Burt Lake in Northern Michigan

Probably my favorite place in the world. As a child, it was an adventure. It was often the culmination of a lot of preparation, and then, anticipation. Getting packed and "ready" was always an exciting time. We have pulled an old Trotwood Trailer, a few times, the Jessidean, a ouple of times, my boat, The Dood, but the early ones are etched in my memory.

It was 500 plus miles, but in those days in the 30's, a two-day trip. The first stop, was always a grocery store, somewhere in Ohio. Ring bologna, saltine crackers, cheese, cut out from that big circle of cheese on the counter, Fig Newtons and milk. Then a short drive to a roadside stop, picnic tables, out in the country, and we would sit and eat our "goodies" from that country store. Still my favorite meal.

Then, that night, we would have crossed in to Michigan. In those days, there were "guards" of some kind, at almost each state border. There were some things that they didn't want taken into the state. "Do you have any fruit?" Generally the question. I forget the exact spot, but we would stay in a motel, which consisted of about 20 small log cabins. The entire driveway was lined with softball sized white stones, lake stones, rounded. There was a bench and flagpole out in front, and after settling in, sit on those benches out front and talk with the other guests, it was heaven to me. That cedar and pike aroma in the air ... Michigan air, vacation time, heaven to me.

Then, the last of the trip. Anticipation, goose bumps, getting close ..... the scenery is changing, all spruce and pine trees, Michigan air. And  then, Indian River, we finally were in ..... Northern Michigan. Indian River was our last stop, get fishing licenses, last minute tackle. There was a large stone fountain near a community parking lot, loaded with fish, Perch, Walleye's and others. The odor in the stores, Michigandish, more of that Cedar and Pine, Indian items, sold, by Indians. Their stores had their own exclusive aroma from the leather and other things.

Then, on the road, a short distance ............ to ............. Topinabee, a bustling little town then. A grand Summer hotel, trains coming North loaded with vacationers, a left, across from  the hotel, up a little rise, a fork in the road, a little church, behind it, a little cemetery, and then, a short drive that seemed endless, a left at the intersection, the last leg of the trip. Finally, at the top of a rise in the road, there it was, we could see ...... off in the distance .......... Burt Lake ..... an elation that cannot be explained, there it was, heaven on earth, to me.

Finally, I forget their names, they lived across the road from John Greenman's stone house, they rented horses and did odd jobs, they John's store, make a left and a short drive down that sandy road, to one of Pauline's cabins, which Dad had rented.   The air, the water, the lake, the stones in the lake ... I actually have a few of them with me, right here, Burl Lakes rocks .... they are special .... I can look at them and a flood of memories comes to mind ..... one of our "car songs" .... "Oh how I wish again, I was in Michigan, down on Burt lake."

Burt Lake ..............

This is "heaven" to me, Northern Michigan, Burt Lake. I can hear those little waves washing against the shore, those rounded rocks from thousands of years of water gently caressing them, I can almost smell that crisp, clear, lake air, and the faint aroma of Cedar in the air.

My first visit to the lake was in the late 30's, I remember one year, in out Trotwood Trailer, we parked it near the edge of the lake. In those days, Indian children would walk around the lake selling baskets and trinkets that they had made. We had a large basket in our home for many years, held toys for visiting children, I wonder where that is.

Some years we rented from Paulene Everhard who owned a number of properties around the lake. One year we rented a brand new one of hers. My brother had taken a few high school friends up with him. Charley Parlette and Red Wallace, maybe even Bob Wolfe. Our first night, it was cool, they built up a big fire. There was a beautiful, new mantel over the fireplace. The heat and big fire, scorched and burnt it, slightly. The entire time there, that year, was spent with sandpaper, removing the char, and getting it back to bare wood. They got it done before we left, I don't think that Paulene ever knew.

Those stones, out in the water, could be the same stones that were there in the 30's and 40's. That is the same water that the Jessidean gently glided through, in the evening, slowly, with canvas buckets in the water  on both sides, to slow the speed, trolling in the early evening quiet, looking for an elusive Walleye.

The boat was built by my Dad, from start to finish, had a Gray Sea Scout engine, a beautiful sloping front deck, and up front, that bronze dirigible bow cleat that family friend, Oscar Higgins, the patternmaker, helped Dad with its design and pouring and finishing.. I would love to have that today. I loved that boat, it instilled a love of wooden boats in me that I have today.

We would excitedly leave Dayton, going on vacation. Somewhere in Northern Ohio, I forget the town, but the same every year, we would stop, get some groceries and stop at a small wayside park, with picnic tables and a swing. Ring bologna, crackers, milk, chips, Fig Newtons, still one of my favorite meals, then back on the road. Halfway up Michigan, we would stop at a motel, made up of small cabins. Then, next morning, back on the road ...... finally, Indian River, park near the large pond make of lake rocks, teeming with fish of all sizes. Fishing Licenses purchased, some last minute tackle, a short drive and there it was, Topinabee, Michigan. The little railway station, the Topinabee Hotel, not standing today, but a plush, Summer spot for many. They a left, up that hill, the fork in the road by the little church, on down that endless road, seemed like we would never get to the crossroads, finally, turn left, another endless road, finally, at the crest of the hill, there it was, our first glimpse ...... of Burt Lake, heaven on earth, to me.

Whatever happened to them?

Benny, Ramey and Stymie, wonder where they are now. Actually, they were imaginary playmates and friends of  mine, we went everywhere together. If we went out to eat, they came along. On vacations, the four of us sat in the backseat of the old Packard Clipper. Benny, who was my best friend, like me, loved those vacations in Michigan.  He liked catching those Perch we pulled out of Burt Lake.

Stymie liked to spend time in old John Greenman's store, the aroma in there, I can still almost capture it today. John smoked Rum Soaked Crook cigars, and that combined with the aroma of the Cedar logs that the store was constructed of, the produce, the other aromas, can still capture those today.

I don't remember when those three branched out on their own, or where they went, and I'm not sure when it happened, it was probably gradual.

Not sure why I am thinking of them today, they just popped into my mind, had not thought of them for many years. I wonder where they are now, old Benny, Ramey and Stymie, my old friends.

John Greenman

I don't know why, but the last few days, John Greenman has been on my mind.

John lived on Burt Lake in Northern Michigan, and he had a log cabin store on Greenman's Point. I remember him from back in the 30's and 40's when we used to vacation at Burt Lake.

It was very rustic in those days, and his store was a meeting place for all the vacationers, the locals, and the Indians in the area.

John was a true pioneer, or a man of the North. He was a big man and generally had a cigar in his mouth, a Rum Soaked Crook. He sold them at his store, in a cedar box. That cigar was the "fisherman's cigar of choice."

Every year my Dad would buy a box of them and I can still smell that aroma today.

There were pictures hanging on the wall of the store, pictures of when John first settled at the lake. There were pictures of him "sawing" the ice in the wintertime, ice blocks that were stored in his ice house, and were used for refrigeration for the store, his house, and all the summer homes in the area. There was electricity, but refrigerators had not made their way that far North yet, just icebox's, and we used John Greenman's ice.

John had built their home with stones from the lake, and I still remember the aroma in that house. It was always cool, and a lot of the interior was wood, Pine, Cedar and Birch, and a Northern Michigan aroma. I still get an occasional whiff of something that brings back all those memories.

The store also served as a bar, and on Saturday night it became the meeting place for the locals. I think most were a mixed breed of Indian and Eskimo and Scandanavian. It was remote. In the 40's, there was a German POW camp not too far away.

My Mother would only stay so long there on Saturday night, she was opposed to bars and drinking, she was a PK, (Preacher's Kid) but we would sit and watch for a little while till things got a little rowdy.

The locals would drink beer and eat sardines and crackers, they would go through cans and cans of sardines. They knew John Greenman's rules, and he ruled with a very iron fist. If someone knew they had done something wrong, or something that John did not like, they would just get up and leave. I remember a nod or a slight gesture from John Greenman, signified departure for the evening.

You didn't want to get on his wrong side, or get thrown out, there was no place else to go.

One of the vacationers and cabin owners at the time was a John Hopkins, or Hoppy as he was known eventually became a year-round resident, and bought the store and turned it in to a regular tavern. It is still there, known as Hoppies.

A visit to Michigan for me, which are becoming few and far between, always includes a visit to Burt Lake, to see John Greenman's stone house, to take that drive down by the cabins, some of which we rented, a trip back to the boatwell, where the Jessidean used to be kept, and a visit to Hoppies, and a "walk down memory lane."