Up North: The Development of Recreation in the St. Croix Valley (continued)

The Lost Tribe of the Chippewas

While recreation offered a large segment of the population a break from the burdensome cares of the 1930s, increased recreation was another invasion into traditional Native American life. Oddly enough, one of the features that made the North Woods so enticing to people further south was that Indians still lived, hunted, and fished in the area. Their presence added to the "local color." However, with tourists flocking to the area, Native Americans experienced another intrusion of whites disrupting what traditional lifestyle they had been able to maintain. Over fifty years before, a band of Chippewa's refused to settle on a reservation at Lac Court Oreilles with several other tribes. They wanted their own separate reservation. When this was not granted, this "Lost Tribe" simply continued to wander through the country around the headwaters of the St. Croix River to hunt and fish as they always had. As late as 1919 the tribal chiefs petitioned Governor Emanuel L. Philipp for their own reservation. The governor apparently took some interest in their plight and initiated some steps to obtain land for them. The plan, however, was never carried out. "Of late years," wrote the Wausau Record-Herald in 1936, "tourists and summer resorters have been buying the lake frontage and land along the St. Croix river, and ‘The Lost Band' is becoming restricted to less desirable camping grounds." Unlike earlier periods, the newspaper expressed sympathy for the Indians. "Where once they were free to roam the forests and plains of all part of the territory," it wrote, "they are no longer welcome in many of the settled portions. . .Their hunting grounds are being usurped by peaceful tourists and summer resorts. . .and the Indians numbering 250 adults and their children are practically without a home. . .They are. . .unable to take up agriculture, having no permanent lands." [205]

These laments, however, did not stem the tide of tourists. With the return of prosperity during World War II, the civilian population had discretionary money. Works Progress Administration guides and the writings of the likes of Wisconsin historian Louise Phelps Kellogg lured many people northward. Kellogg, the librarian for the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, produced several books that made available to the general public the original journals and letters of the first European explorers of the Great Lakes — Upper Mississippi region. From these accounts a new appreciation was born for the culture and traditions of Wisconsin's native peoples. [206]

In 1942, Kellogg described a Wisconsin landscape that was much different from the war-like images of decimation used to describe the region in years past. "Passing from south to north Wisconsin's face changes from the smiling quiet of cultivated fields, through the lands of the cutover plains and marshes, to the Lakeland of the North," she wrote. "Here are literally hundreds of lakes, which attract visitors from all the Mississippi Valley to enjoy fishing, game hunting in the autumn, and well-kept resorts, where Indian guides can be secured for canoe or land trips of many miles. This land o' lakes is the playground not only of Wisconsin, but of the Middle West." [207]

While all the reforestation, fire control efforts, and establishment of state and federal forests and park, helped restore much of the land of the St. Croix River Valley to what it was before logging and settlement, they put an end to the abundant blueberry harvests of the cutover lands much to the dismay of those who remembered gorging themselves during blueberry picking season. The treeless, brushy meadowlands of the cutover made a perfect habitant for the berries that liked warm, acid, sandy soil and full sunlight. When the trees once again began to grow and cast their shadows over the forest floor, blueberries could no longer grow. Although the trend in recent years had been to restore the natural landscape, in 1968 federal, state, and county forest departments along with the Soil Conservation Service and the University of Wisconsin Extension divisions met to discuss the loss of blueberry habitat and its effect on wildlife management, especially sharptailed grouse and prairie chickens. They agreed to look into wild blueberry management as a managed commercial crop. [208]

Extra cash gave vacationers not only the opportunity to travel, but also provided some with the possibility of owning their own cottage. By the 1940s the demand for summer cottages created a market for vacation homebuilders. How-to-books and manuals on building a vacation home had been around since the early part of the century. But by the 1930s more began to appear. In 1934, the first edition of Popular Science Monthly, How to Build Cabins, Lodges, and Bungalows: Complete Manual of Constructing, Decorating, and Furnishing Homes for Recreation or Profit was published. It competed with Ralph P. Dillon's very popular Sunset Cabin Plan Book that had reached its sixth edition in 1938. [209] The National Plan Service out of Chicago published a promotional booklet of models and floor plans of forty-eight cottages encouraging its readers to "invest in health and happiness." "Take your family away from the grind, routine, and rush of the city," they recommend, "to the beautiful lakes, the cool shaded forests, and the invigorating air of the country." Those interested could purchase a blueprint of any of the models offered, or have the National Plan Service design one. Models ranged from modest, rustic-looking one-room cottages to five room retreats, equipped with baths, eat-in nooks, and porches. Some were intended for family use, others were designed for resort operators. [210]

In the post war years the St. Croix and Namekagon River valleys secured their place among fishing enthusiasts. Its vast lakes and streams teamed with boaters, sportsmen, and fish. When Cal Johnson, an outdoor writer and Hayward booster captured a world record Musky in 1949, Hayward declared itself the "Musky Capital of the World." At a dinner honoring Johnson's prize catch, local resort operators suggested an annual festival to celebrate the town's claim to fame. Out of this came the National Musky Festival Association that worked over the winter to present the town with a three-day festival the next June. The festival was a resounding success, attracting over five thousand visitors "despite the fact that it was a miserably cold day." The popularity and challenge of Musky fishing prompted the Wisconsin state legislature to pass a joint resolution adopting the musky as the official state fish. Hayward received the distinction of hosting the dedication ceremony. [211]

Another visionary for the recreational development of the north woods was Hayward-native Anthony Wise. When stationed in the Bavarian Alps during the Second World War, Wise conceived of a project that would invigorate the depressed climate of northern Wisconsin — an alpine skiing resort. As a 1947 Harvard Business School graduate Wise was keenly aware of the fact that while tourist dollars came to the area with the warm weather, they left like departing flocks of geese for the south before winter chills set in. Alpine skiing was a bit foreign to some Wisconsinites, but Scandinavian immigrants had introduced skikjoring, or skiing, to the region in the mid-nineteenth century in Minnesota. By the 1880s, ski-jumping clubs had been organized in Minneapolis and Red Wing, Minnesota. And in 1883, the Skiing Association of the Northwest was organized. By the 1930s, Minnesotans enjoyed the "Winter Sports Week," which included a variety of activities, including hockey, skiing, skating, ice boating, curling, tobogganing, bobsled and sleighing parties, snow sculpture, and costume parades. While Wisconsinites were warming to these outdoor activities, WPA authors noted that they were a bit behind their Minnesota counterparts. "The winter scene began to change shortly before the Second World War," wrote Wisconsin historian Richard Current. [212]

These developments gave Wise confidence that the sport would take off in the Midwest. Wise proved to be not only a dreamer but also a shrewd businessman. In 1947, he wrote a report to the Hayward Chamber of Commerce completed with facts and figures of the potential of developing a ski resort in the area.

Based on his analysis of a survey conducted by the Charles W. Hoyt Company of New York in 1944 and 1945 of recreational habits and desires of residence in states north of the Ohio River and east of the Mississippi. The survey probed the current interest in winter sports vacations. He also studied winter sporting activities in New England for comparison sake. What Wise found was that the greatest interest was in skiing. Tobogganing and skating were just side attractions for most people. In order to lure winter tourists to northern Wisconsin. Wise contacted the Wisconsin Tourist Board in Chicago. "The Telemark Company has just finished construction of the finest downhill ski area in the Midwest," he wrote in December 1947, ". . .Naturally we are very desirous of tapping the big Chicago market." Wise explained to them that he and his partner, H.B. Hewett of Minneapolis, were ex-GI's and had sunk their entire savings as well as risked loans to the tune of $10,000 to buy a 370-foot high mound of Ice Age rock and gravel with a vertical drop of 2400 feet three miles east of Cable, Wisconsin. They also built a rustic one-room day lodge at the base and had cleared a path for two downhill runs and installed a towrope. They, however, had little left for advertising, and appealed to the Tourist Board for a deal. If the Board sent vacationers to their ski resort, they would return to them a ten percent commission. Wise proved his business acumen by claiming he got fourteen hotels and summer resorts to stay open during the winter months to encourage his new venture, and he had contracted with a ski instructor from Norway to conduct a school. [213]

Within eight years, Wise's Telemark resort attracted 17,000 skiers in one season. During that time he added Ski Inn, Norway Lodge, and Ski Lark Motel. At the end of two decades Telemark attracted 100,000 Midwesterners per season, and became known as the most innovative ski resort in the Midwest. It was equipped with T-bars and ski lifts, and it boasted a certified ski instruction school. In 1961, after a particularly light season for snow, Wise introduced snowmaking machines to northern Wisconsin. Federal aid from the Small Business Association made this possible by supplementing loans from local banks. Wise was also the first to use "snow-cats." This "pioneering efforts in snow grooming, with the help of creative blacksmiths from local lumber camps, provided good skiing conditions throughout the long season in spite of the intemperate climate." Reminiscent of an era when lumbermen prowled these woods, outdoor employees were dressed in "lumberjack" uniforms with red shirts, stag pants, high leather boots and a high-crowned Scotch hat. In the spring lift ticket-holders received a free roast beef dinner at the Blue Ox Feast, and skiers enjoyed fresh maple syrup during the Maple Sugar Feast. [214]

In 1972, the four-season Telemark Lodge opened for vacationers and conventioneers. The multi-million dollar resort surrounded by nearly one million acres of state and national forests included the Telemark Recreational Community of single-family homes, townhouses, and condominiums complete with a sixty-three kilometer cross-country ski complex, a golf course, tennis courts, riding stables, trout ponds, canoe rentals, and bicycle and hiking trails. Not content to rest solely on his success in the ski resort business, Wise also proved to be a major booster of his hometown of Hayward. Beginning in 1960, Wise built upon the "Lumberjack Saturday" begun in the town during the annual muskie festival. His interest in local history encouraged him to preserve elements of the region's colorful past. By inviting lumberjacks from all over the country to compete in an annual Lumberjack World Championships, skills once needed for survival in the lumber camps and woods, were on display. Teams came from Australia, Germany, Japan, British Columbia, and from heavily forested areas in the East and West parts of the United States. For three days contestants vied to see who was best at chopping, speed climbing, tree topping, and log rolling. When the contests concluded, visitors could step back in time at Wise's Historyland — a living history village of a church, hotel, bunkhouse, blacksmith shop, and a wannigan. In addition, Historyland hosted other festivals, such as Voyageur Wild River Days and Indian Pow-wows at the Chippewa Indian Village. Looking back on what made this endeavor such a success, Tony Wise concluded that it was a $150,000 loan from the SBA. "As far as we're concerned. . .the United States government stepped in when nature failed." [215]

Telemark was not the only ski resort to open in the wake of the Second World War. In the fall of 1950 Lee Rogers and Walter J. Peterson opened Trollhaugen ski hill just east of Osceola on land purchased from Paul Neilsen. It, too, had a modest beginning with one towrope and three slopes. By 1956, however, Trollhaugen, provided skiers with five towropes and six slopes. A rustic chalet was on hand to warm skiers and provide some hospitality. During these early years an average of five thousand skiers traverse the slopes. Trollhaugen also suffered from light snow in the early 1960s, and not to be out done by Telemark, it too installed a snow-making system. Through out the 1960s T-bar lifts were added, a chair lift, more slopes were opened and by the end of the decade 80,000 skiers swooshed their way down the hills in one season. Trolhaugen also boasted that it had one of the best national ski patrols and ski schools in the Midwest. Other ski resorts added to the area are Wild Mountain and Afton Alps. [216]