Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, Bloomington

Sometime in the late 1990s, I visited the David Davis House in Bloomington, Illinois. As Lincoln’s campaign manager in 1860 — and important in getting him nominated in the first place — Davis was a behind-the-scenes man at a critical turning point in U.S. history. Lincoln put him on the Supreme Court in ’62.

On Sunday, I took a quick look at the house. As handsome as I remember.
David Davis House BloomingtonBut that isn’t why I swung through Bloomington. I wanted to see the Evergreen Memorial Cemetery. An impressive array of stones among the still-bare trees and brown grass.

Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonEvergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonEvergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonSome sizable memorials, too, befitting the prosperous place Bloomington was in the 19th century.

Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonEvergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonNot a huge amount of funerary art, but some.
Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonI’d come to visit the Stevensons. Here’s the Adlai Stevenson famed for being shellacked by Eisenhower but also for his denunciation of Soviet behavior on the world stage.

Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, Bloomington

This Adlai Stevenson was 23rd Vice President of the United States, from 1893 to 1897, during Cleveland’s second term.
Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonHad President Cleveland’s cancer in ’93 been more aggressive, or medical science not up to its extraction — a few years earlier, probably not — this is also the Stevenson who would have been president.

I didn’t know the Scotts also memorialized on the stone: Matthew and Julia Scott. Turns out Stevenson was married to Letitia, Julia’s sister. Also, Matthew T. Scott was a business partner of Adlai Stephenson, with a distinctly 19th-century CV: land speculation, newspaper publishing, a coal mine.

Just before I left, I took a look at something a little more unusual.
Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, BloomingtonAccording to a nearby plaque, the carving memorializes an airplane that crashed into the tree that used to stand there.

“On May 31, 1948, a group of citizens gathered at Evergreen Memorial Cemetery’s Civil War Veteran’s enclosure…” the plaque begins.

That must be here, very near the tree.

Evergreen Memorial Cemetery, Bloomington“… During the ceremony, a WWII trainer plane flown by James A. Tuley and passenger Chester H. Frahm was flying over Evergreen… to drop poppies over the grounds. The plane crashed into this tree, killing Frahm and severely injuring Tuley,” the plaque continues.

“In 2015 this tree had to come down and cemetery employees felt something more needed to be done with the wood from the tree… chainsaw artist Tim Gill was contacted and he accepted the challenge.”

The Pantagraph published a fuller version of the story.

Oak Grove Cemetery, LeRoy

One place I wanted to visit during Sunday’s micro-excursion was the Evergreen Memorial Cemetery in Bloomington, Illinois, but just before I arrived at the town of LeRoy (see yesterday), which is about 20 miles from Bloomington, I spotted the Oak Grove Cemetery off U.S. 150.

I pulled in. Why not? I expected a small cemetery, but it stretched back for acres, with plenty of well-established trees that will probably fill out nicely beginning next month.

Oak Grove Cemetery, LaRoy IllinoisOak Grove Cemetery, LaRoy IllinoisOak Grove Cemetery, LeRoy IllinoisThere weren’t a lot a large memorials, but whoever Robert Flegel was, he and his wife Mary got an obelisk after their passing in the early 20th century.
Oak Grove Cemetery LaRoy IllinoisWhatever else he did, Flegel fought to save the Union, according to the inscription: Co. K, 108th Illinois Volunteer Infantry. Looks like his descendants or other family members are keen to decorate the many Flegel stones.

Oak Grove Cemetery LaRoy IllinoisThere are a lot of Munsters at Oak Grove as well.
Oak Grove Cemetery LaRoy IllinoisFurther back away from the road are older stones. Mostly 19th century, including some pioneers of McLean County, probably.
Oak Grove Cemetery LaRoy IllinoisAccording to Find-A-Grave, spiritualist Simeon H. West was buried in the cemetery after he “departed this life Apr. 2, 1920.” I hadn’t made his acquaintance yet — that happened later in the day — and I don’t remember seeing his fairly large stone.

LeRoy (Le Roy), Wausaneta and Simeon H. West

On Sunday afternoon, as I headed roughly northwest on U.S. 150 in McLean County, Illinois, I impulsively made a turn off the main road onto Center St., which goes directly to the town square of LeRoy. Or rather, the town sort-of-circle.

I came to be in that part of Illinois because earlier in the day, I’d taken Lilly back to UIUC at the end of her spring break. Usually the trip to Champaign involves popping down on I-57 and returning the same way. But the day wasn’t that cold — not like last time — and despite sometime drizzle, I wanted to make a slight detour and return home via Bloomington.

Champaign to Bloomington could mean a short drive on I-74. Or, if you want something different in March, you take U.S. 150, passing close to the still-unplanted fields and by hulking grain silos and through towns like Mahomet, Mansfield, Farmer City, and LeRoy (sometimes styled Le Roy). The road roughly parallels the Interstate. I took it.

When I got to the LeRoy square (circle), I noticed some memorials inside the circle, including a statue on a pillar. While I was still driving, I took it to be a memorial featuring a Union soldier. I parked nearby and got out for a closer look.

The formal name of the round-shaped green space in LeRoy is Kiwanis Park. Visitors are greeted on one side of the circle by a shoe-store mural.

A building labeled “Town and City Hall” is next to the Le Roy Performing Arts & Media Center, which has the look of a former church building, but I didn’t take a closer look.

Also around the circle are an undertaker, the American Legion Post 79, a clinic and some other buildings.

Kiwanis Park itself has a gazebo. I have to like a place that has a gazebo.

There are also smaller memorials, such as one to all U.S. service men and women, and one to honor Victor, LeRoy Police K-9 Officer from 2005 to 2012.

As I got closer to the main memorial, I realized that it was no Union soldier.
It was an Indian.
If anyone else had been with me — and absolutely no one else was anywhere nearby — I would have said, “How about that?” or “That’s odd” or some such.

An inscription on the base says WAUSANETA. The year carved on the base is 1911.

Also on the base: Cultivate love, peace and harmony; life is too short and time too valuable to waste in angry strife. Be slow to believe evil reports about your neighbors. Be diligent in searching for something good to say about others, and when you find it don’t wait until they are dead, but say it at once.

And more: West’s Precepts. Love and thank the supreme power. Control your temper. Try to keep cheerful. Do all the good you can. Be honest, truthful and temperate. Help the poor, needy and sick. Encourage the weak and timid. Make a specialty of trying to add to the happiness of someone to-day…. and all other days.

What on Earth is this? Why is it in LeRoy, Illinois, about as off the beaten path as you can be?

Last night when I got home, I looked it up. It didn’t take long. The wonderfully named Pantagraph newspaper published an article in 2011 about Wausaneta by McLean County Museum of History Archivist/Librarian Bill Kemp.

“Although few know it today, this statue embodies LeRoy’s longtime ties to spiritualism…” Kemp wrote.

“The idea for such a statue came from local resident and ardent spiritualist Simeon H. West, and he foot the bill to purchase, ship and install the pre-cast metal Native American and its elaborate pedestal. West claimed that on more than one occasion he communed with a deceased Kickapoo named Wausaneta, and he erected this statue as a tribute to the chief and his people.

“The Wausaneta statue gazes in a northeasterly direction toward a long-gone Kickapoo fort or stockade located seven or so miles out of town. In late November 1905, West oversaw the placement of a granite marker at this rich archaeological and historic site (now considered part of the Grand Village of the Kickapoo).

“In the midst of that day’s heavy snow and howling winds, West had an intense spiritualist encounter, later reporting that he had established a ‘rapport with the spirits of the people who lived there in the distant past.’

It was then that he supposedly learned from these spirits that a Kickapoo by the name of Wausaneta was ‘head chief’ during the fort’s construction. In a later seance, West heard from Wausaneta himself, and was told that the chief had died at the age of 75 and was buried north of the historic marker.”

“LeRoy’s Wausaneta was unveiled to the public on New Year’s Day 1912. West, in his typical new-agey grandiosity, dedicated his statue ‘to the lovers of the beautiful in every country and in every clime until time shall be no more.’ ”

That made my day. It’s exactly the kind of eccentric sight I enjoy finding on the road, especially when serendipity leads me to it.

The Rantoul Historical Society Museum

Back on Tuesday. Take holidays whenever you can get them.

Rantoul, Illinois, is a town of about 13,000 just off of I-57 and roughly 20 miles north-northeast of Champaign-Urbana. For the last two years that I’ve been driving regularly between metro Chicago and Champaign, it’s been a sign on the Interstate. I knew that there had been an Air Force base there, and then an air museum on the site, but that both were gone. That’s about all I knew.

So on Sunday, I took the Rantoul exit and made my way to the Rantoul Historical Society Museum. Support little local museums when you can. Besides, you never know what oddities you’ll see, such as White Star brand tomatoes.

The museum is in a former church building on a main road.
Not a particularly old church, either: the Rantoul Presbyterian Church, dedicated in 1953.
The church is something of a microcosm of the town. When the museum moved into the building in 2016, the Rantoul Press did an article about it.

“At one time, when Chanute Air Force Base was open, membership was strong and the building was the site of a number of church and social events,” the Press noted. “But membership tailed off dramatically when the base closed.”

Chanute Air Force Base was open from 1917 to 1993, beginning as an Army Air Corps training facility and ending in a round of base rationalizations. When the base went, most of the local economy went with it.

A good part of the museum is given over to Chanute AFB.

The church’s former sanctuary isn’t used for displays, but a number of other rooms are chock-full of items, some in display cases, some not: photos, paintings, posters, newspapers, other printed ephemera, clothes, household items, knickknacks, toys, furniture, machinery, and items about the Illinois Central RR, which was the town’s reason for being in the 19th century.

In short, the museum sports anything that the good people of Rantoul wanted to give to the historical society after parents and grandparents died, or debris they cleaned out their homes before moving, or things they simply couldn’t bear to throw away. It’s Rantoul’s attic and Rantoul’s basement.

I spent about an hour looking around. I was the only person there besides the fellow watching the place. When I came in, he greeted me and turned on the lights in the other rooms for me. Otherwise, he said, they stay off.

Wonder who Mr. Rantoul was? The museum tells you. And shows you what he looked like.
Robert Rantoul Jr. (1805-52) was a U.S. Representative from Massachusetts and a director of the Illinois Central Railroad. As far as I can tell, he never visited Illinois, but when the Illinois Central was naming towns along its route, he got the nod.

I enjoyed the case full of old telephones.
There were plenty of displays devoted to bygone local sports glory.
A leather football helmet.

I’ve heard you can make a pretty good case that chronic concussion injuries would be reduced if football went back to leather helmets. Besides, they look cooler.

A few of the artifacts hint at someone’s long-ago personal sadness, such as this.
Boy Scout Vest Worn By: Jerry Wright

The picture must be a high school yearbook shot with “1954” added. No doubt the vest was tucked away somewhere by that time. Gerald Wright, it says under the picture. Deceased. Band 1,2,3. Football 1,2.

Snowstorm Aftermath on I-57

Some minor transitions today. Early in the day, after we all had a fine breakfast at the local branch of pancake specialist Walker Bros. — ahead of the Sunday rush — I took Lilly back to Champaign to continue her junior-year education. Later in the day, I took down this season’s Christmas tree, which as usual left a trail of needles all the way from the living room to the curb.

On Saturday, snow had fallen. The most since late November, but even so we only got a few inches here. We were at the northern edge of a larger storm that barreled eastward through Missouri, Iowa, downstate Illinois and Indiana. So the closer we got to Champaign the next day, the more snow we saw covering the ground.

Here’s the I-57 rest area near Buckley, Illinois, where six (eight?) inches or so covered the ground.

Not an epic storm, but enough to cause trouble. Today I-57 was clear and unobstructed. It must have been a different story 24 hours earlier. We saw five, maybe six abandoned cars at various angles off the side of the road between Kankakee and Champaign, part of the aftermath of the previous day’s weather. That included one whose front was banged up badly when it hit a support pillar of an overpass.

Winter Storm Brewing

The latest from the National Weather Service, early Sunday evening (November 25), for my location:

A powerful winter storm will bring blizzard conditions and very heavy snow to portions of the area. Accumulations will exceed a foot in some areas, including across the northwest suburbs and portions of north central Illinois. Most importantly, conditions will deteriorate rapidly this evening from northwest to southeast. Snowfall rates will exceed 2 inches per hour tonight which will allow for quick accumulation on roadways.

Or to put it in less official terms: Winter says he’s back, and he’ll not be trifled with.

I made a point of getting home in the late afternoon today after taking Lilly back to UIUC, before dark and before the rain turned into snow. Reports on the radio told me that the storm was then slamming into Missouri and was headed east, more or less. It all gave some urgency to the drive.

Still, I took time to take Lilly to a Chinese restaurant in Champaign for lunch before I left. Across the street from the place I noticed what you might call a hyperlocal billboard. It says The Chief. Yesterday, Today, Forever. (Punctuation added, but not all caps, because I’m that kind of guy.)

The Chief isn’t mentioned by name, but I know the sign wants passersby to be nostalgic for Chief Illiniwek, mascot of UIUC from 1926 to 2007. Currently the school has no mascot, or symbol, not officially anyway.

The Ellwood House Museum

Every junior high student in Texas takes, or used to take, a class in Texas history. My teacher 45 years ago was the no-nonsense Mrs. Carrico, whose first name I do not remember. She told some Texas history stories that I do remember, including one I thought of not long ago when we visited the Ellwood House Museum in DeKalb, Illinois.

The story was about the popularization of barbed wire in Texas, specifically a demonstration of wire in 1876 in San Antonio organized by salesmen from up north. As the Texas State Historical Association puts it:

“In 1876 salesman Pete McManus with his partner John Warne (Bet-a-Million) Gates conducted a famous demonstration on Alamo Plaza [other sources say Military Plaza, including the TSHA] in San Antonio in which a fence of… wire restrained a herd of longhorn cattle. Gates reportedly touted the product as ‘light as air, stronger than whiskey, and cheap as dirt.’ Sales grew quickly thereafter, and barbed wire permanently changed land uses and land values in Texas.”

I’d heard of steel and oil magnate John Bet-a-Million Gates before, but until I visited the Ellwood I hadn’t connected him with this incident. It was early in his career and before he was renowned as a gambler.

At the time, Gates was working for Isaac Ellwood, barbed wire manufacturer of DeKalb. Later Ellwood owned a major ranch in Texas, and built a “Pompeiian Villa” in Port Arthur, but it’s his Illinois manse that concerns me here.It’s a handsome Victorian house, originally dating from 1879, and designed by a Chicago architect named George O. Garnsey, with later modifications by others.

The museum web site says: “The museum campus consists of seven historic structures (including the 1879 Ellwood Mansion and 1899 Ellwood-Nehring House), four gardens, and 6,000 square feet of exhibit space in the Patience Ellwood Towle Visitor Center, a converted and expanded 1912 multi-car garage.

“Originally built for barbed wire entrepreneur Isaac Ellwood, the Mansion was home to three generations of the Ellwood family from 1879 to 1965. In 1965, the Ellwood Mansion was given to the DeKalb Park District by Mrs. May Ellwood and her three children.”

No pics allowed inside, but be assured that it’s lavishly decorated and includes a lot of the furniture that the Ellwoods owned. No barbed wire, though: that’s on exhibit at the visitors center.

Allen J. Benson Park. Or, the Illinois-Indiana Border Obelisk.

I have a certain fascination with borders, probably dating back as long as I’ve been looking at maps just for fun, which is a long time now. I seem to have written about them a lot as well, something I didn’t realize until I checked.

Such as the posting about the meeting of British Columbia and Alberta; of Banff National Park and Kootenay National Park; and on the Continental Divide. Or the U.S. Canadian border just south of Vancouver. Or the borders we crossed in 2005 and 2006 and another posting about them again. Or the Tennessee-North Carolina border. Or Missouri-Kansas. Or Texas-Louisiana.

Not long ago, I had an encounter with a closer border: Illinois-Indiana. But not just any point on that long line — as far northwest as you can go in Indiana and still be on land, because the NW corner of the state is actually a point in Lake Michigan.

This is what you see at the Illinois-Indiana line just a few feet from Lake Michigan, while you are standing in Indiana.
A weatherworn, graffiti-scarred limestone obelisk. This is a closer view.
“In 1833, as Chicago and the Midwest were starting to grow, Congress ordered a new survey of the boundary between Illinois and Indiana,” says Chicago History Today, which asserts that the obelisk is the oldest public monument in Chicago. “When the survey was completed, a 15-foot high limestone obelisk was put in place on the shore of Lake Michigan, straddling the state line.

“By the 1980s the marker was isolated and neglected among the rail yards. Allen J. Benson, a ComEd executive, convinced the company to sponsor its restoration, in conjunction with the East Side Historical Society and other interested groups. In 1988 the marker was moved 190 feet north to its present location, just outside the [ComEd coal-fired power plant] gate. A new base was added at that time.”

Though moved into an area created by landfill, I understand that the obelisk still straddles the north-south Illinois-Indiana border, which a few feet further north heads out into Lake Michigan. It’s also the border between the city of Chicago and the city of Hammond. (Chicago extended out this far in massive 1889 annexation, which is yellow on the map.)

There’s a plaque near the obelisk that says the small area (maybe inside the fence) is Allen J. Benson Park to honor the exec, who has since died. The power plant closed in 2012, and its former site, a brownfield on the Indiana side of the line, is being redeveloped to be home to a data center.

When the plant was up and running, the marker didn’t look quite so forlorn: in the 2011, according to a Wikimedia image, three flagpoles and some trees were in the vicinity — but no metal fence — and there were plaques on the side of the obelisk with the state names. Guess they were stolen. Such is life in the big city, but I’m glad this curiosity from the 19th century still stands.

Faces in the Grocery Aisle

Besides helping Lilly move her stuff into her new apartment in Champaign, we also took her to a major grocery store. Management seemed eager for the population of UIUC students to swell, as it does every year at this time.
I got distracted among the product aisles. It’s hard not to. For instance, I wondered about the odd longevity of the Vlasic stork.
When the mascot was created (1974, according to Vlasic), the parody of Groucho Marx, including the pickle-as-cigar, would have been instantly recognizable to the audience. Nearly 45 years later? Not as much. I guess the Vlasic stork exists pretty much as its own thing now.

Why a stork? But better always to ask, why a duck?

Another familiar face, Chef Boy-Ar-Dee. But it’s a younger Boy-Ar-Dee (or Boiardi, to be pedantic).
What gives? Boy-Ar-Dee has been an avuncular fellow, a gray presence, since Chef Boiardi was still alive and unafraid to attach his name (phonetically) to such a product.

Maybe the young Boy-Ar-Dee is part of the “throwback recipe” theme, designed to evoke what — the golden age of canned pasta?

Moving along, I was happy to see this phrase.
The bee’s knees is a phase that needs a new life. As for the product, it’s distinction seems to be honey mixed in.

Finally, what’s a grocery store without an array of Spam? More varieties than I remember.

Lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam!

The Colonel Wolfe School

I’ve gotten to know Champaign-Urbana better since 2016, and on Saturday was back again, helping facilitate Lilly’s return to UIUC for the 2018-19 academic year. I didn’t have a lot of time to look around, but one thing did catch my eye: the Colonel Wolfe School building.

Looks a little run down, but seems like it has good bones. The name, hard to see at a distance, is carved in stone over the main entrance.

Lilly will be seeing this building with some regularity, so I asked her whether she knew anything about it. She didn’t. Neither did I, so I did the next best thing: made something up.

“I’ll bet it was a private school run by this fellow Wolfe in the late 19th century,” I said. “One of those schools where the students were mistreated. You know, regular beatings for minor infractions. On quiet moonlit nights, maybe you can hear their ghosts moaning inside the old school.”

Lilly brushed off this suggestion, but I will say in my defense that I suspect that’s how places acquire their reputation as haunted: by people saying they are.

The facts of the Wolfe School are more prosaic. There isn’t a gush of information online about it, but I did find out it was a Champaign public elementary school built in 1905. That was a time of school building reform, so it probably had the latest amenities, such as light-admitting windows and toilets on each floor.

As a school, Colonel Wolfe lasted into the 1970s. Some time later, UIUC acquired the building and used — uses? — it for this and that (sources are a little vague). Doesn’t look like the university has put much money into spiffing up the exterior.

As for Colonel Wolfe — John Wolfe (1833-1904) — he was a civic leader, though not an office holder, in late 19th-century Champaign. As a young man, he fought for the Union as a member of the 20th Illinois Volunteer Infantry and then the 135th Illinois Infantry.
An obit is online. Wolfe never even saw the building, much less thrashed his charges there.