Circus Man

Monday, August 25, 2014

Andy McDonald was a showman.  He made his living as an Ahnepee storekeeper for a few years but show business was his true calling.  Local newspaper advertisements list Andy, in 1870, in the Ahnepee Dramatic Club, acting in plays at the Opera House.  As the troupe manager, Andy often performed on stage as one of his favorite characters.  

Andrew McDonald had big dreams.  He left home and the Ahnepee stage and moved to Chicago.  Andy McDonald ran away to join the circus. 

One of Andrew’s earliest forays into the world of the circus was a job as traveling agent for “Yankee” Robinson’s midwest circus.  Fayette Loadwick “Yankee” Robinson’s circus had a forty horse “Golden Swan Chariot”.  Robinson rode astride a speckled horse carrying a gold-headed cane in a mile long procession.  Robinson’s circus had a camel and a small elephant that showed “great agility” and some twenty cages in its menagerie.  During the circus season, in Chicago, huge crowds would fill the circus tents on the Lake Shore at Randolf Street. 

In the 1870s, the circus was by far the most popular form of entertainment in America.  “P. T.”  Phineas Taylor Barnum and James Anthony Bailey, ringmaster, were the best known names in the circus world.  Barnum was actually a museum owner and never owned a circus of his own.  He worked with many co-owners and marketed and produced the most popular circuses. 

Barnum was persuaded by a man named Dan Costello to use Barnum’s name for Costello’s circus.  Costello (or Castello) had earned a reputation as a dancing clown and was at one time a partner of Yankee Robinson.  Barnum and Costello formed a traveling combination show that was part museum, part animal exhibition, and part human oddities show (later known as the sideshow).  Andy McDonald became assistant manager of Barnum and Costello’s Great Combination Show.   

In 1871, the “Green Bay Advocate” newspaper mentioned that Andrew McDonald had been hired to travel in advance of Barnum’s Great Show.  He was to make arrangements for its advertising and movement.

     

As the advance man, Andy McDonald would come to town before the circus to distribute billboards and other advertising, to hang banners, and to publicize the show.  He would check on contracts, arrange for feed for the circus animals, and confirm all of the other details of running an involved operation like a circus. 

In addition to promoting the circuses, Andrew managed his own act.  An article from 1879 described the exciting races Andy McDonald held at the state fair in Minnesota.  Andrew ran Roman chariots.  As a charioteer, he had two chariots drawn by four black and four white horses described as Kentucky racers.  A lady drove one of the spirited teams and a man the other.  The horses were so wild that they could not be driven on ordinary roads.  Several men had to hold them until they were brought on the track and the drivers were placed in the chariots.  The horses ran a half-mile dash in 57 seconds. 

Andy was a circus man through the 1870s and 1880s.  He eventually left the demanding life of the circus.  In June of 1900, at age 64, then a carriage blacksmith, Andy lived with Addie, his wife of 31 years, in Chicago.  He died in 1903.

Both Robinson and Costello’s circuses went belly up as did so many others.  Barnum joined Bailey’s Great Show which ultimately merged with Ringling Bros. of Baraboo, Wisconsin to form the most enduring circus of the 20th century--Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey Circus.  

Ah-ne-pe: The Gray Wolf

Sunday, August 17, 2014

“My grandfather, the old Ne-po-nek, told me this story.”  

As Ke-toose began to speak, a circle formed.  Che-naub, Paw-co-wau-pee, No-chunka, and Quetek squatted around the blazing campfire on the sandy beach, near the mouth of the river, at the edge of the great lake.  Ke-toose, chieftain of the Pottawottamie, drew up his ragged blanket and crouched by the flickering flames.  The women sat in the shadows.  Everyone listened as he told them about the gray wolf, Ah-ne-pe.

It happened long before the days of the white man, Ke-toose said.  “There were many wolves in those days but none like the big gray wolf, Ah-ne-pe.  He fed upon women and children.  If a Pottawottamie girl strayed into the forest when we made our camps here, she never returned.  If a child played in the bushes when we came to this river, he never more came back…  Even our hunters sometimes came staggering back…clothing torn…blood running from red wounds.  They had seen the great gray wolf; it had come upon them like a rushing wind from the thicket or pounced upon them like a spirit in the darkness and their arrows were broken reeds and their axes refused to do their work.”  Surely the gray wolf was an evil spirit.  Fear came over the people; red deer and black bear deserted the forests.

 

Far to the south lived a mighty Pottawottamie man, Sha-hoka.  Swift of foot, sure of eye, and strong of arm, Sha-hoka was a keen hunter.  Sha-hoka was a young man and had no wife, just an empty wigwam.  Although many love sticks had been thrown at him, he made no sign to take a wife, until one day, while walking in the birch woods, he met a maiden.  His heart became soft.

 

He went to the chief of her tribe, Os-a-ma-kee, and said, “Give me this maiden to wife.”

  

Os-a-ma-kee laughed.  “Does the wolf’s daughter mate with the rabbit?  Does the eaglet take to husband the catbird?”  The chief challenged Sha-hoka’s strength and manliness.  “Go and kill Ah-ne-pe, the gray wolf,” the chief sneered and he walked away.

 

Sha-hoka, though he was a great hunter, was angry and afraid.  He had heard of the big gray wolf and wanted to hunt him but he was love sick for the maiden and hurt by the chief’s words.  He lay like a sick man by his campfire. 

One day the maiden stole into his lodge and said to him, “Go and kill Ah-ne-pee, the gray wolf.”  She fled back to her village.

Sha-hoka sprang to his feet.  He would kill this Ah-ne-pee, this eater of women and children and slayer of men, and the maiden shall be his wife.

Sha-hoka made a strong bow of wood from the ash tree.  He made the strings from the rawhide of a red deer he had shot in the light of the full moon.  An arrow maker filled Sha-hoka’s quiver.  The medicine man made him a big medicine that would make his heart bold and his arm strong.  Sha-hoka set off for the land of Ah-ne-pe, the gray wolf.

 

The forests teemed with bear and deer, but Sha-hoka paid them no mind.  He hastened on.  When he reached the land of Ah-ne-pee, except for the whispering of the wind in the pines and the lap of the waves on the lake, there was only stillness.  Through the maple, beech, and birch, he moved with caution until he came to the silently flowing river.  Here he made his campfire.

 

For many days he watched and waited with the patience of a great hunter.  But a strange fear began to overcome him:  fear of the dark, fear of loneliness, fear of the deserted forest, and fear of the wolf.
   

One night, when sleep would not come, he heard in the distance the long howl of the wolf.  It was like nothing else Sha-hoka had ever heard.  The great baying cry was repeated for many nights. 

Finally, one day, near a huge thicket of dead leaves, a huge gray beast jumped up and ran away.  With a hunter’s cry, Sha-hoka set out after it.  Through the forest they ran, through limbs that tore Sha-hoka’s hair and bruised his body, and scratched his hands and feet.  He pursued the gray monster.

 

The gray wolf ran toward the river.  Sha-hoka shouted, “Ho, Ah-ne-pe, you have not the mind of a man.  You are but a cowardly wolf with the spirit of a rabbit.” 

The gray wolf turned around, snarled, and rushed the hunter with its red eyes and horrible gleaming teeth.  It came with great leaps and bounds, back arched with bristling hair.

Sha-hoka stood still.  He seized his axe as the demon beast sprang on him.  He struck with his axe and seized the wolf by the neck.  They struggled—the wolf biting and tearing--in a mad embrace.

Many hours later, Sha-hoka awoke.  The sun had gone down, the woods were dark, and he lay with his head upon a gray, lifeless mass.  Ah-ne-pe was dead.

Sha-hoka returned to the land of the maiden and threw the head of the wolf at the feet of the chief.   “Here is the head of Ah-ne-pe; Sha-hoka, the Pottawottamie hunter, gives it to you.”

Sha-hoka took the hand of the chief’s daughter and led her back to the land of Ah-ne-pe.  When they found the den of the great gray beast, they built their lodge home.

With Ah-ne-pe dead, the red deer returned, the bear found their old lairs, the squirrels chattered again, and the birds sang once more.

“This is the story of Ah-ne-pe, the great gray wolf, told me, the old Ke-toose, by my grandfather, the old Ne-po-nek.”

This story is adapted from the writing of George Wing.  As the legend goes, Ne-po-nek passed the story to his son, Chief Ah-kee-waysee, and grandson, Chief Ke-toose (who died in 1869 at about age 110).  Ke-toose passed it to his son, Neen-gaho-sum, and to Ketoose’s grandson, Simon Kahquados.  Kahquados shared it with his friend, George Wing.  Wing recorded many stories of Indian lore of Kewaunee County. 

The Origin of Shanty Days

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Boat at shanty (photo used with permission of Wendell Wilke) 

It rained on Toot’s parade.  That is to say, it rained--a real gully washer--right in the middle of the inaugural Shanty Days parade in 1987 when Algoma, posthumously, honored Francis “Toot” Wenniger.  It rained the next year too when Shanty Days honored another prominent local fisherman, Art Dettman.

Shanty Days was begun as a business venture to bring tourism to Algoma and celebrate Algoma’s best asset, Lake Michigan.  Toot Wenniger, the first Shanty Days honoree, was a commercial fisherman.  Art Dettman, who was honored the second year, was a pioneer in sport and charter fishing.  Both were fitting subjects to be recognized at a festival billed as “A Celebration of the Lake”.  Wenniger, it was said, was the “Personification of the Spirit of the Lake”.  Dettman was the “Fishing Mayor”.

 

In addition to a 150 unit parade, the Shanty Days festivities included lake-related activities like a trout pond for young fishermen.  There was a World Championship Smelt Cleaning Contest with the name of the winner to be submitted to the Guinness World Book.  A boat show featured antique, futuristic, modified, and home built boats.  There was a sport show with taxidermists and tackle.  The U.S. Coast Guard demonstrated air and sea rescues.

    

A favorite part of the celebration was the fish dinner.  Commercial fisherman of Kewaunee and Door counties donated 100 pounds of fish each for a combined plate of whitefish, smelt, and perch offering 6-8 butterflies at $3 per plate.

 

Music and dancing of all kinds were featured--polka, folk, jazz, bagpipe, the Algoma Community Band, and a barbershop quartet.  There was a sock hop.  Johnny and the Stingrays played 50s and 60s favorites.  There was wrist wrestling, an art show, a 10K and 5K run, and a farmers market.  A tremendous fireworks display capped off the family friendly festival.

Honoring Wenniger and Dettman in particular those first two years of the festival was intimately linked to the personal investments these two characters had in fishing and Algoma.  While both shared a love of the lake, they were very different fishermen.

       

After Toot Wenniger--who earned his nicknamed as a young child--married in 1932, he began fishing full-time.  By several accounts he was a unique, kind man.  He once cut his boat in two and added a piece in the middle to make it longer.  He ran a 150’ dock, a shed, two boats, and a fertilizer plant.  In retirement, he continued to run a boat and oversee his fertilizer business.  Toot claimed he was a conservationist because he fished when there were some fish and did other things when there weren’t.  He passionately disagreed with DNR fishing control measures.  Toot Wenniger was part of the fishing industry on Lake Michigan for over 50 years.

    

When Art Dettman began dating the assistant lighthouse keeper’s daughter, Caroline Braemer, he became interested in fishing.  Arthur Dettman was mayor of Algoma for four terms from 1964-72.  As mayor, Dettman worked collaboratively with the DNR.  He championed a project to get the DNR to plant coho salmon.  He promoted sport fishing by giving game reports.  After Dettman took then Wisconsin Governor Warren Knowles out on the lake on a charter excursion, the governor proclaimed that Algoma was the “Salmon and Trout Capital of Wisconsin”. 

  

Art Dettman's fish shanty

“Shanty Days”, the event’s fitting name, is derived from the prevalence of fish shanties that once lined the river.  According to the book “Commercial Development of Algoma, Wisconsin”, as early as 1851, when Orrin Warner and John Hughes built a little hut on the north side of the river, fishermen had been building sheds, shanties, and net drying racks at the river’s edge.

   

A prime example of those shanties remains on the north side of the Ahnapee River.  Art Dettman’s shanty was built in 1935.  He leased the property from the Algoma Fuel Company.  The Dettman fish shanty is on the National Register of Historic Places and is one of the only remaining shanties left on Lake Michigan.  His fishing tug, the “Caroline”, was built by Peterson Boat Builders of Sturgeon Bay.  

     

For more information read “The Real Shanty Days in Algoma, WI:  Commercial Fishing at its Best, Vol. II,” compiled and printed by Wendell Wilke.  The book provides amazing photos and details of the history of the early days of fishing at Algoma.

 

Perhaps it will rain again this year during Shanty Days.  Let’s hope it holds off until after the parade and fireworks.