Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings

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Original Images:

May 31, 1927, the last Ford Model T rolled off the assembly line. It was the first affordable automobile, due in part to the assembly line process developed by Henry Ford. It had a 2.9-liter, 20-horsepower engine and could travel at speeds up to 45 miles per hour. It had a 10-gallon fuel tank and could run on kerosene, petrol, or ethanol, but it couldn't drive uphill if the tank was low, because there was no fuel pump; people got around this design flaw by driving up hills in reverse.

Ford believed that "the man who will use his skill and constructive imagination to see how much he can give for a dollar, instead of how little he can give for a dollar, is bound to succeed." The Model T cost $850 in 1909, and as efficiency in production increased, the price dropped.

By 1927, you could get a Model T for $290.

"I will build a car for the great multitude," said Ford. "It will be large enough for the family, but small enough for the individual to run and care for. It will be constructed of the best materials, by the best men to be hired, after the simplest designs that modern engineering can devise. But it will be low in price [so] that no man making a good salary will be unable to own one - and enjoy with his family the blessing of hours of pleasure in God's great open spaces."

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2012,
Winter 2012

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Original Images:

Author: Tom Dodd

Historical fiction based on actual mid-century events

Frankie hurried home from school on Friday to get the lawn mowed as quickly as possible. Dad said this would be a “boys’ night out,” an excursion unlike anything they had ever done before. Big Frankie worked at the Ypsi Ford plant and Little Frankie, 12, could count on one hand the men-only excursions they had shared: pheasant hunting, a Tiger baseball game, and a trip to the Auto Show at Detroit’s Convention Hall. Other family events had four Fords in attendance: Frankie, Dad, Mom and little sister Ellie.

Frankie was Franklin Roosevelt Ford and that was probably the least of his problems. He may have been “Little Frankie,” but was not “Junior.” Francis Robert Ford was called Frank or Big Frankie. Frankie and Eleanor were named for the White House occupants and, although no one in the Ford family was related to the famous Henry, it was a good name to drop when you “worked to Ford’s.” Some said that Henry Ford was not compatible with Franklin Roosevelt, but Frankie did not understand what that was all about.

The Frank Ford family often referred to their “Ford Family of Fine Cars.” Frank had been driving his 1937 Ford Tudor since before the war and was sure that, when he turned it in on a new one at war’s end, he would recoup his original seven hundred dollar investment.

A continual family rift was over the fact that Ypsi was a “Ford Town” and all Big Frankie’s siblings worked for General Motors. The contrast always gave his Oakland County brothers something to argue about.

Now, Frankie’s dad had announced he was taking his son up to Pontiac to see the famed “GM Parade of Progress.” Perhaps this enthusiastic public relations promotion of General Motors’ might help to ameliorate future family squabbles. “The Future” was certainly the theme for the day.

The passing parade:
Frankie carefully guided the lawnmower while ruminating on facts he had gleaned from newspaper stories and, in particular, a well-worn copy of Popular Mechanics magazine. GM’s “Parade” had started long before Frankie’s birth. By the time Pearl Harbor was attacked, more than 12 million people had seen it. The “Parade” was warehoused during the war and was now rehabilitated and on the road again. Company loyalties and family rivalry notwithstanding, Frankie’s Dad was eager to see the “Parade” for the first time since rumors hinted it might not continue much longer.

The traveling exhibition of technology was the brainchild of Charles F. Kettering. “Boss Ket” pulled in famed auto designer Harley Earl to add visual hyperbole to his inventions of the commercial electric self-starter, Ethyl gasoline, the diesel-electrical locomotive, and more auto exotica. “You’ve got to be modernistic” seemed to be the theme of his techno-Chautauqua-on-wheels as it snaked its way across the country for nearly twenty years and both Frank Fords were eager to get on board.

Now in its third exhibition format, the 1936 “Parade” had included nine GMC and Chevrolet tractor-trailers hauling gear, tents, power generators, lamps, booths, and additional exhibits. The caravan used a stretched, air-conditioned 1936 Chevy “command car” serving as a mobile office and general field headquarters. All six GM lines––Chevrolet, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, Buick, LaSalle, and Cadillac––had models in the display and were traded in every 2000 miles at local dealerships along the way.

Although Big Frankie would never admit it, GM’s big PR project greatly overshadowed and drew more fans than the annual Christmas exhibit at the Ford Rotunda in Dearborn.

Post-war cars identified:
Finished with his mowing, Frankie listened for Big Frankie’s arrival from the factory on Ford Lake. He could hear the old Ford coming from a block away and knew dad would be on edge about the evening’s plans. They were going to Oakland County to stand in the heart of “enemy territory.” Frankie knew this would be difficult for dad, and wondered if there might be other motivations at foot. “You know your dad will want to talk about how the new Fords are better than what’s made up in Pontiac,” Mom said. “Try not to get them going on that.” Most of Little Frankie’s uncles started out working in Pontiac’s Oakland Auto plant right out of––or in place of––high school, and they knew that Big Frankie was a “Ford Guy” from Ypsi.

“Big Frankie works to Ford’s,” they would say in their charming never-been-much-for-school regional accents. Still, they shared one bit of automobile culture as a family trait; they loved to sit on the front porch and watch the new cars drive by. Every car had it’s own distinct styling and personality. “Desoto!” uncle Russell would shout. “Frazer!, ah, maybe a Kaiser,” pondered uncle Charlie. “Hudson and Packard!” uncle Allan hollered, as he spotted two big sedans humming down Prospect Street together. “Here comes the new Pontiac! Ain’t she a beauty?” someone would proffer, and there was great agreement among those in attendance that this GM sedan was the most gorgeous thing on four wheels. “I don’t know what they’re thinking in the front office,” someone would suggest. “Why would anyone ever want to trade in a car like that? It’s perfect just the way it is. You’d want to keep it forever.”

“I wonder who’s the genius that decided to paint that big zig-zag on the side of the Olds Ninety-Eight?” he would rant. “It looks like it’s going backwards! Don’t those college boys know anything about streamlining?

No one, of course, liked the radical design of the recent Studebakers. “You can’t tell if they’re coming or going,” they said. And the whole family would shake their heads and scowl at this non-GM creation.

Big Frankie would stifle himself on this special day just to keep peace in the family. Uncle Charlie had sent two tickets to the GM “Parade of Progress” to be displayed in the employee parking lot of the Pontiac Motor factory. Little Frankie knew the family get-together was far less important to him than seeing “Futurama,” but he would try hard to fake familial enthusiasm once they got to Uncle Charlie’s.

Getting gassed up along the old Indian trail:
Big Frankie pulled into the gravel driveway and started issuing orders: “You put Mom’s big lunch box in the back seat while I wash up and change my clothes. We’re going up Pontiac Trail and I just hope we have enough gas for the trip.” As Frankie packed, he realized he wouldn’t be sitting in back with little Ellie this time. There would not be any admonishment to “sit back in your seat or I’ll give you a swat!” For this trip, Frankie got to sit in Mom’s seat next to the driver. There would be no charges of “He’s sitting on my side” or “He’s crossing the line in the middle of the seat” on this trip. Frankie only wondered if he would be called upon to light Dad’s cigarettes for him en route.

“Now, don’t you be makin’ a lot of side trips or unscheduled stops,” Mom warned Big Frankie as he squeezed himself into the driver’s seat. “I want you boys back home and in bed at a decent hour,” she warned. “No, Mother,” he said, with an exasperated look. Frank was thinking of having to stop for repairs along the way. They might need a new fan belt, but Frank was sure they had enough gas for the trip. “We should be back well before bedtime.”

The two Franks opened all the car windows and the hood-mounted vent for more fresh air on this late-summer’s drive. Dad even put out his cigarette so they could angle the front vent windows and have the wind blow in their faces. This had to be even better than riding in a convertible, they concluded.

The Ford family knew the filling stations along this route too well. Dad avoided the one in downtown South Lyon that had too many tractors parked around the pumps, so Wixom’s Pure station was their next chance where they could get a bottle of Nesbitt’s Orange pop to share.

The next possible stop was Harvey Segnitz’s Nondenominational Gas Company in downtown Walled Lake. Harvey had his own gas hauler, making him a true independent operator. Sure, sometimes Harvey didn’t have ANY gas, but the price seemed to make it worth t stopped there since they prohibited his smoking at the gas pumps. The dirt in front of Rae’s had absorbed so much gas and oil over the years that it was an incendiary bomb just waiting to be ignited. Frank said he didn’t need to be treated like a child; he had been lighting up since he was twelve and he knew how to do it right. Frank was a self-made man, having learned to smoke all by himself.

Their last possible stop was just after Keego Harbor at the edge of the industrial metropolis. Cities Service had opened an ultra-modern all-service filling station on what was formerly the parking lot next to the Elks’ Temple, the site of the former Elk’s Carnival where most local teens saw their first almost-naked lady in the notorious burlesque tent. In an effort toward mondernization, the sawdust and weeds were replaced by four rows of electric gas pumps, covered with a single roof of fluorescent lights illuminating the entire space as bright as mid-day. This modern gas was more expensive and Big Frankie stopped here only if his gauge was touching “empty.”

Big Frankie breezed past them all and turned left at Saginaw Street to head north on the Dixie Highway. “If we went the other way,” Big Frankie said, “we could go all the way to Florida. Boy, what would your mom think of that, huh?” But we would have to find new filling stations, Frankie thought.

Chief Pontiac’s territory:
The next turn was onto Baldwin and, after just a few blocks, Little Frankie could see the smokestacks of the Pontiac plant. There it was: GM’s “Parade of Progress,” just like he had seen on the cover of Popular Mechanics.

Frankie’s dad drove right past the main entry, sticking his arm out the window to signal a right turn onto Uncle Charlie’s Ascot street. “We’ll have to park at Charlie’s house,” Big Frankie warned. “Otherwise we might get ‘keyed’.” Little Frankie knew the tradition. The talk in Ypsi was, if you didn’t drive the kind of car you were helping to build, your ‘foreign’ model could get scratched by car keys the full length of the sheet metal from front to back.

Uncle Charlie, Aunt Roxie, and Cousin Jimmy were waiting on their front porch. Uncle Charlie got the tickets because he worked at Pontiac Motor and that was particularly puzzling to Little Frankie, since he always seemed so unhappy in his work. Big Frankie’s older brother had been a tool and die maker for more than twenty years and he constantly complained about the company’s management. If he wasn’t happy about a shift change, he was mad about the changeover schedule. And, if employee policy wasn’t the focus of his rage against the company, he was always ready to criticize the designers who decided which way to divide the two-tone paint jobs that year.

Little Frankie declined to respond to the usual “you’re getting as tall as your daddy––they won’t be calling you ‘Little Frankie’ much longer.” The only thing Little Frankie wanted to see was the “Futurliners” that were parked in the big lot at the end of the street.

At long last, the family moved to the sidewalk and started toward the plant. Little Frankie and Cousin Jimmy were at the front of the parade and the first to see the GM exhibit.

Monster trucks congregate:
From outside the exhibition grounds, the noble “Futurliners” resembled a herd of mechanical bison grazing on asphalt. Frankie was in love!

Long red, white, and silver banners waved from tall poles installed along the chain link fence guiding a steadily moving crowd toward the entrance. Even at that distance, Frankie could see that GM’s college boys had not parked the “Futurliners” side-by-side as seen in previews but had formed a large semi-circle of ten of the big trucks opening to the front of the assembly plant. The self-contained exhibits opened toward the factory and the telescoping tent truck was lost somewhere inside the Aer-O-Dome tent it had morphed into. Frankie wondered about the twelfth “Futurliner” described in press releases but figured it was either off on an errand or he might have counted wrong.

The “Futurliners” did not disappoint. The white-graveled grounds were spotlessly clean, and the afternoon sun was casting a golden glow on the big silver “GM” plaques. This was a magical day even if your name was “Ford.” New exhibits in this third iteration of the GM “Parade” included jet propulsion, the atmosphere, the atom, stereophonic sound, and metal-powder forming, along with rehabilitated exhibits from previous years. There were many aluminum, chrome, and glass mechanical presentations to be seen.

With all the attention given to the exhibits folding out of the futuristic haulers, Frankie found his attention drawn mostly to the haulers themselves. For one thing, they were bigger and brighter than he had expected from the magazine photos.

GM Truck and Fisher Coach and Body had built twelve of these models in 1940, then overhauled them in 1953. They stood 11 feet, 7 inches high and were 8 feet wide. From his seat in the top, the driver must have blinked more than once when approaching an overpass. Each unit weighed 30,000 pounds and carried 90 gallons of gasoline, with a top speed of 40 miles per hour. No mention was made of gas mileage.

But Frankie didn’t care for any of those statistics. It was the exterior design that fascinated him. “Why, you could live in that thing,” he would later tell his buddies back in Ypsi. “Just cut a few portholes into the side and you’d have the coolest wheels around. And the driver’s seat is way up on top, right in the middle. There are two passenger seats behind it.” All the questions he harbored from the magazine story were now answered by his in-person examination.

The entry doors were hidden in the front corners next to the headlights, he discovered. And there were four wheels in front and four in back - all with the biggest white-wall tires he had ever seen. Frankie paced-off the length of one of the “liners” and figured he had gotten his money’s worth out of those free tickets to the future.

The Big Talk:
On the way home, Frankie was beginning to nod off to sleep when he felt the Ford pull over to the side of the road near New Hudson. Frankie wondered if this might be the car-trouble they had worried about. Big Frankie turned to his sleepy son with a serious expression and said, “Frankie, I just want take this time for us to have a little conversation between father and son.”

Oh, oh, thought Frankie. This must be The Big Talk he had heard about from his buddies in the neighborhood. “Son,” Big Frankie said, “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought lately, and I just want you to know what I think is best for your future...” Little Frankie stared through the windshield withe risk of running dry.

At the end of Pontiac Trail at Orchard Lake Road was George Rea’s Standard Service, but Big Frankie had not a look of equally serious consternation. “Sure, Dad? What is it?” “Frankie,” Dad said, “I want you to consider going into ENGINEERING.”

Where are they now?
Sixty years later, Frankie saw a forlorn “Futurliner” #10 rusting away behind the Auburn/Cord/Duesenberg Museum in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Since then, it has been sold and moved back to Michigan. The restoration took place in Zeeland, Michigan over six years and thousands of working-hours. Wyrick Co., along with Montana Paints, matched the original colors and provided the paint and supplies to get the vehicle back into its finest orignal form. Today, “Futurliner” #10 can be seen traveling to car shows all around the country.

When GM shut down their “Parade” in 1956, two “Futurliners” went to the Michigan State Police to be [continued overleaf] called “Safetyliners.” One was purchased by Oral Roberts for his evangelical crusades and is now suspected to be in Central or South America.

According to auto historians, nine “Futurliners” have been found and documented with history. Of the 12, one was wrecked (considered totaled) during the 1956 parade year and was not replaced. “Futurliner” #11 sold for a record US $4 million (plus premium) in January 2006 at a Barrett-Jackson auction in Arizona. Too large to ship, it was driven to its new home in Chandler.

“Futurliner” #10 is believed to be the most accurately restored of all of the originals.

In the summer of 2008, “Futurliner” #8 was delivered to its new home in Sweden where the new owner plans to restore it over a 10-year period. It’s the first and only “Futurliner” in Europe.

Of the other six known surviving “Futurliners,” one is used as a motor home and another in advertising. Two “liners” are in process of restoration in Maine and California. Another in California is for sale in original condition. Two are diagnosed as beyond restoration and in storage. There are still two “Futurliners” unaccounted for.

Big Frankie is gone now but, if he could see his son’s drawings of the “Futurliners,” he’d probably be quite proud of his son, the cartoonist. Little Frankie never became an engineer.

[Tom Dodd is a frequent contributor to the GLEANINGS. He grew up in Oakland County, but now lives in Ypsilanti and drives Fords. All the aunts and uncles in the story are real; most of the “Frankies” were Oakland County cousins and some of them became engineers.]

SIDEBAR:

GM 1953 press release
(To be read in the stentorian tones
of radio announcer Lowell Thomas)

General Motors’ Parade of Progress is on the road again dramatizing the vital role of science in American life ... “presenting,” as Harlow H. Curtice, president of General Motors put it, “a picture of America on the move toward better lives for all of us.”

The new and exciting 1953 version of the Parade is an ultra-modern presentation, high-lighting the enormous progress the country has made in recent years. Visitors, for example, will hear the scratchy reception of the radio of 1925 as compared to modern high-fidelity microwave transmission - will watch a tiny jet plane swoosh across the stage and take a fanciful flight into outer space.

Most of the Parade’s exhibits are contained in the 12 “Futurliners.” These special, 33-foot long, streamlined coaches have 16-foot side panels that open to form stages and exhibit areas. The Futurliners contain some two dozen major exhibits. They range from a demonstration that covers refrigeration and insulation, to “Power for the Air Age,” the jet engine story.

The Parade’s stage show is presented in the aluminum and canvas Aerodome. Here is presented a show of achievements in such fields as electronics, aviation and chemistry. And it’s all free - no admission charge.

A crew of about 60 men, mostly young college graduates, operates the Parade. The men not only are lecturers and showmen; they also drive the vehicles, put up the tents and do the other necessary jobs.

The history of the Parade goes back to 1936. Sparked by GM’s famed scientist, Charles F. Kettering, the Parade took to the road in Miami, FL, and from then until Pearl Harbor in 1941, it played before more than 12-1/2 million people in 251 cities. It is planned to keep the new Parade rolling across the U.S. almost continuously all year long.

Photo Captions:

1. Local lore has it that the Ford family rented this house on Ford Boulevard to be near the Ford factory

2. 1937 Ford Tudor

3. 1953 Parade of Progress rolls past GM’s world headquarters in Detroit

4. ‘50s Studebaker Champion’s rear windsheld. The car’s front design was more “rocket-like”

5. 1937 Ford Tudor interior amenities
1. open vent window
2. windshield wiper
3. optional clock & radio
4. gear shift
5. compartment for gloves
6. window crank
7. door handle
8. door lock

6. Harvey Segnitz’s Nondenominational Filling Station in Walled Lake

7. From the family album, 1920 - when we were still Mennonites
Left to right: Grandpa Ford, Uncle Russell, Uncle Clare, Grandma Yoder Ford, Aunt Roxie, Aunt Vera, Francis (Big Frankie), Uncle Freddie, Uncle Alan, Great-Aunt Mary Yoder who was never married or anything

8. Aer-O-Dome tent show with “Futurliners” rampant

9. A thoroughly modern 1953 GM “Futurliner”

10. MSP’s “Safetyliners”

11. Oral Roberts’ “Cathedraliner”

12. #10 before resto in Ft. Wayne, IN museum lot

13. #10 restored and wide open

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2012,
Fall 2012

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Original Images:

Author: Wystan Stevens

A remarkable accomplishment in bridge and track construction has just been completed at Ypsilanti on our Detroit, Jackson & Chicago railway. In less than 120 hours a railroad bridge was built over the Huron River, and approximately 2,776 feet, or about eight blocks of track constructed and cars operated over the new span, re-establishing service between Detroit and Jackson, which was temporarily suspended because of the unsafeness of the concrete structure over the Huron River on Michigan avenue.

This bridge formerly served to accommodate both vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Due to recent floods the west abutment was undermined and washed away, thereby leaving it unsafe to carry the loads of our large type interurban cars.

Immediately after this bridge was pronounced unsafe by a bridge engineer of repute, steps were taken to detour to the south with tracks which also necessitated the construction of a new bridge. One might, from the very short time that was consumed in the construction of the bridge, form the opinion that it is a makeshift of the pontoon type; but the substantial character of the bridge is vividly shown by the photo which was taken the last few minutes that the Track Department bridge crews were engaged in putting on the finishing details. At the point where the new structure is built the Huron river is approximately 135 feet wide, which makes the bridge structure about 150 feet in length.

There were day and night forces of bridgemen engaged in this work; the night force being aided greatly by the use of several carbide lamps and clusters of electric lights, which attracted large crowds of curious spectators each night to the scene. The crews worked in 12-hour shifts, and the pile-driver that was utilized in driving the piles never ceased operating from the time the first pile was driven on Sunday night until the last pile was driven on the opposite side of the river, on Wednesday morning.

In laying the tracks on River, Race, Catherine and Washington streets several pieces of special work were required, which were fabricated in our shop, and delivered on the ground ready for installation within 30 hours after the order was given to the shop. A considerable amount of grading was necessary to carry the tracks on the proper level through the low lands adjacent to the river and south of Michigan avenue, where the branch-off was made from the main line.

There were approximately 100 men engaged each twenty-four-hour day in the work of constructing tracks and bridge. Nearly all of the material that was used in the laying of tracks and building of the bridge had to be loaded on flat cars at Detroit and hauled to Ypsilanti, a distance of thirty miles.

The Overhead Department set a new pole line and trolley for the entire new route in a very expeditious manner. The necessary signals were installed, and a derailer placed before the first regular car operated over the bridge. The entire work was completed so that the first regular passenger car operated over the new route at 2:36 p.m. Friday, April 12th.

The bridgemen, trackmen, linemen, and all others who had anything to do with the work are deserving of much credit for the never-tiring manner in which they labored until the work was successfully completed.

Until the new bridge was completed we experienced considerable trouble in handling freight shipments for points west of Ypsilanti. Such shipments had to be transported across the old bridge by wagon and loaded onto freight cars. Now that the new bridge is in use through freight can be handled and rapid, excellent service again given to shippers.

Photo captions:

1. Ypsilanti’s new 120-day bridge in 1918

2. Buddy L. Toy railroad pile driver

3. Pile driver with crane

4. Pile driver in winter

5. Circa 1890 pile driver

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Winter 2011,
Winter 2011

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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

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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

Ypsilanti is a city with character; some say this is because it is a city full of characters. Be that as it may, one such character from the past was Wilber “Keep Smiling” Brown, who was one of the best known of local characters. When in the early 20th century ill-health forced Brown to give up physical work, he found another way to support himself, his wife and four children. He became an expert weaver of cane, rush and splint for furniture, as well as a grinder of knives, saws, scissors, and a repairer of household utensils and umbrellas. “He deliberately made himself a character to attract business, letting his hair grow to shoulder length, wearing a derby with a jaunty red feather and getting about in unusual vehicles,” wrote Cyrd E. Lamb for a profile published by The Detroit News Pictorial of May 25, 1940.

He made two vehicles; one was a covered wagon with his traveling workshop in the rear. In the back of the wagon was a small gasoline motor to power his grinding wheels. To travel the city streets, Brown used an unusual source of power to propel his wagon. At first he used Shetland ponies, and then switched to Rocky Mountain burros and finally four goats. To carry his business to the surrounding country and towns, he placed his goats in the back seat of an old car which pulled his wagon.

Brown loved to give rides to children, and had made a phaeton, a light four-wheeled horse-drawn (or in this case goat-drawn) vehicle, with two facing seats. Brown had woven the seats himself from wicker materials. The pneumatic wheels came from an auto junk yard. He used this to add to his income by taking children for rides at reunions, homecomings, and other public gatherings.

“He early adopted the motto, ‘Keep Smiling,’ and made it so well known it became his nickname,” wrote Lamb. “He had himself listed in the telephone directory as A. F. Smiling Brown.”

Brown was the subject of a second profile in The Detroit News Pictorial on August 5, 1945. Brown died on February 2, 1959.

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

PHOTO CAPTIONS:

Photo 1: “Keep Smiling” Brown in the goat-drawn cart with a load of children

Photo 2: “Keep Smiling” Brown’s cart and Rocky Mountain burros in 1919

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Summer 2011,
Summer 2011

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Original Images:

Author: James Mannn

A missing child is cause for concern and fear for the child’s well being. This was the case in April of 1936, when Sarah Santure left her home and seemed to disappear.

Sarah Santure, who was then 13 years of age, left her home at 2626 East Michigan Avenue on Tuesday, April 21, 1936 after an argument with an older sister. The family thought she left to visit relatives in Detroit, but began to worry when she failed to arrive.

“We are heart broken,” said her mother Gertrude Curtis. “When Sarah packed a dress and other belongings in a bad mood Tuesday and started away, we thought she was joking. Now we are greatly alarmed for her safety and hope for her early return.”

She had made threats in the past to run away and sometimes would say to her mother, “What would you do if I went off and never came back?” Once, when the family still lived in Belleville she had left for a few hours. The family had reason to believe Sarah was playing a joke on this day, as this was the birthday of her favorite stepbrother, Clayton Curtis. The birthday cake was ready for dinner that night.

“There are nine in the Curtis family and the income is inadequate to dress the children well and furnish the schoolbooks needed. They came from Belleville last November and of late the stepfather, Hammond Curtis has worked in an Ypsilanti factory and Mrs. Curtis in one in Ann Arbor. Sarah has a sister Phyllis two years older than herself and a younger brother. The other four children are her stepbrothers and sisters. Phyllis takes care of them all day while the parents are at work,” reported The Ypsilanti Daily Press of Friday, April 24, 1936.

“Although there is the usual teasing and joking natural to a large family,” continued the account, “and something of the kind was indulged in Tuesday, it is not ill natured, and the neighbors speak with commendation of the kindness that obtains in the family. The parents do not punish the children, and there is a lack of quarreling or disputing among them.”

“When Sarah left her home Tuesday,” the account continued, “she was carrying a dress and a manicure set in a bag. The family of children were watching her and called out to her to come back, and her brother says she was thumbing her way. A car stopped and took her in.”

Sarah’s acceptance of the ride must have come as a surprise to the family, as she was described by neighbors as so shy she would never accept rides and so timid with strangers she was reluctant to be at home alone.

Sarah was described as five feet, three inches tall, weighing between 125 and 130 pounds, and dressed in a red coat with black fur trimming, wearing a yellow and brown plaid dress. She was said to have been an unusually attractive child with a clear white complexion, golden brown curly hair worn in a long bob and having striking blue-grey eyes with long lashes. Sarah also had two slightly protruding teeth which was noticeable only on close scrutiny.

On Friday May 1, 1936 The Ypsilanti Daily Press reported that Sarah had been seen near Ypsilanti the previous Tuesday, at a gasoline station operated by George R. Wood on East Michigan Avenue, seven miles east of Ypsilanti.

“The girl was identified through a picture appearing in Thursday night’s Ypsilanti Press, by Mrs. George Wood, who stated the girl stopped and asked for work. She was wearing a black velvet tam, red coat and blue shift, had brown hair and blue eyes, and was carrying a paper bag containing a dress. This partially answers the description issued when the girl first disappeared.”

Another report placed Sarah with a group of transient peddlers who had been operating a rug selling racket in the vicinity for several weeks. Sarah returned home on Tuesday, May 5, 1936, safe and sound. “The girl said she had obtained employment in the home of a Detroit patrolman,” reported The Ypsilanti Daily Press of the same day, “and her identity was not discovered until he read her description in a newspaper. On questioning, Sarah said, she admitted her identity and he arranged transportation to her home here.”

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

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Spring 2011,
Spring 2011

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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

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Original Images:

Winter 2010

Author: James Mann

Children are told not to talk to strangers, and someone should have said this to Mary Lewardowski, who was nine years old in 1920.   On Wednesday, August 4th of that year, Mary was playing in the street near her home in Detroit, when a strange man asked if she would like a car ride.  The car in this case was the Interurban, a street railway or street car line.  Mary said she would like a ride, and the two boarded a car together.  Once on the car Mary fell asleep.  The man got off the car, leaving Mary behind.  The car ended its run at Ypsilanti at one o’clock in the morning of Thursday, August 5, 1920.

“Homer Smith found Mary last night, questioned her and then took her to the city hall, where she slept in the detention room overnight,” reported The Daily Ypsilanti Press of Thursday, August 5, 1920. According to the report, Ypsilanti Chief of Police John Connors questioned the girl that morning.  In the course of his career, Chief Connors had heard many strange stories, but the story Mary told may have been one of the strangest.

Mary said her mother had died long before, leaving her father with six children.  She said her father gave all of the children away.  Her father, she said, was in prison and had been for two years for breaking windows.  Mary said she lived with a man named John Kasidlo on Proctor Street in Detroit.  Kasidlo, said Mary, had sold all of his furniture and had moved away.

Mary said she had an older sister named Sophia, about 16 years of age, who was accused of stealing $10 and was sent to the reform school for girls at Adrian.  Another sister, she said, lived in Hamtramck.  She said she did not know where the other children were and did not know their names.

“Mary can write and is an unusually bright and intelligent looking little girl, with golden hair and blue eyes.  She carried a pair of roller skates, which she guarded carefully,” noted The Ypsilanti Record of Thursday, August 5, 1920. “Mary is as bright as they make them.  When she is washed and properly dressed, she might be turned into a Polish beauty,” observed The Daily Ypsilanti Press.

She was taken to the health cottage on Perrin Street where Miss Sperry, the community nurse, took care of her.  Chief Connors notified the juvenile court in Detroit, and was told an officer would be sent for her.  It would be up to the authorities in Detroit to determine the truth of Mary’s story.

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

Photo Captions:

Photo 1: In 1920, Mary Lewardowski, a nine year old from Detroit, rode an Interurban car like this to Ypsilanti.

Published In:
Ypsilanti Gleanings, Fall 2009,
Fall 2009

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Original Images:

Author: James Mann

A bridge is built to aid the traveler, to smooth the path and remove obstacles that would otherwise cause delay and make the journey longer. For this reason bridges are built over highways, valleys and rivers. So it is something of a surprise to learn there is a bridge under the waters of Ford Lake.

This bridge was built over the Huron River at Tuttle Hill Road before there was a Ford Lake. The bridge was built in the summer of 1885 on what was then one of the most traveled roads leading to Ypsilanti. This was an iron suspension bridge with trestle work that was built by the Massillon Bridge Company of Toledo, Ohio. The bridge had a single spine resting on stone abutments and was 110 feet long and 16 feet wide.

“The abutment on the south side is completed. It is 18 feet high, the face 20 feet wide with wings at an angle to confine the filling, 8 feet thick at the bottom and 5 feet at the top. The mason work was done by A. Norton, his son Charles, and Wm. Collen, all of Ypsilanti. The base of the abutment is about three feet below the bed of the river and rests on gravel. The abutments on the north side will be duplicates of the one described, excepting that the base will be but six feet thick; it not being required of the other.” reported The Ypsilanti Commercial of August 22, 1885.

At first the abutments were to have been built of limestone from Dundee, but the cost of the freight proved too high, so sandstone was obtained from Stony Point, Ohio, at a better rate. These stones proved to be larger and filled the need better.

“Mr. Chas. Clow draws the stone to the bridge,” continued the account. “Messrs H. Ruthruff and E. L. Brown have taken the job of filling in on both sides. The earth is to be taken from the top of the hill and placing in on the road killing two birds with one stone. It is hard clay soil and dynamite is used to loosen it.”

“Town Clerk Alonzo Ford with his team of bays has been kept busy handling stone for the masons, etc. He is a practical me- chanic in bridge building. He will see that the wood work required is up to the stan- dard. The Highway Commissioner has expended the money with care, making every dollar count, so that the appropria- tion and cost of bridge complete will not vary materially.”

“The Stockdale engine,” concluded the account, “is busy threshing and an engine owned by Mr. D. A. Jones of this city, and run by his son Harry is pumping water day and night trying to keep the masons dry.” The bridge was expected to be completed by October 1, 1885, and cost about $4,000. The iron frame of the bridge cost about $1,700.

The bridge remained in use until the 1930’s, when a dam was built on the Huron River to provide hydroelectric power to a factory of the Ford Motor Company. The water of the Huron River backed up behind the dam flooding the valley and covering the bridge. For a few years the trestle work could be seen rising out of the lake. In time the winter ice pushed the bridge over onto its side, and it disappeared under the water. There it rests to this day.

For a time it appeared the bridge would be raised above the waters of Ford Lake, and once again put into use. This was in the summer of 1996, when there was talk of lifting the bridge out of the water, restoring it, and set it in place as part of the park system around the lake.

That summer members of the Washtenaw County Sheriff’s dive team, with personnel from the University of Michigan, Department of Naval Architecture, examined the bridge to determine if it could be salvaged and placed in a new location. The bridge was found in 25 feet of water about 50 yards from shore. A remote controlled submarine, called M-Rover, was used to videotape the bridge. The bridge appeared to be in good shape. Grant money for the project was not forthcoming, so the bridge remains under water.

Photo caption: The Tuttle Bridge as it appeared prior to the existence of Ford Lake.

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