Seriously, though, this makes sense. Cooley's got a stake not just in Lansing, but in the immediate neighborhood; perhaps they'll find some synergies and certainly the school cares about the vicinity. And if Cooley Law wants to use the ball team to advertise, why is that worse than an insurance company or a hospital? Or a car manufacturer, for that matter?

Thomas Cooley was a member of the Michigan Supreme Court for a couple decades, immediately after the Civil War; after his court tenure, he was appointed the first chairman of the Interstate Commerce Commission in 1887. I encountered his name occasionally in another life while studying nineteenth century business practices, and nearly everyone says he personally gave the Michigan Supreme Court its dignity--our state was, after all, quite young during his term.

Knowing my political opinions, I'm reasonably certain I'd not have liked the man had I been his contemporary, but he's an important figure in Michigan history.

My preferred name for Lansing's ballyard would be The REO Diamond. But it's not gonna happen.

Bruce Catton's Michigan says this:

Men who ought to have known better feared that those who planned the new [Sault Ste Marie] canal were much too optimistic. E.B. Ward of Detroit was the lakes' chief steamboat magnate, just then, and he wrote anxiously to a Michigan Congressman protesting that the locks, planned to measure 350 feet in length by 70 in width, were much too large; 260 feet by 60 feet would be ample, because steamboats too large for such locks would be too big to get up the St. Mary's River, which had shallow places with hard-rock bottoms.... [page 120]

...Captain Ward, as competent a businessman as the lakes country afforded, had turned out to be a terrible prophet, not because he lacked intelligence, but simply because neither he nor the other men who were industrializing this wilderness had any notion how fast the process was going to go, once it got started. [122]

The CCC's Michigan Guide tells us:

Early in 1853, Captain Eber B. Ward, a Detroit shipping magnate, purchased the [John] Biddle estate [in Wyandotte] and established the Eureka Iron and Steel Company on the waterfront, the first plant of its kind in the Detroit area. A blast furnace and rolling mill were built, and a settlement was platted. In the next 20 years, Wyandotte pioneered in the steel industry with two important firsts: the first steel analysis laboratory in the United States (1862), and the manufacture of the first Bessemer steel [properly, this was Kelly-patent steel] in America (1864).... Because of the mill's position between the ore beds of upper Michigan and the coal fields of Ohio and Indiana, it seemed probably that it would become one of the most successful plants in the Nation; but Ward had overreached himself. When he fell dead in Detroit in 1875, his partners, hit by the panic of 1873, permitted the mill to fall into ruin.... [T]wo years before his death, Captain Ward had drilled an oil and gas well on his property, which, although it proved unproductive, revealed the existence of an immense salt bed of good quality and not too deep to be exploited commercially. [470]

Ward gets quite a bit of attention from Jean McHugh in her biography of Alexander Holley; here's one paragraph:

Ward's sole aim was to build the experimental plant and to rush it into operation. He was a strange person. To his credit, he rarely interfered with Durfee's operation [Wyandotte's Kelly-patent mill]. He has been described as a man of extremes: self-controlled and passionate, shrewd and credulous, persistent yet changeable. He was not an ironmaster in the true sense of the word and had little real understanding of the details of Durfee's experiments. In his anxiety to make a financial success of the venture, Ward seemed always ready to listen to any suggestion, no matter how ridiculous. He probably had no intention of creating difficulties for Durfee, but seemed unable to resist trying out a persuasive scheme, especially if it were put forward by those unfriendly to Durfee. [175]

He's mentioned four times in James C. Mills' Our Inland Seas; this one is typical:

The large steamer Planet, built by Captain Ward at Newport, in 1855, and which was a leviathan of the time, was added to the [Goodrich] line about 1863. She was of twelve hundred tons, and splendidly furnished, but ran only until 1866, when she was taken off the line and dismantled. [240]

Finally, and most surprisingly, Ward and his sons show up in Peter Morris's wonderful Baseball Fever:

For five years, Ward tried desperately to make businessmen of his sons, but failed miserably. He put Charley in charge of a business in Toledo, and Charley proceeded to run up thirty-seven thousand dollars in debts. Captain Ward bailed him out, and Charley ran up another two hundred thousand dollars in debts that his father again had to make good. E. B. Ward made similar attempts with Milton, with no more success. Milton ran up large bills in Ludington, Milwaukee, and Ripon, Wisconsin, without making much pretense of following his father's instructions. Both sons of the state's "first real captain of industry" became notorious for their "questionable industry," though it's unclear whether this should be attributed to insanity, rebellion against their father, or mere laziness. In 1874, the Detroit Evening News announced that "Milt Ward has at last found his strong point. He says that he can sit in a chair, and balance longer on the two hind legs than any man in the West." [235-36]

I've no plan to write Ward's missing biography, but I'm intrigued enough that I'll be posting some things about him in this Journal from time to time.

I returned to Macalester College as a 31-year-old senior in January of 1981. One reason for the mid-winter start was Mac's January term, which would let me get my feet wet in a differently-demanding fashion than a fall start would have entailed. I signed up for Jim Stewart's one-off course titled 1877; the course description amounted to "1877 was an interesting year. We'll read newspapers from the time on microfilm, and will make presentations about what we learn."

For some reason the 1877 microfilm wasn't available, so Jim fell back to a set of early 1869 newspaper films Ernie Sandeen had acquired for some other project. This changed the focus just a bit, but the main class objective was unchanged: We were learning a particular set of research tools, and practices. We were set to exploring for the first week; the class sessions began with observations about the mechanics of reading microfilm, then moved to discussions of such things as evolving newspaper layout, editorial emphases, and advertising practices. For the second week, Jim assigned us stories to track down without consulting modern sources; we talked in class about how the story-as-reported differed from the story as we recalled it from history textbooks, and what those differences might mean.

The third and fourth weeks were self-assigned projects. My third week project was about newspaper organization; specifically, I compared the layout of the Detroit Free Press as of 1869 with three other papers, and speculated a bit about why they differed. My final week's project was about Railroad Fever.

The entire nation had the Railroad Fever in 1869. Most newspapers in the collection routinely included notes and articles under that rubric, clearly because everyone recognized the symptoms. Michigan was nursing two outbreaks: Promoters were raising money to build a more direct line (an "air line") between Detroit and Chicago which would roughly follow the route of the Chicago Road, and actual construction was occurring for a line connecting Jackson and Grand Rapids. Both remain interesting, for different reasons.

The Air-Line promoters touted their project as a competitor to the Michigan Central line which already connected the terminal cities; MC was widely seen as a monopolist and therefore widely despised. When the microfilm ran out, the project was unsettled--but the fund-raising effort worked. Jackson and Niles were connected by rail in 1871, and an existing line was purchased to complete the Chicago connection. Worth noting: The promoters promptly leased the new line to the Central; indeed, it seems quite likely that they were Michigan Central agents from the start. (I've left out a lot of detail; see Wikipedia's account of the railroad for those.) I gather this rail has been pulled up, but that's a relatively recent occurrence; it still had regular traffic a couple decades ago.

The 1869 news about the Grand River Valley Railroad was always about celebrations. The line reached Morgan, on Thornapple Lake, early in January; by the time our newspapers ran out there were parades and parties in Hastings. GVRR was already a Central captive, but these towns were pleased just to find themselves on the map. It may be that they later learned to hate the monster.

The Valley branch remained in use under the Michigan Central/New York Central/Penn Central/Conrail succession into the 1970s, with CR ceding the line to the State of Michigan in 1979. The State leased the line to the Kent, Barry, and Eaton Connecting Railway until that road failed in 1983, at which time the line was abandoned. The track would soon be pulled up, but obvious remnants of the right of way were left along the entire route. Those remnants are the basis of the Paul Henry-Thornapple Trail.

Which takes me back to Andy's color tour. Life is often circular, as are my tales.

Though it's well into October, the trees remain stubbornly green. Joan and I went out looking for color on Saturday, with little luck; I got a few worthwhile pix, which I'll doubtless post to Flickr, but the color distribution was one tree here, another across the field.

Took this on yesterday's lunch break. Colors are finally changing....

Camera: Nikon D70

In June of every year the Corps of Engineers holds an open house at the Soo Locks, and thousands of fans show up to explore the grounds, view the passing ships from an unusual perspective, and look over the exhibits. Yesterday was that day, and Joan and I were among the crowd. Here we see some of the visitors crossing the massive gate which holds back Lake Superior at the the downriver end of the 105 foot wide Poe Lock.

While Sault Ste. Marie is an ancient city by North American standards--the first white settlers arrived in the 1500s, and there's been a city at this location since 1638--the event which defines the modern Sault occurred on June 18, 1855, when a ship named the Illinois traversed the then-new Soo Locks and opened traffic between Lake Superior and the rest of the Great Lakes--thus connecting the Lake Superior iron and copper mines to the eastern United States. The locks have been rebuilt and expanded since then, but the traffic's been constant, and constitute an important part of the American economy.

They're celebrating the sesquicentennial this summer, and the celebration began yesterday. We missed the opening ceremony, but had a fine time wandering the grounds and watching as St. Clair and Herbert C. Jackson passed through the locks yesterday.

The Harvard study concludes that these deficits have become structural, that is, the states are obligated to provide more services than they can afford.  This has been said about the Michigan situation for the last several years, but it has not been addressed.  Instead, quick-fix and stopgap solutions have been used to keep the books balanced.

Detroit Free Press/July 17, 2004
/States like Michigan need bolder budget vision
my thanks to my employer's clipping service

The editorial staff at the Freeps, like me, thinks it's about time we rethought the structure of the state's fiscal compact; since I've already commented on that, I'll not repeat myself.  This paragraph, though, caught my attention:

Few states have shown the political will for the overhaul that is obviously required, in both taxes and services.  States such as Michigan with term-limited public officials minding the store are perhaps the least likely to make bold changes.

While I really dislike the short term limits we've put on the legislature, I don't see this connection.  Methought one purpose of the term limits was to reduce the proportion of career politicians in office, thus reducing those officials' institutional commitments and freeing up the creative juices.  That objective was certainly worthwhile, and ought to still apply.

Regardless, I don't think we'll see a legislative solution.  It's likely time for a new Con-Con.

Now, as for centuries, tourists behold those [European, Asian, & African] ruins with awe and wonder. Yet today, a vast and history laden ruin site passes unnoticed, even despised, into oblivion.

Come, travel with me, as I guide you on a tour through the fabulous and vanishing ruins of my beloved Detroit.

Go.  Explore.

Lowell's tribute to Tiger Stadium is a wonderful thing.  Read it, and read all the Detour panels about the stadium.  Read it even if you hate baseball, and despised the old ballyard.  This is love, and it's something beautiful.

Unthinkable, I say.  I'm a Democrat.  I used to work in the Democratic Party--hell, I used to work for the party, occasionally for pay.  I usually vote for Democrats.  I send money to Democrats.  My heart's in the Democracy, and voting in the other party's primary's not far from treason.

Except:  Where I live, especially this year, the Democratic primary doesn't much matter.  Few of the primary races are contested, and few of those Dems who'll get my November votes will win; on the other hand, a vote in the Republican primary can affect the real outcome of the election.  I've a strong opinion in the Republican Congressional race, and can develop a preference for the Sheriff's contest.  That's a reason to cast a vote.  I expect I'll do so.

That comment is probably pretty opaque if you've never voted in Michigan, as Michigan's primary laws are a bit odd.  Historically, this state has not required--nor even had a mechanism for--registering to vote for a specific party.  All Michigan primaries are open to anyone who is eligible to vote.  The only rule is that, for a particular primary, you can only vote in one party's contests.

For a short time Michigan had a party-declaration requirement, but the declaration was sufficiently unpopular--an "invasion of privacy"--that the Democrats decided it was preferable to stage a party-run presidential primary--which they (I'll not say "we" about this) choose to call a "caucus."

The national gerrymander habit must die.  The practice of routinely creating one-party election districts undermines political discourse, and subverts republican government.  One party elections encourage extremism, and create a climate where debate, discussion, and compromise are impossible--on many issues, the practice permits folks to honestly believe that reaching a compromise is indecent.  Few politicians, and few citizens, are naturally extremist, but we've created a system which encourages an extremist culture.  Party advantage is not a healthy basis for defining political boundaries, and ideology needs to be tempered by honest discussion.  We ought to do better than this.  We must do better than this.

Modification 7/28/04:  Explanation about the Michigan primary system.

I agree wholeheartedly with his main point, which is that the system is broken.  Part of the fascination of this year's budget negotiations in Michigan has been that it's clear that the legislative leadership disagrees with the governor about key issues, but that both sides have been working to find workable compromises and mutually acceptable solutions.  That's how government is supposed to work, and it's worth cheering when things work out.  But sometimes more is needed, and it's becoming clear that now is one of those times.  The next step is to get beyond the legislative duct tape and the temporary administrative measures to build something we can live with for another generation.  Perhaps this is the opportunity.

American government is designed to accomodate disagreement, though the tension often makes folks uncomfortable.  What we need, sometime soon, is a civil discussion about what Michigan's government is for, how we get to that point, and what tax structure we need to support that effort.  The (less-than-complete) success of the Michigan budget efforts demonstrates that it's not necessary to continue talking past each other just because we've been doing so in the past.  Discussion isn't helped when each side caricatures the other's positions.   The habit many have of simplifying and dismissing the other party's position is really poisonous to the civil culture.  It's time we stopped, and started finding solutions.

For over a century, this grain elevator was the main reason for Mulliken.  This railside complex was the farming community's touchpoint with the larger world.  They'd come to buy seed before planting, then return to sell the grain they'd grown from the seed.  This routine made for an interesting, seasonal parade of vehicles on Potter Street.  July's winter wheat harvest was a particularly busy time; trucks, tractors, and trailors would line Main Street day and night as the farmers and staff would struggle to get the grain from truck to hopper.

That's gone.  A few years back, a fire gutted the office.  The owners rebuilt.  Then the contents of one of the silos got wet, rotted, and stank up the town.  They cleaned it up, but that crop was a total loss.  The business limped on for a few months after these disasters, then failed.  The place was vacant, except a few stray cats,  for a couple years; a family converted the office into a home and has now lived there for some time.  They're now removing the ancient buildings, and the silos.

Photo taken October 5, 2003. Camera: Olympus Camedia C-50