Migrating to Michigan

  Text copyright © 2010 Jeffery L. Schatzer

  Cover image © 2010 Jeffrey Ebbeler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.

  Any errors of fact or misrepresentations are unintentional and solely the fault of the author.

  All inquiries should be addressed to:

  Mitten Press

  An imprint of Ann Arbor Media Group LLC

  2500 S. State Street

  Ann Arbor, MI 48104

  Printed and bound at Edwards Brothers, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan

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  Library of Congress Cataloging Data on File.

  ISBN: 978-1-58726-604-1

  Contents

  No School

  Tuesday Again

  Searching for Mister Adams

  Digging into Immigrant History

  Immigrant’s Path

  Mister Adams Wanders

  Journey to the Melting Pot of Michigan

  Chilling on a Hillside

  A Walk through Frontier Detroit

  The Pothole

  The State Building

  The Franconians

  Time-Out

  The Dutch

  Owen Takes a Trip

  Foreign Food

  The Irish in Michigan

  Finding Friends

  Relaxing Near the Fort

  Computer Conflict

  The Immigrants of Copper Country

  The Quincy Mine

  Lost in Copper Country

  A Close Call

  A Peek into the Lumbering Era

  Copper Country Chat

  Talking Timber

  Poletown

  Rachel and Jesse in Trouble

  Talk about Hamtramck

  Snacking on Immigration History

  An Immigrant Visit

  The Report

  Author’s Notebook

  No School

  Outside Arrowhead School—Today

  I don’t know why I’m always the one who gets caught in the middle of things. Rachel is angry with Owen, and she won’t talk to him. Owen is mad at Rachel, and he won’t talk to her. So, I have to waste my whole day playing monkey-in-the-middle between the two of them. If Miss Pepper hadn’t asked me to come along, I’d be playing with the rest of my friends.

  “R-r-r-r-r! I am mad!” Rachel said. “Everybody else at Arrowhead School has the day off for the teachers’ conference. But, not me! Why do I have to work with Owen on a special report for Miss Pepper?”

  “Jesse,” Owen said to me, “tell Rachel to hurry up. The sooner we get this over, the sooner we can enjoy our time off from school like everybody else.”

  I stopped and looked at Rachel. “Owen wants me to ask you to hurry up, please.”

  “I heard what he said. You can tell Owen that I’m coming. You can also tell him to stop bugging me.” Rachel stopped talking and crossed her arms, “For another matter, he knew we were going to visit Professor Tuesday today. He could have at least worn some decent clothes.”

  “First off,” Owen answered as he turned to me, “SHE is as much to blame as I am. We both got in trouble because we argue all the time. Besides, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Look at him,” Rachel said. “He’s got on those baggy shorts and a messy T-shirt with a dog on it that says ‘Bad to the Bone.’ His glasses are broken, and there’s tape on them. He’s got his stupid ball cap on backwards and his high-tops are untied … again.”

  I stomped my foot. “Hold it right now. Both of you need to calm down.”

  Owen and Rachel just stared at me. Nobody was happy, including me. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and birds chirped loudly. Other kids were laughing and playing outside in the warm sunshine. But, Owen and Rachel have an assignment to do … and I’m stuck here in the middle between the two of them.

  Suddenly, Owen’s eyes got really big and his mouth opened wide. “AH-H-H-CHOO!” he sneezed into his elbow. “There must be a lot of pollen in the air.”

  “It’s really good that you sneezed into your elbow,” I said. “Miss Pepper says that’s the best way to stop germs from spreading.”

  “He’s always sneezing,” Rachel said. “That’s just one more thing that bugs me about him.”

  “She’s always bratty,” Owen said to me. “That’s just one more thing that bugs me about her.”

  I crossed my arms and stared at both of my friends. “Look, if you two don’t stop sniping at each other, I’m going home to enjoy my day off school. Will you at least try to be a little more kind to each other … at least for today?”

  Owen and Rachel stopped for a moment. “Okay, I’ll try,” Owen said. Rachel just shook her head yes.

  After walking the ten long blocks from our school to the university, we arrived at the building where the professor worked. We climbed the big stone steps to the entrance. Once we got there, it took all of Owen’s might to open the large wooden door. Since it was Tuesday, we hoped that Professor Tuesday would be in his office.

  As the door opened, I thought about the first time I ever saw Professor Tuesday. My class was on a field trip to meet him and learn about Chief Pontiac’s war. Some kids in my class laughed at him, because he was so different. The professor has a long, bushy beard. His hair is mostly white and uncombed. A wide bald spot crowns the top of his head. His thick glasses generally hang low on his nose, and his eyes seem to always be moving back and forth.

  Professor Tuesday looks kind of funny in his big glasses, doctor’s coat, and bow tie. While he is very smart and very nice, he is a bit strange. The professor loves Tuesdays and does most things in twos. To top it all off, he invented a machine that can take people back in time, but it only works on Tuesdays, and it only goes back to Tuesdays in history.

  As we spent time with him the day of our field trip, the class grew to like Professor Tuesday. I was looking forward to seeing him again, myself. I shivered as I stepped through the door of the university building. It was warm outside, but the inside of the big stone building was cool. Once inside, Rachel stepped up to a sign that was on the wall by the door.

  “What is she looking at?” Owen asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m looking at the building directory,” she said. “Most buildings have the names of people or businesses posted on the wall. It’s called a directory. The names of people who work in buildings like this are usually in alphabetical order.”

  Owen read aloud down the list of names on the chart. “Professor Adams, Professor Dowler, Professor Samson … there he is … Professor Tuesday 2C.”

  “That means the professor’s office is on the second floor in room C,” said Rachel.

  “Duh, really?” Owen said smartly. Then he looked at me. “Sorry, I’ll try to be a little nicer.”

  “C’mon, let’s find him,” Rachel said as we all headed up the wide stairs. She stopped on the steps and turned to Owen. “Did you bring your journal? Miss Pepper said we were supposed to keep journals for the report.”

  “Of course I brought my journal,” Owen replied as he slapped his journal against the wall. “Do you have yours?”

  Rachel pulled her journal out of her backpack and gave Owen a funny look.

  Tuesday Again

  University Building—Today

  We found the office in the middle of the building. Professor Tuesday’s name was lettered on the cloudy glass at the top of th
e closed door. There weren’t any lights on in the room. I worried that the professor might not be in his office.

  Owen knocked lightly at the door. There was no answer. We waited several minutes, and then he knocked again.

  “Knock harder,” Rachel said.

  This time, Owen made a fist and pounded on the door. The glass rattled and the old wooden door creaked open a little bit. Owen looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Without saying a word, we pushed the door slowly. The hinges on the heavy door groaned as it swung open. When we poked our heads inside, we couldn’t see anybody.

  The shades were drawn over the windows and all the lights were off. The office was so dark it took time for our eyes to adjust. Papers and books were stacked in high piles everywhere. The office was quiet and still.

  We were about to turn around and leave when Owen whispered, “Look!” He pointed to the far side of the room. Two tiny lights moved back and forth steadily. We watched the lights as the three of us quietly stepped into the dark room.

  “This is creepy,” I whispered. “Turn on the lights.”

  Rachel peeked around the corner of the professor’s desk as Owen went to turn on the light switch. Just before the lights came on, I saw him. The two tiny lights were on his glasses. He was reading a book in the dark.

  When Owen flipped on the lights, the professor jumped and screamed. When Professor Tuesday screamed, Rachel, Owen, and I screamed.

  The professor jumped up from his chair and hopped up on top of his desk. He held his chest with one hand and his head with the other. Then he hopped from one foot to the other. Once the screaming stopped, he started laughing. Then, Owen, Rachel, and I started laughing, too. It was quite a funny sight.

  “That was a good scare,” said Professor Tuesday. He smiled as he carefully climbed down from his desk and turned off the lights that were on his glasses. “I like a good scare now and then. It gets the old heart pumping!”

  The professor straightened himself and looked at the three of us. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Rachel looked at Owen, he looked at me, and we all shrugged. None of us could figure out what the professor meant.

  The professor looked confused for a moment. Then he realized that we didn’t understand his question. “Why are you here?”

  “Oh,” I answered, “my name is Jesse, and these are my friends Rachel and Owen. We are all in Miss Pepper’s class at Arrowhead School.”

  “Oh, I remember your class,” the professor said. “Your school came to the university on a field trip to learn about Chief Pontiac.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Now, Owen and Rachel need your help with something.”

  Professor Tuesday blinked twice and looked right at me. “Owen and Rachel need my help, but what about you?”

  Owen shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor as he spoke. “It’s like this, Professor. Rachel and I got in trouble at school. It seems like we’re always arguing about this and that. So, Miss Pepper gave us an assignment to work on together over the school break.”

  “Ah-h-h,” the professor said as he stroked his long, white beard, “Jesse is here to be the peacemaker between you two. So, what is this special assignment?”

  “We have to do a report on the immigrants who settled in Michigan,” Owen answered.

  The professor’s eyes got wide with excitement. “What a great assignment!” he shouted. “I’ve been studying immigrants and immigration for years. In fact, I was just reading a book on the Finns in Michigan. It’s very interesting.”

  “Professor, my family came to Michigan from Finland,” Owen said proudly. “Can we go back in time to visit my relatives with your Tuesday Teleporter?”

  “Perhaps,” the professor replied. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish before I can help you with your research. While I attend to these matters, you can go get my nephew. He’s in the library on the main floor of this building. Bring him back here, and we’ll begin our research.”

  “Your nephew?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said the professor. “His name is Mister Adams. He is staying with me while my sister is on vacation. I’m sure he’d enjoy coming along with us.”

  Searching for Mister Adams

  University Building—Today

  The professor turned and started shuffling some papers as Owen, Rachel, and I left to search for Mister Adams. We went down the stairs and took another look at the building directory. There it was—the library was located in room 1A on the first floor of the building.

  “Do you think we should have asked Professor Tuesday what Mister Adams looks like?” I asked.

  “Nah,” Owen answered as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “There aren’t many people in this building. I’m sure we’ll be able to find him without any trouble.”

  As we walked down the hallway toward the library, Rachel’s shoes made a clopping sound on the shiny black floor. Owen’s sneakers made a squishy sound with each step he took. The sounds their shoes made echoed through the empty hallway. Before long, we were standing in front of the library. We pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The library was quiet and musty smelling. Our library at Arrowhead School has a media specialist who helps us with finding books, computer searches, and stuff. There wasn’t a media specialist in this library, just rows and rows of high bookshelves and lots and lots of books.

  Owen, Rachel, and I walked down the rows of bookshelves. Though there were tons of books, the library looked like it was empty of people. We searched row after row without seeing anyone. When we got to the very last row of shelves, we were surprised by what we saw. A little boy was sitting on top of a big book, scribbling on a piece of paper with a pencil. He looked to be about the same age as my little brother—maybe four years old. The boy had freckles and thick glasses. Little sprigs of hair stuck out all over his head.

  “Hi,” Owen said. “Have you seen Mister Adams around here anywhere?”

  He didn’t say a word. Instead, he stood up, looked at us, made some funny movements with his hands, and turned a page in the book. Then he sat back down again.

  “Say,” Owen said, “do you think he’s Mister Adams?”

  “No,” Rachel said. “That can’t be Mister Adams. He’s just a little kid.”

  “Mister Adams must have left the library,” I said to Owen. “Why don’t we look through the rest of the building? Who knows, maybe he went back to the professor’s office.”

  Owen and Rachel agreed and we left the library to search the building. The old building was almost completely empty. We only found one other person. A student was taking a test in one of the offices. She was definitely not Mister Adams.

  We kept looking, searching every floor and every office. We didn’t find the professor’s nephew anywhere. We were getting worried so we went back to Professor Tuesday’s office. We found the professor humming to himself as he fiddled with his laptop. When the professor noticed the three of us standing there, a curious look crossed his face.

  “I thought you were going to get Mister Adams,” the professor said.

  “We looked through the library,” I said. “In fact, we looked all through the building. We couldn’t find him anywhere.”

  “What?” said the professor. “Oh my goodness, we’ve got to find him and find him now! There’s no way I can go anywhere until we find him.”

  “But we’ve got a report that’s due next Monday,” Rachel said.

  The professor stopped and turned to Rachel. “Mister Adams is my first responsibility. I’m sorry, but his safety is more important than your report. If we all work together to find him, we can begin your research. But we have to find him first.”

  We followed the professor as he raced out the door and down the hallway. All the while, the professor called out for his nephew. “Mister Adams! Mister Adams! Come here, you rascal.”

  The professor climbed up on the hand railing and slid down the staircase all the way to the first floor o
f the building. He jumped off the railing when he got to the bottom and took off down the hallway toward the library. “We must find him or my sister will be very angry with me,” the professor said. “Mister Adams has a bad habit of wandering off.”

  When the professor entered the library, Owen called out to him. “Professor, we already looked in the library. Nobody’s in there but a …”

  Just then we heard the professor shout with joy. “There you are, Mister Adams. I thought you were lost.” The professor came out of the library with the little boy in his arms.

  “That’s Mister Adams?” Owen said. “We thought that Mister Adams would be a grown person.”

  “Heavens, no,” said the professor. “This is my nephew, Mister Adams.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, Professor,” I said, “how did a little kid get a name like ‘Mister Adams’?”

  The professor blinked twice and scratched his bald head. “You see, my sister wanted her son to have an important sounding name. She likes history, too. And, her favorite president of the United States was John Adams. Abigail Adams, the wife of President Adams, often referred to him as ‘Mr. Adams.’ That’s how he got his name. Don’t you think that’s an important sounding name?”

  “Strange,” said Owen as he took off his ball cap and shook his head back and forth. “But I guess that makes sense, kind of.”

  “Maybe so,” said the professor, “but when people meet Mister Adams they never forget him. Even though he’s just a small child, he can read and write very well. He was in the library helping me on a project. Mister Adams is very smart, but there’s one thing you should know about him. He doesn’t like to talk.”

  “You said that we had to take Mister Adams with us on our adventure today,” Rachel noted. “What are we going to do with a little kid tagging along?”