Migrating to Michigan Page 5

  “Before that,” Rachel said, “you told us that we were going to visit the Franconees … or something like that, but my dad told me that Frankenmuth was a German settlement.”

  “Yes and no,” answered Professor Tuesday. “Germany wasn’t recognized as a country until about 1871. So, people who came from that part of the world didn’t consider themselves as German before that time. The people who settled Frankenmuth were actually Franconians. Franconia is a region in Bavaria in Germany. The word Frankenmuth actually means ‘courage of the Franconians.’”

  “Aren’t there other places around there with the word ‘Franken’ in them? Like Frankenstein or something?” Owen asked.

  The professor wrinkled his brow and chuckled. “Why yes, there is Frankentrost, Frankenlust, and even a Frankenhilf. All of them were established in the Saginaw Valley. Frankenmuth was the first settlement in the area. But, there was no Frankenstein.”

  “That’s kind of funny,” I said, “but I also think it’s funny to give your new home the same name as your old home.”

  “Frankenmuth wasn’t the only community of Germans that did that,” the professor said as he adjusted his glasses twice. “The community of Westphalia was built on the west side of the state on the Grand River. It was originally settled by people from Westphalia in what is now Germany.”

  “I have another question about Frankenmuth,” Owen said. “Why did the Franconians move there in the first place? It was in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Good question,” said Professor Tuesday. “Their original purpose for moving to Michigan was to be missionaries to the Chippewa Indians who lived in the Saginaw Valley. The Franconians purchased 680 acres of land for $2.50 an acre.”

  “You said ‘original purpose’,” I noted. “Did something happen?”

  “The families spent almost all their time building homes and farms. They really didn’t do much else. As for the minister, he was a bit hardheaded. I read in a book that the Franconian minister expected the Chippewa people to come to him. He didn’t travel to meet them. So he probably wasn’t a very good missionary after all.”

  “Near the log building there was a man talking to some Native Americans. Do you think he was the minister?” Rachel asked.

  “I do,” said the professor. “And, the building he was standing in front of was the first church in the community. It was called St. Lorenz. The church is still there today, but not the original building.”

  “The farms were pretty,” Owen said. “And some guys were building something.”

  “I think they were building a farmhouse,” said Professor Tuesday. “The farms the Franconians built in Michigan were different from the farms they had back in Europe. In the old country, farmers lived in villages. Their farmland was usually outside the villages. Each day they would travel from their homes to work at their farms. The settlers in Frankenmuth chose to farm like most Americans did, living right on their farmland.”

  “What was that little building near the house they were building?” Rachel asked.

  “It was probably the outhouse,” answered the professor.

  “What’s that?” Owen asked.

  “Back then people didn’t have bathrooms like we do in our time. They didn’t even have electricity, running water, plumbing, or flush toilets. So, they dug pits into the ground and put outhouses over them.”

  “O-O-Oh,” said Owen.

  “Gross,” said Rachel.

  The professor thought for a moment before continuing. “Did you notice how big the trees were in the forest and how the farms were cleared out of the woods?”

  We nodded our heads.

  “When the people of Frankenmuth first arrived, the whole state was covered in trees. They had to cut down trees and clear the land before they could even plant crops. None of the trees they cut down went to waste. They were used to build the church, homes, and barns of the community. In many communities, immigrants would share a house with someone who already had one until theirs could be built. In other situations, they would live in mud huts, sometimes tents.”

  “I like camping,” I said, “but I don’t think I’d like living in a mud hut or a tent for a long time.”

  Professor Tuesday took a peek at Mister Adams. He could tell his nephew wasn’t happy about being in TIME-OUT. Then the professor asked another question. “Do you recall seeing the pigpen on our visit?”

  “Were the Franconians good pig farmers?” Owen asked.

  “Pigs were pretty important to many early settlers to Michigan. The forest around Frankenmuth had a lot of oak trees. Pigs were fed acorns from the oak trees, so the farmers had a good supply of food for pigs.”

  “I’ll bet they also had chickens,” Rachel said. “My grandma and grandpa love to take us out for chicken dinners in Frankenmuth.”

  “I’m sure they had chickens,” answered the professor with a chuckle.

  “What crops did they grow on their farms?” Owen asked.

  “Mister Adams was helping to pull weeds in a potato field. The early Franconians also grew some cabbage and beets during the first years of the settlement,” the professor added.

  Just then, the professor thought about his nephew in TIME-OUT. He turned to take a look at Mister Adams. Professor Tuesday’s nephew was writing on the wall with a crayon. When he noticed that the professor was looking at him, Mister Adams put his finger by his nose and twisted his hand.

  The professor laughed out loud. “Mister Adams says he’s bored. Maybe we should take another quick trip before we have lunch.”

  He didn’t seem to mind that his nephew had written all over his office wall with a crayon. “You can come out of TIME-OUT now, Mister Adams. But you must not run off again.”

  Mister Adams nodded his head in agreement and climbed down from his chair. He crossed the room and joined us at the table. He seemed to be happy that he was no longer sitting in the corner.

  “What are we going to see next?” I asked.

  “Can we visit Polish immigrants?” Owen asked. “Rachel got to visit Germans. Now it’s my turn. Can we visit the Polish, please, Professor?”

  “Not just yet,” said the professor, “I want you to see something else first.”

  The Dutch

  Holland, Michigan—June 1849

  We got ready for our third trip of the day into history. I was eager to find out where the professor was taking us. When he returned from taking a peek into the past, his hair and beard were all messed up. After he straightened himself, we stepped through the green cloud. Before long, we were standing on the top of some sand dunes. A big, beautiful lake was off in the distance behind us.

  “It’s very windy today in Holland, Michigan,” the professor said.

  “Are we really in Holland?” Rachel shouted above the wind. “Cool, I can’t wait to see the tulips and windmills. My dad even bought me a pair of wooden shoes here when I was little.”

  The professor just smiled and winked twice. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing any tulips, windmills, or wooden shoes. The Dutch have only been here a couple of years. It’s 1849. So, what we see today won’t look much like the Holland, Michigan, of our time.”

  Sand whipped at our backs as Professor Tuesday pulled out his trusty compass. Then he started walking away from the lake and dunes. This time, we all kept a careful eye on Mister Adams. We didn’t want to lose him again.

  Once we got away from the sand dunes, the ground got mucky and swampy. Owen stopped to tie his shoes tightly.

  “I don’t want my shoes to come off,” he said with a weak smile.

  “Good thinking,” said Professor Tuesday.

  “AH-H-H …,” Owen started to sneeze again, but he plugged his nose just in time.

  The farther away we got from the lake and the dunes, the calmer the wind was. We picked our way carefully through the damp, soggy ground and came to a small wooden building. The professor made sure that our Tuesday Translators were on and working. He turned a small knob on each translator
so we could speak and understand Dutch. As we peeked into the window, we saw several children inside, seated at benches. The girls wore dark dresses and had bonnets on their heads. The boys wore kneelength pants and white shirts.

  “It’s a school,” I whispered.

  “That’s right,” Professor Tuesday added quietly. “Let’s listen in for a while.”

  We were surprised to hear English. The teacher was giving a lesson on the alphabet. Each child held a small blackboard and wrote letters with chalk. After the alphabet lesson was over, the teacher spoke in Dutch. Our Tuesday Translators went to work changing the Dutch words into English so we could understand. The class started working on arithmetic … addition and subtraction.

  “Yuck,” Owen said softly, “I don’t like math.”

  “Maybe you’d learn to like math if you did your homework for a change,” scolded Rachel.

  Soon, the professor waved for us to follow him, and we continued exploring. Thick, tall pine trees were everywhere. A strong, woodsy smell filled the air. Mister Adams skipped along as we came to the shore of a smaller lake. We watched a beaver swim out in the water. It carried a long branch in its mouth.

  We followed the shoreline until we came to a clearing. Men were chopping down a tree at the far side. Their axes made loud “thunking” sounds as they dug into the giant tree.

  “Watch this,” said the professor.

  After a few more swings of the axe, the huge tree started making a loud, crunching sound. The men who were cutting the tree quickly grabbed their tools and ran away. Slowly at first, the tree started tipping. Mister Adams put his hands over his ears. When the tree fell, it made a terrible noise as it hit the ground. The earth shook under our feet.

  “Whoa,” Owen said, “that was awesome.”

  The men came out of the woods with their tools and began cutting the limbs off the tree and moving them into large piles. We watched for a while before the professor motioned for us to keep moving.

  At the far end of the lake we saw a field with some crops growing in neat rows. A crude log house sat at the edge of the lake. A man and woman were working in a small garden near the house. We walked along the field, careful not to step on any plants.

  As we passed by the farm house, the professor waved at the man and woman. They waved back, then quickly returned to their work. Mister Adams liked to wave at the people, but we took him by the hand and continued our walk.

  “Just a little farther,” said the professor as he looked around to make sure Mister Adams was still nearby. The professor pointed toward his nephew. Mister Adams was watching a butterfly fluttering to and fro through the wildflowers in a small clearing.

  After we left the field, we came upon a well-worn path that ran east and west. The professor sat on a log, pulled out his pocketknife, and whittled on a stick. Then he started drawing in the dirt with the sharpened end. Professor Tuesday drew a quick map of where we’d been on our trip to Holland in 1849. He pointed out the big lake, the dunes, the schoolhouse, the smaller lake, the place where the men cut down the tree, the farm, and where we were now resting. I wrote some notes in my journal. Owen scribbled a few pictures in his.

  “Is that all there is to see here?” I asked.

  “No,” answered the professor, “I want to rest for a while along this path. Perhaps we’ll meet someone.”

  Just after the professor finished speaking, a man came around a bend on the trail. He was carrying a large bundle and heading toward the town of Holland.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” the professor said. His Tuesday Translator changed the words into Dutch so the man could understand him. “Sit down and join us for a short rest.”

  “Good afternoon,” the man said in Dutch as he lowered his bundle and took a seat on the log. He took off his cap and wiped his brow before speaking. “It is a long walk from Grand Rapids. I am glad to be near my home.”

  “Looks like you purchased some supplies,” the professor said.

  “Yes,” said the man, “some food items, a few small tools, and some fishing hooks.”

  “How’s the fishing?” Owen asked.

  The man smiled. “We catch many fish. My family lives on the fish we catch and small game we hunt. Sometimes my children tell me they are tired of eating fish all the time, so I bought some vegetables for them. I also purchased some seed. This year we will grow our own vegetables.”

  “Did you see any native people?” I asked.

  “No,” said the man as he gathered up his bundle. “We do not see many native people here.” The man lifted his bundle and wished us a good day as he walked off.

  “I think it’s time we be heading back as well,” said the professor. “We have much to talk about.”

  Owen Takes a Trip

  The Professor’s Office—Today

  We followed the path back toward the village of Holland. As we walked, Owen tripped on a tree root and fell flat on his face. When he got up, his lip was bleeding and his glasses were bent. Mister Adams ran to his side and started wiping the dirt off of his shirt.

  “Are you alright?” the professor asked as he rushed to Owen’s side.

  “He’s fine,” Rachel said. “Owen falls down all the time. Like I said before, he doesn’t always tie his shoes, and he’s clumsy. He doesn’t get good grades like I do either.”

  Owen steamed as he looked at Rachel. Then she started up again. “I don’t know why you’re staring at me. Everything I said was true. You’re always a mess, and I am always neat and tidy, just ask my mom.”

  The professor made sure Owen was okay, then we continued down the path. Before long, we were back at the sand dunes. We stepped through the green cloud and tumbled back through time to the professor’s office.

  Professor Tuesday went down the hall and got a wet towel for Owen. As my classmate cleaned himself up, we started talking about what we had seen in early Holland, Michigan.

  “Professor,” I asked, “why did Dutch people migrate to Michigan in the first place?”

  “There are always many reasons why people immigrate to a new place,” said the professor. “The Dutch first came to Michigan in 1847 for religious reasons. They didn’t like some of the things that were going on in their home country. They thought that if they moved to America, they could preserve their culture and their own religious beliefs. Our visit to them took place about two years after they first arrived.”

  “Were they missionaries like the Germans were in Frankenmuth?” Owen asked as he wiped his face.

  “Yes and no,” said the professor as he scribbled some notes on a piece of paper. “Some of their early documents and speeches told of their plans to be missionaries. But, like the Germans in Frankenmuth, they really didn’t do much to spread their religion once they started their settlement.”

  “The school was pretty cool,” said Owen. “They spoke both English and Dutch there.”

  “Very good, my friend,” nodded Professor Tuesday, “you were paying attention.”

  “He doesn’t always do that in class. That’s why he’s always in trouble,” Rachel said.

  Owen hung his head, “Nobody’s perfect, not even you, Rachel.”

  Professor Tuesday looked at Rachel as Miss Pepper does every once in a while, then he spoke. “Schoolhouses in those days had only one or two windows. A door was on one end of the building, and a fireplace or wood-burning stove was at the other. During the first few years of the settlement, the Dutch hired a teacher. Their children were given lessons in both English and Dutch.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well, it seems as though the Dutch wanted to preserve their culture and language. At the same time, they wanted their children to learn English, the language of their new country.”

  “I saw the children writing on little chalkboards,” Owen said. “Didn’t they have paper in those days?”

  “They did have paper,” answered the professor, “but it was far too expensive to be used in school. Children often practiced writing with
chalk on pieces of slate. When they were done with their lessons, they would wipe the slate with a cloth or their sleeves. In some of the poorer areas of the state, children would use sticks and practice their writing in sand or dirt.”

  “When we arrived, there was a big lake on the other side of the sand dunes. After we visited the school, we walked by another lake,” I said. “What were those lakes?”

  “Remember the map I drew in the dirt?” asked the professor. “Well, the lake on the other side of the sand dunes from us was Lake Michigan. The smaller lake we saw was called Black Lake back then. The name was later changed to Lake Macatawa.”

  The professor thought for a minute before he continued. “You may be interested in learning that the French had an influence in how some of the lakes in and around Michigan were named. The French use the word lake before the name of a body of water, like Lake Michigan. The Great Lakes all use the word lake before the name of the lake. Other lakes in the state, such as Higgins Lake, Wixom Lake, and Houghton Lake, do not because they didn’t use French naming for those lakes.”

  “I never knew that,” Owen said. “That’s pretty cool. You know what I liked, professor? I liked seeing that tree get chopped down by those guys.”

  “Just like in Frankenmuth, the Dutch had to cut down trees in order to clear farmland and build houses,” said the professor. Rachel wrote notes as the professor continued. “From what I’ve read, they weren’t very good loggers when they first came to Michigan.”

  “What do you mean?” Owen asked.

  “In the Netherlands, they didn’t have huge forests with tall trees like Michigan did. Cutting down trees is no easy job, and it’s dangerous. Several Dutch settlers were injured very badly cutting down trees. Some were even killed.”