This week we are doing another old building that was downtown until the 1960s. It was a fancy stone building with incredibly detailed ornamental carvings. Which building was this and where was it located?
This picture was from the Milwaukee Journal of August 3, 1924 and shows an old picture of the first streetcar in the city. It was operated by the Milwaukee City Railroad Company and was originally powered by horses.
I’m back! A big thanks to Chris for handling things very well while I have been gone.
This week I have a picture from a book from way back in 1910. It shows a downtown building that housed the Fairbanks-Frey Engraving Company and was torn down just a short few years after this photo was published. It was an interesting 19th century building of cream city brick and a gabled mansard roof. A big clue is the entrance to The Orpheum in the front of the building which should at least get people guessing in the right vicinity. Where in Milwaukee was this building located?
This week we’re near downtown, looking at a dense, bustling neighborhood, complete with a liquor store, a restaurant, an auto service garage, a bakery, a grocery, and laundry- all on a streetcar line.
The view today is quite a bit different-only the corner apartment building and auto service garage building remain.
In fact, the business that went on to occupy the the auto service garage space for 39 years got quite a bit of press coverage when it closed suddenly this past spring…
Where are we looking?
This week’s mystery photo was taken sometime in the 1940s, somewhere on the city’s south side. Schultz’s Tavern is on the right and a drug store is on the left. The #14 streetcar is westbound. Many of the buildings you see are still there, although they’re looking a bit scruffy nowadays.
Any guesses? Good Luck!
This Monday’s mystery picture shows someplace downtown and we are looking north at an interesting building with art deco terra-cotta ornamentation. The corner is occupied by Bloedel’s Jewelers. A # 40 street car is southbound. Only a few of the buildings shown still exist. Where are we looking?
This photo was taken in 1940 somewhere downtown and shows a couple of interesting apartment buildings. The one on the left was the Hollywood apartments and you’ll notice something odd about the bottom floors. The porticos on the second floor seem to be very grand, as if they were the main entrance. When they were built they actually were the main entrances! An elevation change on the street shown required all the buildings to change their main entrances to be one floor lower than where they were originally. Where was this street?
The VA Hospital grounds in Woods has seen many veterans pass through its buildings and grounds, many of whom have stayed for the eternal rest. Many have died of their war-time injuries and others of natural causes but there are those who died of suicide of various means. A popular means of suicide at the turn of the century was by drowning and a pond on the grounds became known as the “Suicide Pond”. This article tells the story of that pond.
Milwaukee Sentinel, October 26, 1901
SUICIDE POND LURES VETERANS
_____________________________Beautiful Lake at National Home Attracts Weary Ex-Soldiers.
ITS DEATH LIST IS LONG
Two Places on Grounds Noted for the Number of Tragedies – Rachford the Last.
The death of James Rachford, which the coroner yesterday decided was a suicide, adds one more to the long list of old soldiers who have taken their lives in the beautiful and idyllic surroundings of the Soldiers’ home. Within the past eighteen or twenty years many a war-rearred veteran has buried himself in the placid waters of the artificial lakes in these grounds, which at night are so ghoulish and lonely in appearance, and now the veterans of the civil war who are living at this home call one of these lakes “suicide pond.”
By day it is merry and gay, but at night still and dark, and frogs croak and crickets ring. Most of the suicides by drowning have been at night, and it is said that the beauty of the grounds is a thing which attracts men to this place, and some have returned here for the sole purpose of dying in the sentimental surroundings.
“Suicide pond” lies to the west of the path that leads from the street car station to the big buildings which house the 2,000 or more veterans who fought in the civil war and have become disabled therefrom, or have not been over successful in life since. It would take days to go through the records and find the exact number of men who have become tired of continuing in their seemingly useless life, and ended their earthly existence in this beautiful stretch of water – men who with valor faced death by bullet and exposure through the long and weary campaigns of the sixties, but finally saw the futility of their escape in those exciting days.
Favorite Pond for Suicides.
There is another little pond back of the buildings, and over toward the cemetery, which has been the grave of many a disheartened soldier, and several rows of white headstones on the eastern side of the little hillock near Calvary show where the bodies of these unrecognized heroes lie. This is also a pretty little pond, and it is lonely and apart from the scenes of activity around the home. One other pond is in the park surrounding the home, but no cases of suicide have taken place there.
On a summer afternoon when the beauty and the chivalry of all South Side has gathered in the park, the bands playing inspiring military airs, and the surface of the little lake is dotted with graceful white swans and row boats occupied by the languishing swain and his fiancee, there is not the slightest suggestion of the gruesome finds that are made there some mornings. The lake is alive with laughter and fun, and the old soldiers who lie about on the bank and gaze dreamily at the little ripples chasing one another from the prow of a skiff toward the shore, speculate who will be the next to be pulled from the sparkling waters.
Seek Beauty Spot to Die.
The grizzled veterans who live at the retreats provided by the government make up an itinerant body of men, and they go from home to home in search of peace, which is hard to find among so many men who have little to do but talk over their troubles. It is said by men at the home that such a beauty spot is the little lake; that veterans who have searched in vain all over this broad country for peace in life have returned to Milwaukee and sought peace in the ideal little sheet of water, where they bury with them the stories of fortune or misfortune in war and peace.
Governor Wheeler was not at the home yesterday, and figures on the number of veterans who have ended their lives in this pond were not available, but there have been scores of them.
The last man to commit suicide on the grounds was James Rachford, who was a member of Company G of the Twenty-fourth Massachusetts volunteer infantry, and was 86 years old. He selected for his piece of eternal rest the little pond over near Calvary, but his remains will be buried at the angular, black and white plot where his comrades lie.
This wonderful story about a rather unique woman sounds like some type of movie line. It differs slightly, as the railroad does not appear to be as evil as usually portrayed in the movies. I hope “Switch Annie” lived happily ever after. Maybe some one knows.
Milwaukee Sentinel February 3, 1895
“SWITCH ANNIE” WEDS
Anna P. Gsandtner, better known in railroad circles as “Switch Annie,” is a bride. She was married on Jan. 25 to Charles W. Green, a yard Foreman in the employ of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul road.
“Switch Annie” is one of the most unique characters in the West. For years she has enjoyed the reputation of being the only regularly employed woman switchtender in the country. She has been in the service of the St. Paul road for about fifteen years and has had charge of a set of the most complicated switches on the system, but never had an accident happen near her post of duty. She has performed hard manual labor in all kinds of weather and did it with such ability that she soon won the distinction of being one of the most faithful employees of the road. She was paid the regular salary of $50 a month for twenty-six day’s work and extra pay for all over time.
“Switch Annie” became a switch thrower by fate. She was the successor of her father, who was killed near the switches she attended to. She is now about 32 years of age. When a girl of about twelve summers she assisted her invalid father at this work. Her father had been injured by a train, and so the company promised to employ him as long as he lived. He was placed in charge of the switches just east of the West Milwaukee shops and the company built him a home near by. Annie often assisted him in his work and became familiar with the switches, so one day years ago when he was struck by a train and killed she was ready to take his place. Being left without means of support Annie applied to the company for work and was placed in full charge of the switches. As the traffic in the the yard where she was stationed increased her position became more responsible, but she was always equal to the occasion. Up to three years ago she threw the switches alone, but at that time the work became too much for one person, so she was given an assistant. She resigned her position last summer when she became engaged to Green, who was the yardmaster and her superior. Her husband is about 40 years of age and up to the time of her marriage was a widower. Father Naughton performed the ceremony.
Dennis Pajot
Here is an abridged portion of an article from 1890 talking about some of the hotels in Milwaukee.
December 14, 1890 – Milwaukee Sentinel
HOTELS OF MILWAUKEE
Inns Which Have Been Famous In Their Time.
TRADITIONS CONNECTED WITH SOME OF THEM.
An
Indian’s Life Saved By His Sweetheart on the Site of the Pfister
Hotel-Abner Kirby’s Arrival In Milwaukee and His First ventures-The
Cottage Inn and the Milwaukee House-The More Modern Hotels.
The northwest corner of Jefferson and Wisconsin streets, from which a year from now the Pfister will rise up in all its grandeur, presented a curious appearance one day in 1841. It was a small clearing, surrounded by a thick growth of underbrush. In the midst of the clearing a young and stalwart Indian lay, motionless and with his eyes closed. On top of his body lay prostrate a squaw, moaning and lamenting. Near them stood a number of Indian braves, patiently waiting for the squaw to abandon the body beneath her. It was that of a young chief who, the night before, had killed and scalped two Indians, belonging to the Pottawatomie tribe. He had been pursued by friends of his victims and was about to be dispatched by them when his sweetheart , the fair Unacanana, leaped between him and his pursuers and threw her arms upon him. That saved him for the time being, for the squaw knew full well that no one would harm him as long as her body was in the way. The brave girl kept up her lamentations through the night and all day following. She and her lover were destined to be saved. After sunset an unusually heavy fog began to envelop everything with its misty and impenetrable shroud, and under cover of it the loving couple managed to make their escape, the close watch of the bucks notwithstanding. The Pfister corner is also associated with other historical occurrences. According to Indian traditions two bloody battles between red men were terminated on that spot, and it is possible that evidence therof will be found while the work of excavation is progressing. It was there on Oct. 13, 1844, that the last Indian dance was held, witnessed by many of the settlers, some of whom doubtless remembered it.
Milwaukee has always been blessed-if you please-with inns and hostelries. In 1844 one could find board at almost any of the houses, not to speak of the several regularly established hotels, and the rates at the latter were not so different from those of today as one would suppose. Of course, there was no clerk with the proverbial diamond pin; nor were there a host of colored boys who responded quickly to the call of “front;” there were no electric bells in the rooms, nor bath tubs; the beds were not supplied with spring mattresses, but had a good straw tick resting on a few stout and elastic ropes stretched out underneath them; Brussels carpets would have been scoffed at by the landlord and boarders alike, rough pine floorings being good enough for those days. But there was plenty to eat at all times; a numberless army of bed bugs had to be fought with then just as to-day, and, last but not least, the landlords knew how to charge for their accommodations, the same as their successors are in the habit of doing. “Es ist alles schon dagewesen” applies here. When Abner Kirby first came to Milwaukee in 1843 the vessel which brought him from Buffalo anchored at the foot of Huron street, and he and the other passengers were transferred to the “Trowbridge,” a little steamer which conveyed them up the river to Chestnut street. “I jumped ashore, “Mr. Kirby relates, “and requested one of the Indian loafers that stood around there to call a carriage for me. He looked at me with utter contempt, and walked away. I finally flung my trunk over my shoulders and started to find a boarding house. Of course, runners were already in existence, and I was presuaded to try the Cottage Inn. the first night while there I slept on a table in the dining hall, wrapped up in a buckskin blanket. The next morning I kicked up a row, but as it didn’t do me any good I left and transferred my patronage to the Bellevue house.”
“The Cottage inn” had before that been called the “Triangle,” because of the triangle which served for a bell. It was built by Jacques Vieau, in 1835, at the corner of East Water and Huron streets. In 1836 John and Luther Childs enlarged it and called it the Cottage inn. It was more noisy, if possible, than ever before. The “hotel” was always crowded, although a miserable structure in every respect. While under the management of Spurr & Taft, it burned to the ground, on April 6, 1845. The entire district was built up with frame houses and barns, and everything melted away before the flames. James B. Cross soon afterwards erected the United States hotel on the old site. A large business was done within its walls, until the railroads caused the newcomers to patronize the west side more and more. At the second “great fire,” on Aug. 24, 1854, the United States hotel was destroyed, and it was never rebuilt. The first real hotel on the east side was the Bellevue house, later on called the Milwaukee house, on the corner of Broadway and Wisconsin street, the present site of the old library building. It was erected by Solomon Juneau and Morgan L. Martin. Elisha Starr and Sidney A. Hosmer occupied it for hotel purposes in 1836. The last landlord was Peter Jones.
Mr. A.C. Wheeler furnishes the following sketch concerning the Milwaukee house:
“In
1841 it fell into good hands. Caleb Wall (the father of E.C. Wall) came
from springfield, Ill., with the determination of starting a temperance
hotel. After considerable dickering he bought the hotel from Hurley and
Ream and commenced his operations for the establishment of a hotel on
‘moral principles.’ The place was refitted and replenished. Before
opening the doors a code of laws for the government of the establishment
and its happy inmates was made out. This code, among other excellent
things, stated that ‘all guests of this hotel shall be in at 10 o’clock
every night,’ it being a maxim with the host that those who could not
comply with so simple and judicious a condition, were unworthy the
hospitality of the institution. the starting of a hotel on such a plan
attracted considerable attention. The proprieter, undeterred by
insinuations that his plan was folly and that the venture would not pay,
pushed forward his project, posted his code conspicuously and swung
open his doors. He was firm in his resolve, and punctually at the
appointed hour locked and barred the doors. But the guests, while they
admired the system, were unable to comply with its demands. Unable to
enter by the doors they had recourse to ladders and ropes at night, by
which they got in at the back windows. one night, while looking out of
his window, the worthy Caleb was so astonished to see half his boarders
at work raising a heavy ladder against the piazza, that he modified the
code and agve them another hour. This one modification in regard to the
hour led to others, and by insensible degrees the house underwent a
transit from one extreme of temperance to the other extreme of
intemperance, until it became the most notoriously jolly and reckless
institution in town-the boarders doing just as they pleased-and the old
building itself reeling night after night with the mad revelry of gay
parties and gushing music. The temperance hotel at last rejoiced in a
regular bar with decanters, and then it was discovered that a majority
of the guests had suddenly reformed in one particular, and evinced a
decided reluctance to being out late, and some of them were opposed to
being out at all.
“In 1849 the structure was moved down into the Third ward, and a small portion of it is still standing in a fair state of preservation.”