Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2012,
Fall 2012

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Original Images:

Author: Peg Porter

The headline article in the June 10 Business Section of AnnArbor.com read “SOLD! Investor buys historical Washington Square building in downtown Ann Arbor.” Longtime readers of Gleanings might remember an article I wrote in the Summer 2009 issue titled, “R.S. Gerganoff: An Architect for the 20th century.” That article has since been reprinted in its entirety on the State of Michigan Website, Michigan Modern.

James Costello will oversee the restoration for the new owner Cameron Holdings from Okemos. According to Mr. Costello, “it’s a special building, and post restoration, it’s going to be exceptional. The building was designed by Ypsilanti architect Ralph Stevens (sic) (R.S. Gerganoff.) It was first known as the Ypsi–Ann Building…Gerganoff also was the architect for what is now the Beer Depot in Ann Arbor, in addition to several landmark buildings in Ypsilanti.” He mentions Beyer Hospital, buildings on the EMU campus and several Ypsilanti schools.

It is rewarding to see that well-documented historical articles are used by developers in the restoration of properties. And to this author, it is especially pleasing, to have early 20th century buildings appreciated for their historical value. Now if we could just find a way to finance the restoration of the Gerganoff home on Huron River Drive we would have a real treasure of mid-20th century residential architecture that could draw architectural historians and students from southeastern Michigan and beyond.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2012,
Fall 2012

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Original Images:

Author: James Mann

Until recently there stood a house by the intersection of Michigan Avenue and U. S. 23, notable for many perhaps, because it stood alone surrounded by overgrown wild grass. The house had the appearance of neglect and age. The house was old as it was built in 1840. This was the site of Robert’s Corner.

This was the farm of the Roberts family, on the old Chicago Road, now Michigan Avenue. The house was originally a stage coach stop, where the horses were changed, and travelers could relax for a bit. What became the dining room was at first the tavern, where whiskey was two or three cents a shot.

In the traven was a large fireplace, where travelers would circle around and tell stories, or gaze into the flames of the fire as steaks were broiled. This fireplace was also a means for deciding the order in which guests were treated to rounds of drinks. “When time lagged and excitement was wanted, someone suggested that they all lie down in front of the fireplace for the drinks. A circle was drawn from one corner of the hearth to the other out and away from the fire about an arm’s length. All stretched out on the floor with their heads to the mark and extended an arm toward the fire. He who could leave his hand against the heat the longest time would be the winner. The one with the shortest arm usually won. The first to give up was the first to treat, and so on in turn. The last one only would be the real winner,” noted The Ypsilanti Record of Thursday, February 8, 1917.

In May of 1911 a new bride arrived at the farm named Clara Roberts. Charles married the former school teacher in the Episcopal Church. The couple made the journey to the farm in a carriage from the livery of Oliver Westfall. The couple had to wait as the wheels were changed to runners, as there was eight feet of snow on the ground. As they rode to the farm, the couple probably snuggled close for warmth, as it was eight degrees below zero. At the time what is now Michigan Avenue was a single dirt track road.

Years later Clara would see the first improvements in the road, as the farm was the headquarters for the crew. The workers were, for the most part, prison labor. The heavy work was done with teams of horses and the men slept in a huge tent in the field behind the barn.

“Water from the Roberts farm was used exclusively for a distance of ten miles along the roadway and a doctor, imprisoned in a notorious abortion case, was responsible for its purity. Although the men were fed state food and had their own cooks many had money of their own and supplemented the meals with sandwiches and pie made by Mrs. Roberts. The doctor took the orders from the men, made the deliveries and saw that Mrs. Roberts was paid. She remembers that their favorite pie was lemon,” reported The Ypsilanti Press of May 22, 1961. Clara Roberts was still on the farm when modern machines were used to pave and widen the road, by changing the landscape to its present shape.

Roberts Corner had another landmark as well, that of a concession stand. For at least 32 years the Netterfield family parked their concession stand at the intersection of West Michigan and Carpenter Road. Rows of yellow lights flashed on and off to beckon families to stop for a few minutes to purchase popcorn, candy apples and more.

Every year the Netterfield family traveled from Tampa, Florida to work the fair and carnival season. Paul Netterfield had found the spot at the intersection and stayed for a week, and then two weeks, then three. Then, for years after, the family would arrive in April and open the trailer for business until the Fourth of July, when the fair season began. There is only one newspaper clipping from The Ypsilanti Press in the Roberts file in the Archives to tell the story. Whoever clipped the story from the paper forgot to write the date of publication of the story. Then again, there are still those who remember.

(James Mann is a local author and historian, a regular contributor to the Gleanings, and a volunteer in the YHS Archives.)

Photo Caption:

Photo 1: Roberts Corner was located at the intersection of Michigan Avenue and U. S. 23.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2012,
Fall 2012

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Original Images:

Author: Laura Bien

This story previously appeared in the Ypsilanti Courier.

Ypsilanti’s first movie theater wasn’t the Martha Washington at Washington and Pearl (now the Déjà Vu) or the Wuerth on Michigan Avenue (now a salon adjacent to the Wolverine Grill). In 1907, a tiny nickelodeon opened in a former grocer’s shop on the west side of North Huron, just north of the present-day Dalat.

In its earliest days, The Vaudette didn’t show movies, but still images from a turn-of-the-century slide projector called a stereopticon. Resembling a lantern-camera hybrid, the stereopticon had a slot in which a glass plate with an image could be inserted. A variety of illuminants were used including kerosene, acetylene gas, and an apparatus that burned a piece of the white alkaline material lime in an oxyhydrogen gas flame, giving rise to the technical and later metaphorical term “lime-light.”

Visitors to the Vaudette who had paid their nickel could choose one of the forty or so plain wooden chairs arranged on the old grocery store’s wooden floor, facing the small makeshift screen in back. To the side of the screen sat an upright piano at which a woman played popular pieces of the day to accompany the images being changed by her son Russell at the stereopticon. Pianist Elizabeth was accompanied by her husband, singer Bert Reader, a former local barber who’d founded the Vaudette.

Bert’s English-born parents Thomas and Eliza had had their six children in three different countries. Their first, Comfort, was born in England. The family immigrated to Canada around 1860, where Lizzie, Josie, William, and Edward were born. Around 1875 the family moved to Michigan, settling in Ypsilanti. Bert, Thomas and Eliza’s last child, was born just a few days before July 4, 1876 - his parents gave him the middle name of Centennial.

In July of 1896, Bert married Elizabeth Myers, the Michigan-born daughter of German immigrant parents, in Essex, Ontario. The couple settled in Ypsilanti on River Street, moving in a few years to a house at 728 Lowell on the north side of town near the present-day EMU campus. Bert worked as a barber at his brother William’s shop, the Opera House Shaving Parlors, at 222 Michigan Avenue. Elizabeth kept house and tended their toddler Russell.

When the grocer’s shop at 19 North Huron closed, Bert purchased it and became a theater manager. If Bert had the genial gregarious nature of a good barber, it carried over well into his new career of entertaining the public, as he was well-known and well-liked in town.

Bert rode his bicycle to work. An accident resulted in a front-page story in the May 17, 1909 Ypsilanti Daily Press. One sub-headline read, “Residents Living in Vicinity of Forest Avenue and Hamilton Street Highly Edified by Spectacular Exhibition. The proprietor of the local moving [picture] theater, it is said, was gaily bowling along Forest Avenue mounted on his steel steed, [and whistling ‘In the Good Old Summertime,’]” said the article. In cutting across a vacant lot, Bert ran into a wire that someone had erected to keep passersby off the grass. “The wheel stopped-the whistle stopped-everything stopped but Mr. Reader,” said the paper. “He kept right on going and those who saw the evolutions he made declare that he is perfectly competent to draw $1,000 a week at any summer resort. Mr. Reader is not saying much, but he walks with a perceptible limp.”

The Vaudette customarily did not advertise in the Daily Press, but it made one exception around Thanksgiving of 1910, when it ran an ad for a screening of the blockbuster film “The Life of Moses.” Unlike the usual one-reel silent movies shown at nickelodeons, this film’s five reels took 90 minutes to play. Bert charged 25 and 35 cents [$5.80 to $8 today], with a Thanksgiving discount price of 10 cents. Other popular 1910 films included the sentimental “Abraham Lincoln’s Clemency,” an early, 13-minute version of “The Wizard of Oz,” a 16-minute version of “Frankenstein,” the nine-minute documentary “A Day in the Life of a Coal Miner,” the four-minute “Aeroplane Flight and Wreck,” and one of the earliest stop-motion films, the four-minute “The Automatic Moving Company,” about furniture moving itself into a house.

One 1910 movie sparked controversy in Ypsilanti over the issue of whether it should be shown at all. The film was of a famous boxing match between the world heavyweight champion, Jack Johnson, and former champion James Jeffries. Born in 1878 to two former slaves, Johnson ascended through the boxing ranks to win in 1903 what was then called the “World Colored Heavyweight Championship.” Johnson offered to fight the then-world heavyweight champion Jeffries, who refused. In 1908 Johnson caused a sensation by defeating Canadian Tom Burns in Australia for the world heavyweight championship. This triumph brought Jeffries out of retirement to challenge Johnson. On July 4, 1910, Reno hosted the “Fight of the Century.” When Johnson defeated Jeffries, winning $65,000 [$1.5 million in today’s dollars], black Americans celebrated and were attacked in race riots that broke out around the country. Multiple deaths were reported, especially in the South.

The film of the fight was widely banned, lest it reignite similar violence. When Bert Reader wrote to the film company to ask if he could show it, many Ypsilantians were apprehensive. The Daily Press asked the mayor if he would forbid the film’s screening at the Vaudette.

“Whether or not the Johnson-Jeffries fight picture will be shown in Ypsilanti is as yet an uncertain problem,” said the July 25, 1910 Ypsilanti Daily Press. “ . . . When asked if the pictures would be allowed, [the mayor] said, ‘I shall not interfere.’ The matter would be decided, concluded the paper, by the police commissioner. Ypsilanti police may have vetoed the screening, as no mention of it appears in subsequent issues of the paper.

By 1910, the era of opulent movie palaces was beginning, and that of dingy storefront nickelodeons was fading. The Daily Press condemned the Vaudette as a firetrap. The Press singled out the theater’s lack of safe fire exits and made reference to a recent nickelodeon fire in Dowagiac. There, the flammable celluloid film caught fire and the blaze destroyed the theater.

Bert closed the Vaudette around 1912 and returned to working as a barber. In 1915 the Martha Washington opened, offering plush blue seats and elegant decorations in place of wooden chairs in a bare room. The Wuerth opened. Eventually, the Vaudette’s building was demolished. Its onetime owner nearly lived to see a second centennial; he died in 1965 and with his wife and son is buried in St. John’s Cemetery.

Today the Vaudette’s onetime site is a parking lot, but a century ago, small audiences in front of a rattling film projector watched the magic of silent movies.

(Laura Bien is the author of “Hidden History of Ypsilanti” and “Tales from the Ypsilanti Archives.” She can be contacted at ypsidixit@gmail.com.)

Photo Caption:

Photo 1: A 1919 ad for a screening of the film “The Life of Moses”

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Spring 2012,
Spring 2012

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Original Images:

Author: James Mann

The house that once stood at 725 East Forest Avenue was a local landmark. Today, the lot at 725 East Forest is an empty space between two houses on the north side of the street. A hint of what the house looked like can be gleamed from the name of the street connecting East Forest to Holmes Road. The street is named Twin Towers.

The house that stood here was built by Frederick Fisher in the early 1890s. Fisher is listed in the 1892 city directory as rooming at 314 Congress. The next available directory, 1894, has him living at 725 East Forest. His occupation is listed as farmer, and there is no name for a wife.

From the directories

The 1897 directory noted Fisher had moved to Detroit, and Allen Nowlin, who had something to do with lumber, resided in the house. The 1899 directory has a Phillip Barringer residing at the house with his wife
Katherine. No occupation is listed by the directory for Phillip. Listed as rooming at the house are Edward and John Barringer, and each are listed as basket makers. The relationship of Edward and John to Phillip is not explained.

By 1901 the house was the residence of John Platten, who is listed as a farmer, his wife Eva. John DeMosh is also listed as residing at the house. John was in a livery and hack business with his father Joseph on Michigan Avenue. The listing for the 1903 directory is the same. Albert Bond, a real estate agent, and his wife Angie are listed in the 1907 directory at this address. Lettie Bond, a student, is listed as residing at the house. She is presumably a daughter of Albert and Angie. John Harper, a fruit grower, and his wife Melivina are listed in the 1912 directory. Then, in the 1914 directory, Arthur Garity, also a fruit grower, is listed as living alone at the house.

Frederick Zeigen and his wife Myrtle had moved into the house by 1914. He is sometimes listed in the directories as a real estate agent. The couple appears to have lived there with a family as an Eola Zeigen is listed as rooming at the house in the directories for 1922 and 1924. Eola is never listed after 1924, but a Phyllis Zeigen is listed as rooming at the house in the directory for 1926. These were most likely children of Frederick and Myrtle who had come of age. Frederick and his wife Myrtle continued to live in the house until 1930. The house was sold to a Charles Jordan of Detroit in 1930, but he never lived there. The house stood empty through the winter of 1930.

Destroyed by fire

Flames were seen shooting out of a room of the house just after 4 p.m. on Monday, June 1, 1931, and the Fire Department was called. The flames were brought under control by that evening. The upper part of the rear of the house was a charred mass, as was the entire second story. “Except for fire in the back stairway, flames did not reach the first floor. However, much of the antique interior work on this floor was thoroughly water soaked. The rear section of the building did not crumple, although most of the roof on the north and west sides burned away,” reported The Ypsilanti Daily Press on Tuesday, June 2, 1931.

“The top part of the tower on the west side,” continued the account, “was burned while no damage resulted to its mate on the east side. There were no furnishings in the house.”Approximately $10,000 in damage was done to the house. The house, the account noted, was insured. The blaze was believed to have started in a small closet near the kitchen. There was suspicion the cause of the fire was arson.“Residents of the district reported that less then one hour before the fire a large sedan was seen in the yard, and it had also been reported that children frequently played in the house,” reported The Ypsilanti Daily Press of Wednesday, June 3, 1931.The house was knocked down and the rubble pushed into the basement. Now there is only an empty space where the house once stood.

[James Mann is a regular contributor to the GLEANINGS and the author of many books and columns on local history. His most recent book, Wicked Ann Arbor, is a publication of The History Press and is enjoying great success
in that city.]

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2011,
Winter 2011

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Original Images:

Author: George Ridenour

EDITORS' NOTE:
The first four paragraphs of this article previously appeared in the Spring 2010 issue of GLEANINGS. In this follow-up, the author relates what happened following the train wreck. The original eyewitness account appeared in the Ypsilanti Press issues in January 1929.

On Monday, January 21, 1929 a freight train was passing through Depot Town in Ypsilanti. Michigan Central baggage man Fred Beck saw that a wheel truck of a freight car was off the track. It was number 12 of 85 cars. Before the train could be stopped, the car broke loose of its coupling, crossed the street lurching and crashing into the building that was then known as the Cadwell Building. You know it today as the patrio right by the tracks at the Sidetrack Bar and Grill. Now you know the reason for the odd right angle that sets it apart from every other building in the Depot Town area.

"Mrs. Louis Cadwell, the owner, who lived on the second floor, and left the building only a few minutes before and was going to her garage in back of the stores when she heard the crash. She rushed to the street to find the entire east wall caved in, her household effects strewn in the street, and the roof of the building sagging precariously. It fell in after the accident, leaving only the Cross Street wall standing and it was torn down soon after." Scott Sturtevant, a local auto dealer, was sitting in his car reading his mail. He was at the gate near River Street. "He saw, coming out of a large cloud of dust, a box car moving in his direction. Sturtevant quickly backed his car out of the way and was not hurt."

"Laura Kelsey, was standing on River Street waiting for the train to pass when the crash occurred. She was apparently hit by the truck after it was torn from the train and knocked unconscious." (Ypsilanti Press, January 21, 1929.)

The car crashed into the restaurant that was operated by Bert Ollett and his wife Cestia. Both were alone in the restaurant at the time. They were worried when the crash occurred that their young son might have been inside the building and killed or injured in the wreckage. However, he was later found safe at school.

Alonzo H. Miller, the Ypsilanti Fire Department Chief at the time, was at the scene as it occurred and took charge of the situation. He continued a career with the Ypsilanti Department.

So what happened to Bert Ollett and his wife Cestia who were inside the restaurant? Bert suffered minor bruises from the crash and "nervous shock." He was a member of the Knights of Pythias Lodge and a deputy sheriff of Washtenaw County for eitght years until his health failed. He lived in Ypsilanti for thirty-three years until the age of 67. He died in November of 1946. Cestia wuffered serious scalp wounds and "nervous shock" from the crash. later diagnosis would show she had a fractured skull, broken arm, and her left side was partially paralyzed. She lived to age 80 and passed away on February 7, 1972 at a convalescent home. She was a member of Cross Street Church of Christ, the Washtenaw Rebekah Lodge 270, the Home League of the Salvation Army, the Daughters of Union Veterans of the Civil War, and the Women's Relief Corps. She was survived by one daughter, two sons, five grandchildren and one great-great-granddaughter.

The cash register that was inside the restaurant was found but, when it was opened, there was no money inside. Also, Cestia's purse was never located which contained some checks and money.

What of Laura Kelsey who was hit by the train car? Her diagnosis was a broken right collar bone, lacerated right leg, badly torn muscles and scalp wounds. She and the others were taken to and treated at Beyer Hospital which was near the scene of the accident. Filed in the Ypsilanti Press of 1 February 1929, some eight days later, is the following notice in the Ypsilanti Briefs section: "Mrs. Laura Kelsey who was injured when a Michigan Central freight train crashed into the Cadwell building is getting along satisfactorily at Beyer Memorial Hospital. Wounds to her scalp and face have healed and a broken collar bone is healing. An injury to one leg is to be closed with stitches next week. She is still suffering from shock." She faded into history and nothing could be found of her past or her life after the trauma.

Another survivor was "Bobby" the canary owned by Mrs. Cadwell. He was feared dead when his battered cage was found in the wreckage. By the grace of God he was found about severn hours later, bedraggled, and laying in a heap of the rubbish! Funny he never got his photo taken, told his own story, nor is known by most of you as a "survivor of 29." Maybe someday!

The photo of the damage to the Cadwell building is rare and was never published. I discovered it on Facebook and was able to contact Mr. Richard Colegrove who led me on an adventure through photos and diaries of his grandfather, Charles Ray Utter. Charles was a conductor on the Ann Arbor-Ypsilanti Interurban Railroad and later worked as a barber in Ypsilanti. I deeply thank Richard and his family for giving me permission to publish in the GLEANINGS this rare photo of an event in Ypsilanti history that was not even published in the newspapers at the time of the crash.

(George Ridenour is a member of the YHS Archives Advisory Board, a regular volunteer in the Archives and a regular contributor to the GLEANINGS.)

Photo captions:

A rare photo of the damage to the Cadwell Building (now Sidetrack Bar and Grill) from the train wreck on January 21, 1929.

A highly romanticized drawing of the event was published in Italian newspapers. The artist worked from descriptions found in other news accounts.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2011,
Fall 2011

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Original Images:

Author: James Mann

The first mausoleum built in Washtenaw County is the Brayton Mausoleum in Highland Cemetery. The mausoleum is located in Lot 4, Block 64, of the cemetery. The mausoleum was built in 1913 or 1914, by Zackman & Armet of Ann Arbor, at a cost of about $6,500. The architect was Herman Pipp of Ann Arbor, who is perhaps best remembered as the architect of Nickels Arcade.

“The tomb is of sarcophagus design with corners relieved by Tuscan columns and surmounted by a dome top,” reported The Daily Ypsilanti Press of January 2, 1914. “The exterior,” continued the account, “is made of Vermont gray granite, and the interior which comprises four crypts is finished in Italian marble.” “The grill doors and vents are of standard bronze,” noted the account. There is a stained glass window in the rear wall of the mausoleum. “A part of the monument was so large that it was necessary to send out of the city for apparatus to unload it from the car on which it was shipped and transported to the cemetery.”

The lot on which the mausoleum stands was purchased by Jennie L. Brayton on June 14, 1910. Her father, Jerome R. Brayton died on August 27th of that year, and was interned on the lot. It is likely his remains were disinterred and placed in the cemetery’s receiving vault during construction of the mausoleum.

Jennie Brayton was the daughter of Jerome and Rachel Brayton, and was born on January 14, 1863, at Seneca Castle, Ontario County, New York. When Jennie was still young, the family moved to the Village of Rawsonville, east of Ypsilanti. She married Dr. Flores Eugene Holmes, on September 4, 1913, and moved with him to Ypsilanti. The couple had no children. Dr. Holmes died in 1924, and was entombed in the mausoleum, as was Jennie Holmes’ mother. Jennie Holmes died at her home in Ypsilanti on March 7, 1931, and was entombed with her family on March 10, 1931.

(James Mann is a local historian and author, a volunteer in the YHS Archives and a regular contributor to the GLEANINGS.)

PHOTO CAPTIONS:

Photo 1: At the rear of the mausoleum is a stained glass window that is protected by a wrought iron grill and a sheet of clear plastic

Photo 2: Highland Cemetery’s Brayton Mausoleum, built in 1913 or 1914, was the first mausoleum built in Washtenaw County

Photo 3: Other mausoleums at Highland Cemetery
STARKWEATHER, HIGHLAND, MORRIS, COOK, GERGANOFF, A.D. MCMXXV

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2011,
Fall 2011

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Original Images:

Author: Laura Bien

The recent excavation of forgotten graves is not the first time bones have been found on the northeastern part of EMU’s campus. “A bulldozer clearing the site for Eastern Michigan University’s new physical education building has uncovered part of a human skull and a large human bone,” read an article in the August 30, 1961 Ypsilanti Press. The article reported that the bones were found “200 yards north of the Buell-Downing residence hall area on the campus.” (The intervening Putnam/Sellers/Walton/Phelps residence complex was not built until 1966 & 1968).

The paper contacted officials who said “…the normal procedure when cemetery ground is sold is to have the bodies removed and replaced in another cemetery…apparently this grave was unmarked at the time the others were moved.” Those officials were members of the local Catholic diocese, since the land was once a Catholic cemetery operated by St. John the Baptist Church.

In 1874, the square parcel occupied the land bounded on the south by the then-longer St. John’s Street and on the east by a now-vanished road parallel to and west of Ann Street. The plot was bounded on the north by the now-vanished Lake Shore and Michigan Southern railroad curving northwest from the Ypsilanti depot, and on the west by a large land parcel owned by prominent Ypsilanti farmer William Jarvis. Today, the onetime site contains the Physical Plant on its northeast corner, almost all of the Putnam/Sellers/Walton/Phelps residence complex, the Wise residence hall (but not the DC 1 dining commons), the northern half of Buell residence hall, and a sliver of the east side of University Park.

The land had been purchased from Jarvis with a gift of money from Civil War soldiers. Belgian-born St. John’s pastor Edward Van Paemel “…was so solicitous of the welfare of Civil War troops housed in the Thompson building at the depot,” says one church history, “that when they left they donated $500 to the parish” [the equivalent of $7,000 today]. “This was used to buy space for a cemetery at the foot of St. John’s Street near Forest Avenue.” The men were members of the 14th Michigan Infantry.

By the late 1880s, it was clear a larger space was needed. The purchase of a new plot of land was reported in the April 13, 1888 Ypsilanti Commercial. “Owing to the present condition of the St. John’s cemetery, the Rev. Father De Bever has purchased for the sum of $1,400 [$33,500 today] 14 acres on the corner of River Street and the north line of the township, for a new cemetery” [the present-day St. John’s Cemetery]. The article continued, “The ground which is hilly and well suited for the purpose is directly opposite Highland Cemetery. The old ground will bring enough to meet all expenses incurred in buying and improving the new burial place.” Contrary to this projected sale, the old cemetery land wasn’t sold. On the 1895 Ypsilanti plat map, it still appears labeled as the “Old Catholic Cemetery.”

According to the Washtenaw County Genealogical Society’s county cemetery directory, the Old Catholic Cemetery was “vacated” (bodies removed) in 1900, and moved to the present-day St. John’s cemetery. On the next available historical plat map, that of 1915, the land is bare and unnamed.

The re-interment occurred under the leadership of Pastor Frank Kennedy, who served the church from 1892 until 1922 and had a reputation for a brilliant intellect, having passed his state board teaching examinations at the age of 11. During his tenure, Kennedy undertook several renovation projects, “tearing the cupola off the rectory and removing horse sheds,” reads one church history. “Kitchen, dining, recreation rooms and a library were added. The front lawn was filled with dirt from the old cemetery and was landscaped.” Despite Kennedy’s work, the main church building, built in 1858, was becoming inadequate for the congregation. Kennedy died in 1922, and was followed by pastor Dennis Needham who planned a grand new church.

A year later, Needham secured permission from diocese officials and sold the land to EMU. The church needed the money from the land sale to build the imposing present-day Romanesque structure. Detroit architects McGrath and Dohmen designed the structure. The sale helped begin construction, but funds remained tight. The basement of the present-day church was completed in 1924, but work stopped there for some time - though services continued in the basement.

Construction of the entire building wasn’t completed until 1932, with a final total cost of $98,000 [about $1,550,000 today]. Decoration of the interior took another decade. Finally around WWII it was done.

The Old Catholic Cemetery is not the only cemetery discovered on the grounds of EMU. In the 1940s, according to one witness, the start of construction for the onetime Pine Grove Terrace apartments (demolished in 2005-2006 to make space for the Student Center) revealed “a dozen or more old, old bones.” The witness was 1920s EMU student Edward Heyman, and his recollection of the scene is reproduced here: “In the early 1920s the northwest corner of Michigan State Normal College was a field of weeds and brush. The college decided to clean it up. A number of college students who were working part time to help pay their college expenses were sent up there, near the corner of the present Collegewood Drive and Hillside Court, to clean it up and to plant “baby” pine trees. As one of these students, I was interested in the area and especially in the fact that Professor William H. Sherzer, head of the Department of Natural Science, told us that the area was the site of an early Indian cemetery.

The trees were planted and the area was called Pine Grove or Pine Grove Park. Digging to plant the pines did not go deep enough to uncover any graves.

In the 1940s the college decided to build a number of apartment houses there, for married students. Seeing the pine trees, which I helped plant years before, being cut down and basements being dug, I walked over to the area to see what was happening. In the debris of the digging were a dozen or more old, old bones. The man in charge of the excavation said they were Indian bones, that the digging had uncovered remains of several graves . . .” --Edward Heyman March 10, 1970.”

Today the EMU Student Center’s peaceful Kiva Room overlooks the onetime site. Whether Native American or Catholic, one hopes that the spirits of all of those once interred on EMU’s grounds are at peace.

[Laura Bien is a history columnist with the Ann Arbor Chronicle and the Ypsilanti Courier. Her second book, “Hidden Ypsilanti,” will be published in late 2011. This article first appeared in the Ypsilanti Courier.]

PHOTO CAPTIONS:

Photo 1: The church. built from 1856 to 1858 on Cross Street. was dedicated to St. John the Baptist

Photo 2. The Catholic Cemetery on this 1874 plat map occupied land on the present-day northeast corner of EMU’s campus

Photo 3: Pastor Frank Kennedy presided over the re-interment of bodies from the old Catholic Cemetery to the present-day St. John’s Cemetery

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Summer 2011,
Summer 2011

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Original Images:

Author: Janice Anschuetz

In light of current improvements to the Ypsilanti Freight House, and with growing hope for renovation of the old train station and the Thompson Block on North River Street, it seems a good time to look back to another inspired transformation that occurred in the same part of Ypsilanti 120 years ago.

Around the year 1890, the Michigan Central train company became concerned that blight in the area of the train station, especially the smelly stockyard and unattractive oil tanks that occupied the land behind it, were giving a poor impression of Ypsilanti to those who stopped at the train station or looked out from the many trains that passed through the city each day. To counter the negative impression, Michigan Central decided to make a positive change in the area, just as many Ypsilantians are trying to do again today.

In a newspaper article from 1890, we read these headlines: “Planning Change, Michigan Central May Enlarge Gardens”; and “Unsightly Features Such as Stock Yards to Be Taken Away – Will Greatly Improve the Grounds.”

The article begins by telling us that “The Michigan Central railroad is said to be contemplating another big improvement at their depot in this city that will add greatly to the beauty and attractiveness of Ypsilanti.” It notes that the gardens at the train depot were considered “the prettiest on the road,” but that they were cramped for space.

“Just west of the gardens,” the article explains, “are located a big ugly oil tank and the unsightly odoriferous stockyards. Now the plan is to move this tank and the evil smelling stockyards and add the ground they occupy to the gardens…. The only drawback to the plan is the fact that the officials cannot find a suitable place to put the stockyard or the oil tanks, as no one is especially fond of having either of them in the vicinity.” We learn further that, already, “the three story train station was given a new coat of paint and redecorated…. The interior was especially shabby, but it certainly looks handsome now.”

As things turned out, the envisioned improvements to the train station area were completed in only two years, bringing spectacular change and transforming the impression of Ypsilanti gained by those who looked out from windows of passing trains. The imagination and work it had taken to relocate the stockyards and oil tanks and replace them with gardens paid off in a greatly enhanced city image. In fact, both the train station gardens, and other gardens around the city, were not only a constant source of delight for Ypsilanti residents, but so beautiful that people actually came from outside the city to experience them. In a newspaper article from 1892, we read about one such garden: “The garden is now in its glory and the brightest beauty spot between Sandy Hook and the Golden Horn – between Portland on the east and Portland on the west…. It has undoubtedly done more to spread the fame and brighten the name of Ypsilanti in the minds of people who know us not, than any other institution here.”

Maintenance of the gardens and grounds was entrusted to a genius with plants, John Laidlaw, a native of Scotland who had been an experienced gardener for 24 years. Laidlaw was hired officially as “Superintendent of Landscape Gardening, for the Michigan Central Rail Road.” He was responsible not only for planning, planting and supervising the gardens at the Ypsilanti railroad yards, but at yards all along the rail line and at other stations as well.

In a newspaper article from July 27, 1899, there is speculation about the theme of the Ypsilanti gardens for that year. “There has been much query as to what was to be the great feature of the Michigan Central depot garden this year,” we read. “Owing to the fact that twenty-seven other depot gardens are supplied from the Central’s greenhouse at Ypsilanti under Mr. Laidlaw’s direction, the work here has been somewhat delayed. This year Lansing, Bay City, and Mackinac have been added to the list of towns supplied from here. But from the present activity at the gardens, it is evident that Mr. Laidlaw is again surpassing all his previous achievements and that the Michigan Central gardens at Ypsilanti will again become the eagerly watched for spot on the Detroit and Chicago line of the road.”

The gardens for the year 1897 were described in an article from the weekly newspaper The Ypsilantian: “Lovers of the beautiful should not delay to visit the Michigan Central depot garden which is now at its loveliest. South of the baggage room is a beautiful specimen of carpet bedding, geometrical designs worked out in different colored coleus and achyranthes, with alyssum for contrast. This however, is but an earnest of the beauty to be found north of the passenger station. Here the velvety green of the lawn forms a perfect setting for the handsome display of foliage and flower. The paths are outlined by graceful sweeps of foliage plants and alyssum. The eye is first caught by the beautiful bed devoted to the emblems of the Mystic Shriners. The bed slopes gently backward and the figures stand out with great distinctness…. A little further on is the famous Liberty Bell, flanked by cannon and crossed muskets. This is the design which seems to strike a responsive chord in the heart of every traveler, if one may judge from the enthusiastic remarks overheard on trains. The bell itself is seven feet across the mouth and 6 feet 9 inches in length. This design contains 17,000 plants…. At the right near the water tank is Mr. Laidlaw’s leading design for the season – the Log Cabin, the old fashioned well sweep and curb with the old bucket resting thereon, and on the other side of the cabin, the familiar soap-kettle with a fire made of achyranthes underneath.”
As if the magnificent flower gardens were not enough to make a positive impression on those from out of town, the station manager, Mr. Brazil M. Damon, had still another brilliant marketing ploy to convince railroad passengers that Ypsilanti was a pleasant and beautiful place to either visit or pass through. That ploy was the world- famous Ypsilanti Flower Girls -- who were tasked with distributing flowers to passengers on arriving New York Central trains.

One of the original Flower Girls was Jessie Swaine, who lived at the corner of East Forest and North River Street, just two blocks from the train station. She gives us more information about her duties in an oral history recorded in January, 1965, when she was in her eighties, and in a newspaper article from the 1920s.

According to Jessie Swaine, Mr. Damon’s older daughter, Avonia, was responsible for purchasing the flowers, which she arranged into small bouquets containing three or four flowers each. Some of the flowers were grown in the greenhouse near the train station, and others were obtained from ladies in Ypsilanti for one cent a bunch.

Jessie Swaine and the station master’s younger daughter, Lillian Damon, would be ready to distribute the flowers when New York Central passenger trains stopped in Ypsilanti three or four times a day. To perform their task, the Flower Girls were excused from school an hour each morning. Miss Swaine explained: “I would start at one end of the train and Lillian Damon, the daughter of the yard-master, would start at the other end. We would get on three or four trains a day. The engineer would give us a special whistle to make sure we were off the train before it started again.”

Miss Swaine told how the women passengers were impressed and delighted with this gesture. “Sometimes,” she says, “even the men would ask us for flowers. They said that the bouquets looked so very pretty. And if we had enough extra bouquets, we would occasionally give some to the men.” For their efforts, the Flower Girls were each paid 15 cents a day. Eventually, Jessie Swaine replaced the duties of Avonia, and was paid 75 cents a day for purchasing and arranging the flowers.

Nearly everyone in Ypsilanti has seen the picture of the Train Flower Girls in the station gardens. Miss Swaine describes the day that picture was taken -- in August, 1892. The two girls are wearing their Flower Girl uniforms, which Miss Swaine describes as dark blue, with white bands on the hem and sleeves, and sailor hats. Her father, Frederick Swaine, a maltster, is on the right, and Mr. Damon, the station master, on the left. Miss Swaine notes that her father just happened to be waiting for the train to Ann Arbor the day the photographer was there to take her and Lillian’s photograph in the gardens. In the oral-history interview, she proudly relates that the story of the Ypsilanti gardens and the Train Flower Girls was even written about in the London Times. Her father had spent his youth in London, before immigrating to Ypsilanti in the early 1870’s, so Ms. Swaine found the story in the Times a particular source of pride.

The magnificent flower gardens at the Ypsilanti train station seem to have disappeared as still another victim of the Great Depression. Today, they exist only in browning remnants of the printed word, in a few old photographs, and perhaps in the memory of a few very old people.

Today, too, the pre-gardens blight of 120 years ago has returned in the form of the abandoned train station and crumbling Thompson Block that meet the eyes of train passengers who pass through our town on the Amtrak. We can only hope that, like the enlightened citizens and business people in the Ypsilanti of 1890, visionaries in our own day will find ways to make Ypsilanti a showcase of beauty and delight. Once more, the obvious starting point is the train station area, where both the boarded-up station and Thompson Block building cry out for renovation and reintegration into the city’s life. For those of us who live on North River Street, “hope springs eternal” that the flowers will bloom again.

(Janice Anschuetz lives with her husband in the Swaine House and spends time with her gardens and restoration. She loves history and stories about people in their time in history, and has a double major in history and sociology from Eastern Michigan University and a MSW in social work from The University of Michigan. She is currently researching and writing her third book - a history of one of her ancestors and their role in the shaping of England and America.)

Picture Captions:

Photo 1: A view of the area around the Ypsilanti Michigan Central train station in the 1870s.

Photo 2: Michigan Central depot gardens in 1891.

Photo 3: One of the featured plantings in the Michigan Central gardens was the Liberty Bell.

Photo 4: In 1899 the featured planting in the gardens was a log house.

Photo 5: The Ypsilanti flower girls. At the left is the station master, Brazil Damon, in the center is Jessie Swaine (on the left) and Lillian Damon, and on the right is Fred Swaine.

Photo 6: A view of the depot gardens in 1919.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Spring 2011,
Spring 2011

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Original Images:

Spring 2011

Author: James Mann

There are places that seem to have always been around, that warm comfortable chair, the never changing view out the window and the people who always give a greeting when someone enters the door. One such place is the Bomber Restaurant at 306 East Michigan Avenue which seems the same, but has changed over the years.

Florence Baldwin opened her restaurant in 1936, and called it the Baldwin Diner. Florence had just separated from her husband and opened her diner to compete with his Averill’s Diner just down the block (Note: see Lost Restaurants of Ypsilanti article in Fall – 2010 issue of the Gleanings). Back then the Baldwin Diner was the quintessential diner, with the big horseshoe shaped counter at the back, and the cooks used a coal burner. Those were the days when a hot beef sandwich was 15 cents and a pork chop dinner was 25 cents.

Then came the years of the Second World War when the bomber plant opened at Willow Run, where Ford built the B-24 Liberator Bomber. To operate the plant, Ford brought in workers from Kentucky and Tennessee. Ypsilanti changed from a sleepy college town to a factory town seemingly over night. Florence changed the name of her diner to the Bomber and made the out of state workers feel welcomed. She added to the menu items that would appeal to the workers, such as beans with cornbread, red-eye gravy and Southern-style grits. On the window was the image of a fighter plane, with unlikely shaped wings. The Bomber was filled with hungry workers at all hours of the day and night. She kept the place running in spite of war time rationing.

After the war Florence’s son Yale “Red” Averill joined his mother in the business as a partner. Florence retired in 1976 and died in 1978. Red Averill sold the business in 1976. The new owners renamed the business Bob’s Bar B-Q.

The restaurant was purchased in November of 1989 by Joseph Nellis, a local pharmacist. He hung a sign in the window: “The Bomber is Back.” Nellis restored the name and began to remodel the interior on a World War II theme. The decorating included flags and photographs from the war years.

Then on December 21, 1989, just weeks after Nellis purchased the business, the building was gutted by fire. The restaurant had opened at 5:00 am that morning. The deep fryer started to emit smoke and was turned off, but the switch failed to work, and smoke continued to emit from the fryer. The fire was doused with a fire extinguisher, and the fire would seem to go out for a few minutes and then flame up again. Unable to contain the blaze, the flames spread from the kitchen.

Traffic on Michigan Ave. was rerouted for several hours because of the fire. Firefighters had trouble staying on their feet, as water sprayed on the fire turned to ice in the below-zero cold. The loss to the fire was estimated at $100,000.

The Bomber reopened after repairs were completed and improvements made to the building. The once narrow space was now wider and more open. Tables no longer had one leg shorter than the others, and new booths replaced the ones destroyed in the fire. The place ended up with pink walls, a Kelly green carpet, flowers on the tables and big wooden spindle-backed armchairs at the tables and counter. The regulars came back and new patrons came in the door.

Johanna McCoy and John Sebestyen purchased the Bomber in 1995, and continued the use of the name and the history. They painted the walls, hung new curtains, installed a new ceiling and made changes to the menu. In keeping with the 1940’s theme, patrons began bringing in model airplanes of the war years, as well as photographs of B-24’s, Willow Village, as well as other items, including uniforms and a hand grenade. The model planes now hang from the ceiling in simulated flight above the tables. On the walls are the photographs, rifles, posters and other items.

The Bomber restaurant made history of its own in 2003, when the Food Network showcased the Bomber Breakfast on a program about over the top portions. The Bomber Breakfast includes four eggs, a pound of potatoes and a pound of meat. This is the perfect meal to share with friends.

Today the Bomber is a part of the lives of those who stop in for breakfast or lunch, and many have been doing so for years. The regulars come in and expect to sit in the same chair in the same spot every time. There are the coffee groups who come in and sit at one of the tables to sip coffee and talk. The place has become a part of the personal history of the patrons. The Bomber will continue to have a history for as long as those patrons come for the coffee, the food and the company.

John Sebestyen, co-owner of The Bomber, died on January 26, 2011. All his friends from The Bomber miss him. Johanna McCoy, who co-owned and managed The Bomber, with John still runs the restaurant. The history of The Bomber continues.

(James Mann is a local historian, author and speaker who is a volunteer in the YHS Archives and a regular contributor to the Gleanings.)

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: The front window of the Bomber Restaurant shortly after Florence Baldwin changed the name from the Baldwin Diner.

Photo 2: After World War II Florence Baldwin’s son Yale “Red” Averill joined his mother in the business as a partner.

Photo 3: John Sebestyen was co-owner of The Bomber beginning in 1995 until his death on January 26, 2011.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Spring 2011,
Spring 2011

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Original Images:

Spring 2011

Author: Derek Spinei

In the 1940s, Ypsilanti was home to one of the tiniest businesses in the state of Michigan. Terence S. Vincent’s hobby shop at 103 ½ North Washington was 4.5 ft by 10 ft. with a 12 ft. ceiling. No one seems to know where he came from, but according to a 1947 Detroit Free Press article he moved to Ypsilanti and opened his business because “it’s a good way to retire” and keep up interest in persons and events. In a former life he was a newspaper man, having written 2,000 one-page stories and 400 radio transcripts. He continued writing accounts of his neighborhood while sitting in the shop waiting for customers.

To say he was an eccentric is an understatement. He was known to promote the sale of box kites for “kite fishing,” whereby he would use a kite to drag fishing lines across the water while he relaxed on the bank. However his real specialty was “travelcraft,” as he called things that go. A 1947 advertisement stated:

Terence Vincent’s Aircraft Are “Easy To Make - Sure to Fly For Beginners”
Balsa - Wire - Cement - Dope - Boats - Wagons - Model Airplanes - Knives and Blades - Tissue - Thinner - Engines (Gas, Diesel, CO2) - Fuel.

Few business ventures can function in so small a space. Prior to the hobby shop, it served as a news stand and in the 1930s it was a taxi stand for the Wolverine Cab Company. More recently the space was part of Carty’s Music until the commercial buildings on the northwest corner of Washington and Pearl Streets were demolished for an entrance to a parking lot in the late 1980s or early 1990s.

As for Mr. Vincent, he seems to have slipped through the cracks of history. After residing in a modest old house at 501 North Hamilton Street, he quietly disappears from the public record in the 1950s, with no evidence in the archives as to when he passed away or where he is buried. At least we know that for a short time he was able to bring joy to the children of Ypsilanti and enjoy his final years.

(Derek Spinei is a student in the graduate program in Historical Preservation at EMU and is serving an internship in the YHS Archives.)

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: Terence Vincent standing in the doorway of his hobby shop.

Photo 2: Terence Vincent outside his hobby shop demonstrating how to fly a kite to potential customers.

Photo 3: Terence Vincent demonstrating how to assemble one of the kits sold in his hobby shop.
Photo 4: In a former life Vincent was a newspaper man and he continued to write stories about his neighborhood as he sat in his shop waiting for customers.

Photo 5: Children looking at the window display in the front door of Vincent’s hobby shop.