Howard Veregin | Updates

Dog 137 (Excerpt)

Howard Veregin — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 17:46:47 -0500

Dog 137 is set in 1917 when the US became involved in the First World War. The protagonist, named Einleff, is a homeless seventeen-year-old. He becomes a participant in chemical warfare experiments at a medical school, in which dogs are being asphyxiated with poison gases being developed for the war.

In this excerpt from the novel, Einleff has his first meeting with Professor Foss, who is leading the experiments. Einleff is accompanied by Eugenia Temple, Foss’s student, who is anxious to have Einleff assist her with the dogs.

Dog 137 is available at a pre-publication discount price here.

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The Soul of Jack Blackman

Howard Veregin — Tue, 27 Jan 2026 22:12:46 -0500

A short story set in 1918. Callista Bishop, a patient at a small, rural psychiatric institute, has suffered a breakdown. Her fiancé, Jack Blackman, a soldier, is receiving psychiatric treatment at a military hospital overseas. Something is seriously wrong with Jack. Callista wonders, "Can the soul become disoriented? Perhaps get lost completely?"

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Secrets of Science Hall, part one

Howard Veregin — Tue, 21 Jan 2025 21:21:10 -0500

A history of the building’s unsavory reputation and abandoned sixth floor.

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Secrets of Science Hall, part two

Howard Veregin — Tue, 21 Jan 2025 21:22:05 -0500

Syphilis, sleeping sickness, and the casualties of a hunt for a cure.

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Secrets of Science Hall, part three

Howard Veregin — Tue, 21 Jan 2025 21:23:33 -0500

Sleeping sickness research at the University of Wisconsin and its ties to colonialism.

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The Dogs of Science Hall

Howard Veregin — Tue, 21 Jan 2025 21:14:29 -0500

World War I-era poison gas testing at UW-Madison leaves a legacy at once extensive and obscure.

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Grand Canyon Relief Map Gets a Facelift

Howard Veregin — Sun, 26 Jan 2025 22:48:41 -0500

Science Hall's oldest relief model undergoes a painstaking conservation effort, healing the ravages of time.

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Selected Writings on Cartography

Howard Veregin — Mon, 27 Jan 2025 19:31:08 -0500

Howard Veregin, Wisconsin State Cartographer, University of Wisconsin–Madison

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Oddsconsin 68 – Wisconsin State Prison

Howard Veregin — Sat, 18 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Wisconsin began building its first state prison at the time it abolished capital punishment in 1853. The two events are causally linked. Without capital punishment, a prison became a necessity, since local jails were not designed for long-term confinement of criminals who would otherwise have been executed. After the 1851 hanging of John McCaffary, convicted of murdering his wife Bridget, no further executions were carried out under the authority of the state. Going forward, the state prison would house those convicted of violent crimes. (See Oddsconsin 55)

Wisconsin State Prison – or, as it is now known, Waupun Correctional Institution – is located in a residential district in the City of Waupun (Dodge County). The prison faces Madison Street, where the prison’s long front wall extends for hundreds of feet. High walls around the rest of the compound form a rectangular area that is almost forty acres in size.

The choice of Waupun as the location for the prison was a matter of heated debate in the middle of the nineteenth century. The other main contender was Madison, although Fort Winnebago – unused by the military since 1845 – was also briefly considered. In the 1851 legislative session, various bills were introduced advocating for one location or another. [1]

One of the drawbacks of Madison was the cost of acquiring property, proving that some things have not changed in almost two hundred years. It was estimated that a prison in Madison would cost over a million dollars, while only three thousand had been initially allocated. [1]

Eventually, a prison commission was formed to deal with site selection. In 1852, the commission submitted a report to the governor recommending Waupun. The city had everything thought necessary – an existing community, access to railroads, a source of water, and supplies of both lumber and limestone for building the prison itself. Construction of a temporary prison in Waupun began in late 1852. [1]

The decision was met with anger by some, who suggested corruption may have had a hand in the process. Why tempers ran so hot is hard to say. Perhaps there was genuine concern about choosing a location so far from Madison. Perhaps there were other motives. Nevertheless, and in part because the temporary prison was already under construction at Waupun, the decision was final and construction of the permanent facility soon began.

The oldest part of Wisconsin State Prison is the South Cell House, constructed in 1854-55. It connects to the prison’s Main Building, completed in 1858 to house administrative offices. The North Cell House, built in the 1860s, connects to the Main Building on its north side. [2] These three buildings – still in use today – form a long façade facing Madison Street. [3]

Over the decades, numerous modifications and additions have been made to the prison, including a kitchen (1894), additional cell houses (1906-14), a dining room attached to the kitchen (1913-14), a hospital (1940s), bath houses (1950s), a chapel (1960s), a solitary confinement facility (1960s) and various workshops and industrial outbuildings on the west side of the prison complex (through the 1950s). The latter were built to provide work for prisoners. [2] The prison also housed female prisoners (in a separate building) until 1933, when they were moved to the Wisconsin Industrial Home for Women in Taycheedah. [4]

Guard towers punctuate the tall wall that surrounds the prison complex. The original prison wall, twenty-four feet high and buried to a depth of eight feet under the ground, was built in 1858-61. The ornate front wall on Madison Street dates to the 1850s. [4] This wall is eighteen feet high and consists of a multitude of stone arches and pillars with iron gates. [2]

Early photos and views capture the appearance of the prison in ways that words cannot:

1865 elevated view of Wisconsin State Prison

1915 aerial view of Wisconsin State Prison

Exterior view of Waupun State Prison

Entrance to the prison, 1907

Prison front yard, 1920

The crenelated parapets of the Main Building are reminiscent of something out of a Dickens novel. It looks every bit the Victorian-era building that it is. However, the design of the prison was actually quite progressive for its time. It was modeled on the so-called Auburn style, in which prisoners were assigned to their own cells rather than dungeons, underground chambers or multi-prisoner cells.

The Auburn system arose at the same time and with some of the same motives that lay behind asylums, workhouses and poor houses. They were inspired by progressive, humanitarian influences. These institutions sought not just to incarcerate but to correct and mold inmates through honest work and moral instruction. These goals were met with varying levels of success in different locations.

The Auburn system was based on the design of Auburn Prison in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. Opened in 1818, the prison’s defining feature was its tiers of cells stacked on top of each other and overlooking an open gallery. Access to the cells was via metal stairs and catwalks, interspersed with locked metal doors. Wisconsin State Prison followed the Auburn design, as seen in this 1910 photo.

Auburn was also the model for New York’s infamous Sing Sing Prison (aka “The Big House”) [5], the setting of almost every 1930s prison film. The prison interior, with its tiers of cells, is an iconic look. You can almost imagine Edward G. Robinson sneaking up behind a prison guard with a gun carved out of a bar of soap. [6]

Auburn Prison also has the distinction of being the first prison to use the electric chair as a means of execution. (Unlike Wisconsin, New York had not banned capital punishment.) Like the Auburn style itself, the electric chair was thought to be more humanitarian than hanging. But its initial use in 1890 on convicted killer William Kemmler was a shocking display of inhumanity. [7]

Today, Waupun Correctional Institution is a maximum-security facility. Officially, it houses over 800 inmates, all male, almost 90 percent of whom were convicted of a violent crime. [8] Life in the prison was obviously never very pleasant, but its age and antiquated design must add an extra layer of misery and despair. (See this account for an insider’s perspective.)

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Sources and Notes

[1] Daniel Belczak, Blood for Blood Must Fall. PhD Dissertation, Department of History, Case Western Reserve University, 2021.

[2] National Register of Historic Places, Wisconsin State Prison Historic District, 1991. https://npgallery.nps.gov/AssetDetail/NRIS/91001994

[3] It’s hard not to notice the same symmetry in the three oldest buildings on the UW-Madison campus – South and North Hall, both originally dormitories, and Bascom Hall, the original administrative center of the university, which sits between the two dormitories.

[4] Department of Corrections, Waupun Correctional Institution. https://doc.wi.gov/Pages/OffenderInformation/AdultInstitutions/WaupunCorrectionalInstitution.aspx

[5] Sing Sing Prison Museum, History of Sing Sing Prison. https://www.singsingprisonmuseum.org/singsinghistory.html

[6] This scene apparently never actually occurred in a 1930s prison film. However, the final scene of 1938’s Angels with Dirty Faces, where Rocky Sullivan (played by James Cagney) walks to the Death House, was filmed at Sing Sing.

[7] See this description of the execution. The electric chair was adopted following a series of public events conducted by Thomas Edison. Edison was a proponent of DC (direct current) while his nemesis, Nikola Tesla, advocated for AC (alternating current). (Ironically, the Tesla automobile runs on DC.) In the late nineteenth century, Edison electrocuted dogs, calves and horses in public exhibitions to show the danger of Tesla’s AC. The New York correctional system was impressed with what they saw. There’s another Wisconsin connection here, in Appleton’s Vulcan Street Electric Plant. Opened in 1882, it was one of the first commercial hydroelectric plants to utilize Edison’s DC generators. (See Oddsconsin 13.)

[8] Department of Corrections, Waupun Correctional Institution Fact Sheet. https://doc.wi.gov/DataResearch/DataAndReports/WCIInstitutionalFactSheet.pdf

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Oddsconsin 67 – How Wisconsin Counties Got Their Names (Solution to Reader Challenge)

Howard Veregin — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

All we want are the facts, ma'am.
- Sgt. Joe Friday, Dragnet

The facts are sometimes hard to find when it comes to the origins of Wisconsin county names. This is especially true for names of Native American origin, where scholars never seem to agree on the interpretation. But even names that come from French trappers and traders have been obscured by history. The only county names whose origins are certain are those named after presidents, governors and other officials, where the historical record is clear.

A full explanation of Wisconsin county name origins would take multiple Oddsconsin posts, so I have presented the barest of facts. Readers can consult the sources I used – or other sources they are aware of – for more details.

Each county below is followed by its date of formation and a brief explanation of the origin of its name. Note that many counties, especially in the north, have had their boundaries redrawn numerous times over the years.

To tabulate your score for the Reader Challenge, add up the correct answers in your table (download it here if you did not do so last week) and compare it to the table of answers below (here’s a link to download this table). Scoring instructions are on the sheet.

The map that accompanies this post shows how the sources of county names vary across the state. Some categories were merged to simplify the map. There are some obvious patterns present, some of which may invite more questions than answers.

Adams (1848) For John Quincy Adams, sixth US President (1825-29) or his father, John Adams, second US President (1797-1801).

Ashland (1860) After Henry Clay’s estate in Lexington, Kentucky. Clay served in the US Congress and Senate in the early nineteenth century.

Barron (1859) Originally named Dallas County, but renamed Barron in 1869 for Henry Danforth Barron, postmaster, judge, member of the State Assembly, state senator and a regent of the University of Wisconsin.

Bayfield (1845) Originally named La Pointe County, but renamed Bayfield in 1866 for Henry W. Bayfield, an admiral in the British Royal Navy who surveyed the Lake Superior shoreline in the 1820s.

Brown (1818). For General Jacob Jennings Brown, who fought against the British in the War of 1812.

Buffalo (1853) After the Buffalo River, known to French explorers as Riviére des Boeufs (River of Oxen or River of Beef). The name refers to the presence of buffalo (bison) in the area when European explorers first arrived.

Burnett (1856) For Thomas Pendleton Burnett, lawyer, Indian Agent, and member of the Wisconsin Territorial Legislature and Wisconsin Constitutional Convention.

Calumet (1836) Apparently a French word for peace pipe.

Chippewa (1845) After the Chippewa River, in turn named for the Chippewa (Ojibwe) Tribe.

Clark (1853) For George Rogers Clark, a Revolutionary War figure on the western frontier.

Columbia (1846) For Christopher Columbus or the Columbia River in Oregon.

Crawford (1818) After Fort Crawford, built in 1816 at Prairie du Chien, which was named for William Harris Crawford, US senator (Georgia) and cabinet secretary under Presidents James Madison and James Monroe.

Dane (1836) For Nathan Dane, architect of the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, which created the Northwest Territory out of which Wisconsin was formed.

Dodge (1836) For Henry Dodge, first Governor of Wisconsin Territory and military leader who played a prominent role in the Black Hawk War of 1832.

Door (1851) After Death’s Door, the dangerous passage between Washington Island and the tip of the Door County peninsula. The name has both Native American and French associations. (See Oddsconsin 44.)

Douglas (1854) For Stephen A. Douglas, US senator (Illinois) who lost to Abraham Lincoln in the 1860 presidential race.

Dunn (1854) For Charles Dunn, first Chief Justice of Wisconsin Territory.

Eau Claire (1856) After the Eau Claire River, French for clear water, itself probably a translation from Ojibwe.

Florence (1882) For Florence Hulst, wife of Nelson Hulst, one of the first to notice the deposits of iron ore in the area.

Fond du Lac (1836) French for foot of the lake (Lake Winnebago).

Forest (1885) After the forests that covered the area.

Grant (1837) After the Grant River, which was apparently named after a European trader and trapper.

Green (1837) Possibly for Nathanael Greene, Revolutionary War figure, or for Greene County, Pennsylvania (which is also named for Nathanael Greene).

Green Lake (1858) From the French Lac Vert or Lac du Verde, a translation of the Ho-Chunk name for the lake.

Iowa (1829) After the Iowa River, itself named after the Iowa Tribe.

Iron (1893) For the abundance of iron ore in the area.

Jackson (1853) For Andrew Jackson, seventh US President (1829-37).

Jefferson (1836) For Thomas Jefferson, third US President (1801-09) or for Jefferson County, New York (also named after Thomas Jefferson).

Juneau (1857) For Solomon Juneau, a French-Canadian trader living in the area.

Kenosha (1850) From the Ojibwe word for pike (the fish) found in creeks in the area.

Kewaunee (1852) After the Kewaunee River, from the Algonquian name. May refer to the name of a Potawatomi individual variously translated as prairie chicken, prairie hen or a river crossing.

La Crosse (1851) Apparently named by French traders and trappers after the sport of lacrosse played by the Ho-Chunk people. The French evidently saw a similarity between the hooked lacrosse stick and the cross carried by a bishop.

Lafayette (1846) For the Marquis de Lafayette, a French nobleman who served in the American Revolutionary War.

Langlade (1879) For Charles de Langlade, who established a trading post at Green Bay in the eighteenth century and participated in the French and Indian War.

Lincoln (1874) For Abraham Lincoln, sixteenth US President (1860-65).

Manitowoc (1836) After the Manitowoc River and probably derived from an Algonquian word related to a spirit or deity.

Marathon (1850) Thought to refer to a battlefield in ancient Greece where the Athenians defeated the Persians in 490 BCE.

Marinette (1879) For Marinette Chevalier, a métisse woman who settled in the area in the early nineteenth century. The name may be associated with Marie Antoinette, the French Queen beheaded in 1793.

Marquette (1836) For Father Jacques Marquette, Jesuit priest, missionary and explorer who was one of the first Europeans to explore the area in the seventeenth century.

Menominee (1961) Name given to the Menominee people by the Ojibwe, meaning people of the wild rice.

Milwaukee (1834) After the Milwaukee River, from a word that may be from Potawatomi, Ojibwe, Menominee, Algonquian or another language and meaning good land, gathering place, or possibly something else.

Monroe (1854) For James Monroe, fifth US President (1817-25).

Oconto (1851) After after the Oconto River, itself from a Menominee word for pike, pickerel, bass, paddle, red ground, ambush spot, or something else.

Oneida (1885) For the Oneida Nation, part of the Iroquois Confederation who relocated from New York state after the Revolutionary War.

Outagamie (1851) From the name given by the Ojibwe to the Fox Tribe, translated as people on the other shore.

Ozaukee (1853) From a name given by the Ojibwe to the Sauk Tribe, usually translated as people of river mouth.

Pepin (1858) After Lake Pepin, itself named as early as the seventeenth century after a French-Canadian settler family or possibly a French King.

Pierce (1853) For Franklin Pierce, fourteenth US President (1853-57).

Polk (1853) For James Polk, eleventh US President (1845-49).

Portage (1836) From the French referring to the overland trail between the Fox and Wisconsin Rivers, where canoes and cargo had to be carried overland.

Price (1879) For William T. Price, lumber baron, lawyer, member of the State Assembly, state senator and member of the US Congress.

Racine (1836) After the Root River, known in French as Rivière Racine, itself probably from a Potawatomi word for root.

Richland (1842) Possibly a reference to Richland County, Iowa, or indicative of the rich soil of the area.

Rock (1836) After the Rock River, an English translation of a Miami or Illinois name.

Rusk (1901) Originally named Gates County after a wealthy land speculator, but renamed in 1905 for Jeremiah McLain Rusk, a Civil War figure, Wisconsin Governor, member of the US Congress and cabinet secretary.

St. Croix (1840) After the St. Croix River, named by early French explorers and meaning “holy cross.” The name may refer to a rock formation that resembles a cross, a sign of a cross seen in the water by missionaries, the cross-like shape of the junction of the Mississippi and St. Croix Rivers, a French trader named St. Croix, or Fort St. Croix (built by the French in the 1680s).

Sauk (1840) From a name given by the Ojibwe to the Sauk Tribe, usually translated as people of river mouth. (See Ozaukee County).

Sawyer (1883) For Philetus Sawyer, a nineteenth-century lumber baron, businessman and member of the State Assembly, US Congress and US Senate.

Shawano (1853) Adaptation of a Menominee name for a lake in the area, or named after a Menominee individual.

Sheboygan (1836) After the Sheboygan River, from the Ojibwe or Menominee language. The meaning of the name is uncertain.

Taylor (1875) For William R. Taylor, Governor of Wisconsin when the county was formed.

Trempealeau (1854) English adaptation of French la montagne qui trempe à l’eau (the mountain that stands in water), itself a translation from the Ho-Chunk and referring to an island that rises out of Lake Pepin.

Vernon (1851) Originally named Bad Axe County but changed to Vernon in the 1860s for settler George Vernon Weeks, after Vernon County, New York, or for Mt. Vernon, George Washington’s estate in Virginia.

Vilas (1893) For William Freeman Vilas, a nineteenth century politician, lumber baron, Civil War officer, US Postmaster General, cabinet member, US senator and University of Wisconsin benefactor.

Walworth (1838) For Reuben Hyde Walworth, at the time Chancellor (Chief Justice) of New York state, abolitionist and member of the American Temperance Union.

Washburn (1883) Named for Cadwallader Colden Washburn, lawyer, Wisconsin Governor, member of congress and Civil War officer.

Washington (1836) For George Washington, first US President.

Waukesha (1846) Probably derived from a Potawatomi or Ojibwe name for Fox River.

Waupaca (1851) After the Waupaca River, likely a Potawatomi word that has been interpreted to mean many different things.

Waushara (1851) Adaptation of a Ho-Chunk word for fox or may refer to a Ho-Chunk individual.

Winnebago (1840) A name used by the Potawatomi or Ojibwe to refer to the Ho-Chunk people. Not used by the Ho-Chunk to refer to themselves.

Wood (1856) For Jospeh Wood, postmaster, coroner, clerk of court, judge, mayor, hotel proprietor, store owner and member of the State Assembly.

Sources

Robert Gard & Jerry Apps, The Romance of Wisconsin Place Names, Wisconsin Historical Society Press, 2015.

Edward Callary, The Place Names of Wisconsin, University of Wisconsin Press, 2016.

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Oddsconsin 66 – Reader Challenge!

Howard Veregin — Sat, 4 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This week’s post is a bit of a departure from the standard fare. It’s a reader challenge, testing your knowledge of the origins of Wisconsin county names.

Below is an outline map of Wisconsin counties (courtesy of the State Cartographer’s Office).

The columns in the table represent one possible source for each county name. The categories are:

1. Named after a former US president

2. Named after a prominent citizen [See note 1]

3. Named after an early European explorer, trapper, trader or settler

4. Native American name or association [See note 2]

5. From the French language

6. Named after women

7. Named after or associated with a local physical feature [See note 3]

8. Named after natural resources in the area [See note 4]

9. Named after a location outside of Wisconsin [See note 5]

Click here to download a copy of the table and fill in your answers. Note that for some counties, more than one column might be applicable.

I recommend you use your knowledge and powers of deductive thinking for the challenge. Google and AI are too easy and generate erroneous results. I will use two standard, authoritative texts on the subject to provide answers in next week’s Oddsconsin, so that you can check your results.

Good luck!

Notes

[1] Includes people who have served in one or more of the following roles during their careers: US senator, US cabinet member, member of US congress, member of constitutional convention, state governor/chancellor, state senator, state assembly member, judge, lawyer, mayor, postmaster, newspaper editor, register of deeds, army general and marquis. Excludes former US presidents.

[2] Includes Anglicized versions of Native American place names as well as English or French place names that have a Native American association.

[3] Physical features include things like lakes, rivers, rock formations, etc. May refer to an original Native American name for such a feature.

[4] Includes vegetation, minerals, animals, etc.

[5] Includes historic sites, cities in other countries and counties in other states.

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Oddsconsin 65 – Zion Old Stone Church

Howard Veregin — Sat, 28 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

It’s a common occurrence in Wisconsin. You’re driving along a small country road, still miles from your destination, when around the next bend in the road you find a historic church standing alone next to a field of corn or a herd of dairy cattle. There are hundreds of rural churches in the state, many still in use and others closed and shuttered.

Zion Old Stone Church sits along Amity Road, a few miles north of Alto, an unincorporated community in the Town of Alto in Fond du Lac County. Fond du Lac is a French phrase meaning “foot of the lake” (Lake Winnebago). But in the nineteenth century, this part of the county was heavily settled by people from the Netherlands. In fact, the name Alto may be from the Dutch “halte” meaning a stop or resting place. [1]

The church, built in 1858, was originally called Zion Congregational Church. The congregation was organized in 1847, before Wisconsin was even a state. The church is small (42 x 30 feet) and built of rusticated limestone. In the Greek Revival style popular in the mid-nineteenth century, it features a pediment – a triangular gable formed above the cornice and frieze – over the main entranceway. Pilasters (rectangular columns) flank the recessed front double doors and support an elaborate entablature (horizontal molding) over the doors. There are only four windows, two on each side of the building, covered in dark shutters.

St. Augustine Church in New Diggings in Lafayette County (Oddsconsin 36) is another example of a historic church built in the Greek Revival style.

Zion Church is a simple structure, but significant enough to be listed in the National Register of Historic Places for its architecture. [2] It’s one of a handful of remaining pioneer-era churches in the Greek Revival style. The fact that it was built from limestone – probably local – is also significant, since there are no other examples of early limestone construction of this type in the Town of Alto.

The National Register nomination indicates that the interior of the church has been largely untouched, with no modern heating, electricity or plumbing. There are wood floors, original wood pews, an old stove and lectern, and iron holders on the walls for lamps. Beside the church is Oak Mound Cemetery, with a large wrought iron sign. It contains the graves of some of the church’s founders dating back to the 1860s. [2] Visitors should be aware that the church and cemetery are on property owned by the Netherlands Reformed Zion Church. The church and cemetery sign, however, are clearly visible from the public road.

Why is the church here? In more religious times, European immigrants established churches in the communities they settled in. Today, these churches speak of a time when rural residents were simultaneously more isolated but also more numerous. Rural depopulation and modern transportation make these churches seem out of place, but even one hundred years ago this was not the case.

In the nineteenth century, many of the Dutch settlers in the Town of Alto were “Seceders” – people who participated in the 1834 secession from the Dutch Reformed Church when it became the official state church of the Netherlands. Zion Church was apparently formed by families who were strongly opposed to efforts to reestablish a Dutch Reformed Church congregation in the area. [2]

The evolutionary linkages between Protestant denominations are amazingly complex but, with the risk of getting some important fact wrong, the story is as follows.

The Dutch Reformed Church was a protestant denomination that grew in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in the wake of Lutheranism. The main leader of the reform movement was John Calvin, a French/Swiss theologian. Other denominations that emerged at this time included the Presbyterian and Congregational Churches. What all of these churches had in common was a rejection of the authority of the Roman Catholic pope as a special emissary of God. Instead, these churches emphasized the teachings of the Bible and organized themselves into semi-autonomous congregations that established doctrine and managed affairs.

There are subtle differences between denominations. For example, both the Congregational and Presbyterian Churches rejected the hierarchical structure of the Catholic Church, but while the Presbyterian Church recognized hierarchical authority within congregational bodies (synods, or elected assemblies of church leaders or elders), the Congregational Church was based on the autonomy of each congregation. The Congregational Church, which evolved in England in the sixteenth century, is usually associated with the Puritans.

The Dutch Reformed Church followed a Presbyterian style of governance involving elected elders from each congregation. [3][4] But Zion Church was founded by “Seceders.” In the Netherlands, Seceders were those who objected to the transformation of the Dutch Reformed Church into the official state church in the early nineteenth century. As a result of this transformation, the Dutch king had ultimate authority over doctrine and church affairs. Seceders believed such matters should rest with the congregation instead. [5]

Due in part to this conflict, Seceders dominated the waves of Dutch immigration to the US in the nineteenth century. At a time when barely one percent of the Dutch population were Seceders, some 13,000 of them left the Netherlands between 1845 and 1880. Between 1846 and 1849, they comprised 65 percent of all Dutch emigrants. [6]

In the Midwest, large Dutch colonies formed in Michigan, Iowa and Wisconsin at this time. The Seceder movement led to the formation of the Christian Reformed Church of North America, which had its roots in Michigan in 1857. Seceders were wary of synods and elites, but tension grew between them and other Dutch settlers who favored integration with the Reformed Dutch Church, especially given the uncertainties of life in America.

The fact that Zion Church was founded as a Congregational Church, rather than under the Christian Reformed Church of North America, is a bit of a puzzle. It may have been due to the struggles of the Seceder movement in areas with scattered population, or it may have been due to dissatisfaction with the movement itself. Congregationalism offered the most democratic style of governance of all the denominations, and perhaps this was attractive to the founders of Zion Church.

Zion Church was only able to support a pastor until the 1880s, due to declining population and (possibly) cultural assimilation. By holding annual church services, the property has been able to retain its religious, tax-exempt status, which it holds to this day. [2]

Despite the short duration of European settlement in Wisconsin – especially compared to the thousands of years of Native American occupation of the area – European religion and cultural practices have left their mark on the state’s landscape. Zion Church is just one example.

Sources and Notes

[1] Edward Callary, Place Names of Wisconsin. University of Wisconsin Press, 2016.

[2] National Register of Historic Places, Zion Congregational Church. https://npgallery.nps.gov/NRHP/GetAsset/NRHP/05001579_text

[3] EBSCO, Dutch Reformed Church. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/religion-and-philosophy/dutch-reformed-church

[4] Reformed Church in America, History of the RCA. https://www.rca.org/about/history/

[5] The Standard Bearer, A Brief History of the Afscheiding (1), Vol. 84, Issue 2, 2008. https://sb.rfpa.org/a-brief-history-of-the-afscheiding-1/

[6] Robert P. Sweirenga, True Brothers: The Netherlands Origins of the Christian Reformed Church in North America. https://www.swierenga.com/Kampen_pap.html

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Oddsconsin 64 – Secrets of Fort McCoy (Part 2)

Howard Veregin — Sat, 21 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Before it housed a World War II Prisoner of War camp, Fort McCoy had a more notorious facility on site – an internment camp for “enemy aliens” deemed to be a threat to national security and incarcerated without due process.

The internment camp period in US history is well documented. In February 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 that authorized the forcible removal of selected civilians from militarized zones on the west coast of the United States. Arrests and evacuations began a month later and were targeted almost exclusively at those of Japanese descent. That same month, Congress reified Roosevelt’s Executive Order by making its violation a punishable offense. [1]

Approximately 122,000 men, women and children – over one-half of whom were US citizens – were eventually forced into internment camps, most of which were located in remote areas of the country. [1] Incarceration brought not only loss of freedom, but also loss of homes, businesses, possessions, community stature and reputations. Nor was the US alone in its actions. There were similar internment camps in Canada, while in Mexico, the government moved quickly to evacuate people of Japanese heritage from restricted zones along the coasts and borders. [2, 3]

The precipitating event for internment was the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941. Following the Hawaii Governor’s declaration of martial rule, people deemed suspicious – perhaps due only to an off-hand comment overheard by a neighbor – were arrested and detained.

Fort McCoy was one of the first internment camps of the war, operating from January 1942 to May 1943. The first prisoners to arrive were mainly from Honolulu and the surrounding area, including 173 people of Japanese descent, 36 of German descent and two of Italian descent. Some were prominent citizens, including physicians and engineers, and others were Hawaiian business owners. Many were naturalized citizens who had been targeted for their ancestry and supposed ties to the enemy, and at least one was a US citizen by birth. By early 1942, the compound held approximately two hundred people. [4]

Ironically, Fort McCoy was also a base for Japanese-American infantry from Hawaii – the 100th Infantry Battalion – almost 1,500 of them. [5] They trained at Fort McCoy from the summer of 1942 until January of 1943, when the internment camp was still in use. One wonders what they made of it, or if they even knew.

The internment camp at Fort McCoy was housed in the old Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) structures south of the railway, in Camp Robinson or “Old Fort McCoy.” The CCC buildings were surrounded by tall fences topped with barbed wire, sunken logs to prevent tunneling, a circuit of iron mesh and seven guard towers. [4]

Attempts by the prisoners to receive justice for the most part fell on deaf ears. Lawrence T. Kagawa, a US citizen (by birth) imprisoned at Fort McCoy, wrote to Samuel W. King, his Congressional Representative, in March 1942, appealing for some explanation of his supposed crimes. [6] And while some German prisoners were eventually released by the War Department, it appears those of Japanese descent were treated much differently. [4]

The paranoia that erupted in 1942, especially over Japanese-Americans, has the symptoms of a mass psychosis. Newspapers from the era report on purges of Japanese-Americans from state and city payrolls, raids on Japanese neighborhoods, arrests, mass evacuations and the removal of Japanese-American children from schools. The panic was spurred on by inflammatory comments from mayors, county boards, civil defense councils, military officials and even the California Attorney General (Earl Warren). Tellingly, some of the newspaper articles refer to the internment camps as “concentration camps.” [7]

By mid-1942, Fort McCoy was gearing up for a new role housing Prisoners of War (POWs). The internment camp transitioned to a temporary processing station to facilitate the transfer of detainees to permanent camps elsewhere in the country. The internment camp, whose population dropped to less than fifty when it closed in 1943, then became POW Compound A. (see Oddsconsin 63).

Signage in Fort McCoy’s Commemorative Area deflects blame for this shameful period in the country’s history, stating only that Fort McCoy had a role “in housing relocated Japanese-Americans from the West Coast.” Presumably, in the Army’s view, they were simply doing their job keeping the prisoners alive, not determining whether they should have been there in the first place.

In 1983, Congress estimated that, over the course of their confinement, the prisoners lost property worth $1.3 billion and income of $2.7 billion [1]. In 1988, the US government officially acknowledged the injustice and unconstitutionality of its actions and gave $20,000 to each person who was incarcerated.

It’s easy to judge from eighty years in the future, and America was at war, but the actions – despite their approval all the way up to the White House – clearly violated the prisoners’ civil rights, not to mention the US Constitution’s strictures against unwarranted search and seizure and the doctrines of probable cause and due process. There were no trials or evidence presented, prisoners could not appeal their detentions and most lost everything they owned.

Sources and Notes

[1] National Archives, Executive Order 9066: Resulting in Japanese-American Incarceration (1942). https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/executive-order-9066

[2] Legislative Assembly of British Columbia, 1939 to 1945 - World War II and the Japanese Internment. https://www.leg.bc.ca/learn/discover-your-legislature/1939-to-1945-world-war-ii-and-the-japanese-internment

[3] Mexico Speeds Shift of Coastal Japanese, New York Times, April 17, 1942, p. 13.

[4] Schmidt, A. R., C. L. Baxter & K. R. Schacht, Historic Context for the WWII Internment and Prisoner-of-War (POW) Compound at Fort McCoy, Wisconsin. The US Army Engineer Research and Development Center (ERDC), 2023. https://erdclibrary.on.worldcat.org/discovery

[5] Signage at Fort McCoy Commemorative Area.

[6] Wisconsin Historical Society, WWII Japanese Internment Camps. https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/pdfs/lessons/EDU-LessonPlans-JapaneseCamps-Kagawa.pdf

[7] See for example: West Coast Moves to Oust Japanese, New York Times, Jan. 29, 1942, p. 12; West Coast Widen Martial Law Call, New York Times, Feb. 12, 1942, p. 10; Coast Raids Trap 225 Nazis, Japanese, New York Times, April 14, 1942; Coast Raids Trap More Japanese, New York Times, April 28, 1942, p. 12.

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Oddsconsin 63 - Secrets of Fort McCoy

Howard Veregin — Sat, 14 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

It’s not widely known that Fort McCoy (Monroe County) served as a Prisoner of War (POW) camp in World War II. Soldiers from Japan, Germany, Italy, Poland and Korea were imprisoned here between 1942 and 1945, with the total number of POWs reaching almost 3,000. By some accounts, it was the largest Japanese POW camp in the country.

Before World War II, Fort McCoy was not as developed as it is today. The area came under government control in 1909, when the War Department purchased over 14,000 acres, including some land owned by Robert McCoy, a veteran of the Spanish-American War who advocated developing a military training facility in the area. The tract purchased by the War Department was cut in half by a railroad line, with the north half being called Camp Emory Upton and the south half Camp Robinson.

In the 1930s, Camp Robinson served mainly as a Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) camp. The CCC was a depression-era work relief program for unemployed single men and was under the control of the US Army. Camp Robinson housed a supply depot and administrative outpost for CCC programs in rural Wisconsin. There were over thirty CCC buildings on site in a 20-acre enclosure.

New Army facilities were built at Fort McCoy soon after World War II began in late 1941, mostly in northern Camp Emory Upton. The site became a training base for infantry, artillery, railhead (deployment of equipment by rail), ordnance (supply and storage of ammunition), tank destroyer and engineer troops. In 1942, the Army built over two hundred new administrative facilities at Fort McCoy, plus eleven chapels, almost two hundred mess halls, a 1,800-bed hospital and a new cantonment area where soldiers lived and worked. A total of 1,500 buildings were constructed to house, train and support 35,000-40,000 soldiers. The base was also home to a Limited Service School to train soldiers with disabilities. Members of the Women’s Army Corps (WACs) served at Fort McCoy and there was an induction and basic training center for Army nurses.

The first POW at Fort McCoy was also the first POW captured by the US during World War II. Kazou Sakamaki – an ensign in the Japanese Navy – was captured shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941, when his mini-submarine was detected by a US patrol.

For the time being, however, the POW population at Fort McCoy remained small and comprised mainly German prisoners captured in Europe. The US began receiving German POWs from Great Britain in 1942, in an effort to relieve crowding and provide greater prisoner security. Sites were chosen at US military bases, while special camps were later built in the interior of the country.

At Fort McCoy, the POW compound was located in old CCC facilities in Camp Robinson south of the railroad, an area that came to be known as Old Fort McCoy. The CCC buildings were converted to barracks for the prisoners. Additional facilities included mess halls, kitchens, latrines, showers and recreation areas. The compound was surrounded by barbed wire and watch towers, where Military Police patrolled on foot with dogs.

As late as the summer of 1944, only about six hundred POWs were confined at Fort McCoy, about half of whom were German. They were located in “Compound A” – the first of four compounds eventually built for POWs. (To see what Compound A looks like today, enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.973485, -90.737217)

The situation changed dramatically when the War Department decided that Fort McCoy would be the main detention station for Japanese POWs captured in the Pacific war. By the summer of 1944, thousands of Japanese POWs began to flow in. Additional facilities were needed at Fort McCoy, and Lieutenant Colonel Horace Rogers, who oversaw the POW program, began to build them. The first of these made use of a cluster of former CCC and World War I-era buildings to the east of Compound A. This new compound, known as Compound C, held the influx of Japanese POWs. (To see what Compound C looks like today, enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.978990, -90.726830)

Eventually, about 2,500 Japanese POWs were incarcerated at Fort McCoy, by far the largest nationality of all prisoners on site. But more prisoners were to come. After the arrival of Korean POWs in late 1944, Rogers built a third compound, compound B, adjacent to Compound C. Here the POWs lived in tents, at least initially. (To see what Compound B looks like today, enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.979243, -90.723171) At about the same time, a fourth and final compound – Compound D – was built for Japanese officers.

With a population of about 300, German POWs were the largest nationality at Fort McCoy until the summer of 1944, when the influx of Japanese POWs began. Germans again became the majority in October 1945 when the War Department removed the Japanese POWs from Fort McCoy.

The exact number of POWs held at Fort McCoy is difficult to know for certain, due to incomplete records and the movement of prisoners to and from other camps in the country. Some estimates of the number of German POWs at Fort McCoy are as high as five thousand, but this seems improbable as the POW compounds were not large enough to hold that many prisoners at once.

If it’s strange to imagine a POW camp in the heart of Wisconsin, it’s even stranger to learn that at least thirty-eight branch camps were established across the state in twenty-five different counties. The branch camps were really agricultural labor camps, organized to help Wisconsin farmers deal with the labor shortage caused by the war. The POWs worked alongside local residents, picking and processing crops, tending to nurseries and dairies, or working in canning factories. For this, they were paid 80 cents per day. Japanese prisoners did not take part in these activities, as the majority of the workers were German. Oddsconsin 35 covers these branch camps in more detail.

Stranger still is the fact that some POWs never made it home alive from Wisconsin. There were fourteen POW deaths at Fort McCoy – eleven Japanese, two German and one Korean. Causes of death were: Tuberculosis, 7; Work accidents, 2; Suicide, 1; Accidental explosion, 1; Nephritis (inflammation of the kidneys), 1; Carcinoma, 1; and Coronary thrombosis (blood clot in the coronary artery), 1.

Archaeological research indicates that the deceased Japanese POWs were cremated at Camp McCoy or in Milwaukee, and were repatriated to Japan in the 1950s. On the other hand, the German and Korean POWs were buried at Camp McCoy in a small cemetery. After the war, their bodies were exhumed and reinterred at Camp Butler National Cemetery in Illinois.

The POW cemetery is no longer in existence, but you can get close to it from Lafayette Cemetery, which is on the public side of the Fort McCoy gates. The POW cemetery was just to the northeast, on the other side of the chain link fence. It’s a somber place. Lafayette Cemetery has only a few gravestones. A recycling center is nearby and across the road there’s a sewage treatment plant.

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Sources

Army Historical Foundation, Fort McCoy - Wisconsin. https://armyhistory.org/fort-mccoy-wisconsin/

Cowley, Betty, Stalag Wisconsin, Badger Books, 2002.

Find a Grave, Lafayette Cemetery, Sparta, Wisconsin. https://www.findagrave.com/cemetery/2361774/lafayette-cemetery

Schmidt, A. R., C. L. Baxter & K. R. Schacht, Historic Context for the WWII Internment and Prisoner-of-War (POW) Compound at Fort McCoy, Wisconsin. The US Army Engineer Research and Development Center (ERDC), 2023. https://erdclibrary.on.worldcat.org/discovery

Signage at Fort McCoy Commemorative Area.

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Oddsconsin 62 - Washington Island Witness Tree

Howard Veregin — Sat, 7 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

It’s a few hundred feet from the Lake Michigan shoreline on the east side of Washington Island in Door County. It’s the trunk of a long-dead tree. It sits on a crumbling concrete foundation, surrounded by a wire fence and capped with a roof to keep off the rain and snow. A monument to a tree? [1]

A plaque nearby says it’s a witness tree, one of thousands designated in Wisconsin (and other states) in the nineteenth century to demarcate the Public Land Survey System (PLSS). Conceived by President Jefferson, the PLSS divided lands recently acquired by the federal government into an orderly checkerboard of six-mile by six-mile squares called townships. Townships were in turn divided into thirty-six one-mile by one-mile sections, each comprised of four quarter-sections. [2] As described in Oddsconsin 12, the surveying process in Wisconsin began in the 1830s at the Illinois border. Over the next thirty years, it proceeded through the rest of the state. The delineated PLSS lands were sold to private citizens to raise revenue for the federal government and to promote settlement of the western frontier.

How do witness trees factor into this effort? To document and map the rectangular PLSS network, surveying crews set markers, called monuments, at every quarter-section corner – some 150,000 monuments in total, usually just wooden posts. To enable rediscovery of PLSS corners if the posts were lost or damaged, surveyors identified nearby trees, documenting their locations, species and size. These were called witness trees or bearing trees.

Almost a half-million individual witness trees were documented across the state. Each one is recorded – in cursive script – in surveyors’ notebooks that have been preserved, scanned and made available online [3]. The Washington Island Witness Tree is a case in point. The tree was documented in March, 1835, by a crew led by Deputy Surveyor Sylvester Sibley traversing the southern edge of Township 34 North, Range 30 East. At the corner of Sections 33 and 34, Sibley set a post and selected two witness trees, a Spruce with a diameter of 8 inches and a White Pine with a diameter of 22 inches – the Washington Island Witness Tree. [4]

Surveyors documented trees at PLSS corners and also along the lines connecting these corners. On the south edge of Section 33, Sibley recorded the locations of a Beech (14 inches in diameter) and an Aspen (also 14 inches in diameter). The crew set a wooden post at the quarter-section corner a half-mile to the west of the Washington Island Witness Tree and selected two Spruce trees – one 7 inches in diameter and one 14 – as witness trees for this corner. Sibley made an observation that the trees in the area were mostly Sugar Maple, Aspen, Cedar and Spruce. The White Pine seems to have been an exception to the overall pattern.

The surveyors’ notebooks make it possible to travel back in time to explore the trees that existed in the state nearly two hundred years ago. For example, The Wisconsin State Capitol in Madison is at the corner of Sections 13, 14, 23 and 24 of Township 7 North, Range 9 East. In 1834, surveyors set a monument there and selected two witness trees, one Black Oak with a diameter of 7 inches and one Burr Oak with a diameter of 20 inches. [5] A Burr Oak that large could have been almost 130 years old at the time, which means it was a seedling in about 1700. [6] Of course, the tree no longer exists, since this location is now at the center of the Capitol rotunda.

If it were not for the surveyors’ notebooks, we would have no record of the trees that stood in Wisconsin before European settlement modified the landscape through logging and agricultural activities. Most witness trees are long dead, although a few survive to this day. [7]

But there’s even more value in these notebooks. Researchers in Wisconsin have transcribed them to create a digital database of witness tree locations and information. This work was carried out at UW-Madison’s Forest Ecosystem and Landscape Ecology Lab in the Department of Forest and Wildlife Ecology, under the direction of (now Emeritus) Professor David Mladenoff. For mapping professionals, the database can be used to perform analyses and make maps of historic vegetation patterns. [8]

An example is a mid-1800s land cover map showing native vegetation prior to permanent European settlement. [9] The map shows the dominant and most abundant tree species. Ecological regions are clearly visible, such as the Pine Barrens in northwest Wisconsin and the extensive Oak Savannahs of southern Wisconsin and the Driftless Area. Comparing this map to a modern map of land cover reveals the changes that have occurred over time, the ecosystems that have been lost and remaining fragments of old-growth forest. Such comparisons are of immense value to ecologists, foresters, planners and land managers.

Using the data comes with many caveats, since the PLSS surveys extended over decades and employed over a hundred different surveyors, each with different abilities to identify tree species. Procedures for recording trees also changed over time. [10]

The Washington Island Witness Tree is an important symbol reminding us that the landscapes of Wisconsin were – only a few centuries ago – very different than they are today. Without the witness trees of the PLSS survey, we would not be able to understand these changes in detail. The irony here is clearly visible, since it was the PLSS survey itself that ushered in these changes by opening the state to settlement.

Sources and Notes

[1] The tree is on a small right of way between two privately owned parcels.

[2] Board of Commissioners of Public Lands and UW-Madison Libraries, Land Survey Information. https://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/SurveyNotes/SurveyInfo.html

[3] Board of Commissioners of Public Lands and UW-Madison Libraries, Wisconsin Public Land Survey Records: Original Field Notes and Plat Maps. https://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/SurveyNotes/

[4] Board of Commissioners of Public Lands and UW-Madison Libraries, Section Line, Township 34 North, Range 30 East, Section 33, South boundary (East). https://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/SurveyNotes/SurveyNotes-idx?type=article&byte=1443385&isize=L&twp=T034NR030E

[5] Board of Commissioners of Public Lands and UW-Madison Libraries, Section Line, Township 7 North, Range 9 East, Between Sections 13 and 24 (East). https://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/SurveyNotes/SurveyNotes-idx?type=article&byte=29633739&isize=L&twp=T007NR009E

[6] The Land Conservancy of McHenry County, How old is that Oak? https://conservemc.org/how-old-is-that-oak/

[7] Eugenie Huang, Experience the New Wisconsin Bearing Trees. https://www.sco.wisc.edu/2025/05/08/experience-the-new-wisconsin-bearing-trees/

[8] Forest Landscape Ecology Lab and Wisconsin State Cartographer’s Office, Original Public Land Survey Records (WIGLOSR). https://www.sco.wisc.edu/glo/

[9] David Mladenoff, Wisconsin's Land Cover in the Mid-1800s. [Department of Natural Resources copy.] https://p.widencdn.net/wtnbbf/Map_S4_GLO_LandCover

[10] Forest Landscape Ecology Lab and Wisconsin State Cartographer’s Office, Wisconsin General Land Office Survey Records (WIGLOSR) Database Documentation v. 4. https://www.sco.wisc.edu/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/WIGLOSR_Database_Documentation_20.10.pdf

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Oddsconsin 61 - High Cliff Lime Kiln Ruins

Howard Veregin — Sat, 28 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Oddsconsin 59 and 60 explored several historic lime kiln ruins in the southeast of the state. Today, we focus on the Western Lime and Cement Company ruins in High Cliff State Park (Calumet County). The park is a Department of Natural Resources (DNR) property and the kilns are easily accessed by road from the park office. However, they lie behind a chain link fence due to their advanced state of decay. [1][2]

The site includes three kilns, a chimney and the shell of a two-story building. A photograph in a DNR publication shows the complex in 1905, when the kilns were connected to the building by a wooden enclosure. [3] The photograph is labeled “Copper Shop” – probably a misspelling of “Cooper Shop” where barrels were made to store and ship the lime. The wooden enclosure would have protected the lime from the elements and kept it dry. The photo shows a conveyor system for loading stone into the tops of the kilns and a railroad spur running next to the complex.

Near the surviving chimney, the photo shows a multistory building topped with what looks like a bucket elevator, similar to the “grain legs” seen on agricultural silos. Perhaps lime was conveyed via the elevator to be stored in the building. The chimney suggests a power source such as a boiler.

The High Cliff kilns were established in 1856 and went through several owners, including Western Lime and Cement, which also owned other kilns in the area. At its peak, the High Cliff plant produced as much as 500 barrels of lime per day, each barrel holding 200 pounds. [3] Western operated the facility into the 1930s, when it was acquired by Graymont, a lime manufacturer that is still in operation in Wisconsin. [4] The kilns were shut down in 1956.

The lime plant sits on a ledge overlooking Lake Winnebago. Kiln waste was dumped over the ledge and the rubble is still visible today. On historic air photos from the 1930s to 1950s, the kiln complex is clearly evident. [5] Later photos show that it quickly dissolved into the ruin we see today. [6] The limestone quarry, up the cliffs to the east, can be seen on Google Maps imagery. The quarry area is still only sparsely vegetated. Western Lime and Cement cleared the trees from the area, both to get at the limestone underneath and to provide fuel for the kilns and wood for barrels. [3]

Of the kiln sites we have explored, this one especially evokes ghostly echoes of the past. The kilns are crumbling, the wooden buildings are long gone and the whole effect is one of decay. On the central kiln, the stone walls have almost completely fallen away to reveal a rusty iron inner chimney, its sections riveted together like an old steamship hull. The ragged top of the chimney exposes a liner of crumbling fire brick. Trees grow out of the cracks in the stone at the kiln base, where a draw pit gapes like an open mouth. It’s hard to imagine that this much deterioration has occurred in only seventy years.

You might wonder who first conceived of the idea of producing lime by heating crushed limestone. Archaeological evidence indicates that lime kilns have been in use since Roman times. Kiln ruins over two thousand years old have been found in Britain, France, Germany and Portugal. [7] The earliest kilns were relatively small stone structures in which limestone (and sometimes marble, which is also rich in calcium carbonate) was layered with wood and then burned to produce lime (mixed with the ashes from the burned fuel).

In the US Midwest, the earliest European settlers produced lime using crude stone kilns, which were sometimes temporary as the need for lime arose. [8] It wasn’t until the middle of the nineteenth century that the elaborate kilns and associated infrastructure like those we see at High Cliff were first developed.

Lime continues to be produced today in many parts of the US, but the scale of modern lime plants is orders of magnitude larger than at old sites like High Cliff. Wisconsin lime plants include the Carmeuse facility just north of the City of Manitowoc and plants owned by Graymont (once the owners of the High Cliff kilns) in Fond du Lac County, Green Bay (where the main kilns have been idled since 2017) and Superior. [9-12]

Graymont produces a wide range of lime products for various applications, including “baghouse” lime, dolomitic lime kiln dust, high-calcium hydrated lime, quicklime blends, “aerolime,” cement lime blends, calcium carbonate powder and many others. While the technology has become more sophisticated, the basic principle of lime production hasn’t changed much since the High Cliff days. [13]

Since European settlers first arrived in Wisconsin, aggressive resource exploitation has been a recurring theme. The logging industry is a well known example. The forests of northern Wisconsin are still recovering from the clear cutting that started in the late nineteenth century. Lead and iron ore mining likewise went through a similar boom-bust cycle, where production first exploded and then waned as the supply of easily obtainable ore was exhausted. [14][15]

Lime production followed the same pattern. The High Cliff kilns survived longer than many of the other operations we’ve looked at, most of which had stopped producing lime by the 1920s if not earlier. A century ago, lime production depended on local, cheap supplies of limestone and fuel. Once these were depleted, plants were no longer able to turn a profit, and they shut down, eventually fossilizing into the ruins we see today.

Sources and Notes

[1] Department of Natural Resources, High Cliff State Park. https://dnr.wisconsin.gov/topic/parks/highcliff

[2] Department of Natural Resources, High Cliff State Park Map. https://widnr.widen.net/s/nfjlgzg9w6/high-cliff_trail-map

[3] Department of Natural Resources, Lime Industry at High Cliff. https://widnr.widen.net/s/jdbrx2tmxs/high-cliff_lime-industry

[4] Daniel Seurer, Marblehead Wisconsin: 150 years of Lime operations in Fond du Lac County. https://danseurer.com/blog/2020/12/24/marblehead-wisconsin-150-years-of-lime-operations-in-fond-du-lac-county

[5] Wisconsin Historic Aerial Image Finder, https://maps.sco.wisc.edu/whaifinder, Photo 2H-144 (10/16/1953).

[5] Wisconsin Historic Aerial Image Finder, https://maps.sco.wisc.edu/whaifinder, Photo WROC Sherwood SE (03/13/2018).

[7] Maria Margalha et al., Traditional lime kilns - Industry or archaeology? https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Jorge-Brito-13/publication/283324537_Traditional_Lime_kilns_-_Industry_or_Archeology/links/5633723908ae88cf81ba4109/Traditional-Lime-kilns-Industry-or-Archeology.pdf

[8] W. S. Blatchley, 1903. The Lime Industry in Indiana (Report of the State Geologist). https://scholarworks.iu.edu/iuswrrest/api/core/bitstreams/8f838493-9c75-4a7c-8ffc-6e25c4cf2c51/content

[9] Manitowoc plant. Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 44.168470, -87.700321

[10] Fond du Lac County plant. Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.704459, -88.386543

[11] Green Bay plant. Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 44.523798, -88.013615

[12] Superior plant. Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 46.729340, -92.075439

[13] National Lime Association. https://www.lime.org/

[14] Wisconsin Historic Society, Lead Mining in Southern Wisconsin. https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Article/CS408

[14] Wisconsin Historic Society, Mining in Northern Wisconsin. https://www.wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Article/CS410

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Oddsconsin 60 – Wisconsin Lime Kilns

Howard Veregin — Sat, 21 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Last week, Oddsconsin 59 looked at the Milwaukee Falls Lime Company kiln ruins in Grafton. This week, we’ll take a quick tour of other lime kiln ruins in the state. Some of these are on public land, which means you can visit them yourself.

Lime production was once big business in Wisconsin. At the industry’s peak in 1911, the state had over fifty lime plants and was the third largest producer of lime in the US. [1] Lime kiln sites and ruins are scattered throughout the eastern part of the state, along the deposit of Dolomite (magnesium-rich limestone) that runs through Wisconsin from the Illinois border all the way to Door County.

Waukesha County was one of the earliest centers of lime production in Wisconsin. The first commercial lime kilns here were built in the 1840s. Some of these kilns have apparently not survived, such as the Nehs family kilns near Menomonee Falls, which operated from 1845 to 1891. [2] However, two of the original Garwin Mace kilns are preserved in Lime Kiln Park in Menomonee Falls. [3] These kilns, named after their builder, were constructed in 1890, about the same time as the kilns in Grafton. The operation didn’t last long. The kilns were active for only three years, failing to make a significant profit due to changing economic conditions and oversaturation of the market.

Several Waukesha County lime kilns were built near the Village of Sussex, including the Templeton Lime and Stone Company kilns, which operated from about 1849 to 1916, the Weaver kiln, which operated from 1853 to 1866 (the location is now an active limestone quarry) and the Wisconsin Lime and Stone Company kiln, which operated between 1891 and 1910.

Two kilns near Sussex are still standing in the southeast quarter of Section 23, Township 8 north, Range 19 east, close to a railroad bridge. The kilns are on private land, so Google maps might be as close as you can get. Thanks to Google’s 3D feature, you can see the kilns pretty clearly. [4]

The ruins of the Johnston Lime Kiln – built in 1870 – sit farther south, in the Town of Genesee, in the southwest quarter of Section 24, Township 6 north, Range 18 east, just north of Hwy 59. [5] This kiln is also on private land, but there’s a picture of it in the National Register of Historic Places Data Asset Management System. [6]

Five Hadfield kilns – built around 1873 – still stand in the City of Pewaukee just north of Waukesha, in the southeast quarter of Section 26, Township 7 north, Range 19 east. The kilns are on private land, and are obscured behind shrubs and trees, but are still visible on Google Maps in 3D. [7] The National Register of Historic Places Data Asset Management System has photographs of the kilns. [8]

In Milwaukee County, Trimborn Farm in Greendale was a major lime production site from the 1850s to 1890s. Much of the lime produced here was used in building construction in Milwaukee, where one of the owners, Werner Trimborn, established a sales office. The Trimborn Farm site had a limestone quarry and six kilns, as well as worker bunkhouses. The plant was large, producing some 200 barrels of lime per day. [9]

The Trimborn Farm site (at 8881 W. Grange Ave., Greendale) is owned today by the Milwaukee County Historical Society and is part of the Milwaukee County Park system. [10] The remains of four kilns are at the south edge of the property under a wood awning. There is also an interpretive sign. [11] The kilns are open for exploration. The photograph for this blog post was taken inside one of the kilns.

Farther north, Ozaukee County is home to the partially preserved Milwaukee Falls Lime Company kilns in Grafton, discussed in Oddsconsin 59. Ozaukee County also has perhaps the only remaining pot kiln in the state, located in Harrington Beach State Park, near Belgium. The Park is owned and operated by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. [12][13] A pot kiln is a small stone kiln in which limestone and wood were layered together and then burned. The lime that was produced was mixed with ashes from the burned wood. This was a local lime production operation, not a big company.

Sheboygan County has one of the best-preserved (and most unusual) lime kiln sites in the state. The Sheboygan Valley Land and Lime Company kilns are located at the intersection of Lime Kiln Road and County Road MM in the Town of Rhine. The site also contains a kiln shed, office building and a quarry. One thing that makes this location unique is that the lime complex has served as a private residence for decades, with a number of additions and alterations to the original structures. The National Register of Historic Places nomination is worth a look, just for the photographs alone. [14]

The site is privately owned, but viewable on Google Maps in 3D. [15] Note the narrow-gauge railway running along the tops of the kilns (which are 50 feet high) that delivered the rock to the kilns.

The Sheboygan Valley Land and Lime Company was established with the grand vision of not only producing lime but also clearing and draining the nearby marsh to create agricultural land. To facilitate this, the company harvested the marsh’s tamarack trees for kiln fuel. As many as 150 men worked in two lumber camps located at opposite ends of the marsh. [14]

These plans were short-lived. The kilns operated only until 1926, when changing economic conditions caused their closure. This seems to be a common theme. Most of the lime kilns we’ve looked at survived only a few decades, victims of an industry that seemed unable to cope with swings in the economy and the lime market.

We’ll wrap up our lime kiln tour next week with a visit to the kiln ruins in High Cliff State Park in Calumet County, which are quite spectacular.

Want to see more photographs of the Trimborn Farm lime kilns? Click here for a photo tour. Thanks go to A. Buschhaus, a friend from Milwaukee, for taking these photographs.

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Sources and Notes

[1] National Register of Historic Places, Milwaukee Falls Lime Company. https://npgallery.nps.gov/GetAsset/ba5077b1-2362-4090-bc4e-3730031e368e

[2] National Register of Historic Places, Garwin Mace Lime Kilns. https://npgallery.nps.gov/GetAsset/86dd3a9d-40a7-43e2-b0a0-a85aa3da6fb8

[3] Historical Marker Database, Menomonee River and Lower Falls.https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=211234

[4] Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.136667, -88.207191

[5] Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 42.966169, -88.321513

[6] National Register of Historic Places, Johnston Lime Kiln. https://npgallery.nps.gov/AssetDetail/NRIS/82000723

[7] Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.038744, -88.214788

[8] National Register of Historic Places, Hadfield Lime Kilns. https://npgallery.nps.gov/AssetDetail/NRIS/82000722

[9] National Register of Historic Places, Trimborn Farm. https://npgallery.nps.gov/GetAsset/6eabcdbd-356f-43d3-9139-b40edebd40ac

[10] Milwaukee County Parks, Trimborn Farm Map. https://county.milwaukee.gov/files/county/parks-department/Park-Maps/Trimborn.pdf

[11] Historical Marker Database, Wisconsin's Lime Industry.https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=37508

[12] Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Harrington Beach State Park. https://dnr.wisconsin.gov/topic/parks/harringtonbeach

[13] Historical Marker Database, Pot Kiln. https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=149608

[14] National Register of Historic Places, Sheboygan Valley Land and Lime Company. https://npgallery.nps.gov/GetAsset/f49ca47d-ba38-4fd1-af5f-d065ea16fd47

[15] Enter these coordinates in the Google Maps search bar: 43.854826, -88.028784

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Oddsconsin 59 – Grafton Lime Kiln Ruins

Howard Veregin — Sat, 14 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The lime kiln ruins in the Village of Grafton (Ozaukee County) are the footprints left behind by an industry that was once prevalent in eastern Wisconsin. Built in the 1890s by the Milwaukee Falls Lime Company, the kilns were in operation until 1926, but then rapidly fell into disrepair.

Three kilns remain of the original six. Several kilns collapsed in the 1940s and the village later used the site as a dump. In the 1970s, a local citizen group, the Lime Kiln Preservation Society, saved the three remaining kilns from demolition by the village and worked to stabilize them. The kilns are now within the Village of Grafton’s Lime Kiln Park, established in 1972, and are listed in the National Register of Historic Places. [1]

The kilns are rectangular in shape, twenty feet wide at the base and with a height of between twenty and thirty feet. They are made of irregular stone with squared stone quoins at the corners. Red brick lines the arched openings near the base. The kilns are reminiscent of defensive towers found along the outer walls of Medieval castles. But unlike castle towers, the kilns are hollow, like smokestacks, and their interior shafts are lined with heat-resistant brick.

The kilns produced lime by burning limestone, a sedimentary rock often used to construct masonry buildings. Limestone contains calcium carbonate, composed of calcium, carbon and oxygen. When limestone is heated to a high temperature (1,800 to 2,100 degrees Fahrenheit), two compounds are produced – carbon dioxide, which escapes as a gas, and calcium oxide, or lime. This process is known as calcination or calcining.

Fresh lime is sometimes called quick lime to distinguish it from slaked lime – lime that has absorbed water, either from the atmosphere or by deliberate introduction. Lime has a strong chemical affinity for water and can lose much of its usefulness if it absorbs too much. [2]

The Grafton kilns consumed limestone quarried on-site. Workers used dynamite and air hammers to break up the stone, which they loaded onto carts to transport it to the kilns. One of the quarries is still visible in Lime Kiln Park, but others have been filled in. A stone grinder crushed the stone into small pieces, which were then dumped into the kilns using an elevated tramway system, portions of which are still in existence.

Fireboxes near the base of each kiln burned cordwood to produce the heat needed for calcination. The kilns operated twenty-four hours per day throughout the year to maximize production. At its peak, the company employed fifty workers, who would have spent many grueling hours quarrying and loading the limestone, stoking the fires, shoveling the lime out of the kilns’ draw pits and packing it into barrels for transport. [3]

A dam across the Milwaukee River, built in 1893, provided power for the operation. The dam is partly preserved, but the various outbuildings – including a kiln shed, cooperage, stable, lime house and stone grinder – have disappeared. A railroad spur, now gone, once facilitated the transport of lime to market. [1]

At its peak, the plant produced as much as 100 tons of lime per day. [1] The main use of lime was as an ingredient in mortar and concrete. It was also used for whitewash (a sort of paint), leather tanning, glue manufacturing, soap making, glass making, iron smelting, paper production and soil conditioning. [2]

Wisconsin was once a major lime-producing state. Production centered on a deposit of dolomite (magnesium-rich limestone) running through the eastern part of the state as far north as Door County. The deposit continues north through the upper peninsula of Michigan, the islands of Lake Huron and then southern Ontario, until it reaches upstate New York, where it forms the escarpment over which Niagara Falls flows. The dolomite deposit – laid down as marine sediment over 400 million years ago – is rich in calcium carbonate from the shells of mollusks, snails, clams, and other marine animals. [2]

Wisconsin’s dolomite was a prized commodity in the days of the Grafton operation. The magnesium in the dolomite produced lime containing a high concentration of magnesium oxide. Mortar produced from such lime has improved strength, workability and durability, compared to regular lime. Dolomite is still used today in commercial lime production.

The demise of the Grafton lime plant in the 1920s is associated with changing economic conditions, competition from other producers and advances in the chemical composition of mortar and concrete. Visiting the Grafton site today, with the kilns silent, it’s a bit hard to imagine the activity and sounds that would have been present when the plant was in operation – the roaring wood fires, the thick smoke, the human activity and the noise of the carts, stone crusher, tramway and train cars. The site is quiet and serene. It’s sort of a cemetery, really, although not one for people.

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Sources and Notes

[1] National Register of Historic Places, Milwaukee Falls Lime Company. https://npgallery.nps.gov/GetAsset/ba5077b1-2362-4090-bc4e-3730031e368e

[2] W. S. Blatchley, 1903. The Lime Industry in Indiana (Report of the State Geologist). https://scholarworks.iu.edu/iuswrrest/api/core/bitstreams/8f838493-9c75-4a7c-8ffc-6e25c4cf2c51/content

[3] Carl Harms, 1991. History of Lime Kiln Park. https://www.villageofgraftonwi.gov/DocumentCenter/View/604/History-of-Lime-Kiln-Park

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Oddsconsin 58 – Paradise Springs Resort Hotel

Howard Veregin — Sat, 7 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

For me tonight there'll be no sleep until the dawn
Neon sign from paradise hotel across the street
Is blinking on and off and on and off and on
- Eliza Gilkyson, Paradise Hotel

Wisconsin has lost many of its old resort hotels – The Fountain Spring House in Waukesha (opened in 1874, burned down in 1878, rebuilt in 1879, demolished in the 1950s), the Mirabel Caves Hotel in Manitowoc County (built in 1900, burned down in 2013), the Lake Geneva Hotel (designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, built in 1912, demolished in 1970) and the Tonyawatha Spring Hotel near Madison (built in 1879, destroyed by fire in 1895) – to name just a few.

Paradise Springs Resort Hotel is another casualty of time. It was located in what is now Paradise Springs Nature Area, in Kettle Moraine State Forest west of Eagle (Waukesha County). The spring and surrounding area were purchased in 1927 by Louis J. Petit, who built a horse track, fishing hole, tennis and shuffleboard courts and spring house.

Louis Petit was a prominent Milwaukee businessman. He was known as the “salt king” due to his business interests in salt mining. He eventually consolidated the Syracuse (New York) Salt Company and the Michigan Salt Association to create the L. J. Petit Salt Company, which produced most of the salt consumed in the United States in the early decades of the twentieth century. [1]

Petit also served as president of the Wisconsin National Bank, a director of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railroad, an executive of the Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company [2] and a director of the Old Ben Coal Company. He was, apparently, also an expert with the rifle, having once tied the world's long-distance target-shooting accuracy record. He died in 1932. [1]

Petit’s horse track is visible on air photos as late as 1937 [3] but is now overgrown.

Businessman Gorton Mertens acquired the property in the 1940s and built the Paradise Springs Resort Hotel – made of locally quarried stone. It had deluxe bedrooms with private, steam-heated tiled baths, a dining room, cocktail bar and roof garden with sundeck. [4]

A photo of the hotel [4] reveals a modern building, with a squat rectangular shape, round windows on the main floor, a large stone chimney and a patio surrounded by a rustic low stone wall. It is not a lovely building but was probably seen as chic and modern for the time.

The inside of the hotel was finished in white oak from the surrounding area. The cocktail bar, known as the Marine Bar, had a nautical theme, which explains the round windows – they were designed to resemble portholes. [5]

The hotel was a popular spot in the 1940s and 1950s, when it was advertised as a vacation and honeymoon resort. Newspaper ads from the period highlight the hotel’s entertainment offerings:

New Year’s Eve Celebration with music and dancing, no minimum or cover charge. Tenderloin steak plate for $1.50. [6]

See and Hear Television on one of the largest screens in Wisconsin at the Paradise Springs Marine Bar. Program (starting at 7:45 pm) includes the Shrine Circus (Wednesdays), wrestling matches (Thursdays), sports review (Saturdays) and a theater program (Sundays). [7]

Toboggan sliding and ice skating, weekends only. [8]

Bob Doine, Master of the Organ, live five nights a week. [9]

The hotel had a short life. It appears on air photos as late as 1963 [10] and was still in existence in November of 1970 [5] but was demolished soon after. It had been unused for several years.

A water bottling plant, originally built by Petit, sat near the hotel and operated into the 1960s. The plant produced not only spring water, but pasteurized baby water – the only such water produced in the state. As noted by owner Gorton Mertens in 1954,

“The baby water contains calcium, magnesium, and natural fluorine. You need not boil it before giving it to the baby because it is pasteurized.” [11]

The baby water was distributed in half-gallon oval refrigerator bottles labeled “Lullaby Baby Water.”

Today, the remaining Paradise Springs Resort buildings are in a state of decay. The spring house, built by Petit and originally clad with a copper roof, is now open to the elements. Spring water flows from the spring house into a shallow pond, which cascades over a waterfall created by what’s left of a concrete dam. The water flows into the Scuppernong River, then the Bark River, then the Rock River and then the Mississippi. Paradise Springs water still makes its way into the Gulf of Mexico, as it has for centuries, even as the human structures at its source have crumbled.

Sources and Notes:

[1] Louis J. Petit Obituary, New York Times, Dec. 3, 1932, p. 20.

[2] The same company that decades later owned the S. S. Edmund Fitzgerald. See Oddsconsin 45.

[3] Wisconsin Historic Aerial Imagery Finder, Photo 16-1512 (07/29/1937). https://maps.sco.wisc.edu/whaifinder

[4] Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Paradise Springs.

[5] Waukesha Freeman, Nov. 5, 1970, p 17.

[6] Waukesha Daily Freeman, Dec. 26, 1947, p 3.

[7] Waukesha Daily Freeman, Feb. 24, 1948, p 3.

[8] Waukesha Daily Freeman, Jan. 27, 1949, p 6.

[9] Waukesha Daily Freeman, May 5, 1951, p 3.

[10] Wisconsin Historic Aerial Imagery Finder, Photo 2DD-024 (08/20/1963). https://maps.sco.wisc.edu/whaifinder

[11] Waukesha Daily Freeman, June 23, 1954, p 11.

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Oddsconsin 57 – Pigeons

Howard Veregin — Sat, 31 Jan 2026 00:00:00 +0000

A stone monument stands in Wyalusing State Park (Grant County) overlooking the bluffs of the Mississippi River. It’s a memorial to the passenger pigeon, once abundant throughout the continent, but now extinct.

The monument was erected in 1947 by the Wisconsin Society for Ornithology, which first conceived of the idea in 1941. A brass plaque depicts a passenger pigeon based on a sketch by Owen Gromme, then Curator of Birds at the Milwaukee Public Museum. The bird is perched on the limb of an oak tree. The oak barrens of central, west-central and southwest Wisconsin once supported a communal passenger pigeon nesting area encompassing 850 square miles. [1][2][3]

The inscription on the monument reads,

Dedicated to the last Wisconsin passenger pigeon shot at Babcock, Sept. 1899. This species became extinct through the avarice and thoughtlessness of man.

The inscription was written by A. W. Schorger, an authority on the passenger pigeon, whose research showed that the shooting at Babcock occurred sometime between September 9 and 15, 1899. [4] Babcock is an unincorporated community in Wood County, about fifteen miles southwest of Wisconsin Rapids. A historic marker in Babcock admits to the crime:

Babcock is noted for being the site of the last known, natural sighting of a passenger pigeon… The last passenger pigeon was killed here in 1899. [5]

The statement needs some clarification. The Babcock pigeon was the last wild passenger pigeon killed in Wisconsin, but a few other birds lingered on elsewhere into the early twentieth century.

The scale of the destruction is astounding. The passenger pigeon, Ectopistes migratorius, was once the most abundant bird in North America. It is estimated that in the late nineteenth century there were as many as five billion passenger pigeons, primarily in the eastern and midwestern US. Flocks of the birds were so large and dense they darkened the sky as they passed. Witnesses described the sound of the massive flocks as like the thunder of an army of galloping horses laden with sleigh bells. [1]

In a talk he delivered at the annual meeting of the Wisconsin Society for Ornithology in Appleton in 1946, renowned naturalist Aldo Leopold put it in these terms:

The pigeon was no mere bird, he was a biological storm... Yearly the feathered tempest roared up, down, and across the continent, sucking up the laden fruits of forest and prairie, burning them in a travelling blast of life. [6]

The passenger pigeon looked more like a dove than the plump, waddling rock pigeons we see in cities today. They were also beautiful, the more-colorful males being slate blue with copper undersides and hints of purple. [1]

Their demise was mainly due to unregulated hunting. The expanding railroad network brought professional and amateur hunters to the nesting areas of the passenger pigeon, where they were killed en masse by every conceivable strategy. [1] The birds were simply killed more quickly than they could reproduce. Coupled with habitat destruction, the demise of the species was certain.

This pattern is reminiscent in some ways of the near-extinction of wading birds in the Florida Everglades in the same time period. In Florida, the mass killing was fueled by fashion: demand for feathers for ladies’ hats. Nicholas Ray’s odd 1958 film, Wind Across the Everglades, tells the story. [7]

The destruction of the passenger pigeon was not mourned by Wisconsin’s farmers. The birds devoured their crops. Aldo Leopold suggested that farmers viewed the killing as self-defense and would have considered it their duty to do away with the birds if the hunters had not already done so. [6]

What accounts for the rapaciousness of nineteenth century European Americans? Did the sight of endless flocks of pigeons suggest that the population of birds would never be depleted? But did they ever, as Leopold asked, confess a doubt about their actions? Did they ever wonder if the material comfort (or sheer enjoyment) they obtained through the slaughter outweighed what had been lost? And, do some of these old habits and attitudes still persist?

The passenger pigeon officially became extinct in 1914, when the last known member of the species, Martha, died in the Cincinnati Zoo. Her two male companions had died four years earlier. When she was found dead, Martha was packed in a 300-pound block of ice and shipped to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC. [8] She’s cataloged in the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History’s Division of Birds Collection as Specimen Number USNM 223979. [9]

Sources and Notes

[1] Why the Passenger Pigeon Went Extinct, Audubon Magazine, May-June 2014. https://www.audubon.org/magazine/why-passenger-pigeon-went-extinct

[2] Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Wisconsin’s Natural Communities: Oak Barrens. https://apps.dnr.wi.gov/biodiversity/Home/detail/communities/9168

[3] How large an area is 850 square miles? Larger than most Wisconsin counties. Only 26 of the state’s 72 counties have an area greater than 850 square miles.

[4] Aldo Leopold Foundation, A Monument for a Lost Bird. https://www.aldoleopold.org/blogs/a-monument-for-a-lost-bird

[5] Historical Marker Database. Babcock. https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=18287

[6] On a Monument to the Pigeon, by Aldo Leopold. BirdWatching, May 7, 2024. https://www.birdwatchingdaily.com/news/conservation/monument-pigeon-aldo-leopold/

[7] There are also parallels to the near-extinction of the North American bison. In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, again facilitated by the railroad, millions of the animals were killed, ostensibly for their hides, which were used to make belts for industrial machinery. The slaughter of the bison, however, had an even darker motive. It aimed at eradication. The US Department of the Interior itself admits that uncontrolled bison hunting was part of the government’s deliberate “policy of eradication tied to intentional harm against and control of [Native American] Tribes.” https://www.doi.gov/pressreleases/interior-department-announces-significant-action-restore-bison-populations-part-new

[8] Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, Martha, the Last Passenger Pigeon. https://naturalhistory.si.edu/research/vertebrate-zoology/birds/collections-overview/martha-last-passenger-pigeon

[9] Specimen Number USNM 223979. http://n2t.net/ark:/65665/3874def54-0dad-41cf-a660-661644cdeda9

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