National Monument Archives • words and images

Pullman National Monument

Posted on June 20, 2022 by dlschirfJune 24, 2022

June 19, 2022

J had thought to go to Sagawau Canyon or Chicago Botanic Garden, but the roads were too red and the delays too great for my tolerance (33+ minutes!). He suggested the National Park Service property closest to me — Pullman National Monument, about 20 to 25 minutes away via Stony Island, potholes and all.

A ranger who seemed happy to see visitors greeted us and gave us brochures and a neighborhood map. When I saw Cottage Grove and a Metra stop on the map, I realized I pass within a few blocks of the visitor center when I take Metra to Homewood or University Park. The Kensington station is at 115th Street and Cottage Grove. Pullman is near Lake Calumet, Big Marsh Park, Indian Ridge, and Dead Stick Pond, and not far from Hegewisch Marsh and Beaubien Woods. It’s a strange area, abandoned in part by industry, bisected by I-94 and its ceaseless noise, and only partially reclaimed by wetlands.

The visitor center is well laid out. Our ranger friend told us the second and third floors are being developed, and the building across the way, roofed with plastic sheeting, is being restored by the state of Illinois.

As someone who’s not from Chicago and who’s never fully embraced living here, I didn’t know much about Pullman or the economic and labor situation. From the 1890s, I know more about serial killer H. H. Holmes than anything else. Now I know a bit more.

A timeline on the wall shows the history of Pullman, from its association with luxury and its conversion to wartime production (twice) to its final delivery in 1981 to Amtrak. Mixed in are episodes of economic, social, and labor unrest, with federal troops called in, firing on and killing striking laborers.

Other exhibits include a gander at what a Pullman car looked like on the inside, with reproduced seats and ceiling. A video shows a porter at work putting up a bed and a couple commenting on the car’s luxury. Displays cover the Pullman neighborhood and the restricted life lower-level employees led — what would it be like to sleep, eat, and be entertained within steps of work, with little means to go anywhere else day to day?

Race is part of the rail labor story. While many Pullman porters (most? all?), like one of Michelle Obama’s ancestors, were African American, they were not allowed to join the new rail labor unions. In their conflicts with the upper business classes, the unions turned down help from people with whom they had common cause, apparently without seeing the irony. To be fair, it’s noted that labor leader Eugene Debs did not agree with this choice to exclude African Americans.

One great thing about the visitor center exhibits: They’re tactile and include Braille. Instead of, say, a flat drawing of a Pullman car, the graphic is grooved or carved so you can feel the shape and details. Sometimes Iv’e wondered if Braille is an endangered language but it seems not.

There’s also a spot where people, mostly children, can write their reactions. I wish I’d taken photos. One wrote that while capitalism has some benefits, it also creates problems, which are listed. That kid is smarter than the average bear, as we used to say.

The exhibits draw such observations out by asking questions about life for laborers, many immigrants, in the shadow of privileged and wealthy owners and leaders, and about the violence of the government response when rail service linking Midwest and West was severed. I’d like to think it wouldn’t happen again, but these are “interesting times,” with income disparity and other inequities driving unrest, overt and covert. While Pullman may seem to be in the distant past, the issues resonate today.

There is, of course, a very good gift shop, where we learned the author of one of the books for sale (which I was buying) was speaking nearby. His talk would have been half over by then, so I passed.

Afterward we drove around a bit to see some of the neighborhood’s highlights and housing. I especially liked the livery stable.

Next to the Lake Hotel, we found Gateway Garden. We’d seen a sign on a house about local honey; J discovered the property contained many, many beehives. They must have more than Gateway Garden to meet their needs. Unlike J, I didn’t see the apiary or meet the owners, but I wonder if they get complaints. I hope not.

See this article from May 2022: ‘Good memories’: Brothers revisit last Pullman passenger rail car they helped build

Pullman National Monument

18 photos

Grand Portage, Isle Royale National Park, Grand Portage National Monument, Grand Marais

Posted on August 8, 2014 by dlschirfMarch 12, 2023

Day 8: On which I don’t see a moose but do see mergansers and find out that “moose is a myth”

August 8, 2014

Isle Royale National Park

30 photos

We arrived bright and early for the boat trip to Isle Royale National Park and to our delight were called very early in the boarding process — we could get our choice of seats. The weather was warmer and sunnier than last year, so we didn’t notice the cold in the stern area. Being by now seasoned veterans of one previous trip, we knew where to look for the “witch tree,” the wreck of the America, and the Rock of Ages light (best photographed on the return trip, when the pilot navigates around the light slowly). The trip seemed shorter, maybe because we knew how long it would take and we weren’t shivering the whole way.

At Windigo, once again we spent time at the store and visitor center, but this time the flocks of butterflies around the shrubs near the dock were gone. I had been hoping to get some better photos of them this year. We met a guy who’d walked from the other end of the island, but it sounded like he hadn’t run into a moose on his week-long journey.

We headed for the campground, where we wandered around and checked out the primitive campsites (three-sided shelters with an opening of netting — very cozy). On the way, we passed some odd structures on slight hillside. According to the sign, they’re part of the park’s minimally invasive sewage system. I thought about the guy we’d just met and wondered if he was going to try out the short, expensive showers at Windigo’s nearby bathroom (several dollars for a few minutes).

J. found where a previous camper had left his mark, “Moose is a myth.” We didn’t see much wildlife, maybe because it was a few weeks later in the summer. I found only the remains of what may have been a rabbit, strangely unconsumed. On the way back, we passed mergansers sunning themselves on a rock.

At the dock, again we were called early in the boarding, so this time J. didn’t have to stand on the starboard side getting drenched with cold spray. We were in a good spot to get photos of the Rock of Ages light, which was perfectly illuminated in the afternoon sun.

After returning we had some time, so we went to the Grand Portage National Monument visitor center. The general area was mobbed as there was some kind of reenactment going on. The Monument overlooks Grand Portage Bay and Grand Portage Island, formerly known as Isle au Mouton and Pete’s Island. It’s a beautiful view in the late afternoon sun.

Our next stop was at Grand Marais and Shoreline Inn. Every herring gull along the North Shore seems to lurk among the buildings in Grand Marais, maybe because that’s where the tourists, and the tidbits that come with them, are. Perched along most of roof lines in sight, they cried and cried and cried during the evening, most likely settling down later so they could start up again in the morning.

Back near the Gunflint Trail, J. told me a co-worker had recommended the Gunflint Tavern, which was very busy. Halfway through dinner, though, I felt sick and woozy (unrelated to dinner), so left J. and walked back to Shoreline Inn, still guarded by gulls on the roof. The evening air helped, and the night view of the shore and the lake was lovely, a peaceful end to a full and filling day.

Grand Portage, Isle Royale National Park, Bayfield

Posted on July 19, 2013 by dlschirfMay 16, 2023

July 19, 2013: Day 8

After a couple of small lake adventures, we were back to the shores of Lake Superior, this time on a boat that goes to Windigo at Isle Royale National Park. Although Windigo is reached by boat from Grand Portage, Minnesota, Isle Royale is part of Michigan. The island, Lake Superior’s largest, is known for long-term study of its isolated eastern timber wolf-moose populations and their predator-prey relationship. J. had seen a moose on his previous visit, but we weren’t going to have that kind of luck this day.

The boat was more crowded than I expected, with both day trippers like ourselves and overnight campers. Even in the sun, the air was much cooler than on our previous boat adventures, and I was glad I’d brought an extra layer along. J. was stuck with a single layer and short sleeves in the strong, chilly breeze.

This is more of a ferry than a cruise, with the primary business of shuttling visitors back and forth between mainland and island park. The main intermediate stop on the outbound trip was to look at the wreck of the SS America, parts of which are visible in the shallow waters near Isle Royale. There’s nothing like the feeling you get when you’re looking at a sunken passenger ship from the deck of a passenger ship that you hope won’t end up next door. On the positive side, everyone aboard the America on June 7, 1928, made it to lifeboats.

At Windigo, we were greeted by National Park Service Interns, who helped give us the rundown on the rules. Once recent college graduate from lower Michigan told us how it’s a long adventure just to get home.

Once on Isle Royale, the first things I saw were a tiny northern red-bellied snake, one of the island’s three reptile species, and hundreds of butterflies swarming the bushes near the dock — both very easy to photograph. Given the limited amount of time we had, I spent too much time with the butterflies, at the visitor center, and in the convenience store.

Next, we took the nearby Nature Trail, which is close to the visitor center and passes through a few habitats before turning into a wide dirt road next to the water. We thought we saw a moose in the water across the way, but it was a combination of wishful thinking and a snag.

At the dock, we talked with an intern about the wolves. There are only an inbred handful left, a few adults and a few pups. They’re rarely seen, even by the rangers and interns. The island is home to other wildlife, including thieving foxes, which are featured on “Wanted” posters.

Recently I read that (inbreeding aside) one reason for the Isle Royale wolf population crash was parvovirus. Someone, ignorant of the rules or simply flouting them, brought their dog onto the island. I’m sure they thought, “Stupid rules. What harm can my Fluffy do?” As it turned out, Fluffy introduced a deadly disease to a vulnerable population. Bad dog (well, bad humans)! I’d like to think the culprit was caught, prosecuted, and punished, and also learned a lesson — but there are always those who believe rules (and laws) are for other people.

We talked to the intern so long that, before we knew it, the boat was full and about to set off. For much of the return trip, J. had to stand along the rail with a few others, with cold spray soaking all of them. The boat made only one stop that I can remember, at the magnificent Rock of Ages Light — another of my favorite trip photos.

Back on the mainland, we stopped at the Grand Portage National Monument, then continued to Grand Portage State Park, where an easy walk takes you to where the Pigeon River drops over High Falls, with Canada across the way. As with Cross River, the Pigeon seemed engorged compared to videos I’ve seen of it. We were covered with mist even before we reached the viewing platform, and I wondered how water resistant my new Nikon D7100 would prove to be.

With the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore cruise the next morning, we had a long drive to Bayfield ahead of us. We tried to get to Beaver Bay before Lemon Wolf Café closed for the night, but just missed it and ate at a nearby bar, then drove off into another long evening. We arrived at the Silvernail Guest House in the early morning hours, having left Minnesota behind reluctantly.