Read Migrating to Michigan Online
Authors: Jeffery L Schatzer
“I don't like the sound of that,” said Owen. Rachel and I nodded our heads in agreement.
We scanned the nearby countryside. “We weren't here that long,” said the professor. “He can't be far.”
We looked up in the trees first. The last time we lost Mister Adams, he had climbed a tree. But, he wasn't in any of the trees nearby. Suddenly, Owen noticed something.
“Look,” he said as he pointed down, “I found some footprints. They're small, so they must be Mister Adams's.”
“Let's see where they take us,” said the professor.
The footprints seemed to be heading back the way we came.
After a long, hard search, we found Mister Adams at the very first farm field we passed in the settlement. He was helping the children pull weeds. His hands and clothes were dirty, and his face was covered in mud. A young boy was working in the field next to the professor's nephew.
The professor spoke to the boy. The Tuesday Translator changed the professor's words so the boy could understand. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”
The words that came out of his mouth were strange to me, but my earpiece told me what he said. The boy said, “You are welcome. Pulling weeds is no fun, but we made a game of it. Your nephew was very helpful.”
The professor took Mister Adams by the hand and gave him a stern look. After a short walk, we all made it back to the teleporter, safe and sound.
W
hen we returned to the professor's office, he put his hands on his hips and scolded his nephew. “Now, Mister Adams, you can't be wandering off like that. I am very upset with you. You could have been lost or hurt. Your mother would be very angry if that happened. So, I'm going to put you in TIME-OUT so you can think about what you have done.”
The professor marched his little nephew over to the corner and pulled up a chair for him. “Now, you stay here. When you've been in TIME-OUT for ten minutes, you can come over and join us.”
Mister Adams gave Professor Tuesday an angry look as he took his seat facing the corner. The rest of us gathered around the table in the professor's office. Owen, Rachel, and I covered our mouths and tried not to giggle out loud.
“Now,” said the professor, “let's talk about Frankenmuth.” The professor shifted in his seat and peeked over to make certain Mister Adams was still in TIME-OUT. “As I said before, there were several German settlements in Michigan. The earliest immigrants from Germany built farms and businesses in and around Detroit, Ann Arbor, and Monroe. Frankenmuth, however, has some very interesting history. The first settlers to Frankenmuth left German soil in April of 1845. The trip across the Atlantic Ocean lasted nine weeks, and it was very dangerous.”
“Like how?” Owen asked.
The professor doodled on a piece of paper with a pencil as he answered. “Well, for several days they sailed through thick fog in the middle of some icebergs.”
“Like the
Titanic
?” I gasped.
“Yes,” said the professor, “traveling across the Atlantic Ocean was very dangerous for many immigrants. The ships were often crowded and uncomfortable. Many of the travelers didn't have enough food for the voyage, some even died from diseases.”
“Like the flu?” Rachel asked. “Many of my father's patients have the flu.”
“There were many diseases aboard the ships. Some of them were quite deadly.”
“That must have been terrible,” Owen said.
The professor nodded his head. “The people who came to settle Frankenmuth first arrived in New York City in June 1845. After months of traveling, they arrived in Saginaw, then they took another boat down the Saginaw River to their settlement on the Cass River. Within a few days, the village of Frankenmuth started to take shape.” The professor put his pencil down and looked at us. “I'm curious about what you saw on our visit to Frankenmuth?” the professor asked as he scratched his hairy chin. “What did you write in your journals?”
“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 âcourage of the Franconians.'”
“Aren't there other places around there with the word âFranken' 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 âoriginal 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.”
W
e 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 â¦,” 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.