Dawn O’Hara – The Girl Who Laughed

Dawn

I am in the middle of reading this fun book by Edna Ferber, Dawn O’Hara – The Girl Who Laughed. It was Ms. Ferber’s first book written in 1911 when she was working as a newspaper reporter in Milwaukee. Much of the book takes place in the Milwaukee of the time and probably was based on many of her experiences. The title character was also a newspaper reporter and the story follows her as she tries to keep her sanity through her many adventures. It gives a unique but accurate view of the city at the time:

There is a fascination about the bright little city. There is about it
something quaint and foreign, as though a cross-section of the old world
had been dumped bodily into the lap of Wisconsin. It does not seem at
all strange to hear German spoken everywhere–in the streets, in the
shops, in the theaters, in the street cars. One day I chanced upon a
sign hung above the doorway of a little German bakery over on the north
side. There were Hornchen and Kaffeekuchen in the windows, and a brood
of flaxen-haired and sticky children in the back of the shop. I stopped,
open-mouthed, to stare at the worn sign tacked over the door.

“Hier wird Englisch gesprochen,” it announced.

I blinked. Then I read it again. I shut my eyes, and opened them again
suddenly. The fat German letters spoke their message as before–“English
spoken here.”

On reaching the office I told Norberg, the city editor, about my
find. He was not impressed. Norberg never is impressed. He is the most
soul-satisfying and theatrical city editor that I have ever met. He
is fat, and unbelievably nimble, and keen-eyed, and untiring. He says,
“Hell!” when things go wrong; he smokes innumerable cigarettes, inhaling
the fumes and sending out the thin wraith of smoke with little explosive
sounds between tongue and lips; he wears blue shirts, and no collar to
speak of, and his trousers are kept in place only by a miracle and an
inefficient looking leather belt.

When he refused to see the story in the little German bakery sign I
began to argue.

“But man alive, this is America! I think I know a story when I see it.
Suppose you were traveling in Germany, and should come across a sign
over a shop, saying: ‘Hier wird Deutsch gesprochen.’ Wouldn’t you think
you were dreaming?”

Norberg waved an explanatory hand. “This isn’t America. This is
Milwaukee. After you’ve lived here a year or so you’ll understand what
I mean. If we should run a story of that sign, with a two-column cut,
Milwaukee wouldn’t even see the joke.”

It is a fun book by a very talented writer and because it is now in the public domain, can be downloaded for free in many formats on Project Gutenburg including spoken audio files. I highly recommend anyone interested in reading home grown fiction to download this. Ms. Ferber eventually wrote many popular books, some which became famous films in their own rights such as Show Boat, Cimarron, and Giant which starred three immortal film stars; Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson and James Dean.

Ferber

Lakeside Hospital on Prospect Avenue

Upper Prospect Avenue in the 1890s around Woodstock Place was sparsely settled. It was near the end of the Farwell Avenue car line with the carbarn located where the Oriental Theater now stands at Ivanhoe and Farwell. Because there wasn’t much there it was a good location for hospitals and rest homes. In November 1894, Dr. Horace Manchester Brown opened his new surgical hospital at the northeast corner of Woodstock & Prospect and named it the Manchester Brown hospital. It was a small hospital that looked more like a German hunting lodge than a medical facility but the inside was modern for the time and cost $18,000 to build. What made it unique was the fact that it was the first strictly non-sectarian hospital in the city.

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In 1915, Ford Motor Company bought the property across the street and began plans to build a large automobile plant there. Dr. Brown pushed hard against the proposed plant and filed a lawsuit which he didn’t win but the furor led to stricter zoning laws preventing manufacturing from being built that close to a residential district. Shortly after the factory opened Dr. Brown closed the hospital. In a strange twist of fate the factory was taken by the federal government late in 1918 to be used for a medical hospital during the war. Meanwhile in 1919 the old hospital had been bought by the Country Day School for use as a Junior School until it moved to new facilities in Whitefish Bay in 1932. The building sat vacant until it was torn down in 1934 for the proposed Milwaukee Western Fuel Company offices. That building was a modern art-deco building designed by Milwaukee architect Herbert W. Tullgren.

Country Day School
COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL

Big thanks to Gary Rebholz for providing a picture from his research on Milwaukee’s German Newspapers and the idea for this article!

Public Library Display on 70th Anniversary of End of World War 2

The Central Library has a small display on the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II. It’s in the 2nd floor hallway near the Humanities Room entrance. It focuses on FDR’s death, his Four Freedoms, includes Norman Rockwell’s Four Freedoms poster series and their first appearances in The Saturday Evening Post.

Next month’s focus will be on V-E Day & Gertie the Duck. June may be a bric-a-brac on the home front, death camps & Okinawa. July will be on Potsdam and Churchill’s Tories losing the 1945 UK election before wrapping up in August w/the A-Bombs & V-J Day.

Display materials are from the Milwaukee Public Library’s magazine and newspaper collections, Historic Poster Collection, Historic Photo Collection and Historical Sheet Music Collection.

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Milwaukee’s Supermodel

Most may have heard about Martin Tullgren and his sons, the family of early 20th century architects who made an impact on the landscape of the city. They are well know for a variety of incredibly decorative masterpieces such as the Watts Building at the northwest corner of Mason & Jefferson and the Bertelson Building on Prospect & Windsor Place. The two sons who took over the business when their father Martin died in 1922 were Herbert and Minard. Minard died scant years later in 1928 at the age of 41 of a heart attack leaving behind a wife and two young sons and two much younger daughters.

His oldest daughter, Barbara was only four at his death but grew up to be a beautiful young woman of 17 in 1941. She entered and won a statewide beauty contest for the American Legion where she won in a pool of 50 contestants. She became the queen and official hostess when the American Legion had their national convention here in September of that year. After graduating from Shorewood High School she studied for a time at Layton School of Art in fashion design before her big break came.

In March 1943, her mother persuaded her to enter a contest at the Riverside theater to select an entrant most closely resembling a Powers model, the largest model agency in the country located in New York. Of course she easily won against 69 other contestants and won a trip to New York to meet with John Powers. She set out for the big apple with her aunt as chaperone but once there she at once was brought to the headquarters of the agency where she met John Powers. When he set eyes on her he exclaimed, “My God, where did you come from? So you want to stay in New York?”, and her career was launched. Within a week she was modeling for Vogue and meeting celebrities and Hollywood stars. Her rise was so quick it was like a fairy tale.

Tullgren

The Lion in the Public Library

If you got to read the January issue of the Historic Milwaukee, Inc. newsletter, “Echo” you already know the story told by Dan Lee of Sim the lion who lived on the roof of the Central Library in the late 1920’s. If not you may want to see this news story from Fox 6 telling the story last month. The Milwaukee Public Museum also has a video posted on Youtube with rare, original film of Sim when he was just a cub.

Caution for cute lion cub pictures.
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Florence Killilea

Several years back, Dennis Pajot had written a great bio of Florence Killilea, the president of the Milwaukee Brewers for the 1929 and 1930 seasons. Sadly, she left us in 1931 when she was much too young and never had the chance to show her true potential. The sketch shown below was from the Wisconsin News in May 2, 1929.

Killilea

Police Court Scenes 1915

One of my favorite columns from the Milwaukee Daily News was the Police Court Scenes. Reporters from several dailies at the time always found interesting stories at the Police Court every day. Sometimes they were sad stories of abuse and sometimes odd and funny stories unfolded in the courtroom. This story was one of the latter. Enjoy!

Milwaukee Daily News, June 24, 1915

police_court

The wheels of justice were grinding out their grist of verdicts and decisions and fines; the courtroom was silent but for the drone of low-voiced witnesses and the occasional sharp rap of the deputy’s hammer. Suddenly the spectators, the attorney and the judge were astonished to hear irrelevant words apparently spring from the lips of a witness who had just been sworn.

“Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub; the cow jumped over the moon,” was what it sounded like.

The judge glanced up sharply. The lips of the witness twitched and he looked startled.

“Honest. I didn’t say a word!” he stammered.

The court was framing a reprimand when another interruption came. This time a solemn, gray-haired police sergeant, who was sitting in one of the front rows, seemed to shout:

“I’m getting tired of hanging around this blamed court. If something doesn’t happen soon, I’ll pull my revolver and start something!”

Everybody turned his way. The sergeant almost fell off the bench. But attention was distracted when from underneath one of the benches came sounds indicating a dog fight. There were whines, barks and yelps of pain. The deputies made for the spot and nearly collapsed when they found no trace of a canine.

“Spooks!” they gasped.

“Right-o!” cried a dapper little fellow who popped out of the bull pen, hat in hand and smiling blandly. “Reginald Spooks of Spokane, that’s me. Cops nabbed me last night for being drunk. Didn’t know who I was. Here’s my card,” and he handed a pasteboard to the judge.

“‘Reginald Spooks, ventriloquist,'” read the judge. “Oh!” he exclaimed as an afterthought, “that explains it.”

“I can throw my voice forty ways,” grinned Spooks. “Some dog fight that was, eh? Ha! Ha! I’m clever – what?”

“You may entertain the prisoners at the workhouse for fifteen days,” said the judge.

Milwaukee Architect – Herman W. Buemming

Buemming2

Milwaukee has had its share of architects with german heritage who have helped to shape the style and development of the city. Herman Weis Buemming worked for the most part in the early part of the 20th century designing many commercial buildings and homes which remain as part of the landscape. His hand is seen most densely in the downtown area between 3rd Street, Plankinton, Kilbourn and Wells Street. In that area, three of his buildings remain; the Pietsch Building at 826 N. Plankinton, the Chalet at the River across the street at 823 N. 2nd St. and the Watkins Building at the corner of 3rd and Kilbourn. A few others still stand nearby on West Wisconsin Avenue although their appearances have been much changed.

His buildings remain because they are utilitarian enough to be adapted to changing purposes. The Chalet at the River was originally a furniture manufacturing and sales company and has since been re-purposed to apartments and stores. The buildings are sedately commercial in style without extra terra cotta ornamentation that was in vogue at the time. Because of the lack of ostentatious style they are easy to overlook but that is part of their strength. They are built solid with a reinforced concrete structure that withstands the passage of time.

Herman was the first son of German emigres, Julius and Charlotte Buemming, born in Toledo, Ohio on September 5, 1872. Julius was a salesman who came to America in 1868. The family eventually settled in Milwaukee in 1884 when Herman was 12 and there the parents had two more children; Carl W. and Charlotte.

After Herman graduated from the Sixteenth District School in 1888, he apprenticed for a short time as a draftsman with Charles A. Gombert and then became a head draftsman at Pabst Brewing Company. In 1891 he enrolled as a “special student” at Columbia University architectural school in New York City where he studied for three years. After leaving Columbia he worked as a Superintendent until 1896 in the office of well known New York architect, George P. Post who designed many famous Beaux Arts style buildings in New York but also designed the Wisconsin State Capitol.

In December 1896, Herman returned to Milwaukee with enough experience to start his own business in partnership with Gustave Dick. They worked together until 1907 and designed buildings such as the former Century Hall on Farwell near North Avenue and the Otto Pietsch building at 826 N. Plankinton. He also designed his own “honeymoon house” at 1012 East Pleasant Street in 1901 where he lived with his wife, Gertrude after they married on April 27th. The following year their son, John Durr Buemming was born.

When his partnership with Gustave Dick dissolved in 1907, Herman spent some time traveling in Europe and working on his own designing homes and buildings such as the Watkins Building which stands on the southeast corner of Third and Kilbourn and the Chalet at the River (formerly CW Fischer Furniture store) at 823 N. 2nd Street. He eventually partnered with Alexander C. Guth in 1918 and they worked together until 1927. Together they designed buildings such as the Bartlett Building at 176 W. Wisconsin Avenue which still exists although its exterior was modernized in 1983.

Once his son John graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1926 and was ready to start working in the family business he was under pressure to succeed as his father had. The pressure along with health problems led John to commit suicide in 1933 at the family home. At a time when the Great Depression was at its peak and when commissions were very difficult to find, Herman most likely felt extreme hopelessness over his son’s death. During the period between the stock market crash in 1927 until 1934, only one large building designed by the architect was built. He continued to work in his own practice for several years until 1939.

His final partnership was formed in 1939 with Clarence W. Jahn and lasted until Herman retired from practice in 1943, possibly after the death of his partner in December. One of the buildings they designed was the Abbotsford Apartments at 722 N. 13th Street which has since been bought by Marquette University and converted to student housing. Herman died after a short illness on April 17, 1947.

Sources:
Building Age, May 1906, p. 145, “Competition in $6500 Houses; Second Prize Design”
Milwaukee Journal, April 17, 1947, Obituary, p. 24
American Institute of Architects online archives
Milwaukee Historic Preservation Commission files

Randolph Hotel Demolition July 1985

Randolph

The Randolph Hotel was one of Milwaukee’s large hotels in the west end of downtown at 4th & Wisconsin. It was built the same year as the Hilton(originally Schroeder Hotel) at 5th Street at a time when downtown was bursting at the seams and growth was at its highest point for the city. This rapid growth would last only a few more years until the stock market crash of 1929. The crash led to the owner of the hotel, Archie Tegtmeyer, to default on payments after which he lost the new hotel. World War II and the post war boom years helped downtown flourish after the Great Depression but by the late 1960s downtown began to stagnate. The late 1970’s were a low point with many of the mid-sized hotels like the Randolph taking on low-income tenants for longer periods of time to make ends meet. The shopping districts which helped to support downtown moved to the suburbs.

By the early 1980’s, with the Grand Avenue Mall project attempting to turn around the decay of downtown, there were plans by the City of Milwaukee to clear adjacent properties to spur continued development. The Randolph Hotel was one of many properties in that urban renewal corridor to be purchased for subsequent demolition. Because of its size, the Randolph could not be demolished easily and it was a candidate for demolition by explosives. The early morning of July 21st, 1985 was a unique event which drew crowds downtown to watch the fireworks. The following animated gif and photo shows how the Randolph Hotel met its end. Thanks to John Harley for the picture.

Randolph

Amateur Night at the Star Theater, 1906

If anyone has watched American Idol or even grew up watching the Gong Show, you know how amateur night works and how funny it can be. Back in 1906, there were several burlesque, vaudeville theaters in Milwaukee which offered their own amateur talent shows giving people the opportunity to perform in front of an audience and win prize money if they were good enough.

The following article from the Milwaukee Free Press covers one night in an anateur talent show at the Star Theater. The Star Theater was located at N. Plankinton Ave. on the east side and north of Michigan St. It was torn down in 1914 for the expansion of Gimbels. The picture below shows how it looked.

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The article that I transcribed here tells about several performers who tried to win the first and second prizes offered and either won or lost horribly. It is fun to try and picture a packed theater watching these amateurs perform!

Milwaukee Free Press, March 25, 1906
Get the hook! A Night With Amateur Thespians at the Burlesque Theater
Hook

It takes a brave amateur to face the audience that assembles at the Star theater on Thursday night. But numerous Milwaukee folks, who think they possess talents, vocal, histrionic, acrobatic or terpsichorean, make their appearance there once a week and endure an ordeal calculated if they survive it to make real professionals of them in one trial.

Thursday night is “amateur” night at the Star, which means that after the close of the regular performance, the amateur aspirants for theater fame are allowed to do their turns, and take what’s coming to them, if they fall short. Most of them do, as a rule, and howls of derision from all over the theater but especially from the gallery, assail the awkward beginner.

“The hook, the hook! Get the hook! Get off!” shout the spectators.

These cries are the signal for the backdrop to be lifted, while a stage hand reaches forth a long pole, terminating in a sickle-like prehensile contrivance that grasps the performer and hustles him away back, while the drop descends and hides him from view.

The scheme works so effectively as to suggest it might be used as a test for some professional players who persist in inflicting themselves on a suffering public, and who might thus be discouraged and induced to go to work for a living.

But the chief purpose of “amateur” night is to furnish hilarious fun for the spectators. For the lamer the efforts of the amateurs, the more excuses to cry “Get the hook!” and enjoy the forcible removal of the tyre from the stage.

But to the closer observer of the player and his art, “amateur” night affords some interesting object lessons. The most conspicuous failing in the novice, even though perhaps possessed of natural aptitude and talent, is lack of confidence. And this is noticeable the instant the performer sets foot in view of the spectators. It is betrayed by the hesitating step, when walking toward the middle of the stage, and by the seeming fear to go as far as the center, as though the performer dared not get too far away from the wings. And then if it is a song the amateur is about a perpetrate, the first two or three bars are scarcely audible.

With the professional, the behavior is in striking contrast to this. There is not a vestige of timidity in his confident stride, ingratiating smile and loud voice. And confidence is half the battle.

Last Thursday night at the Star one of the amateurs was a colored boy, who was down for a song. But he was too timid to walk down the stage in front of the leader, and feared to let his voice out. It was a musical organ, but he had not sung two notes before the crowd in front Began to yell:
“Get the hook! Take him off!” And they did.

The boy’s gingerly walk and feeble beginning betrayed stage fright. That was nuts to the gallery but disastrous to the lad.

A child soprano, a girl of 10 or 11 years, quite pretty also made a bad start, whereat the people in the gallery hooted and clamored for “the hook” but it is not used on girls and she bravely sang two verses though she looked anything but happy. The demonstration made her lose the key in the first verse and the result was torture to the ear.

There were nine acts on the amateur programme, of which the fifth afforded the most hilarity. It was the acme of asinine amateurishness.

Two brothers, it was announced, would oblige with comic songs. They had no sooner appeared than pandemonium began. Their costumes were outlandish, but in the remotest degree funny, and their make-ups hideous, their faces reflecting garish daubs of red paint, in no sense comic, picturesque or human. They were perfect exemplifications of amateurism entirely untamed and uncontrolled. When the orchestra started to play, they did not begin to sing, but looked foolishly at one another, grinned in a silly way over the footlights, until at last the backdrop ascended and one of the freaks was hauled off. But the other remain for fully five minutes longer, not seeming to comprehend that the act was over. It was a pathetic exhibition.

Then came the gem of the programme.

“Mickey Daly will sing,” was the announcement.

And a black-eyed little girl with raven hair and olive complexion, resembling rather a daughter of southern skies, than of the Emerald isle, came out and sang “Cheyenne.” Her voice was full of sympathy and her eyes twinkled expressively as she sang. Deafening applause greeted her, and in response she sang “That Little German Band.” She made no gestures, but her countenance spoke volumes.

The next act was a wire walking performance, by Master Nevaro, Jr., whose brothers are professional equilibrists. The boy performed difficult feats with professional-like confidence. He was awarded the second prize, $2, the first prize, $5, being given to the little Daly girl, by vote of the audience.

G. Reno, a youth of 21 or thereabouts, made his appearance as a buck and wing dancer and the spectators started in to howl him off, but cries of “Get the hook,” didn’t fluster his feet a bit, and they were all he was using. He just smiled and kept on dancing, until finally dexterous steps changed the hooting into applause.

Mr. Schlieve, the “iron jawed man, chair balancer and rod breaker,” appeared on the scene followed by a suckling pig, which he lured about the stage, with a bottle of milk equipped with an attachment which piggie easily to his mouth. The spectators laughed heartily at the pig, who betrayed no amateurish anxiety over his act, and while they laughed, Mr. Schlieve took off his coat and vest, and began to balance aloft, from one to five chairs, their weight all resting on his jaw. So he escaped the peering his absurd facial make-up would have unquestionably provoked had he appeared without his little pig.

The amateur diversion closed with a peppery two-round go between two bantam-weight brothers, that proved thoroughly enjoyable.

The amateurs appear at the stage door of the Star, on Thursday night, before the regular show begins and stage manager Hoolihan takes their names and arranges the order of their turns, which as a rule do not exceed ten in number. they provide their own costumes, though as a rule they appear in their ordinary street attire, and are allowed to make up their faces, should they use grease paint, which they seldom do, unless perchance an amateur imagines he is cut out for a funny man.