Michigan. History of Acme Michigan: From Mill Creek to Resort Playground https://youtu.be/nZaWWTTuvTk Watch on YouTube Lake Ann, Michigan: The Lumber Town That Fire Forced to Change https://youtu.be/I_U08-HqhZY Watch on YouTube Grawn, Michigan — How a Railroad Stop Built a Northern Michigan Town https://youtu.be/KFj4MrRfNos Watch on YouTube History of Interlochen Michigan — Between Two Lakes, Between Two Eras https://youtu.be/pkw-p419s68 Watch on YouTube History of Empire Michigan: The Mill Town Fire That Changed Everything https://youtu.be/aGPIlCvpGRE Watch on YouTube History of Glen Arbor, Michigan: 5 Rare Views from the Early 1900s https://youtu.be/rnOhNlkrbV4 Watch on YouTube Michigan Acme Facts How did Acme, Michigan get its name?Acme was founded by L. S. Hoxie, a New York native who settled in the area in 1864 and laid out the village. The community's post office originally operated under the name "Whitewater," but in 1869 it was renamed Acme. The name comes from the Greek word acme, meaning "highest point" or "summit."What industries helped build early Acme?Like many Northern Michigan communities, Acme grew during the lumber era. Sawmills and docks were operating along Grand Traverse Bay by the 1850s, taking advantage of the region's vast pine forests and water transportation routes. The lumber trade attracted settlers, merchants, and supporting businesses that formed the foundation of the village.When did the railroad arrive in Acme?A major turning point came in 1892 when the Chicago and West Michigan Railway extended its line from Traverse City to Petoskey through Acme. The railroad improved transportation, connected local businesses to larger markets, and helped shift the area from a lumber-based economy toward farming, tourism, and commerce Works Cited for the History of Acme Michigan Acme Township. Acme Township Master Land Use Plan. Updated 18 May 2009. Eckert, Kathryn Bishop. Grand Traverse Resort Village (Grand Traverse Resort and Spa). SAH Archipedia, Society of Architectural Historians. Genealogy Trails. City and Township Histories of Grand Traverse County, Michigan. Grand Traverse Resort and Spa. The Tower at Grand Traverse Resort and Spa. Michigan Department of Transportation. 2020 Township Census. 21 Mar. 2022. MichiganRailroads.com. Station: Acme, MI. "Acme Ad 1970" Newspapers.com, Traverse City Record-Eagle, July 8, 1970, https://www.newspapers.com/article/traverse-city-record-eagle-acme-ad-1970/199820412/

Humble History of Lake Ann Michigan - 14 Vintage Shots From Frontier Village To Cottage Country

Lake Ann, Michigan, looks quiet today. It sits in Benzie County’s Almira Township, west of Traverse City, close to lakes, woods and roads that carry vacation traffic through northwest Lower Michigan. Lake Ann seen from higher ground, with the lake, village buildings and cleared land showing the town’s early scale. But the History of Lake Ann Michigan is not only a resort story. It is a lumber story. It is a railroad story. It is also a fire story. In the late 1800s, Lake Ann was a fast-growing village with mills, hotels, stores, workers and a depot on the Manistee & Northeastern Railroad. It had the makings of a larger inland town. Then three major fires changed its path. That is the counterintuitive part. The fires damaged Lake Ann, but they also helped shape the village people know today. A Village Named for Ann Wheelock Lake Ann Mich in the early 1900s The story begins with Addison P. Wheelock, one of the early settlers tied to Almira Township and Lake Ann. Ann Lake was named for Wheelock’s wife, Ann McBride Wheelock. The village later took its name from the lake. That simple naming detail gives Lake Ann a personal origin. Many Michigan towns were named for investors, railroad men, officials or distant places. Lake Ann’s name came from a family connection. In the 1860s, this part of Benzie County was still being settled. Timber drew people in. The work was hard, but the opportunity was clear. The forests could be cut. The logs could be milled. The lumber could be shipped. The History of Lake Ann Michigan starts with that practical fact: trees built the town before tourists ever arrived. The Railroad Arrives and the Town Grows The Manistee & Northeastern depot at Lake Ann, with men, horses, rail tracks and logs showing the village’s link to lumber and transportation. Lake Ann’s big change came in 1892, when the Manistee & Northeastern Railroad reached the area. The line ran through eastern Almira Township and helped turn Lake Ann into a busy village. Railroads made lumber towns work. They carried logs, finished lumber, mail, tools, food, passengers and news. The depot became one of the village’s most important buildings. By 1897, Lake Ann had grown quickly. Local histories report more than 800 residents and more than 100 buildings. The village had a general store, restaurant, hotel, drug store, meat market, saloon, livery barn and depot. That is hard to square with the small village of today. But it is central to the History of Lake Ann Michigan. This was not just a lakeside settlement. It was a working town with real momentum. Habbeler’s Mill and the Fire of 1897 That Changed Lake Ann Habbeler’s sawmill at Lake Ann, showing the industrial heart of the village during the lumber era. The defining break in the History of Lake Ann Michigan came on Saturday, July 3, 1897. A report in The Saginaw Courier-Herald said the fire began in William Habbler’s mill. Driven northeast by a strong wind, the flames swept through the business district until, as the paper put it, not a store was left standing in a village of 800 people. The damage was severe. The burned district covered nine blocks. Seventy-five families were left homeless. Mrs. Masters, an 80-year-old resident, died while trying to save valuables from her house. The estimated loss reached $125,000. The fire destroyed the sawmill, store, factory, cooperage sheds, warehouses and piles of lumber. It also damaged or destroyed the Manistee & Northeastern Railroad property, Burnett & Putnam’s general store, George E. Coleman’s drug store, Martin Stae’s saloon, the Park Hotel, the Huelmantel general store, Lake’s livery and many homes. Traverse City firemen arrived with a steam engine and helped save a grist mill, another sawmill, several dwellings, a hoop factory and a large amount of lumber. Relief trains came from Traverse City carrying bread, tea, coffee and other supplies for the people left without homes. The article noted a painful irony. Lake Ann had a good waterworks system.

But the town was built mostly of wood. With dry conditions and a hard wind, the village had little chance once the flames spread. That is the turning point in Lake Ann’s story. It had been a rising lumber town. After the fire, it had to decide whether to rebuild at the same scale or become something smaller. Two More Fires Reinforce the Lesson Almira Fire Department beside the community hall, a reminder that fire protection became central to local life after repeated disasters. Lake Ann suffered two later fires, in 1902 and 1918. These fires again damaged the village business district and deepened the divide between the boomtown past and the smaller village that followed. Fire was a common threat in Michigan lumber towns. Wooden buildings, stacked lumber, sawdust, sparks, dry weather and wind could turn one accident into a townwide disaster. Lake Ann’s civic buildings make more sense against that background. The Almira Fire Department view is not just a street scene. It is part of the village’s memory. A community that had burned three times had reason to take fire seriously. Stores, Hotels and the Everyday Village S.S. Burnett’s store in Lake Ann, with early village storefronts, utility poles and the lake visible nearby. The attached views of Lake Ann’s stores and hotels show the ordinary life that continued after the lumber boom faded. Burnett’s store stood in the village business area. A general store offered groceries, supplies, tools, hardware, conversation and credit. In a rural town, a store was more than a place to shop. It was a local information center. The hotel and store views show a town serving different groups at once. Lumber workers needed food, lodging and supplies. Railroad passengers needed rooms. Farmers came in for goods. Summer guests later arrived for the lake. Lake Ann post office scene, showing the shift from horse-era village life to automobile travel. The post office view adds another layer. The sign hangs near a dirt street. A gas pump stands close by. An early automobile sits near the road. The lake appears beyond the buildings. This image marks a transition. The railroad still counted, but cars were beginning to change northern Michigan travel. Visitors could reach towns in new ways. Roads would slowly take business away from rails. From Lumber to Lake Resorts Shields’ Recreation Resort on Lake View Lake, showing Lake Ann’s move toward summer lodging and recreation. The resort images show the next chapter in the History of Lake Ann Michigan. Once the lumber boom slowed, the lake became more important as a place for rest and recreation. Resorts, cottages and vacation homes began to define the village in a new way. Shields’ Recreation Resort and Dohm’s Resort show that Lake Ann was no longer only a working lumber village. It was becoming a place where families came for shade, water and quiet days. Cottage at Shields’ Recreation Resort, a simple lakeside retreat built for summer visitors. The cottage images are modest. That is part of their value. Lake Ann’s resort era was not about grand hotels and elite travel. It was about practical northern Michigan vacations. Families came for screened porches, lake breezes, fishing, walking and time away from city streets. Dohm’s Resort in Lake Ann, showing a large resort house set among mature trees. The resort shift did not erase the lumber past. It reused the same advantages: the lake, open land, roads, former railroad access and a village center that could serve visitors. Children, Bridges and the Softer Side of Town Life One of the most engaging views shows two boys near a narrow bridge over water. It is not a mill scene. It is not a depot scene. It is a quieter record of childhood. Boys seated near a narrow bridge at Lake Ann, showing everyday recreation near the water. This kind of view helps complete the town’s story. Lake Ann was not only fires, sawmills and commerce. It was also children near water, families in cottages, men outside stores and people gathering at the community hall.

The community hall image shows formal civic ambition. It has columns, steps and a clean public presence. Community Hall in Lake Ann, a civic building that served meetings, programs and local gatherings. A town with a hall had public life. It had meetings, celebrations, votes and debates. After disasters, those spaces helped people decide what came next. Lake Ann Camp and the Later Chapter Lake Ann Camp was founded in 1948 on the grounds of a former resort and golf course. It became a Christian youth camp and retreat center, adding another layer to the village’s long recreation story. The camp fits the town’s pattern. Land once shaped by timber and resort use found a new purpose. Young people came for organized camp life, group activities and time in northern Michigan. That later use helps explain why Lake Ann continued to be known by people far outside its small population. Lake Ann Today Lake Ann As It Was Lake Ann remains small. The 2020 census counted 273 residents in the village. It is located in northeastern Benzie County, within Almira Township, west of Traverse City. Its size can be misleading. The History of Lake Ann Michigan includes settlement, lumber, railroads, hotels, sawmills, fires, resorts, camps and civic rebuilding. The village did not become a large city. That may be its most interesting fact. It had the early ingredients: rail access, industry, water, population and business growth. Fire changed the outcome. What remains is a compact village with a layered past. Lake Ann began with timber. It grew with rail. It was scarred by fire. It found a new identity beside the water. Sources Cited for the History of Lake Ann Michigan Headisey Factory - Lake Ann Mich Almira Township. “History.” Almira Township Michigan. Ann Lake Association. “History.” Ann Lake Association. Benzie Conservation District. “Water Tour: Ann Lake.” Benzie Conservation District, 5 July 2017. Grand Traverse Journal. “One Hundred Years Ago: Lake Ann Devastated by Fire, 1918.” Grand Traverse Journal, Traverse Area District Library, 1 Apr. 2018. Lake Ann Camp. “Lake Ann Camp.” Lake Ann Camp. Village of Lake Ann. “About the Village of Lake Ann Michigan | Village History.” Village of Lake Ann. “The Lake Ann Fire.” The Saginaw Courier-Herald, 8 July 1897. Newspapers.com, https://www.newspapers.com/article/the-saginaw-courier-herald-lake-ann-fire/199699155/.

History of Hillman Michigan - 1908 Fire, Railroads and Lake Avalon Shaped a Northern Village

The History of Hillman Michigan begins with a name that still fits the place: Brush Creek. State Street in Hillman, with the Louis Davidson Department Store visible, shows a dirt main street filled with horses, wagons, overhead wires and commercial activity. Before Hillman became a village, this part of northeast Michigan was known for timber, water, rough roads and scattered settlement. The town site grew near Brush Creek and the Thunder Bay River. That location gave early settlers waterpower, travel routes and a reason to build mills and stores. Hillman became an incorporated village in 1891. It had already served as an early county center for Montmorency County, before Atlanta became county seat in 1893. That early public role gave Hillman a larger place in county history than its size might suggest. Watch - Hillman Michigan - Fire, Railroads and Lake Avalon Shaped This Small TownHistory of Hillman Michigan Starts at Brush CreekA Timber Town That Had to ChangeThe Railroad Came Late — and That Is the SurpriseFire and the Rebuilding of Main StreetHotels, Stores and the Public Life of HillmanAutomobiles Changed Hillman AgainLake Avalon and the Resort YearsThe Hoop Shop and the Wood-Product EconomyWhy Hillman Still Holds AttentionHistory of Hillman Michigan in One Northern VillageWorks Cited fof the History of Hillman Michigan Watch - Hillman Michigan - Fire, Railroads and Lake Avalon Shaped This Small Town History of Hillman Michigan Starts at Brush Creek Davidson’s Department Store stood as one of Hillman’s key commercial buildings, serving customers who came from town, farms and nearby camps. Brush Creek was not just a name. It was the reason people gathered there. The waterway met the Thunder Bay River, and the village grew around that crossing. An early historical account named Francis Holmes as one of the first permanent settlers in what became Hillman Township, arriving around 1874 or 1875. Before that, the area had lumber camps, but camps were not towns. A town needed families, trade, churches, roads and schools. By the early 1900s, Hillman had a bank, several general stores, churches and mills. It also had an electric light and power plant that supported small industry. A Timber Town That Had to Change Hillman’s elevator buildings show the farm economy that helped support the village after the first timber rush slowed. Like many Northern Lower Michigan communities, Hillman rose during the timber era. Montmorency County had pine and hardwoods, and lumber companies cut heavily in the late 1800s. Logs and lumber moved by rail, rivers and Great Lakes shipping routes. But timber towns faced a hard question. What came next? Hillman’s answer was practical. The village leaned on farming, mills, retail, local services and later tourism. That mix helped it avoid becoming only a memory after the big cutting years ended. The Railroad Came Late — and That Is the Surprise The Hillman depot marked the village’s short but important rail era, linking local trade to Alpena and outside markets. The most surprising part of Hillman’s story is the timing of the railroad. The Detroit & Mackinac Hillman branch was built in 1908 and 1909 from the Alpena area to Hillman. Many viewers may assume the line was built during the peak of the pine boom. It was not. Railroad history records say the old pine lumber era was largely over by 1908. The branch had several jobs. It helped serve shale hauling for the Huron Portland Cement Co. near Alpena. It also reached farming country, gravel sources and remaining timber interests. Hillman became the end of the branch. Rail service lasted only about 20 years, and the line was pulled back to Emerson in 1929. Fire and the Rebuilding of Main Street Main Street after a fire shows the damage that early Hillman residents had to face before rebuilding their business district. Fire was a constant threat in early northern Michigan towns. Wooden buildings, sawdust, heating stoves, dry woods and close storefronts made every business block vulnerable.

Hillman suffered several serious fires in its early years. Railroad records note that the most destructive regional fire damage came in 1908 in surrounding forests. The image labeled “Hillman Main St. After The Fire” shows how harsh such losses were. Buildings were gone. Smoke or haze hung near the ground. Stumps, wires and debris marked a town forced to start over. Hotels, Stores and the Public Life of Hillman The Winona Hotel, seen with horses and a carriage, shows Hillman as a stop for travelers before cars became common. A village hotel was more than lodging. It was a front porch for the town. The Winona Hotel stood in Hillman during the horse-and-wagon age. Travelers, merchants and local residents used hotels as gathering places. A person could get a meal, hear the news, meet a driver or wait for the next leg of a trip. Davidson’s Department Store played a similar role. In a small village, a large store was a public institution. It sold goods, extended trust, moved gossip and connected farm families to town life. Automobiles Changed Hillman Again Cronk’s service station combined gas, food, lodging and roadside promotion during Hillman’s automobile era. By the 1910s and 1920s, automobiles were changing Hillman’s streets and economy. Cars shortened the distance between town, farms, lakes and Alpena. They also created new business models. Cronk’s service station is a strong example. It offered Sinclair gas, tires, meals, rooms, cottages and cabins. That mix shows the rise of the roadside stop. Travelers needed fuel, food, repairs and a reason to pull in. The bear cub attraction shown at Cronk’s station is uncomfortable to modern eyes, but it is historically useful. It shows how roadside businesses used spectacle to stop traffic. In the early auto age, curiosity could sell gasoline. Lake Avalon and the Resort Years Brush Lake, later known as Lake Avalon, became part of Hillman’s resort and cottage life. The History of Hillman Michigan is not only about Main Street. It is also about the lakes. Avalon Lake, formerly Brush Lake, sits about five miles northwest of Hillman. State fishery records describe it as a natural glacial lake of 372 acres, with early fish surveys dating to the 1920s. The Civilian Conservation Corps made a lake-bottom map in 1935. Families and guests at Lake Avalon show how recreation became part of the village economy. Lake Avalon drew anglers, cottagers, families and resort visitors. The postcard views of Brush Lake, Norway Cove and resort cookouts show a softer side of Hillman’s economy. Work built the village, but water helped keep people returning. The Hoop Shop and the Wood-Product Economy Workers at E. Forsyth’s Hoop Shop show how wood-product labor continued after the first logging years. The E. Forsyth Hoop Shop view adds another layer to Hillman’s story. The workers stand among cut wood stock, tools and stacked material. The scene suggests a smaller wood-product trade after the first logging rush. This is important. Timber did not vanish from Hillman’s economy all at once. It changed. Instead of only big camps and river drives, local wood work could include hoops, staves, cut stock and other products. The labor remained hard, but the scale was different. Why Hillman Still Holds Attention The History of Hillman Michigan is important because it contains several northern Michigan stories in one place. Hillman was a county seat, then it was not. It had a railroad, then lost it. It rose with timber, then turned to farms, stores, lake trade and roadside travel. It endured fires and still kept a main street. That is the unique historical aspect of Hillman. It layered many eras into one small village. A person can read Hillman’s past through its streets: the store, the hotel, the depot, the elevator, the service station, the cottage road and the lake landing. Each one tells part of the same story. History of Hillman Michigan in One Northern Village The History of Hillman Michigan is not built around one famous resident or one dramatic event.

Its power is in the complete small-town record. Hillman began at Brush Creek. It grew with timber. It became a village. It served county life. It welcomed the train. It rebuilt after fire. It adapted to cars. It sent travelers toward Avalon Lake. That is why Hillman remains a strong subject for Michigan Moments. It shows how a small Northern Lower Michigan town kept changing while still feeling like itself. Works Cited fof the History of Hillman Michigan Brush Lake Resort Steamer “Brush Creek Mill.” Visit Alpena. Cwalinski, Tim A. “Avalon Lake, Montmorency County: Status of the Fishery Resource Report.” Michigan Department of Natural Resources and Environment, 2011; renumbered 2024. “Hillman, MI.” MichiganRailroads.com. “Hillman Branch — Detroit & Mackinac Railway.” MichiganRailroads.com. “History.” County of Montmorency. “Village of Hillman.” Genealogy Trails: Montmorency County, Michigan. “History of Montmorency County.” Genealogy Trails: Montmorency County, Michigan.

History of Camp Jeannette Waterford Michigan - The Boys’ Camp Behind a Detroit Charity Scandal

The History of Camp Jeannette Waterford Michigan begins with a bus from Detroit and boys who could not afford a summer vacation. The camp sat on Lester Lake in Waterford. The postcards spell the name “Camp Jeanette,” while some reference it as “Camp Jeannette.” It was a full cabin camping experience, not like the summer day camps of today. The camp served underprivileged boys brought by bus from Detroit. Many reportedly came from Corktown and other working-class neighborhoods where a two-week summer stay at a lake was out of reach for many families. For boys from Detroit families who could not afford a vacation, it offered two weeks on Lester Lake in Waterford. A bus brought them from the city. At the camp, there were cabins, meals, swimming, a church, a small hospital, a library and even a shed where canoes could be built. But behind the camp was a much larger Detroit operation. The Good Samaritans of Michigan did not simply ask for cash. It asked people to give cast-off goods: clothing, furniture, mattresses, rugs, dishes, magazines and newspapers. Those goods were collected, sorted and sold. What began in 1932 with one truck reportedly grew into a large salvage business with 27 trucks, 119 employees, a warehouse, offices at 1424 Sherman and seven retail outlets. Watch: Camp Jeanette in Waterford, Michigan: How Corktown Boys Found Two Weeks at the Lake A Detroit Charity With One Truck Boys gather around a worktable inside Camp Jeanette, showing the camp’s mix of supervision, craft work and group activity. The Good Samaritans of Michigan began in 1932, according to a 1948 Detroit Free Press account. Charles S. Tripp, the first president, reportedly started the operation with one truck and collected cast-off articles himself. The group’s business model was direct. It asked residents for used clothing, furniture, mattresses, rag rugs, dishes, magazines and newspapers. Those goods were picked up, sorted and sold. The money was supposed to support charity work, including aid to the needy and a mission at 1032 Michigan Ave. in Detroit. This was not a small neighborhood collection by the late 1940s. Investigators quoted in the Free Press said the Good Samaritans had 27 trucks, 119 employees, seven retail outlets, a warehouse and offices at 1424 Sherman. They also said the group had grossed more than $1 million over six and a half years. Why Waterford's Camp Jeannette Offered More Than Swimming The Camp Jeanette bus arrives near the camp sign, linking Detroit charity work with Waterford’s lake country. The family account adds detail that the postcards alone do not show. The Lester Lake camp had a church, a small hospital, a canoe-building shed, a library and several other buildings. The camp is described has having about 37 acres on Andersonville Road in Waterford. It included 27 log cabins, a kitchen and dining building, a utility building, a church and recreation building, a service garage, a hospital building, an administration or overseer’s building, bathing docks and boat docks. This was not a token camp. It was a large seasonal facility with enough buildings and equipment to serve many boys at once. A postcard appeal connected to the camp said the Good Samaritans were giving about 1,000 boys a free two-week vacation each summer. For Detroit families living on tight budgets, that would have been a serious offer. The Daily Order of Camp Life Boys inside a bunk cabin show the simple sleeping quarters that made a free two-week camp stay possible. The images show a camp built around routine. Boys sat at long tables in a dining hall. They slept in bunk rooms. They gathered outside log cabins. Counselors supervised meals, swimming and cabin life. A free camp still had rules. Boys had to line up, eat together, clean up and follow directions. A “Cleanest Cabin” award seen in one camp view suggests that order and personal responsibility were part of the program. That was common in midcentury youth camps. Recreation came with discipline.

Fun came with schedule. Waterford gave the boys the lake, but the camp gave them structure. For a boy from Detroit, the stay may have been unforgettable. The city was only miles away, but the setting was different. There were cabins, trees, lake water and meals served in a room full of boys who had arrived for the same reason. They were getting a vacation their families likely could not buy.. Part of a Wider Fresh-Air Tradition Boys swim at Camp Jeanette, showing why Waterford’s lakes made the site valuable for a summer charity camp. Camp Jeanette fits into a larger American movement often called the fresh-air camp tradition. Beginning in the late 1800s, reformers and charities sent city children to rural homes and camps for summer stays. Cornell University Press notes that such programs began in 1877 and eventually brought hundreds of thousands of urban children to rural homes and camps. These programs were built on a belief that city children needed rest, clean air, play and time away from crowded neighborhoods. Some of those ideas came with class bias, and not every adult view of city children was fair. But the basic need was real. Many families had little money for summer recreation. Camp Jeanette brought that national idea into Southeast Michigan. Dining Hall, Bunks and Camp Order A crowded dining hall shows the camp’s scale and the daily routine of meals served to large groups of boys. The attached views show a camp built for routine. Boys sit at long tables in a large dining hall. They sleep in bunks inside wooden cabins. They gather outdoors near log buildings. They appear under the direction of young male counselors. This was not a luxury camp. It was organized, plain and busy. That plainness is important. Camp Jeanette was designed to serve many boys. Long tables fed them efficiently. Bunk rooms housed them simply. Group activities kept order. Cabin awards and inspections likely taught boys to care for their shared space. The camp was meant to be fun, but it was not unstructured. The Cleanest Cabin Award A cabin scene tied to a cleanest-cabin award shows how Camp Jeanette mixed recreation with daily discipline. One image shows boys gathered outside a log cabin while a counselor receives a “Cleanest Cabin” award. That small moment says a lot about camp culture. Clean cabins were not only about hygiene. They were about responsibility. In camp life, boys learned that shared spaces required shared effort. A swept floor or a made bed became part of the program. Adults in the mid-20th century often viewed camps as places to shape character. Camp Jeanette likely followed that pattern. It gave boys a break, but it also taught habits. A Camp Between City and Suburb Boys assembled outside a rustic building suggest the group structure and camp routines used at Camp Jeanette. The History of Camp Jeanette in Waterford Michigan also sits at a key moment in Southeast Michigan. After World War II, Detroit remained the industrial center of the region, while Oakland County was growing. Roads improved. Families moved outward. Lake communities became easier to reach. Camp Jeanette used that geography before suburban growth fully remade Waterford. The camp stood between two Michigans: Detroit’s dense neighborhoods and Oakland County’s lake-based summer life. That makes the camp historically useful. It shows how regional connections worked before today’s travel patterns, youth programs and public recreation systems became common. What Happened to Camp Jeannette? The later history of Camp Jeannette adds a more complicated ending to an otherwise generous story. By the late 1940s, the Good Samaritans of Michigan had grown far beyond a small charity. Newspaper accounts said the organization operated trucks, retail outlets and a warehouse that handled donated clothing, furniture, mattresses, dishes, magazines and other household goods. Those items were collected and sold to support the group’s charitable work, including the Waterford camp.

In October 1948, John E. Tripp, president and treasurer of the Good Samaritans of Michigan, was indicted after a charity rackets grand jury investigation. Prosecutors accused him of misusing organization funds. The case drew sharp newspaper coverage, and the headlines made the situation look grim. But the final court outcome is important. The criminal case against Tripp was later dismissed in November 1950. His defense argued that he had authority from the board to use funds as he did, including furnishing his home as an office. The defense also challenged the one-man grand jury process used in the indictment. A fair reading of what happened is that the Good Samaritans operation appears to have suffered from weak oversight, family control, tax problems and a blurry line between charity work and business activity. The organization’s financial trouble did not end with the dismissed criminal case. In September 1953, the Good Samaritans of Michigan filed a formal admission that it owed the federal government back taxes and penalties. By 1954, the Waterford camp property was listed for auction through U.S. District Court bankruptcy proceedings. The 1954 Auction: A Camp Broken Into Lots The 1954 auction notice listed the complete Waterford camp property, including cabins, dining facilities, church and recreation building, hospital building, docks and boats. The 1954 auction notice reads like the inventory of a vanished summer. The sale included land on Andersonville Road in Waterford, about 37 acres of lakefront wooded land, 27 log cabins, a kitchen and dining building, a church and recreation building, a hospital building, a service garage, docks, boats, beds, kitchen equipment, refrigerators, dishes, tables, benches and other camp equipment. The ad also suggested possible new uses: resort subdivision, convalescent home, amusement park, old folks home, motel resort, sanitarium or ski lodge. That sale appears to mark the end of Camp Jeannette as a Good Samaritans boys’ camp. For the boys, the camp may have been remembered through meals, swimming and bunks. For the courts, it became an asset in bankruptcy. That contrast is what gives the story its force. The Boys Should Not Be Lost in the Scandal It is a sad ending, but not a simple one. The camp seems to have provided real summer vacations for boys who needed them. The family behind it may have been overwhelmed by the size and complexity of the operation they built. What remains is a story of good intentions, weak controls and a Waterford camp that gave Detroit boys two weeks at the lake before the charity behind it collapsed. The camp served children from families that could not afford a summer break. The Good Samaritans bus brought them from Detroit to Waterford. They slept in cabins, ate in a packed dining hall and swam in Lester Lake. They were given time away from crowded streets and tight family budgets. Camp Jeannette deserves to be remembered for both parts of its history: the boys who got a summer at Lester Lake, and the hard lesson that even well-meant charity work needs clear records, strong oversight and public trust. Works Cited For The History of Camp Jeannette Waterford Michigan “Corktown Historic District.” Detroit Historical Society. “Corktown Historic District.” National Park Service, 30 Aug. 2020. “Good Samaritans of Michigan ‘Camp Jeanette’ Waterford, Michigan.” David V. Tinder Collection, University of Michigan Library. Guarneri, Julia. “Changing Strategies for Child Welfare, Enduring Beliefs About Childhood: The Fresh Air Fund, 1877–1926.” Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, 2012. “The 20th Century: From Zone Codes to ZIP Codes.” Smithsonian National Postal Museum. “Waterford Township Master Plan.” Charter Township of Waterford. “Waterford Township Historical Timeline.” Charter Township of Waterford. “Good Samaritan Graft Oct. 1948 Detroit Free Press.” Newspapers.com, Detroit Free Press, 24 Oct. 1948. “Good Samaritans of Michigan File Tax Admission Sept 1953 The Saginaw News.

” Newspapers.com, The Saginaw News, 19 Sept. 1953. “Tripp Trial Dropped Nov. 1950.” Newspapers.com, Detroit Free Press, 17 Nov. 1950. “Writ of Samaritans Property Apr. 1949 Detroit Free Press.” Newspapers.com, Detroit Free Press, 28 Apr. 1949. Tripp-Quartel, Cynthia. Facebook comment on Camp Jeanette/Jeannette, Waterford, Michigan. User-supplied text.

Henry Ford’s Secret Train That the Government Didn’t Want You to Ride!

Watch this Michigan Moments short about Henry Ford’s Gas-Electric Train. The 30-second video looks at Gas-Electric Car No. 35 of the Detroit, Toledo & Ironton Railroad during a 1926 run through Tecumseh, Michigan. About This Video In the autumn of 1926, Tecumseh, Michigan, became the setting for one of Henry Ford’s rail experiments. The video features Gas-Electric Car No. 35 of the Detroit, Toledo & Ironton Railroad, also known as the D.T.&I. The car appeared during its first regular run on Monday, Oct. 25, 1926. The gas-electric railcar marked a shift away from steam power on some passenger routes. Instead of relying on a traditional steam locomotive, the self-propelled car offered a different model for local rail service. For smaller towns, that mattered. Railroads connected residents, workers and businesses long before highway travel became dominant. This short Michigan Moments video uses a historic image to highlight a brief but notable moment in Michigan transportation history. It connects Henry Ford’s industrial reach with Tecumseh and the D.T.&I., a railroad that played a role in Ford’s broader transportation plans. Video Transcript A Michigan Moment snapshot, taken in Tecumseh, Michigan, in 1926. This records the first regular run of Henry Ford’s gas-electric railcar on the Detroit, Toledo & Ironton Railroad. The innovative train replaced a steam locomotive, signaling Ford’s interest in efficiency and modernization beyond automobiles. Ford purchased the rail line in 1920, linking Detroit’s factories with rural depots. Local spectators gathered to witness this milestone in rail rolling stock. Key Moments 0:00 — A Michigan Moment snapshot 0:02 — Tecumseh, Michigan, in 1926 0:05 — First regular run of Ford’s gas-electric railcar 0:09 — Detroit, Toledo & Ironton Railroad 0:12 — Steam locomotive replaced 0:18 — Ford’s broader transportation plans 0:25 — Local spectators gather Related Reading More Michigan Moments episodes and snapshots

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