Migrating to Michigan (12 page)

“What was that guy doing with the horse and the sleigh with a sprinkler?” I asked.

“He was building up the ice road,” said the professor. “When the shanty boys would cut down trees, they would cut the tree trunk into lengths that would be easy to work with at the mills. The shanty boys would load the logs onto sleds, and teams of horses or oxen would pull the heavy loads over the ice road to a nearby river.”

“So, that's why they worked in the winter months,” I said. “That way they could build the ice roads making it easier to haul the logs. That was very smart. But, why did they cut down trees with axes? Wouldn't it have been easier to use saws to cut down trees?”

“Yes, it would have been easier and faster,” said the professor. “But saws that cut down trees, called felling saws, weren't available until many years later. Now let's talk about what you saw on our second trip.”

“I think it was later in the winter or early spring,” Owen said. “The river down in the valley wasn't frozen over.”

“I saw guys rolling logs down the hill. When the logs got to the bottom they rolled right into the river,” Rachel added.

“Shanty boys who broke the piles of logs and sent them rolling down the banks into the river were called ‘roll camp boys.'” The professor looked very excited. “The place you saw was called a ‘rollaway.' It is located on the Au Sable River near what you may know as Oscoda, Michigan. Throughout the winter months, the shanty boys would cut down trees. Other workers would haul the logs to the rollaway and stack them up until spring. When the ice on the rivers and lakes started to melt away, roll camp boys would send the logs down to the river. This type of logging was called ‘river logging' because the river was needed to move the logs to the mills.”

“What was that guy doing with the hammer?” Owen asked. “Was he just whacking each log for luck or something?”

“Good question,” said the professor. “He was marking the logs. Each lumber company had its own mark. It was sort of like a brand. Marks were used to identify who owned which logs.”

“Who were those dudes on the river?” I asked. “It looked like they were standing on floating logs in the river. That's crazy. And, what were those poles they were carrying?”

The professor stroked his long beard. “The men on the river were called ‘river hogs.' Being a river hog was dangerous, and only the toughest men in camp would ride the logs. River hogs rode the logs from the rollaway down river all the way to the sawmills. Their job was to prevent log jams. They used the poles to keep the logs moving downriver and for balance. Sometimes the log jams were so stubborn the river hogs couldn't break them. When that happened, they would use dynamite to blow up the log jam and get the logs moving again.”

“Holy cow,” Owen said, “I wish I could have seen that. I'll bet some of those logs blew sky high.”

“They sure did,” added the professor. “Then when the logs finally arrived at the sawmill they were cut into boards.”

The professor blinked twice before continuing. “The lumber would be stacked and allowed to dry in the sun. When the boards were dry enough, they would be shipped across the Great Lakes to waiting customers.”

The professor looked at each of us. “After all the work was done for the season, the lumber companies got paid. And, that's when they paid the shanty boys.”

“What” I said, “they didn't get paid until the end of the season? That's lame.”

“When they finally did get paid,” the professor said, “they whooped it up in town.” The professor looked at his watch again. “It's getting late, and there is one more place I want you to see before you go home.”

T
he professor rushed to input information for our next trip while Owen and I played a game of catch with Mister Adams.

“Why are you just sitting there playing a game?” Rachel asked Owen. “We should be talking about our report, not goofing around. I get all
A
s on my report card, you get
B
s and
C
s. We have to work together on the immigration report, and I don't want you to mess up my grade.”

“Get real,” Owen said as he continued playing with Mister Adams.

While Owen was playing catch with Mister Adams, Rachel took a peek into his journal. The pages were nasty and wrinkled, not neat and clean like hers. Rachel kept careful notes about what she did and saw. Owen scratched a few notes down and drew pictures. Rachel was getting more and more upset.

Professor Tuesday adjusted the Tuesday Translators one more time before he spoke to us. “We have been very lucky so far,” he said. “No one has been badly hurt or lost.” He looked at Owen and Mister Adams. “We don't want anyone to wander off or get hurt, now do we?”

Owen and Mister Adams shook their heads no. Then the professor went to his laptop one last time. He hit the ENTER key and the teleporter popped to life. The globe rattled and hummed. Lights circled the room, and sounds thumped on the air. No matter how many times I've been through the teleporter, it is always an exciting adventure.

We stepped through the green cloud and landed safely in an alleyway. The alley was nothing more than a narrow dirt road carved with deep ruts. Dust clouded up around our ankles as we walked. Off in the distance, we could hear pounding.

“Be careful where you step,” said the professor. “Horses, cows, and other animals are kept in these alleys.”

“Yuk,” Rachel said. “I wore my good school clothes and my best shoes. Oh well, they're already messy from our trip to Houghton.”

A goose ran out into the alley from behind a small building. Rachel and I screamed and ran to the professor's side. A woman with a broom chased the goose. She wore a tattered old dress and a scarf on her head. Every time she got close to the goose, it would turn and run in a different direction. It honked loudly as it ran.

The Tuesday Translator crackled in my ear as she yelled at the goose. “You bad goose, get back to your own yard or we'll have you for dinner tonight.”

We all laughed quietly at the funny sight. Then we continued on past small buildings. The air smelled like those animal barns at the fair. Some of the buildings had cows. Some had horses. We even saw a pig and a duck.

“Come this way,” said Professor Tuesday. “I want you to see this.”

Rachel and I picked our way carefully through the alley as we followed the professor. We ended up at a house that was being built. The wood that made up the walls was all in place. It looked like a house skeleton. There were about three rooms to the simple house. Men were sitting on narrow boards building the roof. They were calling out for nails and lumber. Every now and then, a man would tell a silly joke and all the others would laugh loudly.

As the professor, Mister Adams, and Owen were watching the house being built, Rachel and I noticed a girl staring at us from the alley behind us. She looked to be about eleven or twelve years old, but it was hard to tell. Rachel and I decided to talk with her. Maybe it would be helpful in Rachel's report.

She was very shy. As we got near, she looked down at her feet. The girl wore a scarf on her head just like the old woman we saw before. Her dress was clean and simple but very old looking. Worn shoes covered her small feet.

“My name is Rachel,” my friend said.

“And I am Jesse,” I said to the girl. “What is your name?”

“Sophia,” she said. “You are not from here. You look very different.”

“That is correct,” Rachel said. The Polish words that came from the Tuesday Translator sounded funny in my ears. “We are far from home.”

Sophia looked me over carefully. Then I spoke again, “What do you do each day?”

“I have much work to do,” Sophia replied.

“Me, too,” Rachel said. “My mother makes me clean my room and feed our dog every day. Plus, I have homework to do for school.”

“I must help at home,” Sophia said, “but I also have a job.”

“A job?” I asked. “What kind of job?”

“I clean a doctor's house,” Sophia said as she drew a circle in the dirt with her foot. “I must sweep, dust, and do dishes each day. Of course I also have to make all the beds and watch their small children. I only work six days a week.” She added, “And, the doctor is very generous. He pays me $1.50 every Saturday.”

“You do all that work for $1.50 a week?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, I am very lucky,” Sophia said. “My wages help my family. The doctor also lets me eat food from his house.”

I couldn't believe that a young girl would have a job like that. “If you have a job and work to do at home, when do you have time for school?”

“I have been to school,” Sophia said. “After I graduated from the third grade, it was time for me to get a job and help my family. Don't you have a job?”

I shook my head no. “I just do some chores at home and go to school.”

Sophia smiled at us. “It has been nice talking with you Rachel, and you, too, Jesse. I have to go now. It is a very long walk to my job, and I must not be late.”

“It was nice talking with you, Sophia.” My mind was spinning. Not only did she quit school in the third grade to take a job, but she has to walk to and from work each day. We watched Sophia as she went into her house. Things were really different back then.

We turned down the alleyway again to catch up with the professor, but when we looked up we gasped. The professor, Mister Adams, and Owen were nowhere to be seen. We were in big trouble.

“
P
rofessor … Owen … Mister Adams!” Rachel yelled, but there was no answer. Rachel and I ran down the alley to the place where the house was being built. None of our friends were there. Owen's sneakers left some prints in the dirty ruts. They seemed to be heading through a field away from the alley.

We were both getting scared and headed off into the field of tall weeds and wild flowers. Suddenly, Rachel started screaming.

“A bee … a bee!” Rachel yelled at the top of her lungs. She swung her arms wildly at the insect that hovered above her head. “There are bees chasing me. I hate bees.”

From across the field, I could hear the professor's voice. “Rachel, don't run, be still.”

Rachel didn't pay any attention to the professor's advice. She kept running in circles and swinging her arms until she slipped and fell. I ran over to her and noticed that she was sitting in something that smelled very, very bad. The professor reached out with his hand to help her up.

“Rachel, Jesse,” said the professor, “I am very disappointed in you. Before leaving my office, didn't we talk about not wandering off?”

“Y-Y-Yes, professor,” Rachel stammered, “but I was talking with …”

“It doesn't matter who you were talking with,” said the professor.

“They're both sorry, professor,” Owen said. “I'm sure it was just a mistake. It won't ever happen again.”

Rachel spoke up, “It's not my fault all this happened. And look at me, my good shoes and school clothes are a mess.”

“What stinks?” Owen asked.

Owen looked at the back of Rachel's school clothes. “Rachel,” he said, “the field you just ran through is used as a cow pasture by all the families in this neighborhood. That wasn't mud that made you fall. I think you slipped and fell on some cow poop.”

“Cow WHAT? … Euw-w-w-w-w!”

Mister Adams pinched his nose and laughed.

When we returned through the Tuesday Teleporter, the professor told us to stay in his office. He went to the university bookstore to buy something for Rachel to wear. She couldn't stay in stinky clothes for the rest of the day.

“Owen,” Rachel said, “thank you for standing up for Jesse and me with the professor. I feel awful.”

“That's alright, Rachel,” Owen said. “But why do you feel awful? Once you get cleaned up and put on some new clothes, you'll be fine.”

“I know that,” Rachel said. “I feel awful about the way I've been treating you.”

Mister Adams shook his head in agreement.

“What do you mean?” Owen asked.

“When you trip or make some kind of mistake, I'm not very nice to you,” Rachel said. “In fact, I usually say something mean. But, when I fell, you were kind to me. You even tried to help me. I've never tried to help you. I've never been nice to you.” Rachel swallowed hard, “I'm sorry, I want to apologize for being so mean.”

“That's alright, Rachel,” Owen said. “I accept your apology. Now, let's find you a place to get cleaned up before the professor gets back.”

Mister Adams pointed to the ladies' bathroom. It was just down the hall from the professor's office.

Owen and I stood outside the door with Mister Adams. I worked on a crossword puzzle while they bounced a ball against the wall in the hallway until the professor returned.

Before long the professor came back with a bag of clothes. “Rachel,” called the professor from the hallway, “they didn't have much to choose from at the bookstore. So, I bought you a sweat suit. I'll throw it into the bathroom. You can get it once I close the door.”

The bag flew into the bathroom and Rachel gathered it up in her arms. The sweatpants were just her size. The sweatshirt was a little too big, but that was fine. She likes them sloppy. The professor even thought to get her a pair of sneakers. They were a little big, too, but they'd work. Rachel picked up her dirty clothes and shoes and put them in the bag from the bookstore. When she got back to the professor's office, everyone was sitting around the professor's table.

“There she is,” said the professor. “Come and join us. Do you feel better now that you've changed?”