More Than We Ever Wanted to Know About Mining

The Keweenaw Peninsula was home to one of the largest copper mining industries in the nation from the 1840s through the 1960s. The town of Calumet was the home office of the Calumet and Hecla Copper Mining Company which is now the Keweenaw National Historic Park. The town and park have an unusual partnership to preserve the area’s history. The Mining Company office, home of the owner, library and a few other buildings are owned by the National Park. Many other buildings throughout the town are privately owned but are in partnership with the Park and preserved for historical and tourist purposes. Jay and Chris were so intrigued with the history of the area that they spent several days following the walking tours outlined in the park booklets visiting the historical buildings and learning all about mining in the 19^th century.

Jay standing in front of a 9,392 lb. Float Copper which is created by glacial action tearing it from the veins as it scrapes the earth’s surface.

The Company buildings of the National Park were beautifully restored but unusual in exterior appearance. Irregularly shaped waste rock from the mines, in shades of brown, black and white, was the primary exterior material with building corners, chimneys, and window and door frames trimmed in red brick. Although unique and economical, Chris didn’t think it an attractive material for buildings owned by such a wealthy company although the architectural features were.

The main administrative building of the Calumet-Hecla Mining Company.

They toured the Coppertown Museum and learned all about the mining drills, tram cars that carried the ore out of the mines, the helmet mounted lighting systems and the pattern shop. Displays explained how workers migrated from a dozen different countries to work the mines, open stores and found churches in town.

A miner’s hat complete with candle for illuminating the work area.

Rusting hulks of mining cars used over the years.

Copper was discovered in the Keweenaw Peninsula in 1843 and by 1849 the area’s dozens of mines provided 85 percent of the entire United States’ copper needs, exceeding 11 billion pounds of the mineral over the next hundred years. The process required thousands of workers both under and above ground working around the clock. Calumet and the nearby town of Laurium, where Jay lived and where the wealthier employees and merchants lived, grew in population by the tens of thousands. The Calumet and Hecla Copper Mining Company provided housing, schools, medical care, a library and many other services for its workers and their families.

Jay standing in front of the house he lived in when he lived in Laurium.

But the services didn’t lessen the gruelingly hard work and inhospitable environment created by the industry. The conditions the miners experienced were brought to life for Chris and Jay when they toured the Quincy Mine just outside of Hancock. The mine shafts were poorly lit, and ranged in temperatures from the low forties several hundred feet down to the high nineties at the deepest levels of one to two miles below the earth’s surface. The air was thick with smoke from the many boiler houses which provided the power to operate the tram cars that climbed the shaft full of ore laden rocks, then when emptied descended for another load. Smokestacks from smelting buildings contributed to the lofty morass. The ground vibrated as charges were set off far below and the air was filled with the constant roar of big machinery as railcars brought coal to the boilers and left filled with ore for the smelting houses. The type of lives these people led is as distant to Jay and Chris as the moon.

The Quincy Mine Shaft house and the Brick Hoist House which powered the cables that raised and lowered the tram cars.

The clean, quiet but under populated town of Calumet is a much different place than in its prosperous heyday. The 19^th century architecture remains and for the most part is in beautiful repair, but about ¼ of the buildings are unoccupied and its appearance is not unlike a ghost town where an occasional car is driven by or a solitary resident is seen walking their dog or a small group of children are seen playing in the spray of a fire hose as the firemen empty the truck’s water tanks into a lot occupied by a now boarded up elementary school.

The roads and parking spaces were sparsely populated.

The historic Calumet Theater.

Despite its sparse population the residents, shop owners and attraction volunteers love their town and are proud of their establishments. Chris and Jay ate in a couple of restaurants where the food was excellent and the buildings retained the charm of 19^th century décor with patterned tile floors and high embossed, tin ceilings. One held a 30 foot long, walnut bar complete with a mural on the curved ceiling above depicting an 1800s dance scene.

A beautiful bar with mural painted above and patterned tile floor.

The Upper Peninsula Memorial Firefighters Museum, housed in the old fire station, was a rare treat. The volunteer in attendance grew up in the town and he and his wife return to the area in the summer and donate their time; he at the fire house and she at the Keweenaw Heritage Center at St. Anne’s Church. The station contained the most diverse variety of fire trucks Chris and Jay had ever seen. There was an 1857 Pumper, which was little more than a horse drawn, 10 foot long platform on wheels that held a pipe, and a pump which was driven by men raising and lowering two long, wooden rods on opposite sides of the platform. Nearby was a horse drawn sled with a cargo bed behind the driver’s seat which looked like it would have been used to transport hoses, buckets, ladders and other equipment needed to douse a fire. Along the back wall were hose reels which consisted of two, six foot diameter wheels connected by a drum onto which the fire hose was spooled. It was pulled by man or beast via a long shaft which extended forward of the wheels. The whole contraption was painted, of course, red. Chris got the biggest kick out of the hearse that was in the collection. The docent told her that it was used to transport the hoses (probably before they got those fancy two-wheeled things). The upper level held displays of water nozzles used over the years, framed news accounts of substantial fires in the community and photos of former firemen. But the highlight of the day was a round, canvas catch ring used to rescue people when they jumped from upper story windows of burning buildings. It brought back memories of old Charlie Chaplin movies and smiles to Chris and Jay’s faces.

The 1857 pumper.

The hearse amongst other fire trucks.

Jay with the Catch Ring.

The Land of the Yoopers

So far, the summer weather above the 45^th parallel had been spectacular. Brilliant blue skies softened by scattered pillows of billowing, crystalline clouds and temperatures in the 70s had made the outdoor activities so far nearly perfect. On a similarly wonderful, early July day, Chris and Jay drove from Bayfield, WI to Hancock, on the Keweenaw Peninsula of Michigan. The 150 mile drive and time in the truck was a little long for their preference but frequent stops to stretch their legs, have lunch and gather a bag full of brochures, pamphlets and booklets from a Michigan Visitor Center broke up the several hour drive. They skirted the Lake Superior shore, following it south then east, along highways lined with thick masses of white, yellow, purple and orange wildflowers, their blossoms nodding this way and that in the gentle breeze. Jay grew more and more excited as he began to recognize landmarks and towns that he frequently drove through over 40 years before as a young enlisted man in the Coast Guard. His story of why he was there follows.

“In the summer of 1964, Jay returned from a year-long assignment at the Coast Guard LORAN (Long Range Aids to Navigation) Station at Port Clarence, Alaska located between Nome and Point Barrow. Since it was considered to be just about the very worst duty station in the entire Coast Guard (Jay agreed) he was given his first choice of new assignments. At this point you must remember Jay was only 21 and by definition “young and dumb”. Did he request Hawaii or some warm and sunny place on the mainland? No! He wanted to be near his parents, who lived in Greenville, Ohio so he asked for a shore station near them in Michigan. Now Jay was never considered a stellar student and Geography was definitely not his best subject in school. When asking for the Michigan station he didn’t know that Hancock was in the Upper Peninsula. In fact, he thought that part of the world was Canada and was totally surprised when he learned of his error. His wife at the time, Jo, did not speak to him for quite some time. However, the die was cast so off they went to live in the Keweenaw Peninsula, the most northern part of Michigan. That year it started snowing in September – Jay had really had his fill of the white stuff in Alaska and shoveling snow three times a day so he could get the car out of the garage and go to work was not fun – until he discovered skiing!!! All of you who know Jay very well know that he firmly believes there are only four things that are really worth doing and they all start with the letter “S”; skiing, sailing, scuba diving and s___. Jay’s 18 months in that part of the world was some of the most memorable times he spent in his Coast Guard career. Naturally, when he and Chris were thinking of a cool place to spend the summer and photograph, the shore of Lake Superior sounded like a good plan. As you can tell from the last few blogs it was and Hancock didn’t disappoint.”

As Chris and Jay entered the areas familiar to him, they detoured to the Indianhead and Powderhorn ski areas where he first learned to ski and which made life in such a cold, snowy land tolerable. Other than a few new buildings and some new chairlifts, not much had changed. The wildflower laden meadows of the ski slopes looked like colorful ribbons cascading down the mountains amidst thick, dark green timbers. All was silent except for the signs, suspended from weathered metal rods, creaking their resistance against the persistent, mountain-top winds. The buildings seemed abandoned but, they were just locked against vandals’ mischievous deeds until the winter storms blew in and energized the slopes with throngs of snow-lovers.

Further north they passed through Hancock where Jay’s electronics shop had been located in a battered garage the Coast Guard had rented before the construction of a new facility at the Station on the west side of the peninsula. He recognized a restaurant/bar that he and Jo had frequented. But, after more than 40 years, there wasn’t much else that was familiar. (since his home was in Laurium a 10 mile drive north.)

The McLain State Park where they were to stay for the next two weeks was about 10 miles outside of Hancock and the campground area was situated on a low bluff overlooking Lake Superior (and a perfect view of the sunset.) Below the bluff was a clean, sandy beach that stretched for miles around a shallow cove and frequently spaced along the grassy top edge were well-kept, painted, one-piece, wooden seating units consisting of a central tabletop flanked by two Adirondack style chairs. They were popular assets and one had to stake their claim early in the evening to have a front row seat at sunset (which, due to their location at the western edge of the Central time zone, didn’t occur until nearly 10 p.m.)

The view of Lake Superior from the campground seats.

This was the first Michigan State Park Chris and Jay had stayed in and they discovered that only electric hookups were provided at the campsite. There was a drive-through area where they filled Sonny’s 66 gallon water tank and hoped it would last the two weeks of their stay. Thus, much to their dismay, they were relegated to using the campground showers and water used in the camper for flushing, cooking, and washing dishes was kept to a bare minimum – think dribble. Thankfully the showers were spacious, clean, usually vacant and never ran out of hot water. Ahhh, the simple things in life that afford such pleasure.

After settling into their campsite, Jay was curious about the location of the Coast Guard Station where he had served. A trip to the park office and a conversation with one of the young men in attendance revealed that, although no longer in service, it was within walking distance; just west of the park’s property line on the canal. Several hours of daylight were left so Chris and Jay set off down a wooded trail to find it. The trail left the woods and opened onto a view of the canal. They passed a fenced enclosure which protected a tall, communications tower, which Jay suspected was currently used by the Coast Guard. They continued through another wooded area where they startled a peacefully grazing doe who made a terrific racket as she bounded out of sight. Then they saw it - just ahead in a clearing: The unmistakable, simple, white buildings with red roofs of a mid-20^th century Coast Guard Shore Station. The windows were covered with plywood and overspray from a recent paint job splayed onto the red shingles in a broad, right angle where the windows rose above the roof. Jay was beside himself as he strode through the knee-high grasses and wildflowers to the buildings. He located the electronics shop where he worked while Chris took some snapshots of the area. They descended the still sturdy, metal staircase at the back of the boathouse and walked its length to the water. Aside from a hole in one of the large, work-bay doors, presumably from vandals, the buildings and grounds overall were in very good condition. Jay told Chris some stories of his time there; who he liked, who he didn’t and why. It was evident that even after serving over 24 years, 16 of which he flew helicopters, his time in the Coast Guard was very dear to him and his career too short.

The abandoned Coast Guard Station at dusk.

Jay in front of the Electronic Repair Shop where he used to work.

Although some may think that Jay and Chris are on perpetual vacation this is not the case. Bills need to be paid, groceries and other necessities need to be bought, the RV requires cleaning and countless other duties that one would normally do at home need attention. The first day at a new location is usually spent catching up on e-mails, finances and miscellaneous paperwork which is what they did. Their reward was to garner a lake-side chair, relax and enjoy the entertainment of fellow campers on the beach while basking in the warmth of the setting sun.

Jay pointed out a big splash several hundred feet offshore and remarked that it had to have been caused by a huge fish. A short time later Chris noticed another splash. They began to think it a strange phenomenon and sought an alternative cause. It was then that they noticed several boys, estimated ages from 10 to 18, with golf clubs and a large sack of balls below them on the beach. Three of the older boys were lined up at the water’s edge and were hitting the golf balls into the lake – causing a great splash of water where the ball landed! One boy was quite good and he was hitting balls the farthest making the biggest splash that Jay had first noticed. The balls other boys hit fell short in quality, sometimes skipping across the water like a flat rock or just barely becoming airborne for a few feet before plunging to the bottom. When they were out of balls they all piled into a 12’, flat-bottomed, aluminum boat and, standing upright, paddled out to gather them. The water was crystal clear and once a sighting was made one or more of them would jump overboard to retrieve the ball. This was done repeatedly by the younger boys while the taller, older boys would wade, chest-deep, through the area using their feet to feel for the balls, then dive down to pick them up. All-in-all, it was quite an unusual form of evening entertainment.

Some of the boys retrieving the balls.

It was probably a good thing that the days were so long as it gave Chris an opportunity to see the sights and to photograph the sunsets at the McLain State Park beach. A little south of the sandy campground beach was a point of land where the sand turned to smooth, rounded, softball sized rocks. Further into the water, larger rocks of various sizes and shapes showed themselves and made interesting foreground elements for Chris’ photos. Cloud formations permitting, she spent several nights at the point capturing sunsets using a variety of techniques to create different effects. Now the hard part – editing them down to the best ones to keep and market.

A sunset at the mouth of the canal near the park.