Concords of the Upper Midwest (or a concord with my brother)
Each extended Concord trip has a subplot. The subplot for the first cross-country journey was “or how we delivered Heather’s car.” The Oho trip was memorable because my son, Tom, tagged along. The stop in Concord California doubled as a family Christmas vacation. These subplots tie the disparate stories together.
I had been planning the journey through the Upper Midwest for about six months. Concord Wisconsin’s Town Picnic on August 11 was a firm date around which I could plot out a circuit through a series of promising destinations. Between Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois, and Indiana, there are 12 towns, counties, or townships named Concord.
Early in the summer, I was chatting with my brother about the challenge of hitting all these places in one trip. The amount of driving would be daunting, and the logistics of where to stay and who to meet was proving difficult. But everything suddenly came into focus when Bill said he’d like to join me. With the driving shared and the costs cut in half, obstacles melted away, and the subplot emerged: this trip was going to be about family: dead and alive, distant and close.
Each extended Concord trip has a subplot. The subplot for the first cross-country journey was “or how we delivered Heather’s car.” The Oho trip was memorable because my son, Tom, tagged along. The stop in Concord California doubled as a family Christmas vacation. These subplots tie the disparate stories together.
I had been planning the journey through the Upper Midwest for about six months. Concord Wisconsin’s Town Picnic on August 11 was a firm date around which I could plot out a circuit through a series of promising destinations. Between Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois, and Indiana, there are 12 towns, counties, or townships named Concord.
Early in the summer, I was chatting with my brother about the challenge of hitting all these places in one trip. The amount of driving would be daunting, and the logistics of where to stay and who to meet was proving difficult. But everything suddenly came into focus when Bill said he’d like to join me. With the driving shared and the costs cut in half, obstacles melted away, and the subplot emerged: this trip was going to be about family: dead and alive, distant and close.
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Like all of the Midwest towns we’ve visited, there is a rail line through Concord, Michigan, and like many others, this line is now defunct. The old grist mill dominates the approach to the village. We drove slowly through the town and found the Mann House. Laurie Perkins greeted us at the back door. “Your trip has everyone in these parts abuzz!” |
Laurie Perkins is the best docent I’ve ever met. Her many years of experience delving into all aspects of local and national history leave her armed with not only a vast knowledge, but more importantly, a finely tuned sense for the stories and artifacts that appeal to a casual visitor. The Mann House is a place without pretense. Built in 1883, shortly after the town's incorporation, the home reflects the prosperity of a well-educated, successful family. The Manns installed the town’s first phone in 1900 and added electricity and plumbing around 1910. When Jessie Ellen, the last of the two Mann sisters, died in 1969, she left the house and its contents to the Michigan Historical Center. It has been lovingly restored.
As the MHC’s website states, “Today the historic Mann House looks and feels as if Mary Ida and Jessie Ellen just stepped out for a moment.” Laurie describes life in the Mann house as a solid middle-class existence, but we found the story of these independent women who traveled unaccompanied to Europe, China, Japan, and the Philippines fascinating.
Photo courtesy of Ken Wyatt
Bill and I were met by a committee of townsfolk in the basement of the library. It had been through the efforts of Tammy, the local branch librarian, that we were honored with such a knowledgeable, welcoming committee.
Ken Wyatt, a semi-retired newspaperman, gave us a background of the early days of the town “The tribes led us all here. Their trails were made into roads; the iron horse followed that, and it’s come and gone.” The first settlers from the east came in the 1820s, but the town wasn’t incorporated until l1871. “This was called the malaria capital of the world.” It wasn’t until drainage ditches were dug that this area of Michigan could be developed.
In the 1880’s – 1920’s the economic activity grew in town. There were grist mills, saw mills, and a “buggy works” powered by the Kalamazoo River. The surrounding township of Concord had been a farming community, but folks came to town to worship, socialize, visit the shops and save what they could in the bank. Concord briefly made national news in 1917, when a gang of robbers terrorized the town. The ruffians cut the telegraph lines and sectioned off the city. They threatened to shoot anyone they met in the streets and to dynamite any house where the lights were on. Eventually, the gang blew up the bank vault and drove away with $18,200. They were never caught. The Farmers State Bank building still sits at the southeast corner of Main and Homer streets in Concord, but all that’s left of the banking business in Concord is a sole ATM.
The Welcoming Committee -Tammy, Kilbourn, Joan, Ken, Cathy, and Tammy.
The story of the 1917 bank robbery prompted Kilbourn to tell of two more heists. “My grandfather, Holstead, used to have a pharmacy in town, and he decided to open a mercantile bank. The first time the robbers came to the house in the middle of the night and held his great-grandmother hostage and forced her husband to open the safe.” Holstead bought himself a set of pistols so he’d be ready if they ever did it again. “He went and bought two six-shooters, and I still have one.” Well, Holstead’s wife didn’t like having guns around the house, so she hid them. When she was away visiting family, the robbers returned, held Holstead hostage, and forced him to open the safe again. Holstead was quoted in the local newspaper in the aftermath of the robbery, “If I could have found those pistols, I would have given those bank robbers what hell!”
The Great Depression forced many off the land, but the population of the town proper remained steady around 1000. Concord boomed during the post-WWII period. Back in the 1940s and ’50s, the Main Street shops were all bustling. There were additional bars, cafes, and shops located below street level. Not many of the stores exist today. Kilbourn concluded, “Everything you wanted you could get here in town. Now it’s not the case.” “I always try to shop at Bingham’s Hardware,” said Cathy. All nodded in agreement. “I like it here, but I can’t compare it to anything; I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
Our meeting wrapped up, and our Concordian hosts were delighted with our gift of “I came. I saw. I Concord.” tee shirts.
The Great Depression forced many off the land, but the population of the town proper remained steady around 1000. Concord boomed during the post-WWII period. Back in the 1940s and ’50s, the Main Street shops were all bustling. There were additional bars, cafes, and shops located below street level. Not many of the stores exist today. Kilbourn concluded, “Everything you wanted you could get here in town. Now it’s not the case.” “I always try to shop at Bingham’s Hardware,” said Cathy. All nodded in agreement. “I like it here, but I can’t compare it to anything; I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
Our meeting wrapped up, and our Concordian hosts were delighted with our gift of “I came. I saw. I Concord.” tee shirts.
Photo by Ken Wyatt
Ted and Joan took us to additional sites in town, including a handsome Universalist Church and another stately home - Hubbard Memorial Museum. By this time, we were getting hungry, so we had a quick lunch of slow-cooked brisket at Hot Rodz Smokehouse.
Photo by Ken Wyatt
We said goodbye to our hosts, but I wanted to take a walk around and get a final impression. I wandered around the town, summoned my courage, and started talking to strangers in Brigham Hardware, the one store that was open downtown.
Mitchel Brigham, (18) Best part? “Getting to know everyone really well.” How has it changed? “There have been many upgrades to the school.”
Phil Haynes “I lived in town as a kid. My sisters and I would walk downtown and spend a quarter and all be happy. Now there is nowhere for kids to go.” “Every business was full downtown. Now, it’s just big box stores. Now, it’s just a place for people to live, but they shop elsewhere.”
Brigham Hardware seemed to be the only remotely lively place on a lazy summer day, but the old mill had grabbed my attention on the way into town. Halfway between the downtown and the railroad, the grist mill, at first glance, looked deserted
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I took some pictures around the outside, but in the bright glare of the August sun, I couldn’t capture the looming grandeur of this relic of a time when the town was the processing and transportation hub of the area. I was just ready to head back to meet with Bill when a curtain moved. I stood there for a while – Joers Farm Center didn’t look like a place that was used to having visitors; I took a couple of more steps back up the hill before turning on my heels, taking a deep breath, and knocking on the door. There was no answer, so I tried the doorknob.
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David was in his office. Invoices, catalogs, posters, and all manner of paperwork filled the dimly lit space. David explained that the second desk was his mother’s, but she had passed away this year. I sensed that she had taken care of the filing. “I grew up here. My wife and I went to school together. It was good then. The government was different. I went to school, got married, and raised three kids.” “My dad bought this in ’53. I’ve been here since I graduated.”
David pulled out some old photos of the mill while it was in operation. What had been a massive grist mill grinding flour for locals and shipping it off by rail across the country had shrunk to a wholesale grain distribution company. Note the Concord Minuteman as the logo on the grain bag!
David pulled out some old photos of the mill while it was in operation. What had been a massive grist mill grinding flour for locals and shipping it off by rail across the country had shrunk to a wholesale grain distribution company. Note the Concord Minuteman as the logo on the grain bag!
David offered me a tour of the building. The floors were worn smooth from a hundred years of boots and feed bags. Outdated calendars and yellowing posters covered the walls. The machinery was largely intact, but the open spaces were mostly filled with plastic buckets and sacked of grain milled elsewhere.
I’m so glad I knocked on the door. I hope you enjoy my favorite portrait from my travels so far.
I was sorry that Bill had some work to do in the car and had missed the tour of Joers Farm Center. I tried to explain the scale and faded beauty, but we didn't have time to stop. We had another Concord to visit, and we were late. We headed south at bug-splat speed and soon left Michigan for Indiana.
I had heard several fondly told stories about how Concord, Michigan was “Mayberryesque” in the olden days. Times have been hard on small towns, and the village has changed, but I’m happy to report that Mayberry is doing just fine.
I had heard several fondly told stories about how Concord, Michigan was “Mayberryesque” in the olden days. Times have been hard on small towns, and the village has changed, but I’m happy to report that Mayberry is doing just fine.
