Wisconsin Journal

Number 12

4 December 1997



It's been interesting to me how many of the day and weekend trips

we've taken have ended up having a theme. The trip Kaye and I took

one Wednesday early in November ended up spotlighting the mining

history of Wisconsin. We headed southwest from Madison to visit

several towns in what is called the "Driftless Region", which refers

to areas that were not covered by glaciers in the last ice age.

The mineral deposits that exist in those areas are in the upper strata,

which no longer exist elsewhere, having been were largely scraped

away by glaciers further upstate. While the glaciers themselves

didn't reach the Driftless Region, it was certainly affected by

them. The runoff when they receded scoured out the river channels,

leaving interesting cliffs and rock columns. The rock formations that

Wisconsin Dells is known for were formed this way.



Our trip started in a small museum in Plattesville. The museum had

three parts---a small but good exhibit of horsedrawn vehicles and

farm implements, a mining exhibit and the Rollo Jamison collection,

which I gather is an eclectic assemblage of a single private collector.

Unfortuneately, that part of the museum is closed for the season, as

is a former mine that runs under the museum property and into the

next block. Maybe we'll get back with the kids in the spring.



We learned a lot in the mining museum. The first mineral mined in

the region was lead, which occurs in seams and crevisses near the

surface. There are reports dating back to 1690 that the French passing

through the area taught the Indians to smelt lead ore, which exists

predominately in the form of galena. With a hearth made of a few

stones piled up, and a wood fire, the Indians would heat the ore

and dig a channel for the molten lead to run to a bowl-shaped depression

in the ground. A crude lead ingots formed this way was called a

"plat" (meaning "flat") by the French, hence the name of the town.

The Indians made small figurines out of the metal, and also traded

the plats.



Mining began in earnest around 1840 in the area, and many of the

first permanent settlers in Wisconsin were lead miners. (The state

seal has a pickaxe on it to represent the early miners.) The US government

controlled the land, and wanted to encourage the extraction of the

lead. Thus, you could get a parcel of land to mine if you agreed to

actively work it, which required you dig six days a week, among other

things. The government valued the lead so much (for bullets and

pewter, I suppose) that it forbade agriculture on the land, except

for small, personal vegetable gardens. The lead ore is near the

surface in scrabbly rock, and most of the early mines were simply

hand-dug tunnels into a hillside. Many miners lived in their mines,

and were called "badgers", because they both dwell in burrows. (Might

have had something to do with the smell, too.) Hence "The Badger State"

and the UW mascot.



The lead mining industry started declining around 1860, but the slack

was taken up by zinc mining, with sphalerite being the main mineral

form in the area. The zinc ore deposits are in denser layers that

extend below the water table. Thus, where most of the lead was brought

out of the mines by hand-operated windlass, development of zinc mining

depended on the use of pumps and the arrival of Welsh hard-rock miners.

By 1890 steam and electric power was in use to raise ore from the

mines. Parts of the museum are in the former Plattesville Mining School,

established in 1907 to serve the zinc-mining industry. By 1945, when

zinc was in high demand for the war effort (for brass and galvanizing?),

large horizontal shafts were bored into the mines and the ore was

carried away on trucks. The last zinc mine in Wisconsin closed in 1979.



The next town we prowled was Belmont, named for a large mound near

the original site of the town, which later relocated to be near

the railroad line. ("Why'd they put the train station so fer out of

town?" "Wanted it ta be close to the tracks, I expect.") Belmont

advertises itself as the home of the first capitol (building, not

city) of Wisconsin on the basis of early meetings that took place

there in 1836 for the newly formed Wisconsin territory, which comprised

Wisconsin, Iowa, Missouri and part of the Dakotas. (The Wisconsin

Territory was carved out of the Michigan Territory, which was carved

out of the Illinois Territory, which in turn was carved out of the

Indiana Territory, as pieces of those territories were split off

as states.) The territorial legislature had a single session (its

first) in Belmont, though it was never designated as the permanent

capital. However, a number of buildings for the territorial government

were built there, of which a courthouse and the Council House (site

of the legislative session, hence the first capitol) still stand.



Digression: It seems Belmont was pushed as a site for the territorial

capital by the first territorial governor, Henry Dodge, who was

encouraged by a group with land interests there. Belmont was judged

too remote by the first legislators, who seemed to favor Burlington,

Iowa, because of its more central location in the territory. Enter

Judge James Doty, who through bribery and generous donations of

land pusuaded the legislators that Madison would be a better site.

It was called Four Lakes then, and no white people actually lived

here at the point it was selected as the capital.



Belmont also has a cheese factory owned by Besnier America, which makes

soft cheeses, including President brand Camembert and Brie. We bought

a wheel of Camembert and some herbed Brie for about a third of what

we've seen them for in stores.



Our final stop was Mineral Point, which is where the federal land

grant office for the region was located. (See report on New Glarus.)

Mineral Point features its Welsh heritage, though settlers of many

nationalities were there from early on. As well as being good hard-rock

miners, the Welsh were apparently skilled at quarrying and masonry.

Mineral Point is full of stone buildings (including a stone service

station), and it reminded Kaye and I of villages we saw along the Loire

in France. We drove along Shake Rag Street, so named because of the

way the women living there would summon their husbands home for meals

from the mines on the facing hillside. We had lunch in town, which

included a Cornish pasty (pass-tee; a kind of meat and potato

turnover) and figgybobbin for dessert.



The most interesting encounter on our expedition took place in

Mineral Point, when Kaye spotted a storefront with a large

group of Winnebago and southwestern Indian baskets inside. There

were also dozens of crazy quilts and Indian rugs hanging inside, along

with various pieces of art made from found objects. It wasn't really

a store, nor a museum. It appeared to be closed, but Kaye knocked

anyway, and managed to roust out the owner. It belongs to a retired art

teacher, Jamie Ross, who is enamored with art that uses letters in a

decorative fashion. (He attributes this fascination to his dyslexia.)

We then noticed that almost all the items he had, baskets and blankets

included, included letters as a decorative motif. His own art is

photographs of letters, or photos with letters added and then

rephotographed. He appeared to live in a screened off area of this

old store, which might have once been an auto showroom. He made

noises about wanting someday to get his collection organized and

open it up as a museum. We inquired discretely about whether he was

selling any of his art, but he said he was uncomfortable setting prices

and left that up to gallery owners and agents who arranged shows for

him. He had taught studio art as well as a course in philosophy

of art, and we got to hear snatches of a number of lectures, which

ranged from what Marcel Duchamp was really saying with his found

objects (all sex) to the absurdity of limiting the designation "fine"

art to only that art that is useless. ("The Mona Lisa is only about this

big---you couldn't even use it to iron on.") Truly a an eccentric of

the old school.



Short takes:



- Down the street someone has made a "snowman" out of three big

pumpkins, with squash for arms and gourds for facial features.

Kind of a Halloween--Christmas transition, I guess.



- We've really been enjoying the sour cherry preserves we got in

Mt. Horeb and the cherry cider (really cherry juice and apple cider)

from Door County (a peninsula that extends into Lake Michigan, forming

Green Bay).



More Packerware spotted recently:



"Say Cheese" Packer disposable camera

Packer pasta--in the shape of the Green Bay logo and footballs

Packer chips, in green and yellow

Packer Christmas cards

Packer Christmas tree bulbs

Solid 14K gold cheese wedge jewelry

(guess what Kaye's getting for Christmas)



I close with a quote from the trip:



"A few evil disposed persons can easily be governed by those well inclined."

John H. Rountree, Mining Regulations for Wisconsin, 1877.



Dave