Marine City High School - Mariner Yearbook (Marine City, MI)

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MARINE CITY AS IT USED TO BE (An Interview With Mrs. John Hawthorne) By Ruth May “Aunt Emily” Ward was born in 1829. She was probably a young girl in her teens when she moved here from Ohio. When Mrs. Hawthorne, then three years old, moved to Marine City (then Newport), “Aunt Emily” Ward was in the neigh- borhood of fifty. She was a large, masculine-looking woman, with three little curls hanging down over her shoulders; the rest of her hair was done up in a little knot on the back of her head. She dressed very plainly. The story is told that she made the laborious voyage to Detroit in a print dress and sunbonnet. The Wards owned a shipyard extending along the water front from where Henry Holland now lives, to Cottrell’s dock. Their sawmill was where Dr. McLean’s house now stands. The land since washed away then extended out three lots. Mrs. Holland’s father was the manager of the sawmill. The workmen rafted the logs down Belle River and up St. Clair to the mill, where they were arranged in a “boom.” A boom is a “fence of logs” made by chaining them together. An iron car the size of a railroad repair car rolled down the incline. The raftsmen, who wore spikes in their shoes, then loaded a log onto the car, which also was provided with spikes to hold the log in place; the car was then hauled up the slope and the logs saved. The Wards also owned a store — grocery, dry goods and shoe store combined. Up stairs pillow-cases, towels, tablecloths, mattresses, etc., were made. Aunt Emily Ward superintended the sewing. Of course, it was hand-sewing. It was conducted something like this: the linen was stamped in this room, a dozen or more stamped pieces given to each woman in the “factory,” who then took them home and overcast them by hand. They were then returned to the factory and inspected by the Superintendent, Aunt Emily Ward. The Wards owned also the two blocks from Water to Main and St. Clair to Union. The house where Mr. Roach and Mr. Hanks now reside was part of her house, and the green house where Smiths and Bells now live, was part of the same house. Her barn was located where the Hose House now stands. Aunt Emily Ward was mother to everyone in Marine. She brought up five children left by her brother, and the children left by her sister. She adopted nearly all the orphans about town. All told, it is said that she raised, or helped start in life, fifty-seven people. All have made their mark in the world, among whom are Chris. Ogden, who is General Superintendent of the Milwaukee Iron Company, and Theobald Ogden, who is a lawyer and was for twelve years a Con- gressman from Wisconsin. She also raised the Brindall girls (the husband of one is now living in St. Clair), and the Owen girls. Aunt Emily Ward taught the academy, whose site was where the big school now stands. This was a private school of about one hundred pupils, all told. A parent had to secure her permission before his child could be sent. Certain of the workingmen’s children were excluded because even then the pioneers did not feel willing to allow their children to play or associate with the “lower class.” Her niece, Miss Brindall, gave music lessons before and after school hours, on the school piano on the platform. 9

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“When a person strolls up Main street his attention is called to the Water- works building. This large red-brick edifice was built in 1884 and still stands firmly. It will be well not to visit the place right at the noon hour, because the building contains a whistle that emits the most unearthly wails as the clock on the waterworks shelf registers the hour of twelve. It also acts as a fire alarm, and then, too, at 9 o’clock at night, the time when little children should be home, it wails the doomed hour when all play must cease. “The village was now growing steadily. Then a way for quicker and better travel came when the D. U. R. was introduced. The franchise was bucked by “Old Timers,” because they didn’t want their land crossed by the intruding engine. Be- fore the D. U. R. came to Marine City the people travelled by stage coach. The roads were terrible, and many times the carriages have been mired to the hubs on Main street.” I had been listening to the talker for a couple of hours. These are only a few of the numerous and interesting things about Marine City that he told me. He asked if I would like to look the town over. I gladly accepted. We visited about every business place in town, and 1 was delighted at the air of prosperity they displayed. Of all the places I visited one of the most interesting was the Marine City High School. They had a lovely new building with all modern equip- ment and an industrious assembly of students. As we were leaving the building the funniest old rattle trap of a Ford was coming down the street. It was a 1925 model and looked as though it had been through many wars. I laughed, as it was surely a funny sight. My informant then said, “If you think that funny, 1 wish you co uld have seen the first automobile that came to Marine City. It was a one-cylinder Oldsmobile and was owned by W. F. Sauber. When it came down the street it sounded almost as bad as a threshing machine. “Speaking of Mr. Sauber,” he went on, “he was the founder of the Marine City sugar factory. It was a refining factory. The expense was so great that it closed down for awhile, only to be opened again, but the second attempt also failed.” It was now time for me to return to the city. Leaving Marine, I noticed the noble bridge spanning the swift, deep and treacherous Belle river — a structure famous for the length of time it took to build — begun in 1922, finished two years later. When asked what I think about Marine City I always answer, “It is one of the nicest little spots on earth. It is a paradise where people may live in beautiful homes, with wonderful lawns and flowers; where one may go boating, fishing and swimming and indulge in all such sports to his heart’s content.” Such is “Marine on the St. Clair.” 8 — By Edith G. Kessel.

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Aunt Emily Ward’s house was like a palace — at least so thought the children. A fine garden, a strawberry patch were by the house. Her brother, Eber Ward, was a rich man and kept her supplied with the pecuniary necessities for running the household on such a vast scale. Fishing was one of the chief industries. Aunt Emily Ward said that many times alter teaching school all day she would go down to the fishery and scale fish. As I have said before, Aunt Emily Ward was a mother to everyone in Marine. When anybody was sick, she was the first to be there. In the days when doctors were a luxury, she was doctor and nurse combined. Children as well as older people were always welcome at her home. Just before the Civil War she moved to Fort St., Detroit. The annual outing to Detroit to visit Aunt Emily Ward there was the “thrill of a life-time.” We will now take a brief survey of the hamlet as it was in the “fifties.” There were no sidewalks — only planks, and the children going barefooted sadly felt the need of both shoes and sidewalks. It is said that people would walk to town barefooted, wash their feet in Belle River and then put on their shoes before enter- ing the “metropolis”; all this so as to save shoe-leather. The only kind of light was candles. Mrs. Hawthorne well remembers when the family bought their first oil lamp. The children were cautioned to beware the lamp as they would a dangerous animal. The only means of conveyance was by horse and buggy, wagon, or oxen The rides on the first street cars — pulled by horses — was an epoch-making event. When Mrs. Hawthorne moved here the family and furniture were transported on a scow, which landed at Roberts’ Landing, then Haywood’s, for there was then only a shift at Marine for cross-water traffic. They were forced to live three weeks in a ware-house because no houses were available, and the few that were were were mostly shacks. Finally they secured a house which was where the Odd Fellow Hall now stands. Marine was then but a hamlet, and even then all the people were congested in a very small area, and empty houses were scarcer than diamonds. It was all woods beginning where Capt. John McDonald now lives on West- minster. Much of the land had not yet been cleared off. There were woods and woods everywhere. The boats were made out of wood and carried wood. In fact, WOOD made Marine City. Where the stone road of Backus Ave. now runs was the plank road, which ran over and met the bridge. A toll gate was at the end of the bridge, and more than death took its toll. On the other side of the river was a marsh. Here much game abounded — turkey, pigeons, squirrels by the crock-fuls! The captured wild meat was salted, for there were no meat markets in those days. But all was not work; there were memorable picnics and 4th of July cele- brations, at which barrels and barrels of lemonade were drunk (not to say what else). The woods teemed with game, and wild flowers sprang up everywhere. 10