Anderson Lake Conservation Area
This morning I was to have an interview with the Morning Program from Quincy’s WGEM Radio at 8:45. I went forward to the Anderson Lake Conservation Area so I would have a reliable cell phone signal. I was glad I did, because I saw a spectacular sunrise.
Sunrise at Anderson Lake
I also saw a dense bank of mosquitos being gobbled down by hundreds of Purple Martins. (I initially thought some of them might live in the bird hotel on a high pole near the park entrance, but that turned out to be occupied by starlings.) I heard and saw fish jumping, and I heard the strange call of a bird, which I’d like to identify.
Al Capone
When I was in Browning, I took the advice of a man named Virgil Hamm and went to the River’s Edge bar and restaurant to eat lunch. The proprietor suggested that I buy a book by a man named Dale Hamm. The waitress at River’s Edge also told me about her grandfather, Farrel “Screwy” Lane, who had been a liquor runner for Al Capone. She said she had pictures of her grandfather and Capone together at her grandfather’s casino at Bath, over on the other side of the river.
A patron in the restaurant said in a load voice that Capone had never left Chicago to come to the Illinois River, and that that business was all made up. Yesterday I went to a tavern near Lake Anderson (hey, I’m a teetotaler, and I’ve never been to so many taverns in my life) and spoke to Sue Hamm Tarvin, who works there. She sold me a copy of her dad’s book, The Last of the Market Hunters, by Dale Hamm, cowritten with writer David Bakke.
Hamm writes about both Lane and Capone. Apparently about a third of Capone’s liquor runners came to an untimely end, but Lane made his fortune and got out while he was still alive. He must have left Capone’s employ on favorable terms, because he would be frequently seen with Capone in later years.
Capone stayed as far west as Quincy, where there is a (now) restored house he used to visit. Behind the house are hookups for trailers that some of Capone’s lieutenants pulled to Quincy from Chicago. Capone apparently traveled to the Illinois River primarily by train, at least according to what Lane told his granddaughter.
Federal agents never managed to convict Capone for any of his violent or prohibition-defying crimes, but they did finally get him convicted for income tax evasion. He didn’t finish out his term, though, because he was dying of syphilis. When I was completing an M.A. in history at Western Illinois University in the late 1980s, I took a course in Illinois history. Our professor told a personal story about Capone.
His college roommate and friend was a clean-cut young man named Capone. Of course everyone said he must be related to Al Capone, and he always just laughed. He invite the man who would become my professor to go home with him to Florida for Christmas break (that was still politically correct then).
He went, and one day he saw a man in a wheelchair on a balcony. He said, “That looks just like Al Capone.” His friend said, “Yes. That’s my father. He is Al Capone, and they’ve sent him home to die.”
Dale Hamm
The author of the book, The Last of the Market Hunters, was a notorious poacher in his youth, and the book primarily recounts his various adventures and misadventures. When I asked a fisherman about the fish in the Illinois River, he said I should try to ask a Hamm. He called them “Kings of the River” for many miles. Some members of the Hamm family manufacture boats that are designed for use in backwaters of the Illinois. Though much like johnboats, they have a prow in the front to permit them to glance off stumps in shallow water.
Dale Hamm’s book tells of peddling ducks in Chicago, and of some of Capone’s activities along the river. It’s also tells of Dale’s matching wits with many game wardens, both federal and state, and of his numerous arrests for the violation of game laws.
When I got back to Lake Anderson to rest after the first travel of the day, I just left the flag flying on the bicycle, though I secured the bike to front of the pickup so it wouldn’t tip over. I wanted to finish reading Dale Hamm’s book, so I sat down with a big bottle of water and a gallon can of mixed nuts at a picnic table near the lake. I had nearly finished reading the book, when a couple drove past pulling a nice camping trailer.
They drove a ways and then turned around and came back. They had seen my bicycle and flag, and the sign on the driver’s side door of the pickup, and they wanted to know what I was doing out on the road.
They were Greg Luke and Debbie Rummel. Greg said he wanted to stop and thank me for my service to our country, and to thank me for what I’m doing. Debbie’s son is about to leave home for U.S. Navy boot camp at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, north of Chicago. They gave me a donation for my trip, and they also gave me some food they had left over from their camping trip.
I am grateful that I continue to meet such great folks on my journey across Illinois.
Before we leave Lake Anderson Conservation Area, I’d like to give a very brief and probably inadequate description. They have picnic areas, including a shelter house, and they have lots of camping sites, most on gravel and designed for camping other than tents. At a brief glance I saw tulip poplar, sweet gum, river birch, sycamore, black oak, ash, and sequoia redwood trees. I will never forget watching the sun come up over the lake.
I’ll probably damage my knee, but I’ve decided to go farther today.
Bluff City
Bluff City (not the one just east of Vandalia on U.S. 40, in Fayette County, Illinois, just west of Effingham) is the last town on our route along Illinois Route 100, just before we leave Schuyler County to go into Fulton County.
As I rode, walked, and drove among fields of corn with shattered leaves and hanging-down ears (in other words ready to pick when the farmer has time and equipment available; but maybe the farmer is waiting for the moisture to drop just a bit more), the wind made a sound in the dry corn stalks that varied from a quiet whisper to a loud, insistent rattle. Somehow that sound made me think of being a boy, being out on the farm with Dad.
From the time I was a kid until just a few years ago, my dad would say, “We’re proud of you, Son. And don’t forget, the farm’s behind you.”
When I walk or ride into small towns, nylon flag snapping in the breeze, I don’t always attract people, but I do always attract dogs. I imagine the sound must irritate them. At any rate they are alerted to the fact that something unusual is afoot. And in windy West-Central Illinois, the flag is usually snapping pretty loudly.
I have now set the dogs barking in perhaps more small Central Illinois towns than anyone else. I’m reminded of a little ditty from my childhood:
Hark hark the dogs do bark
The beggars are coming to town
Some in rags and some in jags
And one in a velvet gown.
If you have the time to read about what I find funny on my trip, here’s your chance.
One old lady to another, as I’m tipping my bicycle over to swing one of my 2 lame legs over it: “I believe the old fellow is a little crippled.”
Eighty-eight-year-old veteran in a restaurant where others were discussing my walk across Illinois: “What’s he trying to prove?”
Three young ladies who stopped their car when I was walking west toward Quincy back to my pickup in a very high wind: “How far are you going?”
“I’m walking to Danville.”
“Aren’t you going the wrong way?”
Bluff City’s main businesses seem to be farming, and the Kent Feed and Seed Store of Earl D. Briney. Just before I came into Bluff City, I saw Mr. Briney’s brother’s game bird farm. They have quite a few acres under netting. I can only imagine the frustration of the pair of redtail hawks soaring overhead.
I took a picture of the old general store, now defunct, but it’s still on the camera in the pickup, and I’m in the Havana Library typing this, so I’ll try to load the picture in the right place in the blog later on.
Bluff City General Store
At about mile 78 from Quincy’s Bayview Bridge, Illlinois Route 100 goes into Fulton County, named after river steamboat designer and builder Robert Fulton.
Marbletown
Marbletown is our first town in Fulton County. Charles Chapman’s 1879 History of Fulton County says, “It seems that three distinct races of people occupied this section of country in former ages. One was probably a race of giants, as we find skulls large enough to fit on the outside of the average head of to-day. One skull is of a reddish tinge, like the color of the bone, in which case the head was not well developed; another skull is white: head well developed, and the facial contour correspondingly indicating a higher intelligence. On the farm of Jacob Fisher in the southeastern portion of the township are many relics of the Mound-Builders, such as vessels and fragments of pottery with artistic designs, skulls, skeletons and fragments of skeletons in great abundance. Thousands of these have been carried away by visitors.”
No wonder some of our more important Illinois pre-Columbian archeological sites are listed without specifics or address. What a shame that we have lost so much through such vandalism. Until I read this history, I had never heard of giant skulls being found in Illinois. And where was the respect for the dead? I used to think the Dickson Mounds burial sites should not have been closed to the public, but I’m beginning to understand the thinking that led to that closing.
The same old history has this to say about the founding of Marbletown. “During the autumn of 1857, a saw-mill was erected by C. P. Richardson and Wm. H. Cogshall; of consequence tenement houses were erected; in 1868 Hiram Marble & Son bought the mill, and the people naturally called the collection of houses about the mill "Marbletown." In 1871 a post-office was established here (the first in the township), and Jacob Severns is the present postmaster. Mr. Severns built the first store-house in 1859, and for a year and a half he carried on the mercantile business in a small way. In 1865 he re-commenced the business and since then has had a fair run of custom. Mr. Marble was the second grocer and merchant. Wm. Patchen also began the business last year, but he sold to A. E. Ralston, who was in turn succeeded by S. W. Sloan. The mill was removed several years ago, and business in Marbletown has consequently been diminished.“Mr. Marble lost a son, about of age, in the saw-mill. The main driving belt or shaft caught his clothing and stripped it from his body, crushing him and causing instant death.”
Marbletown is indeed diminished from that era of the late 1800s. There is now one house remaining, and it’s of modern enough construction that it wasn’t part of the original Marbletown by any means.
Enion (pronounced Ī-nen)
Enion, Illinois, was about 3 miles north of Marbletown, farther up Illinois Route 100, about 10 miles south of Lewiston. It is interesting that, when I drove west to Quincy on my route survey a couple of weeks ago, I thought I had somehow missed Enion as I drove along, despite it’s being clearly marked on the Illinois roadmap published by the State of Illinois. There is a big curve in Illinois Route 100, and there is a sign for people going in either direction that announces that one has arrived at Enion. But there is nothing there. That is to say there are no buildings. There are fields of crops, but that is it. Enion is no more.
Havana
Havana, Illinois, located on U.S. 136 and on the Illinois River, is the county seat of Mason County. It was named Havana because the island in the Illinois River where Havana is established used to be shaped like the island of Cuba. The island was actually named Belrose Island, and it was the site of Native American encampments before the white settlers moved in.
Ossian Ross moved to the area in 1822 to claim his bounty land from his service as a major in the War of 1812. He travelled from upstate New York in 1819 with his wife Mary Winnens (related to the Virginia Less), his 6 children, and some of his former military aides. He went down the Ohio River and then up the Wabash. He first farmed for a time near present-day Cairo, not yet established, before coming to the Havana area.
The settlement was first called Ross’s Ferry. Ossian Ross acquired the first license to establish a ferry on the Illinoi River. Louistown, Illinois is named after his eldest son. A younger son, Harvey Lee Ross, wrote a series of newspaper articles about the early days. They were published in the 1880s and 1890s, and then republished in late 1800.
The Illinois Territory was initially set up with only 2 very large counties, Bond and Madison. These were eventually broken up into smaller counties. Residents of Chicago had to come to Havana to vote. For one sheriff’s election (1823), they brought along some residents of Pekin. It turned out they should not have voted on the east side of the Illinois River, and the election had to be repeated.
The earliest history of this area is the 1678 diary of Henri Jetel, who travelled through with Marquette and Joliet on their survey down the Mississippi and the Mississippi River Valley.
I am indebted for much of this information to Nancy Glick, Havana historian and director of the Havana Public Library. She recommended a history book to me: Life at Moscow Bay, by William Louis Fay.
It’s also near the Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge, and the Nature Conservancy's Emiquon Project, a 7,000-acre wetland restoration project, is located across the Illinois River from Havana. Emiquon is one of the largest wetland restoration projects in the country. There are at least 150 important archeological sites close by, and historians estimate about 12,000 years of continuous human habitation. The objective of the project is to restore the incredible biodiversity of the region.
Many bald eagles are seen in the area, especially in March (bald eagles are great fishers, and this area abounds in fish). The Chatauqua National Wildlife Refuge is just 8-and-a-half miles up the Manito Road. The refuge boasts a wheelchair-accessible nature trail, which I may need after this walk. The Refuge is reputed to abound in morel mushrooms about the time of year when the lilacs are in bloom.
During prohibition, Havana was a wide-open river town. Such notorious criminals as Al Capone are said to have enjoyed the local hunting and fishing and to have gambled in local clubs. Also President Truman himself came to Havana to hunt with then Senate majority leader Scott Lucas.
About half a mile off Route 136, on Pearl Street, stands a historic water tower, built during the summer of 1889. The tower is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. This tower has been in continuous use since being built. Yes, it’s still used today as part of the Havana city water system.
Historic Havana Water Tower
I drove across the Illinois River bridge into Havana. After a careful inspection of the U.S. 136 bridge, I decided that neither biking nor walking was appropriate along it’s shoulderless length. So sue me.
At Lake Anderson Greg and Debbie had given me some sun screen lotion, but I decided that I needed some aloe vera to put on the burned area. They told me about a CVS pharmacy, right next to MacDonalds. When I stopped there, I noticed there was a lunch being served in front of the auto parts store, and the men serving it invited me over. It was a customer appreciation lunch, featuring bratwurst and hamburgers. I had a hamburger with cheese, sans bun, and two glasses of lemonade.
I spoke to a World War II veteran, gave him one of my brochures, and thanked him for his service. Then I struck up a conversation with retired mechanic Sandy Showalter, whose pickup license number contains the word “Sandy.” When he heard what I was doing, he invited me to spend the night at his place, a ways out of town. I’ll probably do that. It was a very gracious offer. He also told me that, from his place, there is a shortcut I should take over to Illinois Route 10 that would take me on a country road and keep me off busy U.S. 136. We shall see.
I also met former Army Reservist Larry Mummert of rural Astoria. He told me about his younger brother, Dennis Lynn Mummert, a University of Illinois grad, who used to spend his summers while in college working with the agricultural agents. He later worked on irrigation projects in India, and then, when he was only 23, he took on an International Volunteer Service assignment in Laos, right during the Vietnam War. He developed an inexpensive pump that let farmers reflood their rice paddies so they could raise 2 crops in one year. Then he introduced “miracle wheat,” which yielded a much heavier crop. Finally he introduced modern fertilizers that also increased yields.
Unhappy with his successes, which apparently lessened their influence with the local peasants, the Pathet Lao killed this fine young volunteer and brilliant young American, who only wanted to help others. I honor his memory, though he served as a civilian and not as a military person.
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