AnsonJ

For most of us, one of the most enduring features of the College El experience was the annual trip to Sleeper State Park in the first week of October of every year. History tells us that Albert E. Sleeper, a former resident of Huron County, was Michigan Governor from 1917 -1920, and was partially responsible for the establishment of our state park system. Our destination within the park was an old WPA camp left over from the road building effort of the New Deal. In the 50's and 60's, the camp was used by Boy Scouts, Girl Scout, and other youth groups as a summer retreat. Since our time slot was always in October, we were probably the last group of the year. As many of us recall, the park was fairly large and relatively undeveloped at the time.

Since I was only nine years old when I boarded the bus in the fall of 1955, I remember having a certain amount of "Camp Granada" apprehension as we trekked the 100 miles from Mt. Pleasant to Caseville. Although the entire trip took only about three hours, keeping a bunch of grade school kids occupied was not easy. Our fourth grade teacher, Miss Ethel Praeger, gave us maps of things to look for along the way, and tried to solicit our curiosity with each passing point of interest. Some of these things included the merger of the Pine and Chippewa Rivers into the Tittabawassee in Midland, the Dow Chemical plant, the lumbermen's mansions in Bay City, and the coal mines in Unionville. Today, I found M-25 north of Bay City to be virtually unchanged over the past 48 years from what I could remember.

In terms of "luggage," we were all allowed one small suitcase, as well as a bedroll which we promptly retrieved from a CMC trunk that had been traveling with us. We were then assigned to one of about 18 hastily constructed cabins that had been built about 25 years earlier to house the WPA workers.

As anyone might expect, visiting the camp in 2005 bore witness to quite a few changes. As I looked at old camp pictures, many of the trees were aspen and poplars. Although these trees were quite tall, they only represented 25 or so years of growth. Throughout the camp were strategically placed pine trees in the range of four feet tall that had obviously been planted to replace the original trees. These trees have now grown to maturity, and the entire camp is now nestled beneath a dark canopy of pine.

When I visited in early October of 2005, it appeared that the camp had already been closed for the season. I was pleasantly surprised to find the cabins still well maintained, although perhaps not quite as fresh as they had been in prior years. Peering through the windows, many of the old steel bunk beds were still there, although probably hiding under numerous coats of paint. In our day, heat was from oil stoves, which have now been replaced by gas space heaters. Because the College El faculty was paranoid about us being cold, most of the cabins were overheated to the point that some of us got sick. If you became ill, you were moved to a separate cabin that housed all of the sick kids. The school nurse, an RN, would then see that everyone was properly medicated.

Today, the central meeting hall or "mess hall" has been replaced by a more modern but smaller facility. In our day, the mess hall was the center of our activities as well as our meals. Prior to departure to camp, we were all required to contribute several cans of fruits and vegetables as part of our contribution to the food supply. Each evening, we received various concoctions based on these miscellaneous mixtures. Otherwise, we had the standard goulash, hot dogs, potato salad, and other things that could be prepared in the kitchen facilities.

As the evening meal drew to a close, we spontaneously began singing, "Where, Oh, Where is Sadie?" Sadie, of course, was a small object, such as a tough depressor, which could be clandestinely passed along from one camper to the next throughout the day. Whoever was stuck with Sadie at dinnertime was required to perform some kind of skit. In actuality, anyone who did not want to perform a skit probably passed Sadie along, while others were actually hoping to be the Sadie recipient of the day. About 80% of the time, the recipients were the student teachers, a.k.a, the camp counselors, or the College El teachers. I still remember a couple of the songs they taught.

After Sadie was over, we took turns helping on the cleanup or "KP," which had to be done fairly quickly if we had an evening event planned. Among the evening activities was Skit Night, where each cabin was required to plan and conduct some kind of humorous "stage" performance.

As I recall, some of the best of these performers were by the teachers and student teachers, partially because they were so out of character from there usual role. Another night was devoted to a campfire down on the lakeshore. However, all activities needed to be wrapped up by about 9:00 so that all of us could rest for the next day's trips, and more importantly, the faculty and student teachers could have about an hour conference regarding the activities of the day.

Each dawn was heralded with "Revelry" trumpeted by a designated student such as David Mayhew or Jimmy Orr. Although dilapidated, the flagpole which we dutifully surrounded for the "Pledge of Allegiance" still stands, but any flag hoisted today would be caught in the trees.

Another activity related to camp improvement. Even today, there is a tradition at most state camps that each group will do something to improve the camp itself. Therefore, the afternoon of one day would be set aside for a simple work project. On at least two occasions, we worked on sections of the corduroy paths. Whether good or bad, it appears that the corduroy paths have now been reclaimed by the surrounding forest.

First, I knew that the radar station had been closed many years ago when the DOD finally decided that the Soviets were unlikely to launch a bomber attack against the Michigan auto industry. Second, the limestone mine would not be open for fossil hunting like it was in the 1950's.

Third, the old schoolhouse we visited near Port Hope would certainly have been swallowed by time. Fourth, the eagle's nest south of the camp was falling apart in 1957, so I knew that it would be gone as well. We did, however, see a couple of eagles around the park, which tells me that there is probably a new eagle's nest somewhere in the area. When we visited Crescent City in 1957, all that remained was the smokestack from an abandoned smelter. Although I could not relocate the area that we had explored, it appears that at least some of the property is now the site of Port Crescent State Park. All of this aside, here is what I did find.

In the declining years of commercial fishing on the Great Lakes, the Bay Port Fish Company was probably one of the last remaining fishing operations on Saginaw Bay. I was fortunate to find that the company is still in operation, but only as a retail outlet. Many of the remaining buildings no longer appear to be in use.

In 1957, I vaguely remember the buses passing a sign bearing "PRIVATE DRIVE" as we ventured to what we thought was the northernmost extension of Michigan's thumb. As a technicality, this projection, Point Aux Barques, was NOT really the northernmost projection into Lake Huron.

That honor belongs to the old railroad pier about two miles to the east. However, that information at the time would surely have quashed the aura of the trip to the "tip of the thumb" for a bunch of grade school students.

I had been told that the "Private Drive" was now blocked by a guard shack that would bar entry to nonresidents. Fortunately, by early October, the guardhouse was not staffed. Ignoring the "Private Drive" sign, I ventured north on the narrow road in hopes of catching a glimpse of Turnip Rock and snapping an updated picture. The best I could do was to find a vantage point where I could see the west side of the long shale projection into the lake which Ethel Praeger called the "Thumbnail of Michigan." Turnip Rock, on the east side, was not in view. With the onrush of today's commercial development of the lakeshore, the only way to get a picture from the "onshore" side of Turnip Rock is by standing on the front lawn of someone's $2,000,000 summer home. Since we were starting to get some evil glances from a couple of local residents, we decided to leave. Checking the web with Google, there are postcards for sale of Turnip Rock taken many years ago. However, this piece of unique Michigan scenery has, for all intents and purposes, been lost to commercial development.

This search resulted in my second disappointment laid to waste by commercial development. All of us remember that the shoreline of Grind Stone City was covered by discarded lime grindstones. Most of these stones were about six feet in diameter, and were probably dumped as an erosion barrier when lime grindstones were no longer saleable. I recall travel literature from about 30 years ago featured pictures of this magnificent shoreline laced with about 400 yards of these stones.

Unfortunately, the shoreline was privately owned, and was subsequently sold to commercial developers. Apparently, these developers saw the stones as a barrier to the shoreline access rather than an asset. The stones were either sold or given away to local resident, and they now grace many driveway entrances. In a discussion with a local convenience store owner, I discovered that many local people regret that the grind stone shoreline is gone. She implied that the township could not afford to buy the land, so the stones were left to the mercy of the land developer. Many people still come to Grind Stone City in search of the stones they remembered seeing in literature printed years ago. She also gets about five inquiries per year from visitors that would like to buy additional stones, and some local people have actually sold their stones, apparently for fairly good prices. However, as I previously noted, the grindstone heritage is now lost.

On a brighter note, Rush Lake is doing great, partially because much of the lake is on state land which adjoins Sleeper State Park. I remember seeing signs in 1957 that read, "State Property: Open to Hunting." With the popularity of bow hunting and the opening of deer season, we counted about 15 SUVs parked along the access road leading to the lake. However, we saw no hunters and no deer-- just SUVs.

In the interest of maintaining the shoreline of Rush Lake for wildlife, DNR has apparently blocked most of the old access spurs that led to the lake in favor of one large access area and boat ramp. Ethel Praeger called Rush Lake a "dying lake," because the plant life was gradually advancing from the shoreline leaving less and less open water. In 48 years, I could definitely see less open water, verifying the hypothesis.

As I mentioned at the outset, the annual trip to Sleeper State Park was one of the most enduring experiences of our elementary school education. Although permission slips were sufficient in the 1950's environment to indemnify the school, I doubt that today's litigious environment would allow for such an excursion. Furthermore, herding that many kids today with a small contingent of faculty and student teachers would be far more difficult. As my wife reminded me, in those days grade school kids actually did what they were told to do.

I vaguely recall that the annual excursions to camp were dropped a few years prior to the demise of the College El in 1968. Exact records are sketchy at best about the activities in later years because of the Rowe Hall fire. In today's dollars, such an excursion without private funding would also be cost prohibitive.

Returning to Sleeper State Park had been on my "to do" list for well over 40 years. Since it took me this long to finally make the trip, it is unlikely that I will make it again. But I think that it was well worth the effort.

Enough of my thoughts. My next step was to send all of this Richard Gwinn, a.k.a., Cripple Creek. He did his student teaching while I was in the fourth grade, and was a resident of the region. The camp experience was important to him as well. He made several other important observations.

3. The smokestack at Crescent City we deem to be dangerous, so it was take down and rebuilt as a short memorial stack to the village of what was once 700 people. His great grandfather helped build the original smokestack over 130 years ago.

4. One of the big industries in the Caseville area is now dairy farming. Some farms have 1000 to 2000 cows. Unfortunately, this and other farming activities create a water run-off problem that contributes to the pollution of Saginaw Bay.

5. The 150-year-old limestone mine that we visited near Bay Port is called the Wallace Stone Plant, and is the third largest limestone mine in the country. It is still open to student tour groups, but not to the drop-in public.

8. Richard Gwinn and Clarice Gregorich Pawlicki, who interned together at College El, both went on to distinguished teaching careers in the Utica Public school system. For 17 years, the Utica schools were able to run a camp program of their own. Having hired quite a few teachers from CMU, they were able to utilize their knowledge of how to set up camp activities and otherwise run a camp. He further noted that these same teachers, "... were more willing and capable to take on pilot program or enrich curriculums."

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