Migrating to Michigan Read online

  I could tell that Rachel thought that getting a babysitter for the professor’s nephew was a great idea. Mister Adams looked very sad. Slowly he raised his right hand to his chest and made the letter s, then his hand made a circle in front of his heart.

  Rachel pointed at Mister Adams, “I think that sign means he’s sorry.”

  “Very good, Rachel,” said Professor Tuesday. “Is everyone ready to go on another adventure?”

  “Sure,” Owen said, “but aren’t we going to talk about our trip to the Erie Canal?”

  The professor nodded his head, “Yes, we’ll talk about the Erie Canal when we get to Detroit.”

  “Are we going to Detroit, now?” Rachel asked. “My dad goes to Detroit on business. He even takes me with him sometimes. Maybe we can see a ballgame or go to the zoo.”

  The professor gave Rachel a knowing smile. “I don’t think there will be a ballgame on our visit, but there’s no doubt we’ll see some animals.”

  Rachel clapped her hands and jumped up and down in excitement. “I love animals.”

  “I think everything is ready now,” said the professor as he started up the teleporter for a second visit into history. “I’ll just poke my head into the cloud to take a look around before we travel.”

  It looked funny when the professor stuck his head into the green cloud. With his head inside, he looked like a headless body that stood in front of us. After a moment he pulled it back. “Everything is just fine. Wait until you see this. You won’t believe it.”

  We held hands once again, this time with Mister Adams between Owen and me. We didn’t want him to wander off again. Even with all the loud noises the teleporter made, all of us could hear Owen sneeze once more as we traveled through time.

  We came through the green cloud and landed on a grassy hill overlooking a frontier town at the edge of the water. “Welcome to Detroit,” said the professor.

  “This can’t be Detroit,” Rachel said. “Where are the tall buildings? Where are the expressways and all the cars? What about the airplanes and helicopters? This doesn’t look anything like Detroit.”

  The professor let out a loud laugh. “My dear,” he said, “this is Detroit as it was in 1837, long before they had cars, planes, professional sports teams, museums, and zoos.”

  “But you said that we’d see animals,” Rachel pouted.

  “We’ll see lots of animals,” the professor replied. “Just you wait and see.” The professor sat down on the grassy hill and took off his shoes and socks.

  “What are you doing, Professor?” I asked.

  “Don’t you just love the feeling of grass between your toes?” he asked.

  “I sure do,” said Owen as he pulled off his high-tops and socks. His one shoe and sock were still covered with mud. Soon all of us were lying back on the hill with grass between our toes. Big, billowy clouds hung in the blue sky above our heads. Owen saw one that looked like a dragon. Rachel found one that looked like a car, kind of.

  Mister Adams started jumping up and down and pointing toward a cloud that was over the lake. He made his right hand in the shape of the letter a and covered it with his left hand. Then he moved his right thumb back and forth.

  “What’s he saying, Professor?” Owen asked.

  The professor looked at Mister Adams and then at the clouds. “He’s saying he sees a cloud that looks like a turtle.”

  We all had a good laugh. As we relaxed on the hillside, the professor started to ask us questions.

  “So, why do you think Detroit is a busy town in 1837?” asked the professor.

  “It is because the city is on water,” Owen replied.

  “I think it’s because of the Erie Canal,” said Rachel.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “All of you are correct,” said the professor. “The Erie Canal was one of the main reasons Detroit became an important city in the 1800s. The canal made it much easier for people and supplies to travel from New York to the Midwest.” The professor chewed on a piece of grass as he thought. “What did you write in your journals about the canal?”

  Owen opened his journal and looked up at the professor. “I wrote down that it was one big ditch.”

  Even Rachel laughed at what he had written.

  “Funny that you should call it a ‘ditch’,” said the professor. “When Governor Clinton of New York decided to build the Erie Canal, some politicians didn’t like the idea. In fact, they often called the project ‘Clinton’s Ditch’.”

  “That is funny,” I said.

  “So, what did we learn on our trip to visit the Erie Canal?” asked the professor.

  “For one thing,” Rachel said smartly, “we learned that Owen didn’t do a good job of watching Mister Adams.”

  “AH-H-H-CHOO!” Owen sneezed into his elbow. Then he looked down as he spoke, “I’m sorry, Professor. I should have been more careful.”

  “Well,” said the professor, “you made a mistake, and I was scared that we might lose Mister Adams for a while. What is important is that we all learn from our mistakes. In fact, making mistakes is an important way we learn. Next time we will all be more careful.”

  Owen nodded his head in agreement. Mister Adams just smiled and shook his head yes.

  “Exactly why is the canal so important to our study of immigrants?” Rachel asked.

  The professor looked up at the sky as he spoke. “Traveling over land took much longer and it was more difficult than traveling through a waterway. Once the Erie Canal was built, immigrants had an easy and inexpensive route to Michigan. People poured into our state from all over the world. It was the Erie Canal that made it possible for so many new people to come to here.”

  Professor Tuesday raised one shoulder then the other. “The idea for the Erie Canal started in the late 1700s. Robert Fulton, himself, sent a letter to George Washington in 1797 to ask for his support for the canal.”

  “Robert Fulton,” I asked, “wasn’t he the guy who invented the steam engine or something like that?”

  “Very good,” said the professor. “Fulton was a famous inventor who came from Ireland. He also was very interested in a canal that would help to open up North America to new settlement and trade.”

  “Did I mention that I’m part Irish?” Rachel asked proudly.

  “I believe you did,” answered the professor.

  Chilling on a Hillside

  Detroit – July 1837

  Professor Tuesday picked a leaf off of his coat before he continued. “A survey was done in 1816 that established the route of the Erie Canal. It was to run from the Hudson River, not far from what is now New York City, to Lake Erie near Buffalo, New York. Work started on the canal in 1817, and it was finished in 1825.”

  “Who did all the work?” Owen asked as he scratched his nose.

  The professor smiled. “Thousands of immigrants helped to build it. British, Irish, and Germans provided much of the work. Keep in mind that, back in those days, they didn’t have big construction equipment like front-end loaders, dump trucks, and bulldozers. The entire canal had to be dug by hand and with the help of horses and other work animals.”

  “So, how long was the canal?” Rachel asked.

  “When it was first built, the Erie Canal was 363 miles long. That’s about the same distance between Detroit, Michigan, and Louisville, Kentucky,” said the professor. “It was also 40 feet wide and 4 feet deep.”

  “Holy cow,” Owen said. “That’s a long way and a lot of digging.”

  The professor looked at us without saying anything. Suddenly, Owen spoke up again. “I saw something else that was interesting. One boat went into a big rock box and it seemed to float up a bit.”

  “Excellent,” said Professor Tuesday. “You saw a lock.”

  “A lock, like on my locker at school?” I asked.

  “No, locks on a locker are different. Waterway locks were used by the canal’s designers to lift boats up to the level of Lake Erie or down to the level of the Hudson River,” said
the professor. “You see, Lake Erie is about 560 feet higher than the Hudson River. So locks were built to lift or lower boats and barges as they traveled along the canal. If the boat is heading toward Lake Erie, it would enter a lock and water would be added to raise it up. When a boat was headed toward the Hudson River from Lake Erie, it would be lowered by the locks. As I recall, there were about 85 locks needed for the canal. In its day, the Erie Canal was thought to be a miracle of engineering. And it was.”

  The professor thought for a moment before speaking. “In those days, there were very few roads. The entire countryside was like the thick woods where we first started out. So, to travel over land from New York City to Buffalo, New York, may have taken weeks. The Erie Canal allowed people and cargo to travel the same distance in about four days.”

  I nodded my head.

  “Professor,” Owen said, “I heard some kids shouting to the horses alongside the canal. What was that all about?”

  “Good question,” said the professor. “Teams of horses were used to pull boats and barges along a special pathway. The ‘hoggees’ who drove these teams of horses along the paths were just boys.”

  “Driving horses along the canal … that sounds like a pretty cool job,” Owen said. “I would have picked a different name for it, though.”

  “I should think so,” Professor Tuesday agreed.

  “So, did you take us to the Erie Canal to show us how immigrants built it?” I asked.

  Mister Adams then made a circular motion with his hands in front of his body.

  “That’s right, Mister Adams,” the professor noted. “I wanted everyone to see that one of the boats on the canal was carrying people. In fact, people in the small town on the other side of the canal looked like they were taking goods down to the canal. Did you also notice the people and families waiting on the dock? The Erie Canal opened up migration to the west, and it made it much easier to travel to states like Michigan. Much of the reason Michigan has such a diverse culture is due to the construction of the Erie Canal. It wouldn’t be long before roads and railroads would crisscross the country, eliminating the need for the canal. But the canal served its purpose for many years.”

  A Walk through Frontier Detroit

  Detroit—July 1837

  Professor Tuesday put his shoes and socks back on, then stood up and stretched. “Let’s all go for a walk in Detroit to see what it looked like in 1837.”

  The professor started off toward town when Owen shouted, “Hey, where’s Mister Adams?”

  “Oh, no, not again,” Rachel said.

  The professor looked upset, so we all started looking for his nephew. Fortunately, our search didn’t take long. Mister Adams was fast asleep at the base of a tree on the grassy hill. Professor Tuesday gently woke him. As we headed toward town, Mister Adams used sign language to tell us about a dream he had. It was about a cat chasing a big dog.

  Before long, we were standing near the waterfront. Sailing ships and a few steamships crowded the large docks. Workers were taking heavy loads of goods off the ships and carrying them to shore on wagons. As we watched, a loud steamship whistle blew as a boat approached the docks. Sailors tied the ship to big wooden posts and dropped a walkway from the boat to the dock. People milled around on the ship as they started to make their way toward land. Families gathered their children and led them across the walkway and toward us. Many of the travelers were carrying large sacks and luggage.

  The professor stopped and turned toward us, “Detroit was a major port city in 1837. The people who immigrated to Michigan in those days usually came through this very spot. It was a busy city even then. I read that in 1837 about 200,000 people entered and left Detroit.”

  “Where did they go?” Rachel asked.

  “Some of them moved into the state and formed many of the cities and towns we know in our time. Others moved on to the west to join their families as the country began to grow.”

  “How many people lived in Detroit in 1837?” Owen asked.

  “Only about 10,000 lived in the city of Detroit itself,” the professor said. “Wayne County, the county that Detroit is in, had over 23,000.”

  “There are a lot more today,” Owen noted.

  “Professor, do you think that those were immigrants coming off that steamship?” I asked.

  “Many of them may be immigrants,” said the professor. “Some could be traders or people traveling to the territorial capital. In the early 1800s, Michigan was the most popular destination in the country for people who wanted to move west into the frontier.”

  Across the street from us, men were loading animal furs into crates and stacking them near the docks. Others were putting crates on wagons and loading them aboard a sailing ship. I made sure that I watched Mister Adams carefully as we continued to look around.

  Professor Tuesday pointed toward the men working nearby. “The fur trade was big business in early Michigan,” he said. “One of the most important businessmen in his day was John Jacob Astor. His fur business extended throughout the state and into nearby territories. Astor’s main office was here in Detroit, and he had a business on Mackinac Island as well. However, he probably never visited the island himself. He sold off his entire business in 1834 because he was getting old and sick.”

  “So,” Owen said, “there was a big business in Michigan that provided beaver furs. Did they use the furs to make coats?”

  “Most of the furs were used to make hats,” answered the professor, “but beaver hats went out of fashion in about 1850. The industry died off soon after John Jacob Astor sold his business.”

  The professor tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. “Let’s go this way.”

  As we were about to cross the dirt road, what looked like a stagecoach came roaring toward us. Professor Tuesday held out his arms and pushed us all out of the way. Dust from the wheels churned up in clouds all around us. Rachel coughed. Owen sneezed. Mister Adams and I covered our eyes.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

  “If you think it’s a stagecoach, you’re right,” answered the professor. “In 1834 a stagecoach line started between Detroit and St. Joseph, Michigan. Most of the passengers on this line would pick up a steamship in St. Joseph and travel westward. Then, in 1835, two stagecoaches a week traveled between Detroit and Fort Dearborn.”

  “I suppose that Fort Dearborn was in Dearborn, Michigan,” Rachel said. “Isn’t that where the Henry Ford Museum is?”

  “Dearborn, Michigan, and Fort Dearborn are two very different places,” the professor said with a smile. “In the 1800s, Fort Dearborn was what we call Chicago in our time. And, yes, the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village are located in Dearborn, Michigan, but Henry Ford didn’t start collecting items for his museum until the early 1900s.”

  When the road was clear, we crossed. The street was dirty and dusty. Owen sneezed over and over as we walked by large buildings that looked like warehouses. Boxes and barrels were being hauled in and out. People were everywhere as we walked down the street. Some pushed two-wheeled carts. Some were selling vegetables or blankets. Cows, pigs, horses, chickens, geese, and mules were being led along the road. It was very noisy. People along the streets talked in many different languages. It was also very smelly because of all the animals.

  “Here are the animals you wanted to see, Rachel,” the professor said with a smile.

  Rachel held her nose in disgust. “It smells terrible here. And, these aren’t the kinds of animals I wanted to see.”

  Owen and I put our hands over our mouths so we wouldn’t laugh. Mister Adams laughed out loud, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  Professor Tuesday stopped in front of a row of buildings. Some looked to be houses. Most of them were made of wood. A few of them were built with bricks or stone. Laundry was hung over ropes on the porches. Besides houses, some of the other buildings looked like stores. People went in and often came out with baskets full of goods or bundles tied with brown string
.

  Rachel and I were interested in seeing the different clothing people wore in this frontier town. Everywhere you looked there was something different. Even though it was a warm day, most women wore long dresses. None of them wore shorts or pants. Many of the women had bonnets on their heads. Some of the men wore white shirts with ties and a jacket. Boys ran in the street wearing short pants. We thought everybody dressed funny.

  Still, there was much more to see in Detroit.

  The Pothole

  Detroit—July 1837

  As we walked by a narrow alley, we saw children playing with a ball. They were batting it around with sticks in the dirt, chasing back and forth.

  “Looks like they’re playing hockey,” Owen said. “I play on a travel team.”

  “I don’t think they are playing hockey,” Rachel said. “Get real, Owen.”

  The professor stopped and pointed toward the far end of the main street. “Over 150 years from now, the Joe Louis Arena will be built right there.”

  “That’s where the Red Wings play, isn’t it?” Owen asked.

  “Yes, it is,” answered the professor.

  Suddenly a big ruckus broke out down the street. We ran to see what was going on. A man with a bandanna on his head was having a problem. The cart he was pushing down the street was stuck in a deep rut. He was blocking traffic in the road, and people were yelling at him. No matter how hard the man pushed, the cart wouldn’t budge.

  Rachel and I watched Mister Adams as Owen and Professor Tuesday went over to help. They put their backs to the cart as the man pulled from the front. After some pushing and shoving, the cart was out of the rut.

  “Danke,” said the man.

  “Gern geschehen,” said Professor Tuesday.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “He said ‘thank you’ and I said ‘you are welcome’ in German,” answered the professor.

  “Cool,” Owen said. “AH-H-H-CHOOO!”