Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2012,
Fall 2012

---

Original Images:

Quilt Exhibit – Sept 23 to Oct 14

This year the Ypsilanti Historical Museum will present its 10th annual Quilt Exhibit from September 23 thru October 14. You will want to visit during that time to see the array of beautiful quilts crafted by local artists.

In addition, you will have an opportunity to win a quilt crafted by a member of the Historical Society and on display in the Heritage Room. This quilt may be used as a large wall hanging or a sofa quilt. It is titled “Wisdom” and is described as “a scrappy log cabin quilt – with attitude.” The centers of the log cabin blocks consist of quotations by well-known persons, both past and present. You need only drop a donation and your name and phone number in the receptacle provided. The drawing will take place at the close of the Exhibit and the winner will be notified shortly thereafter. The proceeds from this drawing will be dedicated to much needed enhancements to the Museum.

Photo Caption:

Photo: “Wisdom” is described as “a scrappy log cabin quilt – with attitude.”

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Summer 2012,
Summer 2012

---

Original Images:

We remember Hometown parades

Ypsilantians love a parade and we have lots of them in our town. Most of Ypsilanti’s parades have hundreds of folks marching and thousands more on the sidelines watching and waving. Some newer and shorter parades encourage the folks on the sidewalk to get up and walk in the street with them. Like Garrison Keillor’s fictitious “Lake Wobegon,” sometimes we have to participatae in the parade and then get a place on the sidewalk and watch the rest of the parade go by. It’s a continuous process and one that is enjoyed by all.

Ypsilanti’s notable parades include homecomings for all the schools and colleges in the area, the solemn Memorial Day example––which is not a parade at all, but a procession, the oldest Independence Day Parade in the state, and the 35-year-old Heritage Parade that celebrate’s our community’s proud history.

Other parades that pop up intermittently have included a Santa Claus Parade, St. Patrick’s Day Parade, and countless line-ups of vintage vehicles. This July will see the famed Great Race vintage vehicles finish their route around the Great Lakes as they stop here for lunch on the way to the finish line at Dearborn’s Henry Ford.

[Photo caption from original print edition]: In 1937, the American Legion sponsored the Fourth of July Parade on Michigan Ave. [Fletcher-White Archives]

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2011,
Winter 2011

---

Original Images:

Ypsilanti is crawling with history, but it’s rolling with it too. Vintage auto exhibitions in Riverside Park and the every-Thursday summer Cruise Nights give ample evidence that all our ancient history is not just old buildings; it’s old cars too. Carmel Robert’s story (below) from the Historic Vehicle Association brings collectors of authentic vintage vehicles up to date on efforts to preserve and protect their prized possessions.

From “Making Your Collector Car a Historic Treasure”
HVA group seeks to extend National Historic Preservation Act to cover vintage automobiles

Should your historic vehicle have the same cultural status and favorable regulatory treat- ment as historic buildings? That was an in- triguing question for the HVA. After taking the idea out for a test drive, it appears that the answer may hold the key to long-term, significant benefits for collector cars.

Historic buildings, airplanes, canoes, gas stations and strips of highway have all found official recognition, status and pro- tection under the National Historic Preser- vation Act of 1966. It’s an odd quirk that the most significant invention of the 20th century has yet to take its formal place alongside buildings and other transportation-related sites and historic objects.

While there are many possible reasons for the omission of collector cars in the existing framework, there is one reason that quickly comes to mind––thinking of our “iron” as historic or culturally significant is counterintuitive to most collectors. The typical collector is more motivated by nostalgia than the thought of preserving a vehicle or being a steward of a piece of history.

We are in our early stages of exploration on this idea, but we have had encouraging dialogue and feedback from a number of prominent collectors and historians inside and outside the collector car world about the benefits of including collector cars in the National Historic Preservation Act. In our initial research we found that inclusion under the Act is always voluntary, and the rights of the property owner remain intact. We aren’t interested in pursuing any initiative that would create more red tape or allow the government to tell us how to use our cars.

The HVA’s mission is to keep “Yesterday’s Vehicles on Tomorrow’s Roads” by estab- lishing a collaborative platform among historic vehicle enthusiasts.

Ypsilanti has hot rods and fire trucks, “orphans” and semis, vintage vehicles and classic cars. Our streets, parking lots, diveways, and garages are burgeoning with history on wheels. And it’s no wonder: many of them were conceived and born right here. They are as much a part of our heritage as are our buildings, parks, monuments, and cemeteries.

Photo caption: The question arose at the final Cruise Night of the summer in Depot Town: We’ve got old buildings,garages, barns, and even a caboose in our famed Historic District; why not include old cars as well?

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2011,
Winter 2011

---

Original Images:

Author: Peg Porter

My Diary: January 1, 1951- I went skating today. We had a good New Years dinner. Michigan won in the Rose Bole. (Sic).

It all started with Sonja Henie, the very blonde Norwegian Olympic champion in figure skating. Sonja went on to appear in movies in the late 1930s and 1940s. She also had her own ice show that traveled the country. I do not remember when I first became aware of Sonja. I do remem- ber, however, that I wanted to become like Sonja, dancing on ice.

My first skates were double runners, baby skates that strapped onto your shoe or boot. Gliding across the ice was impossi- ble. I could stand upright and do a sort of walking motion and once I gained enough forward momentum could put my feet to- gether and actually move a few inches. Ice dancing it was not.

My dad took me to an ice rink on Frog Island. I was bundled up against the cold, layers under my snowsuit with a scarf wrapped around my neck. Once my skates were strapped on I stepped onto the ice and began my walking motion. There were other skaters gliding by. That is what I wanted to do but could not. Still it was exciting to be on a real rink. After about 30 minutes of waddling around the ice I got cold and was ready to go home. The Sonja dream was fading fast.

But then there was a minor miracle. Sonja Henie came to Detroit, Dad got tickets and off we went to the Olympia to see Sonja in person. She did not disappoint, she glittered and sparkled while she danced across the ice. I, along with hundreds of other little girls, was captivated. We did not notice that she was no longer as young as she was when she won her gold medals. She was our beautiful ice dancer.

My next skates were real figure skates. They had belonged to one of the older girls in the neighborhood, most likely Su- sie or Barbie Brien. Their father, Bancroft Brien, had a shoe store downtown. The skates were too big, of course, but I wore several pairs of thick socks and stuffed the toes with cotton. When I laced them up tight they almost felt as if they fit.

In the winter, there was a large rink in Recreation Park. One of my friends and I would walk the five blocks from our house on Owendale to the Park. If we left right after school, we could get almost two hours of skating in before it began to get dark. We changed into our skates in a shed at the edge of the rink, took a few steps to the ice and then joined the other skaters traveling counter clockwise around the rink. Since I’d been roller skating for a few years, the skating motion came eas- ily. We went around and around until the sky started to darken and the streetlights.

came on. By then we were cold and ready to leave. Our feet felt frozen on the walk home. They did not begin to warm up un- til we were eating our evening meal. Then began the exquisite agony of the circula- tion returning to our extremities that hurt, stung and felt good all at the same time.

The following Christmas I got my own skates, brilliant white with sharp, shiny blades. By now I had learned how to skate backwards and to rotate on the ice. I probably tried to do an arabesque with a minimum of wobbling. Still most of the time was spend circling the rink. On one outing I felt a sharp stinging pain in my right foot. I’d been hit by a hockey puck. The hockey players were confined to one end of the rink but pucks did not recognize boundaries. Hockey skate boots have a lot of padding, figure skating boots don’t. Getting hit by a puck hurt!

There was another trip to Olympia to see an ice show. This one featured Barbara Ann Scott, a Canadian Olympic medalist. Unlike Sonja, she was not an “ice princess,” she was a more athletic skater. I half convinced myself that Barbara and I were distant cousins. My grandparents were born in Canada and my great-grand- mother from Scotland was named Ellen Scott. So it seemed possible. Actually my Canadian cousins were hockey players.

About the time I left Estabrook to begin junior high at Roosevelt, my skating days came to a quiet close. I had a chance to try out for the Ann Arbor Skating Club that I turned down. Our parents always emphasized choices. You could not do every- thing so starting a new activity meant ending another one. There was another reason though: fear. At some point I knew I would have to do jumps. Leaping and jumping were no problem in Grace Begoles’s bal- let studio. The surface there, however, was wood. The thought of both feet leaving the ice and then landing on the hard, slip- pery surface was more than I could deal with.

Growing up involves gaining realistic expectations. As painful as it sometimes was, I let go of some of my dreams. The skates went to the back of the closet.

(Peg Porter grew up in Ypsilanti and is the GLEANINGS Assistant Editor and a regular contributor of articles for our publication.)

Photo captions:

Photo 1: Sonja Henie, Norwegian Olympic figure skating champion, appeared in movies in the late 1930s and 1940s

Photo 2: Barbara Ann Scott, a Canadian Olympic figure skating medalist, was a very athletic skater

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Spring 2011,
Spring 2011

---

Original Images:

Spring 2011

Author: Janice Anschuetz

The label “Victorian woman” usually brings to mind a woman in a long gown with plenty of petticoats, a high neckline, long sleeves and gloves, sitting in an ornate parlor chair, drinking tea, and gossiping behind a hand-held fan. That was not the case, however, with Florence and Jessie Swaine. They are the adventuresome sisters who were born and lived in the Swaine House at the corner of North River and East Forest, and influenced many a youngster by becoming teachers.

In 1915, during their summer vacation from teaching, they traveled by car over 1,600 miles to see something of the country and share good times with friends. The ten-day circular trip took them from Ypsilanti, to Cleveland, to Pittsburgh, to Gettysburg, to Washington, D.C., to Atlantic City, to Philadelphia, and back to Cleveland, from where they returned to Detroit by boat. The following place-by-place account is their story. Although it is not signed, we can guess at its author, who at one point makes a reference to “mother and Florence.” That makes it probable that it was written by Bertha Smith, who appears to be the daughter of Mrs. F. E. Smith. We can also infer that Dudley Smith, “whose party it was,” and presumably the driver, is related to the other two passengers with the surname Smith.

This gem of a story allows us a look back into a time when an automobile offered a new way to travel and gasoline was about 14 cents a gallon. The narrative was found in the Ypsilanti Historical Museum archives, with other papers left to the museum by Florence and Jessie Swaine. Here it is, exactly as originally written:

AUTOMOBILE TRIP: June 27 to July 8, 1915 - The party was composed of Florence and Jessie Swaine, Edith Shaw, Mrs. F. E. Smith, Ruth and Bertha Smith and Dudley K. Smith, whose party it was. The car was a 1915 Paige Six.

The cities represented were Ypsilanti, Ann Arbor, Marshall, Detroit and Royal Oak; all of Michigan. The license of the car was 10031. The speedometer registered 524 miles when we left Ypsilanti.

The party left Ypsilanti at 10:30 Eastern Time and reached Toledo at 2:00 p.m. Eastern Time, stopping to eat lunch by the roadside at Dundee. Passed through Woodville, Fremont, Clude, Bellevue, Monroeville, Norwalk, where we stopped and had ice cream and Edith Shaw called on a cousin. The Smiths called on the Bacons at Toledo, Wakoman, Ripton, Elyria. Arrived at Cleveland at 9:00 p.m. 699 miles. Called on the Wicks, (that is, the Smiths did). Spent the night at the Hotel Regent on Euclid Avenue near 105 Street. Left there at 9:30 Monday morning, June 28th. Passed through Bedford, Twinsburg, Hudson, Darwinville, Kent, Ravenna, Palmyra, Youngstown, stopped there and had water-melon. Time 3:30. 781 miles. Jessie Swaine and Edith Shaw had a mutual friend on whom Edith called up there. From there on to Pittsburgh passing through Sowickley, a very beautiful place, on into Allegheny, where we had supper and across the river into Pittsburgh at 9:00. Spent the night there at Hotel Anderson, speedometer registered 852 miles. Left Tuesday morning June 29th at 8:45. Drove around Schenley Park, which is a very beautiful park high up. Pittsburgh is very hilly. Business portion very unattractive. Saw the block house of Fort Pitt, which was built in 1764 – now owned by the Daughters of the American Revolution of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania.
From Pittsburgh we went on to Gettysburg on the Lincoln Highway. Lunched in a field on the way across from an old oil well which we examined and where Florence Swaine lost the heel of one of her slippers. On this ride we went over the Allegheny Mountains and on the way into Ligonier had a race up hills and down with some Elks on the way to a picnic. Beautiful ride.
Stopped at Grand View Point, which is considered to be the best view point between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia and certainly was very fine. Passed through Bedford, Harrisonburg, bought lunch, bolony (bad). Wonderful view. Had supper at Chambersburg, had frog supper 9:15 p.m. Lost suitcase on way to Gettysburg over mountains. Arrived at Gettysburg 12:00 p.m. Stayed at Eagle Hotel, had Harry Long for guide around battlefield and places of interest. June 30th. Battlefield 16,000 acres, cost 7 million. Went to Round Top Hill, Peach Orchard, Wheatfield, Cupps Hill. Saw where the fish hook line was, Spangler Spring and woods, Cemetery Hill and Seminary Hill. Left there at 12:45 p.m. Passed through Emmetsburg, Frederick (Barbara Fritchie), Hagertown, arriving at Washington through Chevy Chase at 5:00 p.m., going around Rock Creek Park and Zoological Park on the way in. Called on Mrs. Watling, rode around the city. Called for Mrs. Watling, took her with us, went in the Christian Science Church (note: Florence Swaine was a Christian Scientist), through the Congressional Library, new Post Office and Station. Left Washington Friday, July 2nd at 12:30 p.m. (Note: the writer uses “a.m.” for any time before 1 p.m. This is changed for clarity.) Spent two nights there at Hotel Ulster corner of 19th and Corcoran Streets. Thursday July 1st. Visited the Capitol, White House, National Museum where we saw Roosevelt’s African Expedition specimens of animals. Went in the Smithsonian Museum, were taken around the Bureau of Printing and Engraving, seeing them making stamps and bills. Went in the Office Building of the Representatives. In the afternoon went out to Mount Vernon, saw house, tomb, kitchen, coach house, fine view. From there to Fort Meyer and Arlington Cemetery, Robert Lee’s old home. Drove around the Potomac River on way back. Beautiful.
Started for Atlantic City, July 2nd, passed through Baltimore, distinguished by its red brick houses with marble steps and blue shades. 11:20. Some of the party visited the market and purchased cherries. Went through Belair and Osborne. Had lunch at Havre De Grace, 10 cent sandwiches. Watermelon down by the river. Crossed Susquehanna river over long bridge, Toll $1.00. Beautiful view. Left 4:00 o’clock. Passed through Elkton, Md., Newark, Del. Arrived at Wilmington Del. at 6:00 o’clock, just in time to take the Ferry across Delaware River, arriving at Heon’s Grove at 6:40. Got 3 ½ miles out of the way just before reaching May’s Landing. Rode into Pleasantville at the rate of 61 miles an hour some of the way. Very exciting. Splendid roads. Had tire trouble at Pleasantville causing delay of ¾ hour. Reached Boardwalk Atlantic City at 11:00 p.m., where we stayed until 1:00 a.m. Spent the night at Majestic Hotel. Had supper (lobster) in restaurant on Boardwalk.

The car was run into at Atlantic City. Left Atlantic City July 3rd, at 2 p.m. had tire trouble on the way out. Speedometer registered 1429 miles. Spent the morning on Boardwalk. Mother, Florence Swaine and B. Smith rode in chair. Passed through avenue of trees to Hammonton. Arrived at Camden Ferry just in time to go right on over into Philadelphia. Policeman greeted us with “It’s a Long way to Tipperary” when he saw our Michigan License. Time 5:35 – 1490 miles. Rode around city, passed Independence Hall, Betsy Ross’ house, Franklin’s grave. Had tires mended. Hunted up Dudley’s friend. Michigan license caused considerable comment. Also damaged car. Spent the night at Continental Hotel. Had dinner at Automat. Retired at 12:30. Sunday, July 4th, breakfasted Roof Garden Hotel Continental, Philadelphia, left 9:50 a.m. Speedometer registered 1615 miles. Visited Navy Yards, saw battle ships – Massachusetts, Indiana, Alabama, Illinois, Cruiser Brooklyn, Collier Mars, Columbia, Hancock. Went through the South Dakota, the largest of those there. From there went out to Fairmont Park onto Wisenhicken Drive (very beautiful) (hills and valleys). 1:15 along Lincoln Highway through Germantown, Chestnut Hill, Willow Grove, beautiful homes and road. Doylestown 3:30 p.m. 1672 miles. Had orangeade, on through Lehigh Valley, into Easton, Delaware Valley, Blue Mountains, stopped at Kittakinnly Hotel while some got postcards. This is in the Delaware Water Gap, very beautiful.

Through Stroudsburg, Mount Pocono. Spent the night there at Mount Pleasant House, $12.00 for party of seven, wanted $5.00 to $7.00 for one. Had dinner there. Left July 5th, Monday morning at 6:40 – miles 1647. Arrived Wilkesbarre 8:30 through beautiful scenery, raining part of the way. Had breakfast at Wilkesbarre and tire fixed, leaving there at 12:00 noon. Sat on steps of house, helped string beans for lady, Mrs. Eddy. 1689 miles. Passed through Berwick, Bloomsburg, Danville, Milton, Williamsport, Newberg. Took haven into Bellefonte at 9:30 p.m. Polliceman spoke to us for not parking where we should. Grand Home Coming week, big celebration. Lady Bicycle rider on tightrope, husband walking upside down below her, fireworks streaming down. Very wonderful. Had supper there, sandwiches, etc. Arrived at Phillipsburg, Pa. Hotel Sheffer (nice place, good breakfast) at 12:45 over high mountains, fine drive but dangerous. Left at 8:30 a.m. July 6th – 1872 miles. Went through coal mine, owner or the man who leased it took us through. Very agreeable, fat mule Pat (pulled) the coal wagon. Through Clearfield town, policeman spoke to us for turning around in the middle of the block. Oil wells. From there through to Painsville into Cleveland, over unpaved roads and interurban car track. Reached Cleveland 11:45 Hotel Regent, supper at 12:00 -2127 miles. Left Cleveland Wednesday morning July 7th at 10:30 a.m. by boat. Ended trip by dinner at Library Park Hotel, Detroit, given by D. K. Smith. Number of miles by auto from Ypsilanti, 1603; from Detroit 1635. 125 gallons of gasoline. Cost: $17.72.

June 27, number of miles 209
June 28, number of miles 153
June 29, number of miles 192
June 30, number of miles 120
July 1, number of miles 66
July 2, number of miles 199
July 3, number of miles 86
July 4, number of miles 132
July 5, number of miles 228
July 6, number of miles 253
TOTAL MILES 1635

From the statistics above, it can be calculated that the cost of gas would have been about fourteen cents a gallon and that the travelers’ brand-new Paige would have averaged around 13 miles per gallon. Because seven people went along on this adventure, we can assume that they traveled in the seven-passenger Paige “Town Car,” which sold for a hefty $2,250. In advertisements for this six-cylinder car, the public would have been awed by references to its “Richelieu Blue” color, its wheels of a “deep rich red,” and a narrow bead of red that “added a touch of distinctive individuality to the front of the radiator.” Company literature stated: “The strikingly beautiful body design of the Six-46 is now set off with a painting finish so rich and lustrous that it is positively mirror-like. To secure this lasting brilliancy requires 24 days of painting and hand rubbing until it is ready for the final exquisite finish.”

The seven-passenger town car had an open driving compartment in front with room for just one passenger. The back section, which was enclosed, would hold three passengers on the seat and had two auxiliary folding chairs. The May 19, 1915 edition of “The Horseless Age” glorified this automobile by stating that the town car “is a vehicle of pleasure and utility for the folks whose social position in a community demands exclusiveness and the ownership of the finest equipage.” The article goes on to note that the “driving compartment” was upholstered in hand-buffed French glaze long grain leather of select quality.”

In the same article we read that there are two other color combinations available besides the one based on “Richelieu Blue,” which is described as royal blue. Another color for the body and running gear was “Brunswick Green.” This came with a black top and a gray Bedford cloth interior with a little green pattern on it. Still another color for the body of the car was “Battleship Gray.” This had a black top, a running gear painted “Cleveland Gray,” and a gray “Bedford cloth with a brown stripe” for the interior.

The Paige-Detroit Automobile Company announced its brand new six-cylinder Paige automobiles in the January, 1915 issue of the Saturday Evening Post, and the car was well received by a public interested in replacing their horses and buggies. One can only imagine the excitement and interest that our vacationing Swaine sisters and their friends created, when the Michigan license plates were seen on this brand-new touring car as far away as Atlantic City.

(Janice Anschuetz currently lives in the Swaine House that is located at 110 East Forest and is very interested in the history of the neighborhood.)

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: The Swaine horse and buggy with Jessie in the front with Florence sitting next to her mother Eliza. The name of the horse was Nellie and she lived to be 30 years old.

Photo 2: Part of the automobile trip party, in the boat on the way to Detroit from Cleveland. Florence is in the front row on the left next to Mrs. F. E. Smith. Jessie is on the far right.

Photo 3: On the first night of the trip the party stayed at the Regent Hotel in Cleveland, Ohio.

Photo 4: The party toured the Boardwalk in Atlantic City and stayed overnight at the Majestic Hotel.

Photo 5: The ad in the January, 1915, Saturday Evening Post for the Paige Automobile produced by the Paige-Detroit Motor Car Company.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2010,
Winter 2010

---

Original Images:

Winter 2010

Author: Florence Lizzie Swaine (c1905)

(Editor’ Note: The author of this article, Florence Lizzie Swaine (1875-1960) was born and died in Ypsilanti, Michigan.  She was the oldest daughter of Frederick and Eliza George Swaine.  Her father was not only a maltster, but a musician, actor, poet, photographer, politician and a very devoted and encouraging parent. Both of her parents immigrated from England to seek their fortunes in Ypsilanti where they met and married. Florence was born and grew up in the Swaine House at the corner of River & Forest Streets.  Both Florence and her younger sister Jessie were independent women, college educated, gardeners, enjoyed playing cards, interested in reading and writing, outgoing, and earned their living as dedicated teachers. This essay and photographs of the trip were donated to the Ypsilanti Historical Museum by the Swaine family and were found in the archives – a real treasure chest!

One of the pleasantest two weeks’ trips my friend and I have ever had and the cheapest, for the pleasure and beauty of scenery it afforded us, we took this summer among the mountains of Colorado.  The clear, dry, invigorating climate is a fine tonic; and the medicinal qualities of the water from the soda, iron, and sulfur springs at Manitou are excellent.  Whoever has tasted or felt the benefit of these delicious, effervescent waters, which are free to all, will always think of Manitou with much pleasure.

We started from Chicago at 6:00 p.m. and were due in Denver the next day at 8:30 p.m.  The weather was the hottest of the season but we met many pleasant people on the train; and having plenty to read, the time passed very quickly.  In Denver, we had a very pretty room in the central part of the city; and took our meals at cafes, where we found the cuisine excellent and the price moderate.  Having but two weeks for our holiday, we had only two days for this clean and charming city, including a trip around the Georgetown Loop.  We took two delightful rides on the observation cars; which are provided with a guide, who in an entertaining manner, points out places of interest.  One car goes around the residence portion of the city; the other, around the picturesque suburbs, showing a view of the distant snow covered mountains.  We went through the capitol building, in which is a collection of state minerals;  and through the U.S. Mint, where we lifted a brick of gold valued at $1,200; and saw the gold re-melted in hot furnaces and poured into waxed moulds to cool and harden.

Colorado is certainly an interesting country.  It is marvelous what the ingenuity of man has done in utilizing the wonderful works of nature, thereby making a barren wilderness into a fruitful country, giving homes for thousands and supplying the world with large quantities of gold and precious minerals.  If the progress of the last decade continues, what will be the future of this western country!  The mountain streams are caught in reservoirs, filtered and carried in troughs or ditches to wherever it is needed for irrigation.  Between the rows of grain and vegetables are small streams of water.  It is strange to see one side of the road barren; and the other, where irrigation is practiced, fertile.  The saying is that, “farmers used to plant rows of potatoes and onions alternately.  They watered the onions only, as the onions made the eyes of the potatoes water.”

Wishing to spend most of our time in the mountains, we went to Manitou, six miles from Colorado Springs.  We were delighted with this most beautiful spot.  The green trees, little gurgling brooks and waterfalls, mountains, canyons and valleys, pretty lawns and little parks all add to the charm of this delightful resort.  The red soil reminds one of the red man and his pipe stone.  The many legends and traditions of the Indian are brought to mind; although there are few, if any, of this interesting race in this village of “healing waters,” which they named in honor of Manitou, the Great Spirit.

This resort differs from Lucerne in Switzerland, although both places are equally attractive.  The Rockies are magnificent, the Alps, beautiful.  In Switzerland, one finds more snow, plenty of verdure, blue lakes, low floating clouds, and quaint villages. Here, one is alone with nature, surrounded with tremendous cliffs and grotesque rocks.  We boarded in such a pretty place, and met many pleasant people.  Although we walked a great deal, we were never too tired to enjoy a pleasant evening together.  What pleasures we had playing cards, singing, or sitting on the wide piazza telling stories.  There are plenty of amusements in Manitou; concerts, dances, bathing pools, potato roasts in the cliffs, and many beautiful walks and drives.

We walked through the Cheyenne canyons, and never had I beheld such magnificent works of nature.  The massive, richly colored rocks towering on both sides; and the rushing streams of water make one conscious of the frailty of man and the strength and greatness of his creator.  Above the Seven Falls, which rush down the rocks in seven leaps from a height of over two hundred feet, Helen Hunt Jackson was buried (Editor’s Note: Helen Hunt Jackson was a 19th Century author and supporter of rights for American Indians).

The scenery on the way to Cripple Creek, the greatest gold mining camp in the world, is grand.  The train stops for passengers to gather flowers and view the magnificent panorama of stupendous cliffs in fantastic and curious forms, rollicking falls, glistening lakes and rolling plains.

One day a merry party of us walked through the pass to the end of William’s Canyon with its mighty rocks and rushing water.  We ate our lunch by the side of a dear little stream in a grove of sweet scented pines; and spent the afternoon rambling among the trees, picking flowers and wild strawberries.  On our way home, from the top of one of the mountains, we had a most beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains, and let me say now, never were mountains more appropriately named.  Above all, loomed old Pike with its bald head and patches of snow.  On the plains in the distance, were the towering pinnacles and grotesque formations of rocks in the Garden of the Gods.

Of course we could not leave Colorado until we had been to the summit of the world renowned Pike’s Peak.  There is nothing I enjoy more than mountain climbing and money being an object with us, we were courageous enough to attempt this climb of 9 miles up 7,518 feet to an altitude of 14,147 feet.  We started in the afternoon and rested until dark at the Half Way House; then we climbed on, on, and on all night.  It was monotonous, but we were a jolly party and full of adventure.  It was quite romantic to eat our lunch in the dead of night by the side of a camp fire on the lonely mountain, with the lightening and thunder below us, the lights of cities beneath, the lights of heaven above.  We grew very tired and the hard climb seemed endless.  I thought of poor Christian’s hard journey to the Celestial City (Editor’s Note: A reference to the main character in Pilgrim’s Progress).  We reached the top at 2:00 p.m. and rested until the glorious sunset.  We descended the burro trail, going through Crystal Park.  We were like witches in appearance when we reached home, and the remark greeted us on all sides as we walked through the streets “They have been to the Peak.”  We answered “Pike’s Peak or bust”.

Above the timber line on Pike’s Peak, the fields are studded with dainty Alpine flowers among them the forget-me-not, which has a sweet perfume and is larger and of a deeper blue than it’s sister of the lower altitude.  The flowers of Colorado are so deep and rich in color.  There are fields of a brilliant blue flower like the deep blue of heaven to whose nearness it seems to cling as it soon dies in a lower altitude.  Then there are the lovely columbines, the state flower, in yellow, white and blue.

No visit to Colorado is complete without a ride on one of those obstinate little burros, who will do exactly as they please.  Space will not permit my speaking of all the delightful times we had, but to enjoy this sublime scenery one must see it oneself, and now let me say:

Sweet Canyon, All Hail! And Adieu!

My heart leaps with rejoicing to you.

Oh, cliffs towering up to the sky,

So rugged, and mighty and high,

Oh, dear little brook dancing on

O’er your wind-about pathway of stone,

Some day in the winter so blue

How my heart will leap yearning to you,

When I stumble along ‘neath the chill frown of fate

Which follows me early and follows me late,

And knock all in vain at the Muse’s locked gate,

Sweet Canyon, All Hail!  And Adieu!

(This article was submitted by Janice Anschuetz who currently lives in the Swaine House located at 101 East Forest Street.  Janice is very interested in the history of the neighborhood and is becoming a regular contributor to the Gleanings.)

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: Photograph of Florence Lizzie Swaine taken in 1902 when she was 27 years old.

Photo 2: This somewhat blurred photograph is believed to be of the group that traveled to Colorado in c1902.

Photo 3: Picture taken in front of Swaine House in c1890. Florence Lizzie Swaine is at the right in the middle row and Jessie Swaine, her sister, is at the right in the front row.

Photo 4: Florence Lizzie Swaine getting a pail of water from the outdoor pump.

Photo 5: One of the views in the Colorado Mountains seen by Florence Swaine and her group.

Photo 6: Florence Swaine and her group in the Colorado Mountains in their “hiking clothes.”alf Way House; then we climbed on, -HH

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Summer 2010,
Summer 2010

---

Original Images:

Author: George Ridenour

As the days become warm, green colors the dead trees of winter, my jacket comes off, and my mind begins to wander. My heart becomes mellow. My car turns from LeForge Road to West Clark Road. I stop for a few minutes at 415 West Clark Road. My God how many changes have occurred since I lived there from age 5-18, before leaving for a tour of duty in the U.S. Army?

Memories of days and years that passed so very quickly flood my mind like motion pictures. Days of youth gone by. This time of year along the dusty road I remember the beauty of wild blood root, violets, asparagus, Queen Ann’s lace, and purple or white lilac trees that filled the air with their sweet smells. Occasionally cars hummed by the front of our house and disappeared in the distance except in the time of “spring thaws” when they sometimes became stalled in axle deep mud. No, roads were not paved!

I remember the “question” from kids during school when they found out I lived on West Clark Road “…Oh, what is it like to live in the country?” The distance to the business center of Ypsilanti was only one and a half miles! Oh well, with only four nearby houses, a couple of farms and lots of vacant land I can see where they thought we were really “…out there?”

We even had our own baseball field! However, there was no back stop behind the catcher to stop missed balls and when a ball was hit into the corn field behind the outfield it was an automatic “home run.” During the fall of the year our side yard was transformed from a garden into a football arena! I still have the bruises to prove it.

We had an acre of garden too! We grew our own food which Mom canned, and we used a root cellar! We grew everything, well before the current local produce movement. With ten mouths to feed we needed to cut costs and it gave Dad something for us kids to do during the summer. I still remember carrying buckets of cow pies (yep, nice fresh cow pies) and scooping them into the dirt mounds where the cucumbers were planted. We had mighty big “cukes” all summer long!

Then there were the cows from the farm on LeForge Road that sometimes wandered down the lanes stretching all the way to Clark Road. We often played in the fields which surrounded the neighborhood being careful not to step in the cow pies. The cows loved that area. One time they even cornered me in a tree where I had to stay until my brother finally rescued me. I was the butt of jokes for weeks after that. The area included wild thistles with purple and yellow flowers, grass (which the cows helped mow!), trees, butterflies of all colors, birds of all kinds, frogs, turtles, and sledding sites for winter.

Through all this flowed this slow meandering “creek” which varied from ankle to shin deep. To this day I don’t remember finding the source of the creek. I do remember it flowed under Clark Road and into the fields, down past our house, and all the way to empty into the Huron River. It was a lifeline for nature, cows, and boys wanting adventure either in catching frogs, wading, maybe an occasional skinny dip, and ice skating rink (at the largest big enough for four people to skate single file). To us it was the best. Many a frog and butterfly were captured and studied. At night the darkened sky was lit with fireflies by the thousands and sounds of crickets and frogs filled the night air.

At our house I slept in a room with three brothers. In those days sharing a bed was common. I watched my four brothers grow, drive their first cars, complete school, marry, have children. Sometime later I would be an uncle to 22 nieces and nephews!

My mind comes into focus. I decide to try and look where I remembered the “headwater” for Sneak-a-Leak-Creek flowed. Today, there is housing, housing, and more housing. There are now over fifteen houses on West Clark Road. A patch of woods is where we had talks, and explored the attic of Gerald Everett. In the attic there were many papers, letters, and books. Gerald would tell us of relatives who studied Egyptian hieroglyphics and he gave me two letters from the early 1800’s which I have today. One letter tells of how it is thought that as one travels south “it gets warmer and warmer.” The Gerald Everett house is gone and a jungle of trees now invades the land where this home stood. Mr. Everett was a grand old man and often Mom would take him pies and holiday treats.

I drive down the road looking to find Sneak-a-Leak-Creek. Finally, after searching for some time with the sound of horns in the background, the wind rushing by, and avoiding countless speeding cars I see a place in the fence, pushed in, filled with branches and full of trash blown from the road. In a burst of reflected sunlight I see the slow meandering water of Sneak-a-Leak-Creek! I can only stare with disappointment and am overcome with disappointment that wells into a sigh. A jewel, a remembrance of days gone, boyhood adventurers where the creek, fields, and Highland cemetery provided relief from problems at home, adventures, an appreciation of the beauty of nature, and even today a love of water (from showers to oceans).

When I was young I could be anyone, anywhere, and live free! I could hide in and smell the earthiness of cornfields (no one could see me) or lie beside wheat and eat the kernels. I could gather shafts of straw, mix dishwashing soap and blow bubbles. I could sit on hot summer days, when allowed, and share washtubs with the other kids pretending it was a pool. To escape the heat we would sit under the weeping willow tree in the front yard.

Ok, you are probably wondering how did the creek (which really had no name that we ever knew) get the name Sneak-a-Leak-Creek? Well, like all good stories “You Decide.” Those fond memories filled with colors, smells, and adventures on the banks of “Sneak-a-Leak-Creek” will be with me forever.

(George Ridenour is an historian, researcher and volunteer in the YHS Archives and a regular contributor to the Gleanings.)

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: George Ridenour as he looked in his pre-teen years on West Clark Road.

Photo 2: Sneak-a-Leak-Creek can still be seen through the rusted fence along side of West Clark Road.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Summer 2010,
Summer 2010

---

Original Images:

Summer 2010

Author: Peg Porter

It started when a friend and I happened to be reminiscing. We both remembered a restaurant in a house just off Packard. The red brick house still stands. Neither of us could remember its name or much else. But the fact that we both remembered such a place was reassuring. My friend, Judy, was visiting with another Ypsilantian who thought the house/restaurant on Packard was named The Gables. As a result, it occurred to us that there were a number of restaurants in Ypsilanti over the years. There were “special occasion” restaurants (e.g. Mothers Day), date restaurants, Italian and Greek restaurants. Some were very small while others featured linen table cloths and napkins.

Now, dear readers, we ask your assistance in identifying the Lost Restaurants of Ypsilanti. What dining establishments do you remember? Where were they? Did you have a particular favorite on the menu? When, approximately, did they close? Please share any special memories. Would the restaurant do well in today’s Ypsilanti?

Running a restaurant is hard work and since eating out is more often a luxury than a necessity; the business is particularly vulnerable to changes in the economy. And yet, some of them live on in our memories. Please share your memories and stories. Let’s hear from former wait staff, cooks and owners as well.

We will report back in an upcoming issue. Bon Appétit!

(Send your recollections to Peg Porter, c/o Ypsilanti Historical Museum, or by email: margaret.porter@comcast.net. Mention “restaurant” in subject line. Responses requested by September 1, 2010.)

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, April 2002,
April 2002

---

Original Images:

Plans for “The Heritage Festival, 2002” are well underway with Betty Jones at the helm.

Betty, this year's Festival Chairwoman, has been meeting with the committee chairmen since early in January and is really doing a great job in this capacity.

Nathalie Edmunds, Festival Chairwoman for many years, is serving as the co-ordinator of the Huron Street activities and our Museum is high on her list of prominent sites.

The historical old house will be open to the public, free of charge, on all three days of the Festival, August 16, 17 and 18. Visitors will get a tour of the rooms and see the furnishings, utensils and personal items used by the residents of Ypsilanti in the 1800s.

Many docents, male ad female, are needed to guide our visitors through the Museum during the Festival. This is an opportunity to get better acquainted with the history of Ypsilanti, be of significant help to visitors during a two hour shift, and work in air-conditioned comfort. Very little training is needed. Each docent i provided with a “guide card” bearing the information about the area to which they've been assigned.

If you think you'd like to be a volunteer (and have a nice break from the August heat), please call Joan Carpenter … 971-0536. Your help will be greatly appreciated!

Rain on Monday means several rainy days that week.

If the sun sets clear on Tuesday, expect rain before Friday.

If it rains on the “first of the month,” most of the month will be wet.

Rain on the first Sunday of the month means rain on the three following Sundays

If dandelions bloom in April, expect a hot, wet July.

If the sun sets behind the clouds on Thursday, expect rain before Saturday.

A windstorm on New Year's Day means floods later in the year.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, November 1987,
November 1987

---

Original Images:

Author: Ann McCarthy

Director's Report
The Arts and Craft Demonstration held October 17th was a huge success. Eighty-five people signed the Guest book. We had 13 artisans, ranging from Bobbin Lace Making to Woodcarving. A delicious lunch, prepared by the members, was served.