Migrating to Michigan (5 page)

“Oops,” said the professor, “I forgot.”

Mister Adams ran up to him and hugged the professor's knees.

The professor patted his nephew on the head. “Its okay, Mister Adams.”

“What's wrong, Professor?” Owen asked.

Professor Tuesday rubbed the back of his neck as he explained. “You see, in the 1800s the streets in Detroit had a lot of potholes. The people who lived near big ruts, like the one back there, claimed the right to help pull wagons out of the mud for a price. So, when we helped that German fellow get his wagon out of the mud, the property owner got angry because he lost a chance to make some extra money.”

“Crazy,” said Owen. “You're telling me that people actually owned the potholes in front of their houses, and they got paid for helping push wagons out of them?”

“That's right,” said the professor. “It's kind of like owning a tow truck business in our time.”

“I've got an uncle who lives in Utica,” Rachel said. “He claims they've got potholes there that can eat an entire car.”

We laughed as we continued our walk through the frontier town of Detroit. Rachel took careful notes of everything she saw and heard. Owen mostly drew pictures in his journal. Now and then I looked over to make sure Mister Adams was following us. He was being very good. Maybe babysitting him wouldn't be too bad after all.

Professor Tuesday stopped in front of another building and looked inside. Smoke poured out of a chimney on the roof. The professor waved us over to take a look. Heat from inside the building washed over us as we got near the door. Men with long aprons were working by a furnace. Others were pounding metal into shape and working on large pieces of steel. The metal was red hot and they were using big hammers to make it into a circular shape. Glowing sparks flew with each strike of their hammers.

“We'd better be going now. There are other places I want to visit today. Before we leave, let's take a look at that building,” the professor said as he crossed the street.

A
s we walked along, Owen stepped on one of his loose shoelaces and tripped over Mister Adams.

Professor Tuesday ran to Owen's side. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Owen picked himself up. “I'm fine. It seems like I fall a lot.” Owen bent down and tied his loose shoelaces.

“It's because you are a clumsy oaf,” Rachel said. “And your shoes are always untied.”

Owen gave Rachel an angry stare.

“Now, now,” said the professor. “Let's try to get along here.”

We walked toward a large building outside of town. Professor Tuesday shrugged his shoulders twice as he continued. “There are many reasons I wanted you to see Detroit in 1837. Besides seeing immigrants coming to Michigan, 1837 was the year that Michigan became a state.”

The professor pointed to a building. “That building is the capitol building of Michigan. It was built in 1828. Back then people complained that the capitol building was too far from town. However, the city grew rapidly as immigrants poured into the state searching for opportunity.”

“I thought the state capital was in Lansing?” Rachel asked.

“It is in our time,” replied the professor. “It was moved from Detroit to Lansing in 1848.”The professor scratched his chin and looked over at Owen as he thought. “I'll bet you didn't know that Michigan had a boy governor in 1837.”

“Really?” Owen asked.

“Yes, his name was Stevens T. Mason,” answered the professor. “He was named the Territorial Secretary by President Andrew Jackson when he was only nineteen years old. He became Michigan's first elected governor in 1835 when he was only twenty-four.”

The professor stopped walking for a moment. “When Mason was the Territorial Secretary, he did a lot to encourage immigrants to come to Michigan. The U.S. government required that a territory have at least 60,000 settlers before it would consider the territory to become a state. Partially because of population growth and partially because of the boy governor's efforts, Michigan became a state in 1837.”

“Maybe I could be the governor some day,” Owen said proudly.

“You'd have to stop being such a nerd first,” Rachel shot back.

“Rachel! Would you just cool it?” I said.

Suddenly, we heard some shouting. It was coming from down the street. A crowd of people quickly gathered. Mister Adams headed off to investigate, and we all followed. The professor's nephew worked his way through the noisy crowd to see what was happening.

In the middle of the ring of people, two men were wrestling around on the ground. Back and forth they went. The crowd shouted to them in different languages. As the fight went on, one of the men broke free and picked up a rock that had been in the dirt road. The noisy crowd went silent. Everyone realized that the argument had turned very dangerous.

The fighters circled each other cautiously. The man with the rock held it above his head, ready to strike. Then, something amazing happened. A woman in a dirty apron pushed her way through the crowd and walked right up to the man with the rock. I couldn't understand what she said to him, but she grabbed his ear and twisted it. The man dropped the rock instantly, and everyone laughed as the woman led him away by his ear.

Professor Tuesday smiled broadly. “As you can see, immigrants didn't always get along with each other. Different customs and ways of life caused problems.” The professor stopped and looked directly at Owen and Rachel. “Sooner or later we all have to learn to get along.”

As we walked we saw some strange looking buildings. There were warehouses, homes, and stores right next to each other.

It seemed like Professor Tuesday knew what I was thinking. “Homes, stores, and hotels were often built right next door to each other. They didn't have malls back then.”

“Animals wandering around all over the place and no malls,” Rachel said. “I'm glad I didn't live in Michigan in 1837.”

“Business was booming in Detroit back then,” said the professor. “There were also hotels and boarding houses in Detroit in 1837. With so many immigrants coming to and through Detroit, they needed places to stay while they conducted their business.”

“What kind of business did people do in Detroit?” Rachel asked.

“Well,” answered the professor, “People would go to deposit money at the banks. These deposits were usually used to purchase land at a later date. Plus, the land office was a very popular place for people who wanted to settle in Michigan.”

“Didn't the native people own the land?” Rachel asked.

“It would seem so,” said Professor Tuesday. “However, treaties and agreements were made with tribes throughout the territory to purchase land.

“I'm surprised to see all those farms outside of town and around the capitol building. That's strange,” Owen noted.

“Many farms in and around Detroit in the early 1800s were owned by the French,” said Professor Tuesday. “Some of the early French men married Native American women. Those marriages often helped them establish good relationships with local Native Americans. That way, they could farm or trade furs in peace.”

“Professor, can we visit some immigrant settlements now?” I asked

“Yes we can,” the professor answered. “I think we should visit the settlements of the Franconians.”

“I thought we were going to visit a settlement of Germans,” Rachel said. “Who are the Franconians?”

“We shall see,” said the professor with a smile, “we shall see.”

As we headed back to the Tuesday Teleporter, Mister Adams took off after a chicken that was wandering around in the street. The chicken ran in circles with the professor's nephew close behind. Mister Adams was fast, but the chicken was faster. It was a very funny sight.

We took a look around Detroit in 1837 one last time before we stepped back through the teleporter.

O
nce we got back to the professor's office, he took cheese sticks out of his desk and offered one to each of us. Then he set to work programming our next trip into his computer. “We will be visiting Frankenmuth next,” he said.

“Traveling through time sure makes me hungry,” Owen said. Mister Adams gave him a big thumbs-up.

After the shower of lights and sounds filled the room, the green cloud formed once again. “Let's go,” said the professor. Then he stopped suddenly. “Oh, heavens, I almost forgot.” The professor quickly returned to his desk and opened the top drawer. He reached inside and grabbed some strange looking objects. He adjusted each of the objects before putting one over his ear. Then he put one on Mister Adams before handing one to me, one to Rachel, and another to Owen.

“My dad uses one of these when he's driving and wants to talk on his cell phone,” Rachel said. “You know, my father is a doctor.”

“Yes, I remember you told me that during your last visit,” said the professor. “You are very smart. And, yes, this does look like one of those devices people use to talk on cell phones. However, these are Tuesday Translators. Put them over your ears and they will translate other languages to English. They will also translate whatever you say into different languages. I have adjusted them so that we will all be able to understand and speak German.”

The professor turned to his desk once more. He came back with a piece of rope. He tied one end around Rachel's middle and the other around Mister Adams. “Now,” the professor said to Rachel, “it's your turn to watch Mister Adams. This time it will be harder for him to wander off.”

Finally, we went through the teleporter once again.

After our tumbling ride, we stepped out of the green cloud and into a swampy area near a river. A Native American woman saw us from the other side of the river and ran away. I think we scared her. Her screams scared us, too. Professor Tuesday had us crouch down quietly for a few minutes. I wasn't worried at all. However, Owen looked frightened.

We waited for a while, then the professor took out his compass and he pulled an old map out of his pocket. He unfolded it carefully and placed the compass on it. Professor Tuesday turned himself until the needle on the compass pointed to the north mark.

“Do you think we are in trouble with the native people?” Owen asked.

“No,” said the professor as he looked up from his map, “the Chippewa Indians who live in this area are usually friendly. I think we just scared her a little, that's all. This way,” the professor said, as he pointed away from the river.

We followed the professor. The rope around Rachel's waist tightened. She turned to find Mister Adams throwing rocks into the river.

“C'mon, Mister Adams,” she said. “We need to follow the professor.” The professor's nephew scowled and started walking along with us.

In a short time, we came to a farm field. Rows of plants were growing in the dark soil. A woman and three children were hoeing weeds from around the plants. They looked up when we approached. One of the children shouted something as he pointed toward us, and the woman spoke to them.

The Tuesday Translator in my ear sparked to life. “Look, mother,” a young-sounding voice echoed, “there are some other children. Can we play?”

Though she spoke in a language I didn't know, I understood everything she said. “Children, we have much work to do. There is no time for play.”

The family went back to work as we continued our journey through early Frankenmuth. At the far end of the field, men were building a log home. They were cutting long logs with axes and saws. Then they fit the pieces together to make walls. With a new log in place, they packed mud between the logs to fill in the empty spaces. It looked like hard work.

Behind the men was a small building standing all by itself. I wondered what it was. Thick forests surrounded each of the farms we passed. I guess we walked by three or four farms before we came upon a finished log building. A man stood out in front talking with two Native Americans. I couldn't hear what they were saying because they were too far away. The man talking to the two native people was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. He wore a black hat even though it was warm outside.

The professor raised his fingers to his lips. “Sh-h-h,” he whispered. “Let's stay here and watch what happens.”

We stood together in the shade of a grove of trees. Birds flew overhead and insects danced in the air. Not much was happening. The native people walked away and the man who was talking with them went into the building. Professor Tuesday signaled us that it was time to do a little more exploring.

We started walking away, but Rachel was stopped by the rope around her middle. When she turned back to tell Mister Adams to follow us, she was surprised.

Somehow Mister Adams had untied himself while we were watching the man and the native people. While we weren't paying attention to him, he tied his end of the rope around a tree. When Rachel started walking away, she couldn't go very far. The two of us looked around carefully as the professor and Owen started off. However, we didn't see Mister Adams anywhere.

“Oh, no, Professor,” my friend said. “Mister Adams untied himself. Now he's gone again.”

Professor Tuesday looked shocked when he saw that Mister Adams had taken off his rope and tied it to a tree. We all quickly looked through the woods we were hiding in, but we couldn't see the professor's nephew anywhere.

“I'm sorry,” Rachel said to the professor. “I thought he was standing by me all the time.”

“That little stinker sure is smart,” said the professor. “I am not angry with you, I'm upset with Mister Adams. Though it is not too dangerous here, we must find him quickly. The Tuesday Teleporter will only stay open so long. If it closes before we get back, we'll be stuck in this time.”