Ten Things Our Kids Will Never Learn

1. Driving a standard car.
2. Pressing fall leaves between two sheets of waxed paper.
3. Reading a map.
4. How to send things through mail.
5. Writing cursive. Future Archeologists will wonder how we communicated in emotions even though we managed space flight.
6. How to folk dance. This is what was learned in elementary school which taught etiquette and it was fun.
7. Commercial jingles. Remember the lyrics to the Armour Hot Dog Song.
8. How to plant vegetables by the phase of he moon and learn the rhythms of nature.
9. How to balance a checkbook.
10. How to make change in their heads. Now machine tell you what to give back.

Source: AARP Politics and Society - Events in History.  Written by: Tracey Thompson for the October 2016 issue.

Are There Pasties in Heaven?

The spring fling was just around the corner and Mabel was struggling to perfect her pasty recipe for the pasty cook off. She was in the kitchen experimenting with pasty recipes. The house smelled of onions, suet, pork sausage and rutabagas. Flour was strewn all over the counter and on the floor. Mabel’s apron was sprinkled with the white powder. Grease was also streaked on the worn garment. Mabel had a smile on her face picturing herself taking first place in the pasty cook off. She has won every pasty cooking contest for the past ten years.

            Other women and men tried to beat her and take the first place prize which was two cases of Old Milwaukee. Mabel prided herself on holding onto the secrets to the best pasties in the county. Even her husband wasn’t let in on her secrets. She was afraid he would spill the beans when he was drinking with his buddies. Most everybody in the U.P. believed pasties are da best food in the world to eat and would have loved to have her recipe.

            Gertie, Thelma Lou’s daughter, was sitting on her Papa’s lap. She thought her Papa knew everything and she had some important questions to ask him. Papa asked Gertie to tell him about what she’s been wondering.          

            “Papa, where did pasties come from. Did they come from heaven? They are so yummy.” 

            “Let me tell you about da legend of da first pasty in da U.P., Gertie,” said Papa. He looked down at Gertie and smiled. Papa loved to tell stories. He was known around these parts as da best story teller in da county.

            “Da pasty has a long history of being a cultural food in da U.P. People actually thinks they came from da U.P. We are so well-known for da delicious explosion of flavor. When da first pasty was made in da U.P. is a mystery. This is what I know about its origins. Mining was booming in da 1800s in da U.P. of Michigan and even sooner than dat. There’s been rumors dat copper was discovered in da lower parts of this country like da area where Texas is today, a long time ago dat copper was mined in da U.P. Dat’s another story for another time. Back ta pasties. I was told by my Pa dat pasties were introduced by da Cornish from England back in da early 1800s. I was told dat mining was drying up in England for da Cornish and so some of them decided ta come to da U.P. They brought us a lot of know-ledge about mining and they also introduced us to da pasty. Pasties, in those days, served as da main lunch for da miners. It was small, easy to carry and had all they needed in one meal. Pasties normally had potatoes and onions in them. Da other stuff in pasties were added by different groups.”

            “Who are da Cornish, Papa?” asked Gertie.

            “Da Cornish were known ta come from Cornwall, England.”

            Gertie appeared to be satisfied with her Papa’s answer so he decided to continue with his story. “Pasties were easy to heat up for da miners. They would place their pasty on a shovel and hold it over a fire or they would hold their pasties over a head-lamp candle. Ya can see how this would be handy, Gertie.”

            Gertie nodded her head.

            “There’s a proper way ta eat a pasty dat was introduced by da Cornish.”

            “What’s dat, Papa?”

            “Ya need to hold da pasty in your hand and start at da opposite end. Dat’s so if ya don’t eat da entire pasty, you can pick it up later and eat it.”

            “Dat makes sense,” said Gertie. Gertie looked up at her Papa and he tapped her chin.

            “There are some legends tied with our beloved pasties. One involved da Devil who could not cross da Tamar River near Cornwall. Dat was on account dat it was a well-known habit of Cornish women of putting every-thing into a pasty. Da devil wasn’t brave enough to face such a fate of going up against da all mighty pasty.”

            “Papa, I am afraid of da devil. Do ya think he is going to come after me.”

            “No, my sweet. Yer grandma says lots of prayers ta prevent him from coming after any of us.”

            Gertie climbed off of Papa’s lap and ran up to Grandma and hugged her legs. Mabel looked down at Gertie confused and patted her on the head. She ran back and jumped on her Papa’s lap again.

            “Do ya want to hear more about pasties?”

            “Yes, Papa.”

            “It was also passed down dat a pasty caused da great mine fire in da early 1800s. One of da miners forgot about his pasty dat was being heated on his shovel. There’s so much lard in those pasties dat it caught on fire. Fortu-nately, none of da miners met their fate dat day.”

            “What else is in a pasty, Papa?”

            “As far as I understand, there’s potatoes, rutabagas, meat, I think yer grandma uses pork sausage and suet, onions and some wonderful seasonings dat yer grandma won’t tell me about.”

            “Why won’t she tell you, Papa?”

            “I think she’s afraid I will tell others about her secret ingredients.”

            “Why doesn’t she want others to know?” asked Gertie.

            “Go ask yer grandma about dat and let me know.”

            Gertie climbed off Papa’s lap and went back into the kitchen to ask her grandma why she didn’t want anyone to know about her pasty recipe.

            “Grandma, why don’t you want anybody to know about what is in yer pasties?” Grandma looked sheepishly at Gertie, wiped her hands on her apron and walked into da living room to confront Papa.

            “What’s up with Gertie’s question?” asked Mabel.

            “I sent Gertie in to ask ya about why ya didn’t want anyone to know yer ingredients because I didn’t know how to answer da question,” replied Papa.

            “I don’t like dat ya are filling her head which such nonsense,” said Mabel. Her hands were placed on her hips.

            “Well, why don’t ya want to share yer recipe?” Papa confronted her.

            Mabel was feeling rather sheepish and decided to fess up. “I want to be da winner at da pasty cook off.”

            “But Grandma, you should share yer recipe so everybody can make pasties as good as yer’s.”

            Grandma tapped her finger on her chin and Papa swears he could see a light bulb light up above her head.

            “Gertie, you are so right. This year after I win da contest, I will share my recipe with everyone at da spring fling. You are such a smart little gurl, our little Gertie.” Mabel patted Gertie on da head again.

            Mabel has been fretting over da pasty bake off fer years and she decided it was high time she relaxed and enjoyed da Spring Fling.  She is more than willing to turn over da torch and let others take da lead with her recipe or their own recipes. Mabel let out a sigh of relief and sat down heavily on da sofa.

            “Tell us another story, Papa,” said Mabel.


Brunner, S. (2016). Lake Superior in the Moonlight. Michigan: Freedom Eagles Press.

Where Have All the Towers Gone? (A Conservation with a Former EUP Towerman)

Where have all the towers gone? Long time passing! Today’s travelers have a better chance of locating lighthouses than fire towers. Nearly all the former Michigan DNR forest towers have been dismantled; however, many fine examples still stand within the boundaries of the national forest system.

            If you are fortunate enough to spot one of these former watch towers, be sure to capture its image on film, for the few remaining represent the last of a former era… one in which fire towers served as a connecting link toward the fighting of wildfires.

            Forest fire prevention became a major concern by the turn of the century. Michigan’s first steel fire tower was erected at Houghton Lake in 1913. A dedicated towerman was commissioned to sit atop the tower to scan the landscape for wisps of smoke. If fire was spotted, crews were notified. It was a solitary position.

            Remember those steel sentinels of the forest? Not too many years past, fire towers were common landmarks throughout northern Michigan; today, few remain. One can still view a classic tower at the western limits of the Upper Peninsula, where the U.S. forest Service’s Tee Pee Tower stands at Kenton, Near Strongs, in the eastern Upper Peninsula, folks will notice the Raco and McNearney Lake Towers. Yet, another tower remains standing at Goetzville.

            At first, fire lookouts were little more than spiked trees with platforms mounted on top. One such tall pine stood near Raco until highway M-28 was widened in 1928. The former lookout tree was later replaced with a steel tower.

            The use of such vantage points led to the erection of small windmill-type towers with open platforms located along high points of fire patrol routes. The first actual wooden look-out tower int eh state sstood on a hill near Lewiston in 1912. The first steel tower was assembled near Grayling in 1915. Each year more towers were added until by 1924 over 100 towers were in use in the Upper and Lower Peninsulas.

            By 1925 towers with enclosed cabins appeared replacing old open platform types; stairways were added instead of ladders, making towers user-friendlier. The tower system was virtually complete by 1928 and contained 107 cabin-type primary towers, 16 open platform lookouts positioned in state forests or game refuges. By 1949, Michigan had 140 primary towers and five secondary towers in operation.

            The standard modern tower was a specially designed 100-150 foot steel tower with a glass enclosed eight-foot-square platform, from which the average effective vision range was 10 miles on a clear day.

            Each lookout station was equipped with detailed surface maps; an alidade for accurate determination of direction from the tower to a discovered fire, and a telephone or radio, or both, by which fires could be reported to the nearest fire headquarters or conservation officer. A rule of thumb was to equate fire breakouts in relation to local landmarks. Distant fires were cross shots from adjoining towers. When visibility was poor, secondary towers were manned and during emergencies, aerial patrols we provided by either a state plane or by hired aircraft.

            During the early years, qualification of a towerman was good eyesight and knowledge of the immediate area. Lacking even a map, these first lookouts had to judge a fire by positioning with local landmarks and section corners. As tower numbers increased, fires were located by triangulation and accurate base maps were standard regulation.

            Modern-day towermen also had to have good eyesight, be familiar with their territory, operate a radio, make meteorological observations. Distinguish between unauthorized and legitimate burns, judge a fire’s behavior, and serve as a good will ambassador to the general public. Communication became the tool of the modern towerman.

            In 1933, the Department installed a number of two-way, medium-low frequency radio sets with a lab set up at Roscommon. Between 1938-40, over 120 battery operated radio sets were in place in fire towers, providing direct contact between towers and district headquarters.

            Experiments with plan to ground radio communications began at Lansing in 1934 weith the Michigan State Board of Aeronautics furnishing plane and pilot.

            Between 1933 and 1942, the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) constructed 95 lookout fire towers, eight lookout cabins, and 1,371 miles of fire breaks for fire control purposes. Their services also provided 1,958 miles of telephone line installation that brought phone usage into remotely located fire towers.

            Historically, before the advent of fire towers and a communications system, it was easy to understand why fire wardens were able to accomplish so little in the way of forest fire suppression. Locating fires strictly by patrol proved akin to looking for a needle in a haystack. Certainly, Michigan’s advanced fire tower system achieved the work for which it was intended.

            Prior to retirement, Jim Pudelko was assigned to the DeTour DNR field office, but when he hired on in 1965,he served as a Class-B Towerman. Pudelko relates his experience as a fire tower spotter: From the time I was a young boy living a quarter-mile from the Goetzville Tower, I longed to be a towerman; just sitting up in the 110-foot tall tower was strongly appealing.

            I worked about a year as a towerman before being called into military service and upon my return, fire towers were being phased out, replaced by aerial patrols. I was transferred to the  Michigan DNR Forestry Division, under title of ‘Fire Officer.’

            As a towerman, we wore no specific uniform. We worked the tower only on high fire danger days and even then, we did not man the tow until mid-day when morning dew had left the forest floor. However, if a fire was in progress, we stayed at our post from dawn ‘til dusk.

            Serving as one of the later day spotter, equipment consisted of a pair of binoculars, an alidade, radio and telephone. We also kept in and an adjoining shed, 50 shovels and 50 axes along with a number of five-gallon pump cans. All were marked with a CCC label. Each fall, towermen were responsible for removing large cumbersome radio sets from towers to prevent theft. This involved strapping a 20-25 pound radio unit to one’s back and carrying it down the tower ladder. Some towers had stairs; Goetzville Tower had a ladder. It was a difficult job.

            We were issued a ‘tower key,’ which was  master key of sorts that fit any Michigan fire tower. If we were needed in any district, the key was readily available. I managed to keep one as a souvenir. Actually, our District alone held five towers including two located at Drummond Island. We performed maintenance chores such as painting stairways and making repairs to the cabin, and the keys provided easy entry.

            I came across an old newspaper clipping from ‘The Republican-News and St. Ignace Enterprise’ dated may 21, 1926: “A 100-foot steel fire tower of latest design, towerman’s cabin, five miles of telephone line, a mile of truck trail and a shelter cabin will be constructed on Drummond Island this summer by enrollees of CCC Camp Moran for the Field Administration Division of the Department of Conservation, if plans for an establishment of a side-camp materialize.”

            We had an amusing incident regarding one of the purchased towers that was to used as an observation tower by a couple from the western Upper Peninsula. They bought a 110-foot tower and somehow a mistake was made and DNR personnel tore down the purchased tower. The couple demanded a replacement. When the tower was purchased, it was up to the buyer to have it dismantled and rebuilt; but in this instance the Department had to locate a tower exactly like the one they paid for. A crew was sent out from Manistique and Naubinway comprised of Joe Anthony, Pat Clark, John Moon and myself to disassemble the Gould City Tower.

            It proved to a harrowing experience. The roof was raised first. Everything had to be lowered by rope and pulley system. The four tower walls were dismantled which left us standing on the cabin floor 100 feet up in the air with absolutely nothing to hold on to whatsoever! Talk about being scared!

            Flooring was removed next, and then every step of stairway had to be taken apart and sent downward. Not even a wrench was dropped in error. But at one point, a cable slipped and I made a grab for it, but at the last second I pulled back. Had I not, I would have been pulled right down to the ground. As it was, the attached rod fell with such speed it buried itself in the ground just missing the man standing below handling the ropes. Crosspieces were the last to come down, and then the supports… it proved to be an immense undertaking.

            When spotter planes replaced towers, they became obsolete. An aerial survey took in so much more territory and a pilot could easily radio a ground crew advising them the easiest route into the blaze. If the fire was an arson fire, there usually was a two-track trail leading right up to its source.

            Today, few towers remain across the state. The MDNR put htem up for public sale during the 1980s. The adjacent property owner purchased Goetzville Tower. If I am speaking correctly, I believe towers sold around $250 a piece. Many were purchased merely for scrap metal sales, not preservation.

            Jim Pudelko added; Today when you have an opportunity to view one of these old fire towers, stop and remember how important they once were to the State of Michigan. They were our first line of defense against constant threat of forest fires. I am proud that I had the opportunity to be a part of history in the making.

           

 Source: The Sault News, July 2016. Our Story: A Look Back at the Eastern Upper Peninsula. Where Have All the Towers Gone? Article written by: Betty Sodders.