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… and sail to Milwaukee to come see me talk at Sugar Maple on Jan. 12, 2012!
(Who am I kidding? They’ll be there for the dance party.)
Oh my gosh, how great is this poster? My friend dwellephant made it. You should send him $5 immediately. (Or maybe you need some love letters? Valentine’s Day!)
See you (if you live near Milwaukee) at the Sugar Maple! (More details on Facebook.) We’re going to shake it Gabriel Richard in wooden shoes after a few glasses of wine he bought from Joseph Campau.
Tags: antoine cadillac, Art, gabriel richard, lewis cass
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Thanksgiving as we know it today — celebrated on the last Thursday of November — was nationally, officially proclaimed by Abraham Lincoln in 1863. But Thanksgiving had been celebrated locally, and proclaimed by individual states, long before that.* It was kind of a New England thing — pilgrims, and all that — but over time it spread through the Northern states and territories, and wherever New Englanders were going.
Michigan became an early adopter of the Thanksgiving tradition when it celebrated its first official Thanksgiving on November 25, 1824, by proclamation of Governor Lewis Cass — a New Englander, under whose term boatloads of New Englanders came to the Territory. Successive governors took up the call, and by the 1840s — when other states were just begin to proclaim Thanksgivings — it was old-hat. Here is Governor John Barry’s 1844 proclamation, signed at the Capitol in Detroit and published in the Michigan Farmer:
Whereas, the time is approaching when, according to a long-established and well-approved custom observed by most of the States in the Union, the people unite in rendering Thanksgiving and praise to the great Giver of all good; and
Whereas, though sanctioned by no legal authority, it has been customary for the Chief Executive officer of the several States to recommend a particular day to be set apart for such purpose; and
Whereas, it is a duty incumbent on all to render thanks to the Most High for his divine protection;
Now, therefore I, John S. Barry, Governor of the State of Michigan, have thought proper to appoint, and by these presents do appoint, Thursday, the thirtieth day of November next, as a day of Public Thanksgiving and Prayer, and I do hereby recommend to the people of this State to set apart and observe the same accordingly, that they assemble on that day in their several places of public worship, and with united hearts render unfeigned thanks to the great Maker and preserver of all things, for the numberless blessings vouchsafed to us during the past year, that he has preserved our lives, maintained peace within our borders, stayed the pestilence, averted famine, rewarded the husbandman with abundant harvests, and preserved to us inviolate our civil and religious institutions, and, with deep humility, confessing our sins, give thanks for all his numerous mercies and humbly ask a continuance of Divine favors.
Just for contrast, and for fun, here is Hazen Pingree’s Thanksgiving proclamation from1900. I love the emphasis he places on justice, and the need for us to be generous, and to earn the blessings we enjoy from our place in the world:
In accordance with the proclamation of the President of the States, and in compliance with a venerable custom, I, Hazen S. Pingree, Governor of the State of Michigan, hereby designate and appoint Thursday, the twenty-ninth day of November, 1900, as a day of thanksgiving and praise to the God of men and nations, for the manifold blessings received during the past year.
Let us this day be thankful for the abundant yield of our fields, and for the freedom from pestilence and famine.
Let us remember the ready response which has come from sympathetic hearts, touched by the calamities of our fellow citizens, the generous contribution to those whose homes have been destroyed by tempest and flood, and the development of humanity in the of methods which alleviate the sufferings attendant upon war.
Let us as we unite in our services of thanksgiving and praise, remember with gratitude the growing sense of justice among all classes of men, and the establishment of higher ideals of social life.
While we remember these blessings with thankfulness, let gratitude inspire us to so utilize our high powers of citizenship that we may be more worthy of the place we now hold among nations of the world.
How did Detroiters celebrate Thanksgiving? Besides the usual praying, feasting, and drinking, you could shoot your own turkey at the bar.
(*Side note: It was not unusual for state or local governments to declare a day of public Thanksgiving for any number of blessings and lucky strokes. In July 1849, an outbreak of cholera seemed to have passed Detroit by, and the city closed its schools and proclaimed a day of Thanksgiving that it had so far avoided the scourge. No such luck, as it turned out; in July, people started to die.)
Happy Thanksgiving, friends and readers! I am grateful for all of you. Also grateful that Detroit no longer suffers from cholera outbreaks.
Tags: first thanksgiving michigan, hazen pingree, lewis cass, thanksgiving, thanksgiving detroit
James Monroe: the first President to visit Detroit. Also: last President to wear the old Revolutionary tri-corner.
Unanticipated intelligence was received, about 8 A.M., that President Monroe, with Governor Cass and Generals Brown and Macomb with their suites, were at the mouth of the river, and would be within three miles of the city at ten o’clock. A meeting of citizens was immediately called … to make suitable arrangements for a reception. At ten o’clock a large number of citizens, in carriages, on horseback, and on foot, collected at Springwell’s and proceeded to the river Ecorce, where the presidential party had arrived in barges from the vessel.
… At night the city was illuminated – the bill for which, paid to Abraham Edwards by order of the Common Council, amounted to the sum of $23.26; the vessels in the harbor were tastefully decorated with lights, and there was a display of fireworks.
… He remained in Detroit five days, during which time he received many testimonials of regard, among which was the gift of a carriage and span of horses, presented by the city.
– Silas Farmer on Detroit’s first Presidential visit in 1817
Andrew Jackson: In 1835, he removed Stevens T. Mason, territorial Governor, from office, trying to avoid a conflagration with Ohio.
What a jerk.
George Washington: There’s a statue of him (as Master Mason no less) in front of Mariner’s Church. On the Riverfront we also have a bust of Abraham Lincoln, which I did not know until I read this post from One More Spoke.
Lewis Cass: Never President. Ran as Democratic Party’s nominee in 1848. Lost to Zachary Taylor, future namesake of Taylor, Michigan.
Happy President’s Day!
Tags: andrew jackson, james monroe, lewis cass, presidents day, stevens t mason, zachary taylor
Hi everyone. Guess what we’re not going to talk about today? Summer being over.
Let’s talk about a few other things.
1. For two weekends in a row, we had visitors in town. As you know, I love visitors. Some things I would recommend based on this recent round of visits, in case you ever find yourself crafting a visitors’ agenda, include:
Renting bikes from the Wheelhouse and riding to Belle Isle. Clamoring to the top of the ziggurat on the Riverwalk. The DIA — open late on Friday night. As always, and forever, the People Mover. The Guardian Building. Scott’s Folly.
(Photo by Emily C. Eagle, great visitor, and great friend.)
Late-night donuts from Dutch Girl at 7 Mile and Woodward. A shot of Jezynowka and a pony of High Life in Hamtramck. (A jumbo pierogi and a ride on a Ferris wheel also recommended, but Hamtramck Labor Day Fest comes but once a year.) Wait at Slows is like 2 hours? Try El Barzon. Build your own bloodies at the Bronx, or just order a few rounds of Blatz.
The planes at the Henry Ford. My lord.
2. Have you heard about the National Preservation Trust’s “This Place Matters” Community Challenge? Whereby a $25,000 grant will be awarded to the community preservation project that gets the most votes online? A number of Detroit sites are on the ballot, including Historic Fort Wayne, the Highland Park plant, Michigan Central Station, and Clark Park. You have until September 15 to vote, if that’s your kind of thing.
I kind of have mixed feelings about it, mostly because voting on the website is goddamn impossible to figure out, and also, I’m not sure any one of those places matters more than any of those other places, not to mention all of the hundreds of participating places across the country. Still, I guess it’s just $25,000, so why get gray hairs about it? Are you voting? Anyone want to make any endorsements?
3. Put this on your calendar right now: The Lost Detroit release party is at City Bird on Thursday, September 16, from 4 to 9 p.m. Buy a book at the event & get a postcard! Plus, Dan (author of Lost Detroit) and the Linns (proprietors of City Bird) are really nice people who do good things. I am also a nice person, by the way. And I’ll be there. In case you want to say hello.
4. Fun fact, apropos of nothing (except, perhaps, a successful, gun-casualty-free Arts Beats & Eats Fest):
Lewis Cass gave Royal Oak its name when he found a big oak tree there that reminded him of the famed “Royal Oak” beneath which King Charles II hid from Oliver Cromwell during the Battle of Worcester in 1666.
Who knew that Lewis Cass was such a dweeb?
Come back tomorrow for Michigan Governors & more.
Fondly,
The Night Train.
Tags: battle of worcester, city bird, dutch girl donuts, henry ford, jezynowka, lewis cass, lost detroit, national preservation trust, royal oak, scott's folly, this place matters community challenge, visitors
Life in the Michigan Territory was tough. It was muddy all the time, the natives could be hostile (and who can blame them), the British were right across the river threatening to swoop in on your little frontier town, and everyone was a big drunk mess.
It’s little wonder that William Woodbridge packed up for the Territory somewhat reluctantly when he was appointed Secretary of the Territory by President Madison. Woodbridge was a little bewildered: he hadn’t applied for any jobs in the Territory, and apparently he had no idea that anyone else had applied on his behalf. But he was still pretty close friends with his former schoolmate Lewis Cass, who advised him to just take the damn job, and besides, the bracing Detroit winters would be good for his health. So he put two and two together, figured that Cass had recommended him, and took the damn job.
His wife Juliana Trumbull stayed behind at their home in Marietta, Ohio. (She was, by the way, the daughter of the poet John Trumbull, for whom Trumbull Avenue was named.) He wrote her this letter in 1815 describing life in Detroit. I couldn’t pick a passage I liked more than any other passage (except for the part about how much everyone likes to party, which I have bolded for your convenience), so here it is in full. From The Life of William Woodbridge, by Charles Lanman, 1867:
March 5, 1815
Detroit, Michigan TerritoryDear J. —
The town of Detroit is by no means so large as from my first letter to you from this place, you might have supposed. The proper town does not include so many houses by any means as Marietta. I was led to an error on this subject by the circumstance that for two miles below, and at least as many above, there is one continued village, scarcely any place in that distance larger than from our house to our barn intervening between the farm houses. Imagine to yourself a single tier of farms fronting on the strait or river Detroit, having for front of from one and one half to three square acres, and extending back from thirty to eighty square acres, few of which farms are cleared for a distance greater than one mile back, the houses and buildings placed along the river bank in front of each farm, and you will have some idea of the manner our farms are laid out. They extend in this manner very many miles, from the mouth of Detroit river along lake St. Clair and up the river Sinclair. The houses are almost universally of one story — most of them have been standing from ten to eighty years — fashioned a little like the houses of the low Dutch about New York, Long Island, Bergen, in New Jersey, and I suppose Albany. The inhabitants being mostly Catholics, you see many traces of their religion, for instance many an old moss grown crucifix, which on their gate posts, barns or houses have withstood the storms of a century.
The British side of the river, except that you see more traces of modern improvement, greatly resembles this side. The wide river, the points, and the distant islands look beautifully. The natural beauty of this country will delight you. But of the society — what shall I tell you? One would think that the lives of this people consist in one constant succession of amusements — dances, rides, dinners, card parties, and all the et cetera of dissipation follow in one long train, treading each on the heels of the other.
Tell Jane in answer to her inquiries that Mrs. May is a good religious French lady, that she talks to me always in French and I to her always in English, and yet that we get along without any sort of quarrelling. Mrs. Sibley and her little family are all well — they live in a snug little one story house at the upper end of the town.
Affectionately yours,
W. Woodbridge
Lanman writes that, unlike his “robust” friend Lewis Cass, Woodbridge was “possessed of a somewhat frail constitution, was a great lover of the quiet of home, and never so happy as when busy among his books.”
Woodbridge was elected Governor of the State of Michigan in 1840, leading Whig fever across the state (William Henry Harrison became President later that year). He remained in office for only a year before he resigned to take a seat on the U.S. Senate in February, 1841 (two months before William Henry Harrison became the shortest-lived President in American history).
I’m writing about him as part of what may become some occasional attention paid (let’s not call it a series yet, hmm?) to Michigan governors I like. Seeing as we’ll have a new one of those by the end of the year. But I’ll leave that matter to Woodward’s Friend.
Next time you’re enjoying yourself at Woodbridge Pub, raise a glass to this guy, won’t you?
Seriously, how could you not love this face?
Tags: 1815, drunk settlers, early detroit, french catholics, john trumbull, juliana trumbull, lewis cass, michigan governors, michigan territory, the life of william woodbridge, whig party, william woodbridge
The public are respectfully informed that the Garden continues open to visitors. The Museum, consisting of some of the finest specimens of Ornithology, Minerals, Coins, natural and artificial curiosities, and a Grand Cosmorama occupying one building of the Garden, another containing thirty seven wax figures of some of the most interesting characters. The Garden will be illuminated every fair evening and a band of music will heighten the enjoyment of a walk through upwards of three thousand feet of promenade walk.
Refreshments as usual. The Baths are likewise in order for company.
Aug 19., 1840
(From Silas Farmer’s History of Detroit and Michigan, 1884. Unrelated illustration from the Library of Congress.)
David McKinstry came to Detroit from Hudson, New York in 1815 with his wife and four children. He didn’t have any money or a bankable trade, but he was a hard worker and an apparently ambitious guy. He joined the fire department, was soon appointed inspector of the port, and eventually attracted the attention of Lewis Cass, who placed him as commissioner on several territorial projects, including the Saginaw Road and the establishment of a county seat. I suppose in a sloppy harbor settlement of a few thousand people, it might not be too hard to get your name out there. Nonetheless, David McKinstry made his name. He served as a contractor on the county court house, established a ferry across the river (operated by French ponies, somehow) and was elected alderman in 1824.
But besides his generally industrious city- and state-building endeavors, McKinstry busied himself with an entertainment empire that must have been a huge spectacle at the time: the Michigan Garden, with its accompanying theater, circus, menagerie and museum of curiosities. (It may have been the city’s first “museum” proper; it opened in 1834.)
David McKinstry came to my attention via History of Detroit for Young People, which I just checked out of the library again. His collection of bathtubs, novel at the time, is really what started this whole inquiry:
The earliest tub in the United States was built in 1842, in a house in Cincinnati. It was a large and expensive arrangement in a mahogany case and its owner showed it to his guests at a Christmas party. He invited them to try it out, and several men did so. The newspapers went after him and said we were a simple republican people and that we ought to be ashamed to imitate the foolish luxuries of Europe.
… While Cincinnati was proudly boasting about her new stationary bathtubs, Major David C. McKinstry, a prominent Detroiter, not to be outdone, in the early forties put a number of wooden tubs in a small building facing his amusement park … One could take a bath and have a band concert near at hand, while the clatter of dishes, the cries of the animals in the little zoo, and the chatter of merrymakers in the park echoed pleasantly through the thin walls. You would not mind a bath with such a happy setting, would you?
David McKinstry’s museum and most of its collection was destroyed by a fire in 1842. Oh, and his son Justus McKinstry was a controversial Civil War general who may or may not be responsible for the phrase “pork barrel spending.” A lot more information about the McKinstry family is available in Rogue, a biography of the General, here.
Now I’m kind of excited about early circuses, museums and public gardens. If you know about any good ones, why are you keeping it to yourself?
Tags: bathtubs history, cosmorama, david mckinstry, detroit circus, general justus mckinstry, lewis cass, menageries, michigan garden, museums, saginaw road, silas farmer, theater
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