Looking Back: Transportation, scary sleigh rides and movies in Charlevoix
CHARLEVOIX — One hundred fifty years ago, the Charlevoix Sentinel of Dec. 21, 1872 was filled with choice items. The paper would accept potatoes in lieu of cash as subscription payment. Oysters were for sale at the Fountain City House hotel, located where the Weathervane Terrace Inn is now. The post office would be open from 10 to 4 on Christmas Day.
“DAILY STAGE. It is expected that a through line of daily stages (stagecoaches) between Traverse City and Charlevoix, will commence running soon.” This regular passenger service would be a boon to those who could not travel south by boat because of a frozen Lake Michigan, and Traverse City was enjoying the benefit of a brand new railroad line to Grand Rapids, hence connected to much of the rest of the country. The times they were achangin’. Charlevoix travelers would have to spend the night in Traverse City, because the train left at 6 in the morning, with arrival in Grand Rapids at 8:45. It was the wonder of the age. Petoskey would get its rail line in 1874, thus even closer to town, again by water or stagecoach. Charlevoix would have to wait another 18 long years before a rail line touched here in 1892, when stagecoaches disappeared from the scene overnight.
Sentinel editor Willard Smith wrote this encomium to the power of newspaper advertising, so different in light of today’s plight of newspapers nationwide that are finding it increasingly difficult to survive with so much once supportive advertising going to the internet. “The potency of newspaper advertising, in the advancement of trade, commerce, and all agencies and enterprises employed for good and the well-being of the human race, is constantly becoming more and more apparent.” Little did Willard, or anyone, know.
The editor loved the English language, and in the three short years he had been with the Sentinel since he brought it into town, at age 19, he had become a master player with words. Here is a selection of what he did with the last names of several of the settlement’s and neighboring county residents: “Why should the people of Charlevoix be much more comfortable this winter than in winters past? Because they are well supplied with Wood and Cole. Why is the town(ship) of Eveline like a drinking saloon? Because they have both Beers and Porter. Why is the town of Norwood like a sabre? Because it has a Hilt-on. Why was Adam, when he came fresh from the hands of his Maker, like one of our Charlevoix merchants? Because he was a New-man. Why is the town(ship) of Marion like the highlands of Scotland? Because it has Burns in several parts.” (A burn in Scotland is a fast-running stream.) Today these might be called Dad jokes. Groan.
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Fifty years later, the Dec. 20, 1922 Charlevoix Courier reported on the close call of a local minister. “DODGE CAR TURNS INTO TOBOGGAN. Rev. Long Takes Wild Coast At Expense of Tires. Rev. C. W. Long, of the Congregational Church of this city, had a rather trying experience last week, while making a business trip by auto to the southern part of the county. In fact, it might have proven not only trying, but disastrous for the parson, had he not kept his presence of mind.
“His car was not equipped with chains, and in attempting to make the steep hill on the Ironton road near the Mitchell farm, the wheels lost traction and commenced to spin, when near the summit of the hill. Mr. Long promptly applied the emergency brake, with the result that his car became a sled and started back down the long declivity with locked wheels.
For fully forty rods (660 feet, longer than two football fields), the parson said he coasted at hair-raising speed, but managed by good luck and the grace of Providence to stay in the track and even negotiate a turn in the road without mishap. The reverend says it was a thriller as an experience, but does not recommend it as a form of winter sport.”
The phrase “to cover the waterfront” means to include everything, to be comprehensive and thorough, but in Charlevoix and Boyne City it could have a different meaning, especially regarding our, and their, city docks. Courier, same issue: “’BRUCE’ BRINGS HOME THE BACON. Also Some Sheep—Two Hogs Get Lost. The steamer ‘Bruce’ brought a cargo of 220 sheep from Beaver Island last Friday, consigned to Boyne City parties. Owing to the severe storm, some forty of the sheep were dead on arrival at this port.
“Sunday, she brought over a load of sixty hogs. The hogs, tougher than the sheep, came through in good shape. After unloading, as they thought, all the hogs on the Boyne City dock, two more of the grunting cargo appeared from behind a water-butt (an outside storage unit used primarily to catch rainwater) where they had been taking a quiet snooze and consented to be led ashore.”
And 50 years ago, in December of 1972, three local men — Tom Merta, executive secretary of the chamber of commerce, accountant Sam Supernaw, and his cousin Bill Supernaw, associated with WJML radio in Petoskey — bought the Palace Theater on Bridge Street, owned by a Petoskey couple who closed it after the summer season. The three men promised to have the theater open every weekend, and every day in the high season as before. Their first offering, on the day after Christmas, was “Cancel My Reservation” with Bob Hope, followed by “Cabaret” with Liza Minelli over New Year’s. Not long after, they remodeled the façade and renamed their new enterprise Cinema III, after their triple involvement. The theater is still with us, now on Antrim Street, so hearty congratulations to Cinema III on its golden anniversary, and may there be 50 more years ahead.
This article originally appeared on The Petoskey News-Review: Looking Back: Transportation, scary sleigh rides and movies in Charlevoix
