Windmills of Batavia

Posted on February 14, 2023 by admin

This is the Fabyan Windmill in Kane County, near the Fox River.

Nearly 15 years ago, we saw the Fabyan Windmill, which was brought to the site by the whim of a wealthy local resident years earlier. It’s still there. But we didn’t visit on Saturday, though it’s only a little north of where we went in Batavia.

We saw other windmills last weekend, all collected near the river in Batavia. None of them were Dutch-style. Instead, they were the kind you used to find, and still find, on North American farms and ranches.

Such as the Pearl Steel windmill, made ca. 1900 by the Batavia Wind Mill Co.

A plain sort of design. The people’s windmill, you might say.

In the late 19th- and early 20th centuries, Batavia was a hub of windmill manufacturing – a supplier of the technology to the nation. By mid-century, that was done, and Batavia moved past its windmill days until the 1990s. Then local citizens made an effort to find, acquire and erect Batavia-made windmills, mostly on the peninsula in the Fox River that we strolled around last weekend.

Another example: a Challenge Vaneless Model 1913 windmill. I like the floral aesthetics of this one.

A Goodhue Special, Appleton Manufacturing Co., early 20th century.

A Challenge 27 windmill, by the Challenge Wind Mill and Feed Mill Co., which is a later example (immediate pre-WWII years) and apparently a great success as a culmination of earlier cool Machine Age technology.

“As a self-oiling mill, the main casting served as its own oil reservoir,” the sign in front of the Challenge 27 mill explains. “Two large crank gears lifted the oil out of the reservoir and and carried it to both the pinion gears and an oil trough located at the base of the guide rods. From here the oil was lifted to lubricate the crosshead and then transmitted during every revolution of the wheel to the front main bearing under the wheel’s hub. From here, the oil flowed back to the reservoir through the force of gravity.”

Two more (among several others): Challenge OK Windmill, also by Challenge, but of less certain date, ca. 1900.

And a U.S. Model E.

Early 20th century again, made by the U.S. Wind Engine and Pump Co.

Excellent restorations, though they seem to be fixed in place, and so don’t turn with the wind anymore. Probably a preservation strategy. Still, windmill enthusiasts (there must be some) are advised to visit Batavia, and also to take a look at this handy guide to the machines rising over park land in that village.

Along the Fox River, Batavia

Posted on February 13, 2023 by admin

We’re having a few days of faux spring. I ate lunch on the deck today, and noticed that the croci in the back yard are just beginning to push upward. That’s in contrast to last year, when that happened well into March, and no there were blooms until early April.

Temps were in the upper 40s on Saturday, and there was no threat of rain, so we took a walk along the Fox River in Batavia, Illinois.

Not so warm that there still isn’t a film of ice. Faux spring, after all, is still winter.

We walked along a peninsula that juts into the river. It’s partly parkland, with an easy trail near the edge of the water all the way around.

At the northern tip of the peninsula is a gazebo. Called a “pavilion” on the signs, but I know a gazebo when I see one.

The Challenge Dam.

There’s been a dam of some kind on the site since the 1830s, originally providing water power for various small factories along the river (flour, ice, lumber, paper, stone), a function long relegated to the past. The current concrete dam is a bit more than 100 years old, taking its name from the Challenge Wind Mill and Feed Mill Co., whose building was next to the dam. More prosaically, it’s also called Batavia Dam, and there seem to be long-term plans in the works to remove it.

The former wind mill (and feed mill) building.

I didn’t take a closer look, but the Batavia Historical Society says the building is in use even now, “partially filled with various, small companies.”

The city of Batavia has a building on the peninsula.

And a bulldog statue.

The Bulldogs are the local high school mascot, and 15 painted bulldogs were to be found in Batavia in the warm months of 2018.

Taishō-Era Beer

Posted on February 12, 2023 by admin

Back to the vault of my old correspondence again, for a postcard I mailed from Japan nearly 29 years ago. I picked up a set of cards at the Sapporo Brewery in Sapporo, Hokkaido on our trip there in the fall of ’93. One reason to visit the brewery — the main one, as it happened — was dinner at the beer garden, for its splendid Mongolian barbecue.

The cards were reproductions of old advertising posters for that brand of beer.

A Taishō-era (大正) poster, in this case. In particular, Taishō 13, or as most of the rest of the world would call it, 1924.

As an era, Taishō didn’t last much longer, expiring in 1926 with the sickly emperor Yoshihito, who became known as Taishō posthumously. Taishō Democracy, such as it was, didn’t last much longer either, since like Weimar Germany, it had never really taken root, and the Depression laid the groundwork for its demise.

Thursday Collection: Claw Machines, Ramen & Dreams Odder Than Usual

Posted on February 9, 2023 by admin

Spotted recently at the mini-mall attached to Mitsuwa, the largest Japanese grocery store here in the northwest suburbs, which is in Arlington Heights.

Banks of Japanese claw machines where a travel agency used to be. Not quite sure what this one is.

The arcade, if you can call it that, is under the brand name Kiddleton Kiosk. Turns out there are quite a few of them, mostly associated with Japanese grocery stores in the U.S.

I never had much use for claw machines. Probably because they seemed like a good way to feed quarters, or tokens, into a machine, and watch it give you nothing. Maybe Kiddleton has a different business model involving a low cost of prizes, which do deliver sometimes, compared with a higher input of tokens. I didn’t feel like testing out that idea.

Not long ago, we went to Hokkaido Ramen House in Hoffman Estates. Hit the spot. Hot steamy ramen, mine with thin slices of pork, egg and some vegetables. Just the kind of thing to enjoy on a raw winter evening.

I didn’t realize it was part of a chain until after we were there. When I found out, I looked at the chain’s web site to see where the others were. California, I figured, and maybe in the Northeast and Texas. You know, the usual chain restaurant suspects.

Turns out there’s only one in California (Santa Cruz). Guess the Asian restaurant competition’s a little stiff in that state. There are indeed a few in the Northeast and Texas as well, including one in Waco, which is a little surprising. But the real surprise is five in Montana and three in Idaho. Then again, maybe not a surprise. It’s cold a lot in those places, and ramen warms you up.

Two old friends of mine met for the first time recently, in a dream of mine. One a lanky bald fellow I’ve known 40 years, the other sporting long gray hair and a thick beard for that Old Testament prophet look, whom I’ve know nearly as long. They were sitting at a table, with me, eating a meal, despite the fact that we were weightless in a space station. They seemed to be getting on well, and one of them, or me, or someone, explained that the company that built the space station had done so well renting cars that it was able to send people to the station at a low cost.

An even odder dream, later the same night: I climbed a ladder to rescue – kidnap? – a group of sentient pens and pencils. Semi-sentient, at least. I couldn’t carry them in a pocket, so I put the group of pens and pencils, who knew what I was doing, under my arms to carry them down the ladder. It all felt a little precarious.

Mochidou

Posted on February 8, 2023 by admin

Not long ago, we noticed Mochidou, a pastry shop in Hoffman Estates, Illinois. How that happened involves a change of veterinarians from a few years ago.

Once upon a time, we took the dog to a nearby practice that included a husband-and-wife vet team who had good bedside (kennel-side?) manor. Then about three years ago, they moved on at about the same time as a soulless chain of veterinary practices acquired the location. This new owner – let’s call it Three Initial Animal Care – soon showed its true colors when the dog acquired a snout infection in the summer of 2020.

Things were looking bad, and during a consultation by phone (these were high pandemic days, remember), whomever had replaced the competent married couple prescribed medicine we couldn’t get the dog to eat. Then the infection spread to one of her eyes. Later, the new vet saw the dog in person, while I waited in the car, and she seemed just a little too eager to fob us off on a specialty hospital, which also happened to be part of the chain.

After some expensive tests at said hospital, no cause could be determined. Could have been a virus. Or bacteria. Or a fungus. Nevertheless, the specialist there said we could proceed with very expensive surgery to try to fix things. As fond as we are of our old dog, we determined at the point that she was either going to live or not, without further intervention.

She lived. And lives to this day, with more energy than you’d expect from a dog around 13 years old. The infection destroyed her right eye, and she sneezes more than she used to, which seems to be a permanent result of the snout damage. She might also have a diminished sense of smell, which I suppose would be worse for a dog than losing some eyesight. But she doesn’t complain, and more importantly, has a vigorous appetite, and still barks at passersby, lolls around on the floor, begs for food, and does all the other dog things dogs do.

In early 2021, we decided to find a new vet, and so we did, a fellow with a solo practice in Hoffman Estates. We like him, and I believe he gives good advice.

The last time we took her to see him, we noticed that Mochidou had opened in the same strip center. Seems to be the only one of that name (so far). It sells mochi doughnuts — that is, a fusion of Japanese mochi and American doughnuts.

Last week, I was in the vicinity on non-dog business, and bought a box. We gave them a try. Man, are they good.

They aren’t as hyper-chewy as mochi, or as soft as a regular American (non-cake) doughnut, but in between. They aren’t as plain as mochi, or as sweet as a typical doughnut, but in between. Add to that a dash of flavor, mango in our case, and you have a wonderful treat.

“Enter the mochi donut: a donut trend that is sweeping across America due to its uniquely bouncy texture and naturally gluten-free qualities,” Thrillist reported in 2020. “The mochi donut has existed before its stateside debut, but was mostly popularized in Japan under the name ‘pon de ring’ from the donut chain, Mister Donut.”

(Mister Donut’s a post for another time. I’ve got some fond memories of mornings at the Mister Donut across the street from Nagai Koen Park in Osaka, savoring the fine doughnuts, refreshing milk tea and the incongruous rockabilly soundtrack.)

Mochidou’s confections are probably made of tapioca flour, since glutinous rice flour would end up chewier, but I didn’t ask about the ingredients, and box didn’t say. Note that they are rings of eight attached dough balls. An elegant design that makes it easy to share.

Only one gripe: they are expensive. A half dozen sells for about $16. Hipsters in high-rent urban settings spurred along to the next gustatory experience by FOMO might not consider that pricey, but we suburbanites — who take what comes — do.

Face to Face With a Short Snorter for the First Time

Posted on February 7, 2023 by admin

After our walk in the forest on Sunday, we dropped by an antique mall that we visit occasionally, and I saw something I’d read about years earlier, but had never actually seen. And I mean many years ago – maybe as long ago as junior high in the mid-70s, when I was browsing through one of the dictionaries we had at home, as one did before the Internet. I did, anyway.

By chance one day, I happened across the term short snorter. Occasionally afterward I’d mention it to someone else, and no one had ever heard of it. But I didn’t forget. That’s the kind of obscurity worth treasuring. In more recent years, I found mention of them online.

There under glass on Sunday – which accounts for the glare – was a short snorter.

Evidently, this silver certificate began its career as a short snorter on July 11, 1944 at Crumlin, near Lough Neagh, in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

In our time, naturally, there are web sites devoted to short snorters. Even so, I’m sure that most people still haven’t heard of them, since they seem to have faded after WWII, as lost to time time as A cards.

“A short snorter is a banknote which was signed by various persons traveling together or meeting up at different events and records who was met,” the Short Snorter Project says. “The tradition was started by bush pilots in Alaska in the 1920s and subsequently spread through the growth of military and commercial aviation. If you signed a short snorter and that person could not produce it upon request, they owed you a dollar or a drink.”

Not only was it a real thing, there are short snorters with names, as the page details, such as the General Hoyt Vandenberg Snorter, the Harry Hopkins Snorter and the Yalta Snorter, among others.

The page also claims that “short snorters come to light at coins shops and coin shows where most dealers pay very little for them as they are heavily worn and ‘not very collectible.’ ”

Tell that to the antique dealer offering the note I saw. The asking price: $95. Obscurity worth treasuring, maybe, but I wasn’t inclined to pay that much.

Ned Brown Forest Preserve (Busse Lake) ’23

Posted on February 6, 2023 by admin

We’ve been to Ned Brown Forest Preserve more recently than February 2012, but I can’t remember when, so it’s been a while. With temps above freezing and the sun shining as brightly as it can in February, we decided to take a walk there on Sunday.

Good thing we weren’t in the mood for a picnic.

Plenty of people had been there before us.

But no bicycles. That’s the best thing about these trails in winter. In warmer weather, especially on a weekend, you play dodge ’em with the two wheelers if you’re a mere pedestrian.

Ice fishing is at your own risk on Busse Lake. Does it look like a good day for it?

Apparently it was, at least on a small sliver of the surface. Of course, we’ve had some deep cold recently, so I guess that’s what kept these people from dropping into the icy drink.

Fun for some. For our part, we walked around to the dam that forms Busse Lake by blocking Salt Creek. This is the view from the dam toward the lake.

Toward the spillway.

We decided not to take the nearby Salt Creek Trail, though we have before.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and we —

We took the one more traveled by,

And that has made no difference at all.

Groundhog Day Without Groundhogs

Posted on February 5, 2023 by admin

Last Thursday temps were around freezing during the day, which is pretty good in Illinois for that oddity of an occasion, Groundhog Day.

The day shares more than one might think with Christmas, though of course it isn’t an all-consuming religious and cultural event in much of the world, just a relatively minor one. Still, it has pagan taproots connected to astronomical lore in northern Europe, an association with a Christian holiday (Candlemass), folklore imported from German-speaking lands, Victorians putting it in its modern form, a universal appearance on North American calendars (Canadians take note of the day too), and famed representations in mass media in the 20th century (e.g., Groundhog Day).

The closest show-marmot event to where we live seems to be the one involving Woodstock Willie, whose effigy I saw in the warmer month of July. We weren’t inclined to trudge all the way to exurban Woodstock on Thursday for the event, however.

Rather, we loaded ourselves and the dog in the car for the less than 10-minute drive to Schaumburg Town Square for a walkabout, after certain other errands. We knew that Friday was to be bitterly cold, so wanted to get out in the tolerable temps (still around freezing) before that happened.

No festivities going on there. In fact, no one else was there at all. Still plenty of ice on the pond and snow on the ground.

A Polar Trac stands ready to deal with more snow.

No venturing out onto the ice. Of course. I didn’t need a red flag to tell me that.

Hard to believe, but this patch of ground, a garden —

— is going to have an entirely different character –

— in only about four months.

Two Bloomington Churches

Posted on February 2, 2023 by admin

Before leaving Bloomington on Sunday, I took a quick look at a couple of churches. Holy Trinity is an imposing brick edifice at Main and Chestnut not far from downtown. Walkable distance, in fact, except on a cold day, so I drove from near the former courthouse and parked across the street for my look.

Closed on Sunday afternoon, so I didn’t see the inside.

It’s a 1930s art deco replacement for a 19th-century structure that burned down early on the morning of March 8, 1932. I found a digitized book, History of Holy Trinity Parish by the Rt. Rev. Msgr. S.N. Moore (1952), that describes the event.

“It would be hard to say how the fire started, but there were suspicious circumstances,” he wrote, then mentioning other fires in town all within a few days of the burning of the church, including ones at a dance pavilion and another at a grade school.

“At this time, because of the depression, the Communists were very active in Bloomington. The fires in Bloomington did follow a certain pattern – the church, the school, both of which of necessity be soon replaced.”

Reds, huh? Well, maybe. Insurance paid for the current building, designed by A.F. Moratz, a busy local architect, according to the always informative Pantagraph.

Less than a mile to the west is Historic Saint Patrick’s, dating from the late 19th century and not the site of a fire that I know of, communist-set or otherwise. I assume the church was originally built for the area’s Irish population.

I went inside. A mass was in progress, so I didn’t take pictures. A fellow named Kevin did, and it’s a nice collection.

Not the First Street Paved With Bricks

Posted on February 1, 2023 by admin

One more thing caught my attention near the former McLean County Courthouse on Sunday: a plaque set in bricks.

Center Street

Site

First brick pavement in the United States

Innovation to modern highways

Installed 1877 by Napoleon B. Heafer

This plaque set in original paving brick and

presented to the city of Bloomington May 11, 1968

By Bloomington Junior High School students

Their participation in Illinois

sesquicentennial observance.

A small thing of note, if true. A small amount of investigation reveals, however, that it isn’t true, at least according to Bill Kemp of the McLean County Museum of History, and I’m inclined to believe him rather than a class of junior high kids from 50+ years ago (and I’ve cited Kemp before).

“This stubborn, well-worn myth has been around for nearly a century, if not longer, though as often is the case with local legends and lore, there is some truth to the story,” the Pentagraph reported in 2012 in an article by Kemp. “The plaque correctly states that Napoleon B. Heafer ‘installed’ a stretch of brick pavement in 1877, and it’s mostly correct in that this represented an ‘innovation to modern highways’ (though ‘streets’ would be a more appropriate word choice than ‘highways’).

“The first U.S. patent for brick paving dates to 1868, and some claim Charleston, W. Va., laid the nation’s first brick street in 1873.”

Just another example of origination folklore, looks like. In the same category as the first hamburger or the invention of baseball. I’d say the story of Napoleon B. Heafer himself is much more interesting than the assertion that he did the first brick paving of a street (he’s pictured to the right, image borrowed from the museum).

A failed prospector out west, Heafer’s one of those 19th-century businessmen that came out of nowhere and by dint of imagination and his own hard work – or luck and the toil of his employees, take your pick – made a fortune supplying something urgently needed right then by the growing nation.

“In 1861, Heafer and James McGregor established a brick yard at the corner of Hannah Street and Croxton Avenue [in Bloomington],” the museum explains. “Over the next 23 years, N.B. Heafer and Co. expanded to include seven acres of ground and multiple brick yards as well as a large pond that was often used for swimming parties. By 1883 Heafer claimed that it was the largest clay tile factory in the United States.

“In the late 1880s, the brick and tile industry peaked due to an incredibly high demand from farmers needing a way to drain their swampy fields… after much experimentation, Heafer made his first brick tile pipe in 1879. It was a round tile with a diameter of about 3 inches. Later he made them as large as 24-30 inches in diameter, which was more effective. Eventually nearly every farm in the county was drained to some extent, employing clay tiles.”

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Monthly Archives: February 2023