Wisconsin Stories is a partnership
of the Wisconsin Historical Society
and Wisconsin Public Television.
Tracy Will: Four small towns.
Each started with a plan.
Each shaped by its people.
Next, on Wisconsin Stories.
Funding for Wisconsin Stories is provided in part
by an advised fund of the Community Foundation of Southern Wisconsin;
the Estate and family of Lois Backus;
the Halbert and Alice Kadish Foundation;
and Philip J. and Elizabeth B. Hendrickson
encouraging you to support history
on Wisconsin Public Television
and to visit Wisconsin's treasured historic sites.
Have you ever walked through your town
and wondered how it got there?
Communities start for a number of reasons
like access to transportation, proximity of resources
or simply, a group of like-minded individuals
wanting to live together.
I'm Tracy Will.
And I'm Debbie Kmetz.
On this episode of Wisconsin Stories
we visit four Wisconsin towns
all very different
but each of them started for very specific reasons.
Our itinerary includes a company-owned town
a government-built town
and an African-American resort town.
But we start with a Swiss town
New Glarus, Wisconsin.
Kmetz: Alpine horns fill the air.
? ?
Swiss flags reach the sky.
( horns continue )
Yodels are being yodeled.
? ?
They're all Swiss traditions
kept alive in New Glarus, Wisconsin
where they've gathered to open a new exhibit
at the Swiss Historical Village.
It tells the story of an improbable journey
to the American frontier
and how a Swiss town prospered in America
but still kept its traditions alive.
Traditions that would help keep the town alive
when times got hard.
The story starts here, in Glarus, Switzerland.
It's 1845, and times are desperate.
New technology has put hundreds of textile workers out of work
and a blight has destroyed the potato crop.
Faced with over-population
the government offers to buy land in America
if a party of immigrants is willing to go.
Two scouts are sent
to purchase cheap government land in Missouri.
Back in Switzerland, the nearly 200 immigrants
who will build the new town are anxious to go.
Despite no word from the scouts
they leave for the coast and the open sea.
And for 49 miserable, wretched days
they were on the Atlantic.
Not a good voyage? No.
It was stormy weather most of the time.
The food went bad, it went rancid.
Ships provisions seem contrived
not entirely to kill human beings
yet to make them very sick.
Kmetz: They arrive in Baltimore only to begin another journey
by train, canal and river boat into the heart of a new world.
( accordion music and singing )
The evening we arrived at Pittsburgh
as we floated into the city
our singers sang several Swiss songs
which attracted hundreds of people.
( singing continues )
Kmetz: Meanwhile, the scouts have had no luck at St. Louis.
The cheap government land in Missouri is sold out.
I believe the postmaster in St. Louis said
"If you're looking for that much land
"and you want people to settle together
you should go to the territories."
Kmetz: While the scouts explore Wisconsin territory
the immigrants arrive in St. Louis
expecting to find them.
Marty: They were in quite a quandary.
They didn't know what to do.
They decided to send two scouts
or agents, to find the scouts.
They sent two more scouts to find the original scouts?
Right, exactly.
Kmetz: The new scouts follow the trail to Mineral Point
where they learn land had been purchased
30 miles east on the Sugar River.
One of the new scouts is Mathias Duerst.
It is beautiful, beyond expectation.
Excellent timber, good soil, many fine springs
and a stream filled with fish.
Kmetz: By now, the impatient immigrants were steaming upriver to Galena
where a joyful reunion was held.
I joined myself to the crowd
and was also greeted with glad shouts.
Kmetz: The last miles of their long journey were on foot.
And they began building
a Swiss town on the prairie
with houses clustered in a village
and farm fields surrounding.
Not that farming came easily.
They kind of had to learn farming as they went
because they hadn't been farmers in Switzerland
they had been textile workers
and jobs related to the textile industry.
Kmetz: Wheat was king in Wisconsin.
And immigrants used to little potato patches
planted large fields and their farms grew.
When the state's Ag economy
evolved to dairying
imported traditions helped the Swiss.
As these artifacts show
the Swiss had traditionally made cheese in small batches.
In America, large-scale production
was feeding growing markets
and the region became famous for its Swiss cheese.
After 70 years, New Glarus was proud
and prosperous enough to dedicate this memorial
to the scouts and pioneers.
And a new canned milk plant
promised better prices and more prosperity.
Gmur: Farmers sent their milk
to the new plant.
Instead of to cheese factories.
Instead of cheese factories.
And of course, it wasn't long
before the small cheese factories couldn't compete.
As the leading milk buyer and largest employer
the plant dominated the town's economy.
Eventually, refrigeration diminished the market
for canned milk
and the plant closed in 1962.
What did that mean to the economy?
For the first few years, it really shook the town.
But then, several people, business people
started thinking that perhaps tourism
might take its place
or at least help the economy.
Kmetz: The town had long held on to its Swiss identity
and immigrants had continued to come.
Doris Arn came here in the '60s
and soon realized the importance of traditions.
Doris Arn: If I would have stayed in Switzerland
I would have never in my life worn a Swiss costume.
I wouldn't have wanted to be seen in one of those.
You go to another country
you kind of uphold your heritage, where you're from.
I think my father couldn't believe I would wear that
or that my husband would ever be in a yodel club.
Kmetz: Yodel clubs and dancers
bell ringers and singers had kept Swiss culture
alive in New Glarus for over a century.
With the milk plant gone
this heritage was developed as a resource.
The Swiss Historical Village was expanded
and the downtown
which had been like any other small Wisconsin town
took on the look of an alpine village.
The town was advertised as "America's Little Switzerland"
and became a thriving tourist destination.
But there is a risk to advertising your heritage.
It can get too commercialized.
I hope we don't get too big with it
because then it cheapens it.
Kmetz: From a tiny village surrounded by wheat fields
to a cheese exporter
to this sunny day of yodeling
the New Glarus story
has been one of Swiss traditions
combined with American know-how.
Will: The shores of quiet Lake Ivanhoe
were home to a dream
the vision of prominent Chicago African Americans
seeking recreational opportunities
equal to their economic status.
Like so many others from Chicago
they came to the rustic Wisconsin countryside.
And in the 1920s, built a resort town
of their very own.
Samuel Gonzalez: These were very much middle-class
well-educated people
who had really no place to go for recreation
where they could get away from the discrimination
and the reminders of race.
Will: Reminders of race were ever present in Chicago.
The great migration of sharecropping families
moving north from the rural south
intensified white backlash.
Realtors had red-lined Chicago.
And you had-- If you were black
you had to live in a certain area.
Will: Assistant City Attorney Jeremiah Brumfield
and his associates envisioned a retreat
where African Americans
could enjoy fresh air, rest and quiet.
And their idea was
"Let's build a community for people like ourselves."
Will: They were familiar with the Michigan community, Idlewild
one of many Black-owned resorts around the country.
In Chicago, summer racial riots over segregated beaches
had killed dozens
so lakefront property
away from the city's racial tensions
may have struck them as a good investment.
To buy land near the whites-only resort of Lake Geneva
they found Ivan Bell
a white realtor willing to represent them.
Lake Ivanhoe was named in his honor.
Gonzalez: Their dream was to make it every bit
as glitzy and welcoming for black people
as Lake Geneva was for white people.
Will: As at Idlewild, Lake Ivanhoe's centerpiece would be
a lavish lakeside pavilion built to feature dancing
and top-notch entertainment.
They subdivided the land into lots
and gave the streets names celebrating black history.
There was money coming in.
These gentleman had good jobs.
And they found people
like the Mercers
who were some of the first to buy property out there.
Linda Vance: This is Gramps on his Harley.
Look at how he's dressed.
Oh, he's a dapper. He's a haberdasher.
He's got his bow tie on.
He's clean as the board of health.
Beloit teacher Linda Vance commutes from Lake Ivanhoe
where her grandparents brought her mother Gwendolyn
in the 1920s.
My mother was an only child.
They had her late in life and she was sickly.
The doctors told them
if you don't get her out of the city, she's gonna die.
Will: As the Mercers built their house
things looked promising for the fledgling resort.
Gonzalez: From 1926, 1927...
1928... many, many lots were sold.
And then 1929 came, and of course, the Depression hit.
Will: The lakeside pavilion couldn't stay in business
and property sales plummeted.
The vision of an exclusive lake resort vanished.
But the Mercers stayed.
And by 1937, realtors were again selling Lake Ivanhoe
as an African-American community.
Madison restaurant owner Barbara Golden
grew up in this independent black community.
It was a community
that reinforced working hard
and doing the right thing.
Staying out of trouble.
That's a big thing, staying out of trouble.
I learned that lesson well.
And respect for your elders.
It was very much like a southern community.
There were certain people
who were pillars of the community.
And it's run by the elders, and very much run by them
where they keep everybody in line.
Will: The town was a mix of year-round families
and those that summered there
as well as a mix of incomes.
In the segregated south, everybody had to live together.
You couldn't isolate yourself from your poor brethren.
You had to live with them.
So, in a sense, Lake Ivanhoe was that same type of community.
But here, it was in the north
where you had property owners living side by side
with those who they were renting to.
Will: Property is selling once again today in Lake Ivanhoe.
The many open lots make an attractive place to build a home
not far from the expanding regions
of Milwaukee and Chicago.
I'd say for 20 years, there was never a house built.
Now, all of a sudden, there are houses going up like crazy.
All day long, you hear hammers.
Will: These newcomers have changed the mix of what had been
almost exclusively a black and inter-racial enclave.
But the founders' desire
to recognize African American achievement
is still realized in the names of the streets
where those new homes are built.
Vance: Whoever decided to name these streets
after famous historical black institutions
people, or whatever
were ahead of their time.
Those kind of things weren't happening.
Even if I leave
I will always remember that I lived on Tuskegee.
And it's historical to me and to my people.
Kmetz: Up in woodsy Bayfield county
you'll find Drummond, a former lumber town
that today
boasts this new library and museum.
The building was designed to evoke the old company store
so it's a perfect place to learn
about the home economics of life in a company town.
Josephine Miller has brought
a fistful of her father's old pay receipts.
My family wonders why I keep this stuff.
Kmetz: We're glad she did
because they paint a picture of the time in Drummond
when the lumber company dominated daily life
when rent, the cost of firewood
and water for wash day
were taken right from your paycheck.
Miller: So, he worked one month
and he got $75.00 for working.
And then, the rent was $5.50.
And that was for a company house.
That was a company house.
All the houses were bought--
were owned by Rust Owen Lumber Company.
Kmetz: Rust...
and Owen and their families
had bought thousands of acres of pristine forest.
In 1882, they hired Frank Drummond to build a mill.
And the town that would bear his name
would also be their property.
It was built in the middle of the great pine forest
that blanketed northern Wisconsin.
Ed Olsen: In those days, where the big timber was
the sun never really pierced through.
And so many places
you wouldn't even get grass or bushes to grow.
It was just pine, and that was it.
You almost feel like the trees were closing in on you
claustrophobia, in other words.
Kmetz: These huge trees supplied the mill
which made them into board lumber
shingles, boxes
and leftovers used to build workers' houses.
They didn't waste a thing, brother.
So, the lumber that they couldn't sell
they used to build these houses?
Yeah, when you go to put new siding on the house
and you tear the old siding off
you got cracks in it about that wide.
The siding wasn't tight.
The wind kind of blew right in.
Was it a little cold in the wintertime?
Oh, a lot of covers--
I tell you, you slept close with the wife, you know.
Kmetz: But the fact that the company built these houses
made Drummond more than a workplace.
It was, for its workforce of mostly Norwegian immigrants
a place to bring or start a family.
As the men labored in the mill or in the woods
the wives would tend gardens, cows
chickens and children.
Ed Olson: Most of them had big families.
They had enough to do.
Families ran big, anywhere from five
to eight, nine children for a family.
The women had plenty to do.
Kmetz: Ten, even 12-hour days
were standard, six days a week.
In summer, the mill ran.
In winter, the trees were cut, brought to the mill on sleds
and later by railroad
with temporary tracks laid at each new cutting area.
It was a hard life
of nearly endless labor.
Olson: You couldn't hardly believe people lived that way.
Kmetz: That way of life went on for years.
And Rust Owen's holdings
expanded to more than 80,000 acres
yet it could never be enough to go on forever.
Olson: Millions and millions of board feet of lumber.
Eventually, it runs out.
It doesn't grow as fast as you can cut it.
Kmetz: In the '20s, the landscape had changed
and so had Drummond.
For the first time, new businesses opened
that weren't owned by Rust Owen.
Kmetz: I bet you know a lot about this picture.
That picture is of the Drummond Auto Company.
It was built by my father in 1923.
I'm sure it lead to a great deal of independence.
Prior to this, people--
Most of the people in town married the girl down the street
because they couldn't get out to find anybody else.
Kmetz: The '20s brought a new mobility
and connection to the outside world
while the mill's time was drawing to a close.
Ironically, when the Great Depression came
it may have kept Drummond from disappearing.
In 1930, the last log was cut.
But the mill remained open for a time
since inventory sold out slowly.
The U.S. Forest Service bought up Rust Owen's land
and along with the New Deal's Civilian Conservation Corps
hired workers to replant and restore the forest.
Olson: Good experience.
It was tough, but good.
The best way I can put it.
Kmetz: And tough, but good
may be the best way to describe that early life in Drummond.
We all went through
hard times, good times and better times.
It was great.
Kmetz: The work of the CCC and Forest Service
literally brought new life to the area
as Drummond, and its company houses
are once again surrounded by tall trees.
Will: If you walk through downtown
in the Milwaukee suburb of Greendale
you'll think you're in a quaint, old-fashioned small town.
But take a tour
into the nearby residential areas
and you'll learn that Greendale
was conceived as an experiment in modern living
reflecting the most progressive
urban planning, landscape architecture
and social renewal philosophies of the 1930s.
Who built all these buildings?
This was built by the government.
They planned this whole community.
It was a WPA project
to try to keep people working.
It was an experimental program.
They did three of these in the United States.
One at Green Hills, Ohio, Greenbelt, Maryland,
and Greendale, Wisconsin.
Will: These Greenbelt towns
were built in the midst of the Great Depression
when millions were out of work.
But they were more than work projects.
Roosevelt's Resettlement Administration
sought an antidote to the overcrowding
and dilapidated conditions
of urban areas like Milwaukee.
The plan was to build an entire town from scratch
within commuting distance to Milwaukee's industries.
The greenbelt idea preserved undeveloped space
between the new town and the big city.
So, in 1938, Greendale took shape among the farm fields.
For about 500 mostly working-class families
it was a dream come true.
I was so happy when we got the letter
that we were accepted.
Esther West, her factory-worker husband and two children
moved here from a cramped Milwaukee apartment in 1938.
West: My children told me
they couldn't thank me enough for coming to Greendale.
My daughter never crossed the street
from the time she went to kindergarten
until she graduated from high school.
Will: She didn't have to cross any streets
because of Greendale's unique layout.
There are only a few through streets
and all homes are on cul-de-sacs
that connect to walking paths.
It meant kids could have their run of the town
as long as they stayed out of trouble.
Were there a lot of kids to play with?
Oh, yes. Kids were all over the place.
Kids ever get in trouble? Oh, yeah.
But what was trouble?
In those days, trouble was taking the cap off of a tire.
You know, the little air stem.
Letting the air out? That was about it.
Pranks. Yeah, just pranks.
What would happen if you got caught?
Art Krieger, who was one of the originals.
And he usually would be pretty tough.
And he'd end it by coming...
He'd growl at you guys?
Well, he'd ground you.
He'd put you in your yard and say
"If you come out, I'll tell your parents what you did."
You had to do this for a period of maybe four days.
Will: At least the yards were big.
Greendale became renowned for its gardens
although they could lead a kid to more mischief.
James Strange, III: Gardens--
There were gardens all over the place.
And standard equipment when I was growing up
say, from the time I was five until I was 12 years old
was a salt and pepper shaker and a knife in your pocket
so you could hit the gardens.
Cucumbers, tomatoes...
This former fire chief knows that a main goal
of Greendale's plan was public safety.
Not only has there never been a pedestrian fatality
but none of the original homes has ever burned down.
Strange: Very few fires in those houses.
They're built like bomb shelters.
Will: Pretty much a well-built house?
Oh, yes. Like a fort.
These things were built by the federal government to last.
Will: And last they have.
The cinder block construction was inexpensive, but sturdy.
Most homes still have these original clay tile roofs.
The federal government not only built Greendale
but maintained it
in effect, becoming landlord for a whole town.
Schroedl: In the early years, when you were renting
some of the parents were working
and they weren't always home.
You had to take your key to school with you.
If you forgot your key, you'd go to the Village Hall.
They had an extra set of keys hanging on the wall.
And then, Mrs. Strong, who was the clerk at that time
she would always give you a piece of her mind.
If we couldn't find anybody at the Village Hall
we'd beat on the coal shoot with our fists, pop that latch.
and we'd crawl down through the coal bin
and get in that way.
We were a mess, but it was a lot of fun.
Will: The efficient design
put the coal shoot near the street
feeding a bin in the front utility room
that also housed a furnace, water heater
and washing machine.
The design received much attention
even from Eleanor Roosevelt.
Birmingham: When Eleanor came to town
she said she could tell a man designed this
because they have a coal shoot right next to the cleaning area.
She insisted that we get a door on that coal bin
so the women wouldn't have problems with the coal dust.
Yes, that was Eleanor's idea.
Will: The layout earned Greendale homes an unusual nickname.
"Backward houses."
And while Greendale's houses may look backward
Greendale's planners were clearly forward looking.
While the government lost interest in the project
after World War II
the town continued to grow.
Homes were sold to the renters first
and then offered to veterans.
Much of the greenbelt around the town
was developed to increase the tax base
and the greater Milwaukee area expanded
to Greendale's borders and beyond.
But the town remains an enclave of parks and pathways
tidy homes and gardens
and civic pride.
Schroedl: This community
has been this way for so many years.
It's been planned. It's been worked on.
People live here because they like the way it was planned
the way it was worked out.
And that's why we're keeping it this way.
[Captioning services provided by Wisconsin Public Television.] www.wpt.org
Funding for Wisconsin Stories is provided in part
by an advised fund of the Community Foundation of Southern Wisconsin;
the Estate and family of Lois Backus;
the Halbert and Alice Kadish Foundation;
and Philip J. and Elizabeth B. Hendrickson
encouraging you to support history
on Wisconsin Public Television
and to visit Wisconsin's treasured historic sites.