The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County

by Jerry Apps

  In 1848, when the bur tree was 18 years old and had been a trail marker for but eight years, the Menominee, heavily pressured by the federal government, negotiated a treaty that ceded all of their lands to the United States. After some serious discussions and a refusal of the Menominee to move to a reservation in Minnesota, an agreement was reached between the Indians and the government that the Menominee would be settled on a reservation near what is now Shawano, Wisconsin. As a result, thousands of acres of once Indian land was now ready for surveying and then for sale at $1.25 per acre.

  In 1852, Increase Joseph Link, a preacher from New York State, along with a group of his followers called the Standalone Fellowship founded the Village of Link Lake and gave both the village and the lake the name of their leader. A year after the Standalone Fellowship founded the Link Lake community, Increase Joseph had a surprise visitor. A tall Menominee Indian appeared at his cabin door one day and introduced himself as Kee-chee-new. The two men shook hands. Kee-chee-new was a tall, fine-featured man with high cheekbones and a prominent nose.

  The Indian said to Increase Joseph, “We camped by this lake for many years, our men and women and children. We camped by this big lake on our journey from the trapping lands to the west on our way to the river called Fox and the trading post there. Today I come to show you something. Something long important to the Menominee making the long journey from the valley of the great river to the west where we trap to the trading post on the river called Fox.”

  Increase Joseph followed the tall Indian to the top of a hill, just outside the Village of Link Lake.

  “See this big tree?” asked Kee-chee-new. “See the trail nearby?”

  “I’ve seen this bur oak tree many times,” said Increase Joseph. “And I too have walked the trail that goes by it, a trail worn deep in the soil from the many hundreds who have passed this way over the years.”

  “This is a marker tree,” explained Kee-chee-new. “It points the way to the trading post on the Fox River. Before the tree showed us the way, our people often got confused and traveled long distances trying to find the trading post. With the trail marker tree, they are shown the way.”

  Kee-chee-new ran his hand along the tree’s corky bark.

  “This is a sacred tree. It must always be protected. It has a special meaning for my tribe. You are a religious man; do you understand what I am saying?”

  “I do,” said Increase Joseph. “And I will do everything in my power to make certain that no one ever cuts down this tree or in any other way harms it.”

  Later that day, Increase Joseph stopped by the blacksmith shop in Link Lake. “I want you to make me a little sign,” Increase Joseph said to the blacksmith. “I want it to read, ‘Trail Marker Oak. A sacred tree.’”

  From 1853 until the present time, the little metal sign has marked the location of the Trail Marker Oak.

  “Well, that’s it,” said Oscar, as he folded the newspaper and reached for his cane that he had leaned against a chair. “That’s the story of the Trail Marker Oak, a very special tree in our history, and in so many ways a very special tree yet today.”

  Emily Higgins stood up. “A round of applause for Oscar. We all need to be reminded from time to time about our histories and how important they can be for us today. Clearly, the Trail Marker Oak is one of those prized pieces of history for our village. That brings our April meeting to a close; we’ll see you all at the cemetery walk. Bring your friends and hope for good weather.”

  8

  Cemetery Walk

  WWRI, the radio station in Willow River, ran public service announcements about the cemetery walk for a couple weeks. The Ames County Argus ran a long story with several photos in its most recent issue. One of the TV stations in Green Bay sent a reporter and film crew to Link Lake. They interviewed both Emily Higgins, who explained the history of the event, and Mayor Jessup, who said, “We must commend the Link Lake Historical Society for helping us remember the important people who made Link Lake what it is today.”

  Emily thought, The mayor said the right words, but he really doesn’t believe them. Emily was quite certain the mayor, along with Marilyn Jones and the majority of the members of the Link Lake Economic Development Council, believed the historical society was made up of those opposed to change and was more of a hindrance than an asset to the community. But she also believed that beyond those who were members of the historical society, a goodly number of the residents of Link Lake and the surrounding communities appreciated the work of the historical society and supported its many activities and were especially pleased that the organization was helping people learn about the community’s history and preserving historical buildings and other historical artifacts in the community.

  The last Saturday in April dawned clear and sunny, one of those days that people talk about when they describe what spring can be like in central Wisconsin. It was an ideal day for a cemetery walk, or anything else outdoors, for that matter. Promptly at 10:00 a.m., Henrietta O’Malley, the head waitress at the Eat Well Café and a longtime member of the historical society, welcomed the fifty or so people who turned out for the walk, reminding them that they had a treat in store as they become acquainted with the historical figures who made Link Lake what it is today.

  “Members of our historical society have taken the roles of the people we are commemorating, dressing as these people dressed and sharing something of their lives,” she explained. “We will divide the group into three smaller groups, so people can hear and see more easily. And each group will have an opportunity to visit all the sites.”

  Henrietta quickly organized the groups—young people and older people, parents with children, local people and those from as far away as the Fox River Valley.

  “Group one, please follow me to the grave of Increase Joseph Link, the founder of the Village of Link Lake,” said Henrietta as she turned and began walking to the first grave site on the walk. A historical society volunteer led each of the other two groups, who went to other locations.

  As he had done from the time of the first cemetery walk, Oscar Anderson played the role of Pastor Increase Joseph Link. Increase Joseph, as he was fondly called, always dressed in black from his black shoes to his black hat, and that’s the way Oscar Anderson was dressed today. When everyone had gathered around, Oscar began. He stood in front of Increase Joseph’s headstone, a simple stone with the following words inscribed on it:

  Increase Joseph Link

  Born 1826

  Died 1893

  A man of the cloth

  Founder of Link Lake, Wisconsin

  Oscar Anderson held a red book in his hand, as was the style of Increase Joseph, who always preached while waving a red book. In a loud, deep voice that carried well beyond the confines of the Link Lake Cemetery, Oscar intoned:

  “We are each of us like the giant oaks that we see just outside this meeting place. The oak lives in harmony with its neighbors, the aspen, the maple, and the pine, as we each must learn to live with those who are different from us.

  “We must learn to live in harmony with the Norwegians and Welsh, the Swedes and the Danes, the Irish and the English, the Poles and the Germans, and the Indians, too, like my friend, Chief Kee-chee-new of the Menominee. All are our neighbors.

  “We must learn to live with those whose work is different from ours. We must learn to live with those who worship in ways foreign to us. There is one God, and he is concerned about all of us, no matter how we choose to honor him. He wants us to prosper, wants us to get along with each other, but first he wants us to respect the land. We must always remember that the land comes first. We must learn how to take care of the land or we all shall perish.”

  When Oscar finished, the group clapped loudly. Several people had questions, and Oscar, staying in his role as Increase Joseph, answered them.

  “What religious denomination did you belong to?”

  “We called ourselves the Standalones, meaning we were independent of all other organiz
ed religions,” said Oscar.

  “How did you travel to Wisconsin?”

  “By steamboat on the Great Lakes and then overland by wagon after we reached Sheboygan,” answered Oscar.

  Henrietta interrupted, “To stay on time, we must move on.” The group next arrived at the grave site of Henry Bakken, the editor of Link Lake’s first newspaper, the Link Lake Gazette. Billy Baxter, the middle-aged and balding editor of the Ames County Argus, wearing a striped vest, as Bakken had always done, took the role of the village’s first editor. When people were all gathered, Baxter began:

  “My name is Henry Bakken, and I came with Increase Joseph Link from Plum Falls, New York, arriving in the wilds of Wisconsin in 1852. I started the village’s first newspaper, which everyone in the community read and enjoyed. Increase Joseph and I were good friends—we traveled throughout Wisconsin as Increase Joseph spread his message of taking care of the land. We traveled to the far corners of this great state, to the wheat growing areas and to where the great pine trees grew. We learned of the Underground Railroad and aided its mission of helping black slaves travel to Canada in the late 1850s. We visited Peshtigo during the time when the great fire killed so many of their citizens in 1871. Increase Joseph Link was a great friend, a great preacher, and a man of the land.”

  Once more a rousing round of applause as the group moved on to the next grave site, that of Fred and Barbara Jones, the original owners and operators of the Link Lake Supper Club and the parents of Marilyn Jones, current owner of the supper club. Fred Russo played the role of Fred; Emily was Barbara Jones.

  “My name is Fred Jones, and I was born in 1919,” began Fred Russo, who was dressed in a suit and tie. “My wife, Barbara, and I,” Fred gestured toward Emily, who was standing next to him, “opened the Link Lake Supper Club in 1955. She will tell you something about the history of the supper club, which was not much to look at in 1955 and had been closed for several years when we bought it. Barbara and I had vacationed in Link Lake before buying the supper club. In fact we were married in Increase Joseph Community Park in 1943—in the midst of World War II. Both of our daughters, Gloria, who was born in 1944, and Marilyn, who was born in 1954, helped us at the supper club. Unfortunately we had a family squabble in 1966 and Gloria moved to California. Marilyn continued working with us and took over the operation of the supper club in 1973, after we were both killed in a car accident. At the time of our deaths, I was 54 and Barbara was 53. We were both active in the Link Lake Historical Society from the time we moved here in 1955 until the time of our deaths. And now, let’s hear from my wife, Barbara, to learn her side of the story.”

  Emily, wearing a skirt and a smart navy-blue blazer, looked out over the crowd. She began in her characteristic loud voice, “I was born in Chicago in 1920, and, like Fred and his family, we vacationed here in Link Lake when we were kids. It was here in Link Lake that I met Fred, and as he has pointed out, we were married right here in Link Lake, in front of the famous Trail Marker Oak.

  “After we married we kept coming here on vacation, and we remember driving by an old building located right on the lake, an interesting looking building, but badly in need of repair. We stopped at the Link Lake Historical Museum and there met Emily Higgins, who told us the history of the old dilapidated building. Emily was in her early twenties at the time and a volunteer at the museum store, if I remember correctly. She explained that the old building had been a tavern, a roadhouse, and stagecoach stop on the way from Waupaca to Willow River. Once we learned of its rich history, we decided to buy the place, restore it, and turn it into a supper club. The supper club is steeped in history—more than most people know. Fred and I enjoyed our years at the supper club, and we especially enjoyed living in Link Lake, which is so rich with history.”

  Emily bowed deeply and everyone clapped. The tour continued, recognizing several other Link Lake citizens, each depicted by a current member of the historical society. The walk took more than an hour, as the three groups visited each site. When everyone had visited all of the sites, the entire group got together once more. Henrietta passed around a bucket into which those attending were encouraged to offer a donation. She thanked everyone for coming and invited them to come to the Link Lake bank robbery reenactment, which was planned for May. Then she said everyone was welcome to enjoy apple cider and cookies at the Link Lake Historical Museum.

  9

  Ambrose, Ranger, and Buster

  Somewhat in response to his doctor’s admonition to slow down, Ambrose had plowed and planted only five acres of oats this year. In past years he had put in ten acres. Now in May, with the oat crop up and growing, he worked at planting his garden; this time both his dog, Buster, and Ranger, the raccoon, were with him, “helping” him with the job at hand.

  “Well, fellows, what’s going to sell well in the vegetable stand this year?” he asked. Both animals looked at him like they understood the question. He planted a long row of radishes, another long row of leaf lettuce, and ten rows of potatoes—three of early red ones, and the rest of late potatoes. Ambrose had started about fifty tomato plants from seed back in late March, and he would hold off setting out the tomatoes until the end of the month, when he was reasonably sure that a late frost wasn’t still up Mother Nature’s sleeve.

  After lunch and an hour’s nap, Ambrose and his “helpers” were once more out in the garden continuing to plant cabbages, broccoli, sweet corn— three different varieties that would mature at different times—a long row of sunflowers, and an equally long row of ornamental corn, which always sold well. He would hold off on planting squash, cucumbers, and pumpkins until he set out the tomatoes. These vine crop seeds always germinated so much better when the soil was warmer.

  As Ambrose worked in his garden, the question of his long-held secret nagged at him. “Okay, you guys. When do I let the world know that old Ambrose Adler isn’t the strange, out-of-date, stuttering farmer that everyone thinks he is?” Buster wagged his tail, and Ranger held out his paws, as he often did when Ambrose talked to him.

  “So you don’t know either?” asked Ambrose. “How will I know when the time is right? I may not have that much time left.” Buster continued wagging his tail, and Ranger looked straight at Ambrose. Ambrose bent over and petted both the dog and the raccoon.

  “Well, if we’re gonna finish planting this garden today, we’d better get back at it,” said Ambrose. The two animals continued watching as Ambrose worked under the warm May sun.

  10

  Marilyn Jones

  On a bright and sunny early May day, Marilyn sat in her office at the supper club, thinking back to when she first began running the place. She remembered so well the day her life changed completely: it was September 25, 1973, and she was a sophomore at Ripon College. As she left the lecture room that Tuesday morning, her roommate, Jesse, met her at the door. “Someone from the main office just called and said you should stop by the office as soon as possible.”

  Marilyn immediately wondered what she had done wrong. She knew that she had been partying a little too much, and that her grades weren’t much above a C average. But what had she done to trigger a summons to the main office “as soon as possible”?

  She walked across campus thinking about what kind of trouble she must be in and what the possible punishment might be. And she wondered how she would break the news to her parents, who were counting on her to do well and to help them manage the supper club when she graduated. The Joneses had spent all their savings on enlarging, modernizing, and refurbishing the supper club, turning it into a popular place for locals and tourists alike.

  Marilyn had been helping out at the supper club ever since she was three or four years old, and by the time she was in high school, she was waiting on tables and doing all kinds of odd jobs around the place. During the summers she worked there full-time. It wasn’t a bad summer job—her parents even paid her a salary. But she would have preferred going out with her friends and spending some time away from the supper clu
b.

  She pulled open the main office door, walked up to the counter, and in a quiet voice said, “My name is Marilyn Jones, and I was told you needed to see me.”

  “Oh, Marilyn, thank you so much for coming by so promptly,” said the secretary behind the counter, a gray-haired and very friendly woman. “Dr. Sykes is waiting to talk with you. His office is the first one down the hall.”

  Marilyn’s head was still filled with worry about what she had done wrong as she knocked on the closed door. “Come right in,” she heard.

  “I’m Marilyn Jones.”

  “I’m Dr. Sykes,” the plumpish, round-faced man on the other side of a rather cluttered desk said. “Please be seated.” He pointed to a chair that sat alongside his desk.

  Dr. Sykes took off his glasses, put them on the desk, and then looked right at Marilyn and said, “I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”

  Marilyn steeled herself for the worst. Would she be placed on academic probation? Had her partying gone too far, and was she going to receive a reprimand of some type? But what she heard was beyond anything she expected.

  “We’ve just learned that your parents have been killed in a car accident,” Dr. Sykes said quietly. “It happened at nine this morning on Highway 22, just north of Montello.”

  “What did you say?” Marilyn asked, hoping she had not heard correctly.

  Dr. Sykes repeated, this time a bit more slowly. “Your parents were both killed in a car accident this morning.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. That can’t be true. It must be someone else. Are you sure?” blurted out Marilyn, her blue eyes filling with tears.

  “It’s true, Marilyn. I stand ready to help you in any way I can—you just need to tell me how.”

  “It’s not true. It’s not true,” Marilyn cried, pounding her hands on Dr. Sykes’s desk, knocking one of the piles of papers to the floor. But when she looked into Dr. Sykes’s sad face, she knew it was true.