Inspiration
for a Town ~ The First 75 years ~ The
Second 75 Years ~ Drama on the Lake ~ Harbor
Lights ~ A Shoreline Preserved ~ The
Revival in the Lake ~ A Postscript
Inspiration for a
Town [To The Top]
Isaac C. Elston might be considered the founder of Michigan
City, but three men named McDonald, Elliot and Neely were its finders. Those four
gentlemen, the Indiana General Assembly, and most of the town's early settlers and
investors were inspired by the same expectation: That in this place would develop a great
commercial waterway. John McDonald, Chester Elliot and John Neely came, respectively, from
Daviess, Warwick and Gibson counties. They were sent by the state legislature in 1828 to
the sand and wilderness of northernmost Indiana to survey the entire Lake Michigan
shoreline and determine the best location for a harbor and a city. Their search ended at
the mouth of Trail Creek. Here, they concluded, was the ideal location for the new
community which was to be the northern terminus of the Michigan Road. In an 1826 treaty
with the United States, Pottawattomie Indians had ceded land on which the north-south road
would be constructed. It would connect Lake Michigan with Madison on the Ohio River,
opening great new potentials for Indiana commerce, settlement and growth. The ambitious
undertaking stirred interest throughout the state - and gave the town a name before it had
even one inhabitant. Hoosiers referring to the city to be built on the lakeshore quite
naturally called it "the city on Lake Michigan." That soon was shortened to
"the Michigan City" and, finally, "Michigan City." The community had a
name before it came into official existence - a name that most appropriately derived from
its lakefront location. In October of 1830, Major Elston of Crawfordsville purchased a
quarter mile of land that included the mouth of Trail Creek in Michigan City. Later, he
bought more. He made his purchases sight unseen - a testimonial to the potential
envisioned for the future port city. (And he sold half his purchase to New Yorkers for
$250,000 cash, another indicator of the promise foreseen for Michigan City.) Gov. James
Ray (the only "non-partisan" governor in the state's history) stated in his 1829
message that the Michigan Road's northern terminus was at the mouth of a river "where
a harbour for vessels may be easily made." It seemed so. It was not to prove so. The
1908 Oglesbee-Hale history of Michigan City reports: "Beginning with the opening of
the road there came to Michigan City a large forwarding business and for years thereafter
grain and farm produce was hauled to the warehouses on the lake from as far as
Indianapolis." Indeed, there was a burst of enthusiasm after the Federal government
appropriated $20,000 for the Michigan City harbor in 1837. The good news prompted Gov.
Noah Noble to suggest - and the legislature to agree - that improvements be made to the
road. Julius Adams, the engineer appointed to make the study, came up with a grandiose
proposal to make the entire Michigan Road a boulevard of hexagonal plank. The
Oglesbee-Hale history notes: "The country was in a frenzy of internal improvement at
that time but the magnificence of this new proposal was startling to the wise men of
Indiana when it burst upon them in January, 1838. It soon transpired, however, that the
scheme had powerful support in the lobbies and gradually it was learned that a prodigious
graft was being attempted; only with great difficulty was it defeated..." (LaPorte
County legislators Charles W. Cathcart and Charles McClure actively opposed the scheme.)
An interesting fact in Adams' report to the legislature was his report that it required an
average of 14 days for a six-horse wagon and load to travel the Michigan Road from
Indianapolis to Michigan City. One effect of the economic panic of 1837 was the shelving
of a proposal for the building of a railroad to the lake beside the Michigan Road.
Considering the competitive situation involving two lake cities in those early years -
Chicago and Michigan City - some may wonder if construction of such a railroad at the time
might have made a difference in the outcome. As the historians wrote: "The two places
were not far apart in size. Chicago's estuary was not as favorable for harbor purposes as
that of Trail Creek, and there was every reason to anticipate for Michigan City a position
of supremacy in the commerce on the lake. It was by force of circumstances beyond the
control of man that the wonderful western metropolis grew up elsewhere than at the foot of
Hoosier Slide..." . People in the town and in the state, legislators and governors,
and visitors to Michigan City readily recognized the natural potential of the channel as a
great harbor of commerce and refuge. Now if only the congressmen in Washington could be
made to share the same enthusiasm for the development of the southern Lake Michigan port
at Michigan City... That was to be a big and frustrating "If."
"Pushing the Port Potential"
The Fourth of July in 1836 was a day of double rejoicing in
Indiana's newly incorporated lakefront community. On that date, President Andrew Jackson
signed a bill appropriating $20,000 for development of a harbor at Michigan City. The
amount was modest, but was interpreted by happy local citizens as evidence that the United
States government had, after a five year effort by city and Indiana advocates, finally
recognized the potential for a major port here. This first federal investment was viewed
as earnest money. And, by appropriate happenstance, the first commercial vessel ever to
enter Trail Creek was brought in on that same Independence Day. The ship was a little
schooner, the Sea Serpent. It was dragged and towed by a crowd of enthusiastic citizens to
a point on the creek almost as Franklin Street. Getting the vessel over the sand bar,
which had long provided a natural obstacle at the mouth of the creek, was no easy task.
Her keel plowed across the bar with great difficulty. The celebration which took place
that day on Michigan City's waterfront is described by Jasper Packard: "A barrel of
whiskey was rolled out and set upon end, then the head was knocked in, a nail was driven
partly in the side, and a tin cup was hung on it, when every man helped himself; and it
may be presumed that no one failed to partake in his full share of the liquid. It was a
general spree in which every last man lent a hand." Before the successful docking of
the Sea Serpent-and for most ships for some years after-there was no entering the
"harbor". Instead, as the Oglesbee-Hale history describes it: "...It had
been necessary for vessels at this port to anchor outside in the roadstead, prepared to
slip cables and make for the open sea for safety at short notice in case of sudden
storm...and freight was taken or discharged by means of lighters, small enough to be poled
over the bar."
Two years before the Michigan Road was completed, and five
years before Michigan City was incorporated, the state of Indiana had begun imploring the
United States Congress to assist in development of a harbor at Michigan City. There were
some skeptics who doubted that a harbor of refuge was even possible to construct on the
southern shore of Lake Michigan. One of them (writing in 1821) is quoted in a history
book: "It is yet somewhat problematical whether a safe and permanent harbor can be
constructed by any effort of human ingenuity, upon the bleak and naked shores of these
lakes, exposed, as they are, to the most furious tempests." The skepticism was not
widely shared. Certainly it was not prevalent among members of the 1831 Indiana General
Assembly, who adopted a joint resolution asking that the federal government make a survey
of the mouth of the river at Michigan City "with instructions to examine and report
as to the practicability, best manner and expense of improving the same." There
followed a response from Washington that was to become all too familiar in future years:
silence. In 1832, the legislature tried once more. It specifically asked Congress for an
appropriation. Part of the resolution read: "It is represented to this General
Assembly that the construction of a safe harbour and the erection of a light house ... are
objects of great utility to the Union, important to the commercial adventurer as well as
the local agriculturalist, and of peculiar interest to our growing population in that
quarter and ... the means at our disposal are utterly inadequate to accomplish the
construction and erection of said works." Edward A. Hannegan of Michigan City voted
for the resolution in the state legislature. He was elected to Congress in the next
election (the only Michigan City resident to achieve that honor) and his first act in
Washington was to submit the document to his fellow congressmen - along with a resolution
requesting the Committee on Roads and Canals to consider an appropriation for the
necessary survey and construction of a harbor at the mouth of Trail Creek. That was Dec.
18, 1833. On Jan. 2, 1834, the Indiana Legislature produced still another resolution for
forwarding to Washington, stating that: "The mouth of Trail Creek ... has been
adjudged to afford the best harbor for vessels within the limits of the state... and from
the peculiar nature of the mouths of rivers and creeks on Lake Michigan, it is obstructed
in a considerable degree by the barriers of sand which surround the entrance of streams in
said lake, and which can only be removed and prevented by the "excavation of basins
and the erection of piers ... From surveys already made at the mouth of the creek ...
there is found to be as great a depth of water over the bar as at any point on the
southern shore of the lake within this state, and that a small sum of money properly
applied, would make the same a safe and convenient harbour; which harbour is imperiously
demanded by the extraordinary improvements of the country in the northern parts of
Indiana, and the necessity of protecting and regulating the extensive commerce, which is
already extending itself from and to this point." Pausing for breath, the author
continued: "Indiana, with only 40 miles of coast, has little opportunity to ask for
such favors, and the salt and other supplies to be demanded by the dense population soon
to inhabit her fertile soil gives the matter a national importance." Rep. Hannegan
transmitted the message immediately to Congress. It was referred to the Committee on Roads
and Canals. Hannegan testified before the committee. He addressed his colleagues from the
House floor. He succeeded in obtaining the desired authority, which then went through
channels of the War Department to Col. J.J. Abert, chief of the topographical bureau. On
Oct. 10, 1834, he ordered Lt. John M. Berrien to conduct a survey of the mouth of Trail
Creek to ascertain its potential as a harbor. Lt. Berrien made his report Jan. 19, 1835,
it was transmitted to the Senate Feb. 9. The report included a map and gives an accurate
description of the creek and adjacent section of the lake at that date. It shows that at
its widest part, the stream measured 120 feet and at the mouth about 30. At the mouth
there was a depth of one foot, increasing to six feet upstream. The stream did not appear
subject to flooding, the current was slight, there was a smooth clay bottom, and the creek
"did not bring down any inconvenient quantity of sediment." The bar at the mouth
was formed by drifting sand from adjacent hills, the report stated. There was good
anchorage for vessels outside. Needed improvements were said to be the widening of the
stream and deepening to nine feet - "sufficient for the largest vessels and the
construction of piers." There was ample timber for the project on the banks, the
lieutenant reported, but stone would have to be brought from Chicago. On Dec. 22, 1835,
the Senate again asked for a report; the same one was transmitted. In private letter to
Cong. Hannegan, dated Feb. 20, 1835, Col. Abert said that construction of a breakwater at
a cost of $84,240 would afford sufficient protection from winds and waves to permit the
stream to clean itself and provide a safe outer harbor. No action yet having come out of
Washington, on Feb. 8, 1836, both houses of Congress heard (and each referred to its
Committee on Commerce) a petition signed by the masters of 16 vessels who sailed the south
part of the lake. The petitioners said: "That during the last two years there has
been in immense increase of transportation and especially to different places on Lake
Michigan. That this lake does not abound with harbors, hence navigation is extremely
dangerous, and in the opinion of the petitioners, it is practicable, at a reasonable
expense, to construct a pier or breakwater at Michigan City, Indiana, so as to answer both
the purposes of a harbor for that flourishing town, and also serve the important object of
a general place of safety and protection for the whole fleet in time of danger." The
petition had been circulated the prior summer. At the same time, a committee of Michigan
City citizens wrote to Col. Abert asking for a copy of Lt. Berrien's plan and estimate.
The colonel bucked the letter to the lieutenant for answer. Lt. Berrien replied at length
Nov. 14. His letter discussed the relative advantages of the pier and breakwater plans. He
favored the latter. He said the subject was of great importance because of the growing
need for a harbor in the south part of the lake. He expressed his opinion that Trail Creek
afforded the best opportunity listing the nearest other location as Grand River 120 miles
away. "(Trail Creek's) position being nearer the head of the lake than any point
offering any facilities for the construction of a harbor or any advantages in point of
trade, the mouth of the creek presents itself as of the greater importance from the fact
that beyond it no advantages offer for similar improvements," Lt. Berrien wrote. His
enthusiastic endorsement of the Michigan City site - one which clearly ranked it superior
to Chicago - was given wide circulation and attracted considerable investment capital to
Michigan City. Historians of the period credit the lieutenant's comments with clearly
aiding the town's growth. Thus encouraged, Major Elston once more rallied his allies in
the legislature. On Jan. 23, 1836, another resolution was adopted and forwarded to
Washington. It reiterated past points. It referred to recent fatal wrecks on the Indiana
coastline. It stressed the importance of the harbor to eastern states whose merchants were
interested in the Michigan City port as a place of trade. Of the town just about to be
incorporated, it stated: "On that shore, so lately wild and uninhabited, a city is
now springing up, an enterprising people are fixing their homes. Already the constant hum
of business is heard there, and the sails of commerce begin to whiten the hitherto
undisturbed waters of the great lake ... The amount of money paid for the freight of
produce and merchandise at Michigan City during the past year has exceeded $20,000. The
value of the merchandise landed at the same place in the same period, and forwarded from
thence into the interior of our state, we are certainly informed, has been upwards of
$400,000. Indeed the whole northern part of our state for near one hundred miles south
from Lake Michigan has received its supply mainly through that channel, and must continue
to do so, until other works of internal improvement shall be completed. It is now the only
road to the city of New York. An appropriation has been made by Congress to erect a
lighthouse at this point, and nothing now is wanted but a commodious harbor, to make the
navigation of that part of the lake safe and the anchorage good." On April 2, 1836,
the House Committee on Commerce reported a bill which included an appropriation for a
harbor at Michigan City. Following several sessions of the committee of the whole, a vote
took place June 8, 1836. The bill passed, 99-85. Ironically, Rep. Hannegan was absent.
There were motions to table, to strike out the enacting clause, to re-refer, to cut the
amount in two but all failed and the bill went to the Senate. After a stormy career it
passed with amendments July 2. The House concurred in the amendments, and the bill went to
the desk of President Jackson, who signed it July 4. After all of the resolutions, all of
the lobbying and petitioning, the studies and reports, the speeches and debates, the
Federal government had consented to invest $20,000 in the harbor at Michigan City. Local
citizens celebrated, they pulled the Sea Serpent over the sand bar, and they awaited the
benefits of the action in Washington.
During the time the Michigan City harbor proposal had been
a hot potato in the halls of Congress, some local merchants had done what they could to
foster commerce at the lakefront. The Oglesbee-Hale history notes: . "The Blairs and
perhaps some of the other local forwarding merchants at one time built a pier extending to
deep water from the creek mouth and laid a track of wooden stringers on which small cars
were pushed from the warehouses to the end of the pier, where vessels could tie up in
pleasant weather. Many such piers and tracks were constructed along the shore north of
Michigan City in after years to accommodate the shippers of wood and lumber." The
$20,000 having been appropriated in 1836, orders descended through the chain of command
until they got to Capt. Ward B. Burnet of the Army Corps of Engineers - the man initially
assigned to supervise the construction of a harbor. Sporadic additional appropriations
between 1836 and 1870 brought the total funded for the harbor by that date to $287,388.92.
The creek was widened and deepened, and piers and revetments built to protect it. The
channel in 1870 had an average depth of 12 feet. The Oglesbee-Hale book states: "In
1870, Congress, aroused by the demands of the citizens and impelled by the report of the
engineers who saw that a simple inner harbor would not accommodate the rapidly growing
commerce at the foot of the lake, made a specific appropriation of $25,000 for the outer
harbor. The plan prepared was to comprise an outer basin, of some 40 acres located to the
east of the entrance to the inner harbor, and an exterior detached breakwater to the
westward designed to give increased safety to vessels entering during heavy weather; the
combination (of inner and outer harbors) was intended to provide a safe harbor of refuge
against northerly gales, for general commerce. Work on the outer harbor facilities began
in1870. That construction and its repair, and further work on the upstream channel,
constituted the Federal government investment of funds, manpower and expertise up to the
end of the century. Lt. Col. G. J. Lydecker was engineer in charge for the Army Corps from
1894 until 1899, and again quoting the Oglesbee-Hale history -- "it was owing to his
energy that the government began to realize the necessity of fostering the commerce of
Michigan City ... In his report for the year 1895 he states that no great advantage to
local commerce can be secured unless all the projects should be immediately
completed." Once more, those actually on the scene - familiar with the situation here
- saw the need for action. But Washington moved slowly, snail-pace slowly, to respond. The
historians continue: "In 1897...dissatisfaction not only with the progress of the
work, but also at the character of the plan itself, became so general that it could no
longer be ignored. The draft of vessels using this area of Lake Michigan had long exceeded
the modest allowance of 12 feet; steamers for the carriage of freight had come into more
general use, superseding the original sailing schooners which had in earlier times brought
merchandise and lumber to Michigan City; a considerable passenger traffic had likewise
been developed between this harbor and Chicago. One great purpose for which the outer
harbor had been planned was the protection to be offered to craft of all kinds exposed to
the sudden and severe storms apt to occur at any moment near Michigan City, but in place
of the protection promised, the piers and cribs forming the outer harbor had become in
reality a source of danger, so that sailing masters and pilots actually avoided rather
than sought this harbor. Naturally the residents of Michigan City were dissatisfied with
the result and distressed at the loss of cargoes, or not infrequently of life, which
occurred." Some were suspicious of the preferred treatment being given to the Chicago
harbor. Congress had spent millions there up to 1897 - but only $1.2 million on the
Michigan City harbor, even though neutral observers had often deemed it advantageous to
Chicago's before the funding flowed. "The injustice was evident," the historians
wrote, "and the War Department (Feb. 16, 1897) convened a board of engineer officers
to advise on some change in the location of the outer breakwaters." The board
recommended radical alterations in the engineers' plans - implementation of which would
cost an estimated $282,150. Congress reacted in its traditional pattern: The following
year, it appropriated $7,500 for the Michigan City harbor-and it specified it was only for
use on the inner harbor! Finally, on June 6, 1900, the Congress appropriated $195,000 for
outer harbor work. In 1902, another $63,000 was provided. Summing up the situation as it
looked at the beginning of this century, the historians commented "... the harbor is
not completed, yet the government is wiser than it was, and there is every prospect that
Michigan City will before long be equipped to care for and foster the extensive commerce
that is hers by right." They made plain their conclusion that the fault for delays
and misjudgments and inadequate funding rested with Congress: "There was bad politics
at the bottom of it all, in which outside interests prevailed, although the
representatives from this district did everything possible to gain a proper recognition
for the only state harbor in Indiana." They added: "But the story of the
Michigan City Harbor would be incompletely and poorly told, if only the reports of
Congress were examined. To catch the vital element in this growth of nearly 80 years, the
unwritten history of the town itself must be studied, and public documents, transactions
of the local business organizations, as well as the public spirited and often
self-sacrificing conduct of the men of affairs, must be investigated." A prime
example of what they meant occurred locally in reaction to a period of time in which the
Federal government was particularly inattentive to the Michigan City harbor needs. After
1838, there was an interval of six years before another cent was allowed. In 1844, $25,000
was appropriated, but not until 1852 was even $20,000 forthcoming. And from then until
1866 there is a period of 14 years during which nothing whatever was attempted or
accomplished for Michigan City by those having power in Washington. "Much of this
neglect must be explained by the crisis of the Civil War," the history book
acknowledges, "in which all the money obtainable from any source was devoted to the
cost of that awful struggle, but the need was there and the citizens themselves bravely
attempted to meet it. July Fourths seem to be significant dates where Michigan City's
harbor is concerned. It was on July 4, 1864, that a meeting was conducted in City Hall at
which a Michigan City Harbor Company was organized. "They then memorialized Congress
in dignified terms; they omitted to mention that the expenditure of the money from past
appropriations was barren of results, they did not complain that the harbor afforded no
shelter to the ships plying at this end of the lake, they drew no particular attention to
the patent facts that the piers were fallen into decay, that material purchased by the
government had been allowed to rot or to slip unused and unobserved into the water, they
restrained their impatience at seeing the work of one summer nullified by the pitiless
storms of the succeeding winter, but they did ask that the government permit them to take
over what remained of the original plans and construction already accomplished, and to
carry out as best they might, a plan of their own whereby they hoped to do something to
further the interests of the nation, of the state of Indiana, and of their own city."
In 1865 authority was granted to the local company to use government piers in the harbor
for the purpose of protecting the harbor. Under this authority, and power given by the
state legislature the same year, Michigan City Harbor Company began collecting money from
the stockholders - "and continued to do so until many of the stockholders were
nearly, if not entirely, bankrupt and impoverished." The funds were used to rebuild
foundations on the old government piers, and to make extensions into the lake to protect
the mouth of Trail Creek before dredging could be done. In two years, the company expended
$100,526.53. The city did its share, too-- building docks and dredging. City funds spent
totaled $20,767.85. And private parties had added to the improvements in the amount of
$63,000. When Congress began to show interest in aiding harbor projects again, the company
petitioned the Federal government to take over where the Michigan City Harbor Company had
left off. It asked that a sum equivalent to what stockholders had expended from their own
pockets be appropriated--not to repay the stockholders, but to fund further work on the
harbor project. That was when Congress provided $100,000 for work in the years 1868 and
1869. Oglesbee and Hale included a table in their 1908 book, listing Federal
appropriations for Michigan City's harbor from 1836 through 1905 totaling $1,588,268.92.
Then they observe, "It is between the lines of this table that one must look for the
sickening tale of congressional imbecility, of inadequate appropriations, costly delays,
waste of material and inattention to public interests. Wreck followed wreck. Ships,
cargoes, and human lives were sacrificed. The legislature memorialized, and Hannegan,
Cathcart, and others in Congress pleaded in vain for relief. Year after year passed by and
construction material rotted on the shore for lack of money to put it in place."
In spite of the wretched record of Congress, there was
significant development on the waterfront in Michigan City in those first 75 years after
the place was chosen as Indiana's lake port. Most of it was the result of action by
citizens as illustrated by the formation of the Michigan City Harbor Co. Hardy, optimistic
and determined citizens had worked to develop the harbor from the time in 1830 when its
potential first was proclaimed. Warehouses were constructed and do-it-yourself piers built
so that commerce might commence. As one history puts it, "The great attraction which
so rapidly turned the silent sandy shores of Lake Michigan into a hustling market was
trade." One of Michigan City's prominent early figures, Samuel Miller, who came here
in 1832, built the first warehouse. "He was a forwarder, taking grain, provisions and
produce from all the neighbors who had to sell, and obtaining his supply of goods (such as
salt) from vessels plying the lakes." Many more warehouses soon were constructed. In
1833, James Forrester brought a cargo of salt and other commodities from Buffalo to
Michigan City on the schooner Post Boy-- the first shipment of its kind. The businessmen
built piers from their warehouses to facilitate loading and unloading of cargo. Ships made
regular stops here. Michigan City became the leading grain market for all of Indiana north
of the Wabash - and there were even shipments from Indianapolis. Great caravans of wagons,
often drawn by three-or four-ox teams, passed constantly through Michigan City's streets.
"A man would have to reach the town of Michigan City early in the day to get his
grain unloaded before night," an account of the time states. As many as 300 teams
could often be counted in line moving up toward the warehouses. Grain was brought from as
far west as Joliet, and Rockford, Ill., to be ground into flour by the mills on Trail
Creek and to be shipped to other ports. In 1842, it was reported, more wheat, pork, and
lard was shipped from here than from Chicago. The mural by noted artist Robert Grafton on
the study hall at Elston Senior High School depicts lakefront activity at about this time.
Chicago interests were behind a scheme, reported in 1840, to minimize the use of Michigan
City's port (and also those of New Buffalo and St. Joseph in Michigan) and to list Chicago
as the loading point even when cargo was taken aboard vessels at Michigan City and other
ports. Chicago was listed as the loading point for lumber and flour, for instance, even
though it had none to ship. In the 1840s, the Oglesbee-Hale history of the town notes,
"There was now much barrel making in the city to supply not only the demand in
Chicago, but also that for home use, as beef and pork packing was an increasing industry,
while the annual catch of fish in the local waters was a noticeable factor in commerce. It
is reported that Lyman Blair's output of fish for one year was as high as $40,000,
probably one of the best records on the lakes." Some of the lake fish catch was sold
locally, but most was shipped to Chicago and other centers. Whitefish and sturgeon were
plentiful during that period. The railroad was beginning to supplant the lake vessels as a
carrier of commerce, and the warehouses on Michigan City's lakefront began to disappear to
be replaced by huge piles of lumber. One commodity that remained important in lake traffic
was salt. An 1894 publication referring to the Michigan Salt Co. warehouse here noted it
had a capacity of 25,000 barrels, and salt shipped to Michigan City by boat was
distributed from here to points in Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky and Western Ohio -
"something more than 150,000 barrels being handled annually here." But it was
lumber that became increasingly the principal item of Michigan City lakefront business in
the latter years of the 19th century. Some vessels for the carrying of lumber even were
launched in Michigan City - the schooners C.P. Williams, Frank Miller and Margaret Dall
among them. They were able to travel smaller streams, taking cargo where larger boats
could not go. In 1868, the era of sailing vessels reached its peak with 2,000 schooners
officially registered. Lumber, shingles and stone were brought to Michigan City, and ships
left with cargoes of hay, potatoes and huckleberries. Influenced by the advent of the
train, Michigan City's harbor had changed from a grain to a lumber port. Lumber yards came
into existence at the lakefront and along Trail Creek, as far as points beyond Sixth
Street. The lumber shipping season lasted from April until late October. Some yards hired
as many as 120 men for a season. Michigan City became the foremost lumber market of the
day. Its commercial tonnage reports were dominated by vessels bringing lumber from the
forests of Michigan and Wisconsin. By the 1890s, harbor docks were lined on both sides
with lumber. Mayor Martin T. Krueger, describing the scene in later years, said the lumber
"was piled as high as it could be done by the hands of man. Through it were many
lanes or alleys, along which lumber was hauled to and from the docks to the piles and
again from these piles to cars, to be shipped all over the Midwest." The fleet of
lumber vessels plying the lakes was widely known - the A.R. Colborn (named for one of the
local businessmen, who was known as "the lumber king of Indiana"); the O.E.
Parks, the Morris Gage, the Early Bird, the H.A. Root, the Horace A. Tuttle. The passenger
excursion business had developed after the harbor was opened. At the close of the century,
a commemorative publication-- Michigan City Illustrated--observed: "Michigan City is
especially fortunate in having a cheap and popular means of transportation to Chicago, and
this is by the double daily excursions run by the Chicago and Michigan City line, on the
new steel steamer America." And so, the 20th Century began. Michigan City was 64
years old and its lakefront legacy already was a colorful, eventful, dramatic--and in many
ways disappointing--story. That hard-to-quell optimism remained in evidence, as shown in
this quote from the 1900 Michigan City Illustrated publication: "Nowhere on the Great
Lakes is there a better harbor for safety and convenience. Situated at the extreme
southerly point of the great waterway, our harbor offers facilities for receiving and
dispatching that have been recognized by the most expert government engineers, and it must
soon be of greatest importance to shippers."
The Turn Toward Recreation
In the second 75 years of Michigan City's harbor history,
the tide turned dramatically in favor of recreational boating. Today, the navigable length
of the channel and the Washington Park Marina are berthing points throughout the summer
season for cruisers, sailboats and other pleasure craft. Save for the remaining commercial
fisheries, it is to the boaters that the waterfront-related shoreline businesses cater.
And it is to the further development of the harbor's recreational usage that planning in
1976 points. In mid-century, an article in The News-Dispatch noted, "The decline of
the harbor in relation to the industrial scene since 1900 must be viewed as a major
development in local history." Great strides had been made in the community's
industrial diversification in those 50 years and the harbor had not been a direct factor
in most of them, only indirectly as something that made Michigan City unique and a
pleasant place to live and play. "By 1925," the 1950 article pointed out,
"the lumber yards gone and no one at hand to fill in, harbor traffic had dwindled to
a mere shadow of its former self, and today the only commercial tonnage is that of
locally-owned fish tugs which find the lake's catches less each year. "During the
period from 1925 until the present, it has been an occasion of note when vessels of any
size visit the port. As the tonnage dwindled, so did government expenditures and interest
... Last big dredging of the harbor was done nearly 15 years ago. At a meeting of the
Congressional committee hearing on this improvement, several local men were present. Harry
Frey represented the Yacht Club, George Trask the Chamber of Commerce, William C. Haviland
the park board, and T.C. Mullen the zoo board. As a result of the hearing the harbor was
dredged and later the west part of the old breakwater was repaired." After that major
1935 dredging project and some lesser dredging in 1948 and 1949, there were continuing
efforts by citizens, government and the Chamber of Commerce to attract tonnage to the
channel and to interest the Federal government in improving it. But a letter from an Army
Corps of Engineers official in 1953, in response to a local request for dredging of the
harbor, tersely summarized the Federal position, "A review of the past record at
Michigan City reveals that dredging has been performed by the Federal Government on a
number of occasions based on local assurances of future water-borne shipments of grain,
coal, sand and gravel, package freight, passengers, etc., which only partially
materialized." Dredging of the channel could not be justified, he concluded. Repairs
to the piers in 1954, at a total cost of about $60,000, represented the only government
investment in that period. Again in 1955, the Army Corps of Engineers denied a request for
dredging. The Corps had been told that there were local plans for shipping of construction
aggregates for use in construction of the Indiana Toll Road - and for other use of the
harbor by city businesses and industries, if it were dredged. The Corps again seemed
skeptical. Maintenance dredging might be justified, it said, "following such
development." In 1956, after Cargill Inc. decided to build three huge grain elevators
here and promised shipment of about 125,000 tons of grain annually, the Corps agreed to
dredge the harbor as far as the Franklin Street bridge. The work continued in 1957. That
year, the Jupiter, first large commercial vessel to enter Michigan City's harbor in years,
picked up a cargo of 90,000 bushels of soybeans from the Cargill elevator. The Jupiter,
other ships and barges began a schedule of regular trips. There was some optimistic talk
at the time about new commercial life for the harbor. But realists recognized that after
125 years as Indiana's potential port, Michigan City now had been officially eliminated
from consideration. The St. Lawrence Seaway was open and plans were proceeding for
construction of a major Indiana deepwater port at Burns Harbor west of Michigan City. The
Corps did do additional dredging in 1958 to permit unloading of salt for use on highways
and the toll road. The first of several ships to bring salt, the Sumatra, unloaded 6,000
tons on Oct. 28, 1958. Vessels collecting grain and leaving salt were the last large
commercial ships to enter the Michigan City harbor. Pleasure boating had humble beginnings
in Michigan City. But by the 1930s, more and more cruisers and sailboats began to be seen
on the local lakefront. The yacht basin became a popular port of refuge for boaters.
Events such as the annual Columbia Yacht Race helped to popularize Michigan City as a
Great Lakes port of call. Extension of the East Pier in 1884 had created 40-acre yacht
basin. In a development that seems unbelievable today, the city began to fill in the basin
in the 1920s--virtually using it as a dump. Somebody had decided the basin area could
better be utilized at a future date, once all that water was gotten rid of, as a baseball
field or parking lot. Dad Heisman and E.G. (Babe) Browne, two of the city's earliest
pleasure boating enthusiasts, circulated petitions and called the development to the
attention of the Corps of Engineers. Finally, a desist order was issued--but the marina
today is only one-third the size of the original basin. The Michigan City Yacht Club was
organized in 1931. In following years, members helped bring about a dredging project and
participated in a community effort to clear the harbor and the basin area of debris.
Interest in boating increased steadily in the years after World War II, and a real boom
was in progress by the late 1950s. It was particularly untimely, then, that Lake Michigan
should choose that point to drop to its lowest level since 1933--creating what a
News-Dispatch series in February of 1959 called "a crisis of unprecedented
proportions for local tug and pleasure craft owners. "In fact," the article
continued, "the harbor channel southeastward from the New York Central Railroad
bridge looks more like a dirt lane after a rainstorm than the healthy, flowing waterway it
ought to be. The turning basin adjacent to the Blocksom Co., where lumber schooners once
maneuvered, is a vast mud flat. Other sandbars divide small puddles of water. Birds strut
in mid-harbor without getting a single feather wet." The low water posed problems for
150 boat owners, whose usual slips would not be available when spring came; for owners of
harborside boat businesses, and for fishing tug owners such as Fred (Butch) Ritter and
Louis Igielski, who faced daily dilemmas and frequent repair expenses. At this
transitional point in the harbor usage, and low point in its upstream depth, the Michigan
City Port Authority came into existence. State Rep. H.J. Kintzele Jr., working with local
boaters, introduced - and the House passed - an enabling bill on Feb. 24, 1959, which
would permit cities to develop and operate port facilities. Directors would have power to
plan, finance, promote, construct, and. manage all necessary port facilities, including
such things as docks, warehouses and service buildings. They would be empowered to ask
their city council for a cumulative channel maintenance fund, money for which could come
by taxation, to provide for municipal dredging operations and other maintenance and
improvement of local waterways. The bill was approved by the State Senate, and Gov. Harold
Handley signed it on March 14. A month later, the city council had enacted an ordinance
creating the port authority. Among its first members was Hartley Job, whose service on the
board continues up to today. His enthusiastic interest in Michigan City's harbor and
lakefront is on a level with the records of those citizens throughout Michigan City's
history. who have worked tirelessly for positive developments. Many have been named in
this history of the harbor. Another, also appointed to the port authority at its
inception, and who served as its first chairman, was the late Mark Moorman, who had come
to be known here as "Mr. Harbor." In its early life, the port authority was the
subject of some controversy. It engaged in a legal dispute with the parks and recreation
department to determine jurisdiction over the yacht basin and adjacent land. Some owners
of small boats feared the port authority was more concerned with commercial aspects of the
waterways. A 1960 article by News-Dispatch editor Elwin Greening succinctly summarizes the
story of the harbor during the first 60 years of this century--up to the time the port
authority was created: "By the mid-'20s, only a few hundred. tons of fish were all
that could be counted annually in harbor tonnage. Naturally, government interest in
maintenance dwindled proportionately. The harbor, in time, could well have become a
cat-tail swamp had it not been for the efforts of a few diehard visionaries. They cajoled,
worked on congressional sympathy, nursed what water activity they could--and managed to
keep government dredges coming in periodically. Twice in the late '20s, they coaxed
oceangoing ships to stop off with bulk cargoes. In the early '30s, they successfully
fought efforts to fill in the yacht basin to create parking space for visitors to
Washington Park. They organized the Michigan City Yacht Club a year later and fought a
proposal by the Federal governments to close the Coast Guard station here. Midway in the
same decade, they wangled a dredge to deepen the basin. The fight for recognition went on
through the wartime '40s. Then in 1948, lacking official voice, the small group formed the
unofficial Michigan City Harbor Improvement Assn. And, using what stature it gave them,
renewed their pounding at the door of the Army Engineers. How about re-examining the
harbor and modernizing it to accommodate small cargo vessels from 90 to 200 feet in
length? the group asked. With hope for state aid all but dead in the '50s, harbor
enthusiasts switched their strategy and sought to interest private capital in locating
here as a means of reawakening government interest in maintenance. Cargill's construction
of a grain elevator was the first result of this approach. With concrete evidence of
awakened harbor interest in hand, Mayor (Francis) Fedder and the city council deemed it
wise to organize the efforts and advice of the harbor enthusiasts within a city board,
unofficial or not. Consequently, in early 1958, the council created through resolution the
unofficial Michigan City Harbor Commission, . Legislation of the port authority type often
had been discussed through the years, but not until the Burns Ditch development
materialized (in 1959) did it crystallize. Then, realizing that they were fighting for
their lives, the harbor commission members--along with Chamber of Commerce
leaders--approached State Rep. Henry J. Kintzele with a request to introduce legislation
in the General Assembly. He did--and the enabling act was passed." In August of 1960,
a court judgement gave the port authority jurisdiction over the yacht basin and adjoining
land. Two months later, the port authority announced its plans for the basin--the first
project to be installation of piers with slips for about 200 boats. What was to be a major
recreational boating program in Michigan City had its birth. In 1961, at a hearing in
Indianapolis to determine the best site for Indiana's commercial harbor on Lake Michigan-a
designation given to Michigan City more than 130 years earlier-the Burns Harbor location
was picked. It had the endorsement of Michigan City's municipal government and civic
leaders. While some limited commercial traffic in the local channel still was hoped
for-enough, at least to justify Corps of Engineers dredging--the momentum locally was
toward recreational usage. That was demonstrated when a proposal by the Monon Railroad for
a $2 million coal dock facility on Michigan City's lakefront was made known. In an earlier
day, the project might have been heralded as a step toward commercial development on the
local waterfront. But in the 1960s, it was viewed as a threat to the park and beach and to
lakefront recreation. Community opposition was strong--and probably a major factor in the
decision by the Interstate Commerce Commission to deny the Monon proposal. The port
authority conducted a hearing on its master plan for pleasure boating June 4, 1962, and
G.E. McGrath, president of the Chamber of Commerce, hailed the plan as a "first step
to the North End's rehabilitation." The plan provided for pleasure boating facilities
in the Washington Park Marina, at an upstream marina between "E" and Scott
streets, and at points between on Trail Creek. At the same time, the port authority
initiated planning for dredging of the navigable length of the creek. A 2-cent cumulative
channel maintenance tax levy was approved for 1964--the first time, port authority member
Job observed, that local tax money had been invested in harbor upkeep since early in the
century. Money from the tax was used to provide the local government share of upstream
dredging projects. The port authority act later was amended to permit use of such funds
for other waterway improvements. The tax rate has varied from 2 cents to 6 cents in
succeeding years. Mayor Randall C. Miller was a strong advocate of the channel maintenance
fund and helped win close city council approval in the early stages. In December of 1964,
$425,000 in revenue bonds for the first stage of the marina development project were
purchased by a Chicago brokerage group. In February of 1976, a $1.2 million marina bond
issue was sold, to finance additional stages of the Washington Park marina project and
boating facilities at the upstream Sprague Marina and elsewhere on the Michigan City
waterway. In 1966, the Army Corps of Engineers undertook a two-year program to
rehabilitate protective facilities at Michigan City's harbor. (An Army Corps of Engineers
report issued Oct. 20, 1971, incidentally, stated that total expenditures by the United
States government up to June 30, 1970, in the Michigan City harbor were $4,995,000. The
Corps said these included $1,543,000 for new work, $2,407,000 for maintenance, and
$1,044,000 for rehabilitation.) In the years since the port authority began implementation
of its program for Trail Creek, investment by private enterprise in pleasure boating also
has grown dramatically--including a $250,000 project just east of the Franklin Street
bridge. The objective of the '60s and '70s - and for the years to come - was defined by
Louis Cotts, port authority chairman in 1964: "The port authority is dedicated to
limited commercial development. Our main course of action is to develop the harbor as a
pleasure boating facility - to make it one of the best." In 1965, Mayor Miller added
impetus to the new emphasis when he announced, after studying reports and recommendations
requested from several governmental agencies: "It is my present opinion that
ultimately our harbor will and should become entirely recreational in use." He
referred, in his comments, to an apparent major development - a federal willingness to
provide dredging based on recreational, as well as commercial, usage of waterways. The
U.S. government and Michigan City shared the costs of the 1967 upstream dredging project.
The mayor said existing commercial shipping businesses should continue as long as
economically feasible, "but a policy of restricting new uses to recreation should be
followed for the future." That is the course which has been followed in Michigan City
the past decade--one of heavy emphasis on the development of the harbor, Trail Creek,
and--of course--the yacht basin for recreational boating. Boats fill the berths in the
basin and Trail Creek. The summertime traffic is continuous. The Michigan City waterway is
alive with activity. It's an impressive sight - one that those departed citizens who
labored tirelessly on behalf of the community's harbor during the past century and a half
would, no doubt, find pleasing.
A Toll of Ships, Lives and Cargo
Temperamental Lake Michigan has taken a heavy toll of
ships, lives and cargo. Incidents in Hoosier waters have not been of Titantic proportions.
But there have been tragic, costly, dramatic, embarrassing, and even humorous nautical
mishaps. Most of them occurred during sudden surging storms - the type at which Lake
Michigan excels. Indian braves, venturing against enemies in fleets of canoes, were at the
mercy of such sudden tempests when they paddled too far from land. There's a legend that
the Wisconsin Winnebago, at war with the Foxes on the Michigan side of the lake, sent an
army of 500 braves to do battle. A storm struck, and all 500 perished. One lake tragedy in
which Pottawattomie Indians played an indirect part is documented. It concerned the
schooner Hercules, which sailed from Chicago, bound for Detroit, on the evening of Oct. 2,
1818. The next morning, one of the worst gales in Lake Michigan history struck. It raged
for two days. No word of the Hercules was received until Oct. 9 when a party of Indians
arrived in Chicago, carrying with them objects they had picked up along the shore at the
south end of the lake. Some of the objects were recognized as being from the Hercules. A
rescue party dispatched from Fort Dearborn in Chicago found the lake shore near what is
now Michigan City strewn with fragments of the ship. Only one body was found. The hull of
the vessel had vanished, although portions of the mast had blown ashore. Indians had
carried off every article of value which had washed ashore. The 1908 Oglesbee-Hale history
of Michigan City describes the earliest recorded shipwreck off the town of Michigan City:
"The memorable little schooner Post Boy, which for several years plied between
Michigan City and Detroit, was caught one evening in November, 1833, and failed to gather
headway in time to prevent disaster in a rising storm, for she was driven on the beach
toward midnight, near the mouth of the creek, and in spite of the efforts of a crowd of
excited citizens her cargo of salt and furniture, brought from Detroit, was damaged or
lost." Accounts of the early history of Michigan City make frequent references to
shipwrecks and lost lives. The Oglesbee-Hale history observes: "As the years grew,
the losses and fatalities increased in greater proportion than the government offered
means to prevent them." U.S. Sen. John Pettit of Indiana, speaking before Congress in
1854 in behalf of a bill to appropriate funds for a Michigan City harbor, said: "Last
fall, I visited Michigan City for the purpose of looking at it; and there, standing upon
the pier, as far as the eye can reach you can see wrecks on either beach, on the right and
on the left hand; because, in stress of storm, vessels have been driven into what is
called the bight of the southern end of the lake, where they have no refuge." Another
of Lake Michigan's severe storms occurred on Oct. 8, 1884. Sleet and a slashing wind swept
down the lake and hurled waves 10 to 20 feet high onto the beach and against the newly
constructed breakwaters. Early that morning, the A R. Colborn (named for a prominent
Michigan City lumber dealer) limped into the local harbor - its crew half frozen, their
clothes covered with ice. They reported having spotted the Early Bird, a Michigan
City-bound lumber schooner, tossing adrift eight miles out in the lake. Its rudder was
disabled, the cargo washing overboard and the masts broken off. One of the first persons
to hear the news was Capt. Alexander D. Campbell, whom local historians recall as
"one of Michigan City's most versatile and colorful characters." The good
captain quickly summoned his crew of seven and they rushed to the lakefront and their
vessel, the Pearl B. Campbell. A tremendous wave swept over the tug before it had even
reached the harbor mouth. Two crew members on deck were carried to the stern by the giant
wave's force, and would have gone overboard had they not grabbed the rail. Onward - into
the teeth of the storm - the tiny tug crept. Somehow, the Early Bird was located. A tug
crewman, John H. Lutz, described the ensuing drama: "We couldn't get too close for
fear of crashing into the schooner on account of the waves, but we pulled to lee'ard about
25 feet away and Barney O'Brien and Bob Siminaugh (the two who had nearly been washed
overboard) tossed lines to the crew. They caught them and were hauled through the water to
the tug." By this time, nearly half of Michigan City's 9,000 citizens had gathered on
the shore, awaiting what they hoped would be the tug's return. The clean, yellow sand of
famed Hoosier Slide was literally blackened with thousands of people. Rain-drenched local
residents, many weeping and praying, lined the harbor banks. Hundreds clambered atop
buildings and climbed smokestacks, anxiously hoping for the first view of the Pearl B.
Campbell. After several suspenseful hours, an excited call of "Here she comes!"
was emitted by those with the long-distance views. The tiny tug had been sighted cresting
a wave. A unified salute was shouted to cheer on the heroic crew members, all of whom
later were awarded gold medals for their bravery. Other crew members were George Schultz,
John Carrow, William Cavinaugh and J. Campbell (no relation to the captain). The Early
Bird drifted ashore near the present site of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, where
she broke into pieces. Three years and three weeks after the heroism of Capt. Campbell and
his crew, one of the "corniest" shipwrecks in all nautical history occurred in
Indiana waters. Involved was the Horace A. Tuttle, a steel-hulled ship of 15,585 tons, 250
feet long, with a 38-foot beam. The Tuttle, towing the schooner Aberdeen, bore a cargo of
77,000 bushels of corn. It left Chicago at 1 p.m. Monday, Oct. 26, 1888, bound for
Buffalo, N.Y. From there, the corn was to be shipped to Europe. At 11 that night, a sudden
gale blew from the northwest. The sea-weary Tuttle sprang a leak, but couldn't head back
for Chicago because the crew feared that in turning her they might be swamped by the
schooner. At midnight, though, the ship turned itself around and it became necessary to
cut loose the Aberdeen. The Tuttle then set course for Milwaukee. At 5 p.m. Wednesday, a
terrific wave struck the embattled ship, carrying away the hatches, deckhouse and a yawl
boat. The crew worked feverishly to keep additional water out of the hold by covering
hatchways with bedding, mattresses, quilts, sails, boards - everything but the galley
sink. Their efforts were futile. With six feet of water in the hold and his ship in danger
of sinking, the captain abandoned hope of reaching Milwaukee and made for Michigan City's
harbor. At 3:15 p.m. Wednesday, just as it reached the harbor entrance, the vessel
grounded, lost its rudder, the rudder pipe broke off, the steam pipes burst, and the stern
began pounding against the breakwater. When the steamer settled, she lay in a precarious
position--bow in harbor and stern against the end of the pier. She broke in half and
started to go to pieces. All on board, the ship's papers and some baggage were saved. But
the cargo of shelled corn - all 77,000 bushels - was washed by the still-raging storm onto
the beach and yacht basin shore to a depth of several feet. Michigan City residents and
area farmers made a mad rush to gather the storm-sown harvest. It required many years for
the remainder of the corn to be washed ashore. As late as 1905, an unpleasant odor from
the sour corn could be detected on the lakefront after severe storms. One of the saddest
Lake Michigan shipwrecks occurred Jan. 21, 1895, and involved the Chicora, once the
proudest excursion ship on the Great Lakes and a frequent visitor to Michigan City. The
Chicora could carry 1,200 passengers, but only 23 crewmen and one passenger - a prominent
St. Joseph druggist - were on board when she sailed from Milwaukee for St. Joseph early on
the morning of Jan. 21, 1895. The ship carried 800 tons of flour, which was to be
reshipped from St. Joseph by rail for eastern points. A weather forecaster at St. Joseph
told officials of the line which owned the Chicora that the barometer indicated a storm
brewing. They immediately sent a wire to the Chicora's captain at Milwaukee, telling him
to remain in port there. But the ship was just out of the dock when the messenger got
there with the wire. Persons along the Michigan shoreline reported seeing lights bobbing
on the stormy lake. Some said they heard the lonesome wail of a steam whistle. The lights
dimmed slowly, finally disappearing in clouds of swirling snow and sleet. The ship
apparently went down somewhere between Holland and South Haven. The exact reason for her
sinking remains a mystery to this day. All that ever was seen again of the Chicora were
bits of wreckage that washed ashore. Fate of those aboard was told in a note found in a
bottle that waves deposited on the beach: "All is lost...could see land if not snowed
and blowed ... engine give out ... drifting to shore in ice ... we have a hard time of it
... 10:15 o'clock ... Good Bye." Somewhere three or four miles off South Haven, in
probably 30 fathoms of water, lies the wreckage of the Chicora - a silent tomb for her 24
dead. Not so dramatic or tragic was the demise of the sandsucker Muskegon. Originally
built for the Chicago & Duluth Transport Co., and operated between Michigan City,
Chicago, and Lake Superior ports, it was christened the Fearless. It was the line's
flagship and finest passenger ship, but it ultimately was converted into a sandsucker and
renamed the Muskegon. No longer "Fearless," she caught fire while docked at
Michigan City and bubbled out of sight one autumn day in 1910. That same year a ship
figured in the unique experience of being part of a harbor wreck that was not a shipwreck.
Mayor Martin T. Krueger, after years of trying, had finally prodded the citizenry into
building a bridge across the harbor at Franklin Street. Such a bridge was an obvious first
step, so to speak, to Krueger's plan for a park on the lakefront. Ferries had transported
passengers across the harbor, but the $10,000 span fostered by Mayor Krueger was the first
regular bridge. It was a swing-type, single-leaf bridge that could be cranked open to let
big vessels puff upstream. In 1906, progress-conscious Krueger got the county to replace
the swing bridge with the first local lift-type span - a combination steel and timber
affair. The county's heart wasn't entirely in the project, however, and the bridge they
built showed it. There were numerous instances of difficulties in opening and closing it.
Things worked out fairly democratically, though. Boats had to wait nearly as often for the
structure to open as landlubbers did for it to close. On June 24,1910, the excursion
steamer United States apparently got fed up with the whole business and decided to take
matters in its own hands -- or, more correctly, stern. The United States was being shoved
by a tug toward its berth beneath the bridge. The span, having one of its erratic moments,
was not yet fully opened when the ship impatiently backed. into it, collapsing the whole
works. Twisting steel and splintering lumber fell into the channel and across the little
tug, submerging it up to its smokestack. The steamer was not badly damaged, however, and
by that afternoon set sail for Chicago. Irritated city officials, caught with their bridge
down and goaded on by chagrined county commissioners who had taken a dim view of the
birdge project in the first place, promptly filed a $30,000 suit against the boat company.
At the same time, they had the channel cleared of the hesitant bridge's rusty remains. For
the next few days, a gravel scow was converted into a ferry until a temporary pontoon
bridge was installed. In little more than a year, another lift bridge of steel and wood
crossed the harbor. On June 16, 1911, an obsolete little freighter, the City West, went
down in an unexplained manner during a spring gale that swept over Lake Michigan from the
southwest. The freighter had left Chicago for Michigan City on June 15. The 75-year-old
vessel was 88 feet long, 14 feet wide and had a draft of five or six feet. It actually was
fashioned like a canal boat. After the freighter and the nine aboard it had gone down, the
coroner of Porter County commented: "It's hard to visualize how small and
insignificant an 88-foot vessel can appear out in the middle of Lake Michigan beyond the
sight of land." The greatest tragedy in the history of the Great Lakes, in terms of
number of lives lost, was the overturning of the Eastland at her Clark Street dock in the
Chicago River on July 24, 1915. In 1914, the Eastland - known as the fastest steamer on
the Great Lakes - had been one of a number of excursion ships chartered by the local
Indiana Transportation Co. to assist its ships (the Theodore Roosevelt and the United
States) in transporting several thousand employees of Western Electric Co. and their
friends from Chicago to Michigan City for a gala picnic in Washington Park. The event was
a great success. The following year, on July 24, the same ships again were booked to carry
the Western Electric group to Michigan City - where decorations had been placed, and where
park rides and concessions were in readiness for the festive event. Eight hundred and
twelve persons drowned in the disaster, which apparently was caused by failure to fill the
water-ballast tanks before the capacity crowd of excursionists was taken aboard. When most
of those on deck ran to one side of the ship to look at an unusual ship approaching in the
Chicago River, the Eastland rolled over. Carter Manny of Michigan City, in his written
recollection of the incident, recalled that men later came over from Western Electric and
burned most of the decorations and favors which had been sent ahead of time to be used at
the picnic. "It was a cold, dreary rainy afternoon. The smoke left a pall over
town." Manny wrote that the disaster "marked the end of a summer lake excursion
business into our town, and the following demise of our very popular amusement park of
that period." Michigan City's worst nautical event took place in 1933. The day after
the community had been gifted with a white Christmas, the holiday atmosphere turned to
mourning as the result of a harbor accident that claimed the lives of four commercial
fishermen. About 6:30 a.m., when the four-year-old, 45-foot tug Martha set out for the
lake, there was a dead calm - not even enough wind to blow the snow off the pier. After
the boat was out in the lake a terrific blow - estimated at 60 miles an hour - developed.
Barometers had not indicated the approaching storm and it later was described as "a
freak blow." Capt. Walter Biddle operated the tug on shares and ran the business
independently of the Ludwig Fish Co., owner of the 45-foot gas launch. Other crew members
were Anthony Gaytka, William Kelmmeek and Walkter Markowski. Capt. David Furst, then in
charge of the Michigan City Coast Guard station, reported: "We first sighted the boat
about 11 o'clock when she was coming out of the northeast. She was about 300 to 400 feet
off the entrance of the harbor when she passed behind the lighthouse and was out of sight
for a minute. "I don't suppose the real cause of the accident will ever be known, but
it's probable that a breaker struck the starboard side and broached her sideways into the
sea. The next we saw of her she came around west of the lighthouse and swung right around
and started back again. The waves might have broken the rudder cable because it is likely
that the breaker ripped through the cabin and flooded the boat." More fortunate than
the crew of the Martha was that of the Dad Ludwig, another fish tug caught in the sudden
storm. Capt. Henry Newberry, at the helm of the Ludwig, reported that his vessel and the
Martha were struck by a high wind which soon became a gale. Hampered by blinding snow,
crews of both boats turned about and started for home. The Martha apparently took the lead
and reached the harbor entrance first, because when the Dad Ludwig came into port at noon,
the crew had no knowledge of the disaster that had preceded them. Ludwig and Capt. Furst
watched the plight of the doomed tug through binoculars. She was proceeding in normal
fashion and all appeared well aboard her as she entered the harbor and the two men scanned
her decks. "Then she went behind the lighthouse and was lost to our view. A moment
later the prow of the boat appeared on the west side of the lighthouse and was immediately
struck by a breaker. She 'broached' then in the heavy cross-current from the west and
passed out of our view behind the lighthouse again and that was all we could see until the
waves started throwing up the wreckage. The Coast Guard immediately went to the scene with
a boat and life preservers, but it was too late. Reports from the lighthouse attendant,
Capt. Walter Donovan, and his assistant, Thomas Martin, were that they had caught a
glimpse of three men clinging to pieces of wreckage for a brief instant. A fourth had been
seen to grab for a projecting piece of rock on the pier and hanging on for a moment - only
to slip back. The wreckage broke up rapidly under the impact of the heavy rollers. The
Martha's pilot house was thrown into the shadows west of the breakwater, while the main
superstructure was cast to the east of the harbor entrance and broken up by the pounding
waves. The Coast Guard rescue returned with only a steering wheel of the doomed craft to
show for their efforts. It had been snapped off and washed shoreward. An editorial in the
Evening Dispatch of Dec. 27 commented: "A harbor made shallow by sewage, refuse and a
thick layer of silt, and a heavy sea ... No one person is to blame; it is the fault of all
who have allowed the harbor to fill up and make its entrance dangerous ... Let's do
something about it! Clean out the harbor channel for one thing!"
140 Years of Boater Protection
Harbor lights have shone for Lake Michigan skippers almost
from the time the town of Michigan City was chartered in 1836. At first, there a simply a
lantern atop a post at the water's edge. In the 140 Years since, protection for boaters
has come a long way. Today, it includes a foghorn which, under ideal conditions, can be
heard at least 18 miles out in the lake; a light which can be seen more than 15 miles
away, and a highly capable Coast Guard unit. The need for a lighthouse was fundamental in
the planning for the community on Trail Creek. On June 14,1835, Isaac and Maria Elston
deeded to the U.S. government a strip of land from the lake to the bend of Trail Creek as
the site for a light. A 40-foot high tower housing a lantern was the next step in
progression toward the first full-fledged lighthouse-- built in 1858 and preserved today
by the Michigan City Historical Society as a museum. The first keeper of the light
appointed here was Edmund E. Harrison at the end of 1837. He was succeeded by two sisters
Mrs. Harriet C. Towner and Abigail Coit. The first keeper of the light when the 1858
lighthouse was put into use was John M. Clarkson. In 1861, he was replaced by Harriet E.
Colfax who was to become a local legend in her own time during a 43-year service. Miss
Colfax was the first cousin of Schuyler Colfax, vice president of the United States under
Ulysses S. Grant. Disappointed in love, so the story is told, she left her New York home
and came to Michigan City in 1853. Her brother, Richard, was editor of the Michigan City
Transcript. She learned to set type and helped her brother get out the paper. After his
death, she gave music lessons. She formed a close friendship with Ann Hartwell, a school
teacher who also was from New York. In 1861, Miss Colfax was put in charge of the
lighthouse. Miss Hartwell was her assistant. There was no bridge across the harbor at the
time, so whenever the women wanted to go into town they had to cross by boat. Lard oil was
used as fuel for the light and Miss Colfax kept it glowing. In heavy fogs, she had to man
a hand-cranked whistle to warn approaching vessels. On Nov. 20,1871, the government
installed the first beacon light at the end of the east pier, on the present lighthouse
site. Miss Colfax had to light the lamp each night - no easy task in stormy weather and in
wintertime. In 1880, the old lard oil lanterns were replaced with more modern lamps using
mineral oil for fuel. Miss Colfax maintained meticulous records--each day carefully
listing every boat that docked here, lake mishaps, and other items. She established a
reputation for efficiency, appreciated by Lake Michigan mariners, and reluctantly accepted
retirement in 1904, at age 80. The original lighthouse building was being remodeled at
that time, and an improved fog signal installed. The lantern was moved from the lighthouse
dwelling to the tower above the fog signal on the pier, where it is located today. T.J.
Armstrong became the lighthouse keeper, succeeded by Phillip Sheridan in 1918 and Walter
Donovan in 1930. In 1939, the U.S. Coast Guard took over. Electricity came into use at the
harbor light in 1933. That's also the year automation came to the foghorn. Today's
lighthouse contains the foghorn equipment as well as the light beacon. The sound of the
foghorn perhaps would head a list of sounds uniquely familiar to local residents. The
horn, once activated by the Coast Guard, blows for a two-second interval and is silent
exactly 18 seconds. The 300-candlepower light (with a 5,000 watt bulb ) is regulated to be
on one second, off one second. In case of accident, there is a lantern standin. Lights on
the west pier and breakwater receive their power from batteries and operate on a
"sun-dial" principle. That is, they are constructed so that they are shining
anytime the sun isn't. The lighthouse beacon is about two feet high and vaguely resembles
a large Chinese Ian tern in appearance. The side away from the lake is shielded by a
copper "door " to prevent rays from shining inland. On the lake side of the
copper is a reflector. In fact, the entire light is a series of intricately and
strategically placed reflectors and varying types of glass--all designed to produce the
desired sharp, long-distance beam. The historic old Lighthouse building was declared
government surplus and was sold to the city with the understanding that it be used for
historical purposes for 20 years. In 1965, the Michigan City Historical Society entered
into a lease agreement to restore the lighthouse and establish a museum. Michigan City
Historian Edna Kitchell was a leader in the effort to preserve the landmark structure.
Pennies from school children and more sizeable gifts and grants from individuals and
foundations made possible the restoration project. Preceding the establishment of a U.S.
Coast Guard station here, there was a "life-saving station," a seasonal
operation with a captain and eight-man crew. Besides being prepared to man the lifeboat,
the crewmen walked the beach nightly on a patrol two miles both directions from the
station. The patrol period was 6 P.M. to 8 a.m. G.C. Calvert, local Historical Society
member who has extensively researched community history, commented: "When called
upon, the crews of these early stations rowed through pounding surf and roaring gale
repeatedly in fantastic rescues, and many people owe their lives to the intrepedty
(s.i.c.) of these early lifesavers." Until 1875, when the Life-Saving Service built a
sation here, mariners had been very much on their own in times of trouble. Capt. Henry
Finch was the first to command the local station. Today, the U.S. Coast Guard is on the
job in Michigan City - maintaining the powerful beacon and foghorn and the other harbor
lights, and providing service and protection for sailors in this area. The proud tradition
of the Coast Guard affords comforting confidence to those who today sail in or near the
Michigan City water- ways.
A Shoreline Preserved
[To The Top]
A History of Washington Park
"Nothing contributes so much to the pleasure of people
who dwell in cities as large and carefully kept parks. In Washington Park, Michigan City
has reason to be proud. Situated upon the lakeshore, under spreading trees, upon the white
sand, thousands of men, women and children drink in renewed health and inspiration during
the summer months." (Michigan City Illustrated, 1910).
The Washington Park shoreline, Michigan City's most
precious acreage and priceless legacy, was acquired 85 years ago for $7,500. The idea of
establishing a community park on the lakefront began in 1883 in the mind of Martin T.
Krueger, who then was city clerk, during a visit by him to Chicago's Lincoln Park. Eight
years later - and after considerable lobbying, promoting, persuading and arm-twisting on
his part, Krueger, by that time mayor, saw the dream become reality. (A more complete
accounting of Krueger's role in preserving the lakefront will be found in a chapter about
him in another publication in this series - People From Our Past.) Thirty-one years later,
Krueger was to recall, "A curious freak of human nature is the circumstances that
people seldom want or provide for a public park when they can get one, in the best
location and for the least money. They usually wait until the most desirable lands for
that purpose have been denuded of their natural beauty or converted to other uses before
they realize what they have lost. And this situation the people of Michigan City escaped
by a very narrow margin, when they secured about one hundred acres of land for a song,
which in a very few years would have been absolutely beyond their reach." Speaking to
fellow Rotarians in 1922, Krueger commented: "I wish all of you might have seen the
piece of land on which the present park on the lake shore is now situated, about 30 or 40
years ago. First it was only a sand desert; one great drift of white shifting sand."
Then, when the harbor was extended to where the railroad bridge now crosses, great lumber
yards covered the sand. But as the harbor was extended eastward, the lumber businesses
also moved. Remnants and debris were left behind, and dissolute squatters moved into the
area, built a kind of shantytown of makeshift shacks, and created what Krueger called a
"no-man's land." A wooden bridge that had crossed the creek at the approximate
location of the present Franklin Street span in the 1880s had been removed because it
interfered with harbor shipping. So the area now Washington Park was isolated from the
town. People in Michigan City knew, or cared, little about the slum conditions there. Few
of them shared Krueger's vision of what could be there. As he tried to sell his proposal
for a new bridge, he found many citizens opposed. He quoted what one prominent lady told
him: "I have lived in this city over 30 years and have never yet been on the shore of
Lake Michigan and I have not missed anything." But the bridge was built, the
necessary legislative action secured, and the shoreline land purchased. Krueger appointed
the city's first park board: John G. Mott, Charles Porter and William Shoeneman. Land was
graded from the harbor east to about where the road adjacent to the tennis courts is
today. Citizens brought tree saplings and plants. Two industrialists made notable
contributions. John Winterbotham donated the monument at the entrance to the park -
dedicated to those who fought in the Civil War to preserve the Union. John Barker once had
offered to pay off the city's debts if attorney Krueger would acquire the shoreline land
as an industrial site - perhaps for a steel mill. But when Krueger rejected the idea,
Barker supported the park plan. He paid for construction of a bandstand and a picnic
peristyle. The peristyle, long a park landmark, was used for exhibiting pictures and
paintings as well as for picnics and for refuge from rain by persons attending band
concerts. It was copied after a Columbian Exposition building. A Michigan City cigar
manufacturer, John Felten, named one of his leading sellers "The Peristyle." The
building was rebuilt in 1924 and again rehabilitated in 1931 by Barker's daughter, Mrs.
Catherine Barker Hickox. It was demolished in 1972. A 1950 News-Dispatch article stated:
"Washington Park today is a far cry from what it was in Krueger's day and probably
surpasses his early dreams ... The shoreline, both in and out of the yacht basin, was
littered with debris. The sandy beaches were almost entirely covered with trash washed
ashore. What sand was uncovered blew helter-skelter, unchecked by walls or sand fences.
But the park proper was grassy, shaded and pleasant and the site of many picnics and band
concerts." The first amusement area in the park was constructed during the second
half of the 1900 decade. It included a theater, bathhouse, merry-go-round, roller coaster,
and other rides and concessions. Soon after, a dance pavilion was built about where the
Naval Armory is today. In 1922, the Oasis Ballroom was constructed - one of the finest in
the nation, one in which most of the name bands would play. Excursion ships made regular
runs to Michigan City from Chicago, bringing crowds to Washington Park. The park, the
state prison, and Hoosier Slide were the prime attractions for the visitors. The
steamships, along with special railroad excursions, brought steady streams of summertime
visitors to Michigan City. A local Historical Society publication records that in the
season of 1909, ships and trains alone brought 435,650 persons here. That era ended during
World War I. Fires wiped out major amusement area facilities. And the tragedy involving
the steamship Eastland--which tipped over in the Chicago River as it was about to sail for
Michigan City in 1915, drowning 812 persons--had an understandably negative impact on the
popularity of the excursion ship business. In future years, some ships - the Theodore
Roosevelt, the United States, the North America, and (as recently as the early 1950s) the
City of Grand Rapids - made Michigan City a port of call and the excursion business
enjoyed a revival in popularity particularly in the late 1920s and 1930s. Michigan City's
first zoo was established in 1927, across Lake Shore Drive from today's zoo site, to which
it moved a year later. The impetus for today's park and zoo came with the creation of the
Washington Park Zoo Board in 1928, and restoration of the park board as a nonpolitical
unit in 1931. The 1950 newspaper story comments: "An energetic community spirit was
developed as men volunteered their services and literally begged, borrowed or stole needed
materials and supplies to improve the park. That spirit carried on for 15 years until the
war dampened it and in those years the park more than tripled in size and its value soared
past the $2 million mark. In those years, local citizens and firms donated more than
$350,000 in materials." Krueger's original park board had been a nonpolitical group.
In the late 1890s this was replaced with a political system, with members paid $25 a
month. That arrangement lasted until the early '20s when the board of works assumed
control of parks. In 1931--spurred by the example of the zoo board and other civic-minded
citizens - local government leaders revived the non-political park board system. The idea
for the zoo was born in the minds of three men - Albert R. Couden, Max Gloye and Wesley R.
Kibby - in 1927. The zoo at first was under the park department. But Couden, who was city
manager, in 1928 appointed the first zoo board - a non-political group of men who
volunteered time, money and effort to work for the zoo (and also developed a tradition of
friendly horseplay at their irregular meetings and annual cruises aboard a fish tug.) The
hillside dune setting into which the zoo moved in 1928 was described by the director of
Chicago's Lincoln Park Zoo as "a million dollar location." The first deer barns
in 1929 were frame shacks with the area enclosed by chicken wire. The animal and pheasant
houses were the first substantial buildings and were financed by citizen subscription,
with labor and materials donated. In 1931, bear dens were constructed, cement walks put
in, and rock gardens built on the burr-covered sand dunes. From the start, citizens and
business firms readily took on the responsibility of providing food for zoo animals and
birds. The News-Dispatch 1950 story goes on: "While the nation was steeped in the
economic chaos of the depression, the park and zoo boards capitalized on federal relief
agencies - the Civil Works Administration, then the Federal Emergency Relief
Administration, and finally the Works Progress Administration. Washington Park and the zoo
benefited to the tune of $600,000, most of it in payrolls which stayed in Michigan City
and helped keep merchants in business. By using first workers sent from the township
trustee and later those supplied by federal agencies, the park was rapidly developed. As
many as 2,000 otherwise unemployed men worked in the park at the depression's height.
"But the spirited promoters of the park didn't rely altogether on Franklin
Roosevelt's economic pump-priming. They scrounged materials at cost or free everywhere.
They utilized what they had, found ways of getting what they didn't." When the roller
coaster was pulled down in 1935, its lumber went into picnic benches and shelters. From
1929 to 1934, the park really began growing with addition of a rock garden area,
administration building, tennis courts, shelter house, new lawns, parking space, the
observation tower, the shore drive and other improvements. The picnic area behind the
Oasis was planted with trees in 1934 and 1935. On Arbor Day in 1934, more than 5,000
school children planted twice that many trees, donated by LaPorte and Michigan City
leaders. The year 1936 was one of the most eventful for the park. The city built the Yacht
Club, leasing it to the members. WPA funds that year totaled more than $200,000., The
popular observation tower, which was to become a Michigan City landmark and logo, was near
completion. Its cost was estimated at nearly $30,000. Also in 1936, the city purchased
from the Monon Railroad the land where the old dance pavilion had stood. This was promptly
given to the state as a site for the armory, built shortly afterward. There were many zoo
improvements in 1936 also. It was the best year for donations. The estimated value of
materials given was $42,000. Included were 6,000 trees, 5,000 truckloads of dirt, 1,760 of
broken stone and granite, 4,000 of cinders, and 1,500 of broken concrete. The development
of the formerly barren east end of the park to Sheridan Beach was near completion. In
1937, new docks were constructed at the West end of the park and that area re-landscaped.
The basin was cleaned and dredged and much of the sludge from its bottom used for fill of
low areas near Sheridan Beach. During 1939 and 1940, concrete molds were put to use in
quantity. Some 20,000 square yards of roadway were resurfaced. More than 1,000 concrete
posts to rim the outer drive, Lake Shore Drive and to mark parking lanes in the big lots
were poured. Some 400 concrete picnic tables and 700 benches were placed in the park in
1940 and 1941. Like the park, the zoo owed much to the federal relief agencies of the
'30s. Through WPA and its two predecessors, materials and labor for many buildings were
furnished at no local-tax cost. In 1932, grading of a dune was begun to permit
construction of what was to be one of the zoo's perennially most popular attractions
Monkey Island. After 37 years, the zoo board went out of existence in 1965. A Zoological
Society was established as the official arm of the park board for the continued promotion
of the zoo. Officers of the society, park board members, and the zoo director noted that
facilities constructed by the WPA were showingtheir age--that the zoo had many problems
which required attention if it was to be preserved. An admission charge was instituted at
the zoo to provide some revenue. A 1968 fund drive was conducted - construction of an
elephant house its first objective. Mayor Conrad S. Kominiarek noted the zoo had been
started and developed through community participation and said it could be revitalized
with the same spirit. In 1975, the city applied for federal grant, part of the money to be
used for zoo improvements. Approval of the grant was announced early in 1976. The project
is to include construction of a new feline house, remodeling and expansion of the primate
house, restoration work at the observation tower, and other improvements. In 1956, the
parks and recreation board was put under the 1955 Parks and Recreation Act - providing it
with a degree of autonomy, although its budgets are subject to city council review. Make-
up of the board is bipartisan, and the board has authority to select qualified
administrators for the city's parks and recreation department. Another amusement park era
came to an end in 1962. A court ruling, resulting from a suit filed by former city
councilman Roger Mckee, stated the park board could not lease public grounds for private
enterprise. Even before the ruling, officials of Lake View Amusement Co. announced they
would remove rides and facilities from the park. Such longtime landmarks as the Oasis
Ballroom and the bathhouse were razed. There was a limited midway in operation that year.
And, following 1963 state legislation, a new operation - Washington Park Amusement Co.-
was given a 20-year lease in 1965. But the company and the park board became involved in
disagreements that led to litigations. The amusement park did not open in 1972, and it
appeared quite probable that there might never be another midway of rides, games and
concessions in the Michigan City lakefront park. Plans for the park's development, some of
them several years in the making, awaited decisions in 1976. A new bandshell, revised road
routings, and other projects were among the proposals. Whatever the determinations, the
shoreline park with its beach, zoo and other facilities remains Michigan City's showcase-
the proud front yard which sets it apart from thousands of communities comparably-sized or
larger.
The Revival in the Lake
[To The Top]
How Sport Fishing Came Back
Profanity was not unknown as Lake Michigan shoreline
residents and visitors reacted in 1967 to the nauseating stench from millions of dead
alewives. But a four letter word few of them used - or even knew - was about to liven the
lake lexicon and brighten its future: Coho! The alewife was the second of two Atlantic
Ocean infiltrators which caused problems in the Great Lakes. The first was the parasitic
sea lamprey, which had been the prime villain in the elimination of once-abundant Lake
Michigan trout, and near elimination of whitefish. The trout and whitefish were natural
predators which kept the populations of smaller fish in check. With the predators gone,
smaller fish flourished. Alewives, ignored by lampreys because of their size, enjoyed a
population explosion after the lampreys wiped out their natural enemies in the 1950s.
Alewives comprised 17 percent of the Lake Michigan fish population in 1962. By 1967,the
figure was 90 per cent - an estimated 175 billion alewives then in the lake. That's when
the big die-off and subsequent stench occurred. The exact reason for the die-off is not
known. It was blamed on everything from lightning to old age to overactive thyroid glands.
Other explanations included sudden change in water temperature, lake pollution, lack of
oxygen, starvation and overpopulation. Whatever the reason, the shoreline suddenly was a
stinking mess, covered with millions of alewives. The obnoxious odor was too much even for
those scavengers of the lake shores, the seagulls, who temporarily sought more pleasant
1ocales. Officials reacted to the outcries of residents and visitors. Congressmen called
for studies, at Michigan City a crew of 108 Job Corpsmen established headquarters for a
four-day shore cleanup, and the mayor even suggested the use of a flamethrower to cope
with the alewife beach assault. But the alewife, easily public enemy number one to
inhabitants of Lake Michigan communities, was to be a prime participant in a dramatic
project to revive the lake as a sport fishery. That's where the coho came in. Researchers
had found a lamprey-killing chemical in time to save the trout in Lake Superior. Before
embarking on a trout-restocking program in Lake Michigan, fisheries officials logically
decided to bring the lampreys under control. The only problem ensuing from that decision
was that it gave alewives more predator-free time to feed, breed and multiply. Even before
the alewife die-off occurred, visionary Michigan fisheries people had flown a million coho
salmon eggs from Oregon to Michigan hatcheries to try what no one had yet done: establish
a large-scale salmon fishery entirely in fresh water. A calculated gamble, it was the
product of a studied search for the sport species most likely to achieve Lake Michigan's
maximum potential for recreational fishing. Coho are short-lived but fast-growing, sporty
and tasty. And they feed voraciously on alewives. The million Oregon eggs produced about
900,000 fry, which became-850,000 ready-to-migrate one-ounce smolts after 10 months of
tender, loving hatchery care. In 1966 Michigan released 658,760 of these smolts in Lake
Michigan's Platte and Manistee river systems. By then, hatcheries already held a second
crop of 1,700,000 coho and 600,000 chinook (or king) salmon, to be planted early in 1967.
Planned for 1968 were even larger stockings if the imaginative venture succeeded. Succeed
it did - beyond wildest dreams. In Lake Michigan, the salmon found a safe, comfortable,
food-rich environment. When the coho returned to spawn and die in autumn of 1967, the
average size exceeded 10 pounds. Gorging on alewives, many had grown in the 16 months from
one ounce to 15 or 20 pounds. Stocking continued. By 1968, it was evident that salmon
would thrive in Lake Michigan and would be self-sustaining. A climate of excitement and
hope generated ideas and innovations and action all around the lake. Indiana's Department
of Natural Resources assigned a salmon specialist to a new office here, purchased a
research vessel for aquatic studies, and funded a million-dollar cold-water hatchery at
Kingsbury to establish spawning runs in Hoosier waters. The first Indiana-stocked coho
salmon returned to Trail Creek to spawn in 1971. Additional stockings of coho, chinook,
steelhead, lake trout and brown trout have been made. Dale Burgess of Associated Press
took a look in 1971 and concluded: "This salmon-trout explosion is the most exciting
thing that has happened to northwestern Indiana sportsmen since the Pottawattomie Indians
were dragged away from their hunting and fishing grounds in 1838." Michigan City,
alert to the potential, began calling itself, "The Coho Capital of the Midwest".
Annual seminars for writers, broadcasters, sportsmen and lake-fishing experts have been
conducted here since 1969. Charter boats and other facilities and services are available
to the annual invasion of sport fishermen. The exciting revival of sport fishing in the
lake coincided happily with the emergence of pleasure boating and the decision that
Michigan City's future as a port and waterway should be recreation-oriented. With further
cleanup and beautification of Trail Creek, with additional facilities for boaters and
fishermen, and with determination to abate lake pollution, the outlook for Michigan City
as a Great Lake community appears brighter than ever.
A Postscript
Michigan City's Lakefront Legacy obviously cannot be fully
explored within the limitations of a single publication. It would require volumes. The
legacy involves many more past and present citizens than those named in these pages. It
extends beyond the area bounded by the harbor and the eastern end of Washington Park - the
area primarily covered in the foregoing articles. It is the story, too, of Michigan City
land west of the harbor: the land where Hoosier Slide, once Indiana's most famous
landmark, was removed for sale in the 1920s ... where the 52-acre West Beach with its Mt.
Baldy dune, purchased by Michigan City in 1961 and now within the boundaries of the Dunes
National Lakeshore, has been reduced by erosion to about 30 acres ... the story of the
long fight by conservationists to win establishment of the Lakeshore - and the dramatic,
exciting implications that park has for Michigan City's future ... and of the development
of the Bethlehem and Midwest steel mills and the Port of Indiana, with their current and
potential impact on the local economy. It is the story of the establishment in the second
and third decades of this century of Sheridan Beach and the suburban lakeshore communities
- Long Beach, Beverly Shores, Duneland Beach, Michiana Shores, and Michiana ... the story
of the fluctuating level of Lake Michigan over the years, and man's efforts to find ways
to combat shore erosion ... of the storms which have taken their tolls of lakeside land
and property ... the story of the determined persons who tried to swim from Chicago to
Michigan City, the many who failed, and the father and son who made it ... the story of
vessels not mentioned, or passingly referred to, in these pages - from tugs and speedboats
and sailboats to the Navy escort vessel USS Havre and some of the salt ships which found
the local channel tough going in the 1960s... the story of the bridges that have been
built across Trail Creek; their ups and downs... the story of the nearby port town of New
Buffalo... of Warren Dunes State Park and of Indiana Dunes State Park. A full history of
the Coast Guard service and the many rescues in which its personnel have participated
would have been appropriate ... so would detailed stories of the Michigan City Yacht Club
... the Power Squadron ... the Sea Scouts... the Columbia Yacht Race and other lake races
in which Michigan City has been a port. More could be written about Washington Park and
zoo and beach - the bands that played the Oasis Ballroom ... the animals that have
inhabited the zoo, and the people, and organizations whose support made it possible ...
there would be nostalgic appeal for many in a descriptive account of a day in the park
when the midway was in its heyday ... or of the beach on a hot day before air
conditioning. And pages could have been devoted to the ecological problems of Lake
Michigan - of what has been done, and what has not been done, to resolve them. The story
of the first 150 years of the Michigan City lakefront shows that nothing is certain. Early
optimism about a great commercial port at Michigan City proved frustratingly misplaced.
Through the years, the channel and the lakeshore have undergone dramatic changes-- most
for the better, some for the worse. So to hazard a prediction in 1976 about the future is
a risky proposition. Conceding that, it seems probable that when someone writes the story
of "the third 75 years" midway in the 21st Century, the story of the turn to
recreational emphasis will be found to have only had its beginnings in the 1960s and
1970s. The growth in pleasure boating in these two decades (and Michigan City's action to
accommodate it), the preservation of bordering duneland and beach as a national park, and
the revival of sport fishing in Lake Michigan quite likely will be seen as milestone
occurrences which added measurably, in our time, to the positive perpetuation of Michigan
City's priceless Lakefront Legacy!
LAKEFRONT LEGACY was written by Bob Kaser in
collaboration with Henry Lange. Principal sources of information included the files of The
News-Dispatch, The History of Michigan City, by Rollo B. Oglesbee and Albert Hale; History
of LaPorte County, Indiana, by Jasper Packard; Michigan City's First Hundred Years, by
Elizabeth M. Munger; The Cruise of the Zoo Board, 10th anniversary souvenir booklet of the
Washington Park Zoo Board, and Miracle of the Fishes, by Al Spiers, an article in the Fall
1972 edition of Saturday Evening Post.
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