Land of the great gray wolf 0943120055

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/]nd of the

[£

great gray Wo J by Liz Howell

j]nJ of the

great gray Wolf by Liz Howell

The Dragonsbreath Press Sister Bay, WI 54234

Copyright

'° # TX-2-419-540

1988 by Liz Howell

All rights reserved. No reproduction of this book in whole or in part, or in any form, may be made without written authorization of the copyright owner.

Published by The Dragonsbreath Press 10905 Bay S hore Drive Sister Bay, Wisconsin 54234 Printed by Algoma Printing, Inc. Algoma, Wisconsin 54201 ISBN 0-943120-05-5

Second Printing

Dedicated to the memory of Pearl Foshion

CONTENTS P~I

7

Legend of the Great Gray Wolf Part II Author's Note Pearl Foshion, pioneer in the twentieth century

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Part III History of Algoma Compiled by Pearl Foshion and Dorothy Ackerman used with permission of Jean Foshion Lindeke insertions and update by Liz Howell

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ILLUSTRATIONS courtesy of Jean and Jim Lindeke Lillian Lidral Photo of Liz Howell by Kevin Naze FRONT COVER DESIGN by WAYNE DETJEN

Part I Legend of the Great Gray Wolf

The Potawatomie Indian legend of the great gray wolf was passed down by word of mouth through the generations and told by Chief Ke-toose to George W. Wing in 1869 when Wing was a young man. Later, Wing became lawyer, colonel and student of Indian lore; in 1873 he and Charles Borman started the Ahnapee Record, now The Algoma Record-Herald. Wing was its first editor. The following is the legend as written by Col. Wing and edited by Liz Howell. Settling more comfortably beside the fire, Chief K etoose began his story. It was long before the days of the white man. We are in the land of the Ah-Ne-Pe, the great gray wolf, and it was here that he lived and had his lair. Many wolves roamed the area but none was as dangerous as the great gray wolf that feasted on women and children and terrified the hunters so their arrows were as broken reeds and their axes refused to do their work. A great fear came over all the red people, surely this gray wolf was an evil spirit. The forests were deserted, the red deer ran swiftly away, and even the black bear left his haunts and no longer strayed here. The tribes paddled their canoes swiftly along the shores lest night should overtake them in the land of the Ah-Ne-Pe, the gray wolf. In all this land around us no hunter built his fire, no creeping thing was in the forests and there was only silence, broken by the cry of the seagull by day and by the howl of the big gray wolf at night. The Potawatomies lived in fear for their lives, all except the great hunter, Sha-hoka, at whom the Indian maidens threw love sticks but he made no sign he noticed. His heart was free and he traveled far to hunt. One day, north beyond the lakes in the land of the Chippewas, he met a maiden, daughter of Chief Os-a-ma-kee, and they fell in love . "Give me this maiden to wife," he told the chief, but Os-a-ma-kee laughed. "Does the wolfs daughter mate with the rabbit? Does the eaglet take to husband the catbird? Does a Chippewa maiden carry water for a dog of a Potawatomie?" Sha-hoka was furious. "I have killed more bear than there are Chippewas in all the land, and with my naked hands I have strangled more wolves than the Chippewas ever saw." "Then go and kill Ah-Ne-Pe," the chief sneered and left the young hunter standing alone. Sha-hoka had long waited to hunt the great gray wolf, but suddenly he was afraid and lay by his campfire sick at heart. 9

One evening the maiden stole to him and whispered, "Go and kill Ah-Ne-Pe, t he gray wolf," but before he could answer she was gone. Her words were like a fire in his blood. Sha-hoka jumped up and ran into the forest. He found him a strong bow of the ash tree that bended to the west when the wind blew strong from the north. From the hide of a red deer he had shot in the light of the full moon he made strings for his big ash bow. The Sha-bed, the medicine man, made him a big medicine to make his heart bold and his arm strong. Then Sha-hoka set out for the land of the Ah-NePe. On the way the anim als and birds taunted him to kill them but he paid no attention. When he finally came to the land of the Ah-Ne-Pe there was a great stillness; no squirrels chattered in the trees, no birds sang; only the pines whispered together and the waves of the lake lapped the white stones. Sha-hoka now stole through the forests of maple, beech and birch with great caution; he crept upon every fallen tree and with a hunter's instinct he knew the sound of every crackling twig. He came to the river, black and flowing silently into the big lake, a nd he made his campfire. The first night he heard no sound and t he mournful silence of the frozen night had something terrifying and strange about it. For many days and nights he camped here by the river, and he watched and listened and waited with the patience given only to great hunters. Little by little, a big fear possessed him, a strange fear of his surroundings and of the horrible prowler which had driven every living thing from this land. One evening when the sun set a fiery red and seagulls came closer to the white shore, Sha-hoka was sure the great gray wolf would do harm that night. H e wrapped himself in his blanket and lay at the foot of a fallen t ree, but he did not sleep. In t he black of the night, the long howl of a wolf, like the wail of a child crying for its mother or the voice of a demon seeking evil spirits, echoed from far up the river. It was like nothing Sha-hoka had ever heard in all his life in the woods, and he understood the wolf was afraid. For many nights after that Sha-hoka heard the great baying of the big wolf asking and begging him to go away and not to kill him. One day, while creeping near a dense thicket covered with dead leaves, a huge gray beast jumped up and raced away through the underbrush. With a mighty cry Sha-hoka chased after him. Through the forest they ran; branches tore Shahoka's hair and ripped his flesh; blood splattered from his torn hands and feet, but always he kept the leaping gray monster 10

with slavering mouth in sight. The gray wolf ran directly toward the little river where it joins the big river, and as they reached the water, Sha-hoka shouted, "Ho! Ah-Ne-Pe, you have not the mind of a man. You are a cowardly 'wolf with the spirit of a rabbit. " With a vicious snarl Ah-Ne-Pe whirled and sprang at the hunter. In the split second he had, Sha-hoka dropped his bow and raised his ax as the beast pounced. With a mighty blow Sha-hoka struck and felt the wolfs blood spurt over his face. Then he seized the wolfs neck in his bare hands and together t hey rolled over and over on the hard ground, biting and tearing at each other until they collapsed . Many hours later Sha-hoka awoke. The sun had set and he lay in the dim woods covered with dried blood, his head on a shaggy gray bulk. There was no beating of its heart and no breathing in its throat. Ah-Ne-Pe was dead . Somehow, Shahoka had survived. Sha-hoka returned to the land of t he Chippewas carrying the wolfs great gray head and when he reached Os-a-ma-kee he threw it at the chiefs feet. "Chippewa, here is the head of Ah-Ne-Pe . Sha-hoka, t he Potawatomie hunter, gives it to you!" Then Sha-hoka took the chiefs daughter by the hand and led her back through the woods to the land of the Ah-Ne-Pe, and when they had found the den of the great gray beast, there they built their lodge and there they lived. And now that Ah-Ne-Pe was dead, the red deer returned to the woods, the bear found their old lairs, the squirrels again chattered their quarrels and the birds once more sang in the trees. This is the story of Ah-Ne-Pe, the great gray wolf, told me, the old Ke-toose, by my grandfather, the old Ne-Po-Nek. Soon after telling the tale for the last time, Chief Ketoose died in his hundredth year becoming, like the legend, part of Potawatomie folklore.

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PART II Pearl Foshion, pioneer in the twentieth century

AUTHOR'S NOTE Pearl Fashion, pioneer in the twentieth century, could not have been written without the help of her family and friends, especially of her sister, Belle Van Beek, and her daughter and son-in-law, Jean and Jim Lindeke, her cousin, Lillian Lidral, and nurses Marie Detjen and Laura Knospe who answered innumerable questions and rounded out the Pearl I had only known the last eight years of her life. Quotes of Pearl's were taken from articles I wrote about her a few years before her death in 1987. I thank, too, Ann Schmitz, Marge Curtin, M ary Bohman and Rita Schiesser at the Algoma Public Library for their patience in going through old files and microfilm for information I needed. And sincere thanks go to Patricia Baierl, Gayle Barrett, Marge Curtin, Robin Garber and Ann Schmitz for editing my copy. Pearl's short biography has been a labor of love about a lady who was special, a liberated woman before her time.

LH

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The Arrival The communi ty Pearl Foshion and her doctor husband, Herbert, moved to in 1925 had seen many changes since Chief Ke-toose told the legend of t he great wolf to George Wing. Few people remembered the tale or knew anything about the origina l Wolf River Trading Post, later named Ah-Ne-P e after the great gray wolf, then changed to Ahnapee, and in 1897 renam ed Algoma, Indian for H ill or Park of Flowers. When the Foshions arrived in t heir old, black, heaterless Model A Ford they were cold in spite of the January thaw. They had driven straight through from Milwaukee except for one restroom stop for five-year old Dulcine and had eaten a picnic lunch in the car. Lake Michigan was a welcome companion on their right, its blue-green water belying its freezing temperature. When they saw the Algoma light at the end of the pier they knew they were almost home. As the car slowed down on Fourth Street baby .Jean stirred on her mother's lap. Pearl was glad t hey had arrived; she was exhausted after days of packing and getting ready to move, but Herbert was too excited to be tired. H e unwound his thin body and climbed out of the car, a grin spreading across his face and his blue eyes lighting in anticipation as he viewed the large two-family house with its wide open porch . Half of it was rented to another fam ily; half would be t heir first real home and his office. Algoma had attained city status with a census of 1,910 res idents and had a thriving commercial fishing industry, but to P earl and Herbert after their years in Madison, Minneapolis and Milwaukee while Herbert went to Medical School and interned, it seemed smaller than they remembered it when they were young. They knew t he limitations a country doctor faced but couldn't help a twinge of concern because t he small town was ill -equipped to care for its sick wit h the nearest hospital in Sturgeon Bay 18 miles away. No matter, they were excited to be settling and Herbert would, at last, have his own practice which he was buying from retiring Dr. Toothacher.

The Early Years Pearl Dewarzeger and Herbert Foshion grew up in the Belgian farm community of Little Sturgeon -Gardner 27 miles northwest of Algoma. He was one of John and Jenna Foshion's six children who helped their parents on the farm, but Herbert did not intend to be a farmer like his father. He wanted to become a teacher. Pearl adm ired the thin, blue-eyed boy four years her senior and treasured his shy smile when they met at school or church 17

and during t he Belgian kermis days in fa ll. She was born to Rosalie and Alex Dewarzeger on May 19, 1899, the eldest of t hree children who learned at an early age t.o do t heir share of t he work, milking and feeding cows and laking care of the pigs and chickens. They went to Little Sturgeon one-room school which was heated by a long, narrow, flat-topped iron stove that hissed and spi t when t hey tried to dry t heir mittens after t he freezing walk fro m home on a cold winter morning. Pearl's legs were encased in wool stockings pulled over her long winter underwear and her feet in clumsy black galoshes buckled with metal clas ps over her laced high shoes (button shoes were for Sunday). Under a knitted cap pulled down over her ears hung two brown braids li ke muddy icicles and a warm muffler covered most of her face except for her blue-gray eyes. Even so, her cheeks were cold and rosy when she unwound t he protecting scarf to hang beside her heavy coat on her allotted peg on t he back wall. " I remem ber the two rows of logs beside the stove and the big wood pile stacked in the yard," Pearl's sister Belle said. She was a younger copy of Pearl. "Both thin as rails," she described t hem. We used to pick field corn back of t he school and pop it on the stove, " she remembered - in t he fall when the first chill was in t he air. " But we had to wait for the teacher to go home across the road for her lunch." On nice days the children sat under the trees and ate from t heir lunch buckets and on cold days stayed at t heir double desks in t he warmth of the schoolhouse. "We had homemade jelly on homemade bread; peanut butter was a treat and wieners were a special treat," Belle said. When Pearl had started school Herbert was in fifth grade and beca me someone she looked up to because he was studious. She loved school and was determined to go beyond eighth grade which was considered enough education for a girl at that t im e in rural communit ies. In 1910/11 t he one-room school was replaced by Stevenson Consolidated Grade School in Gardner, too far for Pearl, Belle and t heir brother, Victor, to walk. " We went in a covered wagon school bus drawn by two horses," Belle said. It was convertible, using wheels in fall and spring and was put on sleigh runners during t he snowy months. "Sometimes the bus driver drove and sometimes his wife drove. I would've rather walked, but I guess it was too far, a good three miles. We sat on long benches on each side of t he covered wagon and it got so cold we used to jump off and run behind it to keep warm." She laughed. It had been a long time 18

ago, over 75 years. At. home, too, the cold was penetrating so their mother heated bricks in the oven and wrapped them in woolen shawls to warm the children's beds. During the winter their father set his car up on wooden blocks in the barn and hitched up his team to drive to church or the village. " My father's first car was a Stutz, but he used to trade cars so often l don 't remember the others," Belle said. She and Pearl were good friends in spite of the four and a half year difference in age and got along with Victor who was 20 months younger than Pearl. Sunday was a special day when they a ccompanied their parents to White Star Spiritualist Church in Gardner and stayed for t he fellowship dinner afterward. Alex Dewarzeger stood out in any group, tall, dignified with the presence of a man used to authority. He could subdue any childish shenanigans with a look. Rosalie, too, in her quiet way, would brook no nonsense from the children during service and saw that they behaved at the social. It was through her and Alex's efforts that the first Spiritualist minister had been brought to t he area and that White Star Church was built in 1884. . "They don't believe in the Bible and believe in the return of spirits," Belle explained. " My mother got a Bible anyway and made us sit on the floor and she read it to us." Spiritualists do not agree with her childhood memory. "We believe in Jesus' words, ' He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also, (John 14: 12) as the basis for our psychic religion which includes clairvoyance, astroprojection, healing and telepathy," said Randy La Violette, a member of White Star Spiritualist Church.* So, too, must t he Dewarzegers have believed in spite of Belle's recollections, for her father practiced spiritual healing and was sure of his ability to heal with the medications he mixed. Some people called him "a kind of doctor," and smiled knowingly; others called him doctor sincerely and went to him for their ills although he had no formal medical training. He had an office and a nurse and handed out soothing salves and ointments he concocted and packed in small jars for his patients. They swore by his cold remedies and linaments for the aches and pains of winter and his tonic for the lassitude of sprmg. Even after her marriage to Herbert, Pearl relied on her

*Footnote: White Star Spiritualist church was built in 1884 and is a m ember of The Associated Psychic Science Churches. 19

father's spring tonic which her mother continued to make after Alex died in 1937. "Grandma Dewarzeger's fig tonic cleared out our blood, " Pearl's daughter, J ean, said and grimaced at the memory of the vile tasting liquid she and her sister were made to take. "It cleaned out more than our bood. We got diarrhea after her dosing us ." Although Rosalie appeared strict in church, she was soft spoken and kind with a sense of humor that drew people to her. When the children were young the Dewarzegers' house was the place that cousins and friends stopped at after ice skating for hot cocoa and to pop corn. Sometimes they had a taffy pull. " My mother boiled the mixture in a big vat and folded it over and over all the way around so it would cool quicker and we could handle it," Belle said. The children shrieked with laughter as they worked the sticky candy and tried to see who could stretch it in the longest piece without pulling it apart. Sum mers were different and at the first sign of spring the children could hardly wait to run barefoot, digging their feet in the brown earth and exulting in the feel of it squishing t hrough their toes. Going to the outhouse was no longer a torture that froze their backsides and made them run shivering back to the house. Summer was a time of whistling and swinging a supple switch bursting with new green leaves when they brought in the cows over the little trail worn into the pasture. It meant that the pit-pat-pit-pat of milk did not turn cold the minute it hit the pail. It meant hay growing lush in the fields and the arduous task, after it had been cut and dried, of piling it on t he hay wagon pulled by the sturdy work team covered with flynets to ward off vicious black flies. Pearl was too slight to use the long-handled pitch fork to load hay, but she loved to climb up on one of the horses. She was always careful to t uck in her long skirt as she sat with both legs dangling on one side, sidesaddle fashion. Once the hay was in it was time to milk and feed the cows, tend the pigs and chickens and gather the eggs, always the last chores of any day winter or summer. Then they were free to swim in Little Sturgeon Bay. Pearl would dash to the house to change into her shortsleeved bathing dress that came to her knees, then she would run down to t he water. It felt good after the day's work in the sun. Pearl went about her daily routine with good humor but tried to beg off cooking when it was her turn to help her 20

mot her in t he kitchen. S he liked school a nd absorbed knowledge. always ready to learn something new. When she had t im e she would go into the livi ng room and practice the little organ which s he played by ear. Hut bes t of a ll, s he li ked to read, ofte n reli ghting the kerosene lamp by her bed to fini s h a book long a fter everyone else was a sleep. In 1914 s he graduated from eighth grade and was ready for t he nex t step, a year at East High School in Green Bay. Heca use the 80-mi le round-t rip from Little S turgeon was too far to trave l s he stayed with fa mily cousins, the Arthur Libert s. on East Walnut Street during the wee k and wen t home on wee kends. Pearl had grown from a scrawny little girl into a thi n teenager who showed signs of a blossoming figure. H er brown ha ir fe ll to her s houlders in becoming ringlets, the result of roll in g it on rags every night. S he d id well in high school a nd, after her freshman year, transferred to Door-Kewaunee Normal School in Algoma and gradua ted the following s pring. Her dream had come t rue. She had an education and was ready to teach. In the mea ntim e, Herbert F'oshion had gone straight to Normal School from eight h gra de, but after grad uation del' ided he would rather be a doctor t ha n a teac her. In order to qua lif"y for pre-med he ha d to have a high school degree. By the t im e he was ready for t he University of WisconsinMadison, t he little gi rl he had known a ll his life had grown up and they fel l in love. He was not more t han five-feet-eight-or-nine-inches tall a nd a lmost as th in as Pearl with blue eyes t hat usua lly twinkled at some private joke and s hon e wi t h love when he looked at her, hut he was quiet and said little . .. He was Pearl's first and onl y love," Bel le said. The summer after Pea rl 's graduation they spent as much t ime toget her as possible after finis hi ng chores on t heir parents· fa rm s. It was a summer of walki ng t hrough the woods a nd s topp ing for a n occasional kiss. swim ming in Little Sturgeon Hay, v isiting with fri ends a nd goi ng to country fa irs. Al l loo soon, H erbert had to return to the university a nd Pearl ha d to report to her first teaching job at Sugar Creek one-room sc hool in Ga rdn er. S he boarded with her Aunt Liza a nd llncle August Herlac he because t he Dewarzegers had sold t heir far m to the Fas hions at t he end of the s ummer and moved to Green Bay. She was exc ited about her career, but as she faced h er class or firs t t hrough eighth graders t he first morn ing her innate shyne8s overwhelmed her a nd she wondered if s he really was qualified to teach. Some of the seventh and eighth graders 21

loomed above her; their height intimidated the little teacher who had turned 16 only four months before. With a determinat ion she did not feel, Pearl greeted her students with a friendly smile. After seeing Herbert almost every day during the summer she missed him, but did not have time to dwell on it because of her busy schedule at school and helping her aunt with housework. In the evening she was almost too tired to write to him. News of the war in Europe, that had started when Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was murdered in Serajevo on June 28, 1914, was no more than a distant rumble which concerned few people, least of all Pearl. Even when the United States declared war on Germany on Good Friday, April 6, 1917, she was not worried. Then suddenly, Herbert was home telling her he had been drafted. Pearl's world shattered. She couldn't think; she couldn't sleep and she knew she couldn't go on teaching. "She had a nervous breakdown and had to go home to our parents in Green Bay to recuperate," Belle said. "I wasn 't very sympathetic and told her she just didn' t want to work." The months d·ragged on for Pearl in unrelieved worry, wondering where H erbert was and if he would come back. She cried until she had no more tears. In her despair she lay outside on a wicker settee and let the sun caress her. Gradually, a faith she did not know she had brought peace and she began to think of her career again. As if in answer to a prayer, t he Consolidated School in Gardner found itself without a teacher and offered the position to Pearl. She accepted gratefully, glad to feel alive again. When Armistice was announced on November 11, 1918, she could hardly believe it. Herbert would be home. The terror that had claimed her dissipated and she went about her tasks with renewed enthusiasm. Suddenly he was there, a little taller, a little thinner, and his arms were around her. When she looked into his blue eyes she saw he was also a little older. Now they could make plans for the future. Before H erbert returned to the university for the spring term they set their wedding date for June 3, 1919. The sun was shining and the birds sang to match the joy in Pearl's heart. When t he awaited day arrived Pearl stood before the mirror to make sure her white skirt under the calf-length chiffon tunic hung evenly to the ·top of her white high shoes. After a final reclasping of the barrette in her short brown hair she t urned to Belle and took the bouquet of white carnations from her. Belle had pinned a corsage of pink carnations on her brown dress. When Pearl was ready they walked down the stairs 22

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together. " I was Pearl's maid of honor," she said. P al mer Herlache was her bridesmaid. Victor, who was a lso in the wedding party, waited in the car to drive them to White Star Spiritualist Church where Alex Dewarzeger would give Pearl and Herbert a bless ing in front of a family gather ing. Wait ing inside t he little church, Herbert stood wi th his brother, Victor, at t he bott om of the chancel step . Both wore dark s uits, their trousers fashionably just above the ankles, their ha ir cut short, Herbert's showing a trace of premat ure gray at t he sides. As Pearl and Belle entered the church, soft stra ins of organ music greeted th em. " Afterwards, the six of us piled in one car and drove to S t urgeon Bay," Belle said. T here the newlyweds were married by a Justice of t he Peace in a civil ceremony because Alex Dewarzeger was not orda ined to perform marriages. "Then we drove to see the cherry blossoms because Pearl insisted on seeing them ," Belle said. When they ret urned t o the Dewarzegers, t he house was filled with wai t ing rela tives and tables were piled with the wedding feast: bowls of mashed potatoes and platters of stewed beef in gravy, tiny meatballs browned and baked in their natural juices (the Belgian boulette), and mounds of chopped cabbage cooked with onions and nutmeg (jutte). At one end of t he table a ll kinds of Belgian pies topped wit h cottage cheese surrounded the t hree-tiered wedding cake Rosalie had baked. When it was finally time to leave, Pearl went upsta irs t o change into a sensible brown travelling suit. They wou ld be going to Madison by trai n in ti me for Herbert to attend summer school so he could start his sophomore year of premed in the fa ll. Starry-eyed with happiness, P earl waved to her relatives and gave her mother and father extra hugs and kisses before she hooked her arm over Herbert's and walked wit h him to the car where J ules and Victor Foshion, Belle and Victor waited to drive t hem to t he Green Bay station. The new Mrs. Foshion was on her way to becoming a doctor's wife. Poor but Happy T he thought of Herbert becoming a doctor kept Pearl going for the first weeks of their marriage as she tried to figure out how t hey could survive t he years of poverty ahead . H erbert cleaned apartments and furnaces and found some cleani ng jobs for her, but their combined in com es did not cover expenses. With an eye towa rd improving their financial sit ua-

23

t ion , Pearl convinced Herbert to rent a four-bedroom flat so they could rent rooms to students. " We took in four t o five students at a time," she said. The re ntal income was not large, but with careful budgeting it closed the gap between income and outgo and they settled into a blissful honeymoon period. When the first telltale signs of pregnancy gripped Pearl's slight body, waves of nausea made it almost impossible for her to get out of bed in the morning. Herbert brought her hot tea and stood over her to see she drank it while she sucked on a hard candy. Gradually, her stomach settled and she was able to get out of bed carefully and stand for a moment before she walked shakily across t he room. Somehow, she managed to keep the flat tidy and clean the other apartments for which she was responsible. As the weeks passed, so did her morning sickness and she went about her tasks with happy anticipation. When her time was almost upon her Herbert took her to her parents' to have their baby in the Dewarzegers' new home in Gardner. On April 9, 1920, Dulcine was born, a wee bit of a thing for all the trouble her delivery caused Pearl. The new mother did not regain her strength but insisted on returning to Madison to be with her husband . "But after a week Herbert called and asked me to come," Belle said. " Pearl wasn't well and he was taking care of her and t he baby and cleaning his apartments and hers, but he didn't have time to study. " Belle left for Madison immediately and found her sister lying in bed, pale and worn, too weary to get up to greet her. After the airy new farm house, the four-bedroom apartment on t he t hird floor under the eaves seemed cramped in com parison, especia lly with its added complement of four student roomers, but Belle soon adjusted. She cooked tempt ing meals a nd made booyah, t hat nourishing Belgian chicken vegetable soup, and took care of t he baby. When she felt she could leave Pearl for a few hours, she took on P earl 's cleaning jobs. Under Belle's loving care the color returned to Pearl's cheeks and she began to tend to Dulcine herself. In a fe~ weeks the emergency was over; t he girls faced saying good-bye. Instead, Pearl asked Belle to stay and Belle decided to go to business school in Madison. "I didn 't want to go to high school," she said. After classes she cleaned the apartment building they lived m.

"The halls and stairs, everything had to be kept up every night. All we did was work. There wasn't any time to play, and there wasn't any money. We never went to dances or shows or even to church in those days. We did take Dulcine to 24

the park and sometimes I'd go to the amusement park on a S unday afternoon. We lived a quiet life because that was what was expected of us." Instead of t he pa rtying many students did , the roomers at Fosh ion 's were as quiet and studious as t hey. " We never bulted in with each other. We sa id 'hello' and t hat was a ll ," Belle said. " The fami ly ate together, but t he roomers ate out. f don't know where. We were all so busy." That sum mer t he t hird floor was an inferno t he fan could not cool. Their clot hes stuck a nd Du lcine lay in a pool of perspiration, her face red from the oppressive heat and her tin y body covered with itchy prickly heat. Pearl sprinkled her with baby powder, then with corn starch, but neit her did any good. In desperation, she soaked a turkish towel in cold water and held it d ripping in front of the fan to send a cool breeze over the baby. Time and time again she sloshed the towel in the kitchen s ink and carried it to t he fan until Dulcine fell asleep. Somehow, t hey survived the summ er. Fall brought Victor to the universi ty for his pre-med courses and it was only natural for him to stay with his family. " Our father paid for Victor's and my room and board because Pearl a nd Herbert couldn 't afford to keep us," Belle said. When Herbert finish ed h is pre-med courses and it was time for hi m to t ransfer to t he University of Minnesota Medical School Belle decided to go with h im and Pearl. They weren't sorry to leave the stifling third floor apartment, but would miss Victor. Pearl and Belle packed their belongings, ki ssed Victor and said good-bye with a cheery, "See you soon," and accompanied Herbert to Minneapolis . As he had in Madison, Herbert rented a large apartment and they were ready fo r n ew student roomers. M oney was still tight and every penny t hey could make counted. Any extra was hoarded for a n emergency. " They were hard years. We were poor, but we were h appy," Pearl sa id. She and H erbert con tinued cleaning apartments, b ut t his time he did not clean furnaces . Belle found a job as waitress in a small restaurant. She liked being with people and havi ng regular hours wit h S undays off. On one of her S unday walks with Pearl an d D ulcin e, the girls made friends with a neighbor whose father was a country minister. On a Sunday when Herbert was at t he hospital, Pearl and Belle with Dulcine boarded the little steam train for the short t ri p north of Minn eapolis to have d inner with t heir new friend and her parents. 25

Dulcine, little lady that she was, looked around the table and entered the conversation politely. "A bird made a bowel on Mam a's shoulder. " Silence greeted her announcement and a slow flush suffused Pearl's face. Then everyone began to ta lk at once. Helle laughed when she repeated the story. She remembered, too, the first time she saw Olonzo Arthur. He had come into the restaurant and sat at Belle's table, his blond hair clipped short, his deep dark eyes looking into hers as he gave his order. She was int rigued by his slight English accent and wondered about him as she walked back to the kitchen. He returned the next few evenings and by the end of the week they were talking like old friends and she learned his parents were English and he worked repairing railroad cars for Si ms and Stimble Company. When he asked her to go to a movie with him she was sorry she had promised Pearl she would babysit. Aller she returned to the apartment that evening and had said good-bye to Pearl and Herbert the doorbell rang. There stood Olonzo; he had followed her home without her knowing it. " I asked him in and we had a lovely evening talking," Belle said. The chance acquaintance developed into love over the next six months. On November 8, 1922, without saying anything to Pearl, Belle and Olonzo met two friends at the Justice of the Peace office and were married. "And then the four of us went back to the apartment to tell Pearl and Herbert." Pearl covered her surprise an d hurt by wishing them happiness and inviting t hem a ll to a dinner of sorts she made from what she had in the house. Two days later the newlyweds stopped to say good-bye before they drove to Gardner to see the Dewarzegers and then left for Olonzo's next job for Sims and Stimble in Hammond, Indiana. The sisters held each other in a loving embrace, then with tears in her eyes at the bitter-sweet parting, Belle got into the car beside her husband. Her life with Pearl was over. Pearl stood at the curb waving until she could no longer see the car.

The Last Lap At last, Herbert graduated from Minnesota Medical School and was ready for his internship. It had been a hard struggle and he knew interning would be as hard with many long days, and nights without sleep. 26

Again they packed and traveled to Milwaukee where he would intern at Columbia H ospital. There on September 5, 1924, Jean was born. But now, without the pressure of having to clean apartments and take in roomers Pearl was able to care for Dulcine and the baby with what little help H erbert could give her t he few hours he was free . She spent most of her time with the children, never sure when or if he would be home. When they slept she read everything and anything she could lay her hands on. Her tastes were eclectic. When she could find someone to watch the children she rolled bandages or did other volunteer jobs at t he hospital. Pearl's days were full and she was happy. The weeks passed into months and she and Herbert could, at last, talk seriously about his going into practice, but wondered where and how. When he learned that one of Algoma's two doctors, a Dr. Toothacher, was retiring and selling his practice Herbert made inquiries and contracted to buy it over the next few years. It seemed almost too good to be true. They would be near their families in an area they knew and loved. The years had come full circle, and in retrospect did not seem long; all the scrimping, saving and deprivations had been worthwhile. Herbert was a doctor with his own practice. Pearl packed frantically, stuffing clothes around dishes and glasses in big cartons, and packing the assortment of clippings and odds and ends she had collected into smaller containers. "She was a packrat," daughter Jean said, recalling her mother's collections that became valuable over the years. Herbert put what he could in their old, black Model A Ford. His brother, Victor, arrived in the farm truck to take the rest. Pearl and Herbert surveyed the apartment that had been t heir home to see if they had left anything, then closed the door behind them. Pearl took Dulcine's hand and Herbert carried Jean to the car. The January sunshine bathed them like a good omen for the drive to Algoma . P earl leaned against the back of the front seat, exhausted from her days of packing and t he last minute cleaning of the apartment, but Herbert was keyed with excitement. When they drove up to the large two-family house on Fourth Street he could visualize his plaque beside the front door, Herbert Fashion, M.D. A smile spread across his face and his blue eyes lighted as he unwound his thin body and climbed out of the car. Dr. Fashion had arrived. Wife of a Country Doctor Herbert did not have time to daydream. Jean began to cry and Dulcine called she had to go to the bathroom . He had no sooner helped her out of t he car and into t he house when Victor drove up in the truck. The brief moment was over and 27

they were in t he midd le of unloading the little furniture Pearl and Herbert had and making some semblance of order out of the house before it was time to get supper and put the children to bed. After Victor left, Pearl and Herbert sat together on the couch and looked around the living room , their living room, their first real home. " Doctor. " s he said with love and pride, and thereafter never referred t.o him as anyt hing else. They walked upstairs arm in arm, but before Herbert followed her into thei r bedroom he walked across the hall to the t hi rd bedroom that. had been converted into an office. It was sparsely furnished with a plain knee-hole desk in the middle of t he room. A glass ca binet for instruments and anot her for medications stood against t he back wall; a table wi th vials and equipment to do urinalysis and hemoglobin tests was in t he corner. He rearranged the notepads with Dr. Toothacher's name printed on them, crossing out the name and substituting his own on the first few pages. Tomorrow he would ask Pearl to go to Algoma Printing Company and have some new ones printed. a nd tomorrow he would open his practice. It was a good time to start any venture, the economy was up and the future of the country looked good. As he closed the door he humm ed a little tune and joined Pearl. Offi ce hours started at 8 a .m. and continued except for an hour's break fo r noon dinner until 5 p.m . and for two evenings a week. Counting the t imes he would be making house calls and the nights he would be out delivering babies, his schedule, he knew, would be full. He hoped Dr. Toothacher's patients liked him and didn 't think he was too young. Perhaps the premature white in his hair was an asset after all. Pearl soon learned she couldn 't take care of t he children and office too and have dinner ready in the short time between office hours. Using t he living room as a waiting room kept patients underfoot and she had to keep the children in the ki tchen or t heir bedroom. It wasn't long before doctor hired a capable and pleasant practical nurse, Marie Cmeyla (later Detjen ) to help with the patients and run his office. " I worked for $4 a week," Marie said. " I was supposed to have Sunday off but if they wanted to go out I'd stay with the children and someone had to be there to answer the telephone. It was a seven-day week." When Herbert knew he had a difficult delivery ahead, he alerted Marie and she would go to stay with t he patient until it was time for doctor to come. "Sometimes I was there 24 to 36 hours," she said. Handicapped without x-ray equipment closer than Sturgeon 28

Bay, doctor bought a secondhand x-ray machine for his office. "The first person he tried it on was our brother Victor," Belle said. "It showed up the old shoulder scar from the time Victor was going duck hunting and put down his gun when he untied the boat and the gun went off and shot him. We all laughed about it." Belle was in Green Bay by that time helping Olonzo run t he bakery he had started the same year Pearl and Herbert moved to Algoma. With a business and three children to care for she did not see Pearl often but they kept in touch and remained good friends. Pearl wondered at the change in her vivacious sister, but did not want to ask if something were wrong. When Belle divorced Olonzo sometime later Pearl wasn't surprised, but was sorry the romance with the handsome stranger had not lasted . Belle went home to her parents with the three children. In 1933 she met and married Martin Van Beek. He was a carpenter-contractor who provided well for the combined families of six children. " We went to shows and I learned to dance," Belle said of her new life with Martin. She could laugh again and put whatever was in the past behind her. Pearl's life was very different from Belle's. With Marie in the office she had time to dawdle over marketing, talking to other shoppers and making new friends. In her quiet way, "doc's wife" was one of his best advertisements, drawing people to her with her warm smile and twinkling blue-gray eyes. With the stores on Fourth and Steele streets within walking distance, Pearl would take the children with her, Jean in her carriage and Dulcine walking sedately beside her. Once she had finished shopping, Pearl piled the groceries in the carriage with Jean and walked back to the library which was a half block beyond the house. There she thumbed through books carefully before choosing two or three to take home to read in t he hours she was alone after t he children went to bed. She read novels, biographies, light romance, philosophy as well as mysteries and poetry, anything that struck her fancy. Doctor used to tease her about the books piled next to her chair, but she would only smile quietly in answer. Theirs was a good relationship based on love and understanding. She needed to fulfill her craving to learn, he to give himself to his profession . What little time they had together was special as t hey followed their own interests within the framework of their marriage. The Dewarzeger and Fashion families, which included Corbisiers and other branches, drove over from the Gardner area and soon became part of doctor's growing practice. Instead of waiting in the living room with other patients, they would visit 29

with Pearl over a cup of tea and cinnamon toast in the ki tchen. She still had not learned to enjoy cooking or baking and did as little as necessary. Alt hough Pearl had not gone to church in Madison and only occasionally to a Baptist church with her friend in Minneapolis, s he felt church association shou ld be part of a growing family"s life now that they were settled, and they began to at.tend t he Methodist-Episcopal Church diagonally across t he streel on the corner of Fourth and Fremont. She liked the service a nd especially enjoyed the warmth of new friendships. Soon , s he was a member of t he Women's Circle, helping to organ ize suppers and the bazaar. It was the first step in becoming someone in her own right, not just "doctor's wife." It felt good. Un li ke many women whose social status had changed because of their husbands' positions in the community, Pearl was not interested in fl aunting her new position, especially not with the clothes of the 1920s. Neil her Herbert nor Pearl had time for the fl ippancy of the fl apper era wit h its vigorous Charleston dance, and P earl wouldn't have been caught at a masquerade in the above-theknees fringed ski rts that were in style. Near beer and bathtub gin were the drinks of t he prohibit ion yea rs but were no part of the Foshions' lives. They lived as they had, working hard toward a goal with frivolities foreign to their natures. Doctor joi ned t he Masons and P earl was initiated into its women 's division, t he Eastern Star, in 1927. She used to tell of the time she and other women made sandwiches a ll one day for an evening function and nobody came. T hey hadn't noticed the big snow storm brewing. " We always knew when we saw mother's long whi te dress hanging in the bathroom, there was a Star function," J ean said. That same yea r, Rosalie Dewarzeger became a Spiritualist minister and held services at the White Star Church in Gardner. "Aunt Rose was like Pearl, always quiet and soft spoken and people loved her," Lillian Corbisier Lidral said. "Later she was minister of the Green Bay church and wrote a column for The Nationalist Spiritualist paper. " Pearl found keeping the children quiet during office hours more and more difficult as Jean developed into a noisy tomboy, running around t he house, climbing on furniture and shrieking at the top of her lungs in the childish games of make-believe that delighted her, unlike the more serious Dulcine who played quietly with her dolls. As often as she could Pearl took them outside to play. 30

lt soon became apparent that half the duplex was too small to accommodate family and office. 1\vo years after t hey had moved in doctor bought a comfortable, t hree-story Victorian house on the corner of Fremont and Fifth Streets, Pearl was delighted with its long, sunny living room-dining room across the whole west side of the house, the roomy kitchen and extra back room and half bath downstairs, the five bedrooms and bathroom on the second floor and t he full attic on the third. She had collected a few antiques, t he first of many, which would s how to advantage in their new surroundings. Doctor gave up his lease on the duplex and transferred his office to rooms on the second floor of the Schumacher Building on Steele Street near t he corner of Fourth for which he paid less than $100 a month rent that included heat, water and electricity. "Nothing fancy, bare floors and not much furniture," Arlene Sticka Thomas said. " I used to work part-time in the office afte r school answering t he telephone, making appointments, writing out statements - a little book work, and I mopped the floor after office hours. I got 25' an hour and that was pretty good t hen ." Marie's salary was ra ised, from the $4.50 a week she had been getting when t hey left the duplex, to $7.50 a week. "Then we had the office open three nights a week," Marie said. Shortly after t hey had moved, Marie recalled, "a boy from Casco had an accident and was hauled up to the office after hours. Doctor called me . I gave the anaesthetic - we used chloroform and ether in those days - and Dr. Fashion set the bone. I stayed all night. He never asked; he expected it. He was a dedicated man. The next day doctor took him to his house for Pearl to take care of until the boy could go to his grandmother's in Casco. " The boy was one of many whom Pearl nursed at the house over the next two years. She had become an integral part of doctor's practice. In order to have immediate results of pregnancy tests, he installed cages of rabbits in the basement. Pearl wasn't sure she liked that part of it because the rabbit died when a patient tested pregnant . Nevertheless, she fed and watered her furry charges, being careful to keep the cages as clean as possible so the odor wouldn 't seep upstairs into the house . When her cousin , Lillian Corbisier, arrived to live with them while she attended Algoma High School, Pearl had someone to help her after school, but that also meant Pearl became a member of doctor's delivery team too. His patients were scattered for miles around the countryside and Pearl soon learned to get what sleep she could and wake 31

at the first ring of the telephone. When she heard doctor say they'd be right there she knew she was needed and would scramble out of bed and into her clothes. " ) went mostly in snow or storm . In case he got stuck it was beLler to have two of us," she said. Her eyes sparkled as she told about the babies he delivered in farmhouses way out in the country, her own part to wipe the new baby with a cotton ball saturated in olive oil. "It gives you a thrill , a sense of elation to hold a new life," she said. "Then afterward, I washed the baby with Ivory soap and warm water while doctor was taking care of the afterbirth. I made out t he birth certificate and took care of the siblings. Doctor a lways stayed a while to be sure everything was all right." Often it was one or two o'clock in the morning before they left an isolated farm for the long drive over country roads to Algoma. "We were so sleepy we sang to keep awake, songs like 'Moonlight Bay' and 'A Long Long Trail Awinding,' "she said. Not. having a hospital close by worried Herbert so much he began t.hinking about buying a house and converting it. In 1914 Dr. Egeland had done just that in Sturgeon Bay, and only the year before, in 1928, Dr. Leasum had opened a private hospital in a former business building, making three in Sturgeon Bay wit.h the Bay Shore Hospital and Sanitarium built in 1901/1902. But they were 18 miles away, too far to serve the Algoma area conveniently, or quickly in emergencies. Ir ot.her doctors could do it, he could too, Herbert thought, and discussed the idea with Pearl. She agreed with him . After searching for just t he right place, he bought an old, square house with a cupola at 237 Mill Street near the U.S. Plywood factory in 1928 ..The house had been built by Simon Hall, great uncle of Jim Lindeke who became Jean's husband years later. Herbert renovated the wooden house into a small twelve-bed private hospital with four cribs. He bought equipment from the Beloit Hospital which was being rebuilt and expanded. In January, 1929, a formal organization of the hospital took place when subscribers for memberships met in doctor's office. It was decided the new institution would be operated by a legal non-profit corporation as an independent institution with services available to all patients, physicians and surgeons. At t he end of a few months, the organization was incorporated with 107 firms and individuals subscribing over $5,000. Herbert was president of the board of directors; Dr. Witcpa lek was vice-president. 32

Pearl and Herbert Fashion on their wedding day June 3, 1919 33

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J ean and Jim Lindeke on their wedding day June 3, 1946 34

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Victor, Belle and Pearl Dewarzeger

L to R : A teenage P earl and unidentified friend

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Pearl Fashion at 84 with doll from her collection

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The hospital was a big responsibility and, instead of reducing doctor's al ready too-crowded schedule, it added to it because women who were used to having babies at home at first shied away from the hospital. Gradually, home deliveries and house calls became a rarity instead of the norm. "Often there were so many patients there were beds in the hall," Pearl said, and with a twinkle in her eyes added, "Doctor's charge for a delivery was $10." He was fortunate in hiring registered nurse Laura Halloin (later Knospe), daughter of Dr. Halloin. Her salary was $65 a month plus room and board at the hospital. She soon became manager, relieving him of some of the pressure, but he was still too busy. When the city of Algoma offered to buy the small hospital two and a half years later, the board of directors voted to sell it. Although he remained as superintendent, doctor found his responsibilities somewhat lessened and could rely on the good staff he had hired. " I always liked Dr. Foshion and he liked me," Laura said. "And he was well liked by everyone, quiet, bu.t he always said what he really believed and spoke his mind. " During Laura's term at the hospital, Pearl's mother became a patient. "Mrs. Dewarzeger was such a pleasant woman. They were Belgian people and so easy to please. Everyt hing was all right with them," Laura said . After three years, Laura left to do private duty in Green Bay but she and the Foshions never lost touch and remained friends over the years. By 1933, Pearl's brother Victor had finished medical school and his internship. He had married Ciel Garrot of Green Bay and was practicing medicin e in Colorado. He was an enthusiastic flyer, owning a Piper Cub plane and was known as "the flying doctor. " Pearl was never surprised to hear that he and Ciel would arrive for the weekend and she was to meet them at the Green Bay airport. When her mother phoned to tell her Victor and Ciel had been killed in a plane crash Pearl couldn't believe it. Victor dead - and Ciel too. They had been so young and so happy. Victor was only 32. Days later, after the bodies had been found in the moutains, Rosalie Dewarzeger received the full report of the accident. Victor and Ciel, accompanied by another couple, had been on a routine errand to get a license when something had gone wrong. The little plane had crashed outside Grand Junction, Colorado, and all four had been killed. Years later, in a 1945 issue of The Nationalist Spiritualist, Rosalie wrote, "A messenger came and handed me this mes41

sage. 'Your son has been killed. ' Hard words for a mother to hear. " My daughter (Belle), who was with me at the ti me, began t o cry and lament about her brot her. " Although I knew he wou ld come back to me, still I thought l could no longer put my arms around him and kiss and love him as I used to do, he was gone." The Growing Years The girls were growing up fast, Dulcine was a proper young lady of t hirteen, quiet and thin like her father; Jean was a noisy tomboy, leaning toward heaviness. She went wherever she could with her father, tagging along with him to Boy Scout meetings and cons idered herself one of the boys . Herbert loved children, spending as much tim e as he could with his daughters and his Boy Scout Troop. Pearl had her own troop of Girl Scouts, going to camp with them and becoming involved in the national organization. Altogether, she was a Scout leader for 33 years. She was an addicted doll collector, picking up treasures at rummage sales for as little as 25< to 50' or scavenging in the Algoma dump where she found dolls that, after careful cleaning and new clothes, became respectable and valuable additions to her collection . She took t he girls with her on these jaunts but never imbued them with l!er ent_hu§iasm. rummage sales for as little as 25' to 50' or scavenging in the Algoma dump where she found dolls that, after careful cleaning a nd new clothes, became respectable and valuable additions to her collecction. She took the girls with her on these jaunts but never imbued them with her enthusiasm. People brought her dolls needing repairs and new clothes and soon she was a doll doctor in spite of the many other interests that kept her busy. By 1936 she had added collections of old Bibles, wedding dresses, thimbles and miniature kerosene lamps. The latter she kept in a cabi net upstairs. "This one was for colds," she said, pointing to the small conta iner the size of a sma ll doll cup above the glass globe. "A few drops of oil were put in the cup and the heat from the lamp made it give off an aromatic steam that relieved congestion. " Some lamps had been used for night lights, others were strictly ornamental. Over the years she had enjoyed playing the organ and piano, and without any lessons had become proficient on both. An upright piano with sheet music open on the rack stood against t he back wall of the living room. She had translated a song phonetically into Belgian. "You know, there is no written Belgian language," she said, 42

and was determ ined to have something of her Belgian backgrou nd for her childre n. T he house was a pi cture of Pearl herself, bits of her many interests in all corners, books piled beside her reading chair with bookma rks sticking out for cross reference - Walt Whitman, Emerson's Essays, Niezsche a nd modern novels. Beautiful china and crystal fill ed the dining room china closet and overflowed into t he kitchen cabinets . Dolls were everywhere, on c hai rs, in corners and upst airs . With it all , it was home with children running in and out as Du lc ine and .Jean's friends dropped by to visit Pearl whether or not the girls were there. Sometim es they accused their fri ends of liking t heir mother better than them. Pearl would serve iced tea, never soda, and cookies she had bought and kept in spec ial cookie jars for anyone who dropped by. She loved company a nd gave everyone, old and young, a gracious welcome. " o one liked to leave her," Jean said. And no one cared t hat Pearl was not dressed in the heigh t of fashion of t he day with a skirt down below her calves and shoes with four-inch heels. "Style was not important to her. She wore whatever was comfortable and would buy things at rummage sales," a friend said. "She was unique. " Almost before Pearl realized it, Dulcine was in high school and dating Sylvester Zuzanek, a tall, brown haired and blueeyed young man from Kewaunee. After her graduation she entered B ara t College in Lake Forest, Illinois, and Jean was not far behind her, now a young teenager in high school. Like people a ll over the United States, residents of Algoma were so busy working out of the great depression that had gripped the country since 1929, t hey took little notice of the political changes in Europe with the ascendancy of Adolph Hitler to power as dictator and cha ncellor of Germany in 1933. They read t hat England's Prime Minister Chamberlain had appeased Hit ler in a move to keep the balance of power in Europe, but they were more concerned with t he improvement in the economy in t he United States than in Europe's shaky national relations . As in World War I, most Americans shrugged and did not worry. Then in 1938, Germany occupied Austria, and t he next year took over Czechoslovakia and P oland. The balance of power was disrupted as the Nazis gained control. In September of 1939 England and France declared war on Germany. The signs were ominous and t he United States began to prepare for war, but it was not until December 7, 1941, when Japan bombed Pearl harbor that the United States entered the war against Germany and Japan. 43

1'roops were mobilized to fight the war on both fronts. Small towns like Algoma saw their young men go off to war, waving good-bye from crowded buses. Young and middle-aged women, as well as older men , flocked to work in t he factories; older women took care of the children and rolled bandages at the Red Cross. Everyone's life was changed as the homefront organ ized for t he war effort. Marie Cmeyla Detjen had left doctor's employ to have a baby a nd was enjoying her role as mother and housewife when he called to tell her he needed her back. N urses were hard to find . "Before I could say no, Dr. Foshion told me he'd asked my mother if she'd babysit with my two-year old da ughter and she said it would be all right, so I went to work at the hospital," Marie said, adding that her salary was $50 a month b ecause she lived at home. " I even saved enough to buy a new Plymouth coupe for $800," she said and laughed. By that time, Dulcine had graduated from Barat college and was teaching kindergarten in Sturgeon Bay; Sylvester was a B29 pilot stationed at Yuma, Arizona. When he returned home on leave h is lieutenant's uniform turned many a girl's head, and Dulcine's thoughts to marriage. With the war taking ever more young men's lives, Dulcine threw caution to the wind and followed Sylvester to Yuma where they were married on base. The first Pearl and doctor knew of the marriage was a telephone call. Dulcine was ecstatic . Her parents wished her happiness and hoped it would work out. When the newlyweds came home on leave they were full of plans to move to Algoma after the war. Listening to his son-in-law's stories about flying, doctor caught some of his enthusiasm and by the time Sylvester returned to Yuma Herbert was seriously thinking about learning to fly. It wasn't long afterward that he rented a piece of flat property inside the north limits of Algoma on the west side of County Trunk S and had it cleared for an airstrip. Pearl wasn't sure she liked the idea but said nothing. Doctor had to do what he thought best. In 1944 Herbert bought his first plane, a surplus Piper Cub, and hired an instructor to come out from Green Bay on Sundays to teach him to fly . H e was a natural. Flying released all the tensions within. Never one to worry about what she could not change, Pearl concentrated on her household and continued doing what she could for the war effort, rolling bandages and working for the Red Cross. Finally, the war was over in 1945; Sylvester was home with 44

Du lcine. They moved to an apart ment next to doctor's office in t he Schumacher Huild ing and Sylvester began working for t he city of Algoma. Hy that time Herbert had built a small hangar and had increased the number of planes to two. Within t he next few years he bought three more. The instructor con tinued to give fl yi ng lessons on Sundays to whoever wanted to take them and l he little airport was a going concern with a steady following of flyers hiring t he planes. Among t he students was Jim Lindeke, Jean's favorite young man whom she hoped to marry. They had known each other through high school, sta rting to date when she was 16 after she had dared to ask him to escort her to a party at a friend's house ..Jim had a delightful quick wit, brown eyes and was thin like Herbert with ambitions to become a doctor. The romance had kept .Jean's classmates at Barat College t itillated as t hey lived through her hopes and fears when Jim was in t he navy. He ret urned unscathed, his wit sharpened and his ambit ion higher than ever. Gathering from different areas, the classmates arrived for the big day on June 3, 1946, exactly 27 years after Pearl and Herbert's wedding, and took over the house, making punch and , in genera l, add ing festivity to the double celebration to which relatives and friends flocked . "I graduated on Monday and was married the next Monday," .Jean said. " Dulcine was m y maid of honor. " She walked down the aisle of the little M ethodist-Episcopal Church on her father's arm, a glowing and beautiful bride. After a brief honeymoon touring northern Wisconsin, J ean a nd .Jim moved into the apartment doctor had made in the second floor of the Foshions' home. Jim cont inued at St. Norbert's College and Jean taught kindergarten in Algoma. "Until I was too pregnant to t each," she said with a smile. " I used to fly to t he Green Bay airport which was where t he Packer Stadium is now," J im said. "My friends at St. Norbert,"s would watch for me and by the time t hey drove over I was there. It took about half an hour from t he time I left Algoma till I landed ." .Jean and Jim were a happy couple, enjoying each other's company, a nd looked forward to the baby. Dulcine had become pregnant before Jean and gave birth to a healthy son in J anuary, 1947 . She named him Herbert after her father. Pearl and t he little boy had a special relationship that was closer t ha n most grandmothers and grandsons have. Doctor, too, enjoyed his visits with his namesake. When J ean felt the first labor pain at 10 a.m . on M ay 5, Jim 45

drove her to t he hospital, never dreaming he would be a father by 10:30. Doctor put Jean in the operating room because a friend of hers was in the delivery room. " I worked at one end giving her gas, and doctor worked at t he other. He delivered her," Jim said. "And Pearl was there too, chas ing between Jean and her friend. " When doctor saw how tiny the baby was he asked Marie Detjen to stay and called Laura Knospe to come in to special. "She couldn't get enough oxygen, " Laura said. The two nurses worked throughout the day administering oxygen to try to keep the baby a live. She was so small the oxygen mask enveloped her head and they had to improvise a mask t hat would fit over her face by bending a funnel used to fill baby bottles. Jean thought Joan was dead, and doctor was not sure she could be saved. Jean's friend , who had had a strong, healthy baby, was in the same room. The contrast was heartbreaking, so Doctor ordered Jim to take Jean home and to stay with her. Laura and Marie continued their efforts. It was touch and go until, at last, Joan breathed on her own. Then Laura cradled her in her arms and settled in a rocking chair, afraid to leave her alone through the night. When Jim took baby Joan home the next day he also took an oxygen tank for possible emergency. "She was a colicky baby, " Jean said. "Jim studied with her on his lap ." When Jim transferred to the University of WisconsinMadison for his pre-med courses doctor bought a trailer so the young family could remain together. Classes were not easy and competition was stiff for the next two years. "There were too many pre-med students t hen and requirements for medical school were strict. Even with high marks you weren't sure of getting in," Jim said. "Twins took them; one with a 2.7 mark was accepted, the other with 2.5 was not. I didn 't make it and I couldn't take them again." The door to becoming a doctor was closed. Jim and Jean moved the trailer to his parent's place on Fremont Street in Algoma and Jim went to work for Plumbers Woodwork Company, then bought an ice cream parlor, which he ran for the next 27 years, and added a part-time job at the post office. Through it all, Jim kept his sense of humor and enjoyed a happy life with Jean. Pearl continued her busy community life - in church, the Scouts, the Eastern Star, Algoma Women's Club, Friends of the Library, American Legion Women's Auxiliary and the Kewaunee County Historical Society, and by 1945 had added 46

antique handkerchiefs to her number of collections. Then her innate curiosity led her to research the history of Algoma by interviewing heads of all the industries, businesses, churches and schools in the area. "I was a regular pest," she admitted, " but everyone was anxious to help. Of t he 33 industries t hat have been here, the first was a lumber mill and the second a grist mill. " To facilitate her job she bought a typewriter and learned to type and enlisted librarian Dorothy Ackerman's help in compiling the history. "All t he girls at the library were so helpful," she said, discounting her own years of untiring effort. When the proj ect was completed Pearl and Dorothy presented a program at the Algoma Women's Club annual meeting in June, 1948. It was an instant success, generating interest in Algoma's past and inspired a full page write-up in the Algoma Record-Herald. No one was surprised that Pearl would undertake such a demanding project. It was almost as if people expected her to accomplish the difficult. When the Algoma Methodist-Episcopa l Church needed to find a new money-raising project Pearl was a member of the Women's Circle who decided to try a smorgasbord in 1949. "We were in the little church on Fourth Street t hen. The first year we held it in the basement. The rooms were small and the kitchen was messy. There was water down there not hot - and we had to heat it. We had a lot of sandwich things and Scandinavian t hings, " Pearl said. " I remember Mrs. Meister - she was Swedish - insisted on white pepper for the meatballs but there wasn't any. She finally found it at Prange's." Pearl laughed . Seventy-five dinners were served that first year. Although Pearl's life encompassed so many things and touched so many people, she never appeared rushed. In her modest way she did the things that had to be done, always there when sh e was needed and never asking nor expecting praise. It was only natural for Jean to discuss her doubts over Joan's development with her mother when she first realized this little girl with the big brown eyes and dark brown hair was not running and skipping like other children her age nor speaking in sentences at t hree. "We noticed she didn't seem to be progressing," Jean said. When s he talked to her father he told her quietly he would make an appointment with a specialist in Milwaukee. Jean saw t he concern in his blue eyes and knew without another opinion that her fears were justified. J oan had been brain damaged from lack of oxygen in spite of Marie and Laura's heroic efforts the day she was born. 47

The moment of realization took all her faith and courage a nd .Jim 's sustaining love. T ogeth er t hey faced t he uncertain future with a child who would never be normal. "Some people told us to put her away," Jean said , " but how could you put your own child in a hom e? We love her. The rewards outweigh the hindrances." Except for t hat quirk of oxygen not getting to her brain, .Joan would have been like any normal child. Jean put the thought ou t of her m ind and concentrated on the job ahead. Pearl was a bulwa rk of strength, always there to give Jean l he moral support s he needed, and t he grandmot herly love .Joan responded to. Pat ient and understanding, Pearl had a special rapport with t he lit tle girl who often flew into rages that Pearl 's gentle persuasion calmed. Added to his heartac he over Joa n, doctor was p lagued by such a severe case of tic de la roux in the fift h a nd eighth nerves of his face he injected himself with alcohol to deaden t he pain. T he nurses knew of it but he did not tell Pearl and contin ued to fly and live as if nothing were wrong. " He kept his student's license," Jean said. " If he' d had a pilot's license he cou ld have taken passengers but he liked flying by himself. He needed t hat time alone ." After doctor built a runway on t he old homestead in Little Sturgeon P earl would drive up to meet him t here, but she noticed he had lost some of his enthusiasm and often touched his face when he thought she was not looking. She wondered what was wrong but sa id nothing; he would tell h er when he was ready. Finally, doctor decided to go to Madison for tests and surgery. On ce his decision was made, he told Pearl. In July of 1951 she accompanied h im to Madison for the opera t ion that would cut t he nerves in his face and give him relief. " Doctor Foshion had sent my husband up to Madison for tests," Laura Knospe said. " When doctor was being wheeled by, my husband waved to him. " The surgery was a success but the patient hemorrhaged and died. Pearl cou ldn't believe it, didn't want t o believe it, and was sure t here was some mistake. It couldn' t have been doctor. "She was so up in the air a nd asked me to stay with her, " Laura said, remembering that heartbreaking day when she and Pearl had clung to each other and cried together. The autopsy showed Herbert h ad also had muscular distrophy and heart trouble. Pearl looked back on her years with Herbert and they had been good, even the period of scrimping and saving when he went to medical school. But why, God, why did he ha ve to die now? He was in th e prime of life and had seen his dreams, 48

their dreams, come true. Pearl squeezed back the tears and reached for her Bible. Surely, she would find comfort in its pages as she had so many t imes before. Herbert - doctor. They blended into one and she cried , the Hible unopened on her lap. Sometime later she roused herself. picked u p pen and paper and wrote: " I have lost my life's

companion , A life linked wi th my own. Day by day l miss him mo re As I walk through life a lon e." She reread it a nd sl ipped t he verse in a book of prayers she kept by her chair. S he had made her peace, life had to go on. End of 1951 Somehow, P earl accepted her loss and marshalled her inner resou rces for a life of widowhood. She continued going to meetings, seeing friends and renewing her interest in the collections she had so enjoyed accumu lating. Dulcine's boys, Herbert and Lee, ran in and out Lo brighten her days after school and Joan loved to stay with " Bi ckey," as she called her gra ndmother, when her mother and father were away. Gradually, Pearl began to rebuild her life. On October 28, 1951, three and a half months after Herbert's death , the City of Algoma dedicated the new, modern Algom a Me moria l Hospita l built at 1510 Fremont S treet. No ment ion of Dr. Foshion was made. Pearl could not help showing t he hurt she felt at the city's d isregard of the doctor who had pioneered Algoma's first hospital. " He should have been mentioned," she said quietly and kept wha tever else she felt to herself. Wi t h T hanksgiving and Christmas so close, she would not let herself look back or bemoan the slight to doctor, and plunged into preparat ions for the holidays. Then on December 10, she received word from t he Spiritualist camp in Florida, where her mother had been staying, that Rosalie Dewarzeger had died. Pearl bowed her head and sobbed. 49

The Years Alone The yearly S morgasbord a t the Methodist-Episcopal Church had become an area-wide function to which people came from miles around. By 1957 it had grown to such proportions the little church could not accommodate t he 900 diners. " So we moved it to the Dug-Out," Pearl said. "All the townspeople helped. We borrowed stoves from the dealers and got hot water from t he creamery . Everybody had a job . Little girls waited on ta ble and little boys were busboys. The men washed dishes in big aluminum washtubs they brought with them. " The women cooked at home and on the borrowed stoves in Knudson Hall. Referring to a 1957 issue of the defunct Methodist magazine, Together, Pearl read: " Mrs. Robert Gaulke, wife of the president of the DoorKewaunee County Teachers College, supervised the big feed. Such dishes as Potatis Korn (potato sausage) came from one hom e. Fattigman Bakeslser (poor man's cookies) came from another, Sur S ild (pickled herring) from somewhere else. T he menu featured 30 Scandinavian specialities, including hot and cold meats, smoked and pickled fish , sausages, cheese, salads, relishes, desserts and 12 kinds of bread." As she put t he magazine down Pearl continued, " And we always made rosettes. The rosette iron was dipped in batter and then in hot fat . T he most we ever made was 14 batches with 70 to 80 in a batch . An d one time, it must have been the same year, I made 1000 cups of coffee. "The other churches lent us tables and chairs. Everyone in town was generous , I guess because we were such a little church t hey felt sorry for us. "And at first we wore skirts and blouses we had, whatever we thought looked Scandinavian, " she said. (A few years later t hey had Swedish costumes made and kept them from year to year.) In 1960 the Methodist-Episcopal Church became part of the United Methodist Church, an d a modern building was erected on Parker Avenue . It included church, office, classrooms, lounge and a well-equipped kitchen, and dining room large enough to accommodate the hundreds of people who flocked to the s morgasbord from as far away as Milwaukee. Pearl was part of the church's expansion and integral part of the community . In her spare time, she continued to add to her history of Algoma as new industries moved to town. Soon, she was known as well for her antiques and doll collection which had reached some 3000 dolls she had grouped sytematically in the big bedroom upstairs. Each doll was labeled as to type and a ge. In one cabinet she displayed antique b isque-headed dolls; 50

in another dolls from different countries. Among those was a ten-inch doll she had made to fit t he detailed copy of a man's suit, shirt and tie given to her by a tailor. Standing together was a group of brown-eyed, bisque-headed dolls she lovingly rearranged as she talked, and in one corner stood dolls that wore a child's size two dress. " This one Mrs. Rankin's art class at school made out of papier mache," Pearl said, picking up t he Carol Burnett charwomn character from among movie star replicas. Each of her dolls had a history and a memory Pearl liked to share, one of t he nicest being the Christmas she received 11 dolls as presents. "It's a hobby that grows on you. The more you read the more involved you get," she said and advised new collectors to concentrate on one particular kind . "You will have a better collection." But then, Pearl read about all her hobbies and continued to read anything that interested her, sharing some of her books over t he phone with a blind friend. Her only concern was worry over Dulcine's health which fluctuated with her moods. Sylvester was with the post office, first as a mail carrier then as a rural route carrier for the Algoma post office. The boys, Herbert and Lee, had fin ished college and were on their own in Minnesota and Illinois. Pearl was closer to Herbert and heard from him often. He was interested in her projects and admired her many talents, wanting to know details about her life and the family , which prompted her to start a scrapbook of clippings and memorabi lia for him , "the Bickey book," as t hey laughingly called it. At 72, Pearl led a full life, touched by love and t he adm iration of her fa mily and friends. When the call came that September morning of 1971 she was not prepared for the news. Dulcine was ill, in fact, she could not be awakened. Pearl rushed to Dulcine's house and found Dr. March a lready there. Whatever had triggered her condition, Dulcine was in a coma. After she was taken to the hospital Pearl sat beside the bed helplessly with a feeling of deja vu of when Herbert had died so unexpectedly. She could not accept what was happening and that the doctor could do nothing. Twenty-four hours later Dulcine died at the age of 51. The Later Years Again Pearl refused to inflict her heart break on those around her. Instead, she worked harder for the different organizations to which she belonged and finished her history of Algoma, bringing it up to date. In t he 1970s she presented it to the 51

Algoma Public Library. After having been installed as conductress of the Eastern Star time and again, as matron and h istorian, the group honored her at a dinner on December 13, 1977, for her fifty years of service.