“Clay Banks villages vanished with forests” from the February 7, 1974 Door County Advocate
Clay Banks villages vanished with forests
By MATH S. TLACHAC
In response to requests for more local history, the writer rather hesitantly attempts to bring to light past history of the township of Clay Banks. It too, has an interesting past but, unfortunately, sources of information are not as numerous nor as extensive as was the case of the Forestville history which appeared in the Algoma Record- Herald. Nevertheless, early settlers of the Clay Banks township carved out of the forest fine farms and made it one of the most progressive agricultural areas in Door county.
Clay Banks is the smallest township in Door county containing only about 14 sections of land. Yet, small as it is, its history can be divided into two parts—that of the past and that of the modern.
Its ancient record speaks of lake, port villages where long Piers extended far into lake Michigan. Here could be heard the hum of the sawmill, the click of the telegraph, plus a multitude of other sounds of activity, but where now is silence and solitude except for the chirp of crickets and the gentle lap of lake waves that wash the sandy beach.
Along the Clay Banks waterfront on Lake Michigan there were at one time clusters of buildings which formed the nucleus of three hopeful villages, namely Foscoro, Clay Banks and Horn’s Pier. These are merely names of the past; even the oldest persons alive can hardly recall the presence of those villages.
In the 1860’s, three enterprising men came seeking a favorable spot to build a sawmill, having heard that Door county was rich in forest. Traveling six miles, north of Ahnapee, they came upon a spot where the present Stony Creek empties into Lake Michigan. What they saw of the area reminded them of something akin to a fairyland. The surface of the terrain sloped gently towards the lake and the soil was rich and easy to cultivate. Springs of chalybeate water abounded from the hillsides. There was a thick growth of cedar, pine and hemlock, and the forest abounded in game. The deep stillness of the night was broken only by the sound of deer trampling through the brush in search of feed, while overhead in the far distance was heard the song of the whippoorwill. Seeking their way to the lake were the rippling waters of Stony Creek, while to the east the heavenly blue waters of the lake smiled on the shore that was gently lapped by waves. To the lover of nature this was indeed akin to fairy land.
The three men subjects of our story, were Foster, Coe and Roe and on this spot they decided to build their sawmill. Here they planned a village that they hoped eventually would become a city.
In order that their village might be a distinguished name, they combined the first syllables of their surnames into the name of Fos-co-ro which they named the village consisting of a sawmill, boarding house, warehouse, post office, telegraph office and a few log residences. They built a pier extending a thousand feet into the lake where lake schooners could dock to load on forest products.
Foscoro was so near to the Kewaunee county line that sometimes it was not sure which county it belonged to. Due to poor roads, Foscoro seemed to be far removed from the current of life in Door county, so that it was less visited by settlers who lived farther away in the county, it being located in the extreme southeastern corner of the township.
The heavy stand of cedar, pine and hemlock provided the raw material needed for the sawmill in Foscoro. In fact, it appeared that the timber in the forest would last forever.
Foscoro was a busy place in the 1870’s and 80’s, getting out lumber, shingles, railroad ties, cordwood and firewood. Lake vessels docked daily on the pier and take on a load of the forest products and many homes in Milwaukee, Chicago and other lake shore cities were warmed in winter by firewood cut in the Foscoro area.
In the thick forest, lumberjacks were busy felling the trees and the cry of “Timber!” reverberated throughout the area as a tall and stately monarch of the forest came crashing down. Swampers then cleared the log of limb and then came teamsters with oxen, sometimes four to a yoke, to snake out the logs to the hungry teeth of the circle saw in the mill.
There were piles of forest products on the pier and as many as 100,000 shingles were cut in one day. At peak of activity as many as 50 men found employment in the forest and the mill. Best pine lumber brought $4 a thousand board feet while cedar and pine shingles brought $1.50 a thousand.
In connection with Foscoro, historians cannot omit the name of one of the most influential settlers in that area. He was Charles L. Fellows. What the personage of the Hon. John Fetzer meant to the development of Forestville, the name of Charles L. Fellows meant in and around Foscoro. The names of Fellows and Foscoro were synonymous; one could hardly mention one without referring to the other.
The name of Fellows can be traced as far back as 1630 in Ireland, and descendants were prominent in Colonial and Revolutionary days in the capacity of a soldier or seaman. One subject, Charles L. Fellows, was born Aug. 11, 1834, in Williamstown, Vt. His parents migrated to Racine, Wis., when our subject was seven years old. He received higher education and graduated from Bell Commercial College in Chicago in 1856. He became a sea captain at the age of 18 years and was part owner of the lake schooner Julia-Ann, which, incidentally, was the first vessel to sail on the river in Wolf river, later known as Ahnapee and now as Algoma.
In 1856, Charles L. Fellows came to Ahnapee and embarked in the mercantile marine business. In 1871, he purchased land and settled in the township of Clay Banks near Foscoro. Here he specialized in stock raising, notably Oxford-Down sheep.
He was of energetic nature and his fellowmen gave many evidences of their confidence in him, selecting him to fill numerous positions of responsibility. He was instrumental in establishing a post office in Foscoro and was postmaster for 23 years. Through his efforts, the telegraph was brought to Foscoro so as to contact it with the rest of the outside world. For many years he was chairman of the township as well as a member of the county board. It was such men who were leaders in their respective community and the villagers in Foscoro often sought his advice in matters affecting the community.
All throughout these early years forest products in large quantities were shipped from the Foscoro area, but alas! one day the timber played out. The buzzing sound of the circle saw in the mill was heard less frequently until it stopped entirely. There was no more timber and no new industry that the settlement could engage in. Inhabitants moved away, seeking employment elsewhere, and the small village disappeared entirely. Not a trace remains of its existence, save the ripple of the waters of Stony Creek which still seek their way over a rocky bed to join Lake Michigan.
Only two miles north of Foscoro was the site of the former village of Clay Banks. In the early 1870’s it was such a populous place it was seriously considering incorporating into a village.
Here, too, like Foscoro, were a sawmill, boarding house, grocery, post office, telegraph station and warehouse, besides a few log residences.
At that time, Clay Banks was doing more shipping than any other port in Door county. Two large piers were located in this promising village, one owned by Hitt and Davidson and the other one by James Tufts. Lake vessels docked most every day for a load of forest products for southern markets. The chief industry which contributed to this business was the Hitt and Davidson sawmill which in 1872 cut more than 100,000 shingles a day besides a quantity of lumber, railroad ties, cordwood and firewood. The demand for these forest products was good in the southern markets.
The Hitt and Davidson pier was built in 1866 by Gillman and Brooks of Chicago. It was not difficult to drive piling to construct the pier where the soil was deep. The Pier was 1600 feet long, making it the longest pier in waters surrounding Door county. It was damaged at various times by high water and winter ice, but always rebuilt. However, a great lake storm in 1886 carried it away. By this time timber cutting was on a decline due to depletion of the forest and this resulted in the closing of the sawmill. Mill hands moved away to other parts in search of employment and the village of Clay Banks, like Foscoro, disappeared — not a trace remains today.
In the northeastern corner of the township, a place now covered by sifting sand and swamp growth, was Horn’s pier. William H. Horn, the owner of this now forgotten place, came from Manitowoc county in 1864, during the Civil War. He was a keen businessman and shrewd in dealings. He built a long pier in this location in 1866. Two thousand cords of wood could be piled on the pier. His crew of lumberjacks was busy throughout the winter cutting timber for this sawmill.
But in 1871, misfortune befell Horn. It was the year of the big fire, better known as the Peshtigo fire, which ravaged much of the southern peninsula of Door county. Within a matter of days the countryside lay in ashes — barns, homes, crops, farm implements and cattle lost, as well as human life. In September of that year. Horn’s pier was also destroyed by the first. It was rebuilt at once for Horn, being a shrewd businessman, knew, as a result of fire, that lumber and other forest products would be in much demand. A fire in 1871 also leveled Chicago and much lumber, shingles, as well as all sorts of other forest products would be needed to rebuild the city.
This resulted in a great demand and according to the Door County Advocate of 1873 there was shipped from Horn’s pier that year 100,000 shingles which brought $1.50 per thousand, 10,000 railroad ties, 5,000 cords of firewood, 5,000 telegraph poles besides lumber for construction. These figures give an idea of the amount of forest products that forests in Door County could provide for the outside markets.
Business was lucrative, but within a few years the forest became depleted. Like Foscoro, there was no other industry that the village could engage in and the sawmill finally ceased operation. Residents sought employment elsewhere; the village fell into ruins and disappeared entirely, leaving only a memory for historians to write about.
Courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
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