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OF

Cover Design by Arthur Thrall, Lawrence University

TRANSACTIONS OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF SCIENCES, ARTS
AND LETTERS

LXV-1977

Editor

ELIZABETH McCOY

Copyright © 1977

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Manufactured in United States of America.

All Rights Reserved.

TRANSACTIONS OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY

Established 1870

Volume LXV 1977

OF ELMS AND THE ACADEMY 1

Robert E. Gard

SOIL EROSION IN THE LAKE STATES DRIFTLESS
AREA-A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE 5

Richard S. Sartz

WISCONSIN’S FIRST UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF THE ARTS 16

Adolph A. Suppan

NEW DEAL WORK PROJECTS AT THE

MILWAUKEE PUBLIC LIBRARY 28

Daniel F. Ring

LANDFORM DISTRIBUTION AND GENESIS IN

THE LANGLADE AND GREEN BAY GLACIAL

LOBES, NORTH-CENTRAL WISCONSIN 41

Allen R. Nelson and David M. Mickelson

CAMBRIAN CONGLOMERATE EXPOSURE
IN NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN:

A NEW INTERPRETATION 58

Allen F. Mattis

DEWEY AND NIETZSCHE: THEIR

INSTRUMENTALISM COMPARED 67

Alfred Castle

THERMAL PLUMES ALONG THE WISCONSIN

SHORE OF LAKE MICHIGAN 86

R. P. Madding, F. L. Scarpace

and T. Green

CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MARCOPHYTES
IN GREEN LAKE WISCONSIN,

FROM 1921 to 1971 120

Mary Jane Bumby

PHOTOSYNTHESIS OF THE SUBMERGENT
MACROPHYTE, CERATOPHYLLUM DEMERSUM,

IN LAKE MENDOTA 152

Piero Guillizzoni

EFFECTS OF MADISON METROPOLITAN WASTE
WATER EFFULENT ON WATER QUALITY IN
BADFISH CREEK, YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS 163

G. Fred Lee

BACK TO THE LAND: RURAL FINNISH
SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN 180

Arnold R. Alanen

GROWTH PATTERNS, FOOD HABITS AND
SEASONAL DISTRIBUTION OF YELLOW PERCH
IN SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN 204

Wayne F. Schaefer

STANDING CROP OF BENTHIC INVERTEBRATES
OF LAKE WINGRA AND LAKE MENDOTA,

WISCONSIN 217

Farouk M. El-Shamy

DISTRIBUTION OF FISH PARASITES FROM

TWO SOUTHEAST WISCONSIN STREAMS 225

Omar M. Amin

CHANGING ROLE OF THE EMERGENCY
ROOM AND ITS ACCEPTANCE BY

HOSPITAL PERSONNEL 231

Thomas W. Langreder

OCCURRENCE OF THE BREGMATIC BONE

IN THE RACCOON, PROCYON LOTOR 241

David E. Miller

TOXICITY OF ANTIMYCIN A TO ASELLUS
INTERMEDIUS, DUGESIA DOROTOCEPHALA ,
GAMMARUS PSEUDOLIMNAEUS ,

AND HYALELLA AZTECA

Paul C. Baumann, James W. A. Jaeger, and
Mary E. Antonioni

GOVERNMENTAL BODIES CAN OBTAIN
INTEREST-FREE LOANS

Edward E. Popp

ASPECTS OF THE BIOLOGY OF NELUMBO
PENTAPETALA (WALTER) FERNALD, THE
AMERICAN LOTUS, ON THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI

S. H. Shomer

COMPARISON OF WOODY VEGETATION IN
THREE STANDS NEAR NECEDAH, WISCONSIN

B, J. Cox

MEXICAN-AMERICAN IMMIGRANTS IN
WISCONSIN, WITH PARTICULAR EMPHASIS ON
MIGRANT FARM LABOR

James Provinzano

MADISON LITERARY CLUB CENTENNIAL
DINNER PROGRAM

WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS
OFFICERS 1977

President

Robert E. Gard
3507 Sunset Dr.

Madison, Wi 53705

Immediate Past President and
Honorary President
Elizabeth McCoy
R 4 Syene Rd.

Madison, Wi 53711

President Elect
Dale O’Brien
Box 278

Spring Green, Wi 53588

Vice President-Sciences

Robert A. McCabe
4501 Keating Tr.
Madison, Wi 53711

Vice President-Arts
Edward Kamarck
1852 Summit Ave.
Madison, Wi 53705

Vice President-Letters

Janet Dunleavy
2723 E. Bradford Ave.
Milwaukee, Wi 53211

Secretary-Treasurer

C. W. Threinen
2121 Gateway St.
Middleton, Wi 53562

The ACADEMY COUNCIL consists of the above officers PLUS

Past Presidents: Louis W. Busse, Katherine G. Nelson, Norman C.
Olson, Adolph A. Suppan and John W. Thomson

Elected Councilors: David Baerreis, John L. Blum, Cyril Kabat,
Malcolm McLean, William E. Sieker, Forest Stearns, Hannah
Swart, and F. Chandler Young

APPOINTED OFFICIALS

Executive Director and
Editor Wisconsin Academy
Review

James R. Batt
W.A.S.A.L. Office
1922 University Ave.
Madison, Wi 53705

Associate Director for
Junior Academy
LeRoy Lee
W.A.S.A.L. Office

Managing Editor Wisconsin

AcademyReview
Elizabeth Durbin
W.A.S.A.L. Office

Editor Transactions
Elizabeth McCoy
W.A.S.A.L. Office

Librarian
Jack A. Clarke
4232 Helen White Hall-UW
Madison, Wi 53706

EDITORIAL POLICY

The TRANSACTIONS of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and
Letters is an annual publication devoted to original papers, some
preference being given to the works of Academy members. Sound
manuscripts dealing with features of the State of Wisconsin and its people
are especially welcome, although papers on more general topics are
occasionally published. Subject matter experts will review each
manuscript submitted.

Contributors are asked to submit two copies of their manuscripts to the
Editor. The manuscripts should be typed double-spaced on 8% x 11" bond
paper. The title of the paper should be centered at the top of the first page
and should be typed in capital letters throughout The Author’s name and
brief address should appear below the title and toward the right hand
margin. They should be typed with capitals and lower case and the address
underlined for italics. Each page of the manuscript beyond the first should
bear the page number and author’s name for identification, e.g. Brown-2,
Brown-3, etc. A note on separate sheet should identify the author with his
institution, if appropriate, or with his personal address to be used in
Authors Addresses at the end of the printed volume.

The style of the text may be that of scholarly writing in the field of the
author, but to minimize printing costs the Editor suggests that the general
form of the current volume of Transactions be examined and followed as far
as possible. For the Science papers an ABSTRACT is requested.
Documentary NOTATIONS may be useful, especially for the Arts and
Letters papers, and should be typed and numbered for identification in the
text, such NOTATIONS, as a group, should be separate from the text pages
and may occupy one or more pages as needed. For the Science manuscripts,
or any other at the author’s choice, the references should be typed
alphabetically on page or pages at the end of the manuscript to be printed
under BIBLIOGRAPHY. The style of the references will be standardized
as in the current volume to promote accuracy and reduce printing costs.

The cost of printing is great. Therefore papers will be subject to a small
per page charge to the authors; the amount being determined yearly and
the authors so notified. Galley proofs and edited manuscript copy will be
forwarded to the authors for proof reading prior to publication, both must
be returned to the Editor, within one week. Reprints can then be ordered;
forms and instructions will be sent to the authors. Each author will also be
presented with one complimentary copy of the volume of Transactions in
which his work appears.

Papers received on or before NOVEMBER 15 will be considered for the
next annual volume. Manuscripts should be sent to;

Elizabeth McCoy
Editor: TRANSACTIONS

W.A.S.A.L. Office
1922 University Ave.
Madison, Wi 53705

ROBERT E. GARD

55th President 1977

WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES,
ARTS AND LETTERS

OF ELMS AND THE ACADEMY

Robert E. Gard
Presidential Address
May 7, 1977
Wausau , Wisconsin

I am eternally searching for symbols of a permanence in life; of
firm values that do not change, of faith and belief that is
unshakable.

It is growing harder and harder to find such symbols. Occasional-
ly I think I meet a man or woman who exemplifies what I mean, but
the symbolic, traditional objects and institutions with their
attendant securities, seem to be harder to find, or to recognize.

To me the Academy is one such symbol. It was founded by persons
of idealism, and has stood more than one hundred years, a symbol of
aspiration, of high hopes for mankind.

To me the Academy speaks of the magnification of man, of a vast
humanism that encompasses all time, all knowledge, all hope that
man might express the best of himself, not the worst. To me, the
Academy is this kind of an Island.

But the eras do change, and our traditional symbols do slip away.
I reverently hope that the Academy will remain, and that its ideals
will prevail.

Let us expand a bit on what I mean by changing or disappearing
symbols. The elm trees that once shaded America are excellent
examples.

Near the front door at our home in Madison, we had one of the
largest elms in the area. My wife purchased the house and property
because of that great tree. Often she said, “If that tree ever goes, I go,
too.”

We had the wonderful tree for 20 years; then, though we
struggled to save it with many scientific treatments, it withered and
died. My lady wept when the men came to cut it down.

Something soon happened to our environment. A ground cover
died the next summer; ivy began to cover the front of our house. The
whole front looked different, inadequate. But she didn’t go; she
stayed, and we planted another tree: a Gingko. She said it would
probably last for 500 years. I didn’t want another tree. I felt the
change. As a writer, the loss of the tree desensitized me for a while,
but that’s when I began to ponder about the death of elms across the
breadth of the land.

1

2

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The great elms are gone — victims of rampant dutch elm disease.
The streets the elms once adorned are blank, empty. The feeling of
grace, of an almost ageless tradition ended with the disappearance
of their tall arch. With their passing, an atmosphere has vanished;
the whole air of permanence, of a corridor through time, has passed.
We have had a corresponding generation of turmoil and unrest.

When I was a lad, I heard of the arch of the elms of New England;
and I was told how Kansas pioneers, many who came from the East,
first planted elms in the town square and lined the new streets with
the sturdy trees, almost before they built houses. The stability of
America itself somehow was symbolized by the elms.

Lately I visited my old hometown in Kansas. Once there were tall
elms in the courthouse park and green wooden benches placed
beneath them. At one side stood an old horse watering trough. But
when I visited last summer, the trees were all gone— so was the
trough; so, indeed, was the old red-brick courthouse. A low
structure of yellow brick, entirely unshaded, sat uneasily in the
middle of the park.

I cannot believe that the death of the elms has had no effect upon
us as a people. The tradition of a leisurely college life, enhanced by
the presence of great trees above a quadrangle, or along a student
walkway, appears to have departed. Perhaps students are more
restless than they were a generation ago. Could it be that great trees
that spoke of quietness, a timeless tradition, a deep feeling of place,
had their effect upon the young?

There is a bleakness now in the atmosphere of colleges. Two or
three generations hence, when the new trees have grown, the
atmosphere may return. But what in the meantime? Colleges are
not necessarily known for the beauty and uniformity of their
architecture. Without the trees, the buildings sometimes look stark,
and their windows empty and lonely. I have noticed also, as the trees
have disappeared, that the traditions of the colleges themselves
have grown less important— indeed, the traditions seem often
forgotten. I recently found the senior class calumet— the peace pipe
smoked in friendship by each senior class at the University of
Wisconsin since, I believe, 1887, in a dark closet, entirely forgotten.
The famed “little red wagon,” so important to athletic teams of the
university, has disappeared. Nobody knows where. It was the
wagon that students drew with ropes; hauling the victorious teams
from railroad station to campus.

And the tradition of great professors of magnificent bearing and
influence . . . where are they? In a time of great elms the great

1977]

Gard — Elms , Academy

3

professors flourished. Bennie Snow (Academy member), noted
professor of physics, who received a “skyrocket” before each class;
“Wild Bill” Kiekhoffer (Academy member), great economics
professor with a deep love of students; Carl Russell Fish (Academy
member), historian and lecturer par excellence who was literally
followed by groups of students wherever he walked under the elms
. . . these great professors have vanished with the trees. With them,
of course, have gone the cherished stories . . . Bennie Snow, for
example, one day walking down a sidewalk on State Street. He was
walking with one foot in the gutter, one on the walk. An inquisitive
student, noticing this curious performance, asked the professor
whether something was the matter. “Why,” said Bennie, “I believe
one leg feels somewhat shorter than the other.”

Ah, for the great trees again!

I have many older friends these days, especially since I myself
have qualified for the golden years. Once the elderly sat peacefully
beneath the elms. Tales told there carried on the oral tradition of
generations. A bench now, set on a bare corner or in a treeless park,
seems forlorn, though it may be occupied by two or three old cronies.
Their daily meeting, the passing talk, seems to lack the benediction
of the elms and often my older friends comment on the feeling of
loneliness and uneasiness.

“Elm shade,” one said, “was once the essence of friendship. Most of
our elms are gone in this town. We moved in from the farm, my wife
and I, to be under the elms . . . that’s what my wife said. She liked
this town because of the trees. She said the elm was a woman’s tree, a
woman’s friend. This town will never be the same to us since the
elms have gone. It’s harder now to make new friends.”

Our national values, our national character, may be affected by
the loss of the trees. There are many, many reasons why our whole
system of ethical and moral behavior is changing. The elms
certainly are not to blame; yet the changes have occurred
simultaneously with the death of these trees. The elms have always
symbolized home and its values; the lure and pull of a homestead, of
waiting friends and parents when one returns. Once, the trees
planted at the doorstep to commemorate family events furnished
shade and comfort in times of joy and grief. Now the trunks, dead
and gray, stand sometimes in the yard beside the door. Or there is
simply a blank space— or a stump remains where grandfather
planted the elm sapling when the first baby died in the fall of
1861 . . .

4

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

We are certainly a nation which has developed its character
through the associations of family life. Family life relied on the
elms. The effect of their going may be subconscious upon us; but a
phase of American life — the serene elm phase — probably will not
come again.

Let us hope that the death of the elm trees does not point toward
the demise of the ideals of the Academy.

Let us hope that we may preserve and nourish the Academy. It
may be more precious than we realize. But institutions and
organizations are subject to the winds of chance. Recognition of
values and planning for the winds of change are the only answer. I
plan to work on that, and trust that we all will.

SOIL EROSION IN THE LAKE STATES DRIFTLESS
AREA - A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

Richard S. Sartz (Retired)
USD A Forest Service
La Crosse

ABSTRACT

The paper briefly describes the geological, settlement, and
agricultural history of Wisconsin’s unglaciated or “Driftless Area”.
Gullying of forested ridge sides and river terraces was especially
severe during the 1920s and 1930s when the University of
Wisconsin, U. S. Department of Agriculture, andtheU.S. Forest
Service began surveys of the erosion problem. Erosion has been less
in recent years. Many gullies have healed naturally; the change
from horse plowing to tractor plowing has resulted in less
cultivation of steep slopes and less erosion. Ridgetops are used more
for pastures and hay fields than for annual grain crops.

INTRODUCTION

Geologists know it as the “Driftless Area,” local residents, as the
“Coulee Region”: “driftless” from the lack of glacial deposits (drift);
“coulee” because of the steep-sided, narrow valleys. But no matter
what one chooses to call it, the ridge-and-valley country of
southwestern Wisconsin and adjoining States is an unusual land.
Four times the great, continental glaciers pushed their icy fingers
down over the upper Mississippi valley region. Some reached far
down toward the tip of Illinois, and into Iowa. But for reasons still
not clearly understood, southwestern Wisconsin and adjacent parts
of Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois were bypassed each time by the
great, grinding mass of ice and rocks.

So, unlike the country that surrounds it, the land here was neither
scoured, leveled, nor filled. Indeed, of all the many ways that nature
uses to shape the face of the land, only erosion has been at work here.

In the Beginning

It began with nature’s relentless wearing down of primeval
mountains into primeval waters. It was then that the sandstones
and limestones that we see exposed today were laid down. As the
land emerged from the ancient sea a new cycle of erosion began, and

5

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the land forms of today’s Driftless Area — the flattopped ridges, the
slopes rising steeply from narrow valley floors, the rocky crags—
began to take shape (Fig. 1).

Although it was never touched by the ice sheets, much of the area
was nevertheless affected by the glacial advances. Erosion, this
time by wind, was again the agent. As the rivers that spewed from
the retreating glaciers finally subsided, they left in their wake huge
deposits of rock flour, of silt, and sand. And as this material dried
out it began to blow. We do not know how long this went on, but by
the time it had stopped, a 100-mile-wide strip of country along the
Mississippi River was blanketed with a layer of fine silt. In places it
was as much as 20 feet thick, and it covered most of today’s Driftless
Area.

Thus, time and erosion shaped the face of the land. Later trees
came to hold it in place— grasses too, because this region was the
boundary between forest and prairie.

No wonder that early explorers who paddled up the Mississippi to
view the bluffs and the steep hill country beyond the river were
awed by what they saw. “The scenery combines every element of
beauty and grandeur,” wrote one. “The sunlit prairie with its soft

FIGURE 1. Driftless Area landscape as seen from ridgetop. The forest is
oak-hickory and associated species.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

7

swell . . . the somber depth of primeval forests . . . cliffs rising
hundreds of feet . . . streams clear as crystal.”

But this was 150 years ago. The natural advantages of the region
brought on rapid settlement, primarily by Norwegian immigrants,
who had found a new world counterpart to the old country. The
sunlit prairie and the primeval forest began to give way to the plow
and to the axe and the grubbing tool. Farmsteads and fields of grain
began to dot the landscape; and a new cycle of erosion was not far off.

The Plowmans Folly

The settlers soon found that the deep, wind-laid blanket of silt was
an excellent soil. The flattopped ridges, remnants of the ancient
ocean bottom, were easily cleared and the rock-free soil was easily
plowed. Unfortunately, for both the settler and for posterity, the
amount of flat land was somewhat limited because much of the
ocean bottom had been worn down into steep slopes following the
period of geologic emergence. So a lot of steep land was cleared for
agriculture, too. After all, the soil was just as fertile; and the settlers
had been used to farming steep land back in the old country. Forests
were left only on slopes too steep to plow.

The soil was very productive, but also very erosive. The wind-laid
silt was free of rocks and relatively low in clay, the fine material that
binds soil particles together. So soil erosion was inevitable. Forest
remnants became the dumping ground for runoff water from
overlying fields. Gullies slashed through the wooded slopes,
disgorging rocks and rubble and silt onto valley floors and into
flooding streams. “Civilization” had arrived in the Driftless Area.

Just when man-caused erosion actually began, we do not know,
but it was probably about the mid-1800s, soon after the land was
settled. At first wheat was the primary crop, but after 20 to 30 soil-
depleting years, wheat farming gave way to dairying. Soil fertility
probably declined rapidly under the annual wheat cropping
system, and the new cycle of erosion must have started in this era.
That a problem existed at least as early as the 1880s was shown by
an immigrant German farmer, August Kramer, who began strip
cropping on his farm near La Crosse, Wisconsin, about 1885
(Zeasman and Hembre 1963). One of the earliest published
references to erosion in the area came from Professor F . H . King
(1895) of the University of Wisconsin, in a textbook published 10
years after Kramer’s practice began. Speaking of the Driftless
Area, he wrote:

8

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

“The hills, no longer protected by the forest foliage, no longer bound
by the forest roots, are gullied and channeled in all directions. Storm
by storm and year by year the old fields are invaded by gullies, gorges,
ravines, and gulches, ever increasing in width and depth until whole
hillsides are carved away . .

It appears that King was describing the forest land gully, caused
by runoff from overlying fields. Other forms of erosion were
probably going on at the same time: sheet and rill erosion on sloping
fields; gully erosion on sandy river-terrace flatlands; and wind
erosion on sand plain areas. Forty years later, Aldo Leopold also
described (1985) the gullying of forest land:

“Every rain pours off the ridges as from a roof. The ravines of the
grazed slopes are the gutters. In their pastured condition they cannot
resist the abrasion of the silt-laden torrents. Great gashing gullies are
torn out of the hillside. Each gully dumps its load of hillside rocks
upon the fields of the creek bottom, and its muddy waters into the
already swollen streams”.

Although Leopold was writing about just one small watershed
(Coon Creek), the forest land gully was, and still is a common blight
throughout the coulee region. Such gullies are found in practically
every wooded slope that lies below farmland (Figs. 2 and 3). How
extensive they were in the 1930s was shown by a systematic survey
in 1935-1936 (Fig. 4).

Less common, but even more spectacular, than the erosion on the
loess-covered hills were the gullies on level river terraces of sandy,
alluvial soil. Here acres of productive farmland were sometimes
destroyed by gullying during a single storm (Fig. 5). The gully in
Fig. 5 advanced 1,000 feet during one storm in 1922, according to
the owner:

“This storm caught George Vollmer in the back field. On his way
home the team had to swim the new gully with the wagon floating
where the field was only minutes earlier.

“The debris pile at the outlet of the gully had buried highway No. 37
repeatedly. A survey in 1929 revealed that this cone was about 14 feet
thick near the road crossing and averaged over 6 feet over a 40-acre
area. Much of the finer soil material had gone down the river”
(Zeasman and Hembre 1963).

The largest of these river terrace gullies— one of many along the
Buffalo River in southwestern Wisconsin — decimated a 50-acre

1977]

Sartz — Erosion, Driftless Area

9

FIGURE 3. Part of extensive gully system below open land on Coulee
Experimental Forest, La Crosse County, Wisconsin. Note
man holding rod (lower left).

10

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

COULEE!

LEGEND

FOREST
ROAD
DIRT ROAD

STREAM

GULLY

FIGURE 4. Land use and gully survey of part of a township in La Crosse
County, 1935.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

11

area, and ranged from 30 to more than 50 feet deep. Its beginning
dated back to at least 1914. A 1929 survey of the Buffalo
River area showed 170 gullies with a total length of 18 miles, a total
area of 138 acres, and a total volume of 3,247,000 cubic yards in a 75
square-mile area (Bates and Zeasman 1930). Much of the eroded
soil washed into the Buffalo River, and subsequently into the
Mississippi.

The soil loss and sediment gain from sheet and rill erosion were
inestimable. Soil surveys did indicate their magnitude, however.
For example, Muckenhirn and Zeasman reported about 1940 that
more than 60% of the cropland in southwestern Wisconsin had lost at
least one plow depth of soil. This probably reflects water erosion of
loessal silt loam soils on sloping fields for the most part. However,
wind erosion also took its toll on flat fields of the sand plain area, as
shown in a photo taken in 1960 (Fig. 6). A road nearby was protected
from drifting sand by a snow fence.

FIGURE 5. River terrace gully showing drop inlet dam, 1932. Except for
growth of vegetation, the area looked much the same in 1958.

Early Control Efforts

Except for a few innovators like August Kramer, nothing much
was done about the erosion problem until the early 1920s. The U . S .

12

Wisconsin Academy of Scienes, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Soil Conservation Service did not yet exist, and most landowners
had nowhere to turn for help. Then in 1922, 0. R. Zeasman, a
University of Wisconsin extension specialist in land drainage, was
assigned the job of “stopping ditches.” Perhaps it was a sign of the
times that Zeasman was originally moved into the erosion control
field not to save farms or rivers, but to reduce highway maintenance
costs in Buffalo County (Zeasman and Hembre 1963).

One of his early efforts was to stake out diversion terraces, the
first in the fall of 1922. Later, he began building drop inlet gully
control dams; the first large one was started on the Vollmer farm
(Fig. 5) in 1928. In 1932 he laid out a diversion terrace there that
successfully diverted the water away from the gullies. I visited the
farm in 1958 and was told by Mr. Vollmer that construction of the
terrace had taken care of the problem; water no longer ran through
the gully.

In the meantime, the USDA Forest Service was called upon to
help in a “Cooperative Study of Soil Erosion Problems in
Wisconsin.” The cooperative agreement between the Lake States
Forest Experiment Station and the Wisconsin College of
Agriculture was signed June 4, 1929.

A lot happened in the early 1930s. Research at the Upper
Mississippi Valley Soil Conservation Experiment Station, a
cooperative project between the U.S. Department of Agriculture
and the Wisconsin College of Agriculture, began at La Crosse in
1931. A year later, watershed management research by the Lake
States Forest Experiment Station (USDA Forest Service) also
began there. The Nation’s first watershed improvement project was
begun in Coon Creek watershed in 1933, the same year that the
F orest Service proposed public acquisition of some 1.4 million acres
in the bluff lands area as an erosion control purchase unit (nothing
came of this). The Soil Erosion Service was created as an emergency
agency in the Department of Interior in 1933, and was transferred
to the Department of Agriculture as a permanent agency in 1935.
The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was born, and many camps
were engaged in erosion control work in the Driftless Area during
1933-34. Constructing gully control structures was a major activity:
some 900 were built.

Other efforts in the 1920s and 1930s included construction of
various kinds of check dams to protect railroads and highways from
mud-rock flows (Fig. 7). These structures were largely ineffective
because they attempted to cure the symptom rather than the
disease. Some were filled after one storm. Nevertheless, large sums
were spent in this futile effort.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

13

FIGURE 6. Wind erosion on sand plain in north La Crosse County, 1960.

FIGURE 7. Check dams built by Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy
railroad in the 1920s to protect tracks near Genoa, Wisconsin.

14

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The Situation Today

Although yesterday’s gullies still scar the land (there is no
reasonable solution to large holes in the ground), most have at least
stopped growing. This is largely the result of natural causes. The
first big storms probably washed out most of the soil and rock fill.
As the gullies enlarged, the erosion potential diminished. Even if
the most destructive storms were repeated on the same area today,
the potential for further erosion would not be there because some
channels have long since been worn down to bedrock. However, the
gullies have not entirely healed. Some still discharge rocks and
rubble during high runoff storms.

Gradual changes in land use over the years have also speeded the
healing process. With the change from annual grain cropping to
dairying, some cropland went into permanent pasture. When the
tractor replaced the horse, more was saved because tractors cannot
safely negotiate steep slopes. As gullies ate into upland fields the
plow line had to retreat upslope, and old fields soon became new
forests of aspen, birch, and elm. Narrower ridges also went out of
crop production eventually to revert to forest. And, of course, the
increase in conservation farming over the years has also helped.
With all of these changes, less water now flows from upland fields
onto forested slopes.

Even so, new gullies can still form, given the proper combination
of conditions. But now the triggering mechanism is more likely to be
a bulldozer than a plow; and the site, a hillside subdivision instead of
a farm field. However, all may not yet be right down on the farm.
Steep land is still cultivated; so eroding fields and flash floods are
still more than just a memory of bygone days. The Corps of
Engineers is currently seeking support for two separate flood
control projects in the area. And consider, for example, this quote
from a recent newspaper story (Breitbach 1975):

“If a final epitaph were to be written for 1974, it could best be
summed up in one word . . . ‘failure.’ Failure to protect the land from
soil erosion saw the most severe soil losses in the past 25 years.”

One man’s opinion? Perhaps. But coulee streams still run muddy
with every rain. So the current cycle has not yet run its course. Nor
is it likely to — as long as those who work the land continue to ignore
the demands of an uncompromising nature.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

15

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bates, C. G., and 0. R. Zeasman. 1930. Soil erosion— a local and national
problem. Univ. Wis. Res. Bull. 99, 100 pp., illus.

Breitbach, Dave. Article in Waukon Republican Standard, Conserv.
Suppl., March 25, 1975.

King, F. H. 1895. The Soil Its Nature, Relations, and Fundamental
Principles of Management. L . H . Bailey, ed. 303 pp., Macmillian and Co.,
New York.

Leopold, Aldo. Coon Valley, an adventure in cooperative conservation. Am.
For. 41:205-208. 1935.

Muckenhirn, R. J., and O . R. Zeasman. [n.d. circa 1940] Soil erosion survey
of Wisconsin. Wis. Univ. Spec. Bull., 24 pp., illus.

Zeasman, O. R., and I. O. Hembre. 1963. A brief history of soil erosion
control in Wisconsin. State Soil and Water Conserv. Comm. In
Cooperation with Univ. of Wis. Ext. Serv., Coll. Agr., Madison, Wis.

WISCONSIN’S FIRST UNIVERSITY
SCHOOL OF THE ARTS

THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN-MILWAUKEE SCHOOL
OF FINE ARTS: ITS FIRST TWELVE YEARS

Adolph A. Suppan

University Wisconsin —
Milwaukee

In December 1962, the University of Wisconsin Regents
established the state’s first university school of the arts, at The
University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. This is an account of the
creation of that School, its academic innovations, and its first twelve
years of development.

It wil 1 be evident from what follows that a potent stimulus toward
the possibility of such a school came when the University began its
artist-in-residence program during the 1960 summer session.1 On
campus were poet John Ciardi, abstract-expressionist painter Jack
Tworkov, composer Alvin Etler, the Fine Arts Quartet, the New
York Woodwind Quintet, and pianist Frank Glazer. The program
(subsequently given the inclusive title of “Summer Arts Festival”)
was unique, at that time, in several respects. The artists came not
for a one-day visit, but to teach courses, lecture or perform, and hold
conversations with students, faculty, and public. In round-table
discussions between visiting artists and the faculty, the arts were
examined in relation to one another under such topics as: “The
Artist and the Critic,” “Government Subsidy for the Arts,” “The
Artist and the Public: A Communications Gap?,” and “The Artist in
the University.” At concert “previews” and lecture-demonstrations,
Mozart and Beethoven, as well as Bartok and Schonberg, were
explained and discussed. A spirit of aesthetic excitement prevailed
for many weeks, as the audiences realized that the arts together had
more impact than the arts individually.

The success of this, and the 1961 summer program relating the
arts in teaching and performance, soon posed an obvious question
for the University. Why should the arts come together only during
the summer session?

Early in 1962, Chancellor J. Martin Klotsche created the Ad Hoc
UWM Committee to Consider the Future of The Arts . The
Committee, representing a broad range of the arts and art related
administrators, included Professors Lester E. Fuhrmann

16

1977]

Suppan— School of the Arts, UW-Mil

17

(Theatre), Frank M, Himmelmann (Education), Frederick I. Olson
(Extension), Milton H. Rusch (Music), Robert Schellin (Art), and
Adolph A. Suppan, Chairman (Director, Summer Session).

This committee wrote a document which, for those years,
displayed significant foresight relating to the situation of the arts in
most of the nation's universities. The essential recommendations
were:

PROPOSAL FOR A UNIFIED FINE ARTS
PROGRAM AT UWM

OBJECTIVES

1. To provide a continous and effective relationship between UWM departments
related to the fine arts area

2. To enable these departments to coordinate their resources; to encourage
generally in the university a recognition of the value of the disciplines inherent
in the arts; and to intensify departmental offerings in the fine arts to both the
students and the community

3. To make it possible for students to major in a fine arts curriculum which cuts
across departmental boundries; permits students to see the arts in their natural
relationship to one another; and allows concentration upon such areas as
aesthetics, arts history, cultural development, and art in society

4. To permit within the professional training of each student majoring in the arts a
maximum intensity of study and experience in his area

5. To centralize lines of communication between the total university arts program
and civic organizations working in the arts

6. To coordinate programs in the arts (music, theatre, the dance, and the visual
arts) so that each year a calender of arts activities can be printed in advance,
providing the community with a total awareness of the varied activities and
wide range of the arts in UWM.

RECOMMENDATIONS

1. The university should establish a separate division of fine arts with an
administrative head directly responsible to the Provost [now Chancellor]. This
division would include the departments of art, art history, theatre, music, and
the dance. The present budgets of these departments (or what are now areas
within departments, such as theatre and dance) would be incorporated into the
total budget of the division.

2. The fine arts unit would include among its primary functions the objectives
given above, and would implement them as soon as is possible.

The recommendations, approved by Chancellor Klotsche and the
relevant departments and deans, were submitted to the University
of Wisconsin administration in Madison. Action on the document
came in the fall of 1962 when the new president of the University,

18

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Fred Harvey Harrington, also approved it and relayed it to the
University Regents. In December 1962, the Regents created a
School of Fine Arts for The University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and
appointed Adolph A. Suppan as its first dean.2

Intense planning by faculty and administration began; only eight
months remained before the new School was to open. The deans and
faculties involved had to consider the mechanics of bringing
existing departments and new academic areas together. Dean
Joseph G. Baier of the College of Letters and Science played an
important role in effecting a smooth transition for Music (already a
department) and Theatre Arts (three faculty members in the
Speech Department). At the School of Education, the Art
Department (like Music, already possessed of an excellent reputa¬
tion in the state) was also involved in the move. The existing dance
courses were offered by the Department of Women’s Physical
Education; that department preferred to retain the one faculty
member involved and, therefore, an entirely new dance faculty had
to be appointed.

A Faculty Planning Committee was formed to design a general
curriculum for the new School — admission details, course re¬
quirements, and revised departmental programs. The Committee’s
recommendations were resourceful and innovative. Besides the
four departmental programs — Art, Dance, Music, and Theatre
Arts3— a fifth unique program was added: Inter-Arts. A student
choosing to become a generalist in the arts could get a degree by
working in any three of the four departments; e.g. 24-credit with
“mini-majors” in Music, Theatre Arts, and Dance. This degree
could form a background for fields such as arts administration, arts
history, concert hall management, or arts journalism.

A second feature of the proposed new curriculum was a
requirement that every student, no matter which of the five new
majors he or she chose, should take two year-long survey courses:
Arts and Mankind in the freshman year and The Arts: Theory and
Criticism in the senior year. These wide-ranging courses, taught by
a team of instructors from the entire arts faculty, would, in the first
year of the students’ academic experience, acclimate them to art
disciplines other than their own and, in the fourth year, give them
an overall view of critical principles and practices relating to all the
arts, and thus broaden their aesthetic approaches. These classes
would, we hoped, liberate the students from the too-concentrated,
conventional arts major. As far as we knew, such courses were not
offered in any other institution.

1977]

Suppan— School of the Arts, UW-Mil

19

The Committee also was aware of current criticism that many
private conservatory programs in music, art, theatre or dance
neglected the students’ liberal arts education. The new curriculum
required 30 credits in the humanities and sciences, without
sacrificing an adequate credit load in the major discipline.

In summary, the Committee proposed an arts education of
rigorous professional competence, yet eschewed over-specialization
by creating a balance with general education and an introduction to
the other arts.

The labors of the Committee (its members always in consultation
with colleagues in their various departments) were rewarded when,
on March 28, 1963, the arts faculty approved the new curriculum.
On April 11, the all-University faculty gave a unanimous go-ahead
to the new School. Similar approval of the new curriculum by the
University administration and Regents quickly followed. In a few
months, the first university college of the arts in Wisconsin was
ready to face its next challenge: its reception by students and the
public.

First-semester registration, in September 1963, exceeded
predictions. Enrollment in arts majors increased from 1,011 to
1,248—23 percent overall. Class registration rose from 6,798 to
7,579—12 percent, compared with an all University increase of 9
percent.

During that first year and the next, these developments in the
academic progress of the School took place:

(1) Recognition of the Music Department by the two leading national
accreditation systems: the National Association of Schools of Music and
the National Council for Teacher Accreditation. These were significant
not only for their stamp of approval for an already reputable
department, but because there had been some faculty concern that the
department might lose stature by joining an arts school with a new
curriculum.

(2) The appointment of the internationally-famous Fine Arts Quartet to
full-time faculty status with tenure. There were some resident quartets
in other universities but, to our knowledge, none had ever been given
tenure as a group. The acknowledged excellence of the Quartet also
signalled to the community the standard of quality the new School
would strive for in its appointments.

(3) New graduate programs in Art and Music: three Master of Music
degrees (Applied Music, Conducting, Music History and Literature): a
Master of Fine Arts degree, offered parallel to the existing degrees of
Master of Science in Art, and Master of Science in Art Education.

20

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

(4) A four-year curriculum and an Education major in Theatre Arts.

(5) A four-year professional major program in the new Department of
Dance.

(6) Revision of the Art Department’s undergraduate program, with eight
professional areas of specialization.

During subsequent years (1965-67) enrollment increase con¬
tinued , exceeding all-University averages; the full-time faculty had
now increased from 44 to 70. And, because of the burgeoning
student population, a desperate need for additional classroom and
office space developed. Only the Music Department was adequately
housed; it had acquired, a few years before the formation of the
School of Fine Arts, an efficient new building with an excellent
recital hall. The Art Department was still in cramped quarters at
the north end of old Mitchell Hall’s third floor; dance and theatre
classes were also scheduled in that building; music, theatre, and
dance performances took place in Mitchell’s “auditorium,” original¬
ly designed for lectures and debates. It had a cramped stage which
served only minimally for theatre purposes; also rows of uncomfor¬
table, joined, wooden seats were movable, to make room for campus
dances. The new School, with its many students, was suffering one
of the most ancient of institutional diseases— lack of space.

In the fall of 1966, Chancellor Klotsche announced the welcome
news that the Regents had approved a new Fine Arts Center for the
University. A Faculty Planning Committee was immediately
appointed to advise the state architects and engineers on the three-
building complex (to adjoin the existent Music Building). We
wanted a plan that would include classrooms, offices, studios,
galleries, student recreation space, and a multi-purpose theatre.
Though we wanted a center that would offer adequate performance
and exhibition space, we hoped it could also be an appropriate
environment for the artist/ teachers and their students.

As indicated before, the School had a two-fold academic purpose:
to provide professional and general training in the arts, and at the
same time to alert students to the inter-relationship of the arts. We
therefore asked the architects to design a quadrangle which would
coordinate the arts in a spatial, as well as academic, continuum.
They accomplished this with an inter-flow between the units, using
covered walks and adjoining courtyards; provision was also made
for a number of arts activities in each of the buildings.

A specific example of how this “inter-flow” principle was
considered for every aspect of the Center can be seen in the Planning

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts, UW-Mil

21

Committee’s objection to the architects’ orginal plan for the
galleries, which were to be in a squat, one-story structure, separated
from the other buildings. We complained that this made them
merely another museum, isolated from the ebb and flow of people on
the campus. We suggested that the galleries be situated on the
second floor of the Theatre Building (its first-floor lobby was also a
concourse) where students, in the daytime, and the public,
attending evening events, would be attracted to the painting,
sculpture, and crafts exhibitions. The architects not only agreed,
but put floor-to-ceiling gallery windows in the upper well of the
theatre lobby. Day and night, many of the structures and colors of
artworks could be seen from below— a continuing display of
ongoing attractions in the visual arts.

A distinctive feature of the theatre itself was its flexibility in
regard to both thrust- and proscenium-staging. Normally the
theatre, with thrust-stage, would seat 550 people. Sharp-rise
seating around three sides of the stage would make it possible for
every member of the audience— even those sitting in the eleventh
and last row — to have a clear and close view of the performances.
Experts were also consulted to provide a variety of different
acoustical situations to suit whatever would be staged. The theatre
would not be limited to plays, but would be used for orchestral and
choral concerts, recitals, lecture-demonstrations, and dance con¬
certs as well. Hydraulic-electric devices would make it possible to
lower the entire thrust-stage so that it disappeared, transforming
the theatre into a 600-seat proscenium-type interior. Portions of the
floor could also be lowered to form an orchestra pit for musical
comedies and certain types of dance performances. Other features
of the Theatre Building included a lower-level rehearsal room with
a stage of the exact measurements of the thrust-stage, dance
studios, and numerous shops for scenery, costuming, and stage
design.

The Art Building had studios and classrooms adapted for every
art activity: ceramics, sculpture, graphic arts, painting,
photography, film, design, weaving. Between the Art Building and
the Theatre was a sculpture court which served as both an outdoor
working area (there was direct access to it from the interior studios)
and an exhibition space.

Although the 300-seat Recital Hall was conceived mainly for
chamber music, it also was flexible in its uses; and the Lecture-
auditorium would serve equally well for film showings, theatre
workshop productions, and lectures.

22

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

In the 1960s (the Fine Arts Center was completed in 1968), some
cultural historians had complained that, although support for the
arts was increasing, much of this manifested itself in a national
“edifice complex”— that more money was being poured into
hundreds of arts halls and centers than into badly-needed support
for artists and arts organizations themselves. Our Fine Arts Center
defied such a trend. More than a cluster of performance and
exhibition spaces, it provided learning and studio space for 900 Fine
Arts majors and 75 faculty members, and was a locus for over 150
arts events annually. It offered, because of its many resources, the
widest possible range in the arts: from the classic to the
contemporary, from the traditional to the experimental and the
challenging. The arts could flourish here, free from the restraints
and limitations of box-office commercialism. In addition, with
opening of this Center, metropolitan Milwaukee had its first multi¬
purpose performing arts building complex.

The Center, of course, also became the home of the Summer Arts
Festival, which had continued and expanded each year. The
selection process for the artists-in-residence began during the
academic year, when faculty committees, departmental chairper¬
sons, and administrators wrote letters, made phone calls, and
conducted interviews. The artists were chosen not only for their
reputation, but for their ability to be articulate and interested
teachers.

Thus, when summer arrived, students, faculty and the communi¬
ty were offered the rich experiences of seeing, hearing, and meeting
great creative personalities from the arts world beyond the campus.
There was stimulation and controversy, and sometimes even shock,
in observing and talking with such gifted people as composers Leon
Kirchner and Milton Babbitt; painters Carl Holty and Lester
Johnson; poets James Dickey and Kenneth Rexroth; dancers Ruth
Currier and Lucas Hoving; musicans Sylvia Marlowe and Leon
Fleisher; and theatre directors Alan Schneider and Gene Frankel.
These — and many others — gave all of us fresh, invigorating ideas
about the arts. Altogether, up to 1974, more than 60 artists-in-
residence came to the campus.

The Arts Festival also included chamber music, modern dance,
ballet, theatre, painting/sculpture/crafts exhibitions and ex¬
perimental film series. There were concerts by a F estival Orchestra
including the members of the Fine Arts Quartet, the New York
Woodwind Quintet (and later our own Woodwind Arts Quintet),
musicians from the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra (and its

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts, UW-Mil

23

predecessors), music faculty, and selected students. Among the
conductors were Thor Johnson, Robert Whitney and Leonard
Sorkin.

As a logical extension of the successful summer program, artists-
in-residence were now appointed during the academic year as well.
The four Fine Arts departments (and in the case of poets, the
English Department cooperating) invited artists to teach, perform,
lecture and conduct workshops.

Enrollments, as well as programs, continued to grow; and, as
student involvement in university policies increased nationally, the
School sought more student advice in academic decisions. In 1968, a
Student Advisory Committee to the Dean was formed; members
(representing their organizations in the various departments) were
recommended by departmental chairpersons. The Committee met
every two months; problems, issues, and proposals were frankly
(and, if requested, confidentially) discussed; and if so directed by
the students recommendations were relayed to the departments.
The departments also created means by which students could
communicate their opinions directly.

With the new quadrangle of buildings, an energetic faculty, and a
steadily increasing enrollment, the School had become not only a
respected academic unit, but a magnetic force for the arts in the
Milwaukee area. The Milwaukee Sentinel described it as a “haven of
the arts,” but our goals went beyond that. In the 1960s the
University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee was one of the pioneering
urban institutions of its kind in the nation. We of the School of Fine
Arts felt we had a mission, a major commitment to our city. We
therefore began to offer both cooperation and initiative to the urban
sector, wherever requested or needed. Major projects developed by
us,4 always in consultation and participation with citizen groups,
were:

The People’s Theatre

Formed in 1968 by G. L. Wallace, who had been appointed Inner City
Arts Consultant to the Dean, this was the city’s first black repertory
group. Despite very limited resources, the company quickly won the
respect of the community and has enjoyed critical and public
approval.

The University Ballet

This, the city’s first continuing ballet ensemble, was organized in 1966
with the participation of faculty and students in the Departments of

24

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Dance, Music, and Theatre Arts. The latter two departments
contributed their resources for staging, design, and a good orchestra.

The Milwaukee Ballet Company

In the fall of 1969 we were asked if the School would co-sponsor an
attempt to found a repertory ballet for Milwaukee. A few months
later, in response to invitations sent out by the School, a group of about
50 ballet enthusiasts met on campus to organize support for such a
group. The School provided rehearsal and performance space for a
number of years; the organization also got advice and participation
from the faculty and students of the Dance Department.

Symphony-on-Campus

For many years the Milwaukee Symphony was invited annually to be
“in residence” for a week on campus. Daily rehearsals in the Fine Arts
Theatre were open to students and public; many thereby had their
first opportunity to attend a symphony rehearsal. The orchestra
included faculty composers’ works in either “reading sessions” or in
concert; and the visit would culminate in a free evening program.

The Community Theatre Institute

The Theatre Arts Department, hoping for a closer relationship with
many community theatres in the area, inaugurated an informal
community theatre organization which later evolved into what is now
a similar state group.

The Preparatory Arts Division

With the realization that in the arts, especially in dance, training must
begin before college age, University Extension Arts, in cooperation
with the School of Fine Arts, began offering pre-college and children’s
classes in dance, theatre, and visual arts. This program has continued
to enroll hundreds of students annually.

Downtown Concerts

Co-sponsored with the First Wisconsin National Bank, the Fine Arts
Quartet, Woodwind Arts Quintet, and other artist/faculty from the
Music Department gave a series of concerts in Vogel Hall (Performing
Arts Center) every spring.

Art Exhibitions

The Department of Art, which got its first full-time gallery director in
1963, mounted literally hundreds of exhibitions in the years 1963-74.
National invitational exhibitions included Paintings, and Sculpture,
’64; the “10/10” Invitational Photography Exhibition; National Crafts

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts , UW-Mil

25

Exhibition; National Print Exhibition; and “Mice that Roar,”
National Political Cartoon Exhibition. Also, the department’s own
faculty and student exhibitions have made the Fine Arts Galleries a
continuous showcase of significant and exciting traditional and
contemporary art every month of the year.

Inner City Film Workshop

This workshop provided a range of activities and experiences for
economically disadvantaged inner-city youth through the medium of
photography. The age range was from 10-18. The younger people
worked with art and animated films, and the older youth dealt with
live-action films and still photography.

The above programs, mentioned to illustrate the School’s outreach
in the urban community, constituted only some of the projects
developed by the departments.

In theatre, at least five classical and contemporary plays received
major productions annually; the small studio theatre was used for
student and experimental plays. The University Players won
national honors from the American College Theatre Festival for a
production staged in Washington D. C. at Kennedy Center.

In music, in addition to the traditional band, symphony orchestra,
and choral concerts, numerous faculty and student recitals and
operas were presented; baroque and contemporary ensembles were
developed. A “Composers’ Showcase” series with works by music
faculty and students was instituted.

In dance, faculty and student concerts were presented each
semester; and companies of international fame— those of Jose
Limon, Erick Hawkins, and others— were brought to the campus
for from one to three weeks, for teaching, workshops, and
performance.

By the time the School celebrated its tenth birthday ( 1973), it had
demonstrated in many ways the advantages of combining the arts
under one academic roof. The North Central Association of Colleges
and Universities described it as follows:

Perhaps this is the most impressive example of how the UWM has
been able to achieve high quality by concentrating its resources.
Unlike its parent campus the Milwaukee campus has been able to
bring together all creative performers in the arts into one School
housed in a single complex, the Fine Arts Center . . . Clearly, from all
respects, this is one of the most distinguished and successful efforts of
the University!

26

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

In enrollment (majors), the School was now among the first 10 of
100 or more similar schools in the nation. Some of its faculty had
achieved international recognition.

The short history of the School also showed that such an academic
structure could nurture a climate of creativity. New student plays
were continually being produced; original faculty and student
choreography was being presented. Of the 147 exhibitors in the
1971 Wisconsin Designer-Craftsmen Exhibition, 47 were faculty,
students, or former students of our Art Department. They received
10 of the 22 awards of the exhibition. Three faculty composers won
national recognition; their works and their students’ works were
performed on campus by faculty and student ensembles.

Although some problems remained, such as the prevalent (and
national) disproportion in salaries between artist-faculty and other
university faculty, and the need for additional classroom and
performance space, solutions were gradually being found. The
auditorium of Engelman Hall, although being renovated for the
School of Architecture, was equipped for some stage and concert
presentations. And, in the spring of 1974, planning was begun for an
extensive renovation of Mitchell Hall, with large areas assigned to
the School. In May of that year, the University Faculty Senate
approved plans for a needed fifth department— Film Arts. And a
new Master of Performing Arts degree was proposed and approved
by our faculty and the University administration, for the next
biennium.

In character with the history of the State of Wisconsin itself, a
history distingushed by innovation and progress in both social and
educational areas, the School of Fine Arts at UWM continued in its
pioneering directions. It demonstrated pragmatically the advan¬
tages of an “alliance” between the arts; that, indeed, such
cooperation was a logical development in a century where art forms
had become more related than ever before. It also demonstrated
that a school of the arts can greatly strengthen the arts in a
metropolitan area. It can use its human and technical resources to
reveal the value and profundity of the old, and at the same time the
excitement and necessity of the new.

Finally, if any single word describes the spirit of this School, it is
“interflow.” F rom the earliest manifestation of cooperation between
departments and visiting summer artists, through the subsequent
formation and development of the School, there was an interflow of
goodwill and mutual effort between administration and faculty,
faculty and students, creators and performers. The physical

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts , UW-Mil

27

proximity, the common curriculum, the innovative programs made
this interflow natural, continual and rewarding for all.

NOTATIONS

1. Artists-in-residence had come to the campus as early as 1955 for the
Summer Evenings of Music series; however, they obviously represented
only one art form.

2. Subsequently, similar schools of the arts have been formed at UW-
Whitewater, UW-Stevens Point, and UW-Superior of the University of
Wisconsin System. 3. The Art History Department elected not to join the
new School.

4. The People's Theatre , Preparatory Arts Division, and the Inner City
Film Workshop were implemented with the invaluable cooperation and
assistance of the University Extension Arts, which also inaugurated many
workshops with the Department of Music.

NEW DEAL WORK PROJECTS AT
THE MILWAUKEE PUBLIC LIBRARY

Daniel F. Ring
Oakland University ,
Roch ester, M i ch iga ) i

“Give a man a dole and you save his body and destroy his spirit;
give him a job and pay him an assured wage and you save both the
body and the spirit/’1 This statement by Harry Hopkins reflects the
philosophy of the New Deal, its creator Franklin D. Roosevelt and
like-minded social thinkers such as Homer Folks. Thus, an
important purpose of the many work-relief bureaus was to
“substitute work for relief”2 so as to restore feelings of self-esteem to
the unemployed.

Some authorities would contend that the unprecedented interven¬
tion of the Federal government caused a revolution in the State-
Federal relationships, not to mention waste and inefficiency, which
is summed up in the word “boondoggling.” The New Deal did effect
a revolution in the nature of the government and there was
undoubtedly a great deal of waste and inefficiency. But to
emphasize only these negative aspects would seriously distort the
picture. In seeking to save the capitalistic system from collapse, the
New Deal made unstinted efforts to salvage human resources.

Many people today are familiar with the New Deal’s ac¬
complishments through an awareness of its physical out¬
croppings— the dams, airports and parks that dot America’s
landscape. But the New Deal also played a sizeable role in fostering
cultural and scholarly programs which became known as “white
collar” jobs because they provided work to such unemployed
professionals as musicians, artists, and clerks. This article will
discuss the origins, nature and results of the “white collar”
enterprises of the Civilian Works Authority (C.W.A.), the Federal
Emergency Relief Administration (F.E.R.A.) and the Works
Projects Administration (W.P.A.) which were administered
through the Milwaukee Public Library.

From 1933 until 1942, the Milwaukee Public Library and the
New Deal were closely linked. Many New Deal programs were of
marginal significance, making no lasting impact on the Library
and contributing nothing of consequence to the cultural heritage of
the community. Among these was the National Industrial Recovery
Act or the N.R.A., as its administration came to be called. The

28

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

29

N.R.A. was an attempt at industrial self-regulation coupled with a
Federal works program. But as it affected the Library, N.R.A.
activity was confined to the regulation of hours in the bindery and
adherence to certain purchasing policies and guidelines.3 By
themselves these agreements were unimportant. Yet, in another
respect, they signalled a readiness on the part of the Library to enter
cooperative undertakings with the Federal government.

Of greater consequence were the varied programs of the C.W.A.
and the F.E.R.A. They ranged from the mundane though necessary
repair and painting of branch and main libraries to artistic and
bibliographic projects such as the reorganization of the card catalog
and the restoration of books. These latter projects involved the
recopying of 287,500 cards and their redistribution throughout the
catalog, and the repair of 17,840 books. These C.W.A. undertakings
gave employment to forty-eight persons including six librarians
and forty- two clerk typists.4 Unfortunately, the task was never
completed, possibly due to a shortage of funds but more likely
because the expenditure of money on library programs per se was
not yet encouraged.5 “Blue collar” maintenance work received
higher priority. Nonetheless, the work that was completed was
considered an important contribution.6 Moreover, the catalog
reorganization was significant in that it represented a departure
from the typical roof repair projects which had characterized so
many C.W.A. library activities.7 A valuable precedent was thus
created for the more expansive white collar programs of the
F.E.R.A. and later the W.P.A.

One such white collar undertaking was an F.E.R.A. music
project. The plan entailed the copying and duplication of “good
music” in manuscript form. (Fig. 1). In all, 755 selections were
completed on master sheets and 67,256 sheets were dittoed.8
Selection was made on the basis of demand and also on the advice of
recognized musicians in the city, among them Herman Smith,
supervisor of music in the Milwaukee Public Schools, and Milton
Rusch of the Milwaukee State Teachers College.9 In addition to
employing twenty to thirty jobless musicians, the plan enabled the
Library’s Art and Music Room to meet a borrower demand beyond
the capacity of normal library appropriations.10 The project
resulted in what was described as a “splendid collection” that was
made available to the general public and also to small churches for
use on Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. It was thought that if the
work were continued, it would, in the words of library director
Mathew S. Dudgeon, “eventuate in the Milwaukee Library having

30

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

FIGURE 1. Music copying under W.E.R.A. Project 40-F5-460.
the finest collection of good music in any library in the country.”11
While a “strict constructionist” might ponder the constitutionality
of these displays of government “aid” to religious bodies, none could
question the pragmatism of the undertaking. It helped the Library
to meet a public need; it put unemployed musicians back to work;
and it was the first successful attempt at employing the white collar
worker within the Library.

Many C.W.A. and F.E.R.A. projects were haphazardly planned,
inadequately funded, or faced with bureaucratic impediments.
This was particularly true of the C.W.A. and applied not only to the
reorganization of the card catalog, and to book repairs but to “blue
collar” programs as well.12 The Library also attempted to use
F.E.R.A. funds to finish repair jobs which had not been completed
by the C.W.A.13 One can surmise that the C.W.A., in providing
relief, had embarked upon a murky area in Federal-local
relationships, undefined and unprecedented. Consequently,
programs such as the catalog reorganization were eliminated
because of uncertainties as to whether Federal funds could be used
solely for library-related work. Moreover, the C.W.A. was a short
term effort of only five months. The above limitations were not

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work, Library

31

peculiar to the Milwaukee Public Library but were characteristic
of most C.W.A. and F.E.R.A. programs throughout the country.
Hiring restrictions, for example, limited library work almost
exclusively to “blue collar” projects.14

On the other hand, both the C.W.A. and the F.E.R.A. allowed the
Library to satisfy patron demands which would have been
impossible with the Library’s restricted financial resources. It is
interesting to note that such library projects did not constitute
“made work”, as even the maintenance jobs were long overdue, or,
like the catalog reorganization, had been planned years in advance.
They did not constitute “boondoggling” as that word is generally
understood.

The W.P.A., the third New Deal bureaucracy to operate within
the Library, was the most successful in terms of duration, lasting
contributions and sheer variety of programs. Undoubtedly much of
the W.P.A. success in the Milwaukee Public Library can be
attributed to the fact that both local and Federal officials learned a
great deal from their past mistakes.15 There was not the same pell-
mell rush to put people to work as was typical of other works
programs. Rather, the W.P.A. possessed what one writer has called
a “unity of purpose” and a “continuity of operation”16 which lent a
characteristic stability to all of its undertakings.

Initially, W.P.A. programs were characterized by the stock-in-
trade manual labor projects. But they were important. Consider, for
example, the repair of books. During 1935-1936 alone 422,841 books
were renovated17 and tens of thousands more in the years following.
(Fig. 2). In fact, the enormity of the book binding project was such
that Dudgeon noted that he knew of no bindery prepared to do that
amount of work.18 In any case, the limited city budget which had
already reduced Library expenditures by twenty-five per cent
simply would not allow for sending books out for repair.19 The
binding project takes on an added significance, when it is
considered that thousands of volumes were in “desperately bad
condition” and some collections near collapse.20 To prevent
deterioration, W.P.A. workers shellacked and varnished the covers
of all new books and reinforced their bindings, thereby doubling the
books’ durability. Similar procedures were applied to older books.
Without this conservation policy, the library might have ex¬
perienced a net loss of over 100,000 volumes.21 Richard Krug, who
succeeded Dudgeon in 1941, fully appreciated the W.P.A.’s
contribution when he wrote to a W.P.A. supervisor, “I cannot
emphasize too strongly the importance of the W.P.A. menders and

32

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 2. Book mending under Project 7787.

book repairers to the library,” further noting that the the institution
could not have assumed such a burden by itself.22 The total Federal
contribution to the project came to $877,475, which was really a
small price considering what was gained.23

As the W.P.A. gained momentum, it branched out into areas
which suggested imagination and special concern for the needs of
artists, businessmen, and scholars. White collar work became
dominant and questions of whether money could be used for library
work per se were no longer raised. Included were bibliographic and
indexing undertakings of major proportions: the indexing of the
federal censuses for 1860 and 1870, a Union List of Serials, and the
Milwaukee Sentinel Newspaper Index.

The census indices were important for several reasons: They
could be used to establish eligibility for citizenship and for pensions.
They were also of historical value at the State Historical Society of
Wisconsin. Undoubtedly, they aided many genealogists doing
research in family history. Hitherto it had been difficult and time
consuming, if not impossible, to locate the name of a forebear
because names were entered in the order in which the census taker
visited the homes. But the 70,000 index cards which the project
created were alphabetically arranged with a citation to the volume
and page where the name could be found.24 Almost forty years after

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

33

its creation, the census indices located in the Local History Room of
the Milwaukee Public Library remain an important research tool,
both for the amateur genealogist and especially for the Milwaukee
County Genealogical Society.

Unquestionably the most significant W.P.A. venture in the
Milwaukee Public Library was the Milwaukee Sentinel Newspaper
Index, jointly sponsored by the Library, the Milwaukee State
Teachers College, and the Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors.
It was hoped that the Index would “supply an unbroken chain of
information from the earliest days to the present day.”25 The
Milwaukee Sentinel was chosen both because it was the earliest
newspaper in circulation and because it provided the best
continuity and had the largest number of issues available.

Newspaper indexing was a common W.P.A. library project
throughout the United States. The Cleveland Public Library had its
Annals of Cleveland . But the Sentinel Index was unique in that all
information about a person or subject appeared under one entry and
thus saved the researcher the bother of having to consult a number
of volumes, as in the Annals. Like the Annals , the Sentinel Index
was never completed. Only the years 1837-1879 were finished. The
library was left holding over 750,000 cards, 70,000 feet of
microfilm, and several thousand unfinished entries.26 Although
incomplete, the Index stands at the pinnacle of W.P.A.
achievements. It remains today as a major aid for the historian, the
student and the genealogist doing research on Milwaukee and
Wisconsin.27

The Union List of Periodicals was the last link in the triad of
bibliographic projects. The plan was a cooperative undertaking of
the Municipal Reference Library in City Hall, the Milwaukee
Public Library, and the Milwaukee chapter of the Special Libraries
Association. The Reference Room of the Milwaukee Public Library
played an important role in assembling and coordinating the list.
The purpose of the Union List was to increase bibliographic access
to expensive business magazines, proceedings, and other
periodicals which were owned by several business libraries in the
city and by the Milwaukee Public Library. This could be done by
compiling a list of libraries that held certain titles. It was felt that
the List would have the dual advantage of pooling resources but
allow the libraries to retain their own identities. The outcome of the
project, a 250 page book which gave the libraries access to 5,000
reference sources, was indeed a marked improvement from the
previous average of 44 magazines in each library.28 Aside from its

34

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

obvious value of broadening the base of what were frequently very
specialized publications, the Union List demonstrated the
innovative ways in which the W.P.A. and its co-sponsors were able
to respond to the needs of Milwaukee’s businesses and industrial
economy.

A second major division of white collar work consisted of a variety
of art and music programs, from the preparation of music scores to
live performances. The library’s role rested upon its willingness to
be sole sponsor as well as to cooperate with other agencies. For
example, W.P.A. bands gave live performances at the Library.29
The significance of these concerts should not be overlooked as they
undoubtedly served to relieve some mental anxieties, furthered
social contacts and perhaps helped people temporarily to forget
their economic plights.

Copying of music was another program carried out by the
Federal Music Project. The plan was essentially a continuation of
the W.E.R.A. project noted earlier but far more extensive in that it
attempted to raise the cultural level of the community. For
example, it provided for the teaching of music to under-privileged
groups and for lectures, forums and panel discussions on “music as
an art and as a social agency”.30 The copying itself was a success both
locally and nationally. Worked out by the Library’s capable
director, M. S. Dudgeon, it employed up to sixty eight musicians
who copied scores on which the copyrights had expired. Some of the
scores were rare and old compositions lent to the library by local
musicians who had extensive musical libraries.31 Exact figures as to
how many pieces were copied, vary and were admittedly difficult to
tabulate. But one report noted that from 322 selections there were
made 5,999 masters and 42,386 dittos.32 The scores were kept in the
library and lent to the public on the same basis as library books.
From 1939-1941, over 2900 selections were circulated.33 That the
music attained the highest standards of excellence is evidenced by
the fact that Bach’s Chorales were used by the Music Educators
National Conference and the State Teachers Convention.34
Moreover, the project attracted attention from other parts of the
Midwest. Librarians came from Ohio, Michigan and Indiana to
observe what was being done in the Library.35

The music copying project was important because of the quality
of the work, the people it employed, and the cultural heritage it
created for the Library. Almost thirty years after its completion,
Richard Krug could still affirm that the W.P.A. orchestration
copying project was “a valuable part of the library’s music
collection.”36

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work, Library

35

Library exhibits on practical how-to-do-it skills such as etchings,
woodcuts, lithography, and air brush art were yet other facets of
W.P.A. “art” work.37 These exhibits were important because they
furnished employment and because they indicated a reluctance to
give narrow interpretations to the idea of art. Once again, the
pragmatic and innovative character of the New Deal carried the
day.

W.P.A. , like many New Deal recovery and reform agencies, fell
victim to World War II. Yet it is interesting to note the degree to
which the onset of war shaped the character of some later W.P.A.
programs. As war clouds hovered over Europe, America’s munition
plants began to tool up as the “arsenal of democracy.” F.D.R.’s
image as “Dr. New Deal” was replaced with “Dr. Win-the-War.”
Similarly, the W.P.A. played important roles in national defense
both in the construction of war material and in serving as an
information source, once America entered the conflict. Playing a
part in the latter capacity was the War Information Center of the
Milwaukee Public Library.

The War Information Center was established by the Library in
conjunction with the W.P.A. to deal with a variety of war-related
questions which “cut across the normal divisions of library work.”38
Its functions were threefold: to supply information about the war’s
progress on both home and fighting fronts; to keep records of
Milwaukee’s part in the war effort; and to cooperate with the
Victory Book Campaign.39

These activities were influenced by the trends of the war. In the
initial stages of the conflict, the thrust of the Center was toward
civilian defense. Thus, it maintained lists of air raid wardens in
Milwaukee County, indexed a twelve volume set of Milwaukeeans
who had served in World War I, clipped newspapers for
information related to the city’s war efforts, and maintained index
cards on Milwaukee County men and women in the service.40 As
more and more Americans faced the prospects of induction, as the
public wanted to know about areas in which their countrymen were
fighting, or the names of important allied and axis military
personnel, the center’s work gravitated toward the military
aspects.41

When one views the multitude of tasks to which the War
Information Center addressed itself, it is easy to understand the
disappointment that followed the closing of the Center, a victim of
the W.P.A. ’s dissolution in 1942. The quality of its contributions is
the more surprising in that it was staffed by fourteen people with

36

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

little or no library experience.42 So successful was the Center that it
received national recognition from the National War Office of
Civilian Defense and the American Library Association for its
community activities.43 The Board of Trustees made a concerted
effort to save the Center by operating it under Library auspices
because of its informational services and because it was the only
department in the county that kept a systematic record of
Milwaukee’s role in the war.44 But these efforts came to nothing.
Support within the Board of Estimates was lukewarm at best.45

With the closing of the Center, the work of the New Deal in the
Library came to an end. Its overall accomplishments were
important both then and now. Its services permitted the Library to
fulfill some normal obligations to the public which had been
curtailed by depression budgets, and some of the projects, notably
the Sentinel Index, went far beyond the normal expectations of
library service. Some of the W.P.A. work survives to this day. The
Local History Room has thousands of war related photographs left
from the War Information Center; the census indices are a
continuing boon to genealogical workers; and one could scarcely
imagine not using the Sentinel Index for research on Milwaukee
and State history prior to 1879.

Surprisingly, all of these achievements were carried out with an
absence of serious friction. There were no fights over “turf,” as it
were, between W.P.A. and library personnel. Rather the
relationship was one of “unusual cooperation.”46 Perhaps this
harmony can be attributed to the leadership provided by the city
librarians, Matthew Dudgeon and Richard Krug. Both men had
excellent administrative backgrounds which created a “can-do”
atmosphere.47 Interestingly enough, both had law degrees and no
formal training in librarianship. One should also consider that the
caliber of W.P.A. workers assigned to library projects was
uniformly high. The depression had created a desperate
employment situation which encouraged in many a desire for work
and productivity. This positive outlook toward the W.P.A. projects
was shared by Milwaukeeans in general. As one former W.P.A.
supervisor has commented, “people wanted to work.”48

It is also worth noting that library participation in the New Deal
was comprehensive in scope and not limited to one small or
traditional aspect of library operations. This is best illustrated by
pointing to some of the projects which never materialized. Among
them were plans for a separate Sports Room; a Collection of F oreign
Language Publications which would have operated like a union list;

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

37

and especially, a Circulation Survey Project which would have
attempted to determine precisely how many people used the library
and when.49 No evidence remains as to why these plans were never
carried out. Yet they strongly indicate that everything within the
library from circulation to technical operations was thoroughly
appraised so as to improve services to all clients.

The increasing contributions of the C.W.A., F.E.R.A. and the
W.P.A. to the Library take on a final significance, when one
compares Federal expenditures for white collar projects in the
Library with those in other city institutions. In 1935, the Library
ranked eighth out of seventeen agencies, receiving but 0.35% of
Federal appropriations. By 1942, it ranked second out of eleven,
receiving 6.31%.50 This sharp increase reflects the diversification
and expansion of white collar work and usefulness which allowed
the W.P.A. to prosper even after the war had started. By way of
comparison, the W.P.A. in the Cleveland Public Library was
moribund by 1940.

One could conclude by saying that the white collar thrust of the
New Deal was momentous because of its utility, the quality of its
work, or because of its legacies to the community. But Harry
Hopkins captured the true flavor and humanity of its intent in his
frequently quoted statement that the unemployed white collar
workers got hungry, and they too had to eat.51

NOTATIONS

!Quoted in William W. Breme, “Along the American Way”: The New
Deal’s Work Relief Programs for the Unemployed, Jour. Amer. Hist. 62,
637, 1975.

2William Leuchtenberg, Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal New
York, p. 124, 1963.

3M . S . Dudgeon, Secretary of the Board of Trustees and library director
to Joseph W. Nicholson, City of Milwaukee purchasing agent, Sept. 16,
1933; “Minutes of the Board of Trustees,” Dec. 12, 1933; “Memo for
Consideration of the Board,” Oct. 10, 1935; Frank T. Boesel, Milwaukee
N . R. A . Compliance Board, to M . S . Dudgeon, April 3, 1934. All citations
in Proceedings of the Board of Trustees. Hereafter cited as Proceedings.

4“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 12, 1933; Dudgeon to R . E .
Stoelting, Commissioner of Public Works and city member of the Local
Civil Works Board, Dec. 2, 1933, Proceedings. Unidentified typescript,
“Final Completion Report for C.W.A. Project #151, Dec. 8, 1933.

5“Minutes of the Board of Trustees,” Dec. 12, 1933, Proceedings.

6“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Apr. 10, 1934, Proceedings.

7Dudgeon to Stoelting, Dec. 2, 1933, Proceedings.

8Typescript, “Progress Report,” W.E.R. A. Project 40-F5-460. Copying

38

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

and Reproducing Music. Hereafter cited as W . E . R . A . Project 40-F5-460.

9Clipping, Milwaukee Leader, Feb. 2, 1934, W.E.R.A. Project 40-
F5-460.

10“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Jan. 8, 1935, Proceedings.

n“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 12, 1933; “Minutes of the
Board of Trustees,” May 14, 1935; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,”
Mar. 12, 1935. Proceedings; clipping, Milwaukee Leader, Feb. 2, 1934;
W.E.R.A. Project 40-F5-460. The music project operated under the aegis
of the Wisconsin Emergency Relief Administration (W.E.R.A.), which
distributed federal funds. See William P. Raney, Wisconsin, A Story of
Progress, New York, p. 495-497, 1940.

12Both of these projects were revised under the F . E . R . A . See typescript,
“Cataloging, Filing, Book Rehabilitation,” July 17, 1935. Project 40-F7-
150. Records and Catalog.

13“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” May 8, 1934, Proceedings.

14See Edward Barrett Stanford, Library Extension under the W.P.A., An
Appraisal of an Experiment in Federal Aid, University of Chicago Press,
1944 p. 24, 31.

15Interview: Harry Janicki, former supervisor of W.P. A. projects, June
23, 1976, Brown Deer, Wisconsin.

16Stanford, op. cit., p. 2.

17“Summary of Situation,” Mar. 8, 1937, Proceedings.

18Dudgeon to C.J. McGrane, Project Engineer, Jan. 26, 1939. Project
447. Rehabilitation of Books.

19Roy Charmock, District Director to Don Teter, W.P. A. Supervisor,
Sept. 23, 1935, Ibid; typescript, “Supplementary Information and
Operating Schedule Sponsor No. 229” Project 7787. Book Binding and
Repair.

20“Summary of Situation,” Mar. 8, 1937. Proceedings.

21 Ibid.

22Krug to Harriet Clinton, W.P. A. Supervisor, July 14, 1941, W.P. A.
Mending Project.

23“W.P.A. Mending Project Copy” W.P. A. Mending Project. The
project was not limited to book repair but also included the preparation of
bibliographies, the cataloging of unclassified library materials and several
other tasks. See Project 7787. Book Binding and Repair.

24“A brief summary of library activities for 1937,” Mar. 8, 1938,
Proceedings.

2bIbid; Milwaukee Newspaper Index Project (Manual) September, 1941.

26Daniel F. Ring, “The Cleveland Public Library and the W.P. A.: A
Study in Creative Partnership,” Ohio Hist. 84; (Summer, 1975) 160;
Minutes of the Board of Estimates, Oct. 29, 1942, p. 420-421; “Minutes of the
Board of Trustees,” Oct. 13, 1942, Proceedings; Milwaukee Newspaper
Index Project.

27Clipping, Milwaukee Sentinel, Dec. 18, 1963, Milwaukee Sentinel Index
File. In 1969 Dr. Herbert Rice began the awesome task of “editing,
combining, alphabetizing, and interalphabetizing” the items for the years
1880-1890. For further information see his “The Milwaukee Sentinel
Index,” Milwaukee Reader and Calendar of Local Events, 30, Apr. 24, 1972.

2SUnion List of Periodicals (Manual) preface, Mar. 20, 1939.

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work , Library

39

29William V. Arvold, State Supervisor, W . P . A . Music Project, To Krug,
Apr. 23, 1941, W.P.A. Music Copying Project.

30Teter to Dudgeon, Oct. 9, 1939. Project 10032. Music State Wide.

31 Milwaukee Journal , Aug. 25, 1935; Dudgeon to Teter, Nov. 13, 1938.
W.P.A. Music Copying Project.

32“Final Report W.P.A. Program — City of Milwaukee,” Oct. 1, 1942.
Project 2211. Copying and reproducing music scores to be kept in
Public Library.

33“Art Department,” Department Reports, 1941.

34“Art and Music Department,” Progress Reports, 1942.

35 Milwaukee Journal, Aug. 25, 1935.

36Clipping, Milwaukee Journal, Feb. 11, 1975. Milwaukee Public Library
Clipping Collection. The Catalog of Musical Selections in Milwaukee Public
Library Reproduced under the Federal Music Project, (1937) is itself a
superb guide and well worth looking at.

37“Art and Music Department,” Progress Reports, 1942.

38“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 8, 1942, Proceedings; A . L .
Wapp, Superintendent, W . P . A. to Krug, Aug. 5, 1941. War Information
Center.

39“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 8, 1942. Proceedings;
“Sponsors Request for Project Authorization and Sponsors Agreement,”
War Information Center; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Jan. 13,
1942, Proceedings. The Victory Book Campaign was an effort on the part of
the Red Cross, the U.S.O. and the American Library Association to
acquire books for servicemen.

40“War Information Center,” Progress Reports, 1942.

41Unidentified newspaper clipping, May 25, 1942, Milwaukee Public
Library Clipping Collection.

42“War Information Center,” Progress Reports, 1942.

43Krug to Wapp, Apr. 13, 1942. Project 1005. Library-State- Wide.

44Unidentified newspaper clipping, Dec. 9, 1942, Milwaukee Public
Library Clipping Collection; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec.
8, 1942, Proceedings.

45 Minutes of the Board of Estimates, Dec. 9, 1942.

46Dr. Herbert Rice, former supervisor of Sentinel Index, communication
to author, May 30, 1976.

^Interview, Harry Janicki, June 23, 1976; Interview, Kenneth
Haagensen, former Project Director, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, June 25, 1976;
telephone interview, Harry Friedman, former projects technical advisor
for Sentinel Index, June 11, 1976. Dudgeon had served in various capacities
as a lawyer, legislator and district attorney before becoming director in
1920. Krug had been Municipal Reference Librarian 1930-1939 and
assistant city librarian from 1939-1941.

^Interview, Harry Janicki, June 23, 1976.

49See folders “W.P.A. Sports Room,” “W.P.A. Circulation Survey
Project” and “W.P.A. Miscellaneous” in Local History Room, Milwaukee
Public Library.

50City of Milwaukee W.P.A. Work Accomplished and Money Expended,
1935-36, 191+2-1+3. In 1935, white collar work in the city bureaus ranked in
the following order: School Board, Public Museum, City Comptroller,

40

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Health Department, Tax Assessor, Fire Department, Vocational School,
Public Library, City Treasurer, Building Inspector, Real Estate Division,
Harbor Commission, Land Commission, City Clerk, Municipal Reference
Library, City Attorney, Layton Art Gallery. In 1942, the order was Land
Commission, Public Library, Civilian Defense, Health Department, Public
Museum, School Board, City Comptroller, Municipal Reference Library,
Building Inspector, City Treasurer, Tax Enforcement.

51Cited in Frank Freidel, American Historians: a Bicentennial
Appraisal, Jour. Amer. Hist. 63 (June, 1976), p. 7.

LANDFORM DISTRIBUTION AND GENESIS IN THE
LANGLADE AND GREEN BAY GLACIAL LOBES,
NORTH-CENTRAL WISCONSIN

Alan R. Nelson
Boulder , Colorado
and

David M. Mickelson

University Wisconsin
—Madison

ABSTRACT

Landforms in the Langlade Lobe have a distribution
characteristic of many glacial lobes in the midwest. In the nothern
part of the Green Bay Lobe, landform distribution is more complex,
with several recessional moraines and extensive areas blanketed
with outwash and ice-contact stratified drift. Three landform zones
are recognized: 1) an end moraine zone made up of five ridge types
based on orientation, lithology, and form; 2) an intermediate zone of
ground moraine, eskers, and kames (not present in the Green Bay
Lobe); and 3) a zone of erosional drumlins.

The Langlade Lobe advanced twice from the highlands of the
Upper Peninsula of Michigan obliquely down the regional bedrock
slope. The Green Bay Lobe repeatedly advanced up the regional
bedrock slope out of the Green Bay lowland. The differences in
landform distribution and development between the two lobes is
due primarily to contrasting bedrock slopes of the glacier bed and
secondarily to the pattern of advances and retreats of each lobe.

INTRODUCTION

Numerous authors have noted a similarity in the distribution of
glacial landforms in areas formerly covered by the lobes of
continental ice sheets (Flint, 1971). The fact that this classic
distribution is so common despite differences in the scale, thermal
regime, and bed lithology of the glaciers involved suggests that the
distribution of landforms in glacial landscapes is determined
primarily by 1) the glaciological conditions which prevailed at or
near the maximum of a glacial advance, and 2) the location of the
landforms with respect to the center of the ice sheet or lobe (Sugden
and John, 1976). However, not all glacial landscapes exhibit this
classic distribution due to a number of other locally important
factors (Clayton and Moran, 1974). We will discuss the importance

41

42

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

of two of these factors — regional bedrock slope and glacial history
— in determining landform distribution in the Langlade and Green
Bay glacial lobes in north-central Wisconsin.

Because only one major recessional moraine exists, and in most
areas is adjacent to the terminal moraine, the landforms of the
Langlade Lobe conform to the classic distribution of landforms
within a lobe. The landform distribution in the northern part of the
Green Bay Lobe is more complex, with several recessional moraines
and extensive areas blanketed with outwash and ice-contact
stratified drift. We will discuss the landforms of both lobes in terms
of zones similar to those proposed by Clayton and Moran (1974),
Sugden and John (1976), and earlier workers, in which sets of
landforms exist in an orderly fashion. We feel that the degree of
development of these zones can be explained primarily by the
differences in the pre-Woodfordian topography of the areas over
which these lobes advanced. As Thwaites (1943) noted, the ice from
the Green Bay Lobe advanced up the regional slope out of the Green
Bay Lowland. The ice of the Langlade Lobe, after crossing the
highlands of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, advanced obliquely
down the regional slope. Other factors, such as differences in the
length of time the ice was in an equilibrium position, the thermal
regime of the base, or bed lithology, which might have influenced
landform distribution and development are difficult to distinguish
from the overriding influence of topography.

We have previously discussed the till lithologies and glacial
chronology in north-central Wisconsin in detail in Mickelson,
Nelson, and Stewart (1974) and Nelson(1973). During Woodfordian
(late Wisconsin) time, ice advanced into north-central Wisconsin
from the southeast (Green Bay Lobe), the northeast (Langlade
Lobe), and the north and northwest (Wisconsin Valley Lobe) (Fig.
1). Prominent terminal moraines were built by each lobe and the
existence of these moraines has been recognized since the work of
Chamberlin (1883.). The lobes were named by Weidman(1907) who
assumed the ice advances in each lobe were simultaneous.
Subsequent reconnaissance mapping by Thwaites (1943), who
named all of the moraines mentioned in this study except the
Harrison Moraine, outlined the basic distribution of drift in the
Langlade and Green Bay Lobes. Thwaites argued that the
deposition of the terminal moraines in the three lobes was
contemporaneous and that ice masses of the Langlade Lobe and
Green Bay Lobe were in contact with each other during retreat.
From our recent work we can demonstrate that these moraines are

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms , N. C. Wisconsin

43

MILES

FIGURE 1. Location map of north-central Wisconsin showing ice flow
directions, major moraines, drift boundaries, and other
physiographic features. The Merrill and Wausau Drifts and
Schelke Bog Site which pre-date the late Wisconsin moraines
are discussed in Stewart & Mickelson (1976).

not really time equivalents, although all of the events described took
place during Woodfordian time (about 12,500-20,000 years ago).

THE LANDFORM ZONES

End Moraine Zone

Our end moraine zone is much like the wastage zone of Sugden
and John (1976) and the marginal suite of Clayton and Moran
(1974), consisting mainly of till ridges oriented parallel to the
former ice margin with some ice disintegration features along the
inner edge of the zone.

Four genetically different lithologies make up the sediments of
the end moraine zone — lodgement till, ablation till, ice-contact
stratified drift, and outwash. Differences between ice-contact
stratified drift and outwash are due chiefly to deposition behind and
in front of the ice margin respectively (Price, 1973). Although more
detailed till classifications have been proposed (Boulton, 1968; 1970)
we prefer the two-fold lodgement-ablation classification used by
Flint (1971) and Dreimanis and Vagners (1971) because of
difficulty in distinguishing till deposited by meltout and flow
processes particularly in coarse-grained tills.

44

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Lodgement tills in north-central Wisconsin can be distinguished
from ablation tills on the basis of stratigraphic position, thickness,
color, grain size variability, and pebble fabric orientation (Nelson,
1973). Lodgement till in the end moraine zone of the Langlade Lobe
is typically l-7m thick with red-brown (2.5YR4/6 to 5YR4/4) colors,
massive to platy structure, approximately 6% clay, and strong
pebble fabrics perpendicular to the larger end moraines. The
overlying ablation till is light brown (7.5YR6/3) in color, massive to
semistratified and very friable, and has no preferred pebble
orientation, at least from outcrop to outcrop. Grain size distribution
in the latter averages 73% sand, 26% silt, and 1% clay, but is highly
variable, as is the thickness (0-4m).

In the Langlade Lobe the end moraine extends from the distal
edge of the Parrish Moraine to the proximal edge of the Summit
Lake Moraine, and averages 12 km in width (Fig. 2). Due to the

oMNE wTERWEDltfE
£ND w°Rk' ZONE

ZONE

drunal'N

ZONE

LANGLADE

lobe

green bay
lobe

FIGURE 2. Physiographic diagrams of general landform distribution in
the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes. The diagrams are not to
scale, but are diagrammatic illustration of the landform zones
and features (referenced by capital letters) found in each lobe.

A. Outwash fan

B. Outwash plain

C. Marsh Deposit

D. Kettle-hole (dry)

E. Kettle-hole lake

F. Outwash apron on moraine
front

G. Karnes

H. Drumlin

I. Ridges of till parallel to ice
front (Type 1)

J. Ridges of till perpendicular to
ice front (Type 2)

K. Ridges of sand and gravel
perpendicular to ice front
(Type 3)

L. Ridges of sand and gravel
parallel to ice front (Type 4)

M. Esker

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

45

many recessional moraines and extensive outwash deposits, the end
moraine zone of the Green Bay Lobe is wider (16 km), extending
from the distal edge of the Outer Moraine to the drumlin zone, with
no distinguishable intermediate zone of low ground moraine
composed of till and ice-contact stratified drift, as in the Langlade
Lobe.

The complex and widely distributed ridges which make up most
features in the end moraine zones of each lobe can be divided into
five types (Fig. 2): ridges composed dominantly of lodgement till
and oriented parallel to the ice margin (Type 1), those made up of
lodgement till and oriented perpendicular to the ice margin (Type
2), those made up of ablation till and stratified drift and oriented
perpendicular to the ice margin (Type 3), those made up of ablation
till and stratified drift and oriented parallel to the ice margin (Type
4), and those without particular orientation (Type 5).

Type 1 Ridges

Type 1 till ridges, oriented parallel to the former ice margin,
average 1.2 km in length, 300 m in width, and 20 m in height in the
Outer Moraine and are up to 1.5 km long, 400 m wide, and 30 m high
in the Parrish Moraine (Fig. 3). Although they are lower and less
continuous, these ridges are also present within the recessional
moraines throughout the Green Bay Lobe. The higher relief in the
Parrish and Summit Lake Moraines results in more exposures in
these ridges, some of which contain lodgement till with pebble
fabrics (Nelson, 1973) consistent with expected ice flow directions
overlain by up to several meters of ablation till. The origin of these
ridges, however, is uncertain. They may be due to increased
deposition where till was sheared up along concentrations of shear
planes near the ice margin, followed by meltout deposition of
ablation till.

The smaller ridges containing lodgement till may have been
formed in part by ice shove or stacking of till near the margin.
Exposures are poor, however, and evidence for this is lacking.
Another possibility is that most basal till deposition was taking
place in a very narrow zone near the ice margin and that the ridges
represent brief pauses in retreat of ice margin position or pulses in
the rate of till deposition in time.

Type 2 Ridges

Although far less common than other ridge types in the Parrish
and Summit Lake Moraines, Type 2 ridges, perpendicular to the ice

46

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

km

FIGURE 3. Lodgement till ridges oriented parallel to ice flow (solid
arrows) and perpendicular to ice flow (dashed arrows) in the
Parrish Moraine of the Langlade Lobe north of the town of
Antigo (Fig. 1). North is at top of map (from USGS Elcho S. E.
Quadrangle).

margin, occur in parts of the proximal side of the Parrish Moraine.
Here parallel ridges of lodgement till (some with aim veneer of
ablation till) are about 10 m high and 100-150 m apart (Figs. 2 and
3). They begin abruptly at the proximal edge of the moraine and
extend nearly to the crest. Mechanical analyses, till color, and a till
fabric measurement indicate that these ridges are composed of
basal till and represent large grooves on the till surface. No
evidence was found for features of this type in the Green Bay Lobe,
although similar ridges in this lobe could have been buried by later
outwash.

Type S Ridges

Type 3 features are ice disintegration ridges as defined by
Gravenor and Kupsch (1959). Most of those perpendicular to the

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms , N. C. Wisconsin

47

former ice margin are probably ice channel fillings formed both
above and beneath the ice. The largest ridges (700 m long, 200 m
wide, and 10 m high) are found in the Langlade Lobe, primarily
near the crest of the moraines and on their distal sides (Fig. 2). No
flow direction studies have been done, but these ridges were
probably deposited by water flowing toward the outer margin of the
ice or by slumping of washed materials into longitudinal (splaying)
crevasses.

Several much larger features found only in the Green Bay Lobe,
are channels which have ice disintegration ridges 20 m high lining
their sides, are up to 12 km long and 0.5 km wide and appear to be
ice-contact drainageways which were meltwater outlets while the
Green Bay Lobe was at the Outer Moraine (Figs. 2 and 4). The
channels are the result of either subglacial drainage similar to the
tunnel valleys of the Superior Lobe in Minnesota discussed by
Wright (1973) or large englacial or supraglacial streams flowing

FIGURE 4. Two examples of large ice-contact drainageways (solid
arrows) through the Outer Moraine (dashed line) of the Green
Bay Lobe about 8 km northeast of the town of Antigo (Fig. 1).
The drainageways were the primary outlets for meltwater
while the ice was at the position of the Outer Moraine. North is
at top of map (from USGS Antigo S. E. Quadrangle, 1976).

48

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

out of or off the ice. The hydrostatic head needed to develop channels

flowing up the regional slope may have been supplied by a
northwest sloping ice surface profile. Ice flowing to the northwest
from the center of the lobe in Green Bay would have provided such a

-^-km

FIGURE 5. Air photo stereopair (photo no. BHW-5-44, 45, 1936) in the
western part of the Parrish Moraine (NE 1/4, S24, T33N,
R10E) showing parallel ridges of sand and gravel which are
probably small coalescing outwash fans built synchronously
along an ice margin. Symbols on the upper photo refer to an
earlier soils mapping sheet.

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

49

gradient. That deposition of material was predominantly on or in
ice can be seen by the collapsed nature of the deposits.

Type h Ridges

Ice disintegration ridges generally parallel to the ice margin
occur discontinuously in the Parrish Moraine along its distal edge.
South of Summit Lake the largest ridges are 4 km long and reach a
height of 17 m. Five roughly parallel ridges occur en echelon in this
part of the moraine (Figs. 2 and 5). Exposures in these features show
inclined planar-bedded sand and gravel suggesting that the ridges
are small coalescing outwash fans built synchronously along an ice
margin.

In the Green Bay Lobe the smaller scale features of this type are
not prominent, but thick, widespread sheets of outwash found in
some areas of the Green Bay Lobe might have been spread over thin
stagnant ice, thus hiding the evidence for disintegration ridges
forming during deglaciation. In fact, the extensive pitted outwash
in the Green Bay Lobe is probably analogous to these ridges in the
Langlade Lobe. However, along the proximal edge of and within the
Elderon Moraine (Fig. 1), large channels up to 5 km long and 0.5 km
wide and oriented parallel with the moraine have been eroded in the
drift (Fig. 2). Also noted by Thwaites (1943), these probably were
developed along an ice margin between the higher areas of
recessional moraine as the ice stagnated during retreat. No
analogous channels have been identified in the Langlade Lobe.

Type 5 Deposits

The end moraine zones of both the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes
also contain numerous smaller ice-contact forms (Type 5 deposits)
such as ice-contact rings, kames, kettles, and moraine lake plateaus
like those which have been described from other areas of ice
stagnation (Parizek, 1969). The size of these features suggests that a
debris layer several meters thick must have covered some areas of
the ice near the terminus. Exposures in these deposits contain large
blocks of slumped sediment, flow structures, blocks of till within
stratified bodies of sand and gravel, and irregular thicknesses of
ablation till due to topographic inversion during disintegration of
the ice masses. The density and relief of these features in the Green
Bay Lobe is less than in the Langlade Lobe due to partial burial by
extensive, pitted outwash deposits. The moraine lakes which built

50

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the small circular plaeaus in the Parrish Moraine were of the
“uncoalesced ice-walled” type proposed by Clayton and Cherry
( 1967) and were formed over a short period in a relatively unstable
stagnant ice environment. Several small circular elevated plains
found in the Outer Moraine south of Antigo may also have a moraine
lake origin.

Outwash

Additional depositional contrasts are evident in the outwash
areas in front of the end moraine zones of each lobe. A wedge-shaped
apron of outwash was deposited along the Parrish Moraine of the
Langlade Lobe, while the ice stood at the moraine. Exposures up to
15 m deep near the moraine contain coarse, bouldery outwash which
gradually thins to the south. The gently rolling topography with a
southerly bedrock slope enabled streams from the Langlade Lobe to
spread this outwash over a wide area as far south as Antigo (Figs. 1
and 2).

The outwash in front of the Outer Moraine of the Green Bay Lobe
is also quite extensive in the Antigo flats area, although the apron is
not as thick and continuous near the moraine. The latest drainage
from the ice carried water southward along the moraine front into
the present Eau Claire River drainage south of Antigo. Drainage
from the Parrish Moraine probably also contributed to the cutting
of channels across the flats. The large ice-contact drainageways
described under Type 3 ridges may have provided much of the
outwash on the Antigo flats. Each of the drainageways deposited an
outwash fan where it breaches the Outer Moraine (Figs. 2 and 4),
suggesting that while the Green Bay Lobe stood at the Outer
Moraine, large streams flowing from under or within the ice were
depositing outwash over the Antigo plain. As the ice retreated from
the moraine, the relief of the moraine and the southeast bedrock
slope insured that later outwash was deposited within and between
the later recessional moraines.

Intermediate Zone of Ground Moraine

The intermediate zone of ground moraine (Fig. 2), from 0 to 8 km
wide, is present only in the Langlade Lobe where it consists of low,
rolling ground moraine of thin till and ice-contact stratified drift
with eskers up to 10 km long and numerous kames. These features
were partially buried by outwash along the distal side of the

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

51

Summit Lake Moraine. Little ablation debris is present on the
lodgement till in this zone. Sugden and John (1976) attribute the
lack of ablation till in this zone of an ice sheet to the small amount of
material carried into englacial positions because of reduced
compressive flow away from the margin of the ice. Alternatively, if
retreat was rapid in comparison with that of the ice margin as it
stood at the terminal moraine, little ablation till would be deposited
in this zone even from debris-rich ice. The advance of ice in the
Green Bay Lobe to the Elderon and Bowler Moraines (Fig. 1) may
have destroyed this zone if it existed during the formation of the
Outer Moraine and many features may be covered with later
outwash.

Zone of Drumlins

Numerous drumlins (in the sense of elongate hills) with a
southwest orientation are present in the Langlade Lobe north and
northeast of the intermediate and end moraine zones about 16 km
behind the terminal moraine (Fig. 2). Dimensions average 600-1200
m by 100-300 m, but some drumlins are up to 2.5 km long. Although
many drumlins are partially buried, heights reach 30 m above the
surrounding outwash.

The internal characteristics of the majority of the Langlade Lobe
drumlins were not examined, but cuts through and cores of about
ten of them show outwash, flat-bedded where it can be seen, of the
Green Bay Lobe. In one gravel pit in southern Forest County about
10 m of gravel is underlain by at least 18 m of sand. The gravel in the
core of the drumlins is capped with 2-5 m of Langlade Lobe till. At
the east edge of this pit a discontinuous line of boulders marks the
till-gravel contact.

The thinness of the till, and the gravel-core character of these
drumlins require that they be erosional rather than depositional.
This type of drumlin has been described by many authors including
Gravenor (1953), Aronow (1959), Flint (1971), Muller (1974), and
Whittecar and Mickelson (1977), and that literature will not be
reviewed here. From a hypothetical reconstruction of the ice
surface profile of the Langlade Lobe, we suggest that these
drumlins formed under wet-based ice approximately 1000 m thick
(Nelson and Mickelson, 1974). Numerous reasons for the differen¬
tial erosion of this type of drumlin have been suggested, but none
have been demonstrated.

52

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Only a few drumlins are found in the Green Bay Lobe in this
region. They are less elongate and less symmetrical than the
drumlins in the Langlade Lobe, but they begin at about the same
distance behind the terminal moraine (16 km, Fig. 2). Widths are
approximately 200-400 m, a few being more than 1 km long and 20
m high.

THE GLACIAL SEQUENCE AND LANDFORM
DEVELOPMENT

We have shown that the Green Bay Lobe differs from lobes with a
typical landform distribution such as the Langlade Lobe in having
all zones dominated by extensive outwash and ice-contact stratified
drift, having very large subglacial or englacial drainage channels
extending through the end moraine zone, and lacking an in¬
termediate ground moraine zone or extensive drumlin zone. From a
general model of glacial advance and retreat similar to that
proposed by Clayton and Moran (1974), these differences in
landform development and distribution between two lobes could be
attributed to the differing topography over which each lobe
advanced. However, the present landform distribution is the
product of several alternating advances and retreats of the ice of
each lobe during Woodfordian times. The following chronology
attempts to show how these differences in landform distribution
developed during the sequence of glacial events in north-central
Wisconsin. Because no radiocarbon dates directly associated with
the moraines are available, relative ages were determined by cross¬
cutting moraine relationships (Mickelson, Nelson, and Stewart,
1974).

The earliest recorded advance during Woodfordian time is that of
the Green Bay Lobe to the Outer Moraine. During this advance out
of the Green Bay basin into north-central Wisconsin from the
southeast, the ice must have overriden much of its own outwash and
earlier drift deposits before reaching its terminal position. While
the ice was at the Outer Moraine, lodgement and ablation till were
deposited in the marginal zone forming ridge Types 1 and 2, and
outwash was spread over a large area of the Antigo outwash plain
by the ice-contact drainageways described under Type 3 ridges.
The drumlins found 16 km southeast of the moraine were probably
also developed while the ice was in this position. Stagnation within
the moraine and retreat to the recessional Elderon Morainic System

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

53

followed, producing small Types 3 and 5 ridges in the Outer
Moraine.

Some time after the formation of the Outer Moraine and the
deposition of the large outwash plain near Antigo, the Langlade
Lobe advanced to its terminal position, building the Parrish
Moraine. This advance also overrode older deposits and its own
outwash before depositing a thick lodgement till in the marginal
zone. However, unlike the Green Bay Lobe, the ice advanced down a
gentle regional bedrock slope in an area of relatively shallow drift.
While the ice was at the moraine, Types 1 and 2 ridges were formed
extensively beneath the ice, and drift within the ice was carried to
the surface in the marginal area of compressive flow. This mantle of
super-glacial till then filled longitudinal crevasses and other
openings in the ice, forming ridge Types 4 and 5. The drumlins in
the area northeast of the terminal moraine were differentially
eroded from previously deposited till and underlying Green Bay
Lobe outwash at this time.

While the ice was at its terminal position an outwash apron was
built along the north edge of the Antigo outwash plain and several
branches of the Eau Claire River carried non-dolomitic Langlade
Lobe outwash across the dolomitic outwash of the Green Bay Lobe.
Although dead ice buried by debris may have been present in the
Outer Moraine when the Parrish Moraine was built, the main ice
mass of the Green Bay Lobe had retreated at least back to the
Elderon Morainic System. Outwash flowing from this ice margin
was trapped behind the Outer Moraine without reaching the Antigo
plain and the channels parallel to the margin described under Type
4 ridges may have been eroded at this time.

Ice remained in the Parrish Moraine until after retreat of the
Green Bay Lobe ice from the Elderon Morainic System. That the
two ice lobes were joined during the building of the outer Elderon
Moraine can be seen by the change in orientation of morainal
features in the area of contact between the two lobes. Here, parallel
Type 4 ridges of ice contact drift from both lobes are found in the
moraine. From the composition (intermixed dolomite contents) and
northeast orientation of the ridges, we suggest that they were built
by debris brought into the ice by shear planes due to compressional
flow in both lobes, and then letdown as partially washed ice-contact
debris.

Ice, probably debris covered, remained in the Parrish Moraine
and in the interlobate part of the Elderon Moraine after the retreat
of Green Bay Lobe ice. Outwash streams carried gravel with a low

54

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

(< 5%) dolomite content (suggesting a Langlade Lobe source)
southeastward to the outer Bowler Moraine of the Green Bay Lobe.

After the formation of the Parrish and Elderon Moraines, both
lobes retreated an unknown distance, depositing superglacial drift
on locally grooved lodgement till, covering it in many places. As the
ice masses separated from the margin, meltout deposits (Type 3
ridges and Type 5) were formed and Type 4 ridges developed along
some areas of the retreating ice margin. Little outwash is present
between the Parrish and Summit Lake Moraines, although outwash
valleys carried water across the Antigo outwash plain in the Eau
Claire River and into the W olf River to the south and east. E xtensive
dolomitic (up to 30%) outwash, much of it pitted, was deposited
behind the Elderon Moraine by the Green Bay Lobe ice as it
retreated down slope, burying many features.

The ice of the Langlade Lobe readvanced to, or remained at, the
Summit Lake Moraine while ice in the Green Bay Lobe retreated
down slope beyond the outer Bowler Moraine. Marginal processes of
till deposition in the recessional moraines resulted in the same types
of landforms that were produced in the terminal moraines, but on a
smaller scale.

Large amounts of outwash from the Langlade Lobe were
deposited along the Wolf River, and as an outwash apron extending
from at least 13 km east of Antigo to the front of the Bowler
Moraine. At the reentrant between the two moraines, an area of
kettled interlobate deposits formed which contained stagnant ice
for some time after the retreat of both lobes from these moraines.

As the margin of the Langlade Lobe retreated from the Summit
Lake Moraine into the zone of ground moraine, eskers and kames
were deposited over a thin lodgement till. The ice margin then
retreated over the drumlins, depositing a thin lodgement till over
the shaped gravels. Outwash streams such as the Wolf and Pelican
Rivers buried much of this zone with outwash. As the ice margin
continued to retreat up slope, thin lodgement and ablation till were
deposited on the eroded bedrock and drift surface north of the
drumlins. No other recessional moraines of the Langlade Lobe were
formed between the Summit Lake Moraine and the very small,
discontinuous Laona Moraine (Thwaites, 1943) 40 km to the north.

As the ice of the Green Bay Lobe retreated from the Bowler
Moraine, small, discontinuous recessional moraines, mainly
composed of ice-contact sand and gravel, were built at least as far
southeast as the Mountain Moraine. Also during this time an

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

55

outwash plain was spread from the ice in the interlobate area onto
Green Bay Lobe drift between the Bowler and Mountain Moraines.

After an unknown interval following the retreat of the Green Bay
Lobe ice from the Bowler Moraine, ice advanced to the Mountain
Moraine. There is no evidence that ice was present during this
advance in areas previously covered by ice, even in the interlobate
area, and the position of the Langlade Lobe margin at this time is
unknown.

CONCLUSIONS

While the location and size of landform zones within a glacial lobe
are probably most dependent on the scale and thermal regime of the
ice lobe, the differences in landform distribution and character
between the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes is due primarily to the
differing slopes of the glacier bed and secondarily to the pattern of
advances and retreats of each lobe. A bedrock and older drift
surface sloping opposite to the direction of ice flow in the Green Bay
Lobe prevented meltwater from rapidly draining away from the ice
margin which allowed ice-contact features to be extensively
dissected by glaciofluvial streams and partially buried by outwash.
The large meltwater channels eroded in the drift of the Green Bay
Lobe both perpendicular and parallel to the end moraines are also
the result of large amounts of meltwater with extensive
contemporaneous outwash deposition. The repetitive advance and
retreat history with relatively long-lasting stagnant ice in the
moraines of the Green Bay Lobe accentuated the dissection and
reworking of ice-contact sediments and deposition of outwash by
providing more episodes of meltwater production over a longer
period of time than in the Langlade Lobe. The much better drainage
of the latter with a single short-lived readvance to the Summit Lake
Moraine prevented the glacial features formed during the building
of the Parrish Moraine from being greatly modified by glaciofluvial
processes, thus preserving the classic zonal landform distribution
in the Langlade Lobe.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Funds for this research were provided in part by the Wisconsin
Alumni Research Foundation administered by the Graduate School
of the University of Wisconsin-Madison. We thank N. P. Lasca and
D. S. Cherkauer for critically reviewing the manuscript.

56

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

REFERENCES CITED

Aronow, S. 1959. Drumlins and related streamline features in the
Warwick-Tokio area, North Dakota. Amer. Jour. Sci., 257: 191-203.

Boulton, G. S. 1968. Flow tills and related deposits on some Vestspitzbergen
glaciers. Jour. Glaciology, 9: 213-229.

_ _ _ _ 197 0. On the deposition of subglacial and melt-out tills at the

margins of certain Svalbard glaciers. Jour. Glaciology, 9: 231-245.

Chamberlin, T. C. 1883. Geology of Wisconsin. Geol. Nat. Hist. Survey, v. 1,
300 pp.

Clayton, L., and J. A. Cherry. 1967. Pleistocene superglacial and ice-walled
lakes of west-central North America, in Clayton and Freers, eds., Glacial
Geology of the Missouri Coteau: North Dakota Geol. Survey, Misc. Ser. 30,
p. 47-52.

_ _ and S. R. Moran. 1974. A glacial process-form model, in

Coates, D. R., ed., Glacial Geomorphology, 5th Annual Geomorphology
Symposium: Pub. Geomorphology, State Univ. New York, Binghamton,
p. 89-120.

Dreimanis, A., and U. J. Vagners, 1971. Bimodal distribution of rock and
mineral fragments in basal tills, in, Goldthwait, R. P., et al., eds., Till, a
Symposium : Ohio State Univ. Press, Columbus, p. 237-250.

Flint, R. F. 1971, Glacial and Quaternary Geology. John Wiley and Sons,
New York 892 pp.

Gravenor, C. P. 1953, The origin of drumlins. Amer. Jour. Sci. 251: 674-681.

_ , and W. O. Kupsch, 1959. Ice disintegration features in

western Canada. Jour. Geol. 67: 48-64.

Mickelson, D. M., A. R. Nelson, and M. T. Stewart, 1974. Glacial events in
north-central Wisconsin, in Knox, J. C., and D. M. Mickelson, eds., Late
Quaternary Environments of Wisconsin: Amer. Quaternary Assoc. Third
Biennial Meeting, p. 163-181.

Muller, E. H. 1974. Origin of drumlins, in Coates, D. R., ed. Glacial
Geomorphology, 5th Annual Geomorphology Symposium: Pub.
Geomorphology, State Univ. New York, Binghamton, p. 187-204.

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

57

Nelson, A. R. 1973, Age relationships of the Wisconsin V alley and Langlade
glacial lobes of north-central Wisconsin: M.S. thesis, Univ. Wisconsin,
Madison, unpub., 130 pp.

_ _ _ and D. M. Mickelson, 1974. Landforms of the Langlade

Lobe, north-central Wisconsin: Late Quaternary Environments of
Wisconsin, eds. J. C. Knox and D. M. Mickelson; American Quat. Assoc.
Third Biennial Meeting, Univ. Wisconsin-Madison, July 28-August 2,
1974, p. 187-195.

Parizek, R. R. 1969, Glacial ice-contact rings and ridges: Geol. Soc. Amer.,
Special Paper 123, p. 49-102.

Price, R. J. 1973. Glacial and Fluvioglacial Landforms: Oliver and Boyd,
Edinburgh, 242 pp.

Stewart, M. T., and D. M. Mickelson. 1976. Clay mineralogy and relative
age of tills in north-central Wisconsin. Jour. Sed. Pet. 46: 200-205.

Sugden, D. E., and B. S. John. 1976. Glaciers and Landscape: A
Geomorphological Approach. John Wiley and Sons, New York, 376 pp.

Thwaites, F. T. 1943. The Pleistocene of part of northeastern Wisconsin.
Geol. Soc. Amer. Bull. 54, p. 87-144.

Weidman, S., 1907. The geology of north-central Wisconsin. Wis. Geol.
Survey Bull. 16, 697 pp.

Whittecar, G. R., and D. M. Mickelson. 1977. Sequence of till deposition and
erosion in drumlins. Boreas 6: 213-218.

Wright, H. E., Jr. 1973. Tunnel valleys, glacial surges, and subglacial
hydrology of the Superior Lobe, Minnesota. Geol. Soc. Amer., Memoir
136, p. 251-276.

CAMBRIAN CONGLOMERATE EXPOSURE IN
NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN: A NEW
INTERPRETATION

Allen F. Mattis
Tulsa , Oklahoma

ABSTRACT

A large exposure of conglomerate previously assigned a Late
Precambrian age is re-interpreted as basal Cambrian. Nearby
Precambrian quartzite exposures provided the quartzite pebbles in
the conglomerate. Deposition of the conglomerate apparently
occurred in shallow waters near more resistant quartzite islands as
the Cambrian sea transgressed on to the Wisconsin Arch.

INTRODUCTION

An exposure of quartzite pebble conglomerate in northern
Wisconsin may represent the northernmost exposure of Cambrian
deposits in Wisconsin. The exposure lies near the northern end of
the River Falls Syncline, where a tongue of Cambrian sedimentary
rocks extends northward onto the Precambrian rocks of the
Wisconsin Arch (Fig. 1). The Precambrian rocks of the area consist
of the Late Precambrian Keweenawan series of lava flows and red
beds, a Pre-Keweenawan Late Precambrian quartzite unit named
the Barron Formation, and an undifferentiated group of Early and
Middle Precambrian igneous and metamorphic rocks.

Because of the presence of widespread thick glacial deposits,
outcroppings are not common in the area. The exposures examined
in this project are the only known exposures in a 144 square mile
area of four townships. Information about the bedrock geology of
the area comes from well logs and geophysical data. These reports
indicate that Cambrian sandstone underlies most of the area.

FIELD RELATIONSHIPS AND PETROLOGY

The exposures examined lie in Sections 1 and 12, T39N, R11W,
Washburn County, Wisconsin (Fig. 2). The exposures were
previously described during a mineral survey by the Wisconsin
Geological and Natural History Survey (Hotchkiss, 1915), and
assigned a Precambrian age. This interpretation called for two

58

1977]

Mattis— Cambrian Exposure , N W Wisconsin

59

episodes of quartzite deposition during the Late Precambrian: 1)
Deposition of the Barron Formation, which was weathered to
produce the quartzite clasts in the conglomerate, and 2) The later
deposition of the conglomerate. Regional evidence for two periods of
quartzite deposition during the Late Precambrian does not appear
to exist. A more reasonable interpretation appears to be that the
clasts in the conglomerate were derived from the nearby Late
Precambrian Barron Formation, and that the conglomerate
represents basal Cambrian deposition. A similar interpretation has
been made for a quartzite breccia 30 miles to the south near Canton,
Wisconsin (Hotchkiss, 1915).

60

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

\

BARRON (?)

N85°E, I5°N

FORMATION

300

N60°W.8°N

METERS

N85°E, 5°N

SEC. I

FIGURE 2. Map of exposures in Sections 1 and 12, T39N, R11W,
Washburn County, Wisconsin.

The exposures examined in this investigation lie on a prominent
hill which overlooks MacKay V alley. At the base of the north side of
the hill, a series of quartzite ledges are exposed with an attitude of
N85°E, 15°N. Near the top of the north side of the hill, several
ledges with an attitude of N85°E, 5°N are exposed. On the northeast
side of the hill, a quartzite ledge with an attitude of N60°W, 8°N is
exposed. All of these exposures consist of well cemented pink to
light red quartzite, which breaks across the individual well-sorted,
well-rounded grains. Modal analyses of thin sections (Table 1)
indicate an orthoquartzite composition for the exposure. The
exposed ledges indicate a thickness of at least 35 m for the quartzite.

On the southeast side of the hill, an exposure of 16 m of
conglomerate with an attitude of N45°E, 48°N is present. This
conglomerate consists of very well rounded pebbles of light pink
quartzite and vein quartz in a yellow sandstone matrix. The pebbles

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure, N W Wisconsin

61

TABLE 1. MODAL ANALYSES OF QUARTZITE, NORTH
SIDE OF HILL.

Sample

No. Location

MV-l

Hill base, N

1

81

-

X

-

-

16

-

2

MV-2

Hill base, N

16

56

1

-

-

6

15

3

3

MV-3

Hill base, N

5

79

-

-

-

4

18

-

2

MV-4

Hill top, N

2

76

X

X

-

-

17

1

3

MV-5

Hill top, N

7

70

X

X

X

4

13

1

4

MV-6

Hill base, NE

9

74

-

-

-

1

12

-

4

AVERAGE

7

73

X

X

X

2

15

X

3

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement
during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

have a maximum diameter of 20 cm, with average of about 4 cm. A
pebble count indicates that the conglomerate is composed of 81%
quartzite clasts, 1% quartz clasts, and 18% sandstone matrix. The
pebbles are in contact with each other, and form a solid framework.
The conglomerate is poorly bedded, and the clasts do not exhibit
preferred orientation. Both the clasts and the matrix have been
fractured by a later event. Modal analyses of thin sections of the
clasts (Table 2) indicate an orthoquartzite composition, and
compare very closely to the quartzite exposures on the north side of
the hill. Both the pebbles and the quartzite exposures on the north
side of the hill are similar in composition (Table 3) to the Late
Precambrian Barron Formation which is exposed in the area. It
appears that the quartzite exposures on the north side of the hill are
Barron Formation, and that the pebbles in the conglomerate on the

62

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

TABLE 2. MODAL ANALYSES OF PEBBLES FROM
CONGLOMERATE, SOUTHEAST SIDE OF HILL.

"c

N

0)

£

U

§>

03

3

o>

3

a

<x>

_c

es

Sm

*

N

L

c3

3

C.

1

w

>>

-4->

W

>>

u

c

a

o

o

>

O’

OJ

C

o>

s

a

0

<D

O

oS

a

Sample

i-

a

j>>

o

o

e

1- c

<v a

o3

O

C/2

0

Sm

No. Location

o

Cl

1

0) ,JC l

O O

C/2

O

CL

P-1

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

6

76

1

-

-

16

1

P-2

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

13

73

X

X

-

10

3

PM-1

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

6

75

2

.

2

13

2

PM-2

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

2

79

-

-

1

16

2

PM-3

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

7

73

2

X

-

14

3

PM-4

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

7

73

2

-

1

15

2

PM-5

Conglomerate exposure,
SE of hill

10

69

2

-

1

17

1

AVERAGE

7

74

1

X

X

15

2

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement
during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

southeast side of the hill were derived from this formation.

The matrix of the conglomerate differs from the clasts in several
ways. The matrix consists of moderately rounded, coarse grained
sandstone, whereas the clasts are composed of medium grained,
well-rounded, well-sorted quartzite. The matrix ranges from
yellow to buff in color, whereas the quartzite clasts are pink to light
red. Modal analyses of thin sections (Table 4) indicate several other
differences between the conglomerate matrix and the quartzite

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure, N W Wisconsin

63

TABLE 3. MODAL ANALYSES OF BARRON FORMATION,
NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN.

Sample

No. Location

BR-l

Sec. 13, T38N, R9W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

4

79

2

-

15 x

BB-1

Sec. 12, T38N, R9W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

8

73

X

-

18 x

B-l

Sec. 12, T38N, R9W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

12

76

-

-

12

BB-3

Sec. 21, T38N, R8W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

14

71

-

-

14 x

B-3

Sec. 21. T38N, R8W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

15

71

X

-

14

BB-8

Sec. 1, T37N, R9W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

14

70

3

-

13 x

B-8

Sec. 1, T37N, R9W,

Sawyer Co., Wis.

12

76

X

X

11

BARRON AVERAGE

11

74

X

X

14 x

Figures are %, x = < 1%.

clasts. The matrix is not as well cemented as the quartzite, and
contains an average of 12% pore space. Also, minor amounts of
quartzite fragments are present in the matrix.

These data and field relationships are the basis for this new
interpretation of these exposures. Because the attitude and
composition of the exposures on the north side of the hill are all
similar, these exposures are interpreted as being portions of the
same formation or unit. The similarity between this unit and the

64

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

TABLE 4. MODAL ANALYSES OF CAMBRIAN (?) CON¬
GLOMERATE MATRIX, SECTIONS 1 AND 12,
T39N, R11W, WASHBURN COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

Sample

No. Location

0>

o

03

a

co

<X>

i-,

o

Ph

M-2

SE

side

of

hill

14

59

1

-

-

-

14

12

M-4

SE

side

of

hill

6

69

-

1

X

3

11 X

10

M-5

SE

side

of

hill

8

65

1

-

-

-

15

11

M-2b

SE

side

of

hill

5

67

2

1

-

3

10

12

M-4b

SE

side

of

hill

3

67

1

1

-

6

9

13

M-5b

SE

side

of

hill

7

64

-

1

-

1

13 -

14

AVERAGE

8

65

X

X

X

2

12

x 12

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement
during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

nearby Barron Formation strongly suggests that this quartzite unit
is correlative with the Barron Formation. The nearly identical
composition of this quartzite unit and the clasts in the conglomerate
on the southeast side of the hill also strongly suggests that the clasts
were derived from this quartzite, of presumably Late Precambrian
age. The significant difference in attitude between the con¬
glomerate and the quartzite indicates that a tectonic episode
apparently occurred during the time interval between deposition of
these two units. The age of the conglomerate then must post-date the
deposition of the quartzite and the later folding, and is therefore
interpreted as being Cambrian.

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure , N W Wisconsin

65

CAMBRIAN SEDIMENTATION AND PALEOGEOGRAPHY

Because of the lack of fossils and indicative sedimentary features,
only general inferences about the Cambrian sedimentation and
paleogeography may be made. The rather large clast size in the
conglomerate indicates the existence of a nearby source area,
probably a high hill of resistant Barron Formation. Such resistant
hills would have projected above the Late Cambrian sea as it
transgressed onto the Wisconsin Arch. These islands would have
shed quartzite debris into the surrounding sea, in a manner similar
to that described by Dott (1974) near islands in the Cambrian sea of
the Baraboo District, Wisconsin. The solid framework of the clasts
in the conglomerate indicates the presence of rather high velocity
currents during deposition. These currents swept away the sand
and finer grained sediment, leaving behind the solid framework of
cobbles and pebbles. Sand later filtered in between the clasts. The
environment necessary to produce such a sequence of events would
exist in the turbulent nearshore waters of a group of islands,
particularly within the tropical latitudes which existed in Wiscon¬
sin during Cambrian time (Dott, 1974).

It is very difficult to determine the exact correlation of the
conglomerate unit with the well exposed Cambrian strata of the
Upper Mississippi Valley 80 km to the south (Twenhofel et ah,
1935). Because of similar difficulties, Dalziel and Dott (1970)
designated a conglomerate facies around the islands which existed
in the Baraboo District during the Cambrian, and made no attempt
to precisely correlate the Baraboo conglomerate deposits with the
more widespread Cambrian strata of the Upper Mississippi Valley.
It seems most probable that the conglomerate exposures of the
Mac Kay Valley area are a high energy, nearshore facies of the
shallow water marine Dresbach Formation, which thins northward
from the Upper Mississippi Valley as it passes over the Wisconsin
Arch (Hamblin, 1961).

The lack of Cambrian exposures in the northern end of the River
Falls Syncline makes it difficult to accurately reconstruct Cam¬
brian paleogeography. The varying Precambrian rock types of the
region were no doubt expressed topographically, with the more
resistant rocks such as the Barron Formation forming hills. As the
Late Cambrian sea transgressed onto the Wisconsin Arch, the low
areas were inundated, and the hills became islands. The resulting
shallow water deposition left a thin widespread blanket of
sandstone and conglomerate over the region.

66

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The writer gratefully acknowledges the assistance of Anita Gerb
Mattis during this project. Richard Olsson and Martha Hamil made
helpful suggestions during preparation of the manuscript. The
Department of Geology, Rutgers University, provided laboratory
facilities.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Dalziel, I.W.D., and R. H., Dott, Jr. 1970, Geology of the Baraboo District,
Wisconsin, Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Sur., Inform. Circ. 14, 164 pp.

Dott, R. H., Jr. 1974, Cambrian tropical storm waves in Wisconsin.
Geology, 2: 243-246.

Hamblin, W. K. 1961, Paleogeographic evolution of the Lake Superior
region from Late Keweenawan to Late Cambrian time, Geol. Soc. Amer.
Bull., 72: 18 pp.

Hotchkiss, W. 0., 1915, Mineral Land Classification: Ashland, Bayfield,
Washburn, Sawyer, Price, Oneida, Forest, Rusk, Barron, and Chippewa
Counties, Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Sur., Bull. 44, Econ. Series 19,
378 pp.

Twenhofel, W. H., G. 0. Raasch, and F. T. Thwaites. 1935. Cambrian Strata
of Wisconsin, Geol. Soc. Amer., Bull. 46, 1687-1744.

DEWEY AND NIETZSCHE: THEIR
INSTRUMENTALISM COMPARED

Alfred Castle
Roswell , New Mexico

Careful comparative scholarship has shown clearly that John
Dewey’s instrumentalism is not a peculiarly unique formal
articulation of the realistic and democratic temper of the American
people. Students of the “internal” history of ideas, i.e. those who
examine the “relationship between what some men write or say and
what other men write or say,”1 have noted similarities between
Dewey’s experimentalism and Hume’s empirical analysis, Kant’s
phenomena (but not the noumena), Hegel’s phenomenology, the
social orientation of the Utilitarians, the positivism of Comte and
Haeckel, and Bergson’s emphasis on activity.2 Dewey himself
recognized and expounded upon the logical connections between his
brand of pragmatism and the separate thought of several European
philosophers.3 Although many comparative studies have discour¬
aged the parochial misprizoning of instrumentalism, further work
needs to be done. No account of experimentalism’s European
resemblances can be complete without the recognition of
similarities with the thought of Friedrich Nietzsche. The purpose of
this paper is to demonstrate likeness of thought in three areas:
attitude toward metaphysics, concepts of truth, and ideas on the
nature of value. My hope is that such a demonstration will enlarge
the conceptual Euro-American background against which in¬
strumentalism must be understood.

John Dewey’s claim that ideas are instruments of action and that
their usefulness determines their truth had profound implications
for his view toward metaphysics. He agreed with Arthur Lovejoy
that metaphysical constructions have been the dominant concern of
intellectual mankind throughout history4 but found this pursuit to
be rooted in man’s deep sense of insecurity. Man, long before the
Heideggerian angst became fashionable, had found himself
confronted with a dark, uncertain world infused with peril and
mystery. Such a cosmos demanded appeasement but the available
manipulative arts were often futile. Tools were often inadequate
and the senses never fully reliable. In reaction to his natural
condition, early man compensated with myth, ritual, and most
importantly, protometaphysics. This latter device would contribute
an a priori order and rationale to the fanciful belief systems and

67

68

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

practices of mankind. As Dewey tells it, “Exaltation of pure
intellect and its activity above practical affairs is fundamentally
connected with the quest for a certainty which shall be absolute and
unshakeable.”5 Significantly, then, these beliefs and practices
attempted to deal with the vicissitudes of secular life by celebrating
the tranStemporal perfections of another life.

Construction of such a perfect world provided early humans with
access to a secure arena of action (Dewey might say “non-action”).
Correlative to this construction was the establishment of special
techniques which would allow knowing that was sure, universal,
and revelatory; such knowledge was quite different from the
fumbling way of the senses used by artisan and eoscientist who were
involved in a world of mere fact, imperfection, and uncertainty.6
The methods of attaining to this genuine reality, then, were
extraordinary and purificatory. Dewey finds evidence of such
catharizing methodology in early Greek philosophy:

If one looks at the foundations of the philosophies of Plato and
Aristotle as an anthropologist looks at his material, that is, as cul¬
tural subject-matter, it is clear that these philosophies were
systematizations in rational form of the content of Greek religious and
artistic beliefs. The systematization involved a purification. Logic
provided the patterns to which ultimately real objects had to conform,
while physical science was possible in the degree in which the natural
world, even in its mutabilities, exhibited exemplification of ultimate
immutable rational objects. Thus, along with the elimination of
myths and grosser superstitions, there were set up the ideals of
science and a life of reason. Ends which could justify themselves to
reason were to take the place of custom as the guide of conduct. These
two ideals form a permanent contribution to western civilization.

But . . . they brought with them the . . . notion, which has ruled
philosophy ever since the time of the Greeks, that the office of
knowledge is to uncover the antecedently real, rather than, as is the
case with our practical judgments, to gain the kind of understanding
which is necessary to deal with problems as they arise.7

Hence, for our instrumentalist, metaphysical systems are a
response to a complex of culturally conditioned experiences. The
search for reliable knowledge must rest elsewhere.

Though it was clear to Dewey that metaphysics could be
“reduced” to the perennial quest for certainty, he realized that
instrumentalism must still deal in its own way with questions
traditionally addressed by the former “official philosophy.” The

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

69

questions about what is most important in life and what is most real
could be “explained” by his antimetaphysical reduction but not
answered per se. Dewey, assuming that humans live in and adjust to
their social and physical environment experientially, felt that most
metaphysical questions could be “answered” by distinguishing
between events and objects. These two terms are the key to his
characteristic experimentalist approach to pseudo-problems long
agonized over by “first philosophy.”

Dewey distinguishes between “events” (or “existences”) and
meanings. An event is “ongoing” and its nature is revealed in
experience “as the immediately felt qualities of things.”9 Thus
events are the ingredients of ordinary experience. (Dewey felt that
science also conceptualizes in terms of events.) An object is defined
as an event with meaning. We are asked to consider tables, the
Milky Way, chairs, dogs, electrons, and to appreciate them as
examples of “objects.” Dewey would have us further appreciate that
every event may have numerous explicit meanings with differing
consequences for action. The best example he himself elucidates is
that of paper.

Thus an existence identified as ‘paper/ because the meaning
uppermost at the moment is ‘something to be written upon/ has as
many other explicit meanings as it has important consequences
recognized in the various connective interactions into which it enters.
Since possibilities of conjunction are endless, and since the conse¬
quences of any of them may at some time be significant, its potential
meanings are endless. It signifies something to start a fire with;
something like snow; made of wood-pulp; manufactured for profit;
property in the legal sense; a definite combination illustrative of
certain principles of chemical science; an article the invention of
which has made a tremendous difference in human history; and soon
indefinitely . . . We are saying in effect that its existence is not
exhausted in its being paper.10

In experimentalism, then we are introduced to a tool that can
powerfully respond to the traditive metaphysical conundrums.
Perhaps one example of such a response will suffice. Beginning
with Plato, philosophers of various intellectual persuasions have
attempted to reason with the concept of essence. But for John
Dewey, these philosophers (including some Existentialists with
whom he has important points in common) have been pursuing a
chimera. “Essence,” we are told, “is but a pronounced instance of
meaning; to be partial, and to assign a meaning to a thing as the

70

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

meaning is but to evince human subjection to bias.”11 Hence, there is
no reason why the traditive explanation of essence as one,
immutable, and constitutive of a thing should exhaust the various
meanings the word may have. The traditive claim for legitimacy
only reflects the interest that the definer happens to have in the
concept. Dewey concludes as follows:

Since the consequences which are liked have an emphatic quality, it
is not surprising that many consequences, even though recognized to
be inevitable, are regarded as if they were accidental and alien. Thus
the very essence of a thing is identified with those consummatory
consequences which the thing has when conditions are felicitous.12

Thus this pragmatist argues that we are in error when we repose in
ideas and concepts; all ideas and meanings are instruments for
dealing with concrete problems. If this be deemed a delitescent
metaphysic, it is at the least an unusually “open” and flexible one.

Nietzsche was never as systematic or methodical as Dewey. Often
his ideas on metaphysics are inconsistent, although we know that
he, like Dewey, was hostile to such traditional notions as substance,
cause, effect, and Being. The difficulty for the scholar wishing to
analyze Nietzsche’s own brand of antimetaphysics is due in part to
his peculiar modus operandi. Unlike Dewey, he never fights
thoroughly or scientifically but rather assumes the role of
intellectual warrior using clubs and sledge-hammers to impress the
truth upon his readers.13 Despite these differences in style, however,
both men were very similar in their anthropological and psy¬
chological analysis of metaphysics.

Nietzsche, like Dewey, felt strongly that the entire metaphysical
enterprise results from a maladjustment to a changing environ¬
ment. “First philosophy” develops when, in the pursuit of security,
man avoids the world of Becoming for an absolute world of Being.
Man seeks the “true world,” a world where there can be no
suffering. Nietzsche believes that the unique psychological mind of
the average human propends toward happiness. This happiness, as
most men see it, can be achieved only in the realm of Being since
change and happiness exclude each other.14 Pain is a leading
inspiration for these fanciful conclusions: at bottom they are wishes
that such a world might exist because of the hatred men feel toward
a world full of suffering. As with Dewey, Nietzsche takes Plato to
task for indulging the “metaphysical need.”

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71

An artist cannot endure reality; he turns away or back from it: his
earnest opinion is that the worth of a thing consists in that nebulous
residue of it which one derives from colour, form, sound, and thought;
he believes that the more subtle, attenuated, and volatile a thing or a
man becomes, the more valuable he becomes: the less real , the greater
the worth. This is Platonism: but Plato was guilty of yet further
audacity in the matter of turning tables — he measured the degree of
reality according to the degree of value and said: The more there is of
‘idea’ the more there is of Being .... At bottom, Plato, like the artist
he was, placed appearance before Being! and therefore lies and fiction
before truth! unreality before actuality!15

Thus, metaphysics is a sign of “ill health” or at the least a pernicious
weakness in the human psyche. As such, it may be designated as the
“science which treats of the fundamental errors of mankind but
treats of them as if they were fundamental truths.”16 Clearly Dewey
and Nietzsche are in agreement here.

Both philosophers also claimed that metaphysical structures
were too often caused by linguistic traps that tend to rigidify
concepts. Dewey, for example, criticized thinkers for allowing the
concepts of “essence,” “universals,” “appearance,” and “reality” to
become static entities each endowed with but one meaning.
Nietzsche also excoriated the rigid use of such concepts as “true,”
“apparent,” and “reality.”17 Finally, both men felt that the solutions
to many of the old metaphysical puzzles would be forthcoming if the
philosopher accepted man as active and not passively receptive. For
both men, thinking and perceiving are acts of interpretation in
which our desires, memories, and passions do affect the object that
we perceive or contemplate.

Although many thinkers today, particularly the sociologist of
knowledge, take for granted that men’s subjective interests and
expectations influence their perception, Nietzsche was one of the
first to use such information to attack the petrified concepts of
metaphysics. Like Dewey, he argued that once we have achieved a
conceptual framework, we tend to persist in interpreting our
experiences statically even though circumstances inevitably
change. This sort of “laziness” increases when the conceptual
framework is given a linguistic formula. When this occurs, the
concept becomes a closed “self-evident” structure that all ex¬
perience of the world is required to fit.18

To obviate the problems posed by such a conceptology, Nietzsche
would have us remember that meaning (like life) is fluid and can
take almost illimitable forms. The “interested” subjective thinker

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should become aware of the intellectual cul-de-sac he prepares for
himself when he employs ossified thoughts. For example, Nietzsche
panned Kant’s stringent bifurcation between a “thing-in-itself” and
mere appearance. This stiff ontological schism was absurd because
of the reasons indicated below.

A ‘thing-in-itself’ is just as absurd as a ‘sense-in-itself,’ a ‘meaning-
in-itself.’ There is no such thing as a ‘fact-in-itself,’ for a meaning must
always be given to it before it can become a fact.

The answer to the question, ‘What is that?’ is a process of fixing a
meaning from a different standpoint. The ‘essence,’ the essential
factor, is something which is only seen as a whole in perspective, and
which presupposes a basis which is multifarious. Fundamentally the
question is ‘What is that for me?’ (for us, for everything that lives, etc.,
etc.).

... In short: the essence of a thing is really only an opinion
concerning that ‘thing’ or, better still; ‘it is worth’ is actually what is
meant by ‘it is’ or by ‘that is.’19

For N ietzsche, then, the putative independently existing object that
rigid concepts attempt to mirror is an enduring myth perpetuated
by linguistics and human psychology. An uninterpreted “original”
is never available to an ideally objective mind;20 there are only the
various “meanings” that an existent can have at different times and
for different individuals. For both Dewey and Nietzsche, cognition
of metaphysical absolutes must of necessity be a subjective on-going
process.

Further similarities of thought are evinced in their theories of
truth, although the correspondences are not exact ones. In general,
both men argued against the validity of objective truth and argued
for the beneficial nature of subjective truth, consciously arrived at.
As might be expected, much of what they say about truth follows
from their analysis of “first philosophy.”

John Dewey’s attack on “inexpugnable” objective truth took the
form of criticizing two widely held theories. One of these theories
avers that there is little distinction between truth and reality. In
other words, this Platonic concept claims that truth already exists
(as does reality) whether one comes upon it or not. Attendant to this
belief is the notion that there is but one truth for everyone at any
given time. Dewey answers this by pointing out the obvious
empirical refutation that various people do not attain to the same
truths. Another difficulty with this former hoary argument is that
it finds the subject matter of truth to be reality at large, “a

1977]

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73

metaphysical heaven to be mimeographed at many removes upon a
badly constructed mental carbon copy which yields at best only
fragmentary, blurred, and erroneous copies.”21 The only proper
object of truth is and must be that relationship of organism and
environment in which functioning is most amply and effectively
attained.22 Truth can not be monistic as the Platonist asserts.

The second attack on “objective” verity is against another major
defense: the correspondence theory of truth. This is the idea that
truth is a duplicate or copy of an independent reality. Dewey admits
the innate plausibility of this account because it does distinguish
between truth and reality. Since such a distinction is made, the
correspondence theory does include statements men make about the
world. As such, it involves meaning or discourse and refers to ideas
and their validity. However, Dewey complains, the claim that
veracity equals a one-to-one relation with objective existents opens
up the old (and still unsolved) Descartean problem of dualism.23 The
correspondence theory can not explain how mind, world, and body
interact to produce knowledge and “truth.” He further argues that
even if this theory could explain the ontological abyss between facts
and ideas, we would still not know why the mind should make a
copy of the world at all.24 Hence, Dewey finds two venerable
supports for objective truth to be unconvincing. Not content to
merely analyze, he has synthesized a positive, subjective approach
to truth.

Such an approach he calls the instrumental or consequence
theory. Dewey states that truth or falseness is a property of ideas.
This property is chiefly one of predictions of what consequences will
follow if any given plan of action, communicated by an idea, is
carried out. All ideas are hypotheses continually being verified or
disverified in the light of predictable results. The particular
consequences or results are those in terms of which a problem has
arisen.25 Pretend, for example, that you hear a noise in the street.
The meaning suggested to you is that a street-car has caused the
sound. To test the idea you walk to the window and through
observation organize into a unity elements of existence and
meaning which previously were disconnected. In this way your idea
is rendered true; that which was a proposal or hypothesis is no
longer a mere educated speculation. Apart from your forming and
considering some interpretation, the category of truth has neither
meaning nor existence. Your idea, in other words, had to be acted
upon to become a truth.26 As Dewey concludes about his “non¬
objective” theory,

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Truth ... is a just name for an experienced relation among the
things of experience: that sort of relation in which intents are
retrospectively viewed from the standpoint of the fulfillment which
they secure through their own natural operation or incitement. Thus
the experimental theory explains directly and simply the absolutistic
tendency to translate concrete true things into the general
relationship, Truth, and then to hypostatize this abstraction into
identity with real being, Truth per se and in se, of which all
transistory things and events— that is, all experienced realities — are
only shadowy futile approximations.27

In conclusion, truth belongs to humans actively engaged in a
changing world. Verity, as Dewey sees it, is a satisfactory response
to a problem originating in the world. Because truths are not
monolithic or fixed in a rigid matrix forever, they can be
transformed by the subjective, interested thinker who must
consciously and continuously strive to cope with his environment.
Since there is no final and absolute truth, there can be no further
test of veracity other than its ability to work and to organize facts.28
Objective truth, moreover, must be recognized as yet another
symptom of man’s quixotism and quest for security; subjective
truth must be recognized as successful and dynamic “inter¬
pretations” proposed tentatively by adaptive and creative in¬
dividuals.

Nietzsche would appear to agree fully with the above conclusions
of Dewey. He, too, devastated pretensions to objective truth by
revealing the psychology on which they are based and the thin
reasoning which disguises them. He too relativized truth to a
context of person, world, and problem. And he too, though less
carefully and systematically, posited a subjective brand of truth to
replace impossible, surreal objectivity. N ietzsche is perhaps most
effective in analyzing the psychological bases of cognition and
truth.

Even the greatest philosophers, we are told, think that they can
achieve the Truth through elaborate reasoning. But the theories of
men like Spinoza, Wolff, Descartes, and Plato are only fatuous
efforts to justify the beliefs they hold on instinctive or pre-reflective
grounds. Behind even the purest logic, there are subjective
prejudices and physiological demands.29 Far from being dis¬
interested and objective, Nietzsche sees the intellect as the
instrument of something nonintellectual;

The unconscious disguising of physiological requirements under
the cloak of the objective, the ideal, the purely spiritual, is carried on

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Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

75

to an alarming extent, and I have often enough asked myself, whether
on the whole, philosophy hitherto has not generally been merely an
interpretation of the body, and a misunderstanding of the body.30

The concept of transcendent and final truth must, then, be an
illusion.

In addition, Nietzsche uses an epistemological argument to
attack any claims that “objective” truth can be supported by a
strictly empirical outlook. His argument is that we have the kinds of
sensations and perceptions we do because of their “utility.” The
product of our senses reflects our values, and the senses are
pragmatic just as our conceptual abilities are. He denies, further¬
more, that our sensations and perceptions are uninfluenced by the
concepts and prejudgments which we all hold; our conceptual life
mandates, in large part, our sensory life.31 Hence, in contraposition
to empiricists such as Locke, the senses cannot absolutely and
objectively verify the concepts we may hold as the senses are pre¬
influenced by beliefs and values. Nietzsche tells us that “faith is the
primal beginning even in every sense impression.”32 Consequently,
the quest for the Platonic realist version of truth as static and
independent of humans may not rest on our conceptual or empirical
abilities. No “truth” about the “world of appearances” or
phenomena can be any more than a perspectival interpretation.

Finally, Nietzsche shares Dewey’s odium for the Kantian
noumenon or absolute “thing-in-itself” (or “Truth -in-itself”) which
so many thinkers for centuries had pursued. Nietzsche in his
writings not only denies that our knowledge could transcend the
limitations of the senses, but also writes that the very concept of
noumenon which we seek to know is an ignis fatuus. First, he offers
the now familiar psychological explanation (and reduction) of the
origin of the notion: the realm of absolute reality was concocted by
weak intellects who do not dare to live and adjust in a changing
world. The quest for the fictional transcendent and inaccessible
noumenon serves as an escape mechanism for such weak spirits.33
Secondly, he finds the Kantian belief in noumenon useless and
superfluous and therefore refuted.34 Although many reasons are
given for the contradictory character of an objective realm of truth,
N ietzsche’s greatest complaint is that it makes no difference for our
quotidian engaged life. With Dewey, he believes that nothing
possesses a constitution in itself apart from active interpretation
and subjectivity. As Nietzsche understands it,

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Every centre of energy has its point of view of the whole of the
remainder of the world — that is to say, its perfectly definite valuation,
its mode of action, its mode of resistance. The ‘world of appearance’ is
thus reduced to a specific kind of action on the world proceeding from
a centre.

But there is no other kind of action: and the ‘world’ is only a word for
the collective play of these actions. Reality consists precisely in this
particular action and reaction of every isolated factor against the
whole.35

Consequently, there can be no truth apart from the subjective
engaged thinker.

Although denying the possibility of inaccessible verity, Nietzsche
proposed that a subjective truth could yet be very instrumental to
the man who has the courage to live with perspectivism. Inter¬
pretative truths, the only ones we are really capable of, can still give
us practical guidance in life. Subjective truth is or can be a useful
tool. It can observe how elements in the world affect us, noting their
actual benevolence or malevolence, and can draw up from this very
personal angle of vision a picture or scheme of the world. With the
aid of ideas we can make our way through life’s mazes with more
confidence because we can handle the empirical world more
easily.36 Those ideas which have life-preserving consequences
should be labeled as “truths”, while ideas which decrease our
chances of coping with the environment should be abandoned as
“lies.” Truth is human and only individuals who possess it give it
importance. With Dewey, Nietzsche concludes that this importance
lies in our confrontation with a problematic world. For both men,
there is no shame in the fact that we do not have entry into the fictive
mansion of static and transcendent verity. Alethiology belongs only
and fully to mankind.

The last general area of substantive agreement lies in their
axiology. Although their ideas do not correspond exactly in this
field of inquiry or any other, we can discern important similarities.
Dewey and Nietzsche tended to understand value and experience as
inextricably mixed; for both discovered that value cannot exist
independently of nature. Lastly, they thought that what was
valuable was a practical and not a metaphysical problem.
“Solutions” for traditional axiological questions rested in an
empirical methodology and were always considered tentative by
our two philosophers.

John Dewey’s discussions of value parallel his writings on
philosophia prima; he characteristically saw most of the traditional

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

77

questions about values as mere pseudo-problems. According to this
pragmatist, too many philosophers have agonized over the “status”
of value or about the rank of values in some transempirical
hierarchy. That these false problems seemed real to metaphysicians
was because of the ancient search for certainty and security. The
conatus to build a “realm of values” which would contain especially
sublime goods caused the nettling split between this world of
shadows and the “real” world of sempiternal worth. With this
division the philosopher has a new problem with which to deal: what
is the relationship between such different domains? Is the
transcendent domain that of ultimate Being from which the life we
know is but an unfortunate fall? Or is the world of “real” value a
mere subjective creation of minds desperate to order their world, as
William of Ockham averred?37 The metaphysicians who select the
first alternative usually spend the rest of their intellectualizingon
determining the special and fixed order of values in the transcen¬
dent realm; their concern for actual choice in mundane life is
neglected. Other scholars choose the second alternative, thus
rendering values completely subjective and therefore unable to
provide a criterion for successful choice among current options.
Both choices are meaningless because the problem is arbitrary.38
Characteristically, Dewey's approach to axiology was empirical
and antimetaphysical.

What then is a proper approach to axiology? Dewey's theory is, as
might now be anticipated, existential in that he emphasizes the
concrete context in which value judgments proceed. Humans are
continually faced with situations in which lie conflicts and they are
forced to decide which course of action should be pursued. The
fundamental question of an involved individual is not what is the
“eternal good” that he should emulate but rather what should he do?
Typically, value is rendered dynamic and experiential.

To elucidate the process of valuation Dewey distinguishes two
meanings of “to value.” First, like Ralph Barton Perry, Dewey says
we value something when we take an interest in it; to value in this
manner signifies an immediate experience. However, such a
rendition of value is incomplete as a prizing in itself does not specify
any course of action; it provides no means of determining what the
consequences of pursuing it will be. Therefore, Dewey advances an
additional and vital meaning for value.39 The alternate meaning of
“to value” means to judge or to evaluate. Clearly, it is a process
ending in a value judgment. It is an endless proceeding just as
change in our environment is perpetual.40

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Dewey suggests that this process of valuation is similar in many
ways to scientific judgment.41 Valuation arises when there is
conflict within the course of experience and we must attempt to
understand the nature of the conflict, suggest various alternative
actions, and judge the consequences of each. As in science the
existential results of a given course of an action can verify or
disprove a given value judgment. Also, as in science, the leading
principles used in a given valuation are derived from past
experience.42 Hence, valuation proceeds during conflicts of our
immediate values and of what we directly prize. It is a reflective
process in which we must decide what we should desire. In making a
value judgment we ascribe worth to something rather than merely
describe a hierarchy of values.43 To repeat, “value” for Dewey is a
dynamic idea.

Significantly, Dewey argued that values are not greatly different
from other facts in the world. There are initial enjoyings just as
there are initial impressions of physical objects. Insofar as and only
as long as the initial enjoyings are enjoyed, they are good. Naturally
experience may come to show some initial enjoyments as deceptive
just as it may find some immediate sense experiences deceptive.
Just as initial sense data that survive the subsequent empirical
testing become “facts” so immediate enjoyments that survive the
same test become values.44

Finally, Dewey’s axiology includes the notion that values are as
unstable as clouds; we can never be sure that what we value as good
will continue to be desirable. Good things vanish not only with
alterations in the environment but with changes in ourselves.45 Be
that as it may, knowledge that a particular object or experience is
good— that is, it has survived the best available examinations— will
have to be sufficient. Such knowledge will be a reasonable rule for
directing behavior. In any case, it is far more usable and
trustworthy than depending on revelation or waiting for the
philosopher-king to re-enter the reechy cave. The rational,
courageous man, Dewey reminds us, will face up to the lack of
absolute merit and will strive to improve criteria for choice. In a
world of becoming, any other approach would be fatal.

Since it is relative to the intersection in existence of hazard and rule,
of contingency and order, faith in a wholesale and final triumph is
fantastic. But some procedure has to be tried; for life itself is a
sequence of trials. Carelessness and routine, Olympian aloofness,
secluded contemplation are themselves choices. To claim that
intelligence is a better method than its alternatives, authority,

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Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

79

imitation, caprice and ignorance, prejudice and passion, is hardly an
excessive claim. These procedures have been tried and have worked
their will. The result is not such as to make it clear that the method of
intelligence, the use of science in criticizing and recreating the casual
goods of nature into intentional and conclusive goods of art, the union
of knowledge and values in production, is not worth trying.46

Perhaps this implies an ability only found in the strangest kind of
individual, but Dewey believed it an ability that any reasonable
man could possess.

The idea that values are by and for men appealed also to the mind
of Nietzsche. He states often that there is no absolute, self-existent,
supreme standard of valuation distinct from volition.47 Not
surprisingly he attacks any belief concerning independent,
objective merit as yet another sign of mediocrity and bestial fear in
the face of relentless change. Men, as is the consuetude, gladly
accept the proposition that values have an independent origin and
sustenance.48 In addition to this familiar posture, he also asserts that
the only world which exists for the individual is the empirical one.
For the reason discussed above there can be no Kantian thing-in-
itself or in this case value-in-itself. For example, Christian theology
is wrong most egregiously because it demands complete acceptance
of an empyrean realm of objective value. As Nietzsche puts it,

In Christianity neither morality nor religion has even a single point
of contact with reality. Nothing but imaginary causes . . . nothing but
imaginary effects . . . intercourse between imaginary beings ... an
imaginary natural science ... an imaginary psychology.

This world of pure fiction is vastly inferior to the world of dreams
insofar as the latter mirrors reality, whereas the former falsifies,
devalues, and negates reality. Once the concept of ‘nature’ had been
invented as the opposite of ‘God,’ ‘natural’ had to become a synonym of
‘reprehensible’: this whole world of fiction is rooted in hatred of the
natural ... it is the expression of a profound vexation at the sight of
reality.49

No values can exist outside of the phenomenal world and man’s
active confrontation with it.

Another major reason why Nietzsche refused to grant values an
individual ontological status is his much discussed theory of
psychology and morals. He deflated the claims of absolute value
systems by arguing that such systems are actually based on human
psychological propensities and should be adjudged as artificial self-
justifying superstructures (Nietzsche sounds more like Pareto than

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Dewey here). The desire for something is the primal ground that
“independent” ethical systems cover, consciously or otherwise.50
N ietzsche says that he can account for the differences in valuational
constructions whereas seekers after absolute and fixed systems can
not. He tells us that there are as many moralities or values as there
are human psychological desires because all moralities are tied to
them. In his book, Human, All to Human he gives numerous
examples of values which are tied to human needs; these needs have,
in effect, “chosen” a moral rationalization in order to realize a goal.
In one such example he informs the reader that the quality of pity
we are given to admire is not disinterested:

All those who are not sufficiently masters of themselves and do not
know morality as a self-control and self-conquest continuously
exercised in things great and small, unconsciously come to glorify the
good, compassionate, benevolent impulses of that instinctive morality
which has no head, but seems merely to consist of a heart and helpful
hands. It is to their interest even to cast suspicion upon a morality of
reason and to set up the other as the sole morality.51

In another example, N ietzsche exposes one instance of philanthropy
as also related to ulterior motives:

Why beggars still live— If all alms were given only out of
compassion, the whole tribe of beggars would long since have died of
starvation . . . The greatest of almsgivers is cowardice.52

Hence, all morality is subjective and interlocked inextricably
with secular experiences. Nietzsche, it should be noted, did not
deplore this fact as such because he claims that apart from the
involved subject, no value could exist. With Dewey, he deplores
those who would not have the intellectual integrity to face the
ultimate connection between value and experience. For both men,
valuation becomes most meaningful when employed consciously by
individuals engaged in an active confrontation with a changing
world.

Like Dewey, Nietzsche advanced a reconstruction of a sounder
ethic which would be based on subjectivity. The function of anyone
courageous enough to face existential connection between
psychological inclinations and value is to create or to will a value
system which corresponds to the needs of the subject. The most
fundamental instinct which requires realization is the “will to
power” or the desire of the subject to control his personal and

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

81

external world. This presupposition, roughly similar to Dewey’s
belief that humans seek to form a propitious environment for their
actions, provides the substructure for any realistic value. If
Nietzsche is correct, we can call an event or an experience
“valuable” only if it aids us in preserving and furthering our life and
our ability to successfully manipulate the world.53 No ethics can
subsist independently of individuals in posssession (or possessed) of
a subjective consciousness which above all includes a drive of
“power” striving for self-realization. Hence values are always to be
judged by their relations to active subjects.

Furthermore, Nietzsche agrees that values are transient and a
continual challenge to a person. He too feels that an ethic is dynamic
and process oriented. An engaged subject must repeatedly
experiment with values in order to increase his ability to “build” a
world in a favorable image, i.e. to facilitate the realization of
personal strength and power.54 Those goods which are instrumental
in furthering one’s capacity to realize personal goals in the world
should be retained until better goods are discovered through
experimentation. Significantly, there is no ethical repose here. As
the world alters, so must our means to achieving our goals. It is
indeed even possible that the interpretation of our instinctive needs
and their attendant values will be transmogrified in the future. The
rational and practical thinker will accept this possibility and yet
affirm the existence of a meaningful ethical system. Such an
individual would have

the means of enduring it: the transvaluation of all values. Pleasure no
longer to be found in certainty, but in uncertainty; no longer 'cause
and effect,’ but continual creativeness; ... no longer the modest
expression 'it is only subjective’ but ‘it is all our work! let us be proud

of it.’55

Thus for Nietzsche, as for Dewey, the best valuations we can have
are grounded in humanity. However, far from being an excuse for
an aporetic nihilism, this fact can be a beginning for a new and more
efficacious concept of value.

The conclusion to this comparative study should not imply that
Dewey and Nietzsche possessed identical thoughts, attitudes, or
styles of expression. In regard to the three areas of interest
discussed above, the major difference between the two men was
attitudinal. They particularly differed in their emotional response
toward and expression of the over-arching discovery that life is
insecure. Nietzsche’s style of expression was, characteristically,

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metaphysical, eristic, and idiosyncratic. His emotional reaction was
typically (particularly as seen in his later writings) as semi-
hysterical affirmation of life and meaning despite its horror and
objective purposelessness. Paroxysmally he urges us to bite the
snake of nihilism that crawls into our throats, while we wax
complacent in our fictional metaphysical explanations.™ In
contradistinction, Dewey’s communication of the ground of
metaphysics was calm, scholarly, and exact. Since he did not feel an
abyss within himself he was not personally involved with the threat
of insecurity. As was his wont, he viewed man’s commerce with
insecurity as a physician might.57 Perhaps he also felt that the
“cure” for insecurity (i.e. the use of instrumentalism to effect
proximate solutions) was not overly difficult; no overman would be
necessary to implement a realistic axiology or alethiology. In any
case, no desperate ophiophagous measures need be taken to create a
solid niche for mankind.

Be this as it may, the discovery of important generic cor¬
respondences of substantial thought in Dewey, an American, and
Nietzsche, a German, forces us to broaden the view we take of
formal instrumentalism. The similarities in their ideas on the
nature of metaphysics, truth, and value are no less remarkable for
their developing independently of one another. Indeed, their
ideational correspondences provide an eloquent instance of con¬
gruence in Hesperian thought. Nietzsche’s ideas should, then, be
added to the conceptual Euro-American community in which the
Experimentalism of Dewey grew and prospered. The intellectual
historian, in a continuing effort to obtain full understanding of the
possible novelty of “Dewey’s theory,” should not then ignore the
reality of shared beliefs between two of the Occident’s finest
thinkers.

NOTATIONS

Uohn Higham, Intellectual History and its Neighbors, Jour. Hist. Ideas,
15: 3 (June, 1954), 341.

2W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and
Sartre . (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc., 1969). p. 281.

3John Dewey, “From Absolutism to Experimentalism,” In Contemporary
American Philosophers, George P. Adams and William P. Montague (Eds.),
Vol. 2. (New York: Macmillan Co., 1930), pp. 13-27.

4Arthur 0. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1936), p. 26.

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Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

83

5John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and
Company, 1929), p. 3.

6George Geiger, John Dewey in Perspective (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1958), p. 11.

7John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and
Company, 1929), pp. 16-17.

8John Dewey, How We Think (New York: D. C. Heath and Company,
1909), pp. 12-13.

9John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and
Company, Inc., 1925), pp. iv-v.

l0Ibid ., pp. 318-320.

uIbid ., pp. 182-183.

l2Ibid ., p. 183.

13M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.
Fisher Unwin, 1908), p.814.

14Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power , translated by Anthony
Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p.88.

Mbid., pp. 74-75.

16Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All-Too Human, translated by Helen
Zimmern (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 33.

17Friedrich Nietzsche, “Twilight of the Idols.” In The Portable Nietzsche,
edited by W. Kaufman (New York: Viking Press, 1954), p. 484.

18Friedrich Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense.” In
The Portable Nietzsche, edited by W. Kaufman (New York: Viking Press,
1954), p. 46.

19Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.
Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), pp. 64-65.

20Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals, translated by Horace
Samuel (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 152.

21John Dewey, “Truth and Reality.” In The Philosophy of John Dewey,
edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1928), pp.
188-189.

22 Ibid., p. 190.

23 John Dewey, “The Correspondence Theory of Truth is Inadequate.” In
The Philosophy of John Dewey, edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry
Holt and Company, 1928), p. 192.

24George Geiger, John Dewey in Perspective (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1958), p. 72.

2Hbid., p. 73.

26 John Dewey, “The Instrumental Theory of Truth,” In The Philosophy of
John Dewey, edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry Holt and
Company, 1928), pp. 199-200.

27John Dewey, “The Experience of Knowing.” In The Philosophy of John
Dewey, Volume I, edited by John McDermott (New York: G. P. Putnam’s
Sons, 1973), p.192.

84

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

28Morton White, The Origin of Dewey's Instrumentalism (New York:
Octagon Books, 1964), p. 82.

29M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.
Fisher Unwin, 1908), p. 214.

3,)Friedrich Nietzshe, The Joyful Wisdom, translated by Thomas
Common (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 5.

31 John T. Wilcox, Truth and Value in Nietzsche: A Study of His Metaethics
and Epistemology (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1974), p.
149.

32Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.
Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 25.

33F riedrich N ietzsche, “The Antichrist.” In The Portable Nietzsche, edited
by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press, 1954), pp. 576-577.

34Friedrich Nietzsche, “Twilight of the Gods.” In “The Portable Nietzsche,
edited by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press, 1954), p. 485.

35Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.
Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 71.

36William M. Salter, Nietzsche the Thinker: A Study (New York:
Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1968), p. 52.

37John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and
Company, 1925), p. 394.

™Ibid., p. 395.

39James Gouinlock, John Dewey's Philosophy of Value (New York:
Humanities Press, 1972), p.128.

40John Dewey, The Objects of Valuation, Jour. Philos. 15, 1918, p. 257.
41John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and
Company, 1929), pp. 258-259.

42John Dewey, On Experience, Nature, and Freedom, edited by Richard
J . Bernstein (New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1960), p. xxxiv.
43Ibid., p. xxxv.

44 W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and
Sartre (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., 1969), p. 305.

45John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and
Company, Inc., 1925), p. 399.

46Ibid., p. 437.

47M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.
Fisher Unwin, 1908), p. 306.

48Friedrich N ietzsche, “The Antichrist.” In The Portable Nietzsche, edited
by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press), p. 611.

4Hbid., pp. 581-582.

50Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, translated by Paul Cohn
(New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), pp. 226-227.

5lIbid., p. 222.

52Ibid., p. 317.

53John Wilcox, Truth and Value in Nietzsche (Ann Arbor: University of

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

85

Michigan Press, 1974), p. 198.

54Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, translated by M. Cowan
(Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1955), pp. 100-101.

55Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony
Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 424.

56Friedrich Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra.” In The Portable
Nietzsche, edited by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press,
1954), p. 271.

57W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and
Sartre (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., 1969), p. 291.

THERMAL PLUMES ALONG THE WISCONSIN
SHORE OF LAKE MICHIGAN

R. P. Madding
F. L. Scarpace
T. Green III

University Wisconsin
Madison

ABSTRACT

The surface temperature characteristics of the thermal plumes
associated with Wisconsin power plants on Lake Michigan were
measured by an aircraft mounted, thermal line scanner. Ap¬
proximately 100 images of each of the heated water discharges were
acquired and calibrated during a two year project. A pictorial
representation of more than 300 of these thermal images are
included in the report. The use of these images by the Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources for regulatory purposes is
discussed. Recommendations for future operational remote sensing
of thermal discharges are made.

INTRODUCTION

Over the past decade, a good deal of both scientific and political
controversy has centered on the use of water taken from the Great
Lakes to cool large condensers associated with steam-electric power
plants. Great Lakes water is abundant, and the cooling process
relatively inexpensive. However, the water is warmed from 10F to
40F before being returned to the lake. This warmed water forms a
“thermal plume:” a body of water distinguishable from the
surrounding, natural lake water by reason of its increased
temperature.

Thermal plumes may harm the ecosystem in the nearshore area.
Fish behavior is changed noticeably by the plume.1, 2, 3 Benthic life,
including fish eggs, cannot escape the higher temperatures. While
such effects can be loosely estimated from laboratory and
theoretical studies, field measurements must form the basis of any
meaningful assessments of environmental impact at a particular
location. Since the amount of warm water in a thermal plume must
be a key parameter in measuring and understanding the plume’s
effect, the plume size and shape should be determined as part of the

86

1977]

Madding et al. - Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

87

measurement program. Because the surface area of the plume is
often larger than the deeper warm water area, aerial remote¬
sensing techniques, combined with a few suitable temperature
measurements taken in the water, can be used in both monitoring
and assessing the effects of thermal plumes.4

The thermal plumes associated with five large power plants along
the Wisconsin shore of Lake Michigan and one power plant in Green
Bay were studied. The description is designed to give an overview of
water-surface temperatures in the vicinity of these power plants,
together with a feeling for the average sizes and shapes of the
plumes and their variations with important environmental
parameters. The more technical supporting data are referenced
where this is appropriate.

BACKGROUND

Studies of thermal plumes on Lake Michigan before 1972 were
mainly performed by the Argonne National Laboratory, and by
various university groups interested in particular aspects of the
plumes. In 1972, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources
(DNR) issued a directive requiring that all important aspects of the
thermal plumes associated with heat discharges greater than 500 x
106 Btus per hour* be studied intensively over all seasons of the
year.5 The results of these studies were to be used by DNR to guide
the establishment of “mixing zones” within which the thermal
water-quality standards set forth in the Wisconsin Administrative
Code (section NR 102) would not apply.

Three power companies were affected by this directive:

Wisconsin Electric Power Company (WEPC), Wisconsin Public
Service Corporation (WPSC), and Wisconsin Power and Light
(WPL).

The power plants exceeding the heat-discharge minimum are:
Oak Creek (1670 MW**; WEPC) Edgewater (477 MW; WPL)
Point Beach (1048 MW; WEPC) Pulliam (393 MW, WPSC)
Kewaunee (540 MW; WPSC, WPL) Lakeside (311 MW, WEPC)

*A Btu is a British Thermal Unit: The heat required to raise the
temperature of one pound of water IF.

**Peak electrical generating capacity in megawatts (MW).

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The locations of these plants are shown in Fig. 1. The Kewaunee
plant came on line quite recently, and plume studies at that plant
are not very extensive.

One outcome of the DNR directive was a grant from the three
power companies to the University of Wisconsin Institute for
Environmental Studies, under which the university was to conduct
an extended series of aerial remote sensing missions to measure the
surface characteristics of the above-mentioned thermal plumes.
One hundred “thermal scans” (see below) were to be taken of each
plume, over a study period of at least one year.

Each thermal scan provides a picture of the surface character of a
thermal plume at an instant in time. A large number of these scans
provides a “plume climatology,” which shows how each thermal
plume usually looks and how it changes with variations in both load
and weather conditions.

The resources to conduct this program came from a number of
groups:

i. The DNR provided the aircraft and flight crew, and much of
the funding for data analysis.

ii. The three power companies provided much of the remote

L

A

K

E

M

C

H

G

A

N

FIGURE 1. Route flown for routine thermal plume monitoring.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

89

sensing equipment, partial maintenance funding for the
aircraft, and surface temperature measurements during the
thermal scanning missions.

iii. The University provided experienced equipment operators
and the data recording equipment, and performed the data
analysis. Much of the support for this work came indirectly
from NASA, NSF (RANN), the Sea Grant Program, and the
University of Wisconsin-Madison Graduate School.

As the scanning missions were being performed, consulting firms
and other groups were sampling both the subsurface temperatures
associated with the thermal plumes, and the effect of these elevated
temperatures on lake biota. Similar work, but along more scientific
lines, was carried out by Argonne National Laboratories, and by
various University groups under the Sea Grant Program and the
Office of Water Resources Research.

THERMAL SCANNING: A Brief Introduction

All bodies radiate energy. Broadly speaking, this energy varies
with body temperature, and with the molecular character of the
body (its “emissivity”). Water is relatively cool (compared to the sun,
for example). Because of this, the radiated energy is almost entirely
in wavelengths long compared to those that the eye can detect.
Because of absorption, the energy radiated into the atmosphere
from a body of water comes only from the water surface. Water has
an emissivity which is always very close to one, so that the radiated
energy is proportional to the temperature of the water surface.

Certain devices react to this long-wave radiation. For example, a
detector made of mercury, cadmium, and telluride which is kept
extremely cold will generate a voltage roughly proportional to the
amount of long-wave energy falling on it. Thus, it generates an
electrical signal which is proportional to surface-water
temperatures.

The detector is mounted in an aircraft, and used in conjunction
with a set of mirrors which collect the radiation emitted from a spot
on the water surface and focus it on the detector. (Fig. 3) The
mirrors rotate so that the spot sweeps out a path perpendicular to
the direction of flight. The assemblage, together with the associated
motors, electronics, and a detector cooling system is a thermal
scanner. (Fig. 2)

The signal from the detector is recorded on magnetic tape, which
can be played back later through a special film-maker to give a TV-

90

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

like picture or “thermal scan” of the temperature of the water
surface. It is important to remember that light and dark tones in
such a “thermal image” correspond only to water surface
temperature. The shore usually appears much different than the
water surface because of a large difference in emissivity.
Throughout this paper, light tones on the thermal image denote
warm surface water, and dark tones cool surface water. The
maximum water-temperature difference is usually about 20F.

Because of atmospheric effects and problems associated with
radiative devices within the scanner used to obtain reference
temperatures, thermal images can only rarely be interpreted to

DETECTOR

electrical

RECORDER

signal

water

FIGURE 2. Block Diagram of a Thermal Scanner

FIGURE 3. Airborne Thermal Scanning

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

91

give actual water-surface temperatures unless at least two different
water temperatures are measured by more direct methods (eg, with
a standard thermometer). With these, the entire image can be
calibrated so that the temperature at any point on the water surface
is known. Similarly, one should know the important physical
parameters governing the character of the thermal plume, in order
to rationally interpret the thermal image. The plant load, the
pumping rate of cooling water, surface wind, waves, and nearshore
lake currents are usually the most important factors.
Measurements such as those described above are often called
“ground truth.” A more complete description of the ground truth
used to calibrate a thermal image is given by Scarpace et al.4

THE OPERATION

(a) The Scanning Flights

The flight path normally used to monitor the Lake Michigan
thermal plumes is shown in Fig. 1. The flight lines were always
straight in the vicinity of the power plants. They were usually
positioned so that from 10% to 20% of the thermal image was of the
shore; thus the image could be easily scaled during data analysis.
The flying height was generally chosen to maximize thermal detail,
while still including the entire plume in the thermal image, and was
almost always between 2,000 feet and 5,000 feet above the lake.
Scanning was done only near the power plants unless interesting
thermal structure such as lake upwelling was noticed at other
locations.

The flight line shown in Fig. 1 takes about 2.5 hours to complete.
Occasionally, two scans of each plume were obtained by returning
southward along the lake shore instead of returning directly to
Madison. This altered flight line took about 3.5 hr. Before a flight
was begun weather conditions had to be suitable over all the power
plants. Occasionally conditions worsened during a flight, forcing
part of the flight to be cancelled.

(b) On Site Measurements

Shortly before takeoff each power company was notified of the
expected flyover time at each plant. The companies relayed this
information to the individual plants, and ground truth data were
usually taken within a half hour of the actual flyover. This
information generally included two water-surface temperatures,
pumping rate and estimates of wind and surface waves at the site.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The type of temperature measurements at each plant varied
according to the degree of involvement in the project and the nature
of the power plant intake and discharge. Details for each plant are
given in Fig. 4.

Oak Creek: Bucket* temperatures taken at points A and B
provided the necessary scanner calibration points. Point A is near
one of the subsurface discharges and point B is near the cooling
water intake. At times the temperatures in these areas were not
uniform over one scan spot size. This non-uniformity was typical of
shore based efforts; the problem could only be alleviated by
measuring offshore temperatures from a boat. The submerged
discharges add to the problem.

Lakeside: Bucket temperatures were taken in the south discharge
channel at point G and at point H. At times the temperature at point
H was not uniform over one scan spot size. The water in the surface
discharge canal was well mixed and gave good results.

Edgewater: Recorded thermocouple data provided the thermal
scanner calibration temperatures at Edgewater. One subsurface
intake and two surface discharge temperatures were monitored.
Unit 3 and 4 discharge temperatures were recorded at the
discharge and at the condenser for each unit. Unit 1 and 2 discharge
temperatures were recorded at the condenser for each unit.
Occasionally, the discharge temperature for units 3 and 4 disagreed
by several degrees F from the weighted average of the individual
condenser temperatures. WPL personnel indicated that this was
due to recirculating some discharge water through the intake to
prevent freezing. Since units 1 and 2 were not used for recirculation
it was assumed that the averaged condenser discharge
temperatures represented the surface discharge temperature at
point Y. The temperature monitored at point Z (Units 3 and 4) was
used for that discharge. The weighted average from units 3 and 4
was used only when data were not available at point Z. The weighted
average was not used when the possibility of recirculation existed.
Where possible the two calibration points were taken at points Z and
Y with the intake, X, as a check.

Point Beach : Near the time of flyover power plant personnel,
using the bucket technique, measured the temperature at points J

See Page 96 for calibration.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

93

and L (Fig.4). Usually these two temperatures were sufficient for
scanner calibration. When unit 1 (point J) was down, the south
discharge temperature differed little from the temperature at L.
For these occurrences the recorded discharge temperature for unit
2 (point K) was used as the high temperature calibration point.
Tests on unit 1 indicated negligible temperature drop from the
recorded discharge temperature and the bucket temperature at
point J. Thus point K is shown at the end of the unit 2 outfall. Usually
the temperature at point L was uniform over at least one scan spot

94

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

size. This seems fortuitous; frequently one must go offshore in a boat
to find a large enough area of uniform temperature for scanner
calibration.

Pulliam: Thermal scanner calibration temperatures were
measured by recording thermocouples at points E (intake) and D
(discharge). The highest temperature seen by the scanner in the
discharge canal was taken as representative of the thermocouple
temperature. The temperature at point E is a weighted average of
the temperatures at the north and south water intakes. The average
depends on the units operating and their relative location to each
intake. According to power plant personnel, the amount of water
drawn through each intake cannot be readily determined.
Therefore, analysis of Pulliam scanner data was necessarily limited
to those occasions when the north and south intake temperatures
were approximately equal. The temperature change from the
surface water near the intake to point E is also unknown.

(c) Equipment

Only limited descriptions of the equipment used are given below.
More detailed descriptions can be found in the manufacturers’
technical specifications. All equipment in the aircraft was checked
out in operation before each flight. The aircraft used to obtain the
thermal images in this report is the Wisconsin Department of
Natural Resources DC-3 . The DC-3 is relatively large compared to
most aircraft used for thermal scanning, and can fly quite slowly. A
well tuned area navigation system together with a downward¬
looking TV viewer which can be monitored by the pilot allowed us to
set up and easily reproduce an optimum flight line over each
thermal plume. It would be extremely difficult to find an aircraft
more suitable to the scanning operation.

Two thermal scanners were used in this work. A prototype Texas
Instruments RS-300 scanner was used in the initial stages, but was
replaced by a more accurate Texas Instruments RS-1SA scanner in
late May, 1973. This latter scanner is electronically roll stabilized,
and is thus much lighter. Its mercury-cadmium telluride detector is
cooled by liquid nitrogen, and is sensitive to radiation in the 8-14
micron waveband.

The signal from the scanner was displayed, recorded, and
reconstructed for analysis using the four devices shown
schematically in Fig. 5.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

95

t i

Visicorder

Film

Maker

FIGURE 5. Data Acquisition and Display

(a) Oscilloscope: Tektronix 5B10N
This displayed the voltage trace resulting from one sweep of the
scan spot across the water surface. It allowed the scanner operator to
monitor the signal from the detector both before and after being
recorded, and to check the aircraft flight line.

(b) Tape Recorder: Sangamo Saber III (FM)

The Saber III is a wideband group II FM instrument. It has a
frequency response of DC to 250 kiloherz at a record speed of 60 inches
per second. The signal to noise ratio at this speed is 33 decibels. The
raw data are recorded in an analog made on this instrument in the
aircraft. The tape recorder is then returned to the laboratory and
used with the analog tapes to produce film imagery and digital
computer compatible tapes.

(c) Visicorder: Honeywell 1856 fiber-optics cathode-ray tube
visicorder oscillograph. This was used with nonpermanent light-
sensitive visicorder paper to produce a crude thermal image a few
seconds after the aircraft passed over a plume, with which to insure
proper coverage of each plume. This imagery was not used for data
analysis.

The visicorder was also used to make thermal imagery on film from
the data on magnetic tape. The quality of this imagery, however, was
below that obtained with the film-maker discussed below.

(d) Film-maker: Texas Instruments RFR-70

This instrument makes thermal imagery on standard 70 mm
photographic film from a magnetic tape. The result is a negative from
which photographic prints can be made. The imagery is corrected for
the inherent tangential distortion of the scanner. All imagery in this
paper was made with the RFR-70.

(e) Computers:

The analog imagery was converted to digital form on a PDP-11
computer. The digital tapes were then interactively processed on a
PEP 801 remote terminal connected with the UW-MSN Univac 1110
computer.6

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

DATA ANALYSIS

Calibrating the Thermal Imagery

The quality of the thermal scanner data is limited mainly by the
quality of the ground-truth temperatures. We must first relate the
scanner output voltage, converted to digital values, to the water-
surface temperature. Experimental tests and radiation theory have
shown that, for the temperature range in which we are working, the
scanner output voltage V is very closely related to the absolute
water temperature T (in degrees Kelvin) by the equation:

V = A + B T4

Here, A and B are constants, which are ascertained from the two
ground-truth temperatures.4 This equation is accurate to within
0.1 F if the two ground-truth temperatures span the water-surface
temperatures range. A cooling-water outfall temperature and an
ambient (i.e., outside the plume) lake temperature usually meet this
criterion. Also, the parcel of water used as a ground-truth “point”
should be isothermal over an area somewhat greater than that of the
scan spot, due to the response time of the scanner electronics. This is
an area of about 400 square feet at a flying height of 2,000 feet.
Finally, the water temperatures should be measured at the water
surface, or at least near the surface, and in well mixed water.

Two temperature-measuring techniques were used in our
program. One was to use the intake and outfall temperatures
recorded routinely by the power plant, usually with thermocouples.
However, these temperatures are often unsatisfactory because they
are taken well beneath the water surface, and can differ by several
degrees from those sensed by the scanner. A more reliable
technique involved taking two “bucket” temperatures near the time
of flyover. At two designated locations, a tethered bucket was
lowered, filled with “surface” water, and retrieved. The
temperature of this water was measured with a standard
thermometer. Three problems were associated with this shore-
based technique: the isothermal area near shore was sometimes
smaller in size than the scan spot; the bucket temperatures on
occasion did not span the full water-surface temperature range; the
water was on occasion not well mixed, so that a surface skin may
have been present.

The size of the isothermal area was checked during analysis by
looking at digital values adjacent to the selected calibration value.
For 90% of the plumes analyzed the calibration points were
isothermal to within 0.3F. The bucket temperature for analyzed

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

97

data spanned a temperature range adequate to insure negligible
error; for those instances where this was not true the data could not
be analyzed. The hot calibration temperature was usually
measured in the plume discharge, a well mixed area. The skin effect
could, however, affect the cold calibration temperature. Com¬
parisons of in situ temperature mapping from a boat, and airborne
thermal scanning under a variety of environmental conditions
indicated good agreement with one exception (Point Beach, June 6,
1973).7 It was felt that the surface skin effect contributed to the
differences in this exception. Of all the plumes analyzed less than 5%
exhibited the unusual characteristics of the June 6, 1973 scan.
Errors as large as IF or 2F could be present in those analyses. Some
ground truth data were obtained from consulting firms working for
the power companies. However, attempts to coordinate measure¬
ment efforts with these firms were largely unsuccessful, so that
overlapping data are sparse. At Point Beach, several plume¬
measuring efforts were coordinated with the Argonne National
Laboratory.7

Finding the Size of the Thermal Plumes

The scanner output voltage recorded on tape in the aircraft was
converted to digital values in the laboratory on a PDP-11 computer
together with an analog-to-digital converter. The digital tapes were
then analyzed interactively with a graphics display terminal to
connect the operator with the University of Wisconsin-Madison
Univac 1110 computer.6 The terminal displayed a digital
representation of the thermal image. The operator used this image
to select ground truth locations and isolate the digital values
associated with the plume and ambient lake water from extraneous
heat sources. The digital scanner voltage values were then
converted to water surface temperatures by the above equation, and
areas enclosed within various isotherms calculated. A schematic
example is shown in Fig. 6. One should recall that the normal
definition of a mixing zone is equivalent to the area contained with
the 3F (above ambient) isotherm.8

Assigning an area to the digital values requires knowledge of the
aircraft groundspeed and its flying height. To obtain greater
accuracy the tangential distortion-corrected film image of the scan
was scaled with aerial photographs and power plant scale drawings
as references. Corrected aircraft speeds and altitudes were then
calculated. Slight variations in speed and altitude during the scan
were not corrected. Together these variations could introduce as

98

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

much as 7% error in the calculated areas. This occurred only on very
turbulent days; for most of the scans the error was much less.

10 F above
ambient
isotherm

/ Temperature
i within dotted ,
' line is greater /
\ than 52 F 7

Water temperature
outside the influence
of the plume
is 42 F

(the ambient temperature)

////'///////

^outfall

FIGURE 6. Schematic of Thermal Plume Isotherm

RESULTS

A photographic print was made of each RFR-70 thermal image,
with careful quality control to enhance the thermal plume. The
prints for each power plant were arranged as a mosaic and
photographically reduced. For each of these pages of thermal
images a corresponding page with pertinent information was made.
The typewritten pages are arranged so that the data pertaining to
each thermal image are in the corresponding frame. These pairs of
typewritten/ thermal image pages are Figs. 8 through 16. To
further save space the data are presented without units. After a
brief perusal of Fig. 7, an example with units included, the reader
will find this “mosaic tabulation” easy to comprehend. In some cases
not all the environmental and/or plant data were available. Dashes
are used in these instances. No areas are listed where the surface
calibration temperatures are missing. The metric system was not
used because DNR requested surface areas in square feet enclosed
within the 3F, 6F and 10F isotherms (the pertinent regulations are

(wind direction)
l (from north)

N 60^^

ambient lake
temperature,

/ pumping rate'
y cubic feet/sec,

.6 .1 .01

/ areas enclosed within the 3 F, 6 F, and 10 F J
\ isotherms, square feet x 106. /

FIGURE 7. Interpretation of Data Presentation Legend.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

99

written in degrees F). It would be possible of course to list areas in
square meters enclosed within the 1.67C, 3.33C, and 5.55C
isotherms. However, in view of the fact that the state regulations
regarding mixing zones are formulated in English units the
authors have decided to avoid confusion in one realm, at the risk of
creating it in another.

Error Summary

Error sources stemming from temperature calibration and
scaling of the imagery have been discussed. The maximum
expected error in either case is less than 10% for the plumes
analyzed. For most of the plumes the errors should be considerably
less. Temperature and scale calculations both contribute to the
error in the final result, the area enclosed within isotherms.
Assessing the contribution due to scale errors is straightforward;
assessing that due to temperature is more complex. Area uncertain¬
ties due to errors in temperature are modulated by the temperature
gradient. That is, where the slope of the area vs. temperature curve
is the steepest, the effect of temperature errors will be the greatest.
The wide variability in the structure of thermal plumes demands
each plume be evaluated individually. In general, however, we feel
a conservative estimate of the error bounds on the results presented
here is 10 ± %.

CONCLUSIONS AND RECOMMENDATIONS

It is impossible to conclude this report without a brief set of
recommendations based on the misgivings, frustrations, and
hindsight associated with two years of work. The authors offer the
recommendations below in the hope that they may be incorporated
as part of a cost-effective, regional remote sensing program serving
the needs of the State of Wisconsin.

Ground Truth The weakest link in the process of generating high
quality thermal contour maps from raw thermal scanner data is the
measurement of water surface temperatures required for calibra¬
tion. Although the authors were not satisfied with the ground truth
effort described above, it would be difficult to (inexpensively)
improve upon it on an operational basis. Two techniques of
improving future ground truth are worth investigating. These are:

1. Developing specially painted, large, heated panels of known
emissivity. These panels would be strategically placed near

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the plume and frequently thermally calibrated. For routine
work, they would only need to be uncovered prior to flyover
and their temperature monitored.

2. Changing the scanner wavelength sensitivity from a range of
8 to 14 microns to one of 10 to 11.5 microns. Atmospheric
effects are considerably reduced in the latter range.9 It may
then be feasible to calibrate the scanner in the laboratory, and

9/20/73 13 ’

1 60

1/30/74 16 SW --

10/17/73 10 1

5 3

11/5/73 15 W 49

170 624

190 716

GG 251

.6 .1 .01

3.4 .9 .2

.3 .2 .1

2/9/73 13 W 34
220 919
.8 .2 .01

2/12/73 13 SE 33
240 S49

2.8 1.7 .3

10/5/73 10 WSW 60
24 0

9.8 2.2 .2

2/21/73 16 MW 34
210 830
1/4 .8 .2

10/18/73 11 MW 52
34 362
.3 .01 .01

1/30/73 7 WSW 33
201 978
1.2 .8 .1

2/20/74 5 SW 34
220 234
.3 .2 .1

3/21/74 15 WSW 36
226 716
2.1 .7 .01

3/27/74 9 SE 37
188 633
.4 .04 .01

3/13/74 --- ---
175 596

2/22/73 1 3 V 3/!
235 950

1.8 .6 .3

2/5/73 14 ME 35
160 949
2.1 .8 .3

3/12/74 17 NME 35
148 512
1.4 .4 .1

2/18/74 13 SSW 33
185 605
.5 .3 .2

2/13/74 11 S 35
58 399
.1 .02 .01

4/11/73 13 WSW 37
220 978
2.0 .4 .1

4/12/73 9 N 39
240 918
1.9 1.2 .3

5/30/74 10 NME 49
160 1496

4.9 1.2 .1

1977]

Madding et at. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

101

FIGURE 8. Thermal images and data for the Lakeside power plant.

102

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

neglect atmospheric effects altogether. The effects of the
surface skin are not well understood.10 Field experiments
under various environmental conditions would be useful to
ascertain under what conditions serious discrepancies occur
between scanner-derived surface water temperatures and
the actual near-surface water temperatures.

1/30/73 7 SW 34
1072 1907
3.0 2.1

2/9/73 10 W 34
1040 1912

4.1 2.5 .2

2/5/73 14 ML 34
1180 2135
1.23 .57 .1

3/6/74 13 SW 39
1135 2135

13.5 2.7 .9

1/4/74 13 W 36
989 2134

5.5 3.5 1.0

3/13/74 - -- 35
899 1934

8.1 6.9 3.6

2/8/74 2 W 32
1172 2153
.5 .5 .3

1/11/74 11 V. 33
1018 2134
2.2 1.6 .1

1/8/74 6 SW 33
1199 2134
1.9 .7 .1

3/6/74 13 SW 39
1135 2135

13.5 2.7 1.0

3/21/74 15 WSW 38
1035 2153
36.0 13.4 .8

11/5/73 15 MW 51
1198 2135
3.0 .1 none

9/10/73 11 W 55
1267 2335
3.9 .2 .1

1/9/74 8 WNW 32
1101 2134
2.2 1.9 1.0

2/26/74 15 S 33
777 1738

5.1 2.0 .1

4/23/74 1 6 V.I 49
1075 1913
4.3 .1 none

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

103

FIGURE 9. Thermal images for the Oak Creek power plant.

104

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Routine Monitoring Routine thermal monitoring of thermal
plumes is recommended. Public interest in all aspects of power
generation has understandably increased with the dramatic
increase in the number of power plants. Aerial remote sensing of
thermal discharges is an inexpensive way to insure compliance with

7/ 1 1 /73 8 N. E 5 4

I : 19 120

I 1 : 392 354

11.0 6.7 2.9

9/4/73 15 SSE 51

I : 45 120

II: 386 355

5.0 1.0 .2

10/5/73 10 SSE 58

I : 38 475

I I r 387 475

5.4 1.7 .6

5/31/73 12 II 50

I : 42 120

II: 391 354

4.9 1.8 .6

5/30/73 10 NNE 50

I : 42 120

II. 372 354

3.7 1.1 .6

7/3/73 10 S 53

I : off

II: 394 354

1.3.3 .1

4/17/73 26 S42

I : 44 120

II : 394 354

9.5 3.9 .4

5/15/74 12 SSE 44

1 1 : 9364 ] 364

13.6 1.7 .5

9/10/73 12 NSW 48

I : 23 120

II: 394 354

6/14/73 12 S 51

I : 44 120

II: 389 354

3.4 .3 .03

C/7/73 20 SW 49

I : 40 120

II: 382 355

2.0 .7 .1

6/15/73 15 SSE 48
I: 44 120

II: 391 227

6.8 2.3 .6

6/6/73 3 E 50

I: 41 120

II: 391 227

14.8 5.7 1.2

9/7/73 10 E ---

I : 25 60

II : 390 354

7/10/73 10 NE 44

I 45 120

II: 388 354

5.4 2.8 .5

5/24/73 5 SE 52

I: 46 120

II: 43 100

5.3 2.3 .01

6/12/74 18 W .50

!i:°390] 304

1.7 .6 .2

7/3/74 20 S 53

I: 29 ] 314

II: 335 J

5.4 1.6 .6

5/11/73 15 WNW 50

I : 46 120

II: 57 100
.4 .1 .01

9/14/73 8 SSE 55

I: 45 120

II: 391 354

22.5 14.3 1.6

7/1 0/73 8 II ME 44

I : 27 120

II : 41 6 354

2.4 .3 .2 !

6/26/73 13 WSU 50
I: 24 60

II : 392 354

1.3 .7 .2

5/9/74 10 NE 47

11:^279 ^ 287

2.2 .7 .2

10/10/73 12 S 58

I: 29 1 4H

II : 382 J ' 14

4.4 1.2 .6

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

105

FIGURE 10. Thermal images for the Edgewater power plant.

106

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

regulations, and keep the public informed of the extent of thermal
discharges into Lake Michigan. New power plants should be
monitored frequently initially, to extend what has been reported
herein. Routine monitoring would also be useful as a guide and a
complement to other thermal plume sampling programs.

5/31/73 10 SW 51

6/27/73 11 SSW 50

7/3/73 SW 51

6/12/74 16 W 50

I: 480 858

I: 500 858

I : 970 858

I : 366 486

II: 450 858

II: 479 858

II: 970 858

II : 490 871

13.2 2.1 .2

3.3 .5 .1

4.0 .9 .2

2.9 1.0 .2

7/10/73 10 NNE 54
I: 500 858
II: 500 858
11.1 2.8 .3

7/17/74 16 S 55
I : 500 858
II: 500 858
5.2 .3 .1

9/7/73 9 SSE 48
I : 495 858
II : 500 858
16.9 3.3 .6

9/10/73 9 WSW 49

6/14/73 9 SSW 50

6/15/73 12 SSW 47

5/11/73 12 NW 49

I : 459 853

I : 500 858

I : 500 858

I: 365 858

II: 495 858

II: 495 858

II : 480 858

II : 480 858

21.7 5.7 1.0

5.9 2.0 .3

18.2 .8 .1

5.3 .7 .04

5/21/74 9 SSE 49
II: 495 884
4.6 .8 .2

6/7/73 14 SW 49
I: 487 858
II: 500 858
8.8 2.0 .2

6/26/73 calm 51
I : 970 858
II: 970 858
2.1 .5 .1

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

107

FIGURE 11. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (A)

108

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Round-the-Lake Monitoring If routine monitoring is deemed
necessary, it would be foolish not to monitor an entire region, or at
least all of Lake Michigan. Aerial remote sensing has proven to be
quite cost-effective for monitoring the Wisconsin portion of Lake
Michigan; the cost-effectiveness would certainly increase if all of
Lake Michigan were included.

10/12/73 12 SW 50

I . 474 353

II. 508 858
t 1 . 8 4.5 .8

9/14/73 2 NE 62
I : 390 858
II: 505 858

32.4 10.3 1.0

9/12/73 4 WNW 58
I : 500 858
II : 500 858
20.3 9.9 1.5

1 1/1 9/73 9 ?!Nt- 42
1 : '4 70 436
II : 500 871
11.9 5.3 3.2

10/1/73 8 ME 60
1 . 480 858
II : 500 358

65.4 12.6 1.5

9/14/73 2 NE 61
I : 390 858
II: 505 858
41 .9 14.5 .3

9/14/71

10/10/73 13 S 56
P 480 858
II: 507 853
3.7 1.3 .3

10/5/73 10 W 60
I : 400 858
II : 505 858
39.8 7.2 1.0

3/7/74 19 NE 36
I : 475 490
1 1 : 5‘00 490

18.4 13.8 6.3

4/17/73 2& SE 33
I: 371 858
1 1 : 467 853

10.7 4.0 .4

9/20/73 9 N 57
I : 500 858
II : 500 358
5.6 1.6 .8

4/5/73 8 SE 37
371 884

4.4 1.2 .2

3/23/73 9 SE 40
I : 375 490
II : 450 490

11.7 4.7 1.0

5/30/74 1 0 N WE A 7
II: 495 884
13.5 6.0 1.2

5/30/73 7 II E 50
I : 480 858
II: 480 353

34.7 24.9 3.5

4/9/72

4/12/73 11 !< 38
373 884
3.7 1.4 .1

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

109

FIGURE 12. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (B)

110

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

9/15/71

4/11/72

4/1 5/72

7/11/73

5/9/74 3 NNE --
II : 490 884

4/6/72

4/11/72

4/11/72

4/12/72

5/15/74 9 MW 44
II: 488 884
10.5 1.5 .3

Sept. 1971

4/9/72

5/15/74 13 NW 43
II: 500 884
3.3 1.0 .1

4/12/72

4/15/72

4/23/74 NW 44
I : 0

II: 485 884

8.2 .6 .2

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

111

FIGURE 13. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (C)

112

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

4/17/73 10 SSW 42
227 457
1.0 .2 .1

2/19/74 5 NW .34
247 428'

.2 .1 .02

2/21/73 5 NW 33
283 400
.4 .1 .03

2/18/74 1 SW 32

233 371
.7 .1 .04

3/27/73 7 SE 37

248 363

2.0 .8 .4

10/5/73 3 W 64
270 451
1.8 1.0 .1

10/12/73 10 SSW 68

249 451

2/20/74 8 SW 32
220 371
.3 .04 .02

2/27/74 6 S 33
247 330

.4 .1 .05

2/18/74 2 S 33
245 428
.4 .4 .2

4/11/73 5 SW 37
260 377
1.1 .1 .1

4/5/73 !
257 410
1.4 .7

3/12/74
248 382
.01 0

36

0

SW

.3

41

1/4/74 4 SW 33
322 364
.3 .3 .05

2/12/73 7 SE 33
222 518
.7 .1 .02

1/11/74 4 N 32
317 422
.5 .4 .2

2/22/73 7 W 34
277 400
2.5 .6 .1

2/26/74 3 S 35

239 359
.5 .1 .02

1977] Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan 113

FIGURE 14. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (A)

114

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

9/7/73 -- 70
290 603
.5 .1 .01

2/5/73 6 E 34
350 466
2.0 .2 .01

11/19/73 7 HE 42
331 385
4.6 1.3 .8

2/8/74 2 SiJ 33
275 415
.4 .2 .04

9/4/73 8 SSW 68
286 744
.5 .4 .2

3/6/74 6 SU 36
246 332
3.4 .4 .2

9/1 2/73 4 mvj 62
290 796
7.4 3.1 1.2

2/9/73 4 U --
356 466

6/12/74 --- 62
261 414

1/39/73 4 E 32
313 388
.7 .2 .02

1 0/1 7/73 4 <:«/ --
347 536

1/30/74 6 SC 33

359 471

1.6 .2 .02

4/23/74 9 H 44
360 593
.2 .1 .02

9/20/ 73 2 ilE 58
282 451
.9 .5 .1

9/14/73 5 SW -
322 744

3/7/74 9 ME 34
234 382
.3 .1 .03

3/13/74 2 E 36
245 382
.6 .04 .01

9/10/73 3 SW --
281 796

7/10/73 3 NE 72
323 874
3.2 .8 .2

7/11/73 3 ESE 72
333 874
5.8 2.1 .1

1977]

Madding et at. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

115

FIGURE 15. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (B)

116

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

6/15/73 4 SW 72
336 833
.8 .4 .02

3/23/73 7 SC 37
251 372
.4 .1 .03

6/14/73 3 SW --
328 833

5/21/74 --- 56
265 431
1.3 .5 .1

6/7/73 8 SW --
351 743
1.1 .5 .1

10/1/73 4 WE 66
283 373
.6 .2 .1

10/10/73 6 S 63
306 396
1.3 .7 .3

7/17/74 --- 76
284 848
.9 .1 .03

6/6/73 4 W 70
343 833
1.1 .6 .1

5/30/74 --- 61
267 403
1.6 .4 .04

5/15/74 5 SW 50
244 453
.7 .4 .02

7/3/73 5 SSW 71
308 774
.8 .3 .03

5/15/74 6 W 52
254 453
.4 .1 .02

5/31/73 5 SW 59
348 594

.6 .3 .1

3/28/73 2 SE 34
258 363
1.3 .7 .3

5/11/73 11 W 54
347 652
.3 .2 .1

9/14/73 4 SW 79
327 744
.3 .1 .02

5/30/73 7 S 52
341 594
.6 .3 .3

7/3/74 --- 72
360 932
.2 .1 .02

1977]

Madding et al. — Therman Plumes , L. Michigan

117

FIGURE 16. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (C)

dM sn1

118

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Thermal Standards The thermal standards for power-plant
thermal plumes should be written operationally, as a compromise
between “end-of-pipe” standards and biological-effect standards.
That is, standards should be based on information that can be
obtained with a reasonable effort. Standard remote-sensing
monitoring procedures should be developed, which would include
standardized, routine, ground-truth measuring techniques. The
control of raw data through the entire processing procedure should
also be standardized to insure that legal integrity is maintained.
Every attempt should be made to avoid arbitariness by continuing
intensive biological effect programs at a few representative plants,
rather than studying all plants on relatively limited bases.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In any study as extensive as this many people besides the
principal authors are necessary for completion of the project. It
would be difficult to list everyone who contributed his time and
talents. The authors are especially grateful for the invaluable
assistance and cooperation of the DNR flight crew, specifically, K.
Beghin, L. Sypchalla, J. Palmer, G. Olson, and T. Sheafor. This
project would never “have gotten off” the ground without the superb
administrative, technical, and advisory help offered by these men.
In addition the quality of the scanner data is due in large part to
excellent piloting of the DC-3 as well as the superior suitability of
this aircraft for research purposes.

The authors also wish to thank university personnel, Dr. L. Fisher
whose expertise in interactive computer programming was a
critical and essential aspect for the success of this project, and F.
Townsend, L. Jaeger, W. Reindl, G. Howard and C. Fricke who
assisted in the preparation of this report. The authors are grateful
for the support and cooperation of all agencies and utilities involved
whose names are mentioned in the text.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Neill, W. H., and J. J. Magnuson. 1974. Distributional ecology and
behavioral thermoregulation of fishes in relation to heated effluent
from a power plant at Lake Monona, Wisconsin; Trans. Amer. Fish.
Soc. 103: 663-710.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

119

2. Robinson, J. P. 1973. Migratory Movements of Adult Coho Salmon,
Onconorhynchus Kisutch, in Lake Michigan as revealed by Ultrasonic
Telemetry Methods: I. General Movements. II. Behavior Near the
Point Beach Nuclear Power Plant Thermal Plume. M.S. Thesis;
Zoology, Univ. Wisconsin— Madison.

3. Stuntz, W. E. 1973. Distribution of Fishes near Point Beach Power
Plant, Lake Michigan; MS Thesis, Zoology, Univ. Wisconsin—
Madison.

4. Scarpace, F. L., R. P. Madding, and T. G. Green III; 1975. Scanning
Thermal Plumes; Photogram. Engr. and Remote Sensing 41: Oct.,
1975.

5. Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources Administrative Code
NR102.04: “Lake Michigan Thermal Standards;” Register, Jan. 1972.

6. Madding, R. P., and L. T. Fisher. 1976. Interactive Analysis of
Thermal Imagery. Proc. Amer. Soc. Photogramm; 42nd Annual
Meeting; Feb., 1976.

7. Madding, R. P., J. V. Tokar, and G. J. Marmer. 1974. A Comparison of
Aerial Infrared and In Situ Thermal Plume Measurement Techni¬
ques. Proc. Environ. Effects Cooling Systems at Nuclear Power
Plants; IAEA Symposium; Oslo, Norway; Aug. 1974.

8. Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources Proposed Ad-
minstrative Code NR102.05; “Lake Michigan and Lake Superior
Thermal Standards”, approved by DNR Board, Nov. 21, 1974.

9. Razumovskii, I. T. 1972. Effect of the Atmosphere on the Accuracy of
Measuring Sea-Surface Temperature by Aircraft-Borne
Radiometers. Radiatsionnye Issledovaniya v Atmosphere (At¬
mospheric Radiation Studies), 1972. Translation available from U.S.
Department of Commerce, Natl. Tech. Inform. Ser., Springfield, Va.
22151.

10. Ewing, G., and E. D. McAlister, On the thermal boundary layer of the
ocean; Science; 131; 174.

CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MACROPHYTES IN
GREEN LAKE, WISCONSIN, FROM 1921 TO 1971

Mary Jane Bumby
Green Lake , Wisconsin

ABSTRACT

In 1921, H . W . Rickett studied the macrophytes in this lake and
his data are the basis for a 50 year comparison. The 1971 and 1921
data at the 30 selected stations showed that, overall, total biomass
decreased. Five species increased in biomass while eight species
decreased; four species of Potamogeton were not found in the 1971
quadrats, but all except one have been identified as still present
elsewhere in the lake. Myriophyllum spicatum , Vallisneria
americana and Potamogeton crispus have the largest increases,
while Chara sp. had the largest decrease of more than 600 gm/m2.
The largest total biomass decrease occurred at the deepest area in
the littoral zone 3 (3-10 m) with zone 2(1-3 m) and zone 1 (0-1 m) also
decreasing in that order. The sharp differences in biomass between
the high and low stations selected from Rickett’s report have
diminished; all the previous high stations have declined in biomass
and the low stations display no specific pattern of change. One high
and one low station within the deepest zone located where effluents
entered the lake, were devoid of vegetation in 1971. Over the 50 year
span, the total percentage of dry weights of the comparable plant
species showed an insignificant increase, but some individuals had
significant variations.

No Cladophora problem existed in Green Lake during Rickett’s
observations, but, in 1971, the biomass of the filamentous algae,
mainly Cladophora sp., formed a serious nuisance in the littoral
zone and proved to be the most important autotroph by weight in
zone 1 and third in both zones 2 and 3. Blue-green algae in the
phytoplanktonic community in 1971 were Microcystis aeruginosa,
Anabaena flos-aquae, Aphanazomenon flos-aquae and Gloeotrichia
echinulata.

It appears that the littoral plant community in Green Lake has
diminished in the past 50 years, especially in the deepest zone,
although macrophytes of foreign origin, Vallisneria americana and
filamentous algae are increasing in importance.

120

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971 121

INTRODUCTION

Green Lake, located in Green Lake County (Lat. 42° 48' N, Long.
89° 00' W), has a narrowly oval outline oriented northeast to
southwest with a length of 11.9 km and a maximum width of 3.2 km
(Fig. 1). This lake, which is the deepest inland lake (72.7 m) in the

FIGURE 1. Hydrographic map of Green Lake adapted from Marsh and
Chandler (1898) showing depth in meters and geographic
features mentioned in text. Plankton samples were collected
at Pier Station (X), Buoy Sation (#) and Deep Station (*). Some
physical data were also obtained from the latter site (Bumby
1972).

state (Juday 1914), was formed by glacial action when the Green
Bay lobe of the Wisconsin Stage of glaciation modified the
preglacial valley formed earlier by stream erosion. The ice moved
through this valley in the direction of the lake's long axis and
deepened the basin which is underlain by easily worn Potsdam
sandstone. Glacial drift closed the smaller tributary valleys and
impounded the water into the present lake basin by depositing a
moraine at the west end of the ancient valley. The water thereafter
drained through a new outlet, the present day Puchyan River,
which flows northeasterly to join the Fox River, finally draining
into Lake Michigan.

Pietenpol (1918) noted that Green Lake is not “marsh stained”.
Silver Creek is the largest stream entering the lake; additional

122

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

water comes from springs, either directly, or via five small streams
on the SW and SE shores and one stream enters the head of
Norwegian Bay, through land owned by the American Baptist
Assembly (ABA). The hydrographic map of Green Lake (Fig. 1)
shows the low areas which Rickett (1924) described as “extensive
swamps and marshes” at the Silver Creek and other stream inlets.
Other marshy areas are evident in the vicinity of Quimby’s Bay and
at the head of Norwegian Bay which Rickett described as a “muddy
bog”. The shoreline is diverse with low sandy beaches at the ends of
the lake, wooded slopes of varying steepness, and perpendicular
cliffs of Potsdam sandstone at Lucas Bluff, W of Lone Tree Point, S
of Sugar Loaf and E of Dickenson’s Bay. An unauthorized dam
which raised the level of the lake 5 ft. (1.5 m) was built by the Victor
Lawsons at one of the mills along the outlet; the date is unknown but
probably was before the first hydrographic map (Marsh and
Chandler, 1898) because the depth of the lake was reported by them
as 72.2 m. Perhaps then, this change of water level, which affected
the entire shoreline of the lake, occurred 23 years before Rickett’s
study of the macrophytes in the pristine water of Green Lake.

Presently, “Big Green”, as it is often called, is, and has been for
some years, heavily used for recreation during all seasons of the
year. It is beautifully set within a densely wooded margin which is
surrounded by a large watershed area of 27,618.8 ha (Marter and
Cheetham 1971). This basin can be divided into 1,537.8 ha in roads
and farmsteads, 991.1 ha in urban areas (two cities) and 1, 256.6 ha
in public land; the remaining 86.3% (23,832.5 ha) is mostly in
agricultural use. Because of its attractive setting, large size, depth
and proximity to populated areas, there are many houses of all sizes
along this lake’s 43.9 km of shoreline. Fortunately, extensive parts
of the shore have not been subdivided. The City of Green Lake is
located on the NE edge of the lake near the outlet. The Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources is authorized to determine the
maximum and minimum levels of the lake but the actual control of
the level is in the hands of the City of Green Lake, since it owns the
dam.

Sewer lines are located within the City of Green Lake (1,033 in
1970) but the lake is not affected because the partially treated
sewage is discharged into the outlet. Plans are underway to improve
this plant. In 1971, treated sewage effluents did enter the lake from
the ABA treatment plant, which discharges into Norwegian Bay
(Fig. 1) at station 13 (Fig. 2), and also from the City of Ripon (grown
from 3,929 population in 1920 to 7,053 in 1970) through its

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

123

FIGURE 2. Outline map of Green Lake showing- the location of the
stations sampled in 1971. Depth zones at these stations are
Zone 1 (0-1 m), Zone 2 (1-3 m) and Zone 3 (3-10 m). Station
numbers are those of Rickett (1924).

discharge into Silver Creek which enters near station 34 (Fig. 1 and
2). Septic systems are used in all other areas around the lake,
regardless of steepness of slope, soil type, and height of land above
the water table. Almost all of the previously described low-lying
areas of the lake’s shoreline have been affected by channels dredged
for boat docks and by the dredge spoils used as land fill for real
estate development. Perhaps because of these circumstances of
population growth, large watershed area, sewage disposal methods
and the change of the low-lying land from its natural state, many
symptoms of deteriorating water quality have appeared in Green
Lake in recent years. Colored oblique aerial photographs give
evidence of some of these conditions (Bumby 1972). These
photographs show opaque, discolored water entering the lake
through the Silver Creek inlet which carries both Ripon’s sewage
effluent and runoff from a low-lying real estate development, and
also at the opening of Quimby’s Bay (which has been deepened and
enlarged through dredging for real estate development). The
obvious mixing of seston in the water in the littoral zone by heavy
motorboat traffic is visible in another photo. But, the real evidence
of increasing eutrophication of the lake is found in the plants
including Cladophora sp. and other filamentous algae now growing

124

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

abundantly attached to rocks and macrophytes to 1.5 m depth in
spring' and early summer; two introduced species, Potamogeton
crispus and Myriophyllum spicatum, very prominent in the
submerged community; the decreased biomass of submerged
macrophytes; and the various blue-green algae floating on or near
the surface of the water in summer.

In the six years since the summer of 1971 several changes have
occurred. The Potamogeton species which were reported in 1921 but
not collected in 1971, have been identified (except for one) along
with previously unreported species in Green Lake. Concern for
water quality has risen over the effect of the body wastes of the
Canada geese which linger at Green Lake until late freeze-up date
in mid-January. This problem has been aggravated by the new
DNR policies enacted to make Horicon Marsh inhospitable to the
migrating geese. But perhaps recent changes to liberalize hunting
regulations will help. The three collective sewage systems in the
watershed area have made improvements. The ABA put into
operation a primary facility with an absorption pond for land
disposal of effluent to avoid discharge into Norwegian Bay. The
Green Lake City sewage system has been extended to some
lakeshore residents and a hotel, and is now planning the necessary
enlargement and modernization of its sewage plant. The City of
Ripon has in almost full operation its new modern activated sludge,
tertiary treatment system which will significantly change Silver
Creek and its environs. Fifteen Ripon College students completed
studies of the physical, chemical and biological parameters from
June 1972 to August 1974 paid by the federal government and by
the Green Lake Association. This latter organization of interested
volunteers pursues many issues and problems concerning the lake.
The Green Lake Sanitary District (established in 1964) is financing
a study which will produce a feasibility report on control of the
input of nutrients into the lake. The conversion of the sanitary
district into a lake district is an important issue before the Green
Lake County Board. Mechanical harvesting of nuisance weeds had
been studied and considered too expensive but some owners have
sprayed herbicides on the aquatic weeds and algae. This approach is
not inexpensive either and may have more detrimental effects than
now known, besides causing toxic reactions in unknowing
swimmers who enter these areas too soon after spraying. The
problems of the changes in water quality of Green Lake are
profoundly interwoven with human activity.

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971 125

METHODS

The sampling method used in this study was based as nearly as
possible on Rickett’s method so that data from the two studies could
be validly compared. Rickett (1924) chose 41 stations of which 38
were determined by shore characteristics and the three others were
marshy bays. At each station, aquatic plants were taken from three
depth zones: zone 1 (0-1 m), zone 2 (1-3 m), and zone 3 (3-10 m or
where plants cease to grow) and collections were taken in the
shallow zone first. A square frame of thin, heavy metal, 50 x 50 x 7
cm, was used to delineate a 0.25 m2 area of the bottom, and all large
algae and macrophytes (including roots) within the frame were
collected.

Actually, the pattern Rickett used for the collection of samples is
not clear. He stated that multiple samples were taken at stations in
zones 1 and 2, whereas, because the plants in zone 3 were more
homogeneous where bottom type and slope were similar, one
collection was often applied to several of these similar stations in
that zone. The number of 0.25 m2 samples collected averaged less
than three per station for all depth zones. Whatever the pattern of
sample collection used by Rickett, the weights were computed in g
per m2 for each species at the stations; see Tables 3, 4 and 5 of Rickett
(1924). I used the totals of these 1921 wet weights in choosing the
stations to be studied in 1971. No dates of collection of samples were
furnished in the 1921 study.

For this 1971 study, ten of Rickett’s 41 stations were selected in
each zone (depth) to include the five highest and the five lowest in
wet weight total values. Because of these criteria, it can be noted in
Fig. 2 that the ten stations compared over the 50 years for zone 1 are
not necessarily the same stations used for zones 2 or 3. The pattern
for the collection of the samples consisted of the following: in both
zones 1 and 2, samples were taken at three different anchorages
randomly located within the limits of each station, whereas in zone
3, one sample was randomly collected at each station. Wet weights
were tabulated, averaged (for zones 1 and 2) and then computed into
g/m2 for all species collected within each of the 10 stations at each of
the three zones. Thus, data of 1971 and 1921 can be satisfactorily
compared for the majority of the species; the problems involving the
species will be revealed below.

The 1971 collections in zone 1 were completed July 7-9; all 30
samples were taken within 0.5-1 .0 m depth, average 0.8 m. In zone 2,
the 30 samples were collected between 1. 4-2.6 m, average 2.1 m and

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

were taken from July 16-30. The 10 samples in zone 3 were collected
on August 7-8 in depths ranging from 3. 7-5.2 m, average 4.4 m.
Sometimes a clear line was observed at about 4.6 m beyond which
little or nothing grew on the bottom; Rickett reported no plants
after 8 m.

Labeled plastic bags separated each sample collected within a
quadrat and kept the plants fresh. Collected material was examined
and sorted the same day by placing the contents into a large, white
enamel pan filled with water. As much of the filamentous algae as
practicable was separated from the Chara sp. and other
macrophytes. After sorting and identifying the species of
macrophytes and filamentous algae (under 20 to 140x magnifica¬
tion), they were wrapped in absorbent, dry cloths to remove the
excess water, then unwrapped and weighed with a Dial-O-Gram
scale accurate to 0. 1 g. The weighed samples were separately placed
in labeled paper bags and dried at 70 C for 4-6 days. Rickett
estimated dry weights from the wet weights with a factor for
wetidry for each species.

Data for biomass of the filamentous algae over the 50 year period
are not comparable because in 1921 algal biomass was not
determined for each quadrat. Rickett wrote of the lack of
Cladophora sp. in Green Lake, contrasting this with the serious
algal problems in Lake Mendota at that time. He reported that in
Green Lake Cladophora sp. grew only as a fringe on a few of the
rocks at the edge of the water or a few inches below the surface in
some areas. Estimations of the biomass of the very few large patches
of Cladophora sp. then growing in Green Lake in zone 1 were
obtained with a different technique from the collection of plants in
quadrats; the perimeter of a patch was estimated by Rickett after
rowing a boat around it and, from the wet and dry weights directly
obtained from the algae collected in one of these patches, the
biomass of the other patches was approximated. Therefore, it was
not possible to satisfactorily compare these different areas and
weight measurements for Cladophora over this 50 year interval.

The total biomass collected in 1971 at each station and zone is
presented in two ways in this report; the biomass is given both with
and without the weights of the filamentous algae, mainly
Cladophora sp. Without the algae, the values are the basis for
comparison with Rickett’s data, while the inclusion of the algae
gives a clearer portrayal of the plant community in Green Lake
during the growing season of 1971.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

127

In 1971, the samples in zone 1 and 2 were taken by a diver using
snorkel, face mask and flippers. A SCUBA diver collected the
plants in zone 3, using a pressure sensor to determine the exact
depth at which the samples were taken. A “diver with a helmet” was
used by Rickett in the deepest zone.

Rickett wrote of the lumping of rare species with similar
macrophyte species because his study was a quantitive one.
Certainly, it is unfortunate that no voucher specimens from his
study could be located because verification of their identifications
would help answer several questions. Voucher specimens from the
1971 study are deposited in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee
herbarium. The nomenclature for various plant species is that of
Fassett (1960) as revised by Ogden (except for the species of
Myriophyllum and Ranunculus); algae were identified according to
Smith (1920), and the revised edition of Ward and Whipple
(Edmondson 1963) was used for the zooplankton.

RESULTS

The biomass of the individual species of submerged macrophytes
in 1921 and 1971 are discussed in sequence from the largest over-all
increase in wet weight to the largest decrease, followed by comment
on those plants which seemingly disappeared. References are made
to minor aquatic plants, to attached filamentous algae (according to
biomass), to plankton (according to presence), and to some physical
data.

This report gives the macrophytes found in Green Lake in 1971
and also in 1921, the macrophytes reported only in 1921, and the
macrophytes not found in 1971 but identified later from 1971 to
1974; 6 taxa of macrophytes are noted which either were not present
in 1921 or were possibly missidentified at that time. The basic data
for these comparisons of changes in biomass and species are
tabulated in the thesis (Bumby 1972) in Appendices A, B and C and
are summarized in its Tables 3, 4 and 5. Each species collected in
1971 is compared to the 1921 data according to their biomass (total
g/30 m2 for total zones or total g/10 m2 for any one zone) numerically
and in percentage (Bumby 1972), and here graphically (Figs. 3, 4, 5,
and 6).

The biomass of the algae is often indicated in the above data for
each macrophyte species at the zones as it is also for the changes in
the selected stations in each zone (Figs. 7A, 7B, 8A, 8B, 9A, 9B).

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

BIOMASS CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MACROPHYTES

Increases

The following taxa increased in wet weight biomass over the 50
year period in the selected stations. Approximations of biomass
compared are in total g/30 m2 with or without the inclusion of the
filamentous algal biomass. As the result of this study, the most
abundant species and the one with the largest increase in biomass is
Myriophyllum spicatum L. The species identified as M. ver-
ticillatum L. var. pectinatum Wallbr. by Rickett is no longer present
in the lake in any of the stations checked in 1971 (where it had been
abundant in 1921). Its place has been completely taken over by the
Eurasian invader, M. spicatum, with more than one-third increase
in biomass (Fig. 3). As mentioned before, no voucher specimens
from the 1921 study have been located so the specimens concerned
cannot be verified. Thus, it is possible that the species of the 1921
study may have been either incorrectly identified or may have
changed from a minor species (the same or a different minor
species) to a dominant one in the plant community today. In my
thesis, I designated this taxon as M. exalbescens Fernald, but it was
identified from voucher specimens as M. spicatum in November
1972 by F. M. Uhler of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center,
Laurel, Maryland.

Myriophyllum spicatum is the most important plant in Green
Lake today and this is not unusual for a hard water lake of 163 to 183
ppmCaC03 (Hasler 1967). Over the 50 year period, total wet weight
of the Myriophyllum taxon increased by 2,232 g. Its 1971 total wet
weight of 8,265 g represented 46% (56% dry weight) of the total
biomass in this comparative study (Bumby 1972). In 1921, Rickett
reported M. verticillatum L. var. pectinatum Wallbr. present in
Green Lake with a total wet weight of 6,033 g which was only 11.6%
(10% dry weight) of the total biomass at the selected stations.
Flowers and fruits were found on floating Myriophyllum on July 2,
1971 and, in September, more flowers and fruits were seen on both
floating and rooted plants in a sheltered area. During the summer
and fall of 1972 and 1973, no fertile plants were observed, but 1974
produced profuse growths of fertile plants.

The species showing the second largest increase in biomass is
Vallisneria americana Michx. whose wet weight was 1,785 g in
1971 in contrast to 214 g in 1921. In 1971, this wet weight was about
10% of the total biomass whereas 50 years ago, it was only 0.4%.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

129

Rickett listed V. spiralis L. as being present in Green Lake, but this
seems to be an error in identification; Fassett (1960) comments that
the latter species is European and the only species recorded in
North America is V. americana. Also, only V. americana has been

Algae

Ceratophyllum

demersum

Char a sp.

Elodea

canadensis

Heteranthera

dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis

Potamogeton

crispus

P. pectinatus

P. Richardsonii

P. zosteriformis p23

4200

8400

12,600 16,800 21,000

Ranunculus spp. p

Vallisneria
americana

Zannichellia

palustris

Other

P. amplifolius
P. foliosus

P. gramineus

1921 Ea*»*l and 1971

P. natans 33

Moss i

FIGURE 3. The total changes in wet weight biomass g/30m2 of each
species collected in the three zones in 1921 and 1971.

130

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

reported by Nichols and Mori (1971), Modlin (1970) and Belonger
(1969) whereas Rickett (1922) reported that it had the greatest
biomass in Lake Mendota in 1920.

Third in the series of those macrophytes showing increases is
Najasflexilis (Willd.) Rostk. and Schmidt, one of the three taxa in
Green Lake with true hydrophily. It increased in wet weight from
186 g (0.4% of total biomass) to 647 g in 1971 (3.6% of total biomass).

Ranking fourth in weight among taxa with increasing total
biomass was an early summer macrophyte which was not reported
in the 1921 study. Potamogeton crispus L. has a total wet weight of
180.4 g which was 1% of the total biomass in this study. Since it
disintegrates in early summer, its weight is probably undervalued.
The appearance of P. crispus, an important European invader, may
be of particular significance in judging the quality of lake waters
because it often appears in polluted water (Fassett 1960) and in
waters which have been enriched with city wastes (McCombie and
Wile 1971). On the other hand, Sculthorpe (1967) includes P. crispus
with the “almost truly cosmopolitan” submerged hydrophytes
which become easily established in the areas where native plants
are not well adapted. Its turion is the most highly specialized of all
the aquatic plants and these winter buds were often seen floating in
Green Lake during this study and have become increasingly evident
in the summers since 1971. Fertile plants were not noticed until
1974, when they were profuse. Since its introduction from Europe,
it has spread to the West Coast (Ogden 1943), and Moyle (1945)
reported this species in Minnesota about 1910; perhaps this plant
was in the lake in 1921 and was lumped in with another Potamogeton
species. Unfortunately, this taxon will probably become extremely
important in the plant community because of its abundant
vegetative reproduction.

Comparison of weights of Ranunculus longirostris Godron [ = R.
circinatus Sibth. (Fassett I960)] with weights of the Ranunculus sp.
reported in 1921, indicated the least gain in biomass, only 19 g. The
1921 Ranunculus sp. with 553 g wet weight, was 1 . 1% of the biomass;
the 1971 species, with 572 g wet weight, was 3.2% of the biomass. On
July 2, 1971, flowering specimens of the former species were
identified in the floral key of Muenscher (1944). Rickett had
reported the presence of R. aquatilis L. var. capillaceus D.C. (now
called R. trichophyllus Chaix., according to Fassett, 1960). The
species Rickett found was not collected in the present study.
However, both of these species have been reported in water bodies in
this area by Belonger (1969), Modlin (1970) and Nichols and Mori

1977]

Bum, by — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

131

(1971) who cite R. longirostris, while R. trichophyllus, reported by
Rickett, was listed by Lind and Cottam (1969). Interestingly,
Hotchkiss (1967) considers R. aquatilis and R. longirostris as the
“same”. As in the Myriophyllum situation, a complete replacement
by another species of the same genus over the 50 year period may
have occurred or there may have been an error in identification,
which cannot be resolved because no herbarium specimens of the
earlier collection are available.

Decreases

The following taxa showed declines in wet weight biomass at the
30 stations compared in 1921 and 1971. Often an increase in
percentage of the total biomass in 1971 will be evident which
reflects the decline in total biomass of that year, especially for those
species in the lower range of decreases. See Fig. 3.

Potamogeton Richardsonii (Benn.) Rybd. changed from 119 g in
1921 to 53 g in 1971. This taxon had the least decline in wet weight
biomass, although it constituted only 0.2% of the total biomass 50
years ago and 0.3% in 1971. This minor increase may reflect the
different total biomass values in these studies.

Second in the group of species with decreases is Heteranthera
dubia (Jacq.) MacM. which declined a total of 867 g and changed
from 1.8% of the 1921 total biomass to 0.5% in 1971.

Potamogeton zosteriformis Fernald decreased 1,234 g in wet
weight and changed from 2.5% of the total biomass in 1921 to only
0.4% in 1971. Perhaps indicative of its low status in eutrophic lakes
is its relative frequency of 0.12% in University Bay (Lind and
Cottam 1969) and 0.4% in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971).

Elodea canadensis (Michx.) Planchon [ = Anacharis canadensis
(Michx.) Planchon] changed from 2,380 g wet weight in 1921 when
it was 4.6% of the total biomass, to 952 g of wet weight and 5.3% of the
total biomass at the present time. McCombie and Wile (1971) found
that Elodea sp. was either absent or abundant, but always
associated with abundant Chara sp., in the clearer impoundments
with specific conductivities between 224 and 330 micromhos/cm2 at
18 C. Because Chara sp. also declined in the 1971 study (see below),
this study seems to support their observations of a relationship
between these two taxa.

Potamogeton pectinatus L. diminished 1,858 g in wet weight since
1921. Its biomass changed from 4% of the total biomass in 1921 to 1%
of the total biomass in 1971. The date of collection is important as

132

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

this is a late-maturing plant (Belonger 1969). Fertile plants were
common every year 1971-74 in Green Lake. Sculthorpe ( 1967) wrote
that P. pectinatus may grow in very polluted areas and is among the
“silt-loving species”. This seems contradictory in this study, since
silted and polluted conditions are a recent occurrence in this lake;
perhaps this plant is responding to other physical or chemical
environmental factors.

Zannichellia palustris L., one of the few macrophytes with true
hydrophily, was identified by its seeds on frail, otherwise barren
stems, collected in July and early August 1971. The biomass of this
early-summer plant would have been greater, if its leaves had been
present at the time of collections. During the time of the study, this
plant showed a decrease of 2,072 g in wet weight with a change from
2,083 g in 1921 (4% of the total biomass) to 11.4 g (0.06% of the total
biomass) in 1971. It was not reported by Modlin (1970), Belonger
(1969), Nichols and Mori (1971), Livingston and Bentley (1964) or
McCombie and Wile (1971). Lind and Cottam (1969) reported it in
University Bay in Lake Mendota with a relative frequency of 0.03%
and noted that it had not been reported previously in that area. It is a
very small plant which matures in early June and could be easily
overlooked if broken into small pieces.

Ceratophyllum demersum L., another common plant with
submerged hydrophilous flowers, diminished 8,834 g in wet weight
from 12, 190 g (23% of the total biomass) in 1921 to 3,356 g ( 19% of the
total biomass) in 1971.

Chara sp. showed the most dramatic decline from its peak
biomass 19,194 g (40% wet and 54% dry of the total biomass) in 1921
to 1,553 g (9% wet and 13% dry of the total biomass) in 1971. In 1971,
Nitella sp. was observed in Green Lake in very small quantities and
was not separated from Chara sp. Rickett reported the abundance
of Chara sp. in Green Lake; he found that it grew “ . . . almost
everywhere . . . sometimes mixed with other plants, often forming
great masses in which no other form can get a foothold.” He
contrasted its abundance in Green Lake with its paucity in Lake
Mendota which he had studied the summer before. The difference
he attributed to Lake Mendota’s muddier bottom and its warmer,
more turbid water. Recent documentation of the abundance of
Chara sp. has been reported by Modlin (1970) and Belonger (1969)
and the tolerance of it for wide ranges of CaC03 (4.2-118 ppm) can
be found in the work of Livingston and Bentley (1964). However,
environmental situations exist where no Chara sp. can be found, as
in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971), and where it is the taxon

1977]

Bumby - Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

133

with the lowest relative frequency of 0.01%, as in University Bay in
Lake Mendota (Lind and Cottam 1969). Thus, Chara sp., although
still present in Lake Mendota, is very limited (at least in University
Bay). It has declined in Green Lake, according to this study, from
about 50% to 10% of the total biomass over these 50 years and yet it is
still very successful in other lakes mentioned above. Can there be
chemical and/or physical parameters causing these two opposite
trends? Perhaps the increased erosion of the rich farmland in the
watershed area is changing Green Lake's bottom and its water
clarity to be more like Lake Mendota's of 1920.

Aquatic Plants Reported in 1921 But Not Collected in 1971

Four species of Potamogeton which occurred in Green Lake in
1921 were not found in the 1971 quadrat samples: P. amplifolius
Teckerm., P. foliosus Raf., P. gramineus L. and P. natans L.
However, P. natans and P. gramineus were found in other areas of
the lake during the 1971 study. P. amplifolius and P. foliosus were
not collected in quadrats nor observed elsewhere in the lake in 1971.
In Rickett’s study, these four species collectively represented a
small percentage (6.4%) of the total biomass. Further investigation
during 1972 through 1974 led to the verification of the presence of P.
amplifolius , P. nodosus Poir., and P. friessi Rupr. The narrow¬
leaved Potamogeton species (which resembles P. foliosus) was
determined by R. R. Haynes. No flowers were observed in 1971,
but, except for P. natans , fertile plants were found during
succeeding summers.

In 1921, P. amplifolius was relatively abundant at 3% of the total
biomass. Besides its apparent absence in 1971 in Green Lake, it also
was not reported in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971) or
University Bay of Lake Mendota, although it had been a common
species in 1922 (Lind and Cottam 1969). Documentation of its
abundance in other areas are given by Modlin (1970) and Belonger
(1969). In 19 impoundments in Ontario, this aquatic plant was found
only in the least fertile impoundment with the lowest conductivity
and with Secchi disc reading of 2.2 m (McCombie and Wile 1971).
Presently in Green Lake, it does grow in beds between stations 28
and 25 (Fig. 2).

Although present in Green Lake in 1971, P. gramineus was not
recorded in any of the quadrats; its special floating leaves and
flowers were not observed in 1971 nor during the years since. This
species comprised 1.1% of the total biomass in 1921.

134

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

P. natans made up 1.2% of the total biomass in 1921. Although
seen in the lake in 1971, it was not collected in any of the quadrats.
No flowers were seen in the years since, but its floating leaves have
been observed.

P. foliosus had a wet weight of 363 g or 0.7% of the biomass in the
collections of 1921. In 1971, this species was not found in the
quadrats nor through casual sampling in the years since but a
similar plant (P. friessi) was verified in 1972 and 1973.

Minor Aquatic Plants

Several aquatics such as a moss and species of Lemna were
observed in 1971 but not in sufficient quantities for adequate
comparisons (Table 3 of Bumby 1972).

In 1921, these plants comprised 0.4% of the total biomass. Rickett
stated that a diver could sink up to his knees into beds of the moss
Drepanocladus sp., quite abundant in zones 2 and 3. Only one of the
selected stations sampled in 1971 had mosses in 1921; thus, these
plants occur but in sparse distribution.

Lemna minor L. and L. trisulca L. were found in the lake, the
latter only in very small numbers in Dartford Bay quadrats (station
40) where this tiny flowering plant was entangled with algae and
macrophytes growing on the bottom.

Neither the aquatic moss nor Lemna sp. was present in sufficient
numbers to be compared with Rickett’s results or listed except as
minute amounts or traces (X) in the figures and tables (Bumby
1972).

The Algae

Attached algae collected in Green Lake in 1921 and collected in
1971 were: Cladophora sp., Nostoc sp., Rhizoclonium sp., Rivularia
sp., Spirogyra sp., Tolypothrix sp., Ulothrix sp., Zygnema sp.
Vaucheria tuber osa (?) was not collected in 1971.

Although this study is mainly concerned with macrophytes, some
observations of the algae were made in 1971 because they are
significant in interpreting the changes in biomass in Green Lake.
Massive nuisance blooms of Cladophora sp. have appeared in Green
Lake in recent years; these growths often extend from the waterline
down to a depth of 1.5 m in rocky areas. No Cladophora problem
existed in 1921 and Rickett used a different technique for
estimation of the algal biomass. Rickett noted that sometimes

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

135

Oedogonium sp. replaced Cladophora sp. in the muddier stations
and Spirogyra sp. also grew on the plants and rocks.

In 1971, most of the algae were of the filamentous type and only a
cursory microscope examination of each sample collected in a
quadrat was made to identify the conspicuous genera. The weights
of the algae which were collected in the quadrats in each zone are on
record in Table 3 (Bumby 1972) and the weights at each station are
in Appendices A, B and C (Bumby 1972); weights of non-
filamentous algae (as Rivularia sp. and Nostoc sp.) are not included,
unless found attached to the macrophytic plants in all zones, and not
separated from these plants when they were weighed.

Algae listed above were attached either to the macrophytes or to
the rocks under shallow water. In zone 1, 24 of the 60 samples
contained filamentous algae; in zone 2, 33 of the 60 samples; while in
zone 3, only 2 out of 10 samples (actually 2 in 8, as two samples were
devoid of plants) contained weighable quantities of filamentous
algae. Their occurrence in zone 1 (from the highest to the lowest
frequency) are Cladophora sp., Rhizoclonium sp., and Spirogyra
sp., whereas in zone 2, Cladophora sp. was most abundant followed
by Rhizoclonium sp., Zygnemasp., Rivulariasp. and Tolypothrix sp.
In zone 3, Rhizoclonium sp. and Rivularia sp. were present but
sparse.

In recent years, a massive floating bloom of Spirogyra sp. has
been an unsightly covering of the lake along the shore but only on
calm days in the very early spring. Vaucheria tuberosa (?) was listed
at one station in 1921, but was not observed in the present study. The
attached filamentous algae were extremely important among the
autotrophs in Green Lake in 1971 and will be discussed further with
the macrophytic biomass changes within the zones and stations.

CHANGES IN THE PERCENTAGE OF WATER TO
DRY CONTENT FOR EACH SPECIES

The dry weight comparison for each species found in 1921 and
197 1 are listed in Table 1 as percentages of wet weights. E ight of the
12 macrophytes with comparable data were almost at the same level
of water content in both studies. For that reason I have used wet
weights in most of these comparisons but dry weights are shown in
the graphs (Figs. 7, 8 and 9) and data are in the thesis (Bumby 1972).
Comparing dry weights of the taxa eliminates the weight
variability accumulated because of the differences in both water
adhering to the outside of freshly sampled plants (due to the

136

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

TABLE 1. PERCENTAGE DRY WEIGHT IN EACH SPECIES
FOR ALL ZONES IN 1921 AND 1971

Species Found in 1921 & 1971

% Dry Wt.
1921

% Dry Wt.

1971

Algae

18.22

Ceratophyllum demersum

7.02

8.50

Char a sp.

15.08

20.12

Elodea canadensis

4.4

13.07

Heteranthera dubia

10.56

9.28

Myriophyllum spicatum

M. verticillatum var.
pectinatum

9.63

16.44

Najas flexilis

9.93

10.05

Potamogeton crispus

7.97

P. pectinatus

12.21

12.50

P. Richardsonii

14.64

19.35

P. zosteriformis

12.41

14.10

Ranunculus longirostris

R. aquatilis var. Capillaceus

11.69

13.35

Vallisneria americana

7.71

6.49

Zannichellia palustris

6.96

7.10

Other

14.35

P. amplifolius

11.9

P. foliosus

10.55

P. gramineus

11.5

P. natans

11.43

Moss

Lemna Sp.

19.49

5.71

With Algae:

Without Algae

11.19

15.06 ± 4.65 S. D.
13.58 ± 4.52 S. D.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

137

differences in leaf forms, etc.) and in the water content within the
structurally different cells of the plants (Sculthorpe 1967).

Every species in each sample collected in 1971 was weighed both
wet and dry. In contrast, Rickett dried about 12 samples of a species,
averaged the dry weights as a percentage of the wet weights and
then used these averages for estimating dry weights of these
samples. The macrophytes in 1921 had an average dry weight
percentage of 11.2; the 1971 average dry weight was 13.6% ±4.52%
S.D. The minor differences in the 1971 and 1921 dry weights may
be due to an increase in epiphytic algae and other organisms
clinging to the macrophytes, to an increase in the settling out of
particulate matter from the water, to an increase in the accuracy of
the equipment and to the differences in the technique for
determining dry weights in the two studies. The latter does not
permit a comparison of the significance of the changes in dry
weights because there is no way of estimating the within-sample
variance of Rjckett’s data.

Although no great change in the total percentage of dry weight of
the aquatic plants in Green Lake occurred over this 50 year period,
some significant variations appeared among the individual species.
Elodea canadensis indicates a three fold increase over the 1921
percentage dry weight; however, its 1921 percentage of 4.4 seems
unusually low. What may be two Myriophyllum species (as
identified in 1921 vs. 1971) have a substantial difference almost
twice what was reported in the earlier survey and Chara sp. showed
a 25% increase in 1971 weight data. Macrophytes with almost the
same dry content in both studies are as follows: C. demersum, H.
dubia, N. flexilis, P. pectinatus, P. zoster if or mis, Ranunculus spp.,
V. americana and Z. palustris.

BIOMASS CHANGES IN THE ZONES

Previously, I discussed changes of the individual taxa in total
biomass (Fig. 3); next the changes in the individual macrophyte
species collected in each zone in 1921 and 1971 as wet weights in
grams are shown graphically in Figs. 4, 5 and 6. These are based on
the numerical total wet weights (g/10 m2) which are listed for each
zone in Table 3 (Bumby 1972).

In zone 1 (Fig. 4), a shift of dominance occurred from Chara sp.
and Ceratophyllum demersum to Chara sp. and V. americana.
Altogether, 14 species were found in zone 1 in 1921 with wet weights
ranging from 2,520 to 44 g, whereas 13 species were present in 1971

138

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

with wet weight ranging only 614 to 3.3 g. The total biomass of
macrophytes of this shallow zone in 1971 was only about one-third
that in 1921. The filamentous algae were the most important
autotrophs in this zone in 1971.

0

Algae t

Ceratophyllum T

demersum -

Char a sp.

Elodea

Canadensis

Heteranthera

dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis >

Potamogeton
crispus 1

P. pectinatus r

P. Richardsonii ?

P. zosteriformis

Ranunculus spp.

i

Vallisneria

americana

Zannichellia

palustris

Other

P. amplifolius
P. foliosus

P. gramineus
P. natans

23

■if I

1400

2800 4200 5600 7000

I_ i_ I_ I

1921 l*»***l

and 1971

Moss

FIGURE 4. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 1 in 1921
and 1971

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

139

The 17 species found in 1921 in zone 2 (Fig. 5), varied in wet
weights from 12,974 to 7.0 g whereas the 15 species present in 1971
varied from 4,543.2 g to a trace (X). This involved an obvious shift

2600

5200

7800

10,400 13,000

Algae

Ceratophyllum
demersum

Char a sp.

Elodea
canadensis

Heteranthera
dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis

Potamogeton
crispus

P. pectinatus
P. Richardsonii
P. zosteriformis

Ranunculus spp.

Vallisneria
americana

Zannichellia
palustris

Other

P. amplifolius

P. foliosus
P. gramineus

P. natans
Moss

FIGURE 5. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 2 in 1921
and 1971

F

1921 SUM and 1971

140

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

from Chara sp. to Myriophyllum and Vallisneria dominance at
zone 2 during the 50 year period.

Of the 13 taxa found in zone 3 (Fig. 6) 50 years ago, the wet
weights ranged down from 10,815 g. Although 11 of the 13 species

FIGURE 6. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 3 in 1921
and 1971

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

141

were present in 1971, their 3,370 g wet weights showed a reduction
of about two-thirds in zone 3 and a shift of dominance from
Ceratophyllum demersum and Char a sp. to M. spicatum and C.
demersum.

The change in the diversity of the macrophytes is not clear
because of the four Potamogeton species not found in the quadrats in
1971; it cannot be stated, then, that they moved to another zone or
that they disappeared from the lake. These include Potamogeton
amplifolius, P. foliosus, P. gramineus and P. natans which were
present in all zones in 1921 except for P. natans (not reported in zone
3 by Rickett). In 1971, Zannichellia palustris, Elodea canadensis
and P. crispus seem to be newcomers in zone 1; P. crispus and a trace
of Lemna trisulca were observed in zone 2, and in zone 3, P. crispus
was the only new plant which grew here if the changes in
identification of both the Myriophyllum genus and the Ranunculus
genus are agreeable and P. crispus was not lumped in with another
similar species in 1921.

The total wet weight biomass in zones 1 and 3 diminished
percentagewise in almost the same relationship (-73% and -74%),
while in zone 2 it decreased the least (-53%). When attached
filamentous algae were included, there is a gain in biomass in zone 1
(+16%) but still loss for both zones 2 (-48%) and zone 3 (-72%). The
zone 3 figure reflects the relatively low total of algae in the deepest
zone, while the zone 1 figure reflects the higher total weights of the
algae there (Table 7 of Bumby 1972).

CHANGES IN TOTAL BIOMASS AMONG THE SELECTED

STATIONS

Figures 7A, 8A, and 9A represent graphically the wet and dry
weights of the submerged macrophytes present in 1921 and 1971 at
each station within the separate zones. The station numbers are
arranged according to the decreasing values of the total wet weights
ing/10m2oftheplants tabulated by Rickett in 1921. Figures 7B, 8B
and 9B include the wet and dry weights of the attached filamentous
algae which were recorded in the 1971 study along with the weight
of the macrophytes. These graphs are based on the data in Bumby
(1972) Appendices A, B and C. The recent and past situations at
these stations are quantitatively presented for the macrophytes and
for the biomass of the algae in 1971 (by weight) which can be seen
when any station in B is compared with the same station in A.

142 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Stations

FIGURE 7A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weights
collected at the ten stations in zone 1 in 1921 and 1971

FIGURE 8A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weight
collected at the ten stations in zone 2 in 1921 and 1971

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971 143

FIGURE 9A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weights
collected at the ten stations in zone 3 in 1921 and 1971

FIGURE 7B. Zone 1 with algae included in 1971 quantities

144

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Stations

FIGURE 8B. Zone 2 with algae included in 1971 quantities

FIGURE 9R. Zone 3 with algae included in 1971 quantities

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

145

From these data, it appears that a comparison of the wet weight
biomass at the low weight stations at three zones in 1971 and 1921
showed no specific pattern of change; i.e., some stations increased
and some decreased. However, the high weight stations at all three
zones showed a definite pattern of decrease in the wet weight
biomass. The numerical decreases in total macrophyte biomass
occurred at all 1921 high weight stations at every depth in the order:
zone 1 least, zone 2 next, and zone 3 largest total decrease. At zone 3,
stations 34 and 13 were devoid of vegetation and station 38 only had
3.2 g; the first two are located at areas where sewage effluent enters
the lake (Fig. 2). This trend continues even when the weight of the
attached filamentous algae is included in the biomass. Thus, it
appears that the missing nutrients accompanying the reduction in
macrophytic biomass have not been entirely incorporated into the
attached filamentous algae growing in the littoral zone. This
suggests that most of the nutrients may be accounted for in other
biota, and the abundance of the phytoplankton (especially blue-
green algae) observed in the summer of 1971 seems to corroborate
this possibility. Although this work is chiefly on submerged
macrophytes, some obervations were made on the plankton in ten
water samples collected from three stations different from those
used for the macrophytes (see Fig. 1). Many blue-green algae were
found on or near the surface waters of the lake in 1971 including
Microcystis aeruginosa , Anabaena flos-aquae , Aphanizonemonflos-
aquae and Gloeotrichia echinulata; these were present in 50% to 70%
of the samples. Diversified populations of diatoms, green algae and
zooplankton were also present, too. (Bumby 1972).

THE PHYSICAL DATA

Secchi disc readings of Green Lake water taken in this 1971 study
and by Lueschow et al. ( 1970) place this water body within the range
of eutrophic Great Lakes such as Ontatio and Erie, according to
Beeton (1965). However, there seems to be no change in light
transmission, since Ju day’s 1942 study. The clinograde dissolved
oxygen curve is well above the minimum levels for life in 1971 and
also in the 1966 study by Hasler (1967).

DISCUSSION

Biological evidence, such as the decrease in the biomass of the
macrophytes which this study shows, is more indicative of changes

146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

in the quality of the water in Green Lake than are the physical data
collected in 1971. The 1971 stations devoid of vegetation at zone 3
(stations 34 and 13) and one with only 3.2 g (station 38) could reflect
effect of sewage; this situation may be more prevalent in other areas
of the lake not included in this study. (Fig. 2). The macrophyte
change, the increase in the seston and the assumed but un¬
documented increase in phytoplankton are probably more in¬
dicative of change in light intensity in the littoral area than shown
by the light penetration data, obtained only at Deep Station (Fig. 1).
Macrophytes are greatly affected by the intensity and quality of
light which are determined by turbidity, the color and . . the
absorptive effect of the water itself' (Reid 1961).

The overall lower biomass, found in 1971 as compared with 1921,
could be due in part to the shift in species composition. The
magnitude of the decrease of the eight species which declined was
simply much greater than the increase of the five species which
increased in total biomass (Table 3 of Bumby 1972). The 1921
average percentage of dry weight was not an important difference
to cause the lower biomass in this study (Table 1). Other studies have
shown little change in the frequency of plants through a summer
(Swindale and Curtis 1957), but the weights of the different species
of plants can vary during a summer; viz., Zannichellia palustris
and Potamogeton crispus mature early in the summer, while
Vallisneria americana matures late in the summer. However, the
similarity of collection times and techniques between Rickett’s and
the present study should rule out this problem. Belonger (1969)
cited Dane’s report of 1959 which showed that over a three year
period, there was a definite change in aquatic plant distribution in
New York ponds; thus, “. . . Appreciable changes can occur over
relatively short periods.” Consequently, the fact of analyzing only
one summer for the approximations for both the 1921 and 1971
studies cannot be ignored.

Volker and Smith (1965) listed several of these factors pertinent
to Green Lake in their study of a decrease in number and frequency
of species of aquatic flora in Lake East Okoboji over a 46 year
period. Increased human activity in and around its shores altered
several factors believed to be responsible for the change. Factors
which may be responsible for reduced vegetation are as follows;
first, the increased nutrients in the lakes from agricultural
fertilizers and increased sewage effluent from the increased
population in the area; and, second, the increased siltation and
turbidity due to real estate development in low areas, inlet waters

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

147

and motorboat activity. Sculthorpe (1967) quoted Southgate (1957)
that low concentrations of anionic detergents in most treated
sewage effluents of that period, can be deleterious to some
hydrophytes. Edmondson (1968, p. 165) points out that . . even
drainage from fertilized fields is less rich than sewage effluent . . .”
and that “. . . moderately hard- water lakes are probably more
sensitive to sewage enrichment than soft-water lakes, all other
things being equal.”

The other school of thought is presented by Lind and Cottam
(1969) who hypothesize that, because of human activity and natural
aging, lakes become rich in nutrients with consequent tremendous
increases in algae and macrophytes. This latter view does not
explain the 1971 decline in Green Lake macrophytes in all zones and
especially in the deepest zone. When the filamentous algae are
included, an increase in biomass is evident in the shallow zone as
measured in early summer; later, as the water warms, these
autotrophs disappear. Perhaps the nutrients no longer in the
macrophytes moved into the phytoplankton of the lake in 1971; more
quantitative investigations in this area would be helpful.

The decrease in the aquatic macrophytes in Green Lake could be
followed by blooms of phytoplankton, according to Mulligan (1969)
who cited the 1903 report of Kofoid that algae blooms did not occur
in a lake with large growths of benthic plants. Mulligan also wrote
of Pond’s (1905) observation that floating aquatic macroflora and
phytoplankton competed for the same nutrients. Thus, the decrease
in biomass of Chara sp. and Ceratophyllum demersum (both without
root systems) could reflect increase in the phytoplankton with their
competitive advantage of higher nutrient loading rates. However,
other plants with root systems have diminished also, according to
this study, so other factors are undoubtedly involved. The decline of
Chara sp. in Green Lake may have a very significant effect on the
lake because Schuette and Adler (1929) pointed out that this alga,
which made up about half of the macrophytes found in Rickett’s
entire study, can cause deposition of almost 1000 metric tons of
CaC03 .

In early studies, Marsh (1898) noted there was never any large
amount of “vegetable matter” in Green Lake. An Anabaena sp.
usually appeared over the entire lake in July and August for a short
time but was never enough to form a “scum” except in 1896, when an
Anabaena sp. appeared in late June and lasted into August. Marsh
also noted that diatoms were always abundant. Juday (1942)
computed that the estimated standing crop of plankton in Green

148

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Lake was 2944 kg/ha wet weight, which was one-third larger than
in Lake Mendota. Green Lake is much deeper and the clarity of the
summer water permitted the zone of photosynthesis to reach a
depth of about 15 m.

From the present study, it appears that additional seston in the
water of the littoral zone (originating from the inlet water, sheet
runoff from rich farm land and from real estate development in low
areas, motorboat activity and probably additional phytoplankton)
has changed the penetration of light so that macrophytes, especially
in the deepest littoral zone, have been significantly reduced. A
change in the dominance of Chara sp. may be particularly
significant to the total biomass results in 1971. Also, aggressive
weedy species of foreign origin, e.g., Potamogeton crispus and
Myriophyllum spicatum which are successful in polluted water,
have moved into the aquatic community.

Perhaps Green Lake, so different from Lake Mendota in 1921
(Rickett 1924), is approaching the Mendota status of 50 years ago
with Chara sp. less important, Vallisneria americana increasing in
abundance, Cladophora sp. becoming dominant in the shallow zone
among the autotrophs, and the seston in the water becoming a more
important factor.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author wishes to give appreciation and deepest thanks to the
following persons and institutions: Dr. P. B. Whitford of Universi¬
ty of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (UW-M) for suggestions and critical
reading of the manuscript; Dr. Everett J . Fee for his guidance and
assistance with the field work, taxonomy, identification of
phytoplankton, critical reading of the manuscript and for the loan
of equipment from the Center of Great Lakes Study; Dr. Charles
Nichols of Ripon College for loan of equipment and use of College
facilities; Dr. P. J. Salamun of UW-M for loan of equipment and
critical reading of manuscript; Dr. A. M. Beeton of UW-M for
critical reading of the manuscript; Margaret Summerfield for
assistance with field work and taxonomy and also for collecting
specimens for the UW-M herbarium; Dr. Scott Mori, F. M. Uhler
and Dr. R. R. Haynes for determination of several aquatic
macrophyte species; Dr. John E. Gannon for identification of
zooplankton; the late Dr. Richard P. Howmiller for titrating the
dissolved oxygen samples; Dr. Larry Claflin for the quantitative
phytoplankton work; E. Curtis Rogers for SCUBA assistance with

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

149

field work; Philip R. Haensgen whose able piloting resulted in the
aerial photographs used in thesis; Dr. Larry Miller for the use of his
depth finder; E . B. Boston and Arthur Carter for the use of their
motorboats.

The author especially wishes to extend her appreciation to her
parents — the late Mr. and Mrs. J. Harold Bumby — who helped
this study in innumerable ways.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Beeton, A. M. 1965. Eutrophication of the St. Lawrence Great Lakes.
Limnol. Oceanogr. 10:240-54.

Belonger, B . J. 1969. Aquatic plant survey of major lakes in the Fox River
(Illinois) watershed. Research Rpt. No. 39. Wis. Dept. Nat. resources.

Bumby, M. J. 1972. Changes in Submerged Macrophytes in Green Lake,
Wisconsin from 1921 to 1971. Unpublished MS thesis. University of
Wisconsin-Milwaukee. 114 pp.

Dane, C . W. 1959. Succession of aquatic plants in small artificial marshes
in New York State. N. Y. Fish, Game Jour. 1:57-76.

Edmondson, W. T., ed. 1963. Ward and Whipple's Fresh Water Biology.
2nd Edition. J. Wiley and Sons, N. Y. 1248 pp.

Edmondson, W. T. 1968. Water-quality management and lake eutrophica¬
tion: The Lake Washington case. Water Resources Management and
Public Policy. Seattle: Univ. Wash. Press, pp. 139-178.

Fassett, N. C. 1960. A Manual of Aquatic Plants. Univ. Wis. Press.
Madison. 405 pp.

Hasler, A . D. 1967. Biological aspects of eutrophication in Wisconsin lakes
Mendota, Crystal, Trout and Green. Progress Rept. No. 4. Lab. of Limnol.
Mimeo. 27 pp.

Hotchkiss, N. 1967. Underwater and floating-leaved plants of the United
States and Canada. No. 44. Pub. Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife.
U.S. Govt. Printing Office, Wash. D.C. 124 pp.

Juday, C. 1914. The inland lakes of Wisconsin, II. The hydrography and
morphology of the lakes. Bull. No. 27, Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Surv.
Madison, 137 pp.

150

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Juday, C. 1942. The summer standing crop of plants and animals in four
Wisconsin lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 34:103-135.

Lind, C. T. and G. Cottam. 1969. The submerged aquatics in University
Bay: A study of eutrophication. Am. Midi. Nat. 81:353-369.

Livingston, R. B., and P. A. Bentley. 1964. The role of aquatic vascular
plants in the eutrophic selected lakes in Western Massachusetts. Water
Resources Research Center. U. Mass. 80 pp.

Lueschow, L. A., J. M. Helm, D. R. Winter, and G. W. Karl. 1970.
Trophic nature of selected Wisconsin lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts,
Lett. 58:237-264.

Marsh, C. D. 1898. On the limnetic Crustacea of Green Lake. Trans. Wis.
Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 11:179-224.

Marsh, C . D. and E . F . Chandler. 1898. Hydrographic Map of Green Lake,
Green Lake County, Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. and Nat. Hist. Survey.

Marter, J. H., and R. N. Cheetham, Jr. 1971. A real measurement and
nomenclature of watersheds in the southeastern Wisconsin rivers basin.
Ref. Rept. No. 10. U.S. Dept, of Agri. 78 pp.

McCombie, A . M., and I . Wile. 1971. Ecology of aquatic vascular plants in
southern Ontario impoundments. Weed Sci. 19:225-228.

Modlin, R. F. 1970. Aquatic plant survey of Milwaukee River watershed
lakes. Res. Rept. No. 52. Wis. Dept. Nat. Resources. 45 pp.

Moyle, J. B. 1945. Some chemical factors influencing the distribution of
aquatic plants in Minnesota. Am. Midi. Nat. 34:402-420.

Muenscher, W. C. 1944. Aquatic Plants of the United States. Comstock
Publ., Cornell Univ., Ithaca, N. Y. 374 pp.

Mulligan, H. F. 1969. Management of aquatic vascular plants and algae.
Eutrophication: Causes, Consequences, Correctives. Nat’l Acad, of Sci.,
Washington, D.C. 661 pp.

Nichols, S. A., and S. Mori. 1971. The littoral macrophyte vegetation of
Lake Wingra. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 59:107-119.

Ogden. E. C. 1943. The broad-leaved species of Potamogeton of North
America, north of Mexico. Rhodora 45:57-105.

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Pietenpol, W. B. 1918. Selective absorption in the visible spectrum of
Wisconsin lake waters. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 19:562-593.

Pond, R. H. 1905. The relation of aquatic plants to the substratum. Rep.
U.S. Fish. Comm. 19:483-526.

Reid, G. K. 1961. Ecology of Inland Waters and Estuaries. Van Nostrand
Reinhold Co., N. Y. 375 pp.

Rickett, W. H. 1922. A quantitative study of the larger aquatic plants of
Lake Mendota. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 20:501-527.

Rickett, W. H. 1924. A quantitative study of the larger aquatic plants of
Green Lake, Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 21:381-414.

Schuette, H . A., and H . Adler. 1929. A note on the chemical composition of
Chara from Green Lake, Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett.
24:141-145.

Sculthorpe, C. D. 1967. The Biology of Aquatic Vascular Plants. Edward
Arnold Ltd. London. 610 pp.

Smith, G. M. 1920. The phytoplankton of the inland lakes of Wisconsin.
Part I. Myxophyceae, Phaeophyceae, Heterokonteae, and Chlorophyceae
exclusive of the Desmidaceae. Bull. No. 57 Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Surv.
Madison, Wis. 243 pp.

Swindale, D. N., and J. T. Curtis. 1957. Phytosociology of the larger
submerged plants in Wisconsin lakes. Ecology 38:397-407.

Volker, R., and S . G . Smith. 1965. Changes in the aquatic vascular flora in
Lake East Okoboji in historic times. Proc. Iowa Acad. Sci. 72:65-72.

PHOTOSYNTHESIS OF THE SUBMERGENT
MACROPHYTE CERATOPHYLLUM DEMERSUM
IN LAKE WINGRA

Piero Guilizzoni
Pallanza (Novara) Italy

ABSTRACT

Apparent photosynthesis of Ceratophyllum demersum was
measured in fall 1975 by a 14C technique for a preliminary
evaluation of its productivity. Productivity decline with depth was
correlated with diminishing irradiance; laboratory studies in¬
dicate, however, that the decline in productivity was also controlled
by increasing tissue age and reduction in leaf/stem ratio. The
saturated photosynthetic rate of 2.3 mg C-g-1 (dry weight) -hr-1 for
C. demersum was attained at 650-700 pE m-^sec-1 at a water
temperature of 21 C.

INTRODUCTION

A number of studies (Wetzel, 1975) show that primary productivi¬
ty of macrophytes can be an important parameter in aquatic
ecosystems. Most lakes are small and shallow (Wetzel and Allen,
1972) with a well-defined littoral zone colonized by aquatic plants
which effect fixation, utilization and transformation of energy.
Macrophytic communities are often more productive than
phytoplankton (Westlake, 1965). Submersed macrophytes may
provide the greatest single input to the benthic carbon budget (Rich
et a/., 1971).

Lake Wingra is a small, eutrophic, alkaline lake within the city
limits of Madison, Wisconsin. Ceratophyllum demersum , in Lake
Wingra, grows in scattered patches anchored in the soft sediment
within the Myriophyllum spicatum community which dominates
the littoral zone (Nichols and Mori, 1971). Although of secondary
importance to M. spicatum in Lake Wingra, C. demersum
dominates the submersed aquatic vegetation in several southern
Wisconsin impoundments.

I conducted experiments under laboratory conditions and “in
situ” using a carbon-14 technique to obtain measurements of
photosynthetic rates of shoot sections and to examine factors
influencing differences in these rates. Meyer (1939) studied the

152

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

153

daily cycle of apparent photosynthesis of C. demersum and found a
correlation with the daily curve for solar radiation. Effects of
turbidity and depth on photosynthesis have been investigated by
Meyer and Heritage (1941), while Carr (1969a) has given more
attention to light intensity, light quality and water flow. She found
that production of C. demersum increased with current of the water
up to 0.54 cm- sec-1. Carbon source, pH, temperature and effect of
nitrogen supply on photosynthesis of C. demersum also influence
photosynthesis (Carr, 1969b; Goulder, 1970; Goulder and Boatman,
1971). Depth distribution of photosythetic tissue, and light
adaptation affect the total photosynthetic productivity in
Myriophyllum spicatum (Adams et al ., 1974). I have considered the
photosynthetic response to light and depth distribution of biomass
with the other important factors controlled. These data for Lake
Wingra allow a preliminary comparison between C. demersum and
the littoral dominant M. spicatum characterized by Adams and co¬
workers (Adams et al ., 1974).

MATERIALS AND METHODS

Field studies

Photosynthesis of Ceratophyllum demersum within the
Myriophyllum spicatum community.

a. Natural Photosynthesis Profile. Shoots grown in 2 m water
depth were collected the morning of September 11, 1975, cut into
15-30 cm sections of 0.25-0.82 g dry weight, and incubated in 510 ml
glass bottles at their natural depth. Bottles were filled with lake
water to which 2 ml of 14C-NaHC03 (specific activity of 1.5 p
Ci-ml-1) were added. Period of incubation was 1 hr. Two dark
bottles were also employed. At the end of each incubation the plants
were briefly rinsed in 0. 1 N HC 1 to remove any 14C-monocarbonates
precipitated on the leaf surfaces during the experiment. Then they
were quickly frozen in liquid nitrogen to stop photosynthesis.

The plant samples were returned to the laboratory, lyophilyzed,
dried for two days, and weighed. Leaves and stems of each section
were isolated and analyzed separately. The dried samples were
ground to powder and 10 mg subsamples were wrapped in ashless
filter paper (Whatman #40) and combusted in oxygen in a chamber
described by Adams et al. (1974). Evolved 14C-C02 was trapped in 5
ml of ethanolamine, an aliquot (0.2 ml) of which was pipetted into a

154

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

modified Bray’s solution (Bray, 1960) and counted in a Packard Tri-
Carb scintillation counter. Water samples were titrated to
determine total alkalinity, as mg.CaC03 l-1 (Am. Public Health
Assoc., 1965). From the alkalinity, pH and temperature, total
carbon was calculated from the table of conversion coefficients of
Saunders, et al. ( 1962). Photosynthetic rates were expressed as mg C
per g dry weight of plant per hour and were calculated from the 14C
data with an isotope correction factor of 1.06, with correction for
dark fixation of carbon.

Net irradiance during the experiment was measured with a
recording pyranometer (Belfort) and the photosynthetically active
radiation (PhAR) with a Lambda Quantum-sensor LI-170; the
results are expressed as langleys-min-1 (= cal-cm-^min-1) and juE
m-^sec-1, respectively.

b. Terminal portions (20 cm) from shoots collected near the
bottom (water depth of 1.60 m) were used. Following the same 14C
procedure, the growing tips were incubated on the afternoon of
October 3, 1975 at four depths within the water column (subsurface,
0.5, 1.0 and 1.60 m). Plant material varied between 0.3-0. 6 g dry
weight. This experiment was designed to isolate the effects of light
and temperature on photosynthesis, holding other factors relatively
constant.

Laboratory studies

a. Photosynthesis profile of Ceratophyllum demersum exposed to
constant light and at a water temperature of 25C.

C. demersum was collected on August 25, 1975. Whole plants were
placed in a 4.5 1 Plexiglas cylinder chamber and incubated for 1 hr.
in lake water previously filtered through a glass fiber filter paper
(Whatman GFC) to which 20 ml (30 \i Ci) of 14C-NaHC03 were
added. C. demersum was exposed at saturating light intensity from
a Lucalox lamp; a current flow of 2 1 -min-1 ensured adequate
mixing of 14C solution and uniform temperature within the
chamber. After the exposure periods, the entire plants were
removed and cut into 10 cm sections. Carbon-14 distribution in
different plant sections was determined by the same procedure
described previously.

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

155

b. Photosynthesis-light intensity curve of growing tips.

Apical portions of shoots of C. demersum were collected on
September 18, 1975. For each of seven different light intensities,
three replicates were incubated the next morning in filtered lake
water; again, measurements were made in 1 hr. periods. Two ml
(3.0 f± Ci) of 14C-NaHC03 were added to each 510 ml glass bottle.
Dark bottles were also incubated in the course of this experiment.
Temperature was controlled at 21 ± 1 C (temperature of lake water
at that time) by placing bottles in a water bath. Temperature, and
initial and final pH, were recorded every time.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

The natural photosynthesis profile of Ceratophyllum demersum
“rooted” in 2 m of water, is shown in Fig. 1 . Temperature and Ph AR
at incubation depth, percent of total plant photosynthesis and
percent of total plant weight are shown for each stem section.
Average surface irradiance during the incubation period was 0.28
ly-min-1. Temperature decreased negligibly from the surface to the
bottom (20.3-19.7). The first stem section (growing tips) had a
photosynthetic rate of 3.40 mg C-g dry wt-1- hr-1 expressed on total
weight basis, well above the value of 1.06 mg C- g-^hr-1 for C.
demersum from Conneaut Lake (Western Pennsylvania) on 2
September presented by Wetzel (1965). The rate declined quickly to
zero with increasing depth in association with rapidly attenuated
light and gradually increasing stem/leaf ratio and tissue age. The
most productive sections are the first two, with 84% of total
productivity. This result is due, apart from the influence of light
and stem/leaf ratio, to the greater biomass concentration which is
found within 30 cm of the surface (33% of total plant weight) (Fig. 1).
Dark carbon fixation is 0.21 mg C-g dry wt-^hr-1 and seems to have
a significant effect on apparent photosynthesis, unlike in
Myriophyllum spicatum (Adams et a/., 1974). In comparison with
the August 14, 1972 photosynthesis of M. spicatum in Lake Wingra
(Adams et al. , 1974), C. demersum plants show a much more rapid
reduction of 14C-uptake from growing tips to the bottom.

I have separately analyzed the leaves and stems of the same plant
presented in Fig. 1, first to assess stem contribution to total
photosynthetic productivity and, second, to evaluate variation due
to changes in quantities of photosynthetic tissue with depth. Figure
2 indicates that, if translocation of 14C-labeled photosynthate did not

156

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

0 30 60 90 120 150 180 200

DISTANCE FROM GROWING TIP (cm)

7.5 22.5 45 75 97.5112.5 1275 150 180 197.5

INCUBATION DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 1. Apparent photosynthesis of 15-30 cm shoot sections of
Ceratophyllum demersum incubated at natural depths within
the Myriophyllum spicatum community on September 11,
1975.

occur, stem tissue is photosynthetically much less active than leaf
tissue. The marked decline in apparent photosynthesis along the C.
demersum shoot was not offset by conversion to a leaf weight basis,
in contrast with data for M. spicatum (Adams et al., 1974).

The photosynthesis profile of C. demersum under laboratory
conditions is shown in Fig. 3 with the photosynthetic rates, light
intensity, percent of total plant photosynthesis and percent of total
weight. Again, the greatest photosynthetic rate occurs at the top
(3.26 mg Cg dry wt-^hr-O.flbut in this case there was an apparent
plateau of photosynthetic rates near the surface (56% of the total
photosynthetic productivity occurred in the first two segments),

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

157

followed by a pronounced decline in the last three stem sections.
With the light, temperature, current flow and water chemistry
effectively constant, the different photosynthetic rates are probably
due to the tissue age and stem/leaf ratio differences.

Figure 4 points out the effect of the variable natural light regime
on photosynthesis. Since only growing tips were used, tissue age and
stem/leaf ratio were relatively constant, as was temperature. With
a mean surface irradiance of 0.30 ly-min-1, C uptake declined
markedly from 1.40 mg C-g dry wt-1 -hr-1 at the surface to less than
0.2 mg C-g dry wt-^hr-1 at 1.60 m.

t — T ' I — r- 1 ■ \ 1 T 1 1 T 1 R— ■

O 30 60 90 120 150 180 200

7.5 22.5 45 75 97.5112.5 1275 150 180 1975

WATER DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 2. Carbon uptake of 15-30 cm sections of Ceratophyllum
demersum incubated at natural depths within the
Myriophyllum spicatum community. A. Stems; B. Leaves. 11
September 1975.

158

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

r 40
30

h2o y
Ho £

CL

L0

PhAR, MICROEINSTEINS m-2 sec-'

PER CENT OF TOTAL PLANT PHOTOSYNTHESIS
PER CENT OF TOTAL PLANT WEIGHT

DISTANCE FROM GROWING TIP (cm)

FIGURE 3. Vertical distribution of carbon-14 fixation of Ceratophyllum
demersum under laboratory conditions. Water temperature
25 C, pH 8.8; alkalinity 124 mg CaCOg-l-1.

The control of photosynthesis by light was quantified in the
laboratory (Fig. 5). The light saturated photosynthetic rate of C.
demersum apical shoots at 650-700 p E.m-2-sec-l ( = 0.5
cahcm-^min-1) and 21 ± 1 C was 2.30 mg C-g-1 (dry weight) -hr-1.
Spence and Chrystal (1970) found a low saturation irradiance of
0.02 cahcm-2*min-1 for Potamogeton obtusifolius; W. Stone (per¬
sonal communication) found saturated photosynthetic rate of 8.9
mg C-g-1 (dry weight)-hr-1 at about 1000 pE-m-^sec-1 for Lake
Wingra M. spicatum in September.

Tailing (1957) introduced a parameter Ik, the irradiance at which
a straight line representing the initial slope of the light curve
intersects a line representing the saturated photosynthetic rate; Ik
is considered a measure of light-temperature adaptation and the
onset of light saturation (Vollenweider, 1974). Calculating the
initial slope of the C. demersum light curve by regression (r = 0.95)
gives an Ik of 250 pE-m-^sec-1. M. spicatum in September has an

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis, C. demersum

159

INCUBATION DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 4. Apparent photosynthesis of growing tips of Ceratophyllum
demersum incubated at four different depths within the
community on October 3, 1975. Vertical bars are ranges.

FIGURE 5. Apparent photosynthesis light curve of growing tips of
Ceratophyllum demersum (3 replicates) on September 19,
1975. Circles are mean values; vertical bars are ranges.
Water temperature 21 C; alkalinity 144 mg CaC03 l-1; pH
8.7. Concerning Ik, see the text.

Ik of about 800 ^E-rn-^-sec-1 (W. Stone, personal communications).
This indicates that C. demersum may be considered a “shade”
species as suggested by Carr (1969b). The full significance of this
shade adaptation is little studied, although others have recognized

160

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, A rts and Letters [Vol. 65

“sun” and “shade” adapted aquatic macrophytes (Carr, 1969b;
Spence and Chrystal, 1970; Spence et al. , 1973).

Factors controlling the photosynthetic rates with depth of C.
denier sum. include light, tissue age and stem/leaf ratio. Compared
with M. spicatum , the dominant species in the Lake Wingra littoral
macrophyte community, C. demersum may be characterized as a
species adapted to low light intensity. Experiments in other seasons
and further information about competition and relationships
between these two species would be useful for studies of the
dynamics and evolution of the littoral zone.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My sincere thanks to Professor M. S. Adams and his group for the
use of the laboratory, assistance and friendship. I am much
indebted to J. E. Titus, M. J. Lechowicz and W. H. Stone, for reading
the manuscript and offering many helpful suggestions. This
research was supported by the Istituto Italiano di Idrobiologia.
Pallanza, Italy and by National Science Foundation grant #BMS75-
19777 to the Institute for Environmental Studies, University of
Wisconsin, Madison (M. S. Adams, Department of Botany,
Principal Investigator).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adams, M. S., J. E. Titus and M. D. McCracken. 1974. Depth distribution of
photosynthetic activity in a Myriophyllum spicatum community in Lake
Wingra. Limnol. Oceanogr. 19: 377-389.

American Public Health Association. 1965. Standard Methods for the
Examination of Water and Wastewater , 12 th ed.

Bray, G. A. 1960. A simple efficient liquid scintillator for counting aqueous
solution in a liquid scintillation counter. Anal. Biochem. 1: 279-285.

Carr, J. L. 1969a. The primary productivity and physiology of
Ceratophyllum demersum. I. Gross macro primary productivity. Aust. J.
Mar. Freshwater Res. 20: 115-126.

Carr, J. L. 1969b. The primary productivity and physiology of
Ceratophyllum demersum. II. Micro-primary productivity, pH, and the
P/R ratio. Aust. J. Mar. Freshwater Res. 20: 127-142.

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis, C. demersum

161

Goulder, R. 1970. Day-time variations in the rates of production by two
natural communities of submerged freshwater macrophytes. J. Ecol. 58:
521-528.

Goulder, R., and D. J. Boatman. 1971. Evidence that nitrogen supply
influences the distribution of a freshwater macrophyte, Ceratophyllum
demersum. J. Ecol. 59: 783-791.

Meyer, B. S. 1939. The daily cycle of apparent photosynthesis in a
submerged aquatic. Am. Jour. Bot. 26: 755-760.

Meyer, B. S., and A. C. Heritage. 1941. Effect of turbidity and depth of
immersion on apparent photosynthesis in Ceratophyllum demersum.
Ecology 22: 17-22.

Nichols, S. A., and S. Mori. 1971. The littoral macrophyte vegetation of
Lake Wingra. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 59: 107-119.

Rich, P. H., R. G. Wetzel and N. V. Thuy. 1971. Distribution, production
and role of aquatic macrophytes in a southern Michigan marl lake.
Freshwater Biol. 1: 3-21.

Saunders, G. W., F. B. Trama and R. W. Bachmann. 1962. Evaluation of a
modified 14C technique for shipboard estimation of photosynthesis in
large lakes. Mich. Univ. Great Lake Res. Div. Pub. 8: 61 pp.

Spence, D.H.N., and J. Chrystal. 1970. Photosynthesis and zonation of
freshwater macrophytes. 2. Adaptability of species of deep and shallow
water. New Phytol. 69: 217-227.

Spence, D.H.N., R. M. Campbell and J. Chrystal. 1973. Specific leaf areas
and zonation of freshwater macrophytes. Jour. Ecol. 61: 317-328.

Tailing, J. F. 1957. Photosynthetic characteristics of some freshwater
plankton diatoms in relation to underwater radiation. New Phytol. 56: 1-
50.

Vollenweider, R. A. 1974. A Manual on Methods for Measuring Primary
Production in Aquatic Environments. IBP Handbook No. 12, Blackwell
Sci. Pub. Oxford.

Westlake, D. F. 1965. Some basic data for investigations of the productivity
of aquatic macrophytes. Mem. 1st. Ital. Idrobiol., 18 Suppl.: 229-248.

Wetzel, R. G. 1965. Techniques and problems of primary productivity

162

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

measurements in higher aquatic plants and periphyton. Mem. 1st. Ital.
Idrobiol., 18 Suppl.: 249-267.

Wetzel, R. G. 1975. Limnology. W. B. Saunders Co. Philadelphia. 743 pp.

Wetzel, R. G., and H. L. Allen. 1972. “Functions and interactions of
dissolved organic matter and the littoral zone in lake metabolism and
eutrophication.” In: Productivity Problems of Freshwater. Z. Kajak and
A. Hillbricht-Ilkowska, Ed.: 333-347.

THE EFFECTS OF MADISON METROPOLITAN
WASTEWATER EFFLUENT ON WATER QUALITY
IN BADFISH CREEK, YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS

G. Fred Lee

University Texas
— Dallas

INTRODUCTION

In December, 1959, the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District
(MMSD), acting pursuant to the directions of the Legislature in
Section 144.05 (1) of the Wisconsin Statutes, initiated diversion of
their wastewater effluents from the Yahara River between Lakes
Monona and Waubesa, to the Badfish Creek, which empties into the
Yahara and Rock Rivers below Lake Kegonsa. This diversion was
accomplished by the construction of a $3.5 million pipeline and
diversion ditch from the Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant to
Badfish Creek. The purpose of diversion was to improve water
quality in Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa by reducing the amounts of
aquatic plant nutrients discharged to these lakes. Additional
information on the diversion is discussed in Mackenthun et al.
(1960), Wisniewski (1961), Wisconsin Department of Natural
Resources (undated) and Teletzke ( 1953). It is generally agreed that
this diversion did improve water quality in the two lower lakes
(Lawton, 1961; Sonzogni and Lee, 1974). However, while the
diversion of the Madison effluents lowered the nutrient levels
within these lakes, the concentrations present after diversion were
still sufficient to produce excessive growths of algae. These
nutrients are primarily derived from urban and rural runoff,
groundwater and the atmosphere (Sonzogni and Lee, 1975).

One of the frequently asked questions about this diversion was its
effect on the Badfish Creek and Yahara and Rock Rivers.
Beginning in 1953, stations on the Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock
Rivers have been sampled on a weekly to bi-weekly basis and
analyzed for biochemical oxygen demand (BOD), dissolved oxygen
(DO), suspended solids, nonvolatile solids, soluble and total
phosphate, ammonia, nitrite, nitrate, organic nitrogen and
coliforms at approximately 20 locations by the Madison
Metropolitan Sewerage District. This paper presents a review of
the chemical data and discusses the water quality in the Badfish
Creek, Rock and Yahara Rivers based on the MMSD data.

163

164

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

DATA REDUCTION

Because of the large amounts of data available (over 50,000 data
points), overall means and standard deviations were computed for
each of the parameters measured at each of the sampling stations.
The overall mean concentration should give a reliable estimate of
the trends of water quality at each of the stations for the study
period, generally from 1953 through 1970. The standard deviation
for the data at any one station for any particular parameter gives a
measure of the variability of the data from the mean. The data for
the annual means with the various chemical parameters is
presented in a report by Lee and Veith (1971). The sampling
stations used by the MMSD are presented in Table 1 and Fig. 1.

The weekly to bi-weekly data on the concentrations of various
chemical contaminants in the receiving waters for the Madison
Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant effluent (MMSD-STP)
provide a good index to water quality at that location in the
receiving streams. The data, however, do not provide quantitative
information on the relative significance of various sources of these
contaminants. In order to make quanitative estimates of this type,
discharge measurements of each of the tributary sources must be
available. In general, discharge information was not available with
the result that this paper has to discuss the effects of the Madison

TABLE 1. SAMPLING STATIONS: BADFISH CREEK,
YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS

Station Stream

Location

NS

Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant effluent

A

Aerator No. 1 (End of Diversion Pipeline)

B

Diversion Ditch

Berman Bridge on E-W road Sec. 31 Dunn Tn.

1

Badfish Creek -

N-S road between Sec. 4 and 5

N. Branch

Rutland Tn.

3

Badfish Creek -

S. Branch

County Trunk A culvert Sec. 16 Rutland Tn.

4

Combined Badfish

Creek

County Trunk A bridge Sec. 15 Rutland Tn.

8

Combined Badfish

Creek

St. Hy. 59 bridge Sec. 4 — Porter Tn.

9

Yahara River

St. Hy. 59 bridge Sec. 10 — Porter Tn.

10

Yahara River

Stebbinsville Dam — in pond

Fulton Power House Tailrace

14A

Yahara River

15

Rock River

Below Indianford Dam at Power Plant

16

Rock River

St. Hy. 14 bridge N of Janesville

Sampling stations indicated are the same as those used by the Madison Metropolitan
Sewerage District.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

165

FIGURE 1. SAMPLING LOCATIONS ON THE BADFISH CREEK,
YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS.

Nine Springs Sewage Plant effluent on the receiving waters in a
qualitative to semi-quantitive manner.

Quality of the Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant Effluent

The Madison Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant (STP) of the
Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District is a primary and

166

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

secondary treatment facility. It is designed to remove suspended
solids and oxygen demand in the form of BOD (biochemical oxygen
demand). The plant consists of primary sedimentation tanks
followed by either trickling filters or activated sludge aeration
tanks with approximately 72 percent of the flow passing through
the activated sludge treatment process. Both the activated sludge
and trickling filter process water go to secondary settling tanks, the
effluent of which is chlorinated and pumped via the 1959 diversion
pipeline and ditch to the Badfish Creek. The solids removed in the
primary and secondary sedimentation tanks from the trickling
filter part of the plant, and the waste activated sludge obtained
from the secondary sedimentation tanks of the activated sludge part
of the plant, are combined and digested at elevated temperatures.
The digesters are fixed-cover, completely mixed systems. The
digested sludge is pumped to sludge-holding tanks and then to
sludge lagoons located adjacent to the STP. In 1962-63, during the
time that the plant was expanded to handle an additional wasteload,
the digester supernatant was pumped with the sludge to the lagoon.

TABLE 2. MADISON NINE SPRINGS SEWAGE TREAT¬
MENT PLANT AVERAGE FLOWS, EFFLUENT
BOD AND SUSPENTED SOLIDS*

Year

Flow (MGD)**

Average
BOD-5 day
(mg/1)

Average

Suspended Solids
(mg/1)

1952

16.7

20

16

1953

16.2

16

15

1954

17.1

17

21

1955

17.7

16

23

1956

17.5

16

23

1957

17.6

21

27

1958

17.7

21

27

1959

20.8

34

49

1960

22.5

30

39

1961

21.7

34

40

1962

22.0

45

51

1963

22.8

47

52

1964

23.0

18

23

1965

24.5

19

24

1966

26.0

21

24

1967

27.2

18

17

1968

29.3

22

24

1969

31.3

20

21

1970

30.7

21

27

*Data based on information provided in the annual reports of the Metropolitan
Sewerage Commission.

**Million gallons per day.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

167

Prior to that it was returned to the sedimentation tank. Since the
summer of 1970 some of the liquid present in the sludge lagoons was
pumped back to the primary tanks.

From an overall point of view the MMSD-STP is doing an
excellent job in removing suspended solids and BOD (see Table 2).
Normally, plants of this type have a residual BOD in the order of 20
mg/1 after treatment. During the period from 1964 to 1970, the
MMSD-STP achieved an effluent BOD of approximately 20 mg/1.
In 1961 through 1963, when the plant was under construction for
expansion, the BOD in the effluent became approximately twice this
value, indicating relatively poor treatment compared to what could
be achieved, and what was previously achieved.

The total suspended solids in the MMSD-STP effluent since the
plant has been reconstructed has averaged about 20 to 25 mg/1,
which indicates a good removal of solid material. As in the case of
BOD, there were high values of suspended solids found only during
1961-1963 construction period.

These results are in accord with the report from the Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources (Wis. DNR, 1971) in which they
stated that in a 19-month period, from February 1969 through
August, 1970, the average effluent BOD from the plant was 20.1
mg/1, and the average suspended solid concentration 23.0 mg/1 They
concluded that the present treatment efficiency was good.

It should be noted that in the period since the 1959 diversion, the
flow in the MMSD-STP has increased from about 20 million gallons
per day (mgd) to approximately 31 mgd. Also, it should be noted
that in 1962-63, at the time of plant expansion, the flows were
approximately 22 mgd. Therefore, since the last expansion, the
flows have increased approximately 9 mgd and the plant has still
maintained a high treatment efficiency with good removal of BOD
and suspended solids.

Effect of Treated Effluent on the Badfish Creek

The prediversion data were generally taken at Stations 1, 3, 4, 8,
9, and 10 for the period 1953-58 for BOD5 , nonvolatile suspended
solids, nitrate, nitrite, and ammonia. In general, 237 samples were
taken from these stations for these parameters. Prediversion
sampling of Station 8 did not start until 1956, in which time 110
samples were taken. Total phosphorus, soluble phosphate and
organic nitrogen prediversion samples were collected from Stations
1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10, 14A, 15, 16 and 17. The post diversion samples were

168

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

taken from all stations listed in Table 1 from 1959-1970 during
which time approximately 395 samples were taken from each
station.

In the period 1953 to the present, the MMSD has sampled at
weekly, and later at bi-weekly intervals at three locations in the
Badfish Creek. In addition, some samples have been taken from the
wastewater in the diversion ditch before the water enters the
Badfish Creek North Branch. Also, routine sampling has been
conducted on the South Branch of the Badfish Creek. Station 1
represents the composition of the North Branch of the Badfish
Creek at a point below where the MMSD-STP effluent enters this
creek (see Fig. 1). At this point, the Badfish Creek contains the
sewage treatment plant effluent from the Village of Oregon, storm
water drainage from Oregon, the effluent from the MMSD-STP
effluent and any drainage arising from agricultural lands. It is
estimated that approximately 50 to 80 percent of the flow at this
station is derived from the MMSD-STP effluent. The Village of
Oregon expanded its wastewater treatment facility in 1969. It is
expected that this plant should achieve BOD and suspended solid
removals such that its effluent should have approximately the same
characteristics as that of the MMSD-STP. This would not have been
true prior to the reconstruction of this plant. However, when mixed
in the Badfish Creek, because of the relatively large discharges of
MMSD effluent, it is estimated that MMSD-STP contributes about
99 percent of the wasteload (Wis. DNR, 1971) to the Badfish Creek
at Station 1.

BOD and Dissolved Oxygen

Prior to the introduction of the MMSD-STP effluent to the
Badfish Creek, the BOD 5 in the Creek at Station 1 ranged from 4 to
7 mg/1 (see Table 3). After diversion it has increased to ap¬
proximately 20 mg/1, with a maximum in 1962 and 1963 of 27 and 31
mg/1, respectively for the annual average BOD5 . Since the
expansion of the plant in 1963, the annual average of BOD- at
Station 1 has been in the order of 12 to 17 mg/1. A comparison
between the STP effluent and this station’s data shows that there is
a reduction in the BOD5 from the effluent at the STP to Station 1.
This reduction is probably due to dilution from the Badfish Creek
water and due to removal of BOD through sedimentation and
biochemical processes in the diversionary pipe and ditch.

OVERALL MEAN CONCENTRATIONS OF SELECTED CONTAMINANTS IN THE MMSD
EFFLUENT, DIVERSION DITCH, BADFISH CREEK AND YAHARA RIVER

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

169

to CL Q

CL Q

CL Q

OT >

<1 CL 5

cl q

PL Q

CL Q

CL Q

CL Q

P* "S
EH o
CO CL

I I

CL

be

£

*Post div = Post wastewater diversion
**Pre div = Pre wastewater diversion

170

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The suspended solids data for Station 1 show that (Table 3), in
general, they are approximately the same as the MMSD-STP
effluent, although occasionally some relatively high values are
found which are probably derived from storm water drainage from
the Village of Oregon and agricultural lands.

The best way to examine the effect of the STP effluent BOD on
water quality at Station 1 on the Badfish is to examine the dissolved
oxygen levels at this station. In the case of dissolved oxygen, annual
means should not be used for comparison purposes, since it is the
critically low DO values which are of importance to aquatic
organisms. Examination of the data (see Lee and Veith, 1971) for
Station 1 shows that at several times during each year the dissolved
oxygen (DO) levels at this station are less than 3 mg/1, and
frequently are less than 1 mg/1, especially during the summer and
fall of 1970. Normally, a DO of 5mg/l or more is desirable (US EPA,
1976), with 3 to 4 mg/1 being the minimum for maintenance of some
of the desirable forms of fish. It is concluded that the dissolved
oxygen concentrations at Station 1 are sufficiently low to have a
significant adverse effect on aquatic life at this location.

In order to ascertain whether it is the MMSD-STP effluent or
some other conditions which are causing this low DO at Station 1,
examination of the data from Stations A and B should be made.
Station A is located at the effluent from the cascade aerator at the
point where the effluent enters the diversion ditch from the
pipeline. Station B is approximately one half mile from this pointon
the diversion ditch. In general, in recent years the effluent from the
cascade aerator has run between 4 to 8 mg/1 of dissolved oxygen. By
Station B occasionally zero DO values have been reported, with
frequent values less than 3 mg/1. Generally, whenever low values
are reported at Station B, even lower values are reported at Station
1. Further study will be necessary to ascertain the relative flow
times and the expected rates of BOD exertion in the diversion ditch
between the cascade aerator and Station 1 . However, from a cursory
examination of the data, it can be expected that there would be a
significant reduction in the amount of dissolved oxygen in this ditch
due to residual BOD present in the MMSD-STP effluent.

Prior to the 1959 diversion, data collected by the Committee on
Water Pollution, State of Wisconsin (Mackenthun et ai, 1960 and
Wisniewski, 1961), and the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage
District show that low dissolved oxygen values were found at
Station 1. At times, essentially zero dissolved oxygen was found at
this station. It is possible that the low dissolved oxygen values found

1977]

Lee — Water Quality, Badfish- Yahara-Rock

171

at Station 1 prior to diversion were due to the discharge of
wastewaters from the Village of Oregon to the Badfish Creek. Since
the 1959 diversion, this pattern has not changed to any significant
extent. The primary difference in the data before and after
diversion is with respect to Stations 4 and 8. Both the Committee on
Water Pollution and the MMSD data show that no critically low
dissolved oxygen values were found at the lower two stations in the
Badfish Creek prior to diversion. However, after diversion
occasionally low dissolved oxygen values were found.

Examination of the DO and BOD5 data for Station 4, which is
located about four miles downstream on the Badfish Creek below
Station 1, shows that occasionally critically low DO concentrations
are encountered at this station, which can be attributable to the
MMSD-STP effluent. The South Branch of the Badfish Creek joins
the North Branch between Stations 1 and 4. Examination of the
data for DO and BOD5 for station 3 on the South Branch of the
Badfish, shows that it does not contribute to the low DO values
which are observed at Station 4. If anything, it would tend to raise
the DO values at Station 4 slightly above what would be
encountered without the dilution water brought in from South
Branch.

The critically low DO values shown in the MMSD data for
Stations 1 and 4 are supported by the Department of Natural
Resources 1971 Report in which they state on page 32 (Wis. DNR,
1971) that in this reach of the stream the organisms found are
indicative of high levels of pollution just below the outfall, while at
Station 4, the stream is considered to be in a semi-polluted
condition.

The next station that was routinely sampled by the MMSD on the
Badfish Creek was Station 8, which is located just above the
confluence of the Badfish Creek with the Yahara River. Station 8 is
approximately 12 miles below Station 4. Between these two stations
several small tributaries enter the Creek. In addition, it can be
expected that during periods of rainfall appreciable amounts of
pollutional materials derived from agricultural lands, such as crop
land, small feed-lot operations, and drainage of marshes, would
contribute to the wasteload of the stream. Of particular importance
would be the drainage from wetlands. Lee, Bentley and Amundson
(1975) found the drainage from wetlands in south-central Wisconsin
to have adverse effects on water quality in the receiving stream.
Frequently, this drainage contained low dissolved oxygen, high
nitrogen and phosphorus.

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Examination of the DO data for Station 8 shows that occasionally
DO levels of less than 4 mg/1 are encountered at this station. In
general, the BOD values found at Station 8 are equal to or greater
than those found at Station 4, thereby indicating that, since
appreciable BOD removal would be expected in the stream between
these two stations, significant BOD addition occurs in this stream,
due to several sources. First, because of the large amounts of plant
nutrients present in the stream, a prolific growth of aquatic plants
is found. These plants tend to contribute to the BOD of the stream;
however, examination of the winter data, when the growth of
aquatic plants would be minimal, does not show that this is a
significant source of BOD for the stream.

Another factor to consider is the possible effect of nitrification on
the BOD of the stream. It is conceivable that little or no nitrification
has occurred by Stations 1 and 4, while by Station 8, significant
nitrification is in progress. This nitrification would possibly show
up in the normal BOD5 test at Station 8 and not be present at
Stations 1 and 4. There is some support for this suggestion, based on
the changes in the ammonia and the nitrate concentrations from
Stations 4 and 8 for the Badfish Creek (see Table 3).

In general, there is an increase in suspended solids in the Badfish
Creek from Stations 1 to 4 and 4 to 8 (Table 3). This increase
indicates either the amounts of algae present in the creek or the
large amounts of materials contributed from rural runoff. Since the
organic nitrogen content of the stream remains essentially constant
throughout its length, it is possible to tentatively rule out increases
in algae as a cause of the increases of the solids. It is more likely,
based on the data available, that this is due to an increase in the
amounts of erosional material brought into the stream from the
farmlands.

An additional point that should be made with regard to the effects
of the MMSD-STP effluent on Badfish Creek is that this effluent
will likely increase the amounts of aquatic plants, particularly
attached filamentous algae, in the creek. These aquatics become
sufficiently thick at times that they have caused the MMSD to
purchase a weed cutter for harvesting weeds from the diversion
ditch. Probably the most significant problem caused by the
luxuriant growth of aquatic plants in Badfish Creek is the effect of
these plants on the DO in the stream. It is reasonable to expect that
the Badfish Creek would show a large diurnal DO fluctuation with a
maximum DO in late afternoon and a minimum in the morning just
before sunrise. This marked change in DO would be related to the

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173

photosynthesis and respiration of the aquatic plants and the
respiration of the bacteria in the stream utilizing the organic
matter in the water. Data showing the magnitude of the diurnal
fluctuations in DO were unavailable except for a limited study by
the graduate students in Sanitary Engineering at the University of
Wisconsin-Madison (Sanitary Engineering, 1969). Based on the fact
that the MMSD data were all collected during the day at a time
when DO would be expected to be higher than in the early morning,
it is reasonable to expect that the minimum DO values would likely
be lower due to this diurnal DO fluctuation. In some streams of this
type a several mg/1 diurnal DO fluctuation is encountered, so that
even a 5 mg/1 DO in midday might have a just-before-sunrise
minimum DO of 3 mg/1 or less. Additional study would be necessary
in order to ascertain the significance of the diurnal DO fluctuations
arising from the luxuriant aquatic plant growth on the DO
concentration of Badfish Creek.

Another problem which is caused by the discharge of the MMSD-
STP effluent to the Badfish Creek is the large amounts of ammonia
(NH3 +NH 4+) that are contributed. Ammonia has been shown to be
acutely toxic to fish at concentrations of a few mg/1 or less in 96
hours at the pH range in the Badfish Creek (USE PA, 197 6). The U S
EPA has established 0.2 mg/1 as unionized ammonia as a safe level
for chronic exposure of fish at pH 8 and 20 C. This concentration is
equivalent to a total ammonia (NH< + NH4+) of approximately 0.5
mg/1 as N. Measurements of pH by the MMSD showed the averages
ranged from approximately* 7.5 to 8.5 in the MMSD-STP effluent
and in waters of Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock Rivers. The STP
effluent has between 12 and 20 mg/1 of ammonia nitrogen (NH8 +
NH4+). At Station 1 the 12-year average, since diversion, is 10.6
mg/1 of ammonia nitrogen, while at Station 8 this average is 6.7
mg/1 N. There can be little doubt, based on the data available, that
the primary source of ammonia is the MMSD-STP and that this
ammonia would be expected to show toxicity to fish in the Badfish
Creek throughout its length. Further, as noted above, ammonia
concentrations of this level would exert a significant oxygen
demand on the Badfish Creek.

Effect of the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District
Effluent on the Yahara River

In order to examine the effects of the discharge of the MMSD
effluent on the Yahara River, Stations 8, 9 and 10 have been

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sampled since 1956 on a weekly, and more recently on a bi-weekly
basis, with Stations 9 and 10 being sampled since 1953. Station 8 is
located on the Badfish Creek approximately 1.5 miles above the
point where this stream enters the Yahara River. Station 10 is
located on the Yahara at the Stebbinsville Dam above the point
where the Badfish enters the Yahara. Station 9 is located at the
State Highway 59 bridge where this highway crosses the Yahara
River below the confluence of the Yahara River and Badfish Creek.

Examination of the BOD5 data for Stations 8, 9 10 (Table 3)
shows that the annual mean concentrations at Station 8 are always
higher than that at Station 10. The resultant BOD5 at Station 9 is
between the two values reported at Stations 8 and 10. In general the
minimum DO at Station 9 is in the order of 5 mg/1; however, since
this is a daytime value, it is possible that it could drop to what would
be considered critical levels for some aquatic organisms, including
fish, in the vicinity of aquatic plants in the river. There is some
indication from the data available that some of the low values in DO
that are found at Station 9 on the Yahara River are due in part to the
BOD contributed from the Badfish Creek. However, as pointed out
above, there appear to be other sources of BOD in Badfish Creek
besides the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District. With the data
available at this time it is impossible to determine whether the
MMSD-STP discharge is contributing significant amounts of BOD
which causes the near-critical measured values for DO in the
Yahara River.

Examination of suspended solids data for Stations 8, 9 and 10
shows that, in general, Station 8 on the Badfish has higher
suspended solids values than Stations 9 or 10. Therefore, the
Badfish is contributing suspended solids to the Yahara River.
However, since Station 9 shows considerably higher suspended
solids normally than Stations 1 and 4 on the Badfish, it must be
concluded that the suspended solids present in the MMSD-STP
effluent are not contributing significantly to the suspended solids
present in the Yahara River.

The ammonia data for Stations 8, 9 and 10 shows that the Badfish
Creek is contributing to excessive concentrations of ammonia in the
Yahara River. These concentrations are sufficiently great to cause
fish toxicity problems in this river near the confluence of the
Badfish and the Yahara. It appears that the excessive concen¬
trations of ammonia in the Yahara River at Station 9 are due to a
major extent to the discharge of large amounts of ammonia from the
MMSD-STP.

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175

Examination of the nitrogen and phosphorus data for the Yahara
River, Radfish Creek and the confluence of the two at Station 9
shows that the MMSD-STP effluent is contributing to the large
amounts of nitrogen and phosphorus present in the Y ahara River at
Station 9. Excessive concentrations of nitrogen and phosphorus in
the Yahara River would be considerably less than that for the
Badfish Creek, since the Badfish Creek is a rapidly moving stream
with essentially no impoundments or standing water. However, the
Yahara River has numerous impoundments, many of which are
constructed for power production. These impoundments create
relatively low velocity water and lake-like conditions. Typically it
has been found that inorganic nitrogen in excess of about 0.3 mg/1
N,and soluble orthophosphate in excess of 0.01 mg/1 P (0.03 mg/1
P04=) (Sawyer, (1947) can cause excessive growths of algae and
other aquatic plants in lakes. The Yahara River, before the Badfish
enters it, has concentrations of nitrogen and phosphorus in excess of
these values. The addition of the waters from the Badfish greatly
increases the amount of nitrogen and phosphorus in the Yahara and
will likely increase the problems of excessive growths of algae in
various impoundments of the Yahara River.

Examination of the data for the two stations on the Yahara River
below the point where the Badfish enters, shows that there is a
slight reduction in BOD, soluble phosphate and ammonia as the
water flows from Station 9 to 14A. Station 14A is located at Fulton,
Wisconsin, on the Yahara River. There is an increase in nitrate
which is probably attributable to nitrification of the ammonia and
inflow of groundwater. Suspended solids data appears to be highly
variable with no discernible pattern evident from the data
available.

From an overall point of view there is an improvement in water
quality in the Yahara River from Station 9 to 14 A. In general, the
DO values for Station 14A are above the critical value. It is possible
that they might drop below critical values of 3 to 4 mg/1 during early
morning.

Effect of the Madison Effluent on the Rock River

Four sampling stations were established in order to ascertain the
effect of the MMSD-STP effluent on the Rock River. Station 14A is
located on the Yahara River at Fulton, above where the Yahara
enters the Rock; Station 15 is at Indianford Dam on the Rock River,
and Station 16 is at State Highway 14 bridge just north of

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Janesville. The MMSD also sampled Station 17, located in the
center of Janesville, but these data are not included because
influenced by inputs from the city of Janesville. Examination of the
DO data for these three stations shows that adequate DO is present
at all stations throughout the year to maintain desirable aquatic life
in the stream.

From examination of the 5-day BOD data, it is doubtful that the
MMSD-STP effluent has any effect on the BOD levels found in the
Rock River. The ammonia data show that the Yahara River is
contributing increased concentrations of ammonia to the Rock
River, as evidenced by an increase in the concentrations of this
compound at Station 16 compared to 15; however, in general, the
concentrations of ammonia at Station 16 are less than the critical
concentrations for excessive growths of algae and for toxicity to
aquatic organisms. On the other hand, comparison of the nitrate
values for Stations 14A, 15 and 16 shows that the Yahara generally
has higher levels of nitrate nitrogen than does the Rock River.
Mixing the two increases the nitrate to levels that would produce
excessive growths of algae. If the nitrate and ammonia are added
together in order to calculate the inorganic nitrogen, it is found that
in excess of a mg/1 of inorganic nitrogen is present in the Rock River
below the confluence of the Y ahara and the Rock, and that this value
is derived to some extent from the discharge of MMSD-STP effluent
into the Badfish Creek. It will be necessary to do additional study in
order to ascertain the amount of the inorganic nitrogen present in
the Rock River at Janesville that can be attributed to the discharge
from MMSD-STP.

The same type of pattern obtains for soluble phosphorus, where
MMSD-STP effluent is contributing to excessive concentrations of
soluble orthophosphate in the Rock River above Janesville. The
inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate would be expected
to contribute to the excessive growths of algae in the Rock River.

The suspended solids data do not show any discernible trends
attributable to the discharge of MMSD-STP effluent to the Badfish
Creek. It is doubtful that the discharge has any effect on the
suspended solids which are found in the Rock River.

From an overall point of view; the only readily discernible effects
of Madison discharge of wastewater effluents to the Badfish Creek
on water quality in the Rock River above Janesville is an increase in
the inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate above the levels
that are said to cause excessive growth of algae in lakes and
impoundments. Schraufnagel (1971) has estimated that ap-

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Lee — Water Quality, Badfish-Yahara-Rock

177

proximate ly 90 percent of the phosphorus present in the Yahara
River just before it enters the Rock River is derived from sewage
plant discharges from DeForest, Windsor, Arlington, Waunakee,
Cottage Grove, Oregon and Madison. Because of the relative size of
these communities, by far the major part of the phosphorus is
derived from Madison. He also estimates that approximately 60
percent of the phosphorus present in the Rock River immediately
below confluence with the Yahara, is derived from municipal
wastewater sources. Based on these estimates the MMSD-STP
effluent contributes between 30 to 40 percent of the phosphorus
present in the Rock River just above Janesville.

DISCUSSION

The purpose of the December, 1959 diversion of the Madison
wastewater effluent from the Y ahara River above Lake Waubesa to
the Badfish Creek, which enters the Yahara River below Lake
Kegonsa, was to reduce the amounts of aquatic plant nutrients,
nitrogen and phosphorus compounds, that enter these small lakes.
Generally, lakes do not have significant water quality problems in
the surface waters due to low DO; however, lakes frequently tend to
grow excessive amounts of algae more readily than do streams.
There is little doubt that the diversion of the MMSD-STP effluent
did result in improved water quality in Lakes Waubesa and
Kegonsa, as evidenced by less excessive growth of obnoxious algae.
There has, at the same time, been a deterioration in water quality in
the upper parts of the Badfish Creek, which can be directly
attributed to the discharge of effluent to this creek. The diversion of
the nitrogen and phosphorus from Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa to
the Badfish has most probably created serious water quality
problems in the Badfish and Yahara River at the point where the
Badfish enters the Yahara, due to the high concentrations of
ammonia which could lead to toxicity to fish and to excessive
growths of algae in the Badfish Creek.

A comparison of the data (Table 3) available on the concentrations
of nitrogen and phosphorus present at Station 9 on the Y ahara River
below the point where the Badfish empties into it prior to the
diversion and after the diversion, shows that the amounts of
inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate found in the river at
this point have increased. As would be expected, Lakes Waubesa
and Kegonsa would tend to act as nutrient traps by accumulating in
the lake sediments some of the nitrogen and phosphorus that used to

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

be discharged to these lakes. After diversion, there is an ap¬
proximate doubling in the amount of phosphorus present in the
Yahara River below the Badfish. There is essentially little
opportunity on an annual basis for this phosphorus to be removed in
the Badfish Creek.

The same pattern is found for the Rock River in that the diversion
of the effluent around Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa increased the
concentrations of inorganic nitrogen and phosphorus present in the
Rock River below the point where the Yahara River enters. It
should be mentioned, though, that some of the increase in
phosphorus found today in the Rock River just above Janesville
would be attributable to the overall increase of phosphorus in the
MMSD-STP effluent since 1959, i.e. almost a doubling in the
amounts of soluble orthophosphate from 1959 to 1968. In the same
period the total phosphorus present has remained essentially the
same. It is interesting to note that this increase in soluble
orthophosphate has occurred even though the 1962-63 expansion of
the plant eliminated the return of digester supernatant to the
primary sedimentation tanks. It was likely that even if the effluent
had continued to be discharged through Lakes Waubesa and
Kegonsa, the overall concentrations of soluble orthphosphate in the
Rock River above Janesville would have increased somewhat due to
the increases in concentrations in the MMSD-STP effluent during
this same period of time.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

This report was supported by the Madison Metropolitan
Sewerage District, the University of Wisconsin-Madison Depart¬
ment of Civil and Enviromental Engineering and EnviroQual
Consultants & Laboratories, Plano, Texas. Data reduction was
accomplished by Jeffrey Young. This report also received
assistance from S. Dodson of the Laboratory of Limnology and G. D.
Veith.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Lawton, G. W. 1961. “Limitation of Nutrients as a Step in Ecological
Control.” In: Algae and Metropolitan Wastes U. S. Dept. Health,
Educ. and Welfare. Robt. A. Taft Sanitary Engineering Center,
Cincinnati, Ohio. pp. 108-117.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

179

Lee, G. F.,andG. D. Veith. 1971. Report on the Effect of the Discharge of
the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District Wastewater Effluent on
Water Quality on the Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock Rivers.
University of Wisconsin-Madison, Water Chemistry Program.

Lee, G. F., E. Bentley, and R. Amundson. 1975. “Effect of Marshes on
Water Quality.” In: Ecological Studies 10, Coupling of Land and Water
Systems. Springer-Verlag, New York, pp. 105-127.

Mackenthun, K. M., L. A. Lueschow, andC. D. McNabb. 1960. A study of
the effects of diverting the effluent from sewage treatment upon the
receiving stream. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 49: 51-72.

Sanitary Engineering Students. 1969. Badfish Creek Stream Survey.
University of Wisconsin-Madison.

Sawyer, C. N. 1947. Fertilization of lakes by agricultural and urban
drainage. J. New Engl. Water Works Assoc. 61: 109-127.

Schraufnagel, F. H. February 22, 1971. Memorandum to Thomas G.
Frangos. Phosphorus Contribution to the Rock River.

Sonzogni, W. C., and G. F. Lee. 1974. Diversion of waste waters from
Madison Lakes. Jour. Environ. Eng. Div. ASCE 100: 153-170.

Sonzogni, W. C., and G. F. Lee. 1975. Phosphorus sources for the Lower
Madison Lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 63: 162-175.

Teletzke, G. H. 1953. A Sanitary Survey of the Yahara River and the
Badfish Creek. M. S. Thesis, Civil Engineering, University of
Wisconsin-Madison.

U. S. Enviromental Protection Agency. 1976. Quality Criteria for Water.
E PA-440/ 9-76-023. Washington, D. C. 501 pp.

Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. 1971. Lower Rock River
Pollution Investigation Survey, February 1971. DNR, Div. Environ.
Protection, Madison.

Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. Undated. A Review of
Chemical Monitoring on Badfish Creek and Lower Receiving Rivers,
1960-1965.

Wisniewski, T. W. 1961. The Badfish River before and after diversion of
sewage plant effluent, algae and metropolitan wastes. Public Health
Service publ. SEC TR W61-3, Cincinnati, Ohio.

BACK TO THE LAND!

RURAL FINNISH SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN

Arnold R. Alanen

University Wisconsin
— Madison

The only language the stumps understand . . .
is. . . Finnish.1

Although the Finns left an indelible imprint upon certain areas of
Wisconsin, they never numbered among the state’s largest foreign-
born groups. Between 1900 and 1920, for example, Wisconsin’s
Finnish-born population grew from some 2,000 to 6,750 in¬
habitants, but more than fifteen other non-native contingents had
larger representations during both census years.2 The relatively
small number of Finns in Wisconsin is even more evident when the
figures are compared to those for Michigan and Minnesota, the two
states which provided a bifurcated focus for the largest number of
Finnish immigrants to this country. During 1920, Michigan and
Minnesota each had a population of about 30,000 Finnish-born
persons; and together the two states accounted for approximately
forty percent of the United States’ total Finnish community.

How, then, did the Finns develop and nurture a distinctive
identity within Wisconsin? There were undoubtedly several reasons
but a few factors were of paramount importance. One was that the
majority of these Finns settled in relatively few areas of the state
and thereby maintained a tightly-contained geographic identity
and cohesiveness. Secondly, unlike most participants in the major
migration waves between 1880 and World War I (the so-called “new
immigration”), the Wisconsin Finns settled predominantly in rural
rather than urban centers. Hence, it was somewhat easier for them
to maintain a distinctive identity and culture. Thirdly, certain
Finnish institutions, serving a regional or national audience, have
been headquartered in Superior, Wisconsin. Of particular note is
the Central Cooperative Exchange,3 a Finnish-sponsored economic
venture which was initiated during 1917. Before it merged with
Midland Cooperatives, Inc., of Minneapolis in 1963, the wholesaling
facility had an affiliated network of 244 local outlets spread
throughout the Upper Midwest and did some $21 million worth of
business during its peak year of operation.4 Another important
institution in Superior has been the Finnish language press. Its best
known journalistic efforts have been the Tyovaen Osuustoimin-

180

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Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

181

talehti (Workers' Cooperative Journal ), which is the primary news
organ of the Finnish-American cooperative movement, published
between 1930 and 1965; and the Tyomies (Workingman), which
moved from Hancock, Michigan to Superior during 1914. Even
today, the latter newspaper and its associated activities continue to
provide a portion of North America’s Finnish-readers with a
politically left-of-center news outlet.

To many observers of the Wisconsin landscape, the most evident
and interesting Finnish imprint lies in the various vernacular
architectural elements built by this immigrant group. Ranging
from the sauna and riihib to log houses and barns, the
craftsmanship and functional integrity of these structures have
found an appreciative audience among folk architecture
aficionados. The Finnish farm complex at Old World Wisconsin,
located at Eagle, is an effort to display and preserve a major portion
of this ethnic and cultural legacy. In addition, an 1898 Finnish log
structure in the Brantwood area (the Matt Johnson or Knox house)
recently was nominated for inclusion on the National Register of
Historic Places.

Although Wisconsin’s Finnish communities were relatively
small, their activities reflect those of the overall Finnish population
in America. The Wisconsin Finns helped to load Great Lakes ore
carriers on the docks of Ashland and Superior; entered the
treacherous waters of Lake Superior at Herbster and Bark Point to
search for lake trout; ventured into deep underground mines at
Hurley, Iron Belt and Montreal; felled trees and skidded logs in the
forest surrounding Brule and Brantwood; tended assembly lines in
factories at Milwaukee, Kenosha and Racine; and most importantly,
cleared and farmed the land in various areas of Wisconsin’s cutover
region.

Since the basic story of Finnish settlement and institutional
development in Wisconsin has been related by Kolehmainen (1944)
and Kolehmainen and Hill (1951), this article will look more
explicitly at the migration of Finns to the state and the agricultural
enclaves they formed. A brief overall sketch of Finnish settlement
activities will be given, but the major portion of the discussion will
focus upon two rural communities in Wisconsin: Oulu (pronounced
Oh-loo) and Owen-Withee. Separated by about 175 miles and settled
during different periods, the two enclaves illustrate some of the
geographic and temporal differences which characterized Wiscon¬
sin’s Finnish settlement picture. The primary sources for this
analysis include church records; the original manuscripts from the

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Federal and Wisconsin State Censuses; U.S. Federal Land Office
records; Finnish-American newspapers; and personal interviews
conducted by the author.

FINNISH-AMERICANS AND RURAL SETTLEMENT

With the exception of a small number of Swedish-speaking Finns,
primary Finnish settlement did not commence until the mid-1880s.
As such, the major movement of Finns into the state occurred some
twenty years after the initial bridgehead in America had been
established in the Copper Country of Northern Michigan during
1864 (Holmio, 1967). These first Finns, recruited to work as miners
in Michigan, eventually were followed by thousands of others. For
many Finns, Michigan’s mining communities served only as
temporary way stations in their search for an always elusive
American El Dorado. Many migrated to the rich iron ore fields of
northeastern Minnesota; some sought work in the copper, coal and
gold mines of the western United States; and others pursued a
variety of activities which ranged from logging and railroad
construction to the establishment of private businesses. Some
emigres returned to Finland, or made the trans-Atlantic crossing
several times. Of greatest significance, however, were the
agricultural activities initiated by Finns in several areas of the
Upper Midwest. During the latter half of the 1860s, a few small
Finnish agricultural enclaves were established on the prairies of
Minnesota (Kaups, 1966); but by the 1880s little prime agricultural
land remained for the vast majority of later Finnish immigrants.
Because of this, thousands of Finns acquired small acreages in the
Lake Superior cutover region6 and began the massive task of
clearing the land of stumps and boulders, draining and planting
fields, constructing farmsteads and developing a network of
Finnish oriented communities and cultural, social and economic
institutions.

Possessing an undeniable land hunger, many Finns who
retreated to the land during the nineteenth century were inspired
by the teaching of Lars Laestadius, a Swedish religious revivalist
who found many adherents in rural areas of western and northern
Finland— the primary area for early emigrants to America.
Espousing a life of piety and simplicity, the Laestadians (Apostolic
Lutherans) believed that the maintenance of traditional ethnic
values in a new country could be best accomplished by developing
rural communitarian enclaves (Kaups, 1975). By the turn of the

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Alanen — Rural Finns, Wisconsin

183

century, however, larger numbers of Finns began to emigrate from
less conservative areas of their homeland (Kero, 1973, 1974); an
appreciable number of these Finns had been politicized by an
oppressive Russian czarist government in Finland.7 Imbued with a
strong belief in socialism, many quickly formed political and social
organizations in America and began to call for higher wages and
better working conditions, most notably in the mining areas of
Michigan and Minnesota. By serving as leaders and participants in
several strikes, but especially the infamous conflicts on Minnesota’s
Mesabi Range in 1906 and 1916 and Michigan’s Copper Country
during 1913, a number of Finns were blacklisted by the mining and
steel corporations. Unable to secure work, many of them, as well as
other Finns who were affected by the strikes, lockouts and
shutdowns, moved to the woods and began to carve out a precarious
existence on forty to eighty acre parcels of land (Ollila, 1975).

Whether conservative or radical, none of the Finns could escape
the dangerous and often oppressive conditions they faced in the
mines and several other employment pursuits. Finnish language
newspapers solemnly announced the figures: a total of 63 Finns
dead in a mine disaster at Scofield, Utah during 1900; almost 100
killed while mining coal at Hannah, Wyoming in 1903; 146 deaths in
the mines of Houghton County, Michigan between 1900 and 1903;
ad infinitum (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951; Yli-Jokipii, 1971).
Although not quite as dangerous, conditions in logging camps were
far from idyllic. One woodsman working in northern Wisconsin
reported that at his place of employment the food was poor, the land
wet and the camp accessible only after a long trek through the
woods (Kolehmainen, 1946). Other lumberjacks died from
pneumonia or injuries when they did not receive adequate medical
attention in the camps. In a rather widely reported story of 1907,
four Finnish lumberjacks were jailed for fifteen days in
northeastern Minnesota when a camp operator claimed they had
left his place of employment before discharging a debt. The Finns
stated that their departure had been hastened because they were
given dull and rusty tools (an insult to a Finn!), had not been able to
secure adequate food and had been forced to sleep three to a bed.
They were jailed when the camp operator claimed they still owed
him 77 cents apiece for transportation to the camp.8 Small wonder
then, that thousands of Finns in America heeded the call: “Back to
the land!— ‘mother Earth will provide for all of us’ ” (Kolehmainen,
1946).

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FINNISH SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN

Although major Finnish settlement activities in Wisconsin did
not commence until the mid-1880s, some Finnish-born persons
entered the state at a considerably earlier date. Most of these
earliest pioneers, though born in Finland, either were of direct
Swedish stock or spoke Swedish as their mother tongue (i.e., Swede-
Finns). Undoubtedly the most important individual in this group
was Gustaf Unonius, a minister and author who was born in
Helsinki, Finland during 1810. Unonius later emigrated to
America and in 1841 founded Wisconsin’s first Swedish settlement
at Pine Lake (Nya Upsala). Located in Waukesha County, the
colony never prospered and by 1850 only a few settlers remained of
the dozen or so families who had heeded Unonius’ original call in
1841 (Nelson, 1943). During the 1870s and 1880s a small group of
Swede-Finns settled in the vicinity of Bailey’s Harbor; however,
this contingent, whose numbers never exceeded fifteen to seventeen
members, quickly intermingled and intermarried with Door
County’s Irish, German and Scandinavian population. Somewhat
later in the nineteenth century, a larger group of Swede-Finns
established farms in Wood County’s Sigel Township; and the
nucleus for a fairly large urban settlement was established in
Ashland during the same period. Although the Swede-Finns in
America identified more closely with Swedes than with Finns,
Silfversten (1931; cited by Nelson, 1943) aptly noted the dilemma
they faced; “They have their native country in common with the
Finns, their language in common with the Swedes and their
national history in common with both.”

When considering Wisconsin’s Finnish-speaking population,
Aine (1938) and Kolehmainen and Hill (1951) have noted that the
first permanent settlement was established in Douglas County
during 1885. According to U.S. Federal Land Office records, a few
Finns acquired homesteads during the summer of that year in what
are now Amnicon and Lakeside Townships (the Wentworth-Poplar
area). Since there were no roads into the area, provisions and
livestock were brought from Duluth and Superior in small boats;
after landing along the Lake Superior shoreline, the cattle, goods
and personal belongings were transported inland by the settlers.9
Once this initial node had been established, more extensive
settlement took place as the land seekers moved steadily eastward
through Douglas County and into Bayfield County (Fig. 1). By 1886

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185

FIGURE 1. Distribution of Foreign-Born Finns during 1905, and Major
Finnish Settlements in Wisconsin. With the exception of
Saxon and Owen-Withee, the basis for all major Finnish
settlements in Wisconsin had been established by 1905.
Source: Wisconsin State Census, 1905

Finns had settled in the Maple area, and during the following year
another group began to establish farms in the vicinity of Brule-
Waino. The settlement wave reached Bayfield County in 1888, with
the major Finnish concentrations emerging in what eventually
would become Oulu Township. During the late 1880s Finns also

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

established themselves in the City of Superior and in various
communities along Iron County’s Gogebic Range (Hurley, Montreal
and Iron Belt). While a large number of the Iron County Finns
worked as miners, they often acquired small acreages of land
proximate to the mines and engaged in part-time farming.
Eventually, larger farms were established just south of Hurley in a
relatively extensive area centering upon Van Buskirk and Oma
Township.

In the 1890’s, other Finns began to purchase land in some Ashland
County townships which had been forfeited by the Wisconsin
Central Railroad.10 Situated between Marengo and High Bridge, a
large number of the Finns who moved to this area in subsequent
years were attracted from both the Michigan and Wisconsin
sections of the Gogebic Range. The latter years of the nineteenth
century saw another important Finnish colony established at
Brantwood and Clifford-Tripoli. With new settlers and land agents
touting the virtues of the area, the settlement quickly became one of
the fastest growing communities in Finnish-America
(Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951).

With the exception of Saxon and Owen-Withee, by 1905 a nucleus
had been established for all major Finnish settlements in Wiscon¬
sin. In addition to the communities mentioned above, Finns were
situated in rural areas around Turtle Lake (Barron County);
Florence and Commonwealth (Florence County); Washburn
Township, Herbster and Bark Point (Bayfield County); Phelps-
Eagle River (Vilas County); and Amberg (Marinette County).
During 1902 some Finns began to work in the granite quarries of
Red Granite, and in the 1890s and early 1900s a limited migration
was underway to the cities of Ashland, Kenosha, Marinette, Merrill,
Milwaukee, Racine and Rhinelander.

Once permanent settlements had been established, various
institutions were developed by the Finns. Among the first to emerge
were the churches, with three Lutheran variants (Suomi Synod,
National Lutheran and Apostolic Lutheran) represented in many
communities. A rather unique organization which soon developed
in several of the older Finnish communities was the temperance
society. Often, though not always aligned with church interests,
most societies built halls where members could engage in social
activities as well as pledge their opposition to demon rum.

When a greater number of politically active Finns moved to the
state during the early twentieth century, socialist halls and locals
were established in most of Wisconsin’s Finnish-American com-

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187

munities. Many of these locals were rather short-lived, but at least
twenty-three were initiated between 1905 and 1914 (Kolehmainen
and Hill, 1951). A Finnish-sponsored institution with greater
longevity, however, has been the consumers’ cooperative. In
addition to the cooperative wholesale facility located in Superior,
some eighteen local cooperative stores and retail outlets were
developed by the Finns in Wisconsin prior to World War II. Two
stores organized in the Brantwood-Clifford area at the turn of the
century even were among the very first consumers’ cooperatives
developed by Finns in the United States (Alanen, 1975). Although
their numbers have dwindled and the original concepts and ideals
have changed, the most evident legacy of Finnish institutional
activity is provided by the churches and cooperative stores which
still can be found in northern Wisconsin.

OULU AND OWEN-WITHEE: A COMPARISON OF TWO
FINNISH COMMUNITIES

Oulu Background

As mentioned previously, Finnish settlement in the immediate
Oulu area commenced during 1888. Some thirty settlers had
claimed homesteads by the turn of the century, but the majority had
to purchase their small acreages from private agencies or
individuals (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951). By 1915 the rapid
development of Oulu Township11 had been noted by outside, non-
Finnish speaking observers; a highly laudatory article published in
the Wisconson Agriculturist , for example, observed that Finnish
immigrants had cleared the land in a few short years and that Oulu
Township already could boast of nine schools, three churches, a
socialist hall and a cooperative creamery and store. Stating that the
Finnish farmer had a sickening fear of debt and a passion for
cleanliness, dairy cows and dynamite (to blast stumps), the writer
went on to exclaim:

We must admit their adaptability to pioneer conditions. They are
superior in intelligence, physical strength, patience and per¬
sistence. They are self contained and somewhat apart from the
rest, but they are the makers of history as it will be written of this
new empire.12

While the Oulu Township portion of the “new empire” supported
close to 1,100 residents by 1920, a steady population decline

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

occurred thereafter (by 1940 there were 910 residents, and by 1970
only 505 persons.) Oulu Township, as such, reflects the agricultural
evolution of the entire cutover region. Envisioned as a new frontier
for rural settlement at the turn of the century, the cutover was the
target for recruitment by private companies and public agencies;
special efforts were made to attract European immigrants who,
unlike native Americans, “. . . would devote all their time to
farming” (Helgeson,1962). Although the Finns persisted in their
efforts to a greater extent than other groups, and indeed were still
seeking land in the 1920s, many of the newly established farms were
abandoned during agricultural recessions; other settlers ceased
their efforts once it was recognized that at least twelve to thirteen
years of steady effort were required to develop anything even
approaching a productive farm (Hartman and Black, 1931).13
Differences between the bounteous potential of the region as
envisioned by the promoter, and reality as encountered by the
settler often were quite striking. One account written during 1893,
for example, claimed that farm life in the north woods of Wisconsin
might not be entirely pleasurable, but neither was it all drudgery.
The observer went on to state that by cutting down a few trees,
dynamiting the stumps and dropping some seed potatoes into the
pits, an “enormous return” would be assured.14 By way of contrast,
the actual back-breaking and slow task of carving out an existence
in the cutover region was tellingly stated by an early Finnish settler
in the vicinity of Oulu:

With the snow still in the ground, in the spring, the whole family
worked to clear the brush. We cleared out stones and blasted
stumps. With the stones and stumps, we built the fence. The
second year, we had three acres of potatoes to show the world.
Everyone worked as hard as anyone can work (Doby, 1960).

Owen- W i th ee Background

The movement of Finns into the Owen-Withee area began around
1910, or more than twenty years after the Oulu Township
development. Because of this rather late date, these Finns were not
able to secure homesteads; however, the sale of land to immigrants
in this section of northern Clark County comprises one of the more
interesting segments of Wisconsin’s Finnish-American settlement
history.

After the John S. Owen Lumber Company had harvested most of
the marketable timber in the Owen-Withee area, the company’s

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189

holdings were put up for sale. National advertising campaigns were
initiated, and the Owens sought to promote agricultural endeavors
on their cutover land by . . selling on easy terms to those who gave
promise of permanence.”15 One person, however, was responsible
for bringing the largest number of Finns to Owen-Withee: land
agent John A. Pelto. Bilingual agents such as Pelto often were hired
by land holding companies, be they railroads, timber operations or
speculators, to assist in the disposal of property. Undoubtedly
finding it easier and more profitable to sell land to their foreign-
born counterparts than to clear and farm the soil themselves, the
agents used their powers of persuasion and hyperbole to entice
settlers. Pelto, acting as an agent for the Owen Company, placed
large advertisements in Finnish-American newspapers and
journals which exclaimed: “Become a farmer in a place where there
are possibilities — Owen, Wisconsin. . .” (Fig. 2). The ads praised the

HHX

Tulkaa Farmareiksi

sinne missa siihen on

j MAHDOLLISUUKSIA

Owen, Wisconsin issa, on yksi parhainipia farmiseutuja, jossa maanviljelyksella on jo kavtan-
| niissa kyetty nayttaniiiiin, etta se siclla menestyy. Paitsi suurempaa vieras/kielistii asutusta, on jo
\ noin 500 suonialaista ostaneet maita, joista useita satoja jo asunkin, osa liyvirikin parjiiavinii.

| Oweniin paaaee viitta eri rautatieta, joten se ei ole sydanmaawa.

\\ Owenissa on kaikkiaan 1 8 juustotehdastakin 12 :sta mailin alalia ; on pickelsien valmistuslaitos,

’neijereita, karjan ja lihan valityslaitoksia y. m., farmarien kontrollin alia olevia jalostuslaitoksia.

A Hyvat tiet ja koulut. — Tasaiaet maat ja helpot puhdistaa ja viljella.

m Hinnat vaihtelevat viidestatoiata dollarista ylospain, ollen ne verrattain halvat maan laatuun

A, ja aseman edullisuuteen nahden.

Q Maksuehdot kohtuulliaet.

r| Lahempia tietoja varten kirjoittakaa osoitteella:

I John E. Pelto,

FIGURE 2. Tulkaa Farmareiksi— “Become a Farmer” Ads such as this,
praising the attributes and agricultural potential 9f the
Owen-Withee area in Wisconsin, appeared in many Finnish
language newspapers during the second decade of the
twentieth century. Source: Pelto ja Koti (Superior, Wis.),
March 1, 1917

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

area’s level terrain and the ease with which land could be cleared
and planted; the five railroad connections which made the
community something more than just a “backwoods” location; the
eighteen cheese factories located within a distance of twelve miles;
the pickle factory, creameries, good roads and schools; and the
expanding Finnish community itself. All of this, Pelto pointed out,
was available for prices which began at fifteen dollars an acre.

Many Finns could not resist such mellifluous phrases and by 1920
Clark County contained a Finnish-born population of about 280
residents. Situated along the southern rim of the cutover area, the
agricultural attributes of the “Clover Belt” did indeed prove to be
significantly better than in Finnish settlement areas farther to the
north. Despite such agricultural advantages, the arduous task of
removing stumps and clearing fields still awaited the first settlers.
One articulate second generation Finnish-American, for example,
recalled that when her father was clearing land, he sometimes
would stop work, wipe his brow, shake his fist in the air and shout;
Tdmdkd on Pellon Jussin Amerika! (“So this is John Pelto’s
America!”). Nevertheless, once land clearing had been ac¬
complished and full-scale farming established, the Owen-Withee
settlement emerged as the most prosperous of Wisconsin’s larger
Finnish communities. Although curses and vitriolic comments
often were directed at land agents, in the Owen-Withee area John
Pelto apparently had . . endeared himself in the hearts of his
countrymen” (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951).

Finnish Backgrounds of Oulu and Owen-Withee Residents

Recent studies by other investigators have sought to determine
whether certain foreign-born groups (primarily Swedes) that
settled in the Midwest formed culturally homogeneous enclaves
(Ostegren, 1973; Rice, 1973). The studies have shown that at least in
some cases, immigrants from relatively contained areas of Sweden
did develop identifiable settlements in America; this, in turn,
indicates that such immigrants undoubtedly shared a particular
cultural uniqueness and heritage. Large-scale Swedish emigration
to America, of course, began at an earlier date than did major
Finnish migration; hence, many Swedes (and other early im¬
migrant groups) were able to settle directly in America on
inexpensive and often fertile land. Very few Finns could partake of
these opportunities. Not only did the later arrival date mean that

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Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

191

Finnish agricultural endeavors were limited primarily to the
nation’s cutover region, but a large number of Finns from all areas
of their homeland first intermixed in mining and other areas of the
United States. Thus, the direct transfer of people from individual
Finnish communes to specific American areas was very uncommon.

In spite of these conditions, it still was possible that some Finns
formed relatively homogeneous enclaves in America— even after
they had lived in this country for some time. Such occurrences
would have been more likely during the nineteenth century when
some homesteads still were available and when a number of
immigrants from specific Finnish areas could have selected
contiguous or proximate areas of land. Since few homesteads with
any agricultural potential were available after 1900, it could be
hypothesized that Finnish-American settlements formed after this
date would represent a much broader geographic cross-section of
the Finnish population spectrum.16

To explore these hypotheses in a preliminary manner, the Finnish
birthfields for a sample of Oulu and Owen-Withee residents were
investigated. Samples from both communities have been used, since
there is no complete record of all Finns who moved to or resided in
the two communities. Most information was derived from church
records, especially those of the Suomi Synod, the American
transplant of the Finnish State Church. Although the quantity and
accuracy of information varied from congregation to congregation,
the records of American Suomi Synod churches were relatively
analogous to the meticulous church files maintained in Finland.
The records used in this study generally included the date and place
of birth, baptism, confirmation and marriage; date of arrival in
America and the local community; and former place of residence in
America. However, rather few of the professionally trained
National Lutheran’s clergy and certainly very few of the Apostolic
Lutheran’s lay ministry were thoroughly acquainted with the
record keeping systems; hence, much less information could be
derived for members of these two church bodies. In addition, it must
be pointed out that many Finnish immigrants, especially during the
post-1900 era when there was an array of political and other groups
from which to choose, did not join any church (Kero, 1975).

Given these limitations, it was necessary to seek information
other than ecclesiastical. Some secondary documents (e.g., Ilmonen,
1926) did provide data, but the most useful additional information
was supplied by second generation Finnish-Americans living in

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Oulu and Owen-Withee. By combining; the information from these
various sources, it was possible to develop complete or partial
background data on 106 adult Finns in Oulu and 113 in Owen-
Withee. The years covered by the samples were between 1889-1929
for Oulu and from 1911-1928 for Owen-Withee.

A large proportion of Oulu Township’s population left their
homeland during relatively early stages of Finnish emigration;
hence, the greatest number of the township’s Finnish-born
residents came from the two provinces which sent the largest
number of emigrants to America: Vaasa and Oulu.17 Two
birthfields are indicated: one, a rather widely dispersed area
(radius=62 km), centering on Lapua, Kauhava and several adjacent
communes in the Province of Vaasa, and the other, a much more
concentrated pattern (radius=35 km), focusing on the communes of
Lohtaja, Kalajoki and Alavieska in the Province of Oulu (Fig. 3).
Thirty-four percent of the immigrants considered in the Oulu
Township sample came from the former birthfield, and twenty-
eight percent from the latter. It must be noted, however, that the
birthfield in Vaasa Province served as the point of departure for
twelve percent of all Finnish emigres to America; whereas that in
Oulu Province was under one percent.18 Although the largest
number of residents in the Oulu Township sample came from these
two general areas of Finland, undoubtedly those born in the three
communes of Oulu Province formed the township’s most
homogeneous group.

For the place of birth for Finns in the Owen-Withee sample, the
geographic dispersion is much greater (Fig. 4). The majority were
born in the western area of the country, but this pattern also reflects
the overall Finnish emigration picture. Some Owen-Withee
residents, however, hailed from other areas of Finland, indicating,
of course, that some emigrated at a later date than did their Oulu
Township counterparts. As hypothesized before, it seems unlikely
that Finnish- American enclaves formed after 1900 had any major
linkages with specific communal areas in Finland.

Migration within America to Oulu and Owen-Withee

Regardless of the rural area they eventually selected in the
United States, virtually all Finns had to work at other occupations
in the New World before they could secure the means to purchase
land.19 As stated previously, factors such as dangerous employment
and labor unrest and conflict in the mining areas contributed to this

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

193

190

KILOMETERS

Oulu Township,
Wisconsin

Number of Persons

FIGURE 3. Place of Birth in Finland for Oulu Township Immigrants. The
largest number of immigrants came from a grouping of
communes in the two adjacent Finnish provinces of Oulu and
Vaasa. Sources: Church Records, Ilmonen (1926), Historical
Sketches of the Town of Oulu, and Personal Interviews

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 4. Place of Birth in Finland for Owen-Withee Immigrants.

Settled at a later date than Oulu Township, the immigrants
who established themselves in the Owen-Withee area came
from a relatively wide area of Finland. Sources: Church
Records, Ilmonen (1926), and Personal Interviews

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

195

back-to-the-land phenomenon. Although the movements considered
in this study are based upon population samples only, the migration
of Finns to Oulu and Owen-Withee does depict two representative
threads in a much larger Finnish-American settlement fabric
(Figs. 5, 6, 7).

FIGURE 5. Prior American Residence of Finnish-Born Residents in Oulu
Township, 1889-1929. The largest number of Finns who
moved to Oulu Township came from the Gogebic Iron Range
of Wisconsin and Michigan and from Northeastern
Minnesota. Sources: See Fig. 3.

As could be expected, the greatest number of Finns who moved to
Oulu and Owen-Withee came from the mining districts of the Lake
Superior area. The magnitude and timing of the moves, however,
varied significantly. During the early years of settlement in Oulu
Township the largest number migrated from the Gogebic Iron
Range, with lesser numbers coming from Michigan’s Copper
County and Marquette Iron Range. At the turn of the century,
migration from the iron mining districts of Michigan continues, but
was supplemented by an approximately equivalent number of
arrivals from Minnesota. Many of the Minnesotans came from the
Mesabi Iron Range, although several individuals migrated from the
large Finnish colony centered in Duluth. During this entire period,
a small but steady stream of land seekers also emanated from
Superior; and a few from New England, Pennsylvania, Ohio, some

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Superior

MINNESOTA

Huron

Owen • Withee

Number of Persons

WISCONSIN

MICHIGAN

IOWA

INDIANA

FIGURE 6. Prior American Residence of Finnish-Born Residents in the
Owen-Withee Area, 1911-1928. Before moving to the Owen-
Withee area, many Finns lived in Northern Michigan and
DeKalb, Illinois. Sources: See Fig. 4

FIGURE 7. Number of Finnish Family Units Migrating Annually to
Oulu Township and the Owen-Withee area, 1889-1929.
Sources: See Figs. 3 and 4.

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

197

of the western states and a few Wisconsin communities. Overall
there was a rather constant stream of F inns moving- from M ichigan
to Oulu Township between 1889 and 1914. Migration from
Minnesota, however, peaked during the years following the 1906
Mesabi Strike; of the twenty Minnesota Finns counted in the
sample, more than one half arrived during the 1906-1910 interim.

When considering the previous American residence of Finns who
moved to Owen-Withee, it is clear that the vast majority came from
northern Michigan. Most of these individuals settled in the area
during the 1911-1919 interim, the period of greatest sales
promotion by the Owen Lumber Company and land agent John
Pelto. As with Oulu Township, a significant amount of migration
originated in the Gogebic Range with the greatest number coming
from Wakefield, and from the Marquette Range city of Ishpeming.
When compared to Oulu Township, the number of Finns arriving
from Minnesota was much smaller. Although some migrated from
Sparta, Ely and a few other Minnesota settlements, the availability
of cutover lands in their home state undoubtedly lessened land
hunger for Wisconsin property. One community outside the normal
purview of Finnish-America, however, did contribute substantially
to the Owen-Withee total: DeKalb, Illinois. Unlike urban Finns in
Milwaukee, Kenosha and Racine who never were enticed to leave
their relatively high paying industrial jobs for rural areas, a rather
large proportion of DeKalb’s Finnish-American community heeded
John Pelto’s clarion call: “Become a farmer. . .”

The timing of migration to Owen-Withee requires final mention.
Migration activities peaked during 1914, the year of Pelto’s most
extensive promotional efforts; however, this also was the year
following the Michigan Copper Country Strike. While it might have
been expected that many jobless Finns in the Copper Country would
migrate to Owen-Withee, relatively few individuals considered in
this study chose this course of action.20 Instead, it was Finns from
the Marquette Range who most vigorously sought land in the Owen-
Withee area. It is still possible, nevertheless, that the migration
decisions of several Marquette Range inhabitants were influenced
by the conflict and carnage which occurred throughout the Copper
Country during 1913 and 1914.

CONCLUSION

Whether analyzed as an individual experience or as a collective
phenomenon, the migration process generally involves a complex

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

web of social, economic, political and/or psychological variables.
The migration regimen for many Finns who moved to the Upper
Midwest consisted of two major phases. The first involved the
journey from Finland to America, followed immediately by a period
of employment in one or more communities or areas.21 The second
phase occurred when the Finns left the mines, lumber camps and
urban areas to pursue life as farmers, primarily in the cutover
region. Whether this move was undertaken voluntarily or under
duress, the settlement and institutional activities of these in¬
dividuals constituted a distinguishing feature of the Finnish
experience in America.

Given the amount of information available, it appears that the
origins of a significant number of Oulu Township’s settlers can be
traced to two general areas or birthfields in Finland. Since the
birthfield located in the Province of Vaasa was a major area for
many Finnish emigrants, other Finnish-American settlements also
claim significant numbers of residents coming from this area of the
homeland. However, the other birthfield, focusing upon three
communes in the Province of Oulu, sent a larger proportion of its
emigres to Oulu Township than might have been anticipated. The
source area pattern for the Owen-Withee community, on the other
hand, was much more dispersed and reflected the broader
geographic base which characterized general Finnish migration
during the early twentieth century.

Before too much is made of the seemingly homogeneous group
that settled in Oulu Township, further work should be undertaken
in other early Finnish-American settlements. It is possible that the
transfer of cultural traits (e.g., architecture, cuisine, dialects, etc.)
might be studied more effectively if the specific communal or home
area of the immigrants is known and considered. Nevertheless,
many distinguishing cultural traits and nuances undoubtedly
blended together or were modified in some way once Finns came in
contact with large numbers of other Finnish natives, other
immigrant groups and Americans. As has been pointed out by
several observers (e.g., Jaatinen, 1972), most rural Finnish
communities in America were distinguished by their overall
cultural cohesion and homogeneity. Seeking “. . .to create per¬
manency amidst an impermanent environment” (Kaups, 1975),
many Finns, regardless of their place of origin in Finland or
political persuasion in America, participated collectively in the
development of rural communities within a new and sometimes
hostile land.

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

NOTATIONS

199

1. This quote, describing conditions in Northern Michigan, has
been attributed to J. H. Jasberg, an effervescent Finnish land
agent who was active throughout the Lake Superior area
(Wargelin, 1924).

2. These figures, and those for Michigan and Minnesota, have
been derived from the Federal Censuses for 1900 and 1920. Any
numerical ranking of the total foreign-born population by
country of birth or ethnic background has to be undertaken
with a great deal of caution. During 1900, for example, Poles
were listed by their place of birth: Austria, Germany, Russia or
unknown. Canadians, on the other hand, were divided into
French and English speaking groups. Although often thought
to be an ethnically homogeneous group, the Finns were
distinguished on the basis of their native or mother tongue. In
1920, about 12 percent of the Finnish-born population listed
Swedish as their mother tongue, and just under one percent
claimed Lappish and other languages; the remainder were
Finnish speakers.

3. The name of the Central Cooperative Exchange was changed to
the Central Cooperative Wholesale in 1930 and to Central
Cooperatives, Inc., during 1956.

4. 196Jf. Yearbook , Central Cooperatives, Inc. (Superior, Wis:
Midland Cooperatives, Inc., 1964), p. 37.

5. Whereas the sauna has become a popular institution in
America, the riihi — a building for the drying, threshing and
winnowing of grain— is less well known. For lucid descriptions
of these two vernacular building types see Kaups (1972; 1976).

6. Although the Finn who acquired a homestead could claim up to
160 acres of land, many did not; the majority bought 40 to 80
acre parcels from land agents, land companies and other
parties.

7. Finland was a Grand Duchy of Russia from 1809 to 1917.

8. Duluth News Tribune , March 4, 1907, p. 5.

9. One account of early settlement in the area reported the exploits
of two Finns who dragged a sled, ladened with a heavy stove,
from Superior to Lakeside Township during the dead of winter.
A severe blizzard slowed them down, whereupon they were
forced to spend the entire night making tracks through the
snow so the stove would not tip off the sled when they pulled it
(Aine, 1938).

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

10. For a description of the land fever which gripped Ashland
during this period, see the account in the “Annual Edition” of
the Ashland Daily Press , May 1893, p. 88.

11. Oulu Township was organized and named largely through the
efforts of Andrew Lauri, a tailor born in Finland’s Oulu
Province. Since local residents felt that Bayfield County
officials did not devote enough time and money to the western
area of the county, they petitioned to form their own township.
After some procrastination by the County Board, Oulu
Township was organized in December 1904, with Andrew
Lauri serving as the first chairman. See Historical Sketches of
the Town of Oulu: Bayfield County, Wisconsin, 1880-1956{ Oulu,
Wis.: Sunnyside Homemakers’ Club, 1956); and Amerikan
Uutiset (New York Mills, Minn.), Sept. 10, 1976, p.4.

12. “Our Most Thickly Populated Township,” Wisconsin
Agriculturist, Vol. 39 (Feb. 1915), p. 8.

13. For a broader summary of agricultural conditions in the
cutover region and Oulu Township, I am indebted to R. Zeitlin’s
“The Rankinen House,” unpublished manuscript prepared for
the Old World Wisconsin Research Office (Madison: State
Historical Society of Wisconsin), Oct. 26, 1976.

14. “Annual Edition,” Ashland Daily Press, May 1893, p. 88.

15. The Book of the Years: The Story of the Men who Made Clark
County (Neillsville, Wis.: Clark County Press, 1953), p. 23.

16. Also, emigration activity was more extensive throughout
Finland during the post-1900 period.

17. Between 1870 and 1914, approximately 16 percent of all
Finnish immigrants came from the Province of Oulu and 49
percent from the Province of Vaasa (Kero, 1974).

18. The overall figures for the communes have been derived from
Appendix A of Kero (1974).

19. Of the individuals considered in the two samples, only three
males and three females came directly from Finland to Oulu
Township; and one male and one female made the direct
crossing to Owen-Withee.

20. During and after the strike, a large number of Finns from the
Copper Country moved to Detroit and rural areas of Michigan
(Holmio, 1967).

21. A striking facet of Finnish-American settlement was the rather
considerable amount of geographic mobility displayed by many
immigrants. These moves were not undertaken randomly,
however, for a communications system consisting of letters,

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

201

newspapers and person-to-person contacts directed Finns to
new areas and employment opportunities in America.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aine, K. Sept 15,1938. Lehtien Amerikan eramaaraivauksesta. Tyovaen
Osuustoimintalehti (Superior, Wis.): 16.

Alanen, A. R. 1975. The development and distribution of Finnish
consumers’ cooperatives in Michigan, Minnesota and Wisconsin, 1903-
1973. In The Finnish Experience in the Western Great Lakes Region: New
Perspectives, M. G. Kami, M. E. Kaups and D. J. Ollila, eds. Institute for
Migration, Turku, Finland: 103-130.

Doby, H. R.. 1960. A study of social change and social disorganization in a
Finnish rural community. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California,
Berkeley.

Hartman, W. A., and J. D. Black. 1931. Economic Aspects of Land
Settlement in the Cut-Over Region of the Great Lakes States. U. S. D. A.
Circ. No. 160: U.S. Dept Agriculture, Washington, D. C.

Helgeson, A. 1962. Farms in the Cutover: Agricultural Settlement in
Northern Wisconsin. State Hist. Soc. Wisconsin, Madison.

Holmio, A.K.E. 1967. Michiganin Suomalaisten Historia. Michiganin
Suomalaisten Historia-Seura, Hancock, Mich.

Ilmonen, S. 1926. Amerikan Suomalaisten Historia. Vol. III. Suom.-Lut.
Kustannusliikkeen Kirjapainossa, Hancock, Mich.

Jaatinen, S.T. 1972. Colonization and retreat in the cut-over lands of the
Lake Superior region. In International Geography, 1972, W. P. Adams
and F. M. Helleiner, eds. University of Toronto Press. Toronto, 1972:
1320-1322.

Kaups, M. E. 1966. ‘Suuri Lansi’ — or the Finnish discovery of America.
Ph.D. dissertation, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis.

- 1972. A Finnish riihi in Minnesota. Jour. Minn. Acad. Sci.

38: 66-71.

- 1975. The Finns in the copper and iron ore mines of the

western Great Lakes region, 1864-1905: some preliminary observations.
In The Finnish Experience in the Western Great Lakes Region: New

202

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Perspectives, M. G. Kami, M. E. Kaups and D. J. Ollila, eds. Inst.
Migration, Turku, Finland: 55-89.

_ 1976. A Finnish savusauna in Minnesota. Minn. Hist. 45:

11-20.

Kero, R. 1973. The roots of Finnish-American left-wing radicalism. Pub.
Inst. Gen. Hist., Univ. Turku, Finland. No. 5: 45-55.

- - 1974. Migration from Finland to North America in the

Years between the United States Civil War and the First World War.
Inst. Migration, Turku, Finland.

- — 1975. The social origins of the left-wing radicals and

“church Finns” among Finnish immigrants in North America. Pub. Inst.
Gen. Hist., Univ. Turku, Finland. No. 7: 55-62.

Kolehmainen, J. I. 1944. The Finns of Wisconsin. Wis. Mag. Hist. 27: 391-
399.

_ Feb. 2, 1946. Takaisiin maalle!— ‘Maaemosemeidatkaikki

elattaa.’ Tyovaen Osuustoimintalehti (Superior, Wis.): 5 and 8.

_ _ _ _ and G. W. Hill, 1951. Haven in the Woods: The Story of the

Finns in Wisconsin. State Hist. Soc. Wisconsin, Madison.

Nelson H. 1943. The Swedes and the Swedish Settlements in North America.
Carl Bloms Boktryckeri, Lund, Sweden.

Ollila, D. 1975. From socialism to industrial unionism (IWW): social factors
in the emergence of left-labor radicalism among Finnish workers on the
Mesabi, 1911-19. In The Finnish Experience in the Western Great Lakes
Region: New Perspectives, M. G. Kami, M. E. Kaups and D. J. Ollila, eds.
Inst. Migration, Turku, Finland: 156-171.

Ostegren, R. C. 1973. Cultural homogeneity and population stability among
Swedish immigrants in Chisago County. Minn. Hist. 43: 255-269.

Rice, J. G. 1973. Patterns of Ethnicity in a Minnesota County, 1880-1905.
Geog. Rpt. 4. Dept. Geog., Univ. Umea, Sweden.

Silfversten, C. J. 1931. Finlandssvenskarna i Amerika. Deras materiella
och andliga stravanden. Duluth, Minnesota.

Wargelin, J. 1924. The Americanization of the Finns. Finnish Lutheran
Book Concern, Hancock, Mich.

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

203

Yli-Jokipii, P. 1971. The cultural geography of Kaleva, a Finnish
immigrant community in Michigan. Acta Geographica 22: 1-24.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Research support was provided by the College of Agricultural
and Life Sciences, University of Wisconsin-Madison, and by the
Immigration History Research Center, University of Minnesota.
The author is indebted to Dr. R. Michael Berry (currently with the
Turku School of Economics in Finland) for his assistance in
gathering background information for this paper, and to the
following individuals for the insights and help they provided: Dr.
Matti Kaups (University of Minnesota, Duluth), Dr. Arthur
Puotinen (Suomi College, Hancock, Michigan), Dr. Richard Zeitlin
(State Historical Society of Wisconsin) and Prof. William Tishler
(University of Wisconsin, Madison). A special vote of appreciation is
extended to the many Finnish-Americans in Wisconsin who
contributed a great amount of revelant information.

GROWTH PATTERNS, FOOD HABITS AND SEASONAL
DEPTH DISTRIBUTION OF YELLOW PERCH
IN SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN

Wayne F. Schaefer

University Wisconsin
— Waukesha

ABSTRACT

Yellow perch, Perea flavescens (Mitchill), entered shallow water
(9 m) about June and spent the remainder of the summer there.
About the month of October they moved to water of intermediate
depth (18-27 m) where they spent the winter. The summer diet of
adult yellow perch consisted principally of slimy sculpins, Cottus
cognatus (55% by volume) and alewives, Alosa pseudoharengus (43%
by volume). Perch grew to the following average total lengths
during their first seven years of life: 77, 138, 175, 200, 228, 247 and
269 mm.

INTRODUCTION

The yellow perch, Perea flavescens (Mitchill), is important to both
commercial and sport fishermen of Lake Michigan. It is a native of
Lake Michigan and at one time was very abundant.

Previous researchers have studied various aspects of the ecology
of the yellow perch in the Great Lakes including their distribution
(Wells 1968; Smith 1968), food habits (Ewers 1933; Price 1963;
Brazo 1973; Rasmussen 1973), and growth patterns (Hile and Jobes
1941 and 1942; Jobes 1952; Joeris 1957; El-Zarka 1959).

Specific objectives of the following study included the determina¬
tion of their seasonal depth distribution, their food habits, and their
growth patterns.

METHODS

This study was performed in the southwestern portion of Lake
Michigan just north of the Milwaukee harbor. Four collection
transects were established from which yellow perch were taken
between May, 1974 and April, 1975. Data from these transects were
combined for all calculations.

204

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch , Lake Michigan

205

All yellow perch were collected in 152 x 2 m experimental gill
nets of mesh sizes 1.27, 1.90, 2.54, 3.81 and 5.08 cm. Each mesh panel
was 30.5 m long. Starting in May, 1974, three gill nets were
simultaneously set on one of the four collecting transects. The nets
were anchored to the bottom in 9, 18, and 37 m of water,
approximately 0.8, 1.6 and 6.4 km from shore respectively.
Beginning in August, 1974, two additional nets, one at 14 m deep
(1.2 km from shore) and one at 27 m deep (3.2 km from shore), were
set with each collection. In general the nets were set at about 1400 hr
and pulled at about 0900 hr the following day.

Catch per unit effort in terms of yellow perch collected per net-
hour was calculated by dividing the number of yellow perch
captured in a given net by the number of hours required to make the
catch.

Each fish collected was weighed to the nearest tenth of a gram
and its length measured to the nearest millimeter. Scales were
taken from the area below the spiny portion of the dorsal fin and
above the lateral line. Stomachs were removed and preserved in
10% formalin.

All yellow perch used in the food habits portion of this study were
obtained between the months of May and September, 1974, and
were in at least their second season of growth. An actual count of all
invertebrates ingested was made and their volume determined by
water displacement.

Fish found in the yellow perch stomachs which could not be
immediately identified or measured to standard length were placed
in KOH, stained with alizarin-red and preserved in glycerine. The
original length of the prey species (alewife or slimy sculpin), before
ingestion, was then reconstructed from the known lengths of the
skeletal portions still intact. Measurements of whole skeletons
showed 20% of the alewife standard length to consist of the head.
Seventy-five percent of the alewife standard length was occupied by
the 47 vertebrae. The remaining 5% of the alewife standard length
consisted of the urostyle. Similar measurements for slimy sculpins
showed the head to occupy 25% of the standard length, the 31
vertebrae to occupy 65% of the standard length and the urostyle to
occupy the remaining 10% of the standard length.

Volume vs length curves for alewives and slimy sculpins were
generated from whole specimens and used to assign a volume for
each reconstructed prey length. This procedure permitted direct
comparison between the original volumes of the ingested prey

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

species without having to compensate for differential digestion
rates.

Several scales from each specimen were cleaned, mounted and
read twice at a magnification of 42X. Growth with age was then
calculated from the annuli measurements, according to the
following proportion Lj = (Si ) (LJ ) / (Si ) where Lj = the
calculated total length of the fish at the time of the formation of the
ith annulus; S i = the distance from the focus to the ith annulus; L t
= the total length of the fish; and St = the length of the whole scale
from focus to posterior margin.

In temperate waters yellow perch complete 100% of the season’s
growth by November (Jobes 1952). Therefore, fish captured
between 1 January and the formation of a new annulus were
credited with an annulus at the edge of their scales. As observed in
other waters (Jobes 1952; Joeris 1957) most yellow perch of
southwestern Lake Michigan added a new annulus during the
months of June and July.

Coefficients of condition by age and sex were calculated
according to the formula K = ( 105) ( W) /(L3) where K = the coefficient
of condtion; W = weight in grams; and L = the total length in
millimeters.

The parameters “a” and “b”of the length-weight relationship, W =
(a) (Lb ), were estimated by the method of least squares from the log
form of the equation, log W = log a + (b) (log L). In the above equation
W = weight in grams and L = total length in millimeters.

Distribution

Of the 714 yellow perch captured in this study, 698 were taken in
water depths of 18 m or less. The preferred water depth for the
yellow perch captured in this study was water of shallow to
intermediate depth.

The seasonal depth distribution of yellow perch followed a
definite pattern as determined from catch statistics (Table 1).
Between the months of October and March they were more readily
captured in water 18 m deep than in shallower waters of 9 or 14 m.
In May and June they moved from intermediate depths (18 m) to
shallow depths (9 m). Between the months of May and September
the highest catch per unit effort figures were registered in water 9
m deep. The main outward movement of yellow perch-in the fall took
place in the month of October.

A summer preference for shallow water and a winter preference

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch , Lake Michigan

207

TABLE 1. CATCH PER UNIT EFFORT IN TERMS OF
NUMBERS OF PERCH CAPTURED PER NET-
HOUR IN EXPERIMENTAL GILL NETS FROM
MAY, 1974, TO APRIL, 1975, IN SOUTHWESTERN
LAKE MICHIGAN.

9 m

14 m

Depth of Collection

18 m 27 m

37 m

197U

May

0.54

0.28

0.01

June

2.69

0.18

0

July

1.90

0.10

0

August

0.49

0.29

0

0.01

0

September

0.62

0.38

0.04

0

0

October

0.01

0.31

0.72

0.06

0

November

0

0.08

0.22

0

0

1975

January

0

0

0.38

0

0

February

0

0.10

0.15

0

0

March

0.03

0.08

0.13

0.04

0

April

0.24

0

0

0

0

for deeper water has also been observed for other species of Lake
Michigan fish (Wells 1968). Wells suggested that fish may move into
deeper water in the winter because they seek the warmer
temperatures found there. Such a mechanism may also obtain for
the movement of yellow perch to even deeper water in the winter.

Food Habits

Only 1 1 1 of the 531 yellow perch stomachs examined in this study
contained food. The other stomachs were either empty or had
regurgitated their contents during capture of the fish.

An examination of those stomachs containing food indicated that
adult yellow perch in southwestern Lake Michigan were very
piscivorous. Ninety-eight percent of the reconstructed volume of the

208

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

stomach contents consisted of either slimy sculpins, Cottus cognat us
(55%), or alewives, Alosa pseudoharengus (43%), (Table 2).

TABLE 2. SUMMER DIET OF 111 ADULT YELLOW PERCH
TAKEN FROM SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICH¬
IGAN.

Food Item

Frequency

of

Occurrence

% total
volume

(Reconstructed)

% by N

%

umbel1

No.

Found

Sculpins
(Cottus cognatus)

48%

(53 stomachs)

55%

76%

103

Alewives

(Alosa pseudoharengus)

29%

(32 stomachs)*

43%

23%

31**

Other

35%

(38 stomachs)

2%

NA

NA

includes stomachs in which the only means of alewife identification was
scales.

**Does not include stomachs in which the only means of alewife
identification was scales.

By number, 76% of the forage fish found in yellow perch stomachs
were slimy sculpins, and alewives 23%. One ninespine stickleback,
Pungitius pungitius , was also found. Slimy sculpins occurred in 48%
of all stomachs containing food whereas alewives occurred in 29% of
the stomachs.

Only 2% of the reconstructed volume of the stomach contents
consisted of food other than slimy sculpins or alewives. That 2%
contained the following items: (1) larval insects (0.76% total volume)
— mostly caddis flies of the family Phryganeidae, also midge larvae
and several unidentifiable species of insect larvae; (2) fish eggs
(0.60% by volume) — mostly alewife; (3) cladocera (0.37%); (4)
unidentifiable fish remains (0.17%); (5) one ninespine stickleback
(0.10%).

Although food other than slimy sculpins and alewives
represented only a small portion by volume of the stomach contents
it did occur in 35% of the 111 stomachs containing food and therefore
accounted for a considerable portion of the forage activity.

The diet of male yellow perch differed somewhat from the diet of
female yellow perch, although not statistically significant at & -
0.05, (Table 3). A rather high percentage (48%) of the females with
food in their stomachs had consumed alewives. Only 24% of the

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch , Lake Michigan

209

TABLE 3. FREQUENCY OF STOMACHS CONTAINING
VARIOUS FOOD ITEMS IN THE SUMMER DIET
OF ADULT YELLOW PERCH IN SOUTHWEST¬
ERN LAKE MICHIGAN. THE DIET IS SPECIFIED
BY SEX, DEPTH OF COLLECTION AND MONTH
OF COLLECTION.

Number of stomachs
was observed

in which the specified food item

Number

of

Stomachs Sculpins

Alewives

Other**

Sculpins

Other**

Alewives

&

Other**

Males

82 35

18

20

7

2

Females*

21 7

10

3

1

0

Sex unknown

7 1

1

4

1

0

30 ft water

96

37

28

22

7

2

45 ft water

5

4

0

1

0

0

60 ft water

9

2

1

4

2

0

May

10

2

5

3

0

0

June

24

5

11

8

0

0

July

45

24

5

11

4

1

August

10

4

1

2

2

1

September

21

8

7

3

3

0

*The stomach of one female perch taken from 30 ft of water in June
contained both sculpins and alewives. For the purpose of statistical
analysis it was omitted from this table.

**“Other” refers to all food items other than sculpins and alewives.

males had alewives in their stomachs. The higher female utilization
of alewives could be caused by several factors. The females grow
faster than the males and at an earlier point in life could prey on
alewives, which on the average are larger than sculpins. Also the
possibility exists that female yellow perch are more pelagic than
males (Rasmussen 1973) and therefore more free to prey on alewives
(a pelagic species) than on sculpins (a bottom-dwelling species).

Since the introduction of the alewife into Lake Michigan in 1949
and its subsequent dominance of the lake, the yellow perch fishery
has declined. The synchronous timing of the rise of the alewife and
the fall of the yellow perch suggests a possible relationship between
the two events. However, data from this study indicates little, if any,

210

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

interaction for food between adult yellow perch and alewives. It is
my opinion that any study seeking to identify mechanisms of perch-
alewife competition in Lake Michigan should include some work on
the food habits and distribution of young yellow perch.

Growth Patterns

The calculated total lengths by sex and year class for yellow perch
in southwestern Lake Michigan are shown in Table 4. The most

TABLE 4. AVERAGE CALCULATED TOTAL LENGTHS IN
MILLIMETERS AT END OF EACH YEAR OF
LIFE FOR SEVEN YEAR CLASSES OF
SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN YELLOW
PERCH.

Year

Sex

No. of
Specimens

Age in Yr.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

(Age 1)

M

5

111

1973

F

0

-

C*

8

106

(Age 2)

M

14

76

140

1972

F

8

116

157

C

27

84

144

(Age 3)

M

45

75

138

174

1971

F

23

105

157

190

C

70

86

145

180

(Age 4)

M

57

69

134

170

198

1970

F

14

77

138

175

200

C

74

70

135

171

198

(Age 5)

M

17

62

128

173

199

224

1969

F

11

73

136

182

211

234

C

30

67

131

176

204

228

(Age 6)

M

4

59

118

164

195

217

236

1968

F

9

71

128

176

208

231

250

C

13

67

125

172

204

227

246

(Age 7)

M

0

.

.

.

-

.

-

-

1967

F

4

64

131

168

202

229

251

269

C

4

64

131

168

202

229

251

269

M

142

72

135

172

198

222

236

-

GRAND

F

69

88

144

182

205

232

250

269

AVERAGES C

226

77

138

175

200

228

247

269

*“C” refers to all specimens combined and includes males, females, and fish

whose sex was undetermined.

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch , Lake Michigan

211

rapid growth period was the first year of life during which the fish
grew to an average total length of 77 mm. The first year’s growth
represented 31% of the total growth experienced by most specimens
in a lifetime (approximately 6 years). In succeeding years growth
increments were 25, 15, and av. 9.7% for the 4-5-6 years.

At each year of life females were longer than males, and at all
ages less than 6 years the differences in length between males and
females were statistically significant for or = 0.05. Previous yellow
perch studies have also shown females to grow faster than males
(Weller 1938; Hile and Jobes 1941 and 1942; Beckman 1949;
Carlander 1950; Brazo 1973).

The apparent rapid growth of the young (groups I, II, III) in this
study may have resulted from the gill nets selectively capturing the
largest (most rapidly growing) of the young perch.

Unlike annual increments in length, the weight increments
increased with age (Table 5). A logarithmic increase in weight as
length increased can be noted in Fig. 1. Again females showed
faster growth than males. The correlation between growth in
weight of males and females yielded statistically significant
differences ( or = 0.05) for ages 2, 3, 4 and 5.

TABLE 5. AVERAGE WEIGHTS OF YELLOW PERCH IN
SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN.

Sex

Age in Yr.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Male

No. specimens

5

14

45

57

17

4

0

Weight (g)

13

44

74

103

142

197

Female

No. specimens

0

8

23

14

11

9

4

Weight (g)

82

102

128

216

249

307

Both

No specimens

5

22

68

71

28

13

4

Weight (g)

13

58

84

108

171

233

307

The parameters “a” and “b” of the length-weight equation, W = (a)
(Lb ), were estimated by the method of least squares and lead to the
following equations. The length-weight equation for males became
W = (5.1076 x 10-6) (L3-14). For females the equation was W = (1.1015
x 10-6) (L3-44). The length-weight equation for males and females
combined was W = (2.1079 x 10-6) (L3i31).

The coefficients of condition indicated that the sampled yellow
perch population in southwestern Lake Michigan was in good

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Wisconsin Academy of Scienes, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 1. Weight as a function of total length for 557 male and 134
female yellow perch from southwestern Lake Michigan.

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch , Lake Michigan

213

condition (Table 6). In general, the coefficients of condition for both
males and females continued to increase for each successive year of
life. Female yellow perch had higher coefficients of condition than
males with statistically significant ( or = 0.05) differences for ages
2 and 5.

TABLE 6. COEFFICIENTS OF CONDITION FOR YELLOW
PERCH IN SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN.

Age in

Yr.

Sex

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Male

No. of
specimens

5

14

45

57

17

4

0

Coefficient
of condition

1.44

1.51

1.68

1.70

1.78

1.92

Female

No. of
specimens

0

8

23

14

11

9

4

Coefficient
of condition

1.73

1.76

1.87

2.15

2.05

2.31

K = (105)(W)/ (L3)

Of the 691 yellow perch of known sex captured in this study only
134 were females. The sex ratio was 4.16 males for every female.
Although yellow perch do have a tendency to develop unbalanced
sex ratios, usually the females outnumber the males. Hile and Jobes
(1941) noted a 2.96:1 ratio in favor of females. Likewise Carlander
(1950), Beckman (1949) and Schneberger (1935) observed the
following female-weighted ratios respectively: 1.71:1; 1.56:1 and
1.31:1. Brazo, in a recent study of yellow perch in Lake Michigan
(1973), captured more males than females.

A comparison between growth rates from several Lake Michigan
yellow perch studies indicated that those observed by Brazo (1973)
in eastcentral Lake Michigan grew considerably faster than all
others. In terms of both length and weight the yellow perch in
eastcentral Lake Michigan grew more rapidly than those in
southwestern Lake Michigan. The growth rates observed by Hile
and Jobes in 1942 for yellow perch in Green Bay and in
northwestern Lake Michigan were somewhat slower than those
observed in the present study of southwestern Lake Michigan. For
the first five years of growth, yellow perch in southwestern Lake
Michigan were longer than those in Green Bay in 1942. For ages

214

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

above five years the Green Bay yellow perch were longer than those
examined in the present study. At all ages the yellow perch in
southwestern Lake Michigan were longer than those observed in
northwestern Lake Michigan in 1942; however, as in the Green Bay
population, the differences in length decreased with age.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

The seasonal depth distribution of yellow perch in Lake Michigan
followed a definite pattern. In June they entered shallow water (9
m) and remained there until September when they gradually
moved to their deeper (18 - 27 m) wintering grounds.

Ninety -eight percent by volume of the summer diet of adult
yellow perch in Lake Michigan near Milwaukee consisted of slimy
sculpins, Cottus cognatus (55%), and alewives, Alosa pseudo-
harengus 43%). The other 2% included insects, cladocera, fish eggs
and other fish.

Yellow perch attained the following average calculated total
lengths during their first 7 years of life respectively — 77, 138, 175,
200, 228, 247 and 269 mm. The average weights for the first 7 years
of life were 13, 58, 84, 108, 171, 233 and 307 g respectively. Females
grew faster than males and lived longer than males. The sex ratio
was 4.16 males to every one female.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am indebted to my major professor, Dr. Carroll R. Norden, for
supervising this project and for reviewing the manuscript and to
Ronald R. Rutowski for preparing the artwork for Fig. 1. I am
grateful to Dr. Eugene Lange for his help with the statistical
analysis and for his review of the manuscript. This study was
partially funded by the Wisconsin Department of Natural
Resources contract AFC-12 (144-F775).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Beckman, W. C. 1949. The rate of growth and sex ratio for seven Michigan
fishes. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 76: 63-81.

Brazo, D. C. 1973. F ecundity, food habits, and certain allometric features of
the yellow perch, Perea flavescens (Mitchill), before operation of a

1977]

Schaefer — Yellow Perch, Lake Michigan

215

pumped storage plant on Lake Michigan. M. S. thesis, Michigan State
University. 75 pp.

Carlander, K. D. 1950. Growth rate studies of saugers, Stizostedion
canadense canadense (Smith) and yellow perch, Perea flavescens
(Mitchill) from Lake of the Woods, Minnesota. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc.
79: 30-42.

El-Zarka, S. E. 1959. Fluctuations in the populations of yellow perch in
Saginaw Bay, Lake Huron. U. S. Fish. Wild. Serv., Fish. Bull. 59: 365-
415.

Ewers, L. A. 1933. Summary report of Crustacea used as food by the fishes
of the western end of Lake Erie. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 63: 379-390.

Hile, R., and F. W. Jobes. 1941. Age, growth and production of the yellow
perch, Perea flavescens (Mitchill) of Saginaw Bay. Trans. Amer. Fish.
Soc. 70: 102-122.

Hile, R., and F. W. Jobes. 1942. Age and growth of the yellow perch, Perea
flavescens (Mitchill), in Wisconsin waters of Green Bay and northern
Lake Michigan. Mich. Acad. Sci., Arts Lett. 27: 241-266.

Jobes, F. W. 1952. Age, growth, and production of yellow perch in Lake
Erie. U. S. Fish Wild. Serv., Fish. Bull. 52: 205-266.

Joeris, L. S. 1957. Structure and growth of scales of yellow perch of Green
Bay. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 86: 169-194.

Price, J. W. 1963. A study of the food habits of some Lake Erie fish. Bull.
Ohio Biol. Survey 2: 89.

Rasmussen, G. A. 1973. A study of the feeding habits of four species of fish,
Alosa pseudoharengus, Coregonus hoyi, Perea flavescens, and Osmerus
mordax, at three sites on Lake Michigan, as compared to the zooplankton,
phytoplankton and water chemistry of those sites. Ph.D. thesis, Michigan
State University. 97 pp.

Schneberger, E. 1935. Growth of the yellow perch ( Perea flavescens
Mitchill) in Nebish, Silver and Weber Lakes, Vilas County, Wisconsin.
Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 29: 103-130.

Smith, S. H. 1968. Species succession and fishery exploitation in the Great
Lakes. Jour. Fish. Res. Bd. Can. 25: 667-692.

216

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Weller, T. H. 1938. Note on the sex ratio of the yellow perch in Douglas
Lake, Cheboygan County, Michigan. Copeia, 1938, No. 2: 61-64.

Wells, L. 1968. Seasonal depth distribution of fish in southeastern Lake
Michigan. U. S. Fish. Wild. Serv., Fish. Bull. 67: 1-15.

STANDING CROP OF BENTHIC INVERTEBRATES
OF LAKE WINGRA AND LAKE MENDOTA, WISCONSIN

Farouk M. El-Shamy

University Wisconsin
— Madison

ABSTRACT

Significant differences existed in the number and biomass of
benthic invertebrates in Lakes Wingra and Mendota. Bottom
organisms are highly diversified and more abundant in Lake
Mendota than in Lake Wingra. Maximum differences occur in early
summer and least differences in August. Hyalella was found in
Lake Mendota samples but not in Lake Wingra. Chironomid larvae
and Mayfly nymphs were caught from both lakes, although
numbers and weights were higher in Lake Mendota.

INTRODUCTION

Like other fresh water fishes, bluegills are known to feed on
insects and macro-food particles (Scott and Crossman 1973 and
Carlander 1973). Thus, studies on benthic macroinvertebrates of
Lake Wingra and Lake Mendota will reveal if fish of Lake Wingra
feed selectively on microcrustaceans or whether the macrofauna of
the lake has been depleted due to the dense fish community. It is also
of importance to identify the role which benthic invertebrates of
Lake Wingra play on the dynamics of the stunted fish population of
the lake.

Study Sites

Lake Wingra and Lake Mendota are located in Dane County near
Madison, Wisconsin. Lake Wingra is a relatively shallow lake with
an average depth of 3 meters and a surface area of 140 hectares.
Lake Mendota is larger with an area of 3938 hectares and a mean
depth of 12 meters. Study areas in the two lakes were chosen to have
similar depths and substrate structures, described as mostly
muddy with few silted areas.

Methods of Collection

Bottom samples were taken with a 15 X 15 cm (225 cm2) Ekman
dredge of standard weight on the same dates (or consecutive dates)

217

218

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

on both lakes from late June through August. Twenty samples,
every 2 weeks, were collected from Lake Wingra, 4 at each station at
north, south, east, west, and middle regions of the lake and at
comparable depths as Lake Mendota samples (2 m). In Lake
Mendota the bottom samples were taken at 4 stations along a
transect from Picnic Point to a distance of about 200 m south along
the shore line, at an average depth of about 2 m. Four replicates
were collected at each station (50 m apart). Bottom fauna were
screened (500 mesh), washed with distilled water, and counted.
They were then classified to major taxonomic groups. Dry weights
were estimated after the samples were kept for 48 hr at 85C.

RESULTS

Lake Wingra

Maximum number of bottom animals per 225 cm2 dredge catch
was found in mid-July and the minimum number at the end of
August (Fig. 1-top). Dry weights followed closely the same pattern,
as shown in Fig. 1-bottom. Differences among number of bottom
animals caught in mid-June and August were significant. Average
number of animals per dredge varied from 8.2 in early July to 2
animals per dredge in late August. Mean numbers of animals found
per dredge declined from late June till late August.

Dry weight of bottom organisms of Lake Wingra was significant¬
ly low, from July through August. Although few bottom organisms
were caught in the dredge, they were relatively large. The benthic
collections of Lake Wingra have poorly diversified animal com¬
munity. Species of the order Diptera constituted 95% or more
throughout the sampling period. Members of Ephemeroptera were
seldom found and Amphipoda were completely absent. Members of
Diptera made up 99% of the benthic community in August. Average
number per 225 cm2 dredge varied from 3.5 in mid-August to 2 in
late August. The corresponding dry weights were 3.9 and 3.7 mg
per 225 cm2, respectively. Species of Diptera made up the collection
of benthic organisms in late June and in July. Number of Diptera
rose sharply from 4.3 organisms per 225 cm2 in late June to 8.2
animals in mid-July. Similarly, the biomass (dry weight per 225
cm2) of benthic invertebrates varied from 2.5 mg in late June to an
average of 5.2 mg in mid-July.

DRY WEIGHT/225 c* 2 NUMBER/225 cm2

1977] El-Shamy — Benthic Invertebrates, Wingra and Mendota 219

FIGURE 1 . Total number (top figure) and total dry weight (bottom figure)
in mg of invertebrates caught in 225 cm2 Ekman dredge from
Lake Mendota and Lake Wingra, June-August, 1972. Circles
are means of 16-20 samples. Vertical lines are ranges.

220 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Lake Mendota

Lake Mendota can be described as having a highly diversified
benthic community. Members of Amphipoda, Ephemeroptera ,
Tricoptera, Diptera, and others were abundant and were
represented in the collections at one time or another during the
sampling period. Because of such diversity, the data are handled
here in a detailed fashion.

Bottom organisms varied in abundance from mid-June through
August. Dipterans and ephemeropterans constituted the bulk of the
bottom fauna collected. A decline in dry weight of botton organisms
per 225 cm2 from June through August was obvious; the same can be
said regarding the number of the organisms (Fig. 1).

Amphipoda. Hyalella sp. in the bottom samples were common,
although not substantial. They varied in number from 1.3 animals
per 225 cm2 in June to 4.3 in August. Hyalella made up the bulk of
the bottom fauna caught in August, with values of about 38% in
number and 33% dry weight for all animals. The minimum
contribution of Hyalella to the bottom fauna was in July when they
were 3% and 1.5% of the total number and weight, respectively, of
the animals caught per dredge. Data of the bimonthly samples do
not show a consistent pattern in the abundance of these animals in
the bottom collections. For example, from the second half of June
through the end of August values for different samples were highly
variable, with variation reaching 43% of the catch in the first half of
July, 4.7% at the end of July, 44.2% in mid-August and 30.9% at the
end of August. Hyalella , therefore, does not contribute significantly
to the bottom fauna caught in June or July while it does in the month
of August. The low values of Hyalella in June may mean that they
were really few at this time or it could also be that Hyalella associate
with the surrounding vegetation rather than settling at the bottom.
Buscemi (1961) found few animals in the bottom samples taken
from Parvin Lake, while many Hyalella were on the overlying
vegetation. Similar observations were reported by Mundie (1959).

Ephemeroptera . Mayflies varied in number from an average of
0.5 to 2 animals per dredge and from 0.2 mg to 1.4 mg dry weight.
They were available at all times but few animals were caught. They
reached a maximum at the end of August with 19.4% of the total
catch in terms of numbers and 18.1% in total dry weight. They have
their minmum values of 5.4% and 11.1% of total number and weight,

1977] El-Shamy — Benthic Invertebrates , Wingra and Mendota 221

respectively, in June. Regarding their abundance, they occupy a
third position after Diptera and Amphipoda.

Odonata and Tricoptera. Members of these groups were not
significant in the bottom catch of Lake Mendota. Odonata make up
1% of the fauna per dredge caught in July and 0.9% of the August
catch, while none was caught in June. Tricoptera were as scarce as
Odonata .

Hirudinea. Although abundant in the area (personal obser¬
vations), few leeches were caught in the dredge. It is possible that
these animals were able to avoid the dredge because of their
relatively high speed of swimming. None of these organisms was
caught in June, while they made up 13.9% of the total number of
organisms collected in late July and about 5% in August collections
of bottom fauna. Their weights, however, varied from 6.2% to 2.8% of
total dry weights of organisms collected per dredge during the same
period.

Diptera. Diptera participated significantly in fauna caught
throughout the summer. They constituted about 88.9% of total
number of animals caught in August. Their weights constituted
75% to 68% of total weight during the same period.

Chironomid larvae comprised about 95% of all the dipterans, the
remaining 5% being chironomid pupae. Mean number of
chironomid larvae was as high as 33 animals per 225 cm2 in June, 13
in July and 4.5 in August. It seems obvious that there is a descending
trend from June through August which may be related to the time
of emergence.

Hydracarina. Water mites, although caught in July and August,
were of little importance in the bottom community. They con¬
stituted about 1.5% of the total number of bottom organisms in July
and 2% in August. Mundie (1959) reported low uniform densities of
water mites in all of his bottom catches.

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION

Extensive studies conducted on bluegill of Lake Wingra and Lake
Mendota (El-Shamy 1976) indicated that fish of Lake Mendota
grew faster than fish of Lake Wingra. In the same studies, all size
classes of Lake Mendota bluegill were shown to have higher daily

222

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

rations (food consumption) than those of Lake Wingra. The least
differences existed among small fish but there were significant
differences for larger fish. When the daily ration of Lake Wingra
bluegill was compared to data from the literature, Lake Wingra
bluegill showed smaller values than those given by Seaburg and
Moyle (1964) and Keast and Welch ( 1968) for bluegill in other lakes.

Data from stomach analyses of Lake Wingra and Lake Mendota
fish revealed the importance of the macroinvertebrates in the
bluegill diet. Studies on stomach contents of panfish by other
investigators (Buscemi 1961, Etnier 1971, and Baumann 1972) also
emphasized the significance of the macroinvertebrates in the diet of
the fish. However, stomach analysis of Lake Wingra bluegill
revealed their dependence on planktonic organisms throughout the
growing season. Measurements of food particles recovered from
their stomachs showed an interesting characteristic: small and
large fish fed on similar size food particles. In contrast, Lake
Mendota fish preyed almost exclusively on benthic
macroinvertebrates. They also showed a definite correlation
between food particle size and fish size.

It should be emphasized that there is more energy expenditure in
catching these small organisms than in catching the large
organisms. Therefore, Lake Wingra bluegill actually waste more
energy in feeding. Also, large organisms should have less
indigestible materials relative to their body weight than do
miscroscopic animals, i.e. the amount of chitin, for example, per
unit dry weight in Hyalella or chironomid larvae should be less than
that in small cladocerans or copepods of equivalent weight. Animals
caught from Lake Wingra were mainly chironomid larvae and, to a
very limited extent, water mites and Mayfly nymphs. Hyalella was
completely absent and damsel flies and caddis flies were rare. In
contrast, Hyalella was abundant and caught throughout the
summer from Lake Mendota, while damsel flies, caddis flies, and
stone flies were only occasionally found. Thus it is seen that Lake
Wingra bluegill, by feeding on these microscopic animals, actually
receive less digestible material than do their counterparts in Lake
Mendota which feed on larger organisms.

In summary, then Lake Wingra bluegill feed on the small
planktonic organisms available, expend a considerable amount of
energy in pursuit of food, receive more indigestible materials per
unit of food consumed, and attain smaller body size and weight than
bluegill in other, more nutritive waters.

Other facts related to the history of Lake Wingra and its fish

1977] El-Shamy — Benthic Invertebrates , Wingra and Mendota 223

during the last 70 years are of interest in relation to the feeding
habits discussed. Helm (1958) reported changes in species and their
relative abundance as well as changes in growth rates of fish in the
lake. Also, three fundamental changes in Lake Wingra over the past
decades have taken place (Baumann et al. 1974a and b): 1. A decline
in large predators such as northern pike and northern long nose gar,
2. An increase in the population density of pan fish, and 3. The
disappearance of large invertebrates such as Hyalella which were
reported to be abundant in the lake in the early twentieth century.

We therefore conclude that the decline in the benthic invertebrate
population in Lake Wingra has played a significant role in the
dynamics of the fish population in the lake.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baumann, P. 1972. Distribution, movement, and feeding interactions
among bluegill and three other panfish in Lake Wingra. M.S. thesis,
Univ. of Wisconsin, Madison. 48 pp.

Baumann, P. C., and J. F. Kitchell. 1974a. Diel pattern of distribution and
feeding of bluegill (Lepomis macrochirus) in Lake Wingra, Wisconsin.
Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 103: 255-260.

Baumann, P. C., J. F. Kitchell, J. J. Magnuson, and T. B. Kayes. 1974b.
Lake Wingra, 1837-1973: A case history of human impact. Wis. Acad.
Sci., Arts, Lett. 62: 57-91.

Buscemi, P. A. 1961. Zoology of bottom fauna of Parvin Lake, Colorado,
Amer. Micro. Soc. Trans. 80: 266-307.

Carlander, D. K. 1973 Handbook of Freshwater Fishery Biology , Vol. 2,
Iowa State University Press.

El-Shamy, F. 1976. A comparison of the growth rates of bluegill (. Lepomis
macrochirus) in Lake Wingra and Lake Mendota, Wisconsin. Wis.
Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 64: 144-153.

Etnier, D. A. 1971. Food of three species of sunfish {Lepomis centrarchidae)
and their hybrids in three Minnesota lakes. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc.
100: 124-128.

Helm, W. T. 1958. Some notes on the ecology of panfish in Lake Wingra with
special reference to the yellow bass. Ph. d. thesis, Univ. of Wisconsin,
Madison, 88 pp.

224

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Keast, A. and L. Welsh, 1968. Daily feeding periodicities, food uptake rates,
and dietary changes with hour of day in some lake fishes. Fish. Res. Bd.
Canada 25: 1133-1144.

Mundie, J. H. 1959. The diurnal activity of the larger invertebrates at the
surface of Lake la Ronge Saskatchewan. Can. Jour. Zool. 37: 945-956.

Scott, B. and E. Crossman, 1973 Freshwater Fishes of Canada, Fish. Res.
Board Canada, Ottawa, 966pp.

Seaburg, K. G. and J. B. Moyle, 1964. Feeding habits, digestion rates, and
growth of some Minnesota warm water fishes. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc.
93: 269-285.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I am grateful to Dr. J. Magnuson and Dr. J. Kitchell of the
University of Wisconsin for support and creative criticism of the
original research.

DISTRIBUTION OF FISH PARASITES FROM
TWO SOUTHEAST WISCONSIN STREAMS

Omar M. Amin

University Wisconsin
—Parkside

ABSTRACT

Between 1971 and 1974, 15 species of fish parasites (three
acanthocephalan, six cestode, four trematode, one nematode and
one crustacean species) were recovered from 15 hosts (8 families)
from the Pike and Root rivers, southeast Wisconsin. A complete
parasite-host listing is included with notes on differential distribu¬
tion of parasites in the two streams and related information.

INTRODUCTION

The Root River (Milwaukee and Racine Counties) and Pike River
(Racine and Kenosha Counties) drain eastward into Lake Michigan.
Some of the fish parasites were previously treated by Amin (1974,
1975 a-d) and Amin et al. (1973). Others were more recently
recovered and additional information has now become available. A
comprehensive listing of parasites and their hosts is included here
for the first time. Attention is called to the differences in the
infestation picture in the two streams and to the possible cause.

MATERIALS AND METHODS

All fishes from both streams were seined and examined during
the autumn of every year (1971-1974) and occasionally also from the
Pike River during the spring and/or summer. They were kept on
wet ice until examined for parasites in the laboratory within 24-48
hours. Recovered parasites were processed as follows. Trematodes
and cestodes were stained in Semichons carmine, cleared in xylene
and whole mounted in Canada balsam. Acanthocephalans were
stained in Harris’ hematoxylin or Mayer’s acid carmine, cleared in
beechwood creosote or terpineol and whole mounted in Canada
balsam. Nematodes were not permanently mounted but cleared in
glycerol.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

Of 26 species of fishes (10 families) examined from the Root (R)

225

226

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

and Pike (P) Rivers, 15 (8 families) were infested with parasites.

Fishes which were negative include: Alosa pseudoharengus
(Wilson) (alewife) (R:5); Esox americanus Le Sueur (grass pickerel)
(R:l); Chrosomus erythrogaster (Raf.) (southern red-belly dace)
(P: >74); Notropis comutus (Mitchill) (common shiner) (R: >35;
P:>7); N. heterolepis Eigenmann and Eigenmann (blacknose
shiner) (R:13): N. stramineus (Cope) (sand shiner) (P: > 3); Ictalurm
nebulosus (Le Sueur) (brown bullhead) (R:l); N oturus flavus (Raf.)
(stonecat) (R:4); Lepomis gibbosus (Linn.) (pumpkinseed) (R:2); L.
megalotis Raf. (longear sunfish) (R:l).

A listing of parasites recovered and their hosts follows. Host
names are followed by the number examined from each
stream and a symbol denoting frequency and intensity of in¬
festation (-:negative, ± :scarce/accidental, +:light/infrequent,
++:moderate/somewhat common, +++:heavy/frequent). Asterisks
denote new locality records in southeastern Wisconsin.

ACANTHOCEPHALA

Acanthocephalus parksidei Amin, 1974

Salmo gairdneri Richardson (rainbow trout) (P:2, ++ to +++)
Notemigonus crysoleucas (Mitchill) (golden shiner) (P:9,+) (R:32 ,-)
Pimephalus promelas (Raf.) (fathead minnow) (P:17,+)

Semotilus atromaculatus (Mitchill) (creek chub) (P: > 398, ++ to +++)
(R:66,-)

Semotilus margarita (Cope) (pearl dace) (P: 54, ± ) (R:665,-)

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P: > 231, ++ to +++)
(R:479, ± )*

Ictalurus melas (Raf.) (black bullhead) (P:7, ++ to +++) ( R:l- )

Culaea inconstance (Kirtland) (brook stickleback) (P:ll,+)

Lepomis cyanellus Raf. (green sunfish) (P: >48, +++ to +++) (R:131,±)*
Lepomis macrochirus Raf. (blue gill) (P: >2, ++ to +++) (R:17,-)
Micropterus salmoides (Lacepede) (largemouth bass) (P: > 2, ++ to +++)
(R:3,-)

Neoechinorhynchus sp.

Lepomis cyanellus Raf. (green sunfish) (P: >48,+) (R:131,-)
Pomphorhynchus bulbocolli (Linkins, 1919) Van Cleave, 1919

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P:>231,±)
(R:479,-)

1977]

Amin — Fish Parasites, S E Wisconsin

227

CESTODA

Biacetabulum biloculoides Mackiewicz & McCrae, 1965

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P:>231, + to ++)
(R:479, ±)

Biacetabulum macrocephalum McCrae, 1962

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P:>231,-)
(R:479, + )

Hunterella nodulosa Mackiewicz & McCrae, 1962

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P: >231, + to ++)*
(R:479: +to ++)*

Glaridacris catostomi Cooper, 1920

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P: >231,+)

(R:479: ± )*

Bothriocephalus cuspidatus Cooper, 1917

Lepomis cyanellus Raf. (green sunfish) (P: >48, +) (R:131,-)
Proteocephalus buplanensis Mayes, 1976

Semotilus atromaculatus (Mitchill) (creek chub) (P: >398, + to ++)

(R :66, ± )*

Lepomis cyanellus Raf. (green sunfish) (P: >48,+) (R:131,-)

TREMATODA

Triganodistomum attenuatum Mueller & Van Cleave, 1932

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P:>231,+)

(R:479,+)

Ornithodiplostomum ptychocheilus (Faust, 1913) metacercariae

Semotilus atromaculatus (Mitchill) (creek chub) (P: > 398, + to ++)

(R:66,-)

Posthodiplostomum minimum (MacCallum, 1912) metacercariae

Semotilus atromaculatus (Mitchill) (creek chub) (P: > 398, + to ++)

(R:66 ,-)

Neascus sp. metacercariae

(Black spot; pigmented cysts in skin)

Specific information not available (P:+)* (R: + to ++)*

228

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

NEMATODA

Dorylamus sp.

Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede) (white sucker) (P: >231,++)
(R:479,-)

CRUSTACEA

Lernaea cyprinacea Linn.

Umbra limi (Kirtland) (central mudminnow) (P: >4,-) (R:33, + to ++)
Cyprinus carpio (Linn.) (carp) (R:2, + to ++)

Notemigonus crysoleucus (Mitchill) (golden shiner) (P:9,-) (R:32,+)
Semotilus atromaculatus (Mitchill) (creek chub) (P: 398,-) (R:66, + to
++)

Semotilus margarita (Cope) (pearl dace) (P:> 54,-) (R:665,+)
Catostomus commersoni (Lacep&de) (white sucker) (P:231, ± )* (R:479,+

to ++)

Lepomis cyanellus Raf. (green sunfish) (P:> 48,-) (R:131,+)

Lepomis macrochirus Raf. (blue gill) (P:> 2,-) (R:17,+)

Micropterus salmoides (Lacepede ) (largemouth bass) (P: > 2,-) (R:3, + to

++)

Etheostoma nigrum Raf. (Johnny darter) (R:74,+)

The above data indicate that the parasitic fauna of Pike River
fishes is considerably richer than that of Root River fishes. Nine of
the 15 recovered parasites were common in the Pike River: A.
parksidei, Neoechinorhynchus sp., B. biloculoides, G. catostomi, B.
cuspidatus, P. buplanensis, 0. ptychocheilus, P. minimum and
Dorylamus sp. Only two parasites, B. macrocephalum and L.
cyprinacea, were more common in Root River fishes. Two species,
H. nodulosa and T. attenuatum, were about equally common in
suckers (C. commersoni ) of both streams. The above distributional
pattern might be caused by the differential distribution of
supporting intermediate hosts. If true, then the presumably
“poorer” invertebrate fauna of the larger Root River might be
influenced, at least in part, by its higher flow rate as well as its
higher non-fecal organic pollutant content than in the Pike River
(Southeastern Wisconsin Regional Planning Commission, 1966).
However, only quantitative surveys can validate the above state¬
ment.

During the course of these investigations, annual cycles in certain
parasites were observed. Root River fishes were extensively

1977]

Amin — Fish Parasites , 5 E Wisconsin

229

surveyed during the autumn of 1971 and 1974. During 1971, only B.
macrocephalum was recovered from suckers. In 1974, Root River
suckers were commonly infected with H.nodulosa (48% of 82 were
infested with approximately 350 worms; about 80% were mature
adults) whereas infestations with B. macrocephalum were very
scarce. Furthermore, L. cyprinacea infestations were common in
Root River fishes during autumn, 1971, but were absent during the
same season, 1974. Root River fishes examined in 1974, particularly
suckers and chubs, were relatively larger (older) than those
previously surveyed from the same stream. In the Pike River,
Dorylaimus sp. was commonly found in suckers examined during
autumn, 1972. This nematode was not recovered from suckers from
the Pike River during any other season or during the same season in
other years. Host size associations might have been partially
involved in some of the above cycles. Lighter and less frequent
infestations with L. cyprinacea and Dorylaimus sp. (as well as with
T. attenuatum) were previously found associated with increased
host size (Amin et al., 1973, Amin, 1974). Future investigations
might reveal the presence of additional parasites from these two
streams. However, the above trend of heavier infections in Pike
than in Root River fishes will probably continue if water and host
conditions remain essentially unchanged.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

For help in the identification or confirmation of H. nodulosa and
G. catostomi from Root River, I am grateful to J. S. Mackiewicz,
State University of New York, Albany.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Amin, 0. M. 1974. Intestinal helminths of the white sucker,
Catostomus commersoni (Lacepede), in S.E. Wisconsin. Proc.
Helm. Soc. Wash. 41:81-88.

- 1975a. Intestinal helminths of some southeastern Wisconsin

fishes. Proc. Helm. Soc. Wash. 42:43-46.

_ 1975b. Acanthocephalus parksidei sp. n. (Acanthocephala:

Echinorhynchidae) from Wisconsin fishes. J. Parasit. 61:301-306.

- - 1975c. Variability in Acanthocephalus parksidei Amin, 1974

(Acanthocephala: Echinorhynchidae) J. Parasit. 61:307-317.
- 1975d. Host and seasonal associations of Acanthocephalus

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

parksidei Amin, 1974 (Acanthocephala: Echinorhynchidae) in
Wisconsin fishes. J. Parasit. 61:318-329.

Amin, 0. M., J. S. Balsano, and K. A. Pfalzgraf. 1973. Lernaea
cyprinacea Linn. (Copepoda: Crustacea) from Root River,
Wisconsin, fishes. Amer. Midland Nat. 89:484-487.
Southeastern Wisconsin Regional Planning Commission, 1966.
Water quality and flow of streams in southeastern Wisconsin.
Tech. Rep. 4, 342 pp.

CHANGING ROLE OF THE EMERGENCY ROOM
AND ITS ACCEPTANCE BY HOSPITAL PERSONNEL

Theodore W. Langreder
University of Wisconsin
— Green Bay

ABSTRACT

The hospital, in response to the changing health care needs of
society, has undergone numerous transitions, since its inception as
an institution of refuge for the ailing indigent. One example is the
development of a “protocol” method of patient care and its
incorporation into an emergency room Acute Care Unit. It was the
purpose of this study to assess the feasibility, efficiency, and
acceptability of care provided by the protocol method for a large
midwestern hospital.

Methods consisted of cl inical analysis, personnel interviews, and
data comparison with other protocol studies. Sample size totaled
1,683 patients. Analysis of results adjudged the protocol method to
be a feasible, safe, and acceptable means of providing health care to
patients.

INTRODUCTION

Through history, the hospital has reflected society’s health care
needs and attitudes. During the Roman Empire, for instance, army
hospitals were developed for wounded and ill soldiers; however, the
concept was not embraced by the general society. The people thus
relied upon traditional household medicine for their needs and
ignored the potential benefits of emergency care (Scarborough,
1969).

In the eighteenth century, hospitals were viewed as a refuge for
the ailing indigent (McLachlan and McKeown, 1971). Later, with
the advent of anesthetics and antiseptic procedures, they became
institutions where the sick went to be cured rather than to die. As a
result, middle and upper class patients began to utilize hospitals
along with the poor (Shryocke, 1969). This trend has continued up to
the present.

Today, mounting numbers of non-emergent* patients are

*Komaroff (1974a) classifies patients entering emergency rooms as
either emergent or non-emergent patients. Emergent patients will suffer
permanent impairment if not treated within one-half hour, while non-
emergent patients will not.

231

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

creating crises in hospital emergency rooms (E.R.s) (Ginzberg,
1971; Komaroff, 1974a). This results in inefficient utilization of E .R.
staff and facilities. To cope with this problem, “protocol” methods of
patient care have been designed and incorporated into E.R. based
Acute Care Units (A.C.U.) (Komaroff, 1974a and b).

The protocol method (Komaroff, 1974a and b; Bragg, 1972)
employs clinical algorithms (C.A.s) to appraise and manage health
problems. C.A.s concentrate on the patient’s primary complaint; —
his age, sex, past illnesses, and current medications determining
the laboratory tests, and physical examination to be obtained. After
data appraisal, proper treatment is specified by the C.A.

It was the purpose of this study to assess the feasibility, efficiency,
and acceptability of care provided by the protocol method.

METHODS AND MATERIALS

The study took place at a major metropolitan hospital in
midwestern United States for four weeks in January 1975. The
evaluation consisted of three parts:

I. Clinical Analysis:

A. Determination of the four most common complaints seen in the
A.C.U. This assumes that a small number of illnesses are
responsible for a large percentage of A.C.U. visits (Komaroff,
1974b).

B. Determination of the A.C.U. patient flow. This assumes that
knowledge of the patient flow will identify bottlenecks in the
system.

C. Determination of the time lag (time elapsed) between a patient
entering the Unit and his examination. This assumes that a
positive value accrues from examining patients rapidly. Speedy
examination also eliminates patient backlog at a critical
juncture in the system.

D. Determination of the time lag (time elapsed) between the
patient’s examination and the issuing of his final orders. This
assumes the positive value of speedy patient examination will
diminish, if the patient is forced to wait a prolonged time for
final orders. In addition, rapid issue of final orders eliminates
patient backlog at another important juncture.

E. Determination of the number of patients given a “nurse
provisional treatment plan” and having it reviewed by
physicians before being discharged. This assumes a small
number of tasks represent a large percentage of work in the
workup of non-emergent illnesses and that the tasks are
performed almost identically well by either physicians or

1977]

Langreder — Changing Role, Emergency Room

233

trained non-physician personnel (Komaroff, 1974a and b).

F. Determination of the number of patients treated by the A.C.U.
but who, in reality, belonged under E.R. jurisdiction. This
assumes the protocol method is efficient, if the number of
treated A.C.U. patients actually belonging under E.R.
jurisdiction is small (arbitrarily, the maximum limit is set at
20% of the total A.C.U. patient load).

II. Personnel interviews:

A. Patient interviews were conducted to ascertain their reaction to
the A.C.U.’s care (personal communication). This assumes the
patients’ reaction may influence their recovery.

B. Nurse and physician interviews were conducted to determine
the staffs reaction to the Unit’s care (personal communication).
This also assumes that staff attitudes may affect the delivery of
care.

C. Staff interviews were conducted to determine the protocol
method’s feasibility in the delivery of health care (personal
communication). This assumes that individuals involved with
the provisional treatment plan are in an excellent position to
comment on the feasibility of employing the protocol method in
the future.

III. Data comparison with other A.C. U. studies. This permits any
meaningful similarities in data to be identified.

RESULTS

Sample size totaled 1,683 patients. The four most common
presenting complaints were:

Upper respiratory infection . 485 (29%)

Abdominal pain . . . 122 (7%)

Urinary tract infection. . . 109 (6%)

Gynecological . 103 (6%)

N - 1683 Total: 819 (49%)

Upon entering, the patient reported to the triage nurse and
proceeded in accord with the flow in Diagram I. The mean total
time spent by a patient in the A.C.U. was 119 minutes: of this total,
only a mean of 12.5 minutes was spent waiting for examination,
whereas a mean of 106.5 minutes was spent waiting for final orders
(Table 1). Of the 1,683 patients entering the A.C.U., 159 (9%) were
referred to other medical units. Of the remaining total, 1,463 (87%)
were given a nurse provisional treatment plan and had it reviewed
by a physician before being discharged, while only 61 (4%) were

DIAGRAM I

DIAGRAM OF ACUTE CARE UNIT PATIENT FLOW

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Wise on sin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

1977]

Langreder — Changing Role , Emergency Room

235

DIAGRAM I

DIAGRAM OF ACUTE CARE UNIT PATIENT FLOW

Patient enters the E.R. and reports to the triage nurse (1.2). Here,
using the presenting symptoms or vital signs of the patient, the nurse
selects the appropriate C. A. The C. A. assists the nurse in screening the
patient for the A.C.U., E.R., or Intensive Care (2a, b, and c). If the patient is
under 18 years of age, has an eye problem, or requests contraceptive
information, the appropriate referral or appointment is made by the nurse
(2d, e, and f).

If the C. A. determines the patient can be treated by the A.C.U., he is
directed to the A.C.U. desk and waiting room (3). Here the patient
completes the appropriate forms (home address, race, sex, next of km, etc.)
and waits for examination. The examination may be administered by either
a nurse or physician, as specified by the C. A. (4). Laboratory and diagnostic
tests, if required by C. A. or examiner, are also administered at this time
(4a, b).

Upon completion of the examination and any tests, the patient returns
to the waiting room to await further instructions (5). These instructions,
based upon clinical data and the examiner’s medical experience, are
usually determined by the C. A. However, instructions deviating from the
C. A. may be issued, if the appropriate physician has been consulted and
permission obtained.

Final instructions include the patient’s discharge, admittance to the
Health Center, transfer of care to another physician, or further consulta¬
tion (5a, b, c, and d). If further consultation is required, the patient is either
transferred immediately to E.R. (6a) or asked to return to the A.C.U. (6b).
Should the patient be requested to return, the C. A. specifies whether it
should be within or after 24 hours (7a, b).

TABLE 1: TIME LAGS IN PATIENT FLOW

From Entering A.C.U.

From Examination

Until Examination (min.)

Until Discharge (min.)

A.M. SHIFT

15

86

P.M. SHIFT

10

127

Average

12.5

106.5

Total Average Visit Time (min.): 119

treated but adjudged to actually be under E.R. jurisdiction.

Fifty-one patients were interviewed. Forty-seven (92%) respond¬
ed that the triage algorithm/nurse provisional treatment method of
care was as good or better than that of their regular physician.
Eleven nurses (the entire A.C.U. nursing staff) and six residents

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

were interviewed. Of these, all nurses (100%) and five residents
(83%) expressed approval of the Unit’s method of care, and complete
confidence in its ability to assess and treat patients (Table 2).

TABLE 2: RESPONSE FINDINGS

Reaction to Acute Care Unit Confidence in Acute Care Unit

Positive Negative Positive Negative

%

No. %

No.

%

No. %

No.

PATIENTS

(N=51)

92

47 8

4

n.a. :

N.A. N.A.

N.A.

NURSES

(N=ll)

100

11

-

100

11

-

RESIDENTS

(N-6)

83

5 17

1

83

5 17

1

. A. = Not Available

TABLE 3: PRESENTING COMPLAINTS

Complaint

Acute Care Unit

Kaiser

- Inglewood Clinic*

%

No.

Rank

%

No.

Rank

Upper

Respiratory

Infection

29

485

1

27

797

1

Abdominal

Pain

7

122

2

10

289

2

Urinary

Tract

Infection

6

109

3

3

87

15

Gynecological

6

103

4

3

94

13

Total

49

819

N=1683

-

44

1267

N=2909

-

'(Komaroff, 1974b)

1977]

Langreder — Changing Role , Emergency Room

237

In a comparable study at the Kaiser-Inglewood Clinic, presenting
complaint data were (Table 3) (Komaroff, 1974b):

Upper respiratory infection .... .797 (27%)

Abdominal pain ....... _ .... .289 (10%)

Urinary tract infection ......... 87 (3%)

Gynecological . . . 94 (3%)

N = 2909 Total: 1267(44%)

Other findings show the mean time lag between a patient
entering the A.C.U. and his being examined was 14 minutes
(Greenfield, 1974a). Others report that 70-89% of protocol treated
patients were discharged without significant deviance from the
protocol disposition decision (Komaroff, 1974b: Winickoff, 1974;
Greenfield, 1973), whereas only 2-11% of the protocol treated
patients were discovered to be actual E.R. cases (Table 4) (Bragg,
1972; Winickoff, 1974; Greenfield, 1973).

Rank: 1st
2nd
14th
12th

TABLE 4: COMPARISON of TIME LAGS, DISCHARGED
PATIENTS, and TRUE EMERGENCY ROOM CASES

Time

Acute Care Unit

Other Studies*

%

No. Time (min.)

% No. Time (min. )

Time Lag Between
Patient Entering
A.C.U. and Exami¬
nation

1683 12.5

212 14

Patients Given
Provisional

Treatment Plan

Or C. A. Treatment

87

1463 - 70-89

146-226

Patients Treated

But Were True
Emergency Room
Cases

4

61 - 2-11

N.I.

N.I.=Not Included

*( Bragg, 1972; Winickoff, 1974;
Greenfield, 1973, 1974a)

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

DISCUSSION

Comparison of our data with other protocol studies indicates
certain parallels, namely:

1. Time elapsed between patients entering the A.C.U. and their
being examined (12.5 min. in this study, 14 min. in others)

2. Percentage of patients treatable by the protocol method
(theoretically 87% in this study, 70-89% in others)

3. Percentage of patients treated by the A.C.U. but actually
belonging under E .R. jurisdiction (4% in this study, compared
2-11% in others)

4. Patient, nurse, and physician response to provisional
treatment or protocol method (this study as well as others
indicates an almost unanimously positive response).

These similarities in data soundly support the conclusion reached
by other authors; namely, that the protocol method is a feasible,
safe, and acceptable means of providing health care to non-
emergent patients (Komaroff, 1974a, b and c; Winickoff, 1974;
Greenfield, 1973, 1974a and b).

In addition, other advantages of the protocol method include
(Komaroff, 1974a):

1. Improving the basic education and comprehension of patho¬
physiology in medical students by studying the logic built into
the protocols.

2. Providing medical-legal safeguards by stating explicitly
what was and was not administered to the patient and by
representing tested, validated standards of care.

However, the protocol method has its shortcomings. The most
apparent is the tremendous amount of time the patient spends
waiting for final orders. Experience suggests the delay stems from
the turnabout time required for laboratory tests. Accordingly, the
protocol method’s efficiency might be improved, if the turnabout
time for tests was reduced. A potential solution includes assigning a
special laboratory fulltime to the A.C.U. Further research is
necessary, however, before the final conclusion can be determined.

CONCLUSIONS

The protocol method established in an Emergency Room based
Acute Care Unit is adjudged to be a feasible, safe, and acceptable
means of providing health care to non-emergent patients. Further
research is recommended, to determine if increased protocol

1977]

Langreder — Changing Role , Emergency Room

239

efficiency would result from attaching a fulltime laboratory to the
Acute Care Unit.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bragg, F. E. 1972. Evaluation of Aide Triage of Ambulatory Patients II.
ACP 27, Lincoln Lab. Massachusetts Inst. Tech. 47 pp.

Ginzberg, E. 1971. Urban Health Services. Columbia Univ. Press, New
York and London. 479 pp.

Greenfield, S. 1973. Management of certain GU complaints by a physician
extender and a specified protocol. Presented at 101st Amer. Pub. Health
Assoc. Conference, San Francisco. (Abstract cited in Komaroff, 1974b.)

Greenfield, S. 1974a. An upper respiratory complaint protocol for
physician extenders, Arch. Internal Med., 133: 294-299.

Greenfield, S. 1974b. Management of low back pain by a protocol and a
physician. Presented at the Amer. Fed. Clinical Res., Atlantic City.
(Abstract cited in Komaroff, 1974b.)

Komaroff, A. L. 1974a. “Protocols for physician extenders.” In Kallstrom,
M., and Yarnall, S (eds .). Advances in Primary Care. Med. Computer Sci.
Assoc., Seattle, Washington, pp. 75-88.

Komaroff, A. L. 1974b. Ambulatory Care Project Progress Report 11 A:
1969-1974. Lincoln Lab. Massachusetts Inst. Tech. 75 pp.

Komaroff, A. L. 1974c. Ambulatory care protocols improve efficiency and
quality of care, Hos. Med. Staff, 3: 1-10.

McLachlan, G., and T. McKeown (eds.). 1971. Medical History and Medical
Care. Oxford Univ. Press, London and New York. 245 pp.

Scarborough, J. 1969. Roman Medicine. Cornell Univ. Press, Ithaca, New
York. 238 pp.

Shryocke, R. H. 1969. The Development of Modern Medicine. Hafner Pub.
Co., New York. 479 pp.

Winickoff, R. 1974. Management of minor respiratory illnesses by nurses
using a protocol. Presented at the Amer. Fed. Clinical Res., Boston.
(Abstract cited in Komaroff, 1974b.)

240

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author wishes to thank Norris M. Durham, Ph.D., Joseph V.
Messer, M.D., and Philip R. Liebson, M.D., for their assistance in
preparation of this paper. The author also wishes to acknowledge a
special debt to W. C. Kaufman, Ph.D., whose guidance and patience
made this manuscript a reality.

OCCURRENCE OF THE BREGMATIC BONE
IN THE RACCOON, PROCYON LOTOR

David E. Miller

University Wisconsin
— Platteville

ABSTRACT

A total of 214 specimens of Procyon lotor from Southwestern
Wisconsin were collected and prepared for the study; of these, 140
specimens were suitable for consideration, the rest being damaged
or having occluded sutures due to advanced age. Museum
collections yielded 78 specimens, 48 of which were suitable for
study. Four bregmatic bones were found in specimens from the
study area (2.86%); one from museum collections (2.08%). Final
analysis of the data placed the occurrence of the bregmatic bone in
the raccoon at 2.66%.

INTRODUCTION

The bregmatic bone, an anomalous accessory bone at the junction
of the frontal and coronal sutures is present in various species of
mammals. Bregmatic bones may be symmetrical or asymmetrical
in both shape and position, the location being best described as the
center of the dorsum of the skull. They generally present well
sutured boundaries to the surrounding cranial elements until the
sutures are obliterated by advancing age. The exact origin of the
bone is not precisely known. Many researchers (Gulliver, 1890;
Wortman, 1920; Troitsky, 1932; Sitsen, 1933; DeBeer, 1937) have
discussed the origin and occurrence of bregmatic bones.

Bregmatic bones have been reported in some sixty-three species
of mammals belonging to ten orders (e.g. v. Jhering, 1915; Schultz,
1923). The best compilation of data is by Schultz (1923); this
illustrated report includes cases of single and multiple occurrences.
The only information available for the genus, Procyon , is that of v.
Jhering (1915) who reported the occurrence in Procyon can -
crivorous to be 45.4% (five of eleven specimens). The bone was
described as a single, centrally located structure of considerable
size.

This study was conducted to provide statistics for bregmatic bone
occurrence in the raccoon of Southwestern Wisconsin. Several

241

242

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

museum collections were also examined for the presence of
bregmatic bones in Procyon lotor skulls.

MATERIALS AND METHODS

Specimens were obtained from sportsmen of Southwestern
Wisconsin, during the period 15 October to 20 December 1973. Each
specimen was cataloged with respect to age, sex, location and date of
capture. Fresh and frozen specimens were boiled with a bio-enzyme
detergent, rinsed, bleached, and dried prior to examination. A
bregmatic bone was judged to be present when clearly discernible
sutures along the perimeter of the bone were present.

RESULTS

Nearly 300 specimens were obtained during the study; many
were unsuitable for processing due to damage during collection. Of
214 specimens prepared for the study, 74 possessed occluded
sutures or were otherwise unsuitable for consideration. Of the 140
specimens suitable for study, four (2.86%) possessed the bregmatic
bone.

FIGURE 1. Number 108, a specimen of unknown sex from Harrison
Township.

1977]

Miller — Bregmatic Bone , Raccoon

243

A specimen of unknown sex from Grant County (Fig. 1) displayed
the largest bregmatic bone (13 x 6 mm). The bone was medial and
had well defined sutures. A male specimen from Grant County was
the only specimen with multiple bregmatic bones. The anterior
bone was small (9x2 mm) and located somewhat sinestral to the
sagittal suture; the posterior bone (6x7 mm) was medial and
showed no sign of bisection by the sagittal suture. Another Grant
County specimen of unknown sex (Fig. 2) displayed a medially

FIGURE 2. Number 279, a specimen of unknown sex from Platteville

Township.

situated bregmatic bone (10 x 4 mm), and a female from Lafayette
County had a medially located bregmatic bone (15 x 3 mm). Skulls
without the bregmatic bone (Fig. 3) have a clearly defined
intersection of the sagittal and coronal sutures. Eventually, with
advancing age these sutures occlude and a sagittal crest forms.

In addition to the specimens prepared by the author, several
museum collections of raccoon skulls were examined for bregmatic
bones (Table 1). Of 78 museum specimens 48 of which were suitable
for study, only one (2.08%) bregmatic bone was found. The
specimen, of unknown sex, was one of ten specimens, five of which at
the Davenport Museum, Davenport, Iowa (No. 277) were suitable

244

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

for study. The sample from Southwestern Wisconsin (214
specimens, 140 suitable for study) added to the museum sample (78
specimens, 48 suitable for study) totaled 188. The final percentage
of occurrence of the bregmatic bone in the raccoon was 2.66%.

FIGURE 3. Number 114, a specimen lacking a bregmatic bone.

TABLE 1: THE OCCURRENCE OF BREGMATIC BONES IN
MUSEUM COLLECTIONS OF RACCOON SKULLS

Collection Location

Curator

Total

Specimens

Suitable With

; for Study Bregmatic

Calvin Hall, Univ. Ia.,

Iowa City

Holme Semken

20

15

0

Davenport Museum,

Davenport, Ia.

Peter Peterson

10

5

1

McBride Hall, Univ. Ia.,

Iowa City

George Schrimper

2

1

0

Noland Hall, Univ. Wis.,

Madison

Elizabeth Pillaert

46

27

0

DISCUSSION

Bregmatic bones were found to occur in both male (1) and female
(1) specimens. None of the juvenile skulls examined possessed

1977]

Miller — Bregmatic Bone , Raccoon

245

supernumerary fontanelle bones. The anomaly does not appear to be
restricted geographically nor would a genetic factor be a safe
assumption based on the data obtained at this point. Examination of
the literature presented two basic theories of bregmatic bone
origin, one genetic (Troitzky, 1932) and one traumatic (Sitsen,
1933). More information on the origin of bregmatic bones might be
obtained from a species which displays a statistically high
occurrence of the bone, e.g. Erethizon dorsatus (Schultz, 1923).
Bregmatic bones are of little phylogenetic significance, but their
anomalous nature and uncertain origin arouse the curiosity of
various researchers from time to time.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This study was pursued in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of Master of Arts, Biology, University of Wisconsin-
Platteville. The author wishes to express his appreciation to
Professor Thomas J. Munns who served as advisor during the study
and to Drs. Robert H. Foulkes and Harry 0. Pearce who served on
the review committee. I am indebted also to the sportsmen of
Southwestern Wisconsin who assisted in the collection of specimens.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

DeBeer, G. R. 1937. The Development of the Vertebrate Skull, pp.
368, 369, 387, 485, 486, 488. Oxford Univ. Press. London.

Gulliver, G. 1890. A skull with wormian bones in the frontal suture.
Proc. Anat. Soc. Gt. Brit. Jour. Anat. Physiol. 25: 27.

Schultz, A. H. 1923. Bregmatic fontanelle bones in mammals. Jour.
Mammal. 4:65-77.

Sitsen, A. E. 1933. Zur. Enturcklung der Nante des
Schadeladaches. Zeit. Anat. 101: 121-152.

Troitzky, W. I. 1932. Zur Frage der Formbildung des
Schadeladaches. Zeit. Morphol. Anat. 30: 504-574.

v. Jhering, R. 1915 O osso bregmatico de “procyon” e em geral dos
simios, carnivoros e desdentados brazileiros. Ann. Paulistas
Med. Cirurg. 5: 102-106.

Wortman, J . L . 1920. On some hitherto unrecognized characters in
the skull of the Insectivora and other mammals. Proc. U.S.
Nat. Museum 57: 1-52.

TOXICITY OF ANTIMYCIN A TO ASELLUS
INTERMEDIUS , DUGESIA DOROTOCEPHALA ,
GAMMARUS PSEUDOLIMNAEUS ,

AND HYALELLA AZTEC A

Paul C. Baumann
James W. A. Jaeger
Mary E. Antonioni

University Wisconsin —
Madison

ABSTRACT

Antimycin A, a registered fish toxicant, was tested in the
laboratory on Asellus intermedius , Dugesia dorotocephala ,
Gammarus pseudolimnaeus, and Hyalella azteca. H. azteca and G.
pseudolimnaeus were very sensitive with 96 hr LC 50s < 10 p g/1. A.
intermedius also showed mortality at this level in one series of
experiments. D. dorotocephala showed no mortality at 15 pg/1 of
Antimycin A for eight days. The 96 hr ECT 50 values at 10 p g/1 of
Antimycin A were determined for G. pseudolimnaeus (1.4 hr) and
H. azteca (5.3 hr). Based on these results, the 10 pg/1 level of
Antimycin A normally used in fish control would probably
eliminate G. pseudolimnaeus and H. azteca , two important fish food
organisms.

INTRODUCTION

Antimycin A, a respiratory inhibitor registered as a fish toxicant
in 1966, has received increasing use for rough fish control in lake
and stream management. Much laboratory and field experimenta¬
tion has been done with Antimycin A, as a piscicide (Berger et al.,
1969; Gilderhus et al., 1969; Lennon and Berger, 1970; Marking and
Dawson, 1972), but there is a lack of information on the toxicity of
the compound to common invertebrates. In view of the use of the
chemical for a large-scale fish removal project in the Rock River,
Wisconsin, we were encouraged to conduct toxicity experiments
with the amphipods Gammarus pseudolimnaeus Bousfield and
Hyalella azteca (Saussure), the isopod Asellus intermedius Forbes,
and the planar ian Dugesia dorotocephala (Woodworth).

These species are abundant in portions of the Rock River system
and are important fish foods. Gammarus spp. are important in the
diet of a wide variety of gamefish species including brown trout
(Reimers etal., 1955; and Maitland, 1965), brook trout (Rawson and

246

1977]

Baumann et al. — Antimycin A, Toxicity

247

Elsey, 1950), and walleye (Kelso, 19rJS).Asellusspp. are abundant in
the diets of warmouth and largemouth bass (Larimore, 1957) and
brown trout (Ellis and Gowing, 1957). H. azteca occurs in the diets of
black crappie and bluegill (Seaburg and Moyle, 1964) and
largemouth bass (McCammon et al, 1964).

Another consideration in the choice of these test organisms is the
fact of their totally aquatic life cycles. Repopulation would be
difficult in waters where they were completely eliminated. Insect
species with a winged adult stage for dispersal could more easily
reinvade such streams and long-term eradication would be avoided.

Lennon and Berger (1970) reported invertebrate mortalities
observed in field trials, i.e. nearly total kills (99%) of rotifers,
cladocerans and copepods, with partial kills of fresh-water shrimp
and Gammarus spp. In their discussion they indicate that fall frosts
may have been responsible for the zooplankton decline and
postulate that the partial kill of freshwater shrimp was due to
locally high toxicant concentrations. They suggest that dosage
levels of Antimycin A used for fish control (10-15 pg/1) do not
ordinarily adversely affect aquatic invertebrates.

Recent studies on clams (Antonioni, 1974), ostracods (Kawatski,
1973) and caddis flies and Gammarus (Lesser, 1972) indicate that
these animals suffer mortality at low dosage levels of Antimycin A
(10-15 pig/ 1).

EXPERIMENTAL PROCEDURE

The formulation of Antimycin A used was Liquid Fintrol
Concentrate (Ayerst Laboratories, Inc.). An initial stock solution
was prepared in acetone to insure uniformity and provide a stable
solution. The final mixing with water for the desired treatment
dosages was done just prior to the start of each experimental run.
The Antimycin A stock solution was mixed according to directions
of the manufacturer to arrive at the desired dosage.

Individual experiments were conducted with two-liter glass
vessels containing twelve organisms of a single species. These
containers were placed in a water bath maintained at 15C under
constant light.

A. intermedius and G. pseudolimnaeus collected from the Bark
River, Waukesha Co., Wis. were tested with two different types of
water, Biotron tap water (Antonioni, 1974) and Bark River water
collected with the organisms. In these tests, the water was aerated
and the containers were covered with a plastic sheet to prevent

248

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

evaporation. Three Antimycin A concentrations between 5 and 15
pg/ 1 were employed to determine the concentration causing a 50%
mortality (LC 50).

H. azteca from Lake Mendota, Dane Co., Wis., G. pseudolimnaeus
from Parfrey’s Glen Creek, Sauk Co., Wis.; and D. dorotocephala
from Turtox-Cambosco Biological Supply Company were tested in
Biotron tap water without aeration.

In addition, time series experiments were run with H. azteca and
G. pseudolimnaeus. These animals were added to the toxicant at 10
H g/ 1 and were then removed, rinsed, and transferred to untreated
water at various time intervals. This allowed determination of the
time of exposure to cause a 50% mortality (ECT 50).

All experimental animals were acclimated for 24 hr in the
laboratory prior to the experiment. Observations for death were
made at 24 hr intervals, and dead organisms (those failing to
respond to mechanical stimulation) were removed and held in fresh
water for further observation to confirm death. Sick or weak
individuals were not removed.

Mortal itites at 96 hr were analysed by the graphical method of
Litchfield and Wilcoxon (1949) to obtain LC 50 and ECT 50 values.

RESULTS

H. azteca was the most sensitive organism tested with LC 50 of 1.4
pg/l.G. pseudolimnaeus was also quite sensitive with LC 50 values
of 7.2 and 9.0 pg/l. The series of A. intermedius run in river water
gave an LC 50 of 11.8 pg/ 1, but the tap water series showed no
significant mortality at 15 pg/l for 240 hours. This discrepancy
prevents drawing any positive conclusions for Asellus but indicates
the need for more intensive investigation. We found no significant
mortality D. dorotocephala at 15 ug/1 for 192 hr. These results are
summarized in Table 1 and Fig. 1.

While H. azteca was more sensitive in terms of concentration than
G. pseudolimnaeus , it had a higher ECT 50 at 10 qg/1, 5.3 hr
compared to 1.4 hr (Table 2, Fig. 2).

DISCUSSION

Lesser’s (1970) values for Gammarus are noticeably lower than
ours. However, we used different water, a different temperature,
and a different species of Gammarus. Any or all of these factors
could account for the observed differences.

1977]

Baumann et al. — Antimycin A, Toxicity

249

TABLE 1. TOXICITY OF ANTIMYCIN A (LIQUID FINTROL
CONCENTRATE) TO SELECTED AQUATIC
INVERTEBRATES AT 15°C.

Organism

Water

pH

96 hr LC 50 and

95% Confidence Interval
(pg/D

Asellus intermedius
(isopod)

Bark River

8.35

11.8

(7.4-18.9)

Biotron tap

7.45

No significant mortality
at 15 ug/1 for 240 hours

Hycdella azteca
(amphipod)

Biotron tap

7.45

1.4

(0.9-2.2)

Gammarus pseudolimnaeus
(amphipod)

Bark River

8.35

7.2

(5.3-9. 7)

Biotron tap

7.45

9.0

(6.6-12.4)

Dugesia dorotocephala
(planarian)

Biotron tap

7.45

No significant mortality
at 15 ,Mg/l for 192 hours

Biotron tap

7.45

No significant mortality
at 15 , pg/1 for 192 hours

Work with fishes has shown the toxicity of Antimycin A to decline
as pH increases (Berger et ah, 1969). Lesser’s work indicates this to
be true for Gammarus as well. Our data for A. intermedius and G.
pseudolimnaeus show an opposite trend (Table 1), and some factor
in river water may have acted synergistically with Antimycin A to
cause a higher mortality.

The differences in ranking of ECT 50 and LC 50 values for H.
azteca and G. pseudolimnaeus were unexpected, but similar
differences in ECT 50s and LC 50s have been reported for several
fish species (Berger et al, 1969).

Possible toxicity resulting from the acetone in the stock solution
cannot be distinguished from Antimycin A toxicity in our
experiments. No control was run, with acetone and water, since the
primary purpose of our experiments was to determine whether
certain invertebrates would be killed by Antimycin A as
administered in the field, and field formulations used for river
systems in Wisconsin are mixed with acetone.

Our studies indicate that H. azteca and G. pseudolimnaeus are
susceptible to Antimycin A at levels used in fish management (10-15
jUg/1). Since these fish food organisms might be slow to reinvade

250

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 1 — The dose effect for Antimycin A on Asellus intermedins,
Gammarus pseudolimnaeus, and Hyalella azteca.

waters once they have been eliminated, their restocking should be
considered in fish management projects. Since these invertebrates
are not readily available an alternative course might be to leave
some parts of the drainage basin untreated for natural
repopulation.

Due to their sensitivity and ease of handling, both H. azteca and G.
pseudolimnaeus are suitable for bioassay of Antimycin A. These
animals might be preferable to fish for bioassay work because of
easy transportation and maintenance of enough individuals.

1977]

Baumann et al. — Antimycin A, Toxicity

251

FIGURE 2— The time of exposure effect at 10 pg/l of Antimycin A on
Gammarus pseudolimnaeus and Hyalella azteca.

TABLE 2. TOXICITY OF ANTIMYCIN A (LIQUID FINTROL
CONCENTRATE) AT 10 jug/ 1 TO SELECTED
AQUATIC INVERTEBRATES AT 15C.

Organism

Water

pH

96 hr ECT 50 and

95% Confidence Interval
(hours)

Hyalella azteca

Biotron tap

7.45

5.3

(amphipod)

(2.3-12.5)

Gammarus pseudolimnaeus

Biotron tap

7.45

1.4

(amphipod)

(0.9-2. 1)

252

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We thank Dr. John C. Neess and Dr. John J. Magnuson for their
review of the manuscript.

Funds for the use of the Biotron facilities were provided by the
Graduate School Research Committee through Dr. Neess. We
appreciate the assistance of the Biotron staff in implementing this
research.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Antonioni, Mary Ellen. 1974. Antimycin — beyond teleocide. Trans. Wis.
Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 62: 285-301.

Berger, B. L., R. E. Lennon, and J. W. Hogan. 1969. Laboratory studies on
Antimycin A as a fish toxicant. Invest. Fish Control: U.S. Bur. Sport
Fisheries, Wildlife, 26, 1-21.

Ellis, R. J., and H. Gowing. 1957. Relationship between food supply and
condition of wild brown trout, Salmo trutta Linnaeus, in a Michigan
stream. Limnol., Oceanog. 2: 299-308.

Gilderhus, P. A., B. L. Berger, and R. E. Lennon. 1969. Field trials of
Antimycin A as a fish toxicant. Invest. Fish Control: U.S. Bur. Sport
Fisheries, Wildlife, 27, 1-21.

Kawatski, J. A. 1973. Acute toxicities of Antimycin A, Bayer 73, and TFM
to the ostracod Cyprette kawatai. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 102: 829-831.

Kelso, J. R. M. 1973. Seasonal energy changes in walleye and their diet in
West Blue Lake, Manitoba. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 102: 363-368.

Larimore, R. W. 1957. Ecological life history of the warmouth. Ill. Nat.
Hist. Surv. Bull. 27: 1-83.

Lennon, R. E. and B. L. Berger. 1970. A resume on field applications of
Antimycin A to control fish. Invest. Fish Control: U.S. Bur. Sport
Fisheries, Wildlife, 40, 1-19.

Lesser, B. R. 1972. The Acute Toxicities of Antimycin A and Juglone to
Selected Aquatic Organisms. Unpubl. Master’s Thesis, Univ. Wis., La
Crosse, Wis. 41 pp.

Litchfield, J. T. Jr., and F. Wilcexon. 1949. A simplified method of

1977]

Baumann et al. — Antimycin A, Toxicity

253

evaluating dose-effect experiments. Jour. Pharm., Exp. Therap. 96: 99-
113.

Maitland, P.S. 1965. The feeding relationships of salmon, trout, minnows,
stone loach, and three-spined stickelbacks in the River Endrick,
Scotland. Jour. Anim. Ecol. 34: 109-133.

Marking, L. L., and V. K. Dawson. 1972. The half-life of biological activity
of Antimycin determined by fish bioassay. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 101:
100-105.

McCammon, G. W., D. LaFaunce, and C.M. Seeley. 1964. Observations on
the food of fingerling largemouth bass in Clear Lake, Lake County,
California. Calif. Fish and Game 50: 158-169.

Rawson, D. S., and C. A. Elsey. 1950. Reduction in the longnose sucker
population of Pyramid Lake, Alberta, in an attempt to improve angling.
Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 78: 13-31.

Reimers, N., J. A. Maciolek, and E. P. Pister. 1955. Limnological study of
the lakes in Convict Creek Basin, Mono County, California. U.S. Fish and
Wildl. Serv., Fish. Bull. 56: 437-493.

Seaburg, K. G., and J. B. Moyle. 1964. Feeding habits, digestive rates, and
growth of some Minnesota warmwater fishes. Trans. Amer. Fish. Soc. 93:
269-285.

GOVERNMENTAL BODIES CAN OBTAIN
INTEREST FREE LOANS

Edward E. Popp
Port Washington

Government officials should learn that there are ways for
governmental bodies to borrow the funds they need without being
required to pay interest charges for those funds. A small service fee
would have to be paid to cover the cost of servicing the loans, but that
is not an interest charge.

So long as those making the loans do not have to pay interest on the
funds they loan out, they do not have to charge interest from the
borrowers. Commercial banks do not pay interest on the bank credit
they loan out. They only pay interest on their reserves and on any
cash they may loan out. The Federal Reserve Banks do not pay
interest for the bank credit loans they make. They do not even have
any reserves for the checks they issue. Their checks are redeemed
with bank credit, on which they pay no interest.

All of us, especially government officials, will benefit if we learn
of the actions taken by the people in the state of North Dakota. In the
latter part of the 1800s and the early part of the 1900s they were not
happy with the conditions under which they had to borrow money.
Over the years, they organized politically in what was called
Populist Movements. In the election of 1918, the Non-Partisan
League gained control of the State government. In 1919 the State
Legislature passed the laws which established the Bank of North
Dakota for the purpose of “Encouraging and promoting
Agriculture, Commerce, and Industry.” With headquarters at
Bismarck it is the only bank of its kind in the United States.

From its beginning the North Dakota Bank did not intend to
compete with the existing privately owned banks, but rather to
cooperate with them to best serve the needs of the people. That
policy still exists. The Bank makes no loans to private corporations
or individuals, with the exception of loans under VA (Veteran
Administration), FHA (Federal Housing Administration), and
FISL (Federal Insured Student Loans).

A State Industrial Commission composed of the Governor, who
acts as chairman, the Attorney General, and the Commissioner of
Agriculture, operates the Bank. Mr. H. L. Thorndal, the president,
has stated that the Bank of North Dakota is able to loan to the

254

1977]

Popp — Interest-free Loans , Government

255

political subdivisions all the funds they need. But the Bank usually
insists that every issue of notes or bonds over $150,000 be put up for
public sale and the Bank of North Dakota bids on the issue. On
issues of less than $150,000, the Bank will negotiate directly with
the political subdivisions for the rates and terms.

The Bank charges interest for its loans and after paying its
expenses, the remainder, the profit, is turned over to the general
fund of the State. In 1974 the Bank made a net profit of
$9,268,770.41.

The above is what the Bank does. However, because the Bank is a
government agency operating to perform a public service, it is not
necessary that it make a profit for the State. Of course it should not
incur a loss either.

As a public service, a policy could be adopted that the profits
would be returned to the governmental bodies concerned in the
borrowing, instead of being paid to the State. The borrowers who
paid the interest then really could say, “we are paying the interest to
ourselves.” The result would be the same as if no interest were paid.

The people of North Dakota could go one step further. They could
operate the Bank of North Dakota on a 100% bank credit system in a
manner similar to the Federal Reserve Banks operation. The Bank
could adopt the policy that it would not receive or pay out any cash.
It would make loans to governmental bodies by issuing checks on
itself and it would receive payments only in checks. It would be a
completely cashless bank. Let us illustrate with an example:

Let us say the City of Fargo wishes to borrow $1,000,000 from the
Bank of North Dakota. The City will issue $1 ,000,000 worth of bonds
payable to the Bank of North Dakota over a period of five years, with
$200,000 worth of the loan to be paid back annually. No interest will
be charged, only a service fee sufficient to cover the cost of making
and servicing the loan. Let us say a total flat fee of 1% ($10,000). or an
annual fee of $2000 will be charged and payable, also, at the end of
each of the five years.

The City of Fargo, on its part, must levy an irrevocable tax of
$202,000 for each of those five years in order to make the payments.
The Bank will then issue a check of $1,000,000 payable to the City of
Fargo. The City will deposit the check in its demand deposit account
at the Fargo Local Bank and receive $1,000,000 worth of bank
credit. The Fargo Local Bank will then send the check back to the
Bank of North Dakota and receive $1,000,000 worth of bank credit
in its account there.

256

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The City of Fargo then can issue checks against its account up to
$1,000,000. The persons receiving the checks can deposit in any
bank and receive credit in their accounts. They in turn can write
checks against their accounts. Thus by everyone using checks in lieu
of cash as their medium of exchange, buying and selling can take
place in the usual manner.

When taxpaying time arrives, the people can pay their taxes with
checks to the City of Fargo. The City of Fargo will deposit those
checks in its Fargo Local Bank and receive credit for them.

At the end of each year when the payments on the bonds are due,
the City of Fargo will issue a check for the amount due and send it to
the Bank of North Dakota. The Bank will credit the City for the
amount paid and debit the Fargo Local Bank for that amount and
return the endorsed check to the F argo Local Bank which will debit
the City of Fargo’s account and return the cancelled check to the
City Treasurer.

That procedure will be repeated at the end of each of the five years
at which time the principal will be repaid without any interest
charges. The bank’s cost of operations will be taken care of by the
$2000 annual fee.

The reason it will not be necessary for the Bank to charge any
interest on its loans is because it will not use any of its own cash and
it will not have to borrow cash from anyone or pay interest to
anyone. The only income the Bank will need is the amount necessary
to pay the total cost of its services, i.e. the annual fee of $2000.

The reason the Bank of North Dakota can issue checks without
having any cash on hand is because the Fargo Local Bank and 167 of
the 170 banks in the state maintain an account with it and it acts as
the clearing bank for those banks. That is the same reason that
Federal Reserve Banks can write out checks with no cash needed to
cash them.

If an annual interest rate of 6% were paid on that $1,000,000 loan,
it would amount to $60,000 for the first year, $48,000 for the second
year, $36,000 for the third year, $24,000 for the fourth year, and
$12,000 for the fifth year. A total of $180,000! Whereas, the total
service fee would be only $10,000.

Conclusion: The problems caused by the interest bearing debts of
governmental bodies are almost overwhelming. Is it not time that
some efforts be made to devise a means of freeing ourselves from the
burden of those huge interest payments?

1977]

Popp — Interest-free Loans, Government

257

Surely, we and our government officials should at least want to
benefit from the experience of the people in North Dakota. Even
though the Bank of North Dakota does charge interest on the loans it
makes to governmental bodies, it turns much of that interest into
the general fund of the State, thus reducing by that amount, the
need for levy of state taxes. North Dakota has made a good start. Let
us carry on from there.

ASPECTS OF THE BIOLOGY OF NELUMBO
PENTAPETALA (WALTER) FERNALD,

THE AMERICAN LOTUS, ON
THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI

S.H. Sohmer

University Wisconsin
— La Crosse

ABSTRACT

Several populations of the American lotus in the vicinity of La
Crosse, Wisconsin have been studied for several years. Most of the
habitats now occupied in this area did not exist before the creation
of extensive backwater areas by the lock and dam system in the late
1930s. The populations studied are each relatively uniform as to
certain morphological features, but usually differ significantly in
these features from one another. They demonstrate high pollen
fertility and few chromosomal aberrations, but relatively low seed
set. Comparison of the results of inter- and intra-populational
crosses carried out in 1974 indicates that the low seed set occurring
naturally in these populations may not be due solely to the source of
pollen in a cross, but to factors which include the nature of the
pollinating mechanism, the parasitism of the plants by larvae of the
Pyralid moth, Ostrinia penitalis (Grote), and the damage caused by
Agelaius phoeniceus L., the redwing blackbird, seeking these larvae
in the flowers of the lotus.

INTRODUCTION

This study was initiated to determine the reasons for the low seed
set observed in some local populations of the American lotus. The
scope of the work has expanded as more of the biology of this
organism became known and its role in the ecosystem better
appreciated. The area of study on the Upper Mississippi River
presently possesses one of the largest concentrations of lotus in the
United States. The completion of the lock and dam system on the
Upper Mississippi River in the late 1930s and the subsequent
formation of the so-called navigation pools, which are in essence
large backwater reservoirs that aid in the maintenance of the
present nine-foot navigation channel, created the habitats presently
inhabited by the species in the area.

258

1977]

Sohmer — American Lotus , Upper Mississippi

259

Although work has been stimulated by the unique longevity of the
seeds of the Oriental lotus (Ohga, 1926a, b, c ,d; Shinano et al. 1966;
and Toyoda, 1965, 1967), and although considerable anatomical,
morphological, and taxonomical studies have been done with the
genus (Cheadle, 1953; Cronquist, 1968; Khanna, 1965; van Leeuwen,
1963; Li, 1955; Lyon, 1901; Takhtajan, 1959; Wood, 1959; York,
1904), little has been done on the reproductive biology of the genus
as it exists in nature. Meyer (1930) studied the growth and
vegetative development of the American lotus, and Hall and
Penfound (1944) studied certain aspects of the biology of the same
species in the Tennessee Valley Administration Lakes.

METHODS AND MATERIALS

The field studies were conducted during the summers of 1972,
1973 and 1974. The populations utilized are described in Table 1. To
randomly sample the populations for the morphological features
measured, a string was stretched between two poles and all of the
emergent leaves underneath this string and all of the flowers
associated with these leaves, were sampled. An emergent leaf is
usually associated with a flower which arises from the same node.
The smaller floating leaves produced earlier in the growing season
were never utilized for these measurements.

All crosses were carried out in the field. Flowers were bagged
with Duraweld 9” x 12” pollinating bags (Scarborough, England)
one to several days before anthesis, and all crosses after the first
year were carried out only with flowers that had opened in the bags.
The bags were identified, and the flowers were staked in order to
prevent them from tipping into the water (Plate 1, Fig. 13, 14).

As it proved impossible to determine whether a certain number of
flowers in a given population were produced by the same or
different plants, all flowers were considered borne by separate
individuals. A possible source of error, therefore, was introduced
into all of the intra-populational crosses. The vegetative inter¬
mingling of different individuals, results from the fact that
vegetative growth proceeds from the many tubers produced by a
single plant the previous year; thus it is difficult, if not impossible,
to pick out individual plants with any certainty. The experimental
design called for five groups. Two consisted of flowers that were
bagged without prior treatment and flowers that were bagged after
the stamens had been removed. Two other groups consisted of

©Ip

260

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

PLATE 1, FIGURES 1-14

1. Recently opened flower. X 1/5. 2. Recently opened flower with tepals

pulled away to reveal stamens tightly appressed to the receptacle. X 1/6. 3.
Flower on morning of third day. The perianth has spread away from the
receptacle and the anthers have begun to dehisce. X 1/5. 4. Flower on

afternoon of third day. Anthers have dehisced and along with most of the
tepals, will soon abscise. 5. Flower on morning of the third day with the

1977]

Sohmer — American Lotus , Upper Mississippi

261

anthers beginning to dehisce. An individual of Apis mellifera L. is
gathering pollen. X 1/5. 6. Nearly mature receptacle with fruit visible in

the carpellary pits. Several undeveloped carpels are in the undeveloped
part of the receptacle in narrow and pinched carpellary pits. X 1/5. 7.

Floating and early aerial leaves, showing severe damage caused by the
larvae of Ostrinia penitalis (Grote). X 1/10. 8. A young receptacle

severely infested by 0. penitalis larvae. One nearly mature larva shown on
top of the receptacle. X 1/3. 9. Undeveloped and developed receptacles.

Neither the carpels nor the receptacle at left developed. X 1/5. 10. Flower

damaged by Agelaius phoeniceus L., the redwing blackbird, as it searched
the flower for larvae of 0. penitalis. 11. Larva beginning pupation in the
petiole. X 3/7. 12. Maturing receptacle damaged by redwing blackbirds.

X 1/5. 13. One of the populations utilized in the study. Stakes used to

prevent pollinating bags from tipping into the water. 14. Pollination
control bag (9" x 12").

flowers that were bagged and utilized in the intra- and inter-
populational crosses. The fifth group consisted of flowers (=
individual as above defined) that were staked and marked, but not
bagged. These open pollinated flowers were the controls.

Floral buds at the appropriate stage of development for
cytological analysis were collected in a modified Carnoy’s fluid
consisting of chloroform: absolute ethanol: acetic acid (4:3:1). The
apical portions of the perianths were removed before the buds were
placed in the fluid in order to insure immediate penetration to the
anthers. After 24 hours or more they were stored in 70 percent
ethanol in a refrigerator until used. The cytological preparations
were made by squeezing the pollen mother cells out of the anthers in
a drop or two of aceto-orcein. Chromosome configurations were
studied and photographed several hours after preparation.

For the germination experiments, the fruit walls were surface
sterilized in a 50 percent solution of chlorox for several seconds,
washed, and then nicked with a hacksaw. They were placed in flat,
wide trays into each of which a constant flow of tap water was
directed. The experiment terminated 10 days after the last
observed germination.

RESULTS

Population structure

The populations are found in backwaters or in protected sites
along sloughs out of the direct flow of water. They occur in depths
from 0. 15 to 1.4 m, as measured at the onset of flowering. Most of the

262

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

populations were found in about 1 m of water at anthesis. Substrates
vary from a relatively firm mucky sand to very soft muck. Organic
matter and silt are high in the substrates at all sites. The rhizomes
and tubers lie from 5 to 40 cm below the surface of the substrate, but
usually between 10 and 25 cm. They are found deeper in mucky
substrates than in sandy substrates.

Intra-populational morphological variation was shown to be
significantly less than inter-populational variation during analysis
of variance (p=.05). This tends to support the observations of
Heritage (1895), Lowry (1924), Meyer (1930), and Hall and
Penfound (1944), that vegetative reproduction is responsible for
most of the growth in an established population. See Meyer (1930)
and Hall and Penfound (1944) especially for their reviews and study
of the rate and nature of vegetative spread of the lotus and the role of
the tubers in this regard.

The populations appear to be isolated by the physical parameters
of water depth and the rate of water flow. Given favorable
conditions in a given area, a population will expand and eventually
occupy that entire area. However, there will be no vegetative
intermingling between two populations occupying favorable areas
that are separated by an unfavorable discontinuity in water depth
or flow. A fast-flowing slough, for example, may be relatively
narrow, but the barrier it presents to the vegetative spread of
populations on either side is probably absolute. While the intra-
populational variation is relatively small, there are frequently
startling differences between populations (Table 1, 2). These
differences are statistically significant (p=.05.). A hypothesis
concerning this inter-populational variation is yet to be tested and is
the subject of another phase of this work.

Flowering

Flowering begins in this region in late July and continues until
mid or late August. This is nearly 2 months later than the flowering
period reported by Hall and Penfound (1944). There may be as
much as a two-week difference in the onset of flowering of local
populations. There are many commentaries regarding flowering
(Lowry, 1924; Robertson, 1889; Taylor, 1927, to mention a few early
reports). These authors recognized that variation was to be
expected in floral behavior even within the same population. Fig. 1-
4 show some of the stages in the flowering process. Flowers usually
close during the first two nights after anthesis and open in the

1977]

Sohmer — American Lotus , Upper Mississippi

263

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264

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

TABLE 2. COMPARISON OF THE SIGNIFICANT DIF¬
FERENCES BETWEEN THE POPULATIONS OF
LOTUS UTILIZED IN THE STUDY WITH
RESPECT TO CERTAIN MORPHOLOGICAL
CHARACTERISTICS.

Populations
(See Table 1)

Blade Width

Characteristics (+a -b)
Petiole Length

Peduncle Length

I X II

+

+

+

I X III

+

+

+

I X IV

+

+

-

II X III

+

+

+

II X IV

-

+

+

III X IV

+

+

+

+a = significant difference exists between the populations compared for that
characteristic (p = .05)

-b = no significant difference exists between the populations compared for that
characteristic (p = .05)

morning. During the first two days the stigmas are receptive and
the anthers are held tightly against the sides of the receptacle by the
perianth. The flowers are protogynous and there is apparently no
overlap between receptive stigmas and dehiscent anthers but this
can vary, as mentioned above. None of the flowers that were bagged
before anthesis and left alone produced fruit or seed. The numerous
perianth parts begin to turn yellow several days before anthesis.
The opening usually occurs during the morning. The experimental
crosses that were successful were those made with fresh pollen and
carried out before 12M.

Nelumbo pentapetala is entomophilous. The flowers attract a
variety of insect visitors, as has already been shown by Robertson
(1889), and from his list, as well as our observations, pollination
appears to depend principally on members of the Apidae, and
Andrenidae (Hymenoptera), and Syrphidae (Diptera). Individuals
of Apis me Hi f era , the common honey bee, were the most frequently
observed insects gathering pollen (Fig. 5). Most insect activity is
over by 12M. Greatest activity occurs between 8 and 10 a.m. on a
sunny day. There is no correlation between opening and closing
movements of flowers and pollination by beetles here.

Development of the fruit

If pollination is followed by fertilization in a given flower, the
receptacle rapidly expands in size as the fruit develops. The

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Sohmer — American Lotus, Upper Mississippi

265

car pell ary pits expand to accommodate the developing fruit. As the
fruits shrink in the final stages of development, they come to lie
loosely in saucer shaped depressions (Fig. 6). That the development
of the fruit has a direct bearing on the development of the
surrounding portions of the receptacle is shown by the fact that if a
receptacle has, for example, only 3 or 4 fruits developing out of a
possible 25, only that portion of the receptacle surrounding the
developing fruit also develops. The receptacles of flowers with
undeveloped fruit do not enlarge at all (Fig. 9). Mature fruits can be
gathered 4-6 weeks after pollination and are usually chocolate -
brown or purplish-brown in color. I should here point out that I use
the strictly botanical terminology concerning the fruit. The
receptacle is not part of the fruit, and the indehiscent nut which is
the fruit should not be called a seed when the entire fruit is meant.

Post-fertilization movements of the receptacle are well-
documented and readily observed. Often, the portion of the
peduncle below the receptacle causes the receptacle to turn (Fig 12).
There is literature alluding to the receptacle breaking off at the
point of attachment to the peduncle and floating, carpellary pit side
downward, and thus acting as a float to disperse the fruit
(Sculthorpe, 1968; Wood 1959). In the area of study, however, the
receptacles often remain attached to the peduncles into the fall and
throughout the winter as well, and are usually empty of their fruit
by the time they do fall. The fruits sink at first but rise when
germination begins. The young seedlings float for a time also.

Pollen Sterility and Cytology

The populations were sampled for pollen sterility during 1973
and 1974. Approximately 506 pollen grains were scored for each
flower. Pollen which did not take up stain, and micropollen were
considered sterile. The number of these kinds of pollen for each
flower was averaged to yield the populational totals, reported
separately for each year in Table 3. All of the populations were
investigated cytologically. Most meiotic divisions appear normal,
and the haploid number of chromosomes in these populations was
found to be eight, as previously reported by Farr (1922) and Langlet
and Soderberg (1927). Aberrations, particularly the presence of
univalents, occur sporadically in all populations. The presence of
univalents provides the cytological basis of the occurrence of the
micropollen (Table 3) observed.

TABLE 3. SEED SET AND POLLEN STERILITY IN THE SAMPLE POPULATIONS OF

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Nb - the number of individual flowers sampled for pollen. Approximately 500 pollen grains were scored per flower.

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267

Crossing Experiments and Seed Set

It was apparent after the conclusion of the first season of work
that Nelumbo pentapetala in the Upper Mississippi is either self¬
incompatible or the protogynous mechanism is completely efficient.
It was also apparent that seeds are not produced apomictically. No
mature or developing seeds or fruit were ever found in the
experimental group in which the flowers were bagged before
anthesis and permitted to proceed through the season in that
fashion. This was repeated each year with the same results. No
seeds or developing fruit were found in the flowers from which the
stamens had been removed and which were bagged, prior to
anthesis and treated as the former group.

In referring to seed set in Nelumbo , one refers actually to the
fruit, as mentioned previously, as each seed is found singly within a
very hard fruit wall. There was no difficulty encountered in
interpreting mature ovules as the ovules and the fruit expanded in
size after successful fertilization. Frequently, fruit expanded a
little in unpollinated flowers but remained abnormally small, and
dissection of such a fruit demonstrated that the ovule within it had
not developed. All mature fruit with seeds were taken as evidence of
successful crosses.

During the course of the seed germination experiments, it was
discovered that no population demonstrated a germination rate of
less than 50 percent and population III had a germination rate of
77.4 percent. Despite the experimental design of the germination
experiments the seeds were attacked by the water mold,
Saprolegnia; otherwise the germination rate would probably have
been greater. In any case, the relatively high germination
substantiates the interpretation that fully expanded fruits contain
fertile seeds.

Table 3 records all the inter- and intra-populational crosses for
1974, the year in which the mechanics of performing the crosses was
perfected. For the purposes of this paper, all inter-populational
crosses that occurred within a given population are combined
regardless of the pollen source. The author will make available on
request a list of the actual crosses made. Again, for the purpose of
comparing inter- versus intra-populational crosses in a given
population, the number of seeds set in the experimental individuals
is measured against the total number of carpels that were present in
those individuals.

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Parasitism by Moths

The American lotus is liable to attack by a variety of insects. In
the Upper Mississippi, the larvae of the lotus borer, Ostrinia
penitalis (Grote), (Pyralidae), cause a considerable amount of
damage in many populations. Welch (1919) has treated various
aspects of the morphology, taxonomy and biology of 0. penitalis ,
and a detailed description of the morphology and habits of the
larvae in the Illinois River area is given by Hart (1895). The basic
life history of the species has been dealt with in some detail by
Ainslie and Cartwright (1922), concerning a population of the lotus
in East Tennessee.

On American lotus in the Upper Mississippi River, the larvae of
0. penitalis appear on the early emergent leaves of the plant
sporadically during the early part of the growing season (Fig. 7).
However, as the floral buds appear and develop, the number of
larvae also increases until a peak is reached during anthesis. The
early larvae on the leaves are usually not numerous enough to cause
much damage, as they eat their way across the lamina to the
centrally located petiole into which they bore and pupate (Fig. 11).
An experiment performed in 1974 in which mature receptacles
were placed in wire cages and left exposed to the elements during
the winter of 1974-75 demonstrated that the larvae can overwinter
in silk-lined chambers in the receptacles, and pupate in the spring.
Adult moths began emerging on 17 May 1975, which was about the
same time that the first floating leaves of the lotus appeared locally.
This more or less confirms what Ainslie and Cartwright (1922)
suspected as the manner in which the life cycle is completed.

It is the larvae which hatch from eggs placed on the flower buds or
flowers that cause the greatest amount of damage to the plant, for
they will cause the destruction of all or a part of the developing
carpels, depending on the number of larvae and the stage of
development of the flower (Fig 8). As many as 15 larvae have been
recovered from individual receptacles. A plant without any larvae
at all was rare in any population in 1974. Ainslie and Cartwright
(1922) found that 5.9 percent of the lotus population they worked
with was infested. They estimated that about 35 percent of the
potential seeds in the infested flowers were destroyed. The redwing
blackbird, very common in the area during the summer, amplifies
the potential damage of the moth larvae, for they have learned to
slash apart the flowers and the expanding receptacles in search of
the larvae (Fig. 10,12). In population III for example, all of the

1977]

Sohmer — American Lotus , Upper Mississippi

269

controls were infested with larvae and most had been slashed by the
redwing blackbird. This latter damage obscures that caused by the
larvae and both kinds of damage obscure the number of carpels that
fail to develop in a given flower due to lack of pollination and/or
fertilization.

DISCUSSION

The majority of the habitats presently occupied by lotus in the
study area were formerly alluvial forests, meadows, and marshes.
Evidently, between the original inundation after dam building in
the late 1930’s the lotus moved into areas as they became favorable.

Unfortunately, we have no record of the flora of the area, except in
general terms, before the locks and dams were constructed. We can
assume, however, that the lotus was found, probably infrequently,
in the quieter parts of the river. From these established populations,
propagules in the form of seeds or seedlings would have been
dispersed to new areas as these habitats became available, and this
radiation permitted the juxtaposition of elements of the lotus which
may have been geographically isolated along the old river. At what
point these habitats became “closed” to the establishment of
propagules is unknown, but the situation now is probably one where
all available habitats are occupied and further increase will result
mainly from the vegetative expansion of existing populations into
adjacent areas that become ensilted as time passes.

It is probable that the morphological uniformity of most
populations is based on a relatively low genetic variability imposed
by the manner in which a population is established and is
maintained. Open environments conducive to the growth of
Nelumbo pentapetala must, as noted, be colonized by seeds or
seedlings, as the tubers are not readily dispersed. The nature of the
population that develops is therefore dependent upon the genetic
composition of the disseminules. Once a population is established, it
is doubtful whether new seedlings can compete successfully with
the rapid vegetative growth of that population (Meyer, 1930).
Rhizomes are long, branch regularly and frequently, and give rise
to the tubers that carry the species through the winter and from
which new growth proceeds the following spring.

The effect of sexual reproduction in populations of Nelumbo
pentapetala on the Upper Mississippi River is felt over a long rather

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

than short period. The year-to-year maintenance of populations is
probably due to vegetative reproduction. However, as mentioned,
seeds and seedlings must be the means of establishing populations
in newly created favorable environments or in areas where the
former populations have been destroyed. The mechanics of
flowering and particularly the protogynous nature of the flowers
indicates a strong tendency to favor outcrossing. It comes as a
surprise at first, therefore, to see that sometimes there may not be a
great difference between the experimental inter-populational
crosses and intra-populational crosses as measured by seed set.
With the information provided by seed set in the controls however,
one soon realizes that the relatively low seed set observed in
populations of the lotus may be due not so much to the source of the
pollen, as orginally hypothesized, but rather to other factors, such as
the damage caused by the larvae of 0. penitalis (Grote). The
experimental crosses were, as far as sexual reproduction is
concerned, carried out under the best possible conditions for the
plant. Fresh pollen was placed on all the receptive stigmas of the
flowers, the flowers were searched for larvae which were removed,
if found, usually at stages before they had bored into the receptacle.
Also, the bags over these flowers not only protected them from
extraneous pollen, but also from further infestations by the moths
and attacks by the redwing blackbirds. The results of the
experimental crosses indicate that, given the best possible
conditions for pollination, seed set will usually be higher than one
would normally expect from merely observing populations. This is
true, whether one uses pollen from within a population or from a
different population. An incompatibility factor is probably in¬
volved, however, particularly in population III, because all intra-
populational crosses were less fruitful than inter-populational
crosses. At this point it has not yet been possible to perform the
critical experiment of knowingly crossing flowers produced by the
same individual within a population, because it has been impossible
to recognize with certainty a given individual in the field. Isolation
of a single tuber in an isolated farm pond would yield the conditions
whereby this could be determined with our local populations.
Population III is also the one which has constantly suffered the
greatest insect attacks, and the low seed set of its controls, relative to
the controls in the other populations, reflects this. The results of the
control group on population II may be related to the consistently
higher pollen sterility in this population.

1977]

Sohmer — American Lotus , Upper Mississippi

271

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This study has been supported by grants from the University of
Wisconsin-La Crosse Institutional Studies and Research Com¬
mittee, and from the River Studies Center of the University. A
number of individuals have at one time or another accompanied me
into the field and aided me: Dr. John R. Porter, Dorothy Demaske,
Kathy Jaeger, Steven Swanson, and Sally Markos. Ms. Deon M.
Nontelle first pointed out to me the low seed set in one of the
populations. I thank Drs. Robert W. Cruden, Jerry D. Davis,
Thomas 0. Claflin, D. Jay Grimes, and an anonymous reviewer, for
reviewing the manuscript, and Ms. Donna Pedersen for typing it.
Dr. Ronald Hodges of the Systematic Entomology Laboratory of the
U.S.D.A. identified the Pyralid moth and other insects for me and
has furnished me with the basic taxonomic history of the organisms.
Ms. Laura Schuh has given much time and effort to the en¬
tomological aspects of this study.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ainslie, G. G., and W. B. Cartwright. 1922. Biology of the Lotus Borer
(Pyrausta penitalis Grote). U.S.D.A. Bull. 1076. 14 pp.

Cheadle, V. I. 1953. Independent origin of vessels in the monocotyledons
and dicotyledons. Phytomorph. 3:23-44.

Cronquist, A. 1968. The Evolution and Classification of Flowering Plants.
Thomas Nelson and Sons, Ltd., London 396 pp.

Farr, C. H. 1922. The meiotic cytokinesis of Nelumho. Amer. Jour. Bot.
9:296-306.

Hall, T . F . , and W . T . Penfound. 1944. The biology of the American lotus,
Nelumho lutea (Willd.) Pers. Amer. Midi. Nat. 31:744-758.

Hart, C. A. 1895. On the entomology of the Illinois River and adjacent
waters. Bull. Illinois State Lab. Nat. Hist. 4:149-273.

Heritage, B. 1895. Preliminary notes on Nelumho lutea. Bull. Torrey Bot.
Club. 22:265-271.

Khanna, P. 1965. Morphological and embryological studies in
Nymphaeaceae. II. Brasenia schreberi Gmel. and Nelumho nucifera
Gaertn. Austral. Jour. Bot. 13:379-387.

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Lang-let, 0. F. J., and E. Soderberg. 1927. Uber die Chromosomenzahlen
einiger Nymphaceen. Acta Hort. Berg. 9:85-104.

Li, Hui-Lin. 1955. Classification and phylogeny of Nymphaeaceae and
allied families. Amer. Midi. Nat. 54:33-41.

Lowry, R. B. 1924. The American lotus. FI. Grower 11:1-5.

Lyon, H. L. 1901. Observations on the embryogeny of Net umbo. Minn. Bot.
Stud. 2:643-655.

Meyer, W. C. 1930. Dormancy and growth studies of the American lotus,
Net umbo lutea. Plant Physiol. 5:225-234.

Ohga, I, 1926a. The germination of century-old and recently harvested
Indian lotus fruits with special reference to the effect of oxygen supply.
Amer. Jour. Bot. 13:754-759.

Ohga, 1 . 1926b. A comparison of the life activity of century-old and recently
harvested Indian lotus fruits. Amer. Jour. Bot. 13:760-765.

Ohga, I. 1926c. A double maximum in the rate of absorption of water by
Indian lotus seeds. Amer. Jour. Bot. 13:766-772.

Ohga. I. 1926d. On the structure of some ancient, but still viable fruits of
Indian lotus, with special reference to their prolonged dormancy. Jap.
Jour. Bot. 3:1-20.

Robertson, V. 1889. Flowers and insects. III. Bot. Gaz. 14:297-304.

Sculthorpe, C. D. 1967. The Biology of Aquatic Vascular Plants. Edward
Arnold, Ltd., London. 610 pp.

Shinano, S., Y. Shimada, and G. Tamura. 1966. Studies on protease in lotus
seed. Part I. Detection of protease in crude extract of lotus seed and
partial purification of the enzyme. Agr. Chem. 40:185-189. (In Japanese)

Takhtajan, A. 1969. Flowering Plants: Origins and Dispersal. Oliver and
Boyd, London. 310 pp.

Taylor, H. J. 1927. The history and distribution of yellow Nelumbo , water
chinquapin or American lotus. Proc. Iowa Acad. Sci. 34:119-124.

Toyoda, K. 1965. Glutathione in the seed of Nelumbo nucifera. Bot. Mag.
Tokyo 78:443-451.

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Toyoda, K. 1967. Hydrogen evolution in seeds of Nelumbo nucifera and
other angiosperms, Bot. Mag. Tokyo 80:118-122.

van Leeuwen, W . A . M . 1963. A study of the structure of the gynoceium of
Nelumbo lutea (Willd.) Pers. Acta Bot. Neerland. 12:84-97.

Welch, P. S. 1919. The aquatic adaptions of Pyrausta penitalis Grote
(Lepidoptera). Trans. Amer. Entomol. Soc. 12:213-226.

Wood, C. E., Jr. 1959. The genera of the Nymphaeaceae and
Ceratophyllaceae in the Southeastern United States. J. Arnold Arbor.
40:94-112.

York, H. H. 1904. The embryo-sac and embryo of Nelumbo. Ohio Nat.
4:167-176.

COMPARISON OF WOODY VEGETATION IN THREE
STANDS NEAR NECEDAH, WISCONSIN

B. J. Cox
Northbrook , Illinois

ABSTRACT

Forest stands studied west of Necedah, Wisconsin are com-
positionally similar but vary considerably in abundance and size
measurements across the drainage catena. Pinus strobus , P.
banksiana, Quercus ellipsoidalis , Q. alba, Q. velutina, and Acer
rubrum are the dominant species in the area, and are generally
found in the various stands, but they range from high importance
status at one end of the gradient to minor importance at the other.
The composition, abundance, and total stem size of stands are
influenced by past physical influences, such as fires and logging, as
well as by topographic and edaphic features.

INTRODUCTION

On the east side of the Wisconsin River between the Petenwell and
Castle Rock flowages, 4 miles east of Necedah in Adams County, are
woods that have been variously affected by human activities and
physical factors. A long history of influences by Indian and white
men precedes the present situation. With fire, by far the most
important influence prior to European colonization, the Indian
changed a large portion of the entire vegetational complex of
Wisconsin (Curtis 1959). Fires were set to drive game, to improve
berry crops, and to make traveling easier. In the early years of
European settlement, the most important vegetational changes
were caused by the reduction of fires. Most of the present pine
forests date back to the beginningof protection from fires in the late
1800s (Curtis 1959). The major influence by white man upon
vegetation was logging. By 1898, nearly the entire Wisconsin area
had been logged. In recent times, the area has been developed
mostly for agriculture, forestry, and recreation, although it is
sparsely populated. A relatively rich terrestrial floral and faunal
assemblage occurs here, as well as good quality aquatic habitat.

While conducting a baseline survey to determine the composition
and abundance of terrestrial biota within a 2000-ha area, a
vegetational gradient was detected relative to the drainage catena.
Although presence of arborescent species is generally uniform
across the catena, relative proportions vary considerably. The

274

1977]

Cox — Trees, Necedah Area

275

objective of this paper is to examine three wooded stands located
along the catena from lowland (near the river) to upland (inland),
and to describe their relationships.

The site is physically located in the Maple-Basswood Forest
Region, but the woods are much like those of the Great Lake Section
of the Hemlock-White Pine-Northern Hardwoods Region (Braun
1950). The wooded stands key to Curtis’ Dry-Mesic Northern
Hardwoods (Stand 1) and Dry Northern Hardwoods (Stands 2 and
3) communities.

Geology and Soils: The site lies in the Driftless Section of the
Central Lowland Physiographic Province (Braun 1950). The
terrain is generally flat with sandy plains, marshy lowlands, and
low hills. The elevation ranges from 890 ft. to 950 ft.; wetlands are
generally below the 900 ft. contour. The area has glacial outwash
deposits. Soils range from poorly drained in Stand 1 near the
Wisconsin River to excessively drained in Stand 3 away from the
river (U.S. Dept. Agr. 1970).

The soils of Stand 1 are primarily of the Adrian Series with
portions of the Morocco Series; both are poorly drained. The Adrian
soils consist of 45-100 cm of muck overlain by sand or loamy sand.
The water table is high and the soil has moderately rapid
permeability with high available water capacity. The Morocco soils
are coarse textured, both in the surface layer and in the subsoil with
low available water capacity; permeability is very rapid.

In Stand 2, soils are of the Plainfield Series, with moderate to
excessive drainage. Soils are generally sandy, overlain by acid sand
on outwash plains and stream benches. They have low available
water capacity and rapid permeability.

Soils of Stand 3 are of the Sparta Series which are excessively
drained sandy soils with thick dark surface layers. They have low
available water capacity with moderately rapid permeability.

Climate: The Wisconsin climate is typically continental. The
average annual temperature varies from -8,5 to 22.4 C, with a mean
of 7.5 C recorded at the Hancock Experimental Farm. The mean
maximum January temperature is -2 to -4 C, whereas the mean
minimum- is -14.5 to -15 C. July mean maximum temperatures are
27.8 to 28.9 C and the mean mimimum is 23.2 C. The mean annual
precipitation is 75.4 cm with an average of 91.4 cm of annual
snowfall. Two-thirds of the annual precipitation falls during the
growing season (freeze-free period, mean of 120 days). Wind is

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

highest in winter from a general northwest direction, and lowest in
the summer from south-southwest. Mean relative humidity varies
from 75 to 86% at midnight and from 51 to 70% at noon.

METHODS

Wooded stands showing the least amount of recent disturbance
during the life of the current generation of trees were selected for
sampling in 1974-1975. Stands were also selected on the basis of
uniform topography, size, and apparent homogeneity. Trees were
measured by the point method, with 40 points per stand; saplings
were measured by 15-m line intercepts, located at alternate points
perpendicular to the transect; and, seedlings were counted in 1 m2
circular plots, centered at each point. The presence of vines, shrubs,
and herbs was also recorded in the plots and/or along line
intercepts. The size classification adopted for the arborescent
species was as follows; seedlings, less than 30 cm high; saplings,
greater than 30 cm high, but less than 2.5 cm dbh (diameter at
breast height); and trees, 2.5 cm dbh and greater. Absolute and
relative values of frequency, density, and dominance were
determined for trees; importance values were calculated as the sum
of the relative values. Nomenclature follows Gleason and Cronquist
(1963).

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

Fifteen tree species were recorded in the present survey. Most
were represented by trees with diameters 30 cm dbh and larger, a
group constituting 23% of the 480 trees sampled. In Stand 1, the
most mesic area, 30% of the trees sampled were 30 cm dbh or larger;
in Stand 2, located approximately midway along the moisture
gradient, 25% were in this size category; and, in Stand 3, the most
xeric area, only 14% were 30 cm dbh or larger. Trees of
representative species with the greatest girths sampled in the three
stands were; Pinus strobus , 67.3 cm dbh; Quercus ellipsoidalis , 66
cm dbh; Q. velutina , 63.5 cm dbh; Q. alba , 47 cm dbh; Acerrubrum
44.2 cm dbh; Pinus banksiana, 30.2 cm dbh and Populus
grandidentata, 30 cm dbh. Height of the three stands ranged
between 14.8 and 18.0 m. The forests of this site are second growth.
Extensive areas south and northwest of the study area are marsh,
where aspen dominates the borders. Aspen are also locally

1977]

Cox — Trees , Necedah Area

277

important in several lowland areas, but are generally considered to
be species of relatively short duration in any particular site. They
generally mature in 40-60 years (Fralish 1975) in favorable sites
and are succeeded by hardwood-conifer components. In some sites,
however, aspen communities are regenerated because as nearly
pure stands mature, uneven deterioration occurs leaving openings
where miscellaneous tree and shrub species invade. In other sites, as
a stand matures, it deteriorates rapidly and there is a rapid
conversion with shade-tolerant species from the understory
(Fralish 1975).

Stand 1:

Finns strobus was the dominant tree with 10. 1 cm dbh or larger in
Stand 1 (Fig. 1). Common associates were Q. alba , Q. ellipsoidalis ,
and A. rubrum. The importance value of P. strobus (119) was equal
to the sum of the importance values of the two oak species. Species in
the stand that occurred less frequently were Betula papyrifera ,
Pinus resinosa , Populus grandidentata, Prunus serotina , and
Quercus velutina , with a cumulative importance value of 28.

Basal area, indicating dominance, reflects the total area occupied
by stems. The basal area of trees 10.1 cm dbh or larger was 37.5
m2/ha. Pinus strobus contributed 50% of the basal area for the entire
stand. Quercus alba , Q. ellipsoidalis , and A. rubrum cumulatively
contributed 44.5% of the basal area.

Of the smaller trees 2.5-10.0 cm dbh, A. rubrum and Q. alba were
prominent species with P. strobus a strong associate. These three
species represented over two-thirds of the total importance value
for this size class. Species of lesser importance were P. serotina, Q.
ellipsoidalis, P. virginiana, Crataegus sp., B. papyrifera, and
Ulmus americana.

Tree density in Stand 1 was 956 stems/ha, of which 416 stems/ha
(44%) were small trees 2.5-10.0 cm dbh. The densities of P. strobus
and Q. alba were nearly equal, approximately 250 stem/ha,
followed by that of A. rubrum with 200 stems/ha. Pinus strobus
demonstrated the most even distribution of stem sizes in the 8 size
classes (Table 1), ranging from 7 stems/ha in the largest class of
stems 55 cm dbh and larger, to 60 stems/ha in the 10.1-17.5 cm dbh
size class; 35 stems/ha were recorded in each of two categories 2.5-
6.1 cm and 6.2-10.0 cm (presented as one size class in Table 1).
Greater densities were recorded of both A. rubrum and Q. alba
small trees 2.5-10.0 cm dbh, than of P. strobus stems of relative sizes.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Stand 1 Stand 2 Stand 3

Pinus

strobus

Quercus

alba

Quercus

ellipsoidalis

Acer

rubrum

Pinus

banksiana

Quercus

velutina

FIGURE 1. Phytographs of dominant arborescent trees. Dotted lines
represent absolute frequency (f), density (de), and dominance
(do) and percent representation among size classes (sc). Solid
lines represent relative frequency (rf), density (rde), and
dominance (rdo) and the importance value (iv). The key in the
lower left indicates the scale of values.

1977]

Cox — Trees, Necedah Area

279

However, the density of P. strohus stems in the larger classes 10.1
cm dbh and greater was 71% higher than that of A. rubrum and 36%
higher than that of Q. alba.

Arborescent species with the most frequent occurrence in the
seedling and sapling classes were A. rubrum, P. serotina, Q. alba ,
and P. virginiana (Table 1). Acer rubrum ranked first in both
categories.

Herbs and low shrub species of the ground layer of Stand 1 were
Elymus virginicus, Cornus sp., Sanicula, sp., Smilax hispida,
Pteridium aquilinum, Rosa sp., Carex sp., Geranium maculatum,
Galium boreale, Desmodium nudiflorum, Maianthemum canadense,
Uvularia sessilifolia, Dioscorea villosa, Lathyrus tuberosa ,
Lysimachia ciliata, Trientalis borealis, Lysimachia quadrifolia,
Amphicarpa bracteata, Osmunda regalis, Spiraea latifolia,
Onoclea sensibilis, Agrimonia gryposepala, Parthenocissus quin-
quefolia, Monarda fistulosa, Thelypteris palustris, Phlox sp.,
Smilacina stellata, Rhus radicans, Goodyera repens, and Aster spp.

Non-tree species occurring in the sapling (shrub) stratum were
Corylus americana, Rex verticillata, Cornus racemosa, Viburnum
dentatum, Smilax hispida, Ribes missouriense, and Vaccinium
angustifolium.

Stand 2:

Pinus banksiana was the most important large tree species
(importance value of 128.2), followed by Q. ellipsoidalis (94.0), P.
strobus (47.5), Q. velutina (22.8) and Q. alba (7.5). In the small size
class of 2.5-10.0 cm dbh, P. strobus and P. banksiana demonstrated
nearly equal importance (100), and Prunus serotina, Q. alba, and Q.
ellipsoidalis demonstrated equal values of approximately one-
fourth that of the pines.

The total basal area of trees 10.1 cm dbh and larger in Stand 2 was
22.4 m2/ha. Quercus ellipsoidalis contributed 39.7% of the total
basal area, P. banksiana — 26.8%, P. strobus — 15.6%, and Q.
velutina — 14.3%. Quercus velutina and Q. ellipsoidalis were the
most abundant seedlings. In the sapling stratum, P. serotina also
ranked high in frequency of occurrence.

The density of trees in Stand 2 of 942.3 stems/ha was nearly equal
to that in Stand 1; however a greater portion of the stems (58%) were
small trees in Stand 2. Although a greater percent of the small
stems of the 2.5-10.0 cm class were P. strobus (37%) with the second

280

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

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282

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

largest being P. banksiana( 30%), larger tree densities (10.1 cm dbh
or larger) were predominantly of P. banksiana (58%), Q.
ellipsoidalis (25%), and P. strobus (12%). Most of the large stems over
32.6 cm dbh were oaks. Quercus ellipsoidalis reflected the most
even distribution in the various size classes.

Herbaceous species in the ground layer of Stand 2 were Carex sp. ,
Rubus sp., Euphorbia corollata , Smilacina stellata, Rumex
acetosella , Rhus radicans , and Vitus sp. Non-tree species occurring
in the shrub stratum of Stand 2 were Corylus americana ,
Zanthoxylum americanum , Ribes missouriense , Rubus alleghe-
niensis, Vitis sp. and Cornus sp.

Stand 3:

Quercus ellipsoidalis was the dominant tree species of stems 10.1
cm dbh and greater in Stand 3 (importance value of 212). Other
species present were P. strobus, P. banksiana , and Q. velutina with
importance values of 42, 38, and 8, respectively (Fig. 1). Pinus
strobus, P. banksiana and Q. ellipsoidalis shared high importance
values of 92.5, 90.6, and 78.8, respectively, in the small tree size class
of 2.5-10.0 cm dbh.

The total basal area of trees 10.1 cm dbh and greater was 18.1
m2/ha; Q. ellipsoidalis contributed 78.5%, and P. strobus
contributed 12.7%. Quercus ellipsoidalis , Q. velutina, and P.
serotina were the most abundant seedlings and saplings.

The density of trees in Stand 3 was 592.3 stems/ha. Most trees
were large, with only 36.5% in the 2.5-10.0 cm dbh size class. Of the
small trees, 78.5 stems/ha were P. banksiana and 56.8 stems/ha
were recorded each for Q. ellipsoidalis and P. strobus. Quercus
ellipsoidalis was the most dense large tree of 10.1 cm dbh and
greater with 282 stems/ha, 75% of the total. Quercus ellipsoidalis
demonstrated the most even distribution among size classes of any
species. Pinus banksiana and P. strobus each had approximately 45
stems/ha, each 12% of the total large tree density.

Herbaceous and low shrub species in the ground layer were Carex
sp., Rubus sp., Chimaphila umbellata, Smilacina stellata,
Euphorbia corollata , Apocynum sp., Rhus radicans, Rosa sp., and
Lactuca biennis.

Non-tree species in the shrub stratum of Stand 3 were Rubus spp.,
Cornus racemosa, Vaccinium angustifolium , Rosa sp., Corylus
americana, and Amorpha canascens.

1977]

Cox — Trees, Necedah Area

283

Stand Comparisons:

Stand 2 exhibited the greatest total similarity to Stand 3 in all
strata (Fig. 2). The greatest similarity was betweeen the small tree
strata (79%), largely due to the common occurrence of P. strobus and
P. serotina in the understory. The large tree and seedling strata
exhibited nearly equal similarity values, 70.4% and 69.4%,
respectively, whereas the similarity between sapling strata was
only 56.4%. The high percent similarity between large tree strata

jjjj] Trees > IO.I cm dbh

STAND COMPARISONS

FIGURE 2. Percent similarity of stands by strata. Values are based on
relative frequencies using 100 a/6, where a is the sum of the
shared values of the two compared strata and 6 is the sum of
the values exhibited individually.

284

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

was largely due to similar occurrences of Q. ellipsoidalis , P.
banksiana , and P. strobus in Stands 2 and 3, whereas that of the
seedling class was due to Q, ellipsoidalis and Q. velutina.

In a comparison of Stand 1 with Stand 2, small tree strata
demonstrated a moderate similarity (51.4%), largely due to the
similar occurrence of P. strobus and P. serotina in both stands.
Other strata comparisons indicated less than 41% similarity. The
occurrence of P. strobus and Q. ellipsoidalis in the large tree strata
was similar between the two stands.

All percent similarities of strata between Stand 1 and Stand 3
were below 37%. The large tree strata demonstrated the greatest
similarity (36.7%), followed by the small tree strata (34.9%), sapling
strata (32.7%), and seedling strata (25.2%). In the over-story, P.
strobus and Q. ellipsoidalis demonstrated the most similar
occurrence in both stands. In the small tree strata, P. strobus and
Prunus serotina had the most similar occurrences. The occurrence
of P. serotina, P. virginiana, and Q. ellipsoidalis contributed most
highly to the similarity index of the sapling strata. Seedlings of Q.
ellipsoidalis and P. serotina had similar high occurrences in both
stands.

Several phytosociological trends were seen along the drainage
catena. Absolute and relative values of frequency, density, and
dominance for P. strobus increased along the moisture gradient
(Stands 3 to 1, Fig. 1). The greatest variety of P. strobus stem sizes
was found in the most mesic area. Quercus alba demonstrated a
similar trend; Q. alba was most important in the most mesic habitat,
with little representation in the two most xeric stands. The trend of
Q. ellipsoidalis was opposite that of P. strobus; all parameters
measured for Q. ellipsoidalis increased from the mesic to the most
xeric area. Percent representation of Q. ellipsoidalis stems in the
size classes was equal in the two xeric stands. These trees are
susceptible to damage by ground fires but rapidly regenerate
afterward by sprout production. The presence of A. rubrum was
notable only in the most mesic habitat of Stand 1. P. banksiana was
most prominent in Stand 2, although this species was represented
by a limited variety of stem sizes. Logging and fires tend to enhance
conditions for P. banksiana at the expense of P. resinosa and P.
strobus (Braun 1950). Stems were dense but of uniform size. The
basal area of P. banksiana was low in both Stand 2 and 3. Quercus
velutina had its greatest development in Stand 2, although it was
not particularly prominent in the forests of the Necedah area. Q.
velutina tends to grow best in sites of moderate available moisture.

1977]

Cox — Trees, Necedah Area

285

Although the species is generally considered to be intolerant of
shade, it is frequently found beneath Q. ellipsoidalis.

Total basal area of small trees 2.5-10.0 cm dbh increased along the
catena, with 0.6 m2/ha in Stand 3, 1.0 m2/ha in Stand 2, and 1.3
m2/ha in Stand 1. Small tree stems were most dense and
represented the greatest percent of the total density of stems 2.5 cm
dbh and greater in Stand 2 (549 stems/ha, 58% of total); Stand 1 had
416 stems/ha, 43% of total; and Stand 3 had 216 stems/ha, 36% of
total. Basal area of trees 10 cm dbh and larger decreased across the
gradient from Stand 1 to Stand 3. Similarly, density of large trees
decreased across the gradient, but that of Stand 2 (394 stems/ha)
approximated that of Stand 3 (376 stems/ha); Stand 1 had a density
of 540 stems/ha of trees 10 cm dbh and greater. The total density of
all trees 2.5 cm dbh and greater was nearly equal in Stands 1 and 2,
whereas that in Stand 3 was much less.

The stability of these stands is low. In the absence of fire or other
disturbances, they are essentially one-generation forests. Pines are
intolerant of their own shade and may gradually be replaced by
hardwoods. Pinus strobus, although certainly a dominant in Stand 1
and more shade tolerant than P. banksiana or P. resinosa, will
probably eventually give way to A. rubrum and Q. alba, provided
that the moisture regime remains constant. Due to the xeric
conditions in Stands 2 and 3, successional trends will probably lead
to Q. ellipsoidalis dominated forests. The composition and
abundance of species in future forests at these locations will
probably follow a similar trend along the drainage catena.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Braun, E. L. 1950. Deciduous Forests of Eastern North America. Hafner
Press, New York. 596 pp.

Curtis, J. T. 1959. The Vegetation of Wisconsin. University Wisconsin Press,
Madison. 657 pp.

Fralish, J. S. 1975. Ecological and historical aspects of aspen succession in
northern Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts Lett. 63: 54-65.

Gleason, H. A. and A. Cronquist. 1963. Manual of Vascular Plants of
Northeastern United States and Adjacent Canada. Van Nostrand
Reinhold Co., New York. 810 pp.

U. S. Dept. Agr. 1970. Soils interpretations. Soil Conservation Service,
Friendship, Wisconsin.

MEXICAN-AMERICAN MIGRANTS IN WISCONSIN,
WITH PARTICULAR EMPHASIS ON MIGRANT
FARM LABOR

James Provinzano

University Wisconsin
—Oshkosh

The article sketches the immigration of people of Mexican
heritage to Wisconsin and explores some aspects of the adaptions
they have made, and some of the social, economic and cultural-
ideological consequences of these adaptations.

The Mexican-American group is composed of Americans of
Mexican heritage, many of whom are long-time residents of the
United States, even before there was a United States of America in
some cases. The group also contains more recent immigrants, legal
and illegal, from Mexico. We call these two categories of people
Mexicanos.

Most Mexicanos live in the Southwestern United States: in Texas,
New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, Utah and California (see Table 1).
United States acquisition of these territories was a process attended
by disputation in the mid-nineteenth century; it changed a number
of Mexicans to American citizens. Systematic land expropriation,
largely by informal means, left these new citizens with little regard
for the U.S.A. and its justice.

Furthermore, there is the matter of continuing immigration.
Emigration from Mexico to the United States occurred at a slow
rate, on the basis of demand for migrant labor mainly in the
Southwest, until the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920. Attended by
much civil disorder, the Revolution precipitated rapid migration to
the United States (Gamio, 1930), again largely to the Southwestern
U.S.A.

Focusing on the Midwest

During World II labor shortages led to the use of Mexicanos in
Midwestern United States (Hill, 1948). The importation of labor
from areas of labor surplus to areas of labor scarcity took two forms:
either urban (and permanent) or rural (and seasonal).

Urban migration attracted Mexicano workers as cheap labor in
times when labor was scarce. Since World War II the rate of in-
migration to the cities has fluctuated in response to numerous
factors, including job availability in the Southwest vs Midwest, the

286

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

287

TABLE 1. MEXICAN-AMERICANS AS A SEGMENT OF
POPULATION OF THE SOUTHWESTERN

State

Total Population

Mexican-American Population

No. %

Arizona

1,811,500

270,000

15

California

20,830,000

1,675,000

8

Colorado

2,110,000

187,000

8.8

New Mexico

1,085,000

356,000

32.8

Texas

11,380,000

1,883,000

16.5

**Total

37,216,500

4,371,000

11.7

*Grebler et al. 1970 pp. 605-608

**It is estimated that census gathering of data on Mexican-Americans is sufficiently
in error to allow an estimated additional 700,000 individuals in the total number of
Mexican-Americans in the Southwest.

general economic climate and so on. In some cases the migrants
returned home, when work slackened.

Social science studies of Mexicano migrants to the urban Midwest
include: Humphrey (1944) for Detroit, Mich., Macklin (1963) for
Toledo, Ohio, Taylor (1930) for Bethlehem, Pa., Shannon and
McKirn (1974) for Racine, Wis., and Samora and Lamanna (1967)
for East Chicago, Ind. The following generalizations emerge from
these studies:

1. Language problems are a persistent difficulty in effective
communication of the Mexicano migrant with other citizens.

2. Employment is almost entirely in blue-collar jobs of low skill
levels.

This latter statement is a continuing fact. For example, Samora and
Lamanna (1967) found that in East Chicago, a community with a
Mexicano component dating to before World War II, 90% of
Mexicanos had blue-collar jobs. Shannon and McKim (1974) found
some improvement in Racine in the proportion of white collar
Mexicano employees between 1960 and 1971, but the percentages
are still in the range found by Samora and Lamanna.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

As these blue-collar Mexicano communities grow, largely by
chain migration2, ethnic enclaves with discrimination and lack of
social, educational and skill resources develop into persistent
components of the cities involved. In Wisconsin, Racine, Milwaukee
and Kenosha are excellent cases in point.

According to Shannon and Morgan’s study of Racine (1966)
Mexicanos were significantly worse off than either Anglos or
Blacks in terms of such factors as income, education, status of
employment, social participation, occupational mobility, standard
of living and level of aspirations. Thus urban Mexicanos not only
tend to become ethnic enclaves but their future chances are poor
because they are not acquiring those things which would permit
them to break out of their situation.

Let us now turn to rural Wisconsin Mexicano migrants.

In the period of severe labor shortage of the 1940s, Wisconsin
farmers and canners sought outside labor to supplement the local
sources depleted by military service. A major available source was
Mexicano migratory labor from South Texas. The workers were
skilled; they worked hard; they accepted long hours and relatively
low wages, and were generally available year after year. Thus the
investment of time, money and effort to provide the cyclic migrants
with housing, transportation and other needs was worth it to the
farmers and canners. (Hill, 1948).

Many workers were needed because of the labor-intensive system
of picking and packing the crops involved. For the most part, this
situation was due to the inherent difficulties of mechanization or to
the small effort to mechanize those crops on the part of agricultural
engineers. This fact is significant for the future of farm labor, since
efforts to mechanize go forward only so long as price for the crops
involved warrant it. As successful machines are built, they will be
used, thus reducing the need for migratory labor to the vanishing
point for that crop, local skilled labor being sufficient to fully
mechanized agriculture.

In the 1940s the newly recruited Mexicanos worked so well that
after the World War II they continued to be employed. In fact,
particular growers and particular migrant families or crew leaders
often established a vertical mutual dependence or patron-client
relationship in which; inexpensive, skilled farm labor was provided
at the right time in exchange for work and seasonal housing.

This relationship between farmer and migrant is often per-
sonalistic and affective (this is less likely in relation to univer-
salistic, affectively neutral canneries). One can speak of the

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

289

paternalism of the farmers and the loyalty of the migrants, which is
actuated by self-interest, but often the affection seems genuine
enough, nevertheless. Examples of the paternalism include
growers bailing migrants out of jail following arrests on
drunkeness charges, giving credit references for migrants at local
businesses and even lending money to migrants to buy a farm and
“settle out” of the migrant stream (Provinzano 1971). The last goes
rather farther than pure self-interest would dictate. Although it is
unusual, it is not strikingly out of character for at least some of the
growers.

Wages

Despite the above, wages of the migrants still tend to be
extremely low. The following example will indicate the problem, as
it pertains to cucumber workers (WSES, 1967).

Mean hours worked per day...... . 5.89

Mean hourly earnings, $ . . . 1.51

Mean pounds harvested per hour . 79

*Mean earnings per day $..... . . . 8.89

Mean earnings per 6 day, $ . 58.84

*U.S. farm labor in general earned $10.05 per day (mean).

The above data coverall categories of workers — adults and children
working as family unit.

Computed from the migrants’ average wage, $3541.77 would be
the income of a family of four, all working full time for the
maximum number of days migrants work, about 100. If one
compares this income with the $3200 rural poverty level set by the
President’s Council of Economic Advisors (1969) for that year, one
can see that it seems hardly worthwhile to work in such
circumstances. Especially is this true considering how hard
migrant work is.

Working and Living Conditions

Working and living conditions of migrant farm laborers have
been exposed in television specials (e.g. CBS classic Harvest of
Shame), countless news and feature articles in the popular press and
in many other organs of communication and otherwise. Conditions

290

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

in Wisconsin do not seem as bad as some described and pictured
elsewhere.

Farm workers, whether field or cannery workers, work long
hours, broken by gaps caused by rain, uneven ripening of produce
and, frequently, poor grower organization and planning. All but the
latter cause are endemic to agriculture and mostly unavoidable.
The poor organization and planning of growers, however, occurs
because many farmers themselves are not highly skilled managers.
In order to make best use of farm labor, a farmer should plan so that
the workers can be kept continuously busy. Examples include the
planting of successional crops or planting the same crop in series to
make hand harvesting more possible. He can also plant the crops,
fertilize, and irrigate so that yield per plant makes the piece¬
working farm laborer feel that the effort expended is worthwhile.

Unfortunately, for both the farmer and the laborer, many
farmers do not do these things well. This leads the migrant worker
to seek work primarily with farmers whose fields are attractive.
This is especially true of the family-type worker unit, which will
establish a rather lasting tie with a particular farmer provided
their experience is profitable. If it is, they may return year after
year and maintain contact over the winter through occasional
letters.

Cannery workers are also subject to violent fluctuations in
amount and duration of work, since the crop will not wait and
eighteen-hour days at a rush, succeeded by idle days, are part of the
nature of the job. Canners’ attempts to reduce this boom-and-bust
cycle have been largely ineffective.

Farmers and canners generally provide housing as part of the
overall financial arrangement. Those utilities which are provided
(minimally electricity and water) may or may not be charged for.
Housing is generally cramped, at times scandalously so, but is
generally clean. Bathing and clothes washing facilities are often
provided, but are often rather primitive and inadequate. Canneries
usually provide a commissary at which food, usually cooked by a
Mexicana, is provided for a fee. Old barns and even old chicken
coops occasionally are provided as “housing”. Luckily this is
becoming rare in Wisconsin. In one instance very poor housing was
provided by a farmer, but it was hard to criticize him when his own
house had dirt floors. The range of variation of housing quality is
rather great. Canneries will generally paint up their housing to look
nice at a distance and put a good sized field between it and public
highways.

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

291

The application of regulations on migrant housing through
enforcement procedures is very difficult. Inspectors are few, camps
are many and scattered, and harvest seasons are short enough that
compliance may come after the housing has been vacated.

Problems of Organization

The migrants have little power to improve wages, working
conditions or living conditions. First of all, they lack the wealth to
sustain a strike. The nature of their economic resources can be
surmised from the information on wages given previously.
However, if this were the only obstacle to organization, they would
probably have been organized effectively long ago through
affiliation with larger labor unions with the resources to support a
strike.

Other obstacles to organization include the following:

a. Insecurity : There is first of all a surplus of farm labor most of the
time. Mechanization and related efficiencies, plus crop diver¬
sification has reduced job availability. Secondly, the relationship
between a farm worker and employer often is not simply
employee-employer, but personal and long-term as well. The
worker is a “client”, the farmer is a “patron”. This makes the
worker unwilling to offend this source of livelihood and perhaps
this “friend”, too. The affective component should not be ignored.

b. Labor cost: Planting a labor-intensive crop has depended upon a
substantial supply of skilled, cheap labor. If the cost of that labor
were to go too high, the farmer would tend to purchase a machine
to do the job, if one exists for the crop involved, or he would switch
to a mechanized crop. In the case of canneries the wealth and
labor surplus factors are also applicable, whereas the long-term
employer-employee relationship and mechanization factors are
less significant. However, canneries are usually part of a large
company which has many plants and which can afford losses at
any one for extended periods. In some cases, especially if the
plant is not very profitable, they may even shut down a plant
troubled by labor organization (this did happen at one plant
during the author’s research).

The above facts lead to the disturbing conclusion that far from
warmly embracing organization attempts, migrant farm workers
find that such attempts threaten what they do have.

292

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Impact of Migrant Workers on the Community

The migrant farm workers do have a substantial impact on the
communities they service. First of all, although their incomes are
relatively small, their aggregate buying power in this, their flush
time, is considerable in the communities of relatively small
population surrounding their work places. They buy food, dry goods
and even durable goods. Most merchants look forward to their
coming and often stock certain items especially to appeal to them
(eg. pinto beans, western hats and the like).

F urthermore the migrants’ presence creates jobs for people such
as State Employment Service local coordinators, irrigation gangs
(local people, generally), social service aides, extra retail sales
employees and so on. The migrants’ presence can mean community
prosperity. In fact the migrants are the key to the labor-intensive
agricultural system in the communities they visit and work in.

Discrimination — A Surprise ?

Based upon the above description, an outside observer might
expect the farm workers to be hailed as welcome, though temporary
additions to the community, since after all they are indispensable to
the economic life of the communities as that life is currently defined.
We find, however, that this is not so. Mexicano migrants are not
welcome in most local bars; they are patronized or treated rudely in
retail establishments; they are treated with a wary, contemptuous
suspicion by officers of the law. People say that they are drunks, that
they carry knives, that they are stupid, that women are not safe
around them.

One may explain these local attitudes as the normal xenophobia of
an insular farming community, except for the following facts;
tourists in these areas are welcome with much less hostile
resentment, and the farmers tend to be less likely to share these
negative attitudes (presumably personal contact reduces the
tendency to stereotype). A more plausible explanation may be that
of racist stereotype; Anglos discriminating against Mexicanos.
There is undoubtedly more to this explanation than to the previous
one, but it is incomplete as well, since Anglo farm workers tend to
meet the same attitudes, if their occupation is known to the
townspeople. Thus a complete explanation of the phenomenon of
prejudice and discrimination should include xenophobia, racism
plus a contempt for people who are poorly paid, transient, and live in

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

293

poor accommodations. The migrants do not live the good life, as it is
defined in materialistic America. Therefore they are stigmatized .

As should be clear from the foregoing discussion, the stigmatiz¬
ing of Mexicano farm workers in Wisconsin is a complex process
with many constituent elements in it. To describe the causes of the
stigmatization as being due to the rapacious cruelty of farmers and
canners is as oversimplified as was the portrait of Simon Legree in
UNCLE TOM’S CABIN an oversimplification of the nature of
slavery. If one were seeking to put together a tract with
organizational ends in mind (eg. to be used to help unionize farm
workers), then such oversimplification is pragmatically justifiable
(but only to “fan the flames of discontent”). However, such tracts
should not then be labelled social science.

Whatever circumstances may be for migrant farm workers in
other parts of the country, in Wisconsin they are caught up in a
system in which their desirability as workers is their low cost, their
proficiency and their availability for short term seasonal work.
Anything that would tend to alter any of these three factors would
tend to make them less desirable employees. Since most of their
employers are small, not very efficient and under-capitalized
farmers who are being squeezed by cost-price pressures
themselves, organization of field workers in labor unions is a very
unrewarding venture. Efforts to turn cannery workers in the
direction of unionization have met with more success and
organizers have, therefore, increasingly focused upon this latter
group.

What the Future Holds

For migratory farm workers, especially for field workers who are
the majority, increasing mechanization, rampant inflation and
increasing resentment of stigmatization all have led to search for
alternatives to migrant agricultural work. The obvious possibility
is to leave the migrant stream, and many have done this. They
“settle out”, in many cases simply by staying home and trying to
make a go of it in places like Brownsville and Crystal City in Texas.
These are places of labor surplus, and so this solution is not very
satisfactory. Many settled-out migrants in Wisconsin described to
the present author what appeared to them to be the limited choices
available to them, which eventually brought them to take up
permanent residence in Wisconsin.

294

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Generally speaking, there are two modes of settling-out at some
point on the migrant stream:

1. Involuntary settling-out. Those who settle out of the migrant
stream out of desperation are included in this category. Often
their decision has an unplanned quality. They do not know
what to do: previously dependable sources of agricultural
employment have dried up, financial resources of agricultural
employment have been spent, relatives or friends offer as their
only real aid the suggestion that they settle down in X
community. The involuntary settled-out usually find X
community to be the hispanic ghetto of a central city. In
Wisconsin it is often Milwaukee.

The author has seen people in this category on welfare or
with very menial jobs. However, a few do succeed in finding
positions of some substance, although always blue collar work.
Whether they eventually find relative prosperity or not,
individuals in this group tend to feel that they are not actively
involved in charting their own destinies.

Much attention has been paid to the involuntarily settled-out
migrants by service agencies, both public (esp. United
Migrant Opportunity Services) and private (eg. the Catholic
Church). This is as it should be, since this category contains
those who are most in need of aid. There is, however, another
category of settled-out migrants to whom less attention is
generally paid.

2. Voluntary Settling-Out. This category contains individuals or,
more frequently, families who settle out of the migrant stream
because they wish to improve their economic situation and
choose to do so, not out of desperation, but because alternatives
to migration seem attractive and they feel some confidence
that they can manage the new life.

The author’s research on this latter group has focused on a
rural area and a medium-sized city, both in Central Wisconsin.
Individuals in this group are more like the indigenous Anglo
population than they are like the average migrant (Table 2).
They have more schooling than the average migrant (3.3 years
more), are bilingual, have small families (4.4 persons vs.
migrants’ 7+) and, very significantly, have voluntarily settled
into an Anglo community which has no coherent Mexicano
community whatsoever. The author found in Fond du Lac
(population approximately 40,000) that the twenty-seven

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

295

TABLE 2. SETTLED-OUT MEXICANOS COMPARED WITH
NON -SETTLED-OUT MEXICANOS (SAME
LOCALITY) AND WITH ANGLOS OF FOND DU

LAC,

1971.

Mexicanos

Anglo families

Settled-out

Non-settled-out

No. families

27

58

25

No. persons
(adults+children)

120

435

92

Mean family size

4.4

7.5

3.7

% adults bilingual

100

58

-

% migrated in
parental generation

97

-

6

Mean residence in
city, years

16

-

22

Mean schooling
adults

8.1

4.8

*10.4

% HS graduates

35

8.8

(10 of 114)

*44.2

% male laborers
(construction,
general)

50

* 4

Mean family
$ income, yr

6,040

2,631

*7,837

Income range, $

Unemployed
to 12,500

Unemployed
to 6, 100

*Unemployed
to 50,000

^Source— Wisconsin Statistical Reporting Service and U.S. Census Bureau,
Regional Census Data.

settled-out Mexicano families were not even aware of each
other’s existence in many cases. Specifically, no one family
knew of more than six other Mexicano families and the mean
was three.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The first problem was locating them. As a dispersed non-group,
social angencies were of little help to us. We found that “Chicano ex-
migrants” was more an analytical and less a folk category than we
had believed possible. Finally we located them by chain identifica¬
tion. That is, each family knew about one or two others until we had
located the full 27 families.

A few of the migrants who settled-out did so at great obvious
advantage to themselves and with very little risk. One individual,
for example, bought a good working farm on the outskirts of town
with the money to pay for it lent, interest free, by a former employer,
a local grower-patron. Such a situation is most unusual. Generally
those who settled out did so to enter wage work with little risk-
reducing aid.

In interviews and other contacts, as the researchers came to know
the ex-migrants and to comprehend their adaptations, a contrast of
the general parameters of those who voluntarily settle-out, as
compared to those migrants who do not settle out, began to emerge.
Some factors are quantifiable or are expressible in mutually
exclusive categories as in Table 2.

This form of settling-out also was a long-term phenomenon (one
family had settled-out in 1946). Mean income in 1971 was $6,040 per
family, compared to $7,837 for the city’s Anglos. Other comparisons
are equally instructive. For example: income differentials indicate
clearly that self-selected or voluntarily settled-out families earn
substantially more than those who continue migrating. On the other
hand, the income differential between the settled-out group and the
other Fond du Lac families can generally be explained on the
grounds that the settled-out group tends to be involved almost
exclusively in non-manager ial, blue collar laboring and related
fields.

Based upon the above data, we may summarize the
characteristics which separate the voluntarily settled-out migrant
from the continuing migrant and, from the involuntarily settled-out
migrants as follows— they:

1. have a smaller number of children

2. have a greater facility in English

3. have more formal education, often including high school
graduation

4. have substantially greater income without the child labor of
farm work

5. have the willingness to go it alone, even to sever supporting ties

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

297

of kinship and friendship with other Mexicanos (Provinzano,
1971).

The above characteristics (especially the last) suggest that there
are in the voluntarily settled-out group, some rather “Anglicized”
Mexicanos. This type of voluntary settling-out, isolated as it is from
the familiarity of a Mexicano community and the support of
kinsmen, generally requires that the family possess a fair skill with
English, confidence that the family breadwinner can get and keep a
job, relative lack of dependence on traditional supportive (kinship
or friendship) ties and some sophistication at self-integration into
the Anglo community.

The question which occurred to our research team at this point
was as follows: Was submergence of ethnicity necessary for
comfortable adaptation to an Anglo sociocultural context? Subse¬
quently, was any anti-Mexican prejudice encountered in the
community? Relevant to these questions, two of the student team
members did in-depth interviews with eleven adolescents from
settled-out families. Most of these adolescents (8 of 11) had been
born in Fond du Lac. From this investigation the following
generalizations emerged:

1. The adolescents expressed little feeling of pride in, or
knowledge of La Raza or of Mexicanness, although one parent
or both had been born in Mexico in 80% of the cases.

2. There was little knowledge of the Brown Power Movement.
Cesar Chavez was just a public figure name to most of them.

3. Five of the eleven spoke only English. Places of birth: Fond du
Lac 8; Texas 2; Mexico 1.

4. They seemed to be aware of discrimination on a very low and
subtle level, but tended to attribute it to idiosyncracies of the
individual Anglo involved, rather than a group trait of Anglos.

5. They concurred that opportunities for them were not quite
what they would be for an Anglo, but seemed to feel that by
hard work they could make up the relatively small inequity.

These adolescents admittedly live in a community peripheral to
main, traditional Mexican-American population centers and
peripheral to Chicano activism as well. However, this does not
gainsay the fact that they have carried further a process begun by
their parents (who express much more awareness of discrimination
in Fond du Lac). The phenomenon described above may well be
called the process of Anglicization and assimilation. It suggests that
successful, dispersed settling-out into Anglo communities is
possible, but only at the price of submergence of ethnicity. If the

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

ideology of Brown Power does not penetrate Chicano consciousness
in Fond du Lac soon, one can hypothesize attempts to “pass” as
Anglos, name changing, and eventual efforts to achieve a dissolu¬
tion of Chicano identifiability and consciousness.

This possibility may be viewed as not only inevitable, but
desirable by many of those involved. If so, it will be interesting to see
how far such dissolution goes, and also interesting to see how the
darker-skinned individuals deal with color problems, especially as
more inter-marriage with Anglos is attempted. Some future
experience with Brown Power may be hypothesized, the results of
which in Fond du Lac may be significant, though we tend to doubt
it, unless the individual migrates to an area with a high Chicano
population density in another city.

It is, perhaps, unfortunate that the cost of assimilation in this
context at least, is the apparent loss of cultural distinctiveness and
heritage. Alternatively, the involuntarily settled-out family may
live in a situation that does permit the maintenance of Mexicano
tradition, although often enmeshed in a spiral that spells poverty.

NOTATIONS

1. The author has been leading a team conducting research from
1969 to the present on Mexican migrant farm workers in a
rural Wisconsin county as well as on settled-out migrants in a
number of areas in Central Wisconsin.

2. Chain migration is a process by which migrants aid and
encourage friends and relatives from the home area to join
them. Obviously there is substantial potential for geometric
growth.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Gamio, M. 1930. Mexican Immigration to the United States.
Chicago, University of Chicago Press.

Grebler, L. et al. 1970. The Mexican- American People. New York.
Free Press.

Hill, G. W. 1948. Texas-Mexican Migratory Agricultural Workers
in Wisconsin. Mimeo. Wis. Agr. Expt. Sta., Madison

1977] Provinzano — Mexican- Americans, Rural Wisconsin

299

Humphrey, N. D. 1944. The Detroit Mexican immigrant and
naturalization. Social Forces 22: 332-335.

Macklin, B. J. 1963. Structural Stability and Culture Change in a
Mexican-American Community. Ph. D. Dissertation. Univ.
Pennsylvania.

Provinzano, J. 1971. Chicano Migrant Farm Workers in a Rural
Wisconsin County. Ph. D. Dissertation. Univ. Minnesota.

Samora, J., and R. Lamanna. 1967. Mexican-Americans in a
Midwest Metropolis: A Study of East Chicago. Advance Report
8, Mex-Amer. Study Project. Los Angeles: Univ. Chicago.

Shannon, L., and J. McKim. 1974. Mexican-American, Negro and
Anglo improvement in labor status between 1960 and 1970 in a
Midwest community. Soc. Sci. Quart. 55: 91-111.

Shannon, L., and P. Morgan. 1966 The prediction of economic
absorption and cultural integration among Mexican-
Americans, Negroes and Anglos in a northern industrial
community. Human Organization 25: 154-162.

Taylor, R. S. 1930. Mexican Labor in the United States: Bethlehem,
Pennsylvania. University of California Publ. in Econ., Vol 7,
No. 1.

U. S. President’s Council of Economic Advisors. 1969. Economic
Report to the President, January. Washington, D. C. U. S. Govt.
Printing Office.

WSES. 1967. Cucumber Wage Survey in Waushara County,
Wisconsin. Wisconsin State Employment Service, Madison.

ADDRESSES OF AUTHORS

ALANEN, ARNOLD Dept. Landscape Architecture, University of Wisconsin-
Madison, Madison, Wi 53706

AMIN, OMAR M. University of Wisconsin-Parkside, Kenosha, Wi 53140

ANTONIONI, MARY E. (Baumann, Jaeger, Antonioni)

4226 Waban Hill, Madison, Wi 53705

BAUMANN, PAUL C. (Baumann, Jaeger, Antonioni)

Amberlands, Apt. 26-S, Croton-on-Hudson, N.Y. 10511

BUMBY, MARY JANE 500 West Bradley Rd., Milwaukee, Wi 53217

CASTLE, ALBERT New Mexico Military Institute, Roswell, N.M. 88201

COX, B. J. Nalco Environmental Sciences, 1500 Frontage Rd.

Northbrook, Ill. 60062

EL-SHAMY, FAROUK M. 415 Route 303, Tappan, N.Y. 10983

GREEN, THEODORE III (Madding, Scarpace, Green) 2258 Engineering Bldg.
University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, Wi 53706

GUILLIZZONI, PIERO Istituto Italiano di Idrobiologia, Pallanza, Italy

JAEGER, JAMES W. A. (Baumann, Jaeger, Antonioni)

176 River Rd., Columbus, Wi 53925

LANGREDER, THOMAS W. College Human Biology, University of Wisconsin-
Green Bay, Green Bay, Wi 54302

LEE, G. FRED Inst. Environmental Sciences, University of Texas-Dallas.

Box 688, Richardson, Tex. 75080

MADDING, ROBERT P. (Madding, Scarpace, Green) Inst. Environmental
Studies-Marine. University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, Wi 53706

MATTIS, ALLEN F. 9279 East 58th St. Tulsa, Ok 74145

MICKELSON, DAVID M. (Nelson, Mickelson) Dept. Geology, Geophysics,
University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, Wi 53706

MILLER, DAVID E. Horizon Campus, 21st and Kenosha Rd.,

Zion, Ill. 60099

NELSON, ALLEN R. Dept. Geo. Sci. and Inst. Arctic and Alpine
Research, Univ. Colorado, Boulder, Colo. 80309

POPP, EDWARD E. 543 N. Harrison St., Port Washington, Wi 53074

PROVINZANO, JAMES Dept. Sociology/Anthropology. University of
Wisconsin-Oshkosh, Oshkosh, Wi 54901

RING, DANIEL F. Kresge Library, Oakland University, Rochester, Mich. 48063

SARTZ, RICHARD S. North Central Forest Experiment Station, Folwel! Ave.,
St. Paul, Minn. 55108

SCARPACE, FRANK L. (Madding, Scarpace, Green) Civil and Environmental
Engineering, 2210 Engineering Bldg. University of Wisconsin-Madison,
Madison, Wi 53706

SCHAEFER, WAYNE F. Dept. Biology, Univ. Wisconsin— Waukesha.
Waukesha, Wi 53186

SOHMER, S.H. Dept. Biology, University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, La Crosse,
Wi 54501 and Smithsonian Inst. Bot. 166 NHB.

Washington, D.C. 20560

SUPPAN, ADOLPH A. Dean Ermitus of Fine Arts and Prof.

English and Philosophy. University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee,

Milwaukee, Wi 33201

MADISON LITERARY CLUB

— Centennial Dinner Program —
November 8, 1977

ORDER OF EVENTS

Presiding: President Merton M. Sealts, Jr.
Toastmaster: Mark H. Ingraham
Reading of the Papers and the Poem

1977]

The Madison Literary Club

303

Foreword

It is appropriate for the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and
Letters to offer to publish the following papers, which were delivered at the
Centennial Dinner of the Madison Literary Club. The Academy and the
Club have an impressive community of interests and of longevity in the
Madison area, both having attained the magic age of one hundred years.
Membership roles of the two organizations reveal an early and continuing
interlocking of names from Dr. Joseph Hobbins (founder of the Club and
charter member of the Academy) to more than fifty members and co¬
members at the present time. The Ella Giles referred to in the Academy’s
letter to President Sealts became an Academy member during the very
year that she aided in the founding of the Madison Literary Club. The
exchange of letters between the Academy and the Club concerning the
Centennial festivities is herewith recorded.

Professor Merton M. Sealts, Jr.

University of Wisconsin
Department of English
7165 White Hall
Madison, Wisconsin 53706

Dear Professor Sealts:

On behalf of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters,
please accept, and extend to the membership of the Madison Literary
Club, our sincere congratulations and best wishes upon the occasion of
the centennial of the founding of your esteemed organization.

As you may know, the Wisconsin Academy was chartered by the State
Legislature only a few years prior (1870) to the founding of the Madison
Literary Club. In fact, Ella A. Giles, who was a principal figure in the
establishment of your Club, was among the first group of women to apply
for and gain acceptance into the Academy membership. Interestingly
enough, this was in the year of the founding of the Madison Literary Club.
In its earliest years, the Academy took the position that “science and
letters have neither country, color or sex.”

And so, in scholarly interest and in the spirit of fellowship that governs
our two organizations, as well as in historical background and in

304

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [ Vol. 65

membership, we have much in common. It is, perhaps, only natural that
we therefore take special note of your one-hundredth anniversary and that
we rejoice with you in your sense of accomplishment and in your hopes
and plans for the years ahead.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth McCoy
Honorary President

EM:sd

11 November 1977

Professor Elizabeth McCoy
Honorary President, Wisconsin Academy
of Sciences, Arts & Letters
1922 University Avenue
Madison, Wisconsin 53705

Dear Professor McCoy:

On behalf of the Madison Literary Club I am writing to thank you for
your kind letter of congratulations on the occasion of the Club’s
centennial.

As President for 1977-78 I had the pleasure of reading your letter to the
membership at our anniversary dinner last Tuesday evening. Like Ella A.
Giles, whom you mentioned so appropriately, a number of the Club’s
members are also members of the Academy (as I am myself), and you are
certainly correct in saying that the two organizations have much in
common. May both continue to flourish in the years to come!

Cordially,

Merton M. Sealts, Jr.
President, 1977-78
Madison Literary Club

1977]

The Madison Literary Club

305

THE TOASTMASTER’S OPENING REMARKS

THE PAPERS AND THE POEM

On Dr. Joseph Hobbins

On Charles N. Gregory

On James D. Butler and
William F. Allen

On Burr Jones

On Edward A. Birge

The Tardy Muse —

Votive Verses to the
Madison Literary Club

Mark Ingraham

John Mendenhall
Ruth Doyle

Herbert Howe
Janet Ela
Alfred Swan

Frederic Cassidy

THE TOASTMASTER’S CLOSING REMARKS

Mark Ingraham

306

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [V ol. 65

THE TOASTMASTER’S OPENING REMARKS

Mark Ingraham

Before I let anyone else have the floor I want to make one motion and
read a few statistics.

Mr. President: I move that the affectionate greetings of the Club be sent
to Miss Anna (Nan) Birge who took over the duties of a co-member on the
death of her mother in 1918, entertaining the Club ten times before the
death of her father in 1950, when she became an honorary member. She is
now ninety-four, living in the Attic Angel Nursing Home and, though not
physically strong, is clear of mind. [The motion was passed by
acclamation.]

For the last three quarters of a century I have been fascinated by
numbers and, through my connection with the State Teachers Retirement
System even before its official start in 1921, I for some time have been
interested in longevity. I wish to give you a few Club longevity records and
names.

There have been at least 64 persons who have been members, regular,
co-member or honorary, for over forty years and this may be an
underestimate, since we probably do not have a complete account of some
of the earlier co-members. The record for length of membership is not that
of E. A. Birge but of Mrs. F. K. Conover. Starting in 1886 she was an active
member for five years as Miss Grace Clark, then for twenty-eight years a
co-member, and for forty-four years an honoray member, a total of
seventy-seven years! Until extreme old age she came to the meetings
regularly, using the privilege of bringing a guest to secure a chauffeur.
Others who were members for sixty years or more were: E. A. Birge, 73;
Mrs. Charles N. Brown, 67; Mrs. D. B. Frankenburger, 65; Gertrude
Slaughter, 64, the last forty as active member; Mrs. E. C. Mason, 61, the
first forty-one, until the election of her husband, as an active member; and
Mrs. Walter Smith, the mother of one of our speakers tonight, 60 years.

Now, since I myself want to get in on a record, I will list the names of the
men who have been active members for forty-five years or more: Birge, 73;
Burr Jones, 58; Harry Russell, 51; Julius Olsen, 48; Frank Sharp and Alfred
Swan, 46; and Charles Slichter and myself, 45. If Mr. Swan and I are at the
125th anniversary, we still will not have caught up with Birge. I, at least, am
not going to eat yogurt to try to do so.

None of us today can compete with the early members for numbers of
papers, since they often gave one a year and shared an evening’s spotlight
with one another. Birge read 19; James D. Butler 14 (two within three
months); Charles N. Gregory and Gertrude Slaughter 11 (Gertrude

1977]

The Madison Literary Club

307

Slaughter gave the chief talk at the seventy-fifth anniversary); and Burr
Jones and D. B. Frankenburger 10 apiece.

I list only one hostess, Mrs. Lucius Fairchild, who between 1884 and
1923 entertained the Club in her home thirty times, all but one of these in
June. I would not dare to compute how many chairs from funeral parlors
went in and out of her house in those four decades.

At least thirteen buildings and thirty portions of buildings on the
Madison campus are named for members of this Club. From this count I
omit plaques, trees and boulders, and Madison streets. Of course there
have been many opportunities, for, of the present University buildings,
only North, South, and Bascom Halls were in use when the Club was
founded. As far as I know, Grace Episcopal Church is the only edifice on
the Capitol Square, or should I say “Soglin Mall,” standing from that date.
It was some time before University Hall, usually called “Main Hall,” was
renamed Bascom Hall after John Bascom who gave Mad Lit its first non-
promotional paper — entitled “Culture”. Joseph Hobbins had used the first
meeting to give a “pep” talk.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [ Vol. 65

ON DR. JOSEPH HOBBINS

John Mendenhall

Toastmaster’s Introduction

We will now proceed to consider some of the charter members. I
shall repeat a story I have already told the Club about Dorothy Reed
Mendenhall, co-member 1906-35, member ’35-52, and honorary
member ’52-64, and for some years secretary-dictator of the Club. (I
know for I served as president under her benign but strict guidance.)
One day Merritt Hughes was moving furniture. Perhaps it was
because he had acquired a new home or maybe because of Grace’s
feminine desire to change things around. He was clad in shorts only.
The doorbell rang. He answered, and Mrs. Mendenhall was there.
“Professor Hughes?” “Yes.” “I have come to invite you to join the
Madison Literary Club and of course you will.” In telling me of the
episode, he added: “And of course I did.” When her son, Dr. John
Mendenhall, wants people to behave he anesthetizes them. His
mother did not find that necessary. Although I have made a valiant
attempt to put you to sleep, and since statistics are not as potent as
ether, tonight in speaking of our founder and first president, Dr.
Hobbins, John may have to follow his mother’s style and deal with you
awake.

(John Mendenhall spoke at this point.)

Joseph Hobbins, physician, pioneer horticulturist, and founder of the
Madison Literary Club, was born on December 28, 1816 in the town of
Wednesbury, Staffordshire, England. His father, also Joseph, was
descended from Sir Richard Hobbins, a knight of Elizabethan times. At the
age of eleven he ran away and joined the Royal Navy, fought with Admiral
Lord Nelson at Cape Trafalgar and retired at the age of 27 after 16 years of
faithful service in the Royal Marines. He chose to start life again in the very
grimy coal-mining and industrial area of the Midlands at Wednesbury in
south Staffordshire near Birmingham. He prospered over the years and
became an affluent businessman.

His son Joseph, Jr., one of five children, received his early education at
Colton Hall in Rugely. At an early age he developed a love for writing verse
and his youthful poems were published in local periodicals. Upon leaving
school at the age of 16, he was apprenticed to a Dr. Underhill in the
neighboring town of Tipon, where he remained for five years. He then
completed one session in 1838 at Queen’s College Medical School in
Birmingham where he was graduated with honors. Next came two years of
study at Guy’s Hospital, London, one of the great schools of the day made
famous by its Chief Surgeon, Sir Astley Cooper, and the physicians

1977]

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309

Richard Bright and Thomas Addison. After receiving his diploma and
becoming licensed as a physician, he did the usual brief tour of the
hospitals in Edinburgh, Dublin, Brussels, and Paris. He then set out for the
United States and a similar tour of the eastern seaboard.

Aboard ship he met Miss Sarah Badger Jackson who was returning
from travels in Europe with her widowed mother to their home in Newton,
outside of Boston. The voyage was a long one in those days and before
leaving the ship Joseph and Sarah had become engaged. He spent much of
the time during his tour in America visiting her family and finalizing their
marriage plans. He was to return to England and Wednesbury to set up
practice and she would come over to join him, staying first with a friend of
her family near Liverpool. After many delays they were married in
Liverpool on October 11, 1841. The bridegroom was almost 25 and his
bride a year older.

Although the prospects of success for such a well trained doctor were
encouraging in his native town, Sarah grew very homesick in the dreary
surroundings of the Midlands. Her health became impaired and by
September, 1842 they set sail again for the United States where they
established a home in Brookline, Massachusetts. There he settled down to
practice, becoming a fellow of the Massachusetts Medical Society and
incidentally joining a Literary Society which impressed him greatly and
which he was to use as a model for the Madison Literary Club. Although
Dr. Hobbins did very well in practice, his health began to fail and soon he
suffered from an irresistible longing for his homeland. At about this time he
and his wife became grief stricken over the loss of their first child,
Elizabeth, and so after three years of practice in Brookline, they once again
set out across the Atlantic in May, 1846 to return to Wednesbury. Their
second child and first boy, Joseph, died soon after birth in September of
that year. Both parents were again overwhelmed with grief which
necessitated another change of scene. Dr. Hobbins set out on an
extensive walking trip with his brother-in-law through northern England,
Wales, and Scotland which he described beautifully in letters to the Boston
Star. His wife moved to her friend’s house near Liverpool until they could
build their own house outside of Wednesbury.

However, both were eager for a greater change and as early as 1848 they
and their relatives were investigating the possibility of emigrating to
Australia, then California and finally Wisconsin. Concerning the latter they
had received from Governor Farwell maps and informational material
about Dane County and beautiful Madison. During this period in England,
their next three children were born, all girls — one in 1848, one in 1851, and
one in 1853. Dr. Hobbins, however, was unable to sell his practice and his
plans for emigration were delayed. At this time he decided to try for the

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Senior Examination in Surgery in Edinburgh, and was greatly disappointed
when he failed.

His sister Elizabeth and her family, and his younger brother, Dr. William
and his wife and their children including William’s step-son, thirteen year
old James A. Jackson, were the first of the family to leave Wednesbury for
America and Madison in September, 1853. Joseph Hobbins, Sr., his wife,
and their other two daughters and their families together with servants, left
a month later. All in all, by 1854 Madison was to receive over 40 immigrants
from Wednesbury.

Finally in the Spring of 1854 Dr. Hobbins and his entire household,
including his wife, three children and servants, set out for the United
States after an absence of eight years. In spite of a harrowing ocean
voyage, which included being shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, they
finally reached New York and started their twelve day journey westward:
to Chicago by rail, to Milwaukee by boat, and to Stoughton by rail, with the
final stage of the journey to Madison by horse and wagon. After thirteen
years of married life, numerous ocean crossings, and several changes in
location of family and practice, Joseph Hobbins settled down at last in
Madison and here remained until his death forty years later.

Madison, in 1854, was a rapidly growing frontier village of just over 5,000
persons. It had been declared the Territorial Capital in 1836, while a
settlement of only three inhabitants! It was incorporated as a village in 1846
with a population of 626. After Wisconsin became the 30th State in 1848
with Madison the capital, growth as a governmental, financial, educational,
and social center was rapid. The University of Wisconsin opened in 1849,
the first railroad came late in 1854, and Madison received a city charter in
1856.

After living for two years in the countryside on the shores of Lake
Monona, directly across from Madison, Dr. Hobbins realized that he could
not be a practicing physician and a country gentleman at the same time
and so he moved his family into a house with a large garden area on West
Main Street. Here he had plenty of room to develop his own horticultural
interests with an orchard, vineyard, kitchen garden and flower beds. His
surgical practice grew and he soon became active in the affairs of the
growing community.

The University Regents were thinking of opening a Medical School and
Chancellor Lathrop appointed Dr. Hobbins Professor of Surgery, with the
task of organizing the School. The plan was dropped, however, due to
legislative neglect. In 1856 Dr. Hobbins was elected to the first City
Council and subsequently re-elected three times. He organized a local
Board of Health and made an attempt to establish a city hospital. The sum
of $6,000 was appropriated and ground purchased on Gorham and

1977]

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311

Patterson Streets. The project failed for lack of support and later in 1890
the City sold the property and used the proceeds to buy a stone quarry
and a steam roller. It was not until 1898 that the first city hospital, now
Madison General Hospital, was erected, after earlier attempts to use
boarding houses as private hospitals had failed. Before that, medical or
surgical cases had to be taken care of in their own homes or in rooming
houses or hotels.

Prior to the middle of the 19th century surgery was for the most part,
limited to the treatment of diseases and injuries not involving the
abdominal and chest cavities. There was an increasing number of daring
major operations performed with astonishing technical skill and rapidity
because of a lack of anesthetics. It was in 1846, shortly after Joseph
Hobbins returned to England from Boston, that Morton first used ether
anesthesia at the Massachusetts General Hospital, followed the next year
by Simpson’s first use of chloroform as an anesthetic agent in Edinburgh.
The subsequent discovery of antisepsis by Lister (his carbolic-acid spray
method was first published in 1867), and the development of aseptic
surgery by the German surgeons in the 1880s, together with the progress
in basic anatomy and pathology led to rapid and undreamed of advances in
the study and practice of surgery by the turn of the century. Indeed, one
International Medical Congress in London, at that time, included such
great names in this rapidly developing field as Virchow, the father of
cellular pathology, Rober Koch, the discoverer of the tuberculosis
organism, Louis Pasteur, the developer of the germ theory of infection,
and Lord Lister. To fill out the time framework, in 1889 Johns Hopkins
Medical School was opened and in 1892 Dr. William S. Halstead became
Professor of Surgery at that institution, joining the great Dr. William Osier
to become the leaders in medical education in the United States. The year
1894 saw the death not only of Joseph Hobbins but also the famous
Austrian surgeon Theodor Billroth, the first surgeon to successfully resect
the larynx, the esophagus, and the stomach.

During Dr. Hobbins’ years of training, surgical specialties were largely
undeveloped and the general surgeons practiced obstetrics, gynecology,
orthopedics, otolaryngology as well as general family practice including
pediatrics. It was such a practice that Dr. Hobbins apparently engaged in.
He was described as having a quiet, substantial professional career, useful
to state and town. He dearly loved his profession and stood stoutly for its
old-time code of ethics. He was a member of the Royal College of
Surgeons. His membership in the Wisconsin State Medical Society dated
from 1856 and he had a wide personal acquaintance with the doctors of the
States. By 1880 Madison had a population just over 10,000 and Dane
County some 52,000. There were 20 physicians in the city, two of them

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women. In 1885 at the age of 69 he was President of the Central Wisconsin
(later to become Dane County) Medical Society. He remained in active
practice up to the time of his death nine years later.

When the Civil War broke out Dr. Hobbins, a life long Democrat,
supported the Union as a War Democrat. He organized the Medical Corps
at Camp Randall where the Union recruits were being drilled. His brother,
Dr. William Hobbins, enlisted as a surgeon in the 8th Wisconsin
Volunteers and William’s step-son, James A. Jackson, age 21, enlisted as a
hospital steward. Soon part of Camp Randall was used as a camp for
Southern prisoners and Dr. Hobbins, as U. S. Surgeon, was in charge of
the health of Confederate prisoners and Union soldiers alike. His
handwritten Register of Deaths records 152 deaths among the 3,000
prisoners for the three months of April, May, June, 1862 alone. Later he
was appointed Medical Examiner of Northern soldiers claiming disability,
and the same Register contains detailed examinations and recom¬
mendations on over 200 such cases with his objective evaluations.

Aside from his profession and his love of art and literature, Dr. Hobbins’
greatest interest was his avocation of horticulture. An inept but
enthusiastic gardener when he started as a gentleman farmer in 1854, he
became a practical horticulturist, experimenting in his own garden with
many varieties of fruits, vines, and shrubs and importing new seeds and
plants from both sides of the ocean. In 1858 he helped found the Madison
Horticultural Society of which he was president for twelve years. He is said
to have been responsible for the planting of lilacs and crocuses and shade
trees along the streets of Madison which led to the beautiful vistas enjoyed
by future generations. In 1866 he was elected president of the newly
formed Wisconsin State Horticulture Society, a position he held for five
years. His efforts in this field earned him the title of “father of horticulture
in the northwest.”

Dr. Hobbins is not listed as author of any article in national medical
journals in the Index Catalogue of the Surgeon General’s Library, but he
did write numerous articles on medical subjects not only for the medical
societies but for such layman’s journals as the Northern Farmer , Home
and Health Journal , the Western Farmer , and Field, Lawn and Garden (a
monthly journal of rural affairs, art and literature). His papers ranged in
subject from the harmful effects of hair dyes and cosmetics to a series of 12
articles on the “Care of the Baby.”

The story of the actual formation of the Madison Literary Club 100 years
ago has been written and rewritten for the 10th, 25th, 50th and 75th
anniversary celebrations and the Club’s Memorial to its Founder’s death in
1894 and most recently for the advanced newspaper publicity for this
meeting. The influence on Dr. Joseph Hobbins of his earlier membership

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in a literary society in Brookline, Massachusetts and his efforts after his
arrival in Madison in 1854 to organize a true literary society are cited.
Joseph Hobbins and Sarah his wife had over the years invited local groups
of persons with intellectual and literary tastes to their home for informal
discussions of some chosen topic. At intervals he tried to arouse interest in
the formation of a permanent organization. Time passed. Sarah Hobbins
died in 1870 after a long illness, age 55. Then in February, 1872 Josephine,
the doctor's oldest daughter, married the step-son of his brother, Dr.
William Hobbins, by then Dr. James A. Jackson. Two months later Dr.
Hobbins married Mary Elizabeth McLane, the youngest daughter of a well
known Baltimore scholar and publicist, whose acquaintance he had made
when she visited Madison the previous summer. Louis McLane Hobbins,
their only child, was born in 1874 and the family moved to a new home on
Wisconsin Avenue.

Finally in September, 1877, interest in a literary club seemed right and
Miss Ella A. Giles, Professor Rasmus B. Anderson, and Dr. Hobbins met
to draft their plans for the organization of the Madison Literary Club. A list
was drawn up of persons “of acknowledged literary taste” to be invited to
the next organizational meeting on October 1st. At that time a committee
was appointed to draft a constitution, which was unanimously adopted on
October 8, 1877. Dr. Hobbins was elected President and re-elected
annually until his death in 1894 with the curious exception of 1881, when
Mrs. Joseph Hobbins (Mary Hobbins), an active member in her own
name, served as second Vice President.

On Monday evening, November 5, 1877, the first regular meeting was
held at the Vilas House (later to become the Pioneer Hotel) with a paper by
the President entitled “The Mission of the Club.” It is interesting that the
original constitution in Article III (Object of the Club ) included the purpose
of “becoming better acquainted with each other” between the initial
phrase relative to bringing persons together for the purpose of social
enjoyment and the final phrase “promoting so far as may be, the interests
of literature in Madison, Wisconsin.” Sometime in later years the phrase to
“become better acquainted” was dropped.

Indeed, in his 1879 report to the Club, entitled “Two Years of Club
Work,” after his second term as President Dr. Hobbins remarked that the
combination of literature and sociability is no new thing. “It is sociability
and not literature,” he said “that binds us together; literature attracts but
the cohesive quality is social in its character. Therefore, let us not at some
future time unwisely deem the social feature of our Club of less importance
than the intellectual feature.”

At the November, 1884, meeting held in the Hobbins home the Doctor
read his third and last paper entitled “On the Status of Our Club,” which

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he reported as being financially as well as culturally sound. During that
period the society’s format had slowly changed from that of a study club to
something like a lecture course with a specialist giving the evening’s paper
and three or four persons discussing it.

At the conclusion of the June, 1887 meeting of the Club at the residence
of General Lucius Fairchild, Professor Charles M. Gregory, in behalf of the
Membership, presented to Dr. Hobbins a portrait of the doctor “as a
memorial of your great services and of our warm gratitude.” The portrait,
which we have with us tonight at this meeting, was by Professor James R.
Stuart, a member of the Club and one of the most talented and prolific
artists of the period. It was accepted at that meeting by the State Historical

Society of Wisconsin, “there forever to be preserved . as the

enduring memorial of a good man and a good life.” In thanking the
members, President Hobbins urged them to “continue our interest in this
society not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of those who come
after us for you have assurances enough in the good you have gained from
it to make you feel as I feel that we can leave our children few better
legacies than a love for literature.”

In Dr. Hobbins’ last years most of his efforts were given over to
organizing and conducting the literary club. He was described as a man of
noble aspirations, high integrity, warm sympathies, and sound judgment,
with the old-time hospitality of the English. As he grew older he “shook off
all tendencies to melancholy, joined forces with the younger generation
and lost none of his keen regard for the things of the day.” There still exists
a letter of resignation “for personal reasons” in his handwriting and with his
signature dated April 2, 1892, that was either never presented or turned
down by the Club for he continued as President in spite of failing health. In
late January, 1894, he “gently succumbed” to what was diagnosed as “la
gripe” and died on the evening of January 24, 1894 at a quarter past six
o’clock, aged 77 years.

In the memorial tribute of his Madison Literary Club it was said that
“those who knew him best, as physician, friend, and counselor, loved the
dear old Doctor best — and no warmer praise than this can man earn.”

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ON CHARLES NOBLE GREGORY

Ruth Doyle

Toastmaster’s Introduction

It is sometimes dull, boring, or even disagreeable to appear before a
legislative committee. However, it was always pleasant to attend
meetings of the Joint Finance Committee when Senator Porter and
Assemblyman Ludwigsen were co-chairmen. Occasionally, even with
their skill, one had to wait beyond the appointed hour before the
University budget or the needs of the retirement system came up for
consideration. On one such occasion a young, vivacious
assemblywoman spoke clearly, persuasively and briefly for some
budget item — an item which I have long since forgotten and bet that
she has too. After she finished, Senator Porter leaned forward and in
fatherly tones said: “Young lady, you would make a great legislator if
only you were a Republican.” That was the first time that I heard Ruth
Doyle speak. I look forward to hearing her now discuss Charles N.
Gregory.

(Mrs. Ruth Doyle spoke at this point.)

Charles Gregory was born in New York State in 1851, and moved with
his family to Madison when he was very young. His father was an early
mayor of Madison and the family was prominent in the political and social
life of the growing city.

He was graduated from the University of Wisconsin in 1871 and in the
following year, at age 22, from the Law School. He was awarded an L.L.D.
from his alma mater in 1901.

He practiced law in the firm of Gregory and Pinney from 1872-1894,
when he resigned to become Associate Dean of the Law School, in which
position he served more or less happily until 1901. I say “more or less”
because in his preserved correspondence there is at least one, and
perhaps several, letters of resignation addressed to the Regents, citing his
dissatisfactions with the treatment of the Law School and with his own
salary, which had not been increased for several years running. It is an
occupational attitude of law school deans, since the establishment and
spread of legal education in the United States. In 1898, Dean Gregory read
a paper to the Section on Legal Education of the American Bar
Association, bearing the poignant title of “The Wage of Law Teachers.” He
reported on the under-support of law schools and the under-payment of
faculty, mentioning a certain unnamed University in which the College of
Agriculture received $75,000 annually, while its law school, with the same
number of students, existed on its revenue from fees, about $14,000.

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He concluded: “I mentioned this ... to some of its faculty and
expressed my pleasure at the liberal support of the science of Agriculture,
and my hope that the science of law might at some time be as well
maintained. They pointed out, with some heat, the usefulness of the
Agricultural School, and said one of its professors had invented a
convenient apparatus for testing milk. I was glad of this excellent
achievement. I recalled that one of the law professors had published an
able work on Evidence (a convenient apparatus for testing truth) and
intimated that a good quality of justice was as important as a good quality
of milk.”

He nevertheless devoted a substantial period of his life to the
administration of law schools. In 1901, when he left Madison, never to
return, he became the Dean of the Law School at the University of Iowa
and subsequently at George Washington University, where he retired in
1914.

Mr. Gregory was a prodigious writer. His works, which were widely
published in Law Reviews and other scholarly organs, dealt with a wide
variety of subjects from the Alaskan boundary disputes to tariff reform and
election reform, and to the Law of Blockade. At the time of his death he
was serving as one of the editors of the American Journal of International
Law.

There are other dimensions to the life and accomplishments of Charles
Gregory. He was a natural leader of the Madison Literary Club of his day—
his reputation as a poet led to his designation by his admirers as the
“Bryant of the West.” His many papers presented to the Club dealt with
such various subjects as Jeremy Bentham, Recent American Poets,
Modern English Ballad and its Makers, Lawyers and the Makings of Them,
and the Improper Use of Money in Elections. One of his papers was
entitled “Paintings in Madison with Specimens Thereof.” He himself was a
prominent collector of paintings and other artisitic treasures.

Another great light went out on same day that Mr. Gregory died in 1932.
The issues of the Capital Times and the Wisconsin State Journal which
carried his obituary also reported the funeral services of the renowned
Carl Russell Fish, professor of History. At the time of his death, Mr.
Gregory was described by his friend A. O. Barton of the State Journal as
“scholarly and aristocratic,” with “cultured manners, an interesting and
attractive type of gentleman that flourished in the smaller Madison of his
day.”

His business associate, law school colleague, and life-long friend Justice
Burr Jones said of him that “his fine scholarship and love of the best
literature gave him a leading place in the literary circle in our city.” He
“loved social life,” added Justice Jones, and “there was something in his

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mode of dress and bearing which led strangers to think of him as an
aristocrat . . but there were few among us who were more solicitous for
the welfare of our fellow man. He was full of sympathy for dumb animals
and would show a righteous indignation over any cruelty toward them . .

There is a postscript to the life of Charles Gregory. All of his papers, his
treasured artifacts, and his paintings were bequeathed to the State
Historical Society of Wisconsin. They were returned to Madison in
October, 1932, in a huge locked van, which, by agreement, the driver was
never to leave unattended. When the driver became ill in South Bend, the
van was locked in a warehouse until a relief driver could be obtained. The
opening of the exhibit was an event highly publicized in the Madison,
Chicago, and Milwaukee newspapers.

Included in the collection were drawings attributed to Raphael,
Michaelangelo, Tintoretto, Rubens, and Holbein. Mr. Gregory had paid
modest sums for his collected items, using a prominent London art dealer
as agent. Professor Lawrence Schmekebier, noted professor of art
history, proclaimed the drawings to be fakes. He described one as
obviously the work of an eleven-year old girl. The family, friends and
admirers of Mr. Gregory reacted strongly, pointing out that Mr. Gregory
was a man of great integrity, a connoisseur who dealt only with reputable
dealers in Europe. The controversy termed by the press an “art war,”
raged for weeks, and was widely reported in the Wisconsin press. The
Historical Society called on experts from the museums of New York,
Detroit, and other places. Conclusions were mixed. The experts from the
Metropolitan agreed with Schmekebier; those from Detroit agreed with
Mr. Gregory’s choices.

In recent years, the paintings and drawings from abroad have been
housed in the Elvehjem Art Center. The American works, held by the
Historical Society, were returned to the family, the last member of which —
a niece — has recently died.

The statement of a former Director of the Historical Society, Mr. Joseph
Schafer, seems an appropriate conclusion: “While the Society regrets that
the drawings are not all they are supposed to be, yet it is glad to know the
mislabeled drawings are good in themselves and will serve a useful
purpose.” Which I am told they do to this day.

Toastmaster’s Comment

I side with Gregory rather than Schmeckebier, since my best
arguments could not convince the latter that mathematics is an art.
How could we expect him to recognize a Rembrandt!

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Young lady, you would make a great member if you were not a co¬
member. I want to tell you one thing more about Mrs. Doyle. She told
me that she not only accepted the chance to speak, but desired it as
the only opportunity for her to speak as a co-member. But with all her
insight, she is not a historian. By tradition and long ago in print, wives
and husbands of members “rank as co-members with full power.”
Mrs. Mendenhall and Mrs. Bleyer each gave a paper as co-members;
Mrs. Burr Jones, two; and Mrs. Slaughter, five. This custom should be
revived. Perhaps Women’s Lib flourished better before it had that
label.

1977]

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319

ON JAMES D. BUTLER AND WILLIAM F. ALLEN

Herbert Howe

Toastmaster’s Introduction

There are many good reasons to study calculus. I do not care by
which path a man walks, or perhaps swims in the trackless waters of
Mendota, so long as he gets to heaven. The next speaker chose to
seek the secrets of calculus, not to build bridges or to forecast the
stock market but to understand Zeno. Welcome, anyhow! He studies
medicine, not for health which is maintained by exercise, but for the
classical derivation of its terms. We have had a great tradition of
classicists: our last president, Paul McKendrick; Ray Agard; Moses
Slaughter; Grant Showerman; two secretaries, Katherine Allen and
Annie Pitman; and two charter members, William F. Allen and James
D. Butler. It is these two whom Mr. Howe, himself a classicist, will
discuss.

(Herbert Howe spoke at this point.)

From the days of its foundation the University was caught up in the
struggle over the proper purpose, method, and content of college
education, and the two men I should like to consider with you, both
founding members of this Club, might well serve as exemplars of the two
sides. Their backgrounds were not unlike, and one succeeded the other as
Professor of Classics. Yet between their personalities and aspirations for
the University lay a vast gulf, a gulf which, however, did not affect their
relations with each other. One of their common interests was this Club, to
which both contributed as essayists and officers.

James Davies Butler was a New Englander, born in Vermont in 1815. He
graduated from Middlebury and went on to Andover Divinity School. His
plans of entering the ministry were interrupted when he took a long trip to
Europe, but on his return he served several churches in the East and in
Ohio, combining his ministry with teaching and lecturing. In 1858 he came
to Madison as Professor of Classics, replacing Obadiah Conover in the
chair on the twelfth ballot by the Regents. He was a gentle and witty man
with an enormous store of out-of-the-way knowledge, but complained of
his intellectual loneliness. One suspects that he did not greatly enjoy his
contact with his classes. During the Civil War he served as Chaplain.
When the Board of Regents was reorganized in 1866, his appointment was
not renewed. He left the faculty in 1867, but lived in Madison until his death
in 1905, though he spent a great deal of time travelling and lecturing. Most
of his writing — he was a voluminous contributor to magazines, especially

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the Nation — was rather slight, but his paper on “The Hapax Legomena of
Shakespeare first given before this Club, received the applause of as
great a scholar as Halliwell-Phillips. He travelled widely and often, in
Europe and the Near East, and when he was 75 years of age took a long trip
around the world, with such side excursions as a voyage 2000 miles up the
Yangtse. He was one of the first to cross the country on the new
transcontinental railway, and on a side trip on the way managed to get lost
in the Yosemite, only to be saved by a former student of his, one John
Muir. Meanwhile he was a popular and prolific lecturer, in the great age of
that form of teaching. We may have our suspicions of “Mental Culture
among Teachers,” given five years before he came to Madison, but I can
only applaud the taste of a generation which turned out fifty times to hear
him speak on “How Dead Languages Make Live Men.” His greatest
success was “The Architecture of St. Peter’s,” which he repeated 100
times, once in Rome. He kept up his activities to the end, and was, indeed,
appointed chaplain to the State Senate when he was 80. He died in 1905.

Butler never wrote a book, and he seems to have viewed scholarship as
a source of personal pleasure, rather than as an arduous and demanding
pursuit. His successor, William Francis Allen, graduated from Harvard in
1851, fifteen years after Butler left Middlebury; but when Allen went
abroad it was to study Roman history and antiquities at Berlin and
Gottingen. Until 1862 he taught school in the East, and then worked during
the Civil War with the Freedmen’s and Sanitary Commissions. After the
war he taught at Antioch, and came to Wisconsin in 1867 to replace Butler.
As a teacher he was an immediate success. As a scholar he was productive
in several fields, in Latin and in mediaeval history. Allen, his brother
Joseph, and J. B. Greenough of Harvard collaborated on a number of
school Latin texts. I suspect that I am not the only person here who studied
from them, for they continued in use down to the Second World War. But
Latin was not Allen’s only field. When he first came he taught both ancient
languages and history, the last being scarcely more than a perfunctory
reading of a standard text. By 1871 he was freed of the obligation to teach
Greek, and in 1886 he finally moved entirely, as a teacher, into history.
From the beginning he insisted that his students should use primary
sources, and he approached history topically rather than chronologically.
He worked zealously for the growth of the University Library, as librarian
after 1871. He was on the committee which responded to the horrendous
report of the Board of Visitors that the health of women students was
being ruined by their arduous intellectual work. He made one of his
greatest contributions to the State in the years just before his death, when
he and his student, assistant, and successor Frederick Jackson Turner

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arranged a series of lectures on the history of the Northwest, which later
grew into the University Extension program.

Allen’s last service to the University was an unintentional one. In the fall
of 1889 a furious row had blown up over the matter of hazing; tempers
were being lost, and Regents, administration, faculty, and students were
being forced into positions from which they could not retreat. On
December 9 Allen suddenly died. The quarrel was swallowed up at once in
sorrow at his loss, and neither side resumed it later.

The papers the two men read to this Club show extraordinary diversity
of subject. Butler wrote on Luther’s Rock of Refuge and the Sanctuaries of
St. Elizabeth; The Hapax Legomena of Shakespeare; English Folk-Lore;
The Portraits of Columbus; The Character of Sir John Falstaff; Wonders
of the Western Wild; Taychopera, or the Four Lakes Country; Our
Composite Nationality; Lord Vernon’s Dante; Dante, His Quotations and
His Originality; Some Cities of the Great Moguls; Shakespeare as a
Cicerone in Foreign Travel; The Names of Our Club Associates; and The
Vocabulary of Shakespeare. Many of them were travelogues, and there is
not a single paper on a classical subject. Allen wrote on Freedom of
Thought and Speech; The Duke of Milan; Shakespeare as a Person; The
History and Methods of Wood-Engraving; Coriolanus in History and in
Shakespeare; The Roman Forum; and Historical Fiction.

Mrs. Allen, who continued in the Club until 1924, read several papers
after her husband’s death, on American Labor in New England Cotton
Mills; Ann Grant of Laggan; Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; and
Dorothy Wordsworth. Their daughter Katharine, who like her father
taught Latin and lived until 1940, was more a specialist: her papers
reflected the growing professionalism of the times: Catullus; Records of
Rome on the English Border; Ovid; and Seneca.

Butler belonged to an age in which universities tried to produce men
capable of becoming talented amateurs in many fields; Allen led the way to
a time which demanded highly trained professionals. They may serve as
paradigms of the pressures which still beset not only our civilization, but
each of us individually. Mad Lit, numbering this pair and others like them
among its founders, may fairly claim to have become a synthesis of their
virtues, and to have rejoiced for a century in making congenial talents as
diverse as theirs.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [ Vol. 65

ON BURR W. JONES

Janet Ela

Toastmaster’s Introduction

Conjugalism is an official policy. But we have something else. If you
want to be nasty, you call it “nepotism.” If you want to be nice, you call
it “hereditary genius.” If you want to pun, you call it “gild by
association” and spell it either with or without a “u.” Whatever it is, we
have lots of it. We have already had one speaker (J.M.) of whom both
parents were active members of the Club. The same was true of Max
Mason. In the cases of the Mendenhalls, the E. C. Masons, the
Slaughters, the Conovers, and the Bleyers, both husband and wife
were active members in succession. Now the Hartley Howes are
members simultaneously. Katherine Allen was the daughter of
William F. Allen; her mother gave four papers when an honorary
member. “Father and son” are represented by the Spohns, the
Beattys, the Weavers, and the Kiekhofers. The Frautschi brothers
each served as president. But the championship goes to Janet Ela: her
grandfather Burr Jones was a charter member and presided, post-
presidentially, at the fiftieth anniversary meeting at which Birge was
the chief speaker; her grandmother Olive Jones gave two papers and
served as the second secretary of the Club; her father Walter Smith,
long the University Librarian, was a member for thirty-eight years; her
husband Walter Ela served as treasurer for seven years; and she
herself as secretary for two years — in spite of which she is not tired of
the Club. Her memories tonight will center around the charter
member, Burr Jones.

(Mrs. Janet Ela spoke here.)

Mine is a happy assignment tonight. I speak about someone I knew
intimately and loved very much — my grandfather, Burr W. Jones. If, in my
knowledge that Burr Jones was the perfect grandfather, I tend to portray
him also as the perfect Mad Lit member, this is not wholly a matter of bias,
for the qualities that made him so endearing as a grandparent are ones that
our Club values too.

Here is the grandfather of my early memories: a grown-up who spun
marvelous stories and knew a very great deal but who was always eager to
hear what you knew too, who relished cards and guessing games but didn’t
care who won, knew how to joke and tease without ever hurting, made
comfortable space for every newcomer in his life, while you knew that your
own place next to him was always safe. I am describing a happy man,
generous and genial. But not bland. This Club does not cherish us if we are
sociable only. In 1877 when our Club began, Burr Jones was a young

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lawyer of 31, the same age as the incorporated village of Madison. During
his many years of membership, he grew into an eminent lawyer, teacher
and judge, and he brought to Club meetings wisdom in his own profession,
experience in politics, legal and social reform, plus seasoned tastes in
literature, history and biography.

Obviously I did not know the young man, nor the boy who came before
that. When Grandfather was 87, he wrote an informal little book called
Reminiscences of Nine Decodes , and it is from this account that I fill in the
earlier years. Burr Jones was born March 9, 1846, in a log farmhouse in the
vicinity of present-day Evansville, Wisconsin. His parents, of Welsh and
English stock, were recent comers from up-state New York and
Pennsylvania to the small mortgaged farm they worked. The father died
when Burr was eight, and four years later, his mother married a
neighboring widower, named Levi Leonard. His mother was ambitious for
her boy to get an education, and the stepfather, though he had not
completed grammar school, was an avid reader and a non -conformist in
temperament, who helped to whet the boy’s curiosity about ideas. Burr
went through the available schools, a one-room schoolhouse and the
Evansville Seminary, always doing heavy farm chores after school and
during the summers. He then taught school for a bit, traveled around Iowa
selling books, and managed at last to get to Madison to work his way
through the University.

I find myself wondering how many of the early members of Mad Lit came
from so lean and austere a background. Some faculty members, recently
arrived from the East, may have been of a second or third generation that
knew comfort and culture, but if other members were natives of
Wisconsin, still a frontier state, they may have had origins as humble as
Grandfather’s. He recorded that among the University student body of
about 200 in his day, he knew only two boys whose parents were wealthy
enough to pay their tuitions.

The farm drudgery must have been highly distasteful to Burr Jones. He
describes it in his Reminiscences with matter-of-fact neutrality, but it was
wholly edited out of the boyhood that yielded stories for his grandchildren.
Some ex-farm boys, turned prosperous, buy land in the country for
nostalgic reasons. Not Burr Jones. He was absolutely urban and
intellectual in his interests. He had no taste for gardening, a notable lack of
manual and mechanical skills, and scant interest in athletics. He did a little
fishing in earlier years, played sociable golf in later years. However, at no
time in his life was he physically heavy or lethargic. He had a trim figure, a
quick springy step, and it may well be that his ritual devotion to long walks
was the secret of his remarkably good health.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

In 1868 a law school had been founded on the Madison campus, in which
one year’s work earned a degree. In 1871, at age 25, Burr Jones emerged
with this degree and began to practice law in Portage. Within months he
was invited to be a junior partner by an established lawyer in Madison, and
from that time on, his law offices were always in this city.

In 1872 he married Olive Hoyt, and they bought a house on Langdon
Street near Frances, a site that Olive’s Monona Avenue family called “way
across town.” This was the first of three houses owned by Burr Jones, all of
them on Langdon Street. Some of you will remember the third house, at 17
Langdon, and its hostess, the lovely Katharine Macdonald who was Burr
Jones’ second wife. The house into which I fit Mad Lit meetings most
suitably is the second one, at 112 Langdon, where Burr Jones lived some
35 years, a house which in my childhood was often filled with exciting
guests. Indeed this ornate and marvelous house which Burr and Olive
built, with its six fireplaces, its innumerable bay-windows and surprising
L’s, a tower room on the third floor, a billiard room on the ground level
facing the lake, is background not only for actual memories, but my fertile
source for stage sets whenever a 19th century novelist is skimpy with
interiors. There was even a transom over one of the bathroom doors for
Sherlock Holmes’ Speckled Band.

It was in the same year as his marriage, 1872, that Burr Jones made his
first foray into politics. He was elected Dane County district attorney and
served for four years. In 1882 he was drafted by the local Democrats to run
for Congress and won on a fluke, because there were two quarreling
opponents on the other ticket. When Jones tried for re-election, the
Republicans, having closed their rift, resumed their normal strength in the
district and sent Robert M. LaFollette to Washington for his debut. Burr
Jones thoroughly enjoyed his one term in the House, and he must have
known that he had many qualifications for political success. He was a hard
and conscientious worker, an excellent speaker and debater, who never
had to resort to heavy rhetoric or sarcasm. He made sure that he knew his
facts and then won easy rapport from an audience with his good-humored,
conversational style. His Congressional defeat was doubtless disappoin¬
ting at first, but on the whole he was relieved that attachment to the wrong
party had nipped his ambitions quickly and sent him back to the profession
he loved.

Soon after his return from Washington, in 1885, he was invited to
become a lecturer at the Law School, and this sideline to active practice
brought him deep pleasure. He devoted one day a week to classroom work
for thirty years and took a very keen interest in his students. And I am sure
that students ranked him high as a teacher, for I witnessed in various little

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trips about the state, the warmth, almost adoration, with which his “old
boys” greeted him.

On the other hand, if I have suggested that Burr Jones was a first-rate
practicing lawyer, I have been dealing with hearsay evidence, for I never
actually heard him in conference with a client or speaking before a jury. We
must indeed be cautious on the admissibility of evidence, for this is the
territory in which Burr Jones won his widest reputation. During the 1890s,
on request from the Bancroft-Whitney publishing firm, he worked
diligently on a reference book which enjoyed good fame and strong sales in
the course of numerous revisions and updatings. Students and lawyers
throughout the country knew Jones on Evidence.

In 1920 Governor Philipp asked Burr Jones to fill a vacancy on the state
Supreme Court. Jones, now 74, demurred at first, but because his health
was excellent, he decided to accept. His six years on the bench were a
great satisfaction to him; the work was heavy and the schedule more
confining than his private practice, but he enjoyed the close working
companionship with other scholars of the law.

So far I have not said much, have I, about my grandfather’s role in Mad
Lit, but I trust he has come through to you as a man who would be very
much at home in this good Club. He was a member for more than 57 years,
from the club’s origin until his death on January 7, 1935. He prepared ten
papers, the first in 1879, the last in 1932, and I shall read you their titles. But
first let me note that it was Mrs. Burr Jones who spoke in December 1878
on the subject Life in Attic Greece. It was not until four months later that
her husband read his initial paper. In those very early years, there was no
fine distinction between member and co-member.

These were Burr Jones’ ten titles in the order of their presentation: The
Law of Primitive Societies, Growth of Socialism, Richard Cobden, The
Management of the Anti-Slavery Agitation in the United States, The
Expensiveness of Cheap Money, Chief Justice Marshall, The Homicide
Problem in the United States, John Bright, Wendell Phillips, The
Independence of the Bar. Recurring themes in these titles indicate
constancy in Burr Jones’ interests — the law itself as a subject, social and
economic reform especially as it involved slavery and free trade, pleasure
in studying the lives ot public figures who were leaders in his fields of
interest.

I certainly cannot make out a case from these titles that Burr Jones was
the full Renaissance Man, familiar with all fields of human knowledge. The
fact is that he had very little background in any of the physical or biological
sciences, almost no ear for music, appreciation but little expertise in the
visual arts, and no small hobbies such as collecting stamps or railroad
timetables. Curiously this absence in him of what we call hobbies never

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even occurred to me until a short time ago while I was preparing this essay.
We tend nowadays to regard the hobby-less person with pity, as a slave to
his work or a bore without inner resources. With Burr Jones, nothing
could be farther from the truth. He loved the law but it was not his master,
for he had two other pursuits which he loved with equal fervor and with
great indulgence. One, he loved good books as only a person can who has
craved them early and won them against odds. Two, he enjoyed the
diversity of human nature more thoroughly than any one I have ever
known. He had a talent for exploring the minds and hearts of others and it
was a talent of great purity: he probed you gently with questions about
yourself, not as a trial lawyer, a doctor, a novelist or any other specialist
might do who planned to put findings to work, but simply because he
wished to understand what you were doing and thinking. And you knew
that nothing you said would ever be used against you. It will give you some
measure of how genuine and rare his exploring method was when I say that
even during my early teens it never embarrassed me that my grandfather
asked my friends so many questions. It pleased me that even the shyest,
most awkward of them liked his way of getting acquainted and flowered
under his attention. Indeed he was never a “big talker” himself but in
almost any informal gathering he was somehow the natural leader who
encouraged conversation to flow in spontaneous fresh channels.

I regret that I do not know the text of any of the ten papers that my
grandfather prepared for this Club. I feel confident that they were
thoughtfully written and persuasively read, though not necessarily the
most brilliant papers the Club has known. It is in the role of creative
listener that Burr Jones was most surely a perfect Mad Lit member.

1977]

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ON EDWARD ASAHEL BIRGE

Alfred Swan

Toastmaster’s Introduction

In Birge’s time the minister of the First Congregational Church was
almost ex-officio a member of this Club. Eugene Updike came to that
church in 1890 and became a Club member the same year. The
election of Charles H. Richards in 1879 had been equally prompt.

Alfred Swan came in 1930 but, although he was invited to join at once,
he postponed membership a year to find out if we, i.e. our forebears,
were respectable. His predecessor, Robbin Barstow, came to the
church in 1924 and, if we can believe the semi-centennial booklet, was
elected to the Club in 1825, a bit of predestination more befitting a
Presbyterian than a Congregationalist. You might think that Birge
believed every Congregational minister had ipso facto “acknowledged
literary taste,” the official criterion for membership. But that is not my
theory. I hold that, being of some influence, Birge saw to it that only
those with literary taste became pastors of his church.

Be that as it may, a warm friendship based on mutual interest and
mutual respect grew between Edward Asahel Birge and the present
senior member and former president of this club, Alfred Swan, who
will speak on his great parishioner.

(Alfred Swan spoke here.)

To compress the near century of the life of Edward Asahel Birge into ten
minutes, or to compass the five decades through which he served our
University in five pages, would be to achieve an abbreviation that a
typewriter cannot effect. First to be foreshortened, therefore, should be
the more familiar facts of his life.

Though born in 1851 in Troy, New York, it was by accident of the fact
that his father, a Connecticut Yankee, had moved there in the furniture
manufacturing business. The young Birge spent many summers on a
Connecticut farm. In Troy the family affiliated with a Presbyterian Church,
where Edward learned the Westminster Shorter Catechism. But later in
Madison he gravitated into his more ancestral Congregational Church,
where he was for many years Deacon and Deacon Emeritus. He knew
more theology than some of his ministers.

At Williams College, where he studied under John Bascom and Mark
Hopkins, he graduated second in his class in 1873. Made a member of Phi
Beta Kappa in his junior year, he later became a Life Senator of that
organization, and appeared on several of its national program. He did
graduate work at Harvard, at first under Louis Agassiz the Elder, where,

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

by the fortuitous discovery of water fleas in a nearby pond, he became
interested in Daphnia and in the life of fresh water lakes. He ended by
becoming the world’s leading limnologist. President Bascom brought him
to Wisconsin in 1875 as an instructor in botany and zoology in the
Academy. The closing of the Academy in 1880 gave the young scientist the
chance to take the following year at Leipzig University, although his
doctorate was at Harvard.

When Birge came to Wisconsin there were 249 students on the campus.
When he retired in 1925 there were 8,142. What he would think of the
39,000 here now, we can only surmise. He served as Dean of the College of
Letters and Science 1891-1918, as Acting President 1900-1903, and as
President 1918-1925, after which he technically retired. But for another
quarter century he pursued his research, wrote papers, and enriched the
life of the community and the state. He went to his science office, in what is
now appropriately called Birge Hall, to within eight weeks of the end of his
life.

The field laboratories of the limnologist extended from Lake Mendotato
T rout Lake in Vilas County. During the summers in Vilas County he got no
haircut, for two reasons, he said: — to save money, and to find whether
there was any relation between long hair and poetry. The muse did not
touch him; and when he returned to Madison he paid Mr. Schubert, his
barber at the University Club, for two haircuts. Only five feet seven but
quick of step, he wore the last Grover Cleveland walrus mustache in these
parts, and beneath a white pompadour and bushy brows flashed the
sharpest black eyes that ever looked across a dean’s desk.

He said he tried usually to vote Democrat, when they didn’t spend too
much money. He reported that his father thought the slavery issue might
have been settled without a civil war. In 1894 he was a charter member of
the University Cooperative Book Store. But he was no social reformer,
and once said he sometimes feared the rise of the lower classes. He
therefore endured, with or without patience, pulpit and platform
pressures. If he did not like the sermon, he said he could always read the
hymn book. He could read any book almost as rapidly as one would turn
the pages. On Sunday afternoons he read the New Testament, in Greek.

It was his special interest to prepare pre-medical students with sound
science courses, before they went on to Johns Hopkins Medical School,
where his son took his M.D. , but died in the flu epidemic of 1918. Upon the
loss in the next year of his wife, Anna Grant, the only feminine member of
his high school class at Troy to go on to “higher education,” their daughter,
Anna Grant Birge, left her library position in Chicago to become his official
campus hostess. “Nan” Birge, now a nonogenerian at Attic Angels Home,
has attended many meetings of this Club, and recalls most of its charter

1977]

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329

members. With the aid of Governor Emmanuel Philipp, in 1921 Dr. Birge
achieved one of the great goals of his career in the establishment of the
Medical School and the construction of the University Hospital, now
about to be moved to the far west side of the campus.

After World War I, struggles ensued over requests by the Social Science
Club to bring Scott Nearing and Eugene Debs to the university. President
Birge distinguished between such appearances before clubs and the same
speakers addressing the entire campus, which latter, he felt, would be
construed by the public as approval of their positions. When in 1922 Upton
Sinclair made a special appeal to the Board of Regents to be heard, and
was granted permission, he proceeded in a newspaper interview to say, “It
is a class struggle and President Birge is on the side of privilege.”
Whereupon Sociologist E. A. Ross, who had been expected to introduce
the visitor, indignantly declined to do so, saying, “I have never experienced
from Dr. Birge, as Dean or President, the least pressure to say or not to
say, to do or not to do, anything my conscience prompted.”

It was inevitable that anti-evolutionist William Jennings Bryan should
call evolutionist Birge an “atheist.” The attack drew from President Birge a
public letter to his then pastor, the Rev. Edward Worcester, indicating that
to him science and religion were in different realms, but that to him also
religion was not inferior to science. That in the same year Upton Sinclair,
whose son was a student at the university, called Dr. Birge a “desiccated
biologist,” made it possible for the eminent educator to point out, with
some glee, that he was being attacked from both sides.

In the election of 1920 Florence Bascom, daughter of John Bascom, and
therefore not to be confused with spritely Lelia Bascom, her kinswoman,
wrote Birge, “Were you among those that stoned the prophet?” To which
he responded, “Nobody stones a prophet. He always stones somebody
else’s prophet. . . .You must tell me whose prophet has been stoned.” To
which Miss Bascom returned, “I am sure you know the prophet to whom I
alluded, the only prophet now in public life . . . and the more shame if he is
not your prophet. The prophet is Wilson, and the stone is a Harding vote.”
Birge had the last word, “To tell the truth I had supposed the prophet was
LaFollette. ... I am quite ready, however, to accept Wilson as a prophet,
all the more because he made such a mess of things as an administrator.
That ordinarily goes with the prophetic temperament. I voted for Cox, and
you must decide whether that is throwing a stone or a bouquet at the
prophet.”

If there was acerbity in such repartee, there was notable warmth in his
sudden, change in the nature of his last commencement address as
President of the University. Robert Marion LaFollette died on June 18,
1925, causing President Birge to begin the address of June 22 with a

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quotation from Rome of 1900 years before:

“Leaders are but mortal;
the commonwealth is everlasting;
therefore let us resume our wonted duties.”

“Fifty years ago,” said the President, now himself four-and-seventy,
“Robert M. LaFollette and Charles R. Van Hise were here together near
the beginning of their college studies, and in that year they were both
enrolled in my college classes. Both received their college degrees at the
commencement of 1879. Comrades throughout their college days, they
remained comrades after graduation. Van Hise followed the academic life.
LaFollette entered law and politics. But diversity of occupation did not
effect a similar difference in common ideals of life, nor did it interrupt the
intimacy of their friendship.”

It is a happy fact that Dean George Sellery, in his Memoir of E. A. Birge,
turned in the section on “The Religious Man” to Prof. Max Otto to provide
report on notes taken from Birge ’s thirteen St. Paul’s Day addresses at St.
Andrew’s Episcopal Church, 1930-1942, that is, between the ages of 79 and
91. Birge said he was drawn to St. Paul because the Apostle was a
university man. And warmly did he appreciate Max Otto as essentially a
religious man. The studies were scored on 3x5 cards, and are not in
manuscript. But remarkable as they are, they do not include the whole
perimeter of Dr. Birge ’s religious outlook.

On September 19, 1949, he talked with his then pastor, who profited
thereby, about an experience when he was a Junior at Williams College in
1872. A felon on his left thumb, which permanently disfigured that minor
member, forced him home for some weeks recovery. At that time he
translated Goethe’s Faust. In reading the “Prologue in Heaven,” where the
archangels appear, he said, he had come over him a sense of entering into
the knowledge of the reality of God that he had never had before, and
which he felt was equivalent to the experience of a new birth. To him it was
the admission by the door of literature to an appreciation of ultimate truth.
And he remarked that it had not come to him by the door of science,
although that was to be his field of action in the years ahead.

Such was the mind and mood of the man who moved through mediaeval
scholasticism, through renaissance humanism, and through modern
science, without losing touch with any of them. And such was he who gave
us 19 papers, from “George Eliot’s Novels,” November 4, 1878, to “A
House Half-Built,” November 12, 1936. We cannot retrieve them all, for
the George Eliot paper was, with all his early science papers and
specimens, lost in the burning of old Science Hall in 1884. The introductory
part of “A House Half-Built” is briefly autobiographical, and discusses the
relation of scientific to ultimate knowledge. But we would do well to keep in

1977]

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331

mind his discovery of how fresh- water lakes keep house, by turning
themselves upside down each autumn and each spring, as in each case
cold water sinks and warm water rises. The homily might induce us to do a
bit of house-cleaning in our own files from time to time. This might apply to
the 800 papers heard by this club in its First Century, as a considerable
portion of them repose in not too orderly array in the archives of the State
Historical Society of Wisconsin. But here we confess our debt to our
charter member, Edward Asahel Birge, who so eagerly sought and so
diligently served the fellowship of this Club.

In 1955 Max Otto said of him, “Dr. Birge is no more gone than the world
is gone in which he was active.” That world — the house of his ancestral
faith, the limnologist’s life on the fresh water lakes, the University which he
so faithfully and ardently served for fifty years — is nowhere more
completely exhibited than in his legacy of papers to the Madison Literary
Club. Consider the amazing range of the 19 papers he presented here:

Nov. 4, 78 — George Eliot’s Novels.

Mar. 3, 79 — Mandeville’s “Travels”.

Mar. 1, ’80 — Christopher Marlowe.

Apr. 3, ’82 — Lamarck.

Oct. 2, ’85 — Darwin’s Influence on the Thought of the Century.

Apr. 11, ’87 — Earthquakes.

Sept. 10, ’88 — Life and Death.

Apr. 14, ’90 — The Germ Theory of Disease.

June 13, ’92 — Science (Sic Granum Sinapis.)

Apr. 8, ’95 — Problems of Lake Life.

Oct. 10, ’98 — Huxley.

Dec. 12, ’04 — Darwin in His Letters.

Jan. 13, ’08 — William Morris.

Jan. 9, ’ll — Coeli Enarrant (The Heavens Declare).

Dec. 14, 74 — Stevenson — Twenty Years After.

Nov. 10, 79 — In Lucem Gentium (For a Light to the Nations).

Dec. 12, ’25 — Lucerna Corporis. (Lamp of the Body.)

Dec. 8, ’30 — Lakes.

Nov. 12, ’36 — A House Half-Built.

332

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [V ol. 65

THE TARDY MUSE or VOTIVE VERSES TO THE
MADISON LITERARY CLUB

Frederic Cassidy

Toastmaster’s Introduction

Today we have had something that physicists call a “chain
reaction,” and politicians a “domino effect.” Such sequences often
lead to an explosion. This morning our president was given a
manuscript, then it was passed to me, and now the explosion will be
read by Mr. Fred Cassidy.

(Frederic Cassidy then read his poem.)

Come, come, my Muse, bestir your laggard feet,

(Iambic, and pentameter most meet)

Refurbish, please, your somewhat rusty wit
To sing in rousing praise of Old Mad Lit!

All hail, Mad Lit (and sometimes snow or rain)

Nothing deters our worship at your fane!

Sing first — or better, say, to spare our ears —

Who sought this lively dueling of peers?

Who sought the verbal challenge to fling out,

And tease some bold opponent to a bout?

Who longed to meet on Mondays once a month
With sage and critic — even him who pun’th —

In cordial fellowship of town and gown
Where each can hope to put his fellow down?

Hobbins it was, whose wish to hob and nob
With few “selected” spirits — not the mob —

Called all together on Guy Fawkes’s day
A parliament where each could have his say,

With Giles and Anderson and Bascom too
One hundred years ago — a weighty crew,

Of literary taste already known,

To share the fruits of culture with their own.

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333

Can reminiscent Muse resist the urge
To chronicle great names — as those of Birge,

A founding father, loyal to a fault,

And always handy with the Attic salt?

Adams, Van Hise, and Frank, and Turner too,
Historic names; Thwaites, Ely and Evjue;
Uncommon Commons, Vilas, Slichter, Snow,

Vinje and Fairchild, Wilcox— see them go —

Dewey and Olson, Draper— splendid row!

Closer to memory — voices still recalled —

Sellery, Slaughter, Schorger never palled;

No more did Knaplund, Kiekhofer the Wild,

Hagen or Ela. Helen White so mild,

Classic Orsini, geographic Clark,

All struck with the flint of wit and made their spark,
Fire of the mind that shields us from the dark.

The clock approaches eight; we take our seats.
Agog with hope of intellectual treats.

It’s on the dot — the chair makes warning sounds —
The eager speaker to the lectern bounds —

Shuffles his papers, mugs the microphone,

And lo! Another meeting’s on its own.

Wisdom and anecdote take even turns,

The avid audience chuckles as it learns:

Too soon the allotted time has ticked away —

But have no fear — there’s other things to say.

Two commentators vie to share the bed,

And tell the speaker what he should have said.
Enthusiasm grasps them in its power
And fifteen minutes swell to half an hour.

But when the heart is warm and the mind is stirred
Who would be churlish, counting every word?

The meeting’s open for discussion now.

Our bright ideas shudder, bend, and bow

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol.65

As ruthless critics, smiling ear to ear,

Rend them to shreds with crocodilean tear.

The shattered speaker hears but daren’t reply.

(His chance to score comes later, by and by!)

His partisans defend him to the death;

Opponents struggle to the final breath.

Nothing can save him from a hopeless doom
Except refreshments in the adjoining room.

Mad Lit! Yes, mad indeed, but kindly mad —

The truth? The truth — most pleasant times I’ve had,
And disappointments few indeed. Mad Lit,

It’s been a pleasure knowing you. You fit
One of my wants — we share— to meet the kind
Of people we’re at home with, feed the mind
With interests other than our own — enlarge
The borders of our world — take charge
Of fresh ideas, mark the shadows cast
By wisdom for the future from the past.

My Muse salutes you with no future fears
She vows you’ll live another hundred years!

F.G. Cassidy
8 Nov., 1977.

TOASTMASTER S CLOSING REMARKS

My deep affection for this Club tempts me to speak further but also
keeps me from doing so. Rather I quote from the account of the fiftieth
anniversary: “In concluding, Mr. Jones expressed the wish that the group
gathered to celebrate the hundredth anniversary might have as pleasant
an evening.” We project these wishes forward.

***

****£+•«*& * . t.

TRANSACTIONS OF THE
WISCONSIN ACADEMY
OF SCIENCES, ARTS
AND LETTERS

LXVI— 1978

Editor

FOREST STEARNS

Copyright © 1978

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.
Manufactured in United States of America.

All Rights Reserved.

WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS

OFFICERS 1978

President Vice President- Sciences

Dale O’Brien George W. Archibald

P. 0. Box 278 International Crane Fdtn.

Spring Green, WI 53588 Baraboo, WI 53913

Immediate Past President
Robert E. Gard
719 Lowell Hall
610 Langdon St.
Madison, WI 53706

President Elect
Robert A. McCabe
226 Russell Lab
UW Madison
Madison, WI 53706

Vice President- Arts

Fannie E. F. Hicklin
3814 University Ave.
Madison, WI 53705

Vice President-Letters
Frederic G. Cassidy
6123 Helen White Hall
UW Madison
Madison, WI 53706

Secretary - Treasurer

C. W. Threinen
2121 Gateway St.
Middleton, WI 53562

The ACADEMY COUNCIL consists of the above officers plus

Past Presidents: Louis W. Busse, Katherine G. Nelson, Norman C.
Olson, Adolph A. Suppan and John W. Thomson

Councilors at Large: H. Clifton Hutchins, Aaron J. Ihde, Malcolm
McLean, Hannah W. Swart, David A. Baerreis, F. Chandler Young,
Cy Kabat, and Forest Stearns

APPOINTED OFFICIALS

Executive Director and

Editor Wisconsin Academy
Review

James R. Batt
Steenbock Center
1922 University Ave.
Madison, WI 53705

Associate Director for
Junior Academy
LeRoy Lee
Steenbock Center
Madison, WI 53705

Managing Editor Wisconsin

Academy Review
Elizabeth Durbin
Steenbock Center
Madison, WI 53705

* Editor TRANSACTIONS
Forest Stearns
Botany Department
UW Milwaukee
Milwaukee, WI 53201

Librarian
Jack A. Clarke
4232 Helen White Hall
UW Madison
Madison, WI 53706

*Dr. Elizabeth F. McCoy TRANSACTIONS Editor, former President and
Honorary President, died March 24, 1978. Forest Stearns was appointed Interim
Editor shortly thereafter, and now serves as Editor.

EDITORIAL POLICY

The TRAN S ACTION S of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and
Letters is an annual publication devoted to original papers, preference
being given to the works of Academy members. Sound manuscripts dealing
with features of the State of Wisconsin and its people are especially
welcome; papers on more general topics are occasionally published. Subject
matter experts review each manuscript submitted.

Contributors are asked to submit two copies of their manuscripts.
Manuscripts should be typed double-spaced on 8-1/2 x 11 inch bond paper.
The title of the paper should be centered at the top of the first page. The
author’s name and brief address should appear below the title and toward
the right hand margin. Each page of the manuscript beyond the first should
bear the page number and author’s name for identification, e.g. Brown-2,
Brown-3, etc. Identify, on a separate page, the author with his institution, if
appropriate, or with his personal address to be used in Authors Addresses
at the end of the printed volume.

The style of the text may be that of scholarly writing in the field of the
author, but to minimize printing costs, the Editor suggests that the general
form of the current volume of TRANSACTIONS be examined and followed
whenever possible. For Science papers, an abstract is requested. Documen¬
tary notations may be useful, especially for the Arts and Letters papers, and
should be typed and numbered for identification in the text, such notations
as a group, should be separate from the text pages and may occupy one or
more pages as needed. References should be typed alphabetically at the end
of the manuscript. The style of the references will be standardized as in the
current volume to promote accuracy and reduce printing costs.

Figures should be prepared to permit reduction. Originals or glossy
prints not larger than 8-1/2 x 11 inches are requested.

The cost of printing is great. Each paper will be subject to a per page
charge to the author, the rate being determined yearly. Galley proofs and
edited manuscript copy will be forwarded to the authors for proof reading
prior to publication, both must be returned to the Editor within one week.
Reprints can then be ordered; forms and instructions will be sent to the
authors. Each author will receive one complimentary copy of the volume of
TRANSACTIONS in which his work appears.

Papers received on or before November 30 will be considered for the next
annual volume. Manuscripts should be sent to:

Forest Stearns
Editor: TRANSACTIONS

Dept, of Botany
P. 0. Box 413
Milwaukee, WI 53201

TRANSACTIONS OF THE Established 1870
WISCONSIN ACADEMY Volume LXVI 1978

THE CALIFORNIA-WISCONSIN AXIS
IN AMERICAN ASTRONOMY 1

Donald E. Osterbrock

THE STOUGHTON FAVILLE PRAIRIE PRESERVE
SOME HISTORICAL ASPECTS 25

Robert A. McCabe

LATE PLEISTOCENE (WISCO SINAN) CARIBOU
FROM SOUTHEASTERN WISCONSIN 50

Robert M. West

AN ORDINATION OF TERRICOLOUS AND
SAXICOLOUS BRYOPHYTES AT CACTUS ROCK,
WAUPACA COUNTY, WISCONSIN 54

Randall J. Fritz, Lynn M. Libera,
and Nicholas C. Maravolo

THE HISTORIC ROLE OF CONSTITUTIONAL
LIBERALISM IN THE QUEST FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE 68
Wayne Morse

THE REPRODUCTIVE CYCLE AND FECUNDITY
OF THE ALEWIFE IN LAKE MICHIGAN 80

Roger R. Hlavek and Carroll R. Nprden

THE PARASITOIDS OF THE EUROPEAN PINE
SAWFLY NEODIPRION SERTIFER (GEOFFROY)
(HYMENOPTERA: DIPRIONIDAE), IN WISCONSIN,

WITH KEYS TO ADULTS AND LARVAL REMAINS 91
Mark E. Kraemer and Harry C. Coppel

THE ETHNIC IMPACT OF WILSON’S WAR: THE
GERMAN-AMERICAN IN MARATHON COUNTY.

1912-1916 113

James J. Lorence

STRUGGLE, HUSBANDRY, SEARCH: THREE
HUMANISTIC VIEWS OF LIFE, AND LAND 124

Robert E. Najem

SPRING AND SUMMER BIRDS OF THE
PIGEON LAKE REGION 130

Howard Young and Richard F. Bernard

AQUATIC MACROPHYTES OF THE PINE AND
POPPLE RIVER SYSTEM, FLORENCE AND FOREST

COUNTIES, WISCONSIN 148

S. Galen Smith

THE STATUS OF TIMBER WOLF IN

WISCONSIN-1975 186

Richard P. Thiel

LOSS OF ELM FROM SOME LOWLAND FORESTS
IN EASTERN WISCONSIN 195

Thomas F. Grittinger

TORCHLIGHT SOLDIERS: A WISCONSIN VIEW OF
THE TORCHLIGHT PARADES OF THE REPUBLI¬
CAN PARTY “TANNERS” AND THE DEMOCRATIC
PARTY “WHITE BOYS IN BLUE” 206

Charles D. Goff

LOSS OF WETLANDS ON THE WEST SHORE

OF GREEN BAY 235

T. R. Bosley

SMALL MAMMALS OF THE TOFT POINT
SCIENTIFIC AREA, DOOR COUNTY-WISCONSIN:

A PRELIMINARY SURVEY 246

Wendel J. Johnson

THE DISTRIBUTION OF FLOODPLAIN HERBS AS
INFLUENCED BY ANNUAL FLOOD ELEVATION 254
William J. Barnes

A LEGACY OF PARADOX: PURITANISM AND THE
ORIGINS OF INCONSISTENCIES IN

AMERICAN VALUES 267

Philip L. Berg

PREDICTION OF BLOOM IN WOODY PLANTS 282

Glenn Herold and E. R. Hasselkus

SQUIRRELS ON THE HOWARD POTTER
RESEARCH AREA 294

Chris Madson

THE CALIFORNIA-WISCONSIN AXIS
IN AMERICAN ASTRONOMY

Donald E. Osterbrock

University of California — Santa Cruz

INTRODUCTION

m

any astronomers are vaguely aware of a
California-Wisconsin axis in American
astronomy, but few realize just how many
astronomical associations there are between the two states. A very
large fraction of American astronomers have made the pilgrimage
either eastward or westward between the Badger State and the
Other Eden at least once in their careers, if not more often, and quite
a few telescopes have made the same journey too, so that it is almost
impossible to think of American astronomy without recognizing the
connections between the two states.

The reasons for these ties are not hard to find — the two great
American observatories founded in the nineteenth century, Lick
Observatory of the University of California and Yerkes Obser¬
vatory of the University of Chicago, located at Williams Bay,
Wisconsin, dominated observational astronomy for many years, and
each worked as a magnet, attracting astronomers from the other.
When the Mount Wilson Observatory was built near Pasadena, in
the early years of the twentieth century, it was at first very largely a
Yerkes operation, and contributed even more to the traffic in
astronomers between Wisconsin and California. The University of
Wisconsin was an initially small but growing additional factor in
this traffic, and Palomar Observatory, completed just after World
War II, eventually became the largest factor of all.

LICK OBSERVATORY

Let us begin at the beginning. Lick Observatory was built as a
result of the generosity of James Lick, an eccentric millionaire

1

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

whose fortune was based on land speculation in downtown San
Francisco at the time of the Gold Rush. Lick, who was born in
Pennsylvania but who had spent over twenty years as a cabinet- and
piano-maker in Argentina, Chile and Peru, liquidated his South
American business and arrived in San Francisco in January, 1848,
with $30,000 in cash. Almost immediately he began buying lots, the
first at the corner of Jackson and Montgomery Streets for $270, and
after gold was discovered on the American River he was able to buy
more and more land at more and more advantageous prices as
everyone else in San Francisco tried to get a stake together and head
for the gold fields (1).

Toward the end of his life, Lick decided he wanted to use part of
his by then vast fortune to leave a monument to himself. His first
idea was to build a pyramid in downtown San Francisco larger than
the Great Pyramid in Egypt, but his advisers persuaded him to drop
this plan and instead found an observatory with a telescope
“superior to and more powerful than any telescope yet made.” The
observatory was built on Mount Hamilton, near San Jose, a site
picked by Lick himself; it was completed in 1888, 12 years after his
death, and Lick’s body was brought from San F rancisco to a tomb in
the pier of the telescope, where it remains to this day (2).

The observatory and telescope were built under the dynamic
leadership of Captain Richard Floyd, the President of the Board of
Trustees of the Lick Trust, and Thomas Fraser, the Superintendent
on Mount Hamilton, who had been the foreman of Lick’s San Jose
property. The 36-inch telescope lens, at that time the largest in the
world, was made by Alvan Clark and Sons, the Massachusetts
opticians who figured the optics for all the large refractors of those
days. As President of the Lick Trustees, Captain Floyd was
responsible for staffing the Observatory, and in 1880, long before it
had been completed, he wrote to James C. Watson, an outstanding
theoretical astronomer who was at that time the first Director of the
Washburn Observatory of the University of Wisconsin, and tried to
awaken his interest in moving to Lick. Watson was guardedly
enthusiastic and replied “Perhaps when the time comes I may enroll
my name as one of the candidates for the directorship of your
observatory . . . [Notwithstanding the ties that bind me here, I am
for the best scientific opportunity while I live” (3). Alas he did not
live, but died less than three months after writing this letter, of
pneumonia contracted while observing in the cold Wisconsin night
air (4).

1978]

Osterbrock—Axis in American Astronomy

3

Figure 1. — Edward S. Holden 1846= the University of California, and

1914. He was successively Director of Director of its Lick Observatory,

the Washburn Observatory of the Mount Hamilton, California. Lick
University of Wisconsin, President of Observatory Archives.

Instead of Watson, the first Director of Lick Observatory was
Edward S. Holden, Watson's successor as Director of the Washburn
Observatory. Holden was a product of Washington University and
of West Point, and the protege of Simon Newcomb, Director of the
Nautical Almanac Office and the most distinguished American
astronomer of his day (5). Holden was appointed Director at
Washburn on Newcomb's recommendation in 1881, while also
acting as scientific advisor to the Lick Trust, but after only a few
years in Wisconsin he accepted the position of President of the
University of California in 1885 to be close to the scene of action
until the observatory was completed. First light was seen through
the 36-inch telescope on a bitterly cold night in January 1888; in
June of that year the observatory was turned over to the University
and Holden stepped up from President of the University of
California to Director of Lick Observatory (6).

4

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

GEORGE ELLERY HALE

Only two years later, George Ellery Hale, who was to found
Yerkes, Mount Wilson and Palomar Observatories, visited Lick
Observatory with his bride on their honeymoon trip through the
West. Hale, the son of a Chicago elevator magnate, had had a strong
scientific interest from childhood, an interest that was encouraged
by his father, who bought him the prisms, spectroscopes, gratings
and telescopes he needed for his Kenwood Observatory in the
backyard of the family mansion on Drexel Boulevard. Hale went to
M.I.T., where he was a good student though he was far more
interested in the experimental work he did on solar photography for
his undergraduate thesis than in the formal courses. Two days after
graduation he married his childhood sweetheart, and then began
the honeymoon trip which took him two months later to Lick (7).

Hale was tremendously impressed with the telescope and the
Observatory; Holden in turn was impressed with Hale and offered
him a chance to stay and use the telescope, but he decided instead to
go back to Chicago, build up his own observatory, and keep himself
available for a faculty position at the then new University of
Chicago.

Hale was a unique character in American astronomy. Scion of a
wealthy family, he was accustomed from childhood to deal with the
rich and powerful as an equal; yet at the same time he was a highly
creative scientist who invented the spectroheliograph while still an
undergraduate, never had time to complete formal graduate
training, pioneered the science of astrophysics, and made many
important observational contributions to the study of the sun and its
magnetic properties. Above all he was an organizer of science and a
builder of observatories.

By 1892 Hale was an Associate Professor at Chicago as part of a
package deal in which his father promised to give the University the
instruments of the Kenwood Observatory, if the University in its
turn would raise the funds for a larger observatory. That same year
Hale met Charles T. Yerkes, the tycoon who controlled the Chicago
El system, and within a few weeks persuaded him to commit
himself to building “the largest and best telescope in the world.”
Yerkes had been presold on the idea by President William Rainey
Harper of the University of Chicago, but Hale had clinched the deal.
Luckily the 40-inch glass blanks for the lens were available in the
United States. They had been ordered by the University of Southern

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

5

California, which hoped to build an observatory on Mount Wilson,
but lost all its promised funds when the Southern California land-
speculation bubble burst in 1892. Yerkes bought the blanks from
USC, Alvan Clark and Sons started grinding them into lenses, and
the planning of Yerkes Observatory began (7). Apparently Yerkes
himself was only willing to consider locations for his telescope close
to Chicago, and the site on Lake Geneva was eventually chosen on
the recommendation of Thomas C. Chamberlin, who before coming
to Chicago as head of the Geology Department had been successively
Instructor at the Normal School at Whitewater, Professor of
Geology at Beloit College, Chief Geologist of the Wisconsin
Geological Survey, and President of the University of Wisconsin (8).
University of Wisconsin (8).

Yerkes, like Lick before him, proved a slippery source of funds,
and tried several times to withdraw his support, but in the end the
40-inch telescope was built and first light was seen through it in
May 1897. It is still the largest refracting telescope in the world, the
Lick 36-inch is the second largest, and both are in regular use as
research instruments. The Yerkes Observatory building, designed
by Hale, was obviously greatly influenced by his visit to Lick, as the
two observatories are very similar in external appearance, and
inside too.

One of the first graduate students at Yerkes Observatory was
William H. Wright, a native of San Francisco who had done his
undergraduate work at the University of California and received
his B.S. in Engineering in 1893. He was interested in astronomy and
stayed on for two more years at Berkeley studying mathematics,
physics and astronomy, and then in his one year at Yerkes got into
the new field of astronomical spectroscopy. He returned to
California as a member of the Lick staff in 1897, where he remained
until he retired in 1944; he was Director from 1935 until 1942.
Wright made many pioneering spectroscopic investigations at Lick,
particularly of gaseous nebulae and novae or “new stars” (9).

Likewise at Lick Observatory there were graduate students
almost from the beginning, although there never was a complete
program of courses until the faculty moved to the Santa Cruz
campus in 1965. The first group of graduate students at Lick
numbered six, of whom two had done their undergraduate work at
the University of Wisconsin (10). One of these two, Sidney Townley,
who was born in Waukesha, went from Lick to the University of
Michigan, where he earned his Sc.D. in 1897, and then a few years

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

later joined the Stanford faculty where he taught astronomy in the
Applied Mathematics Department for many years.

Even before the Yerkes 40-inch was finished, Hale had begun
thinking of a larger telescope. He realized that the 40-inch is close to
the upper limit of practical size for refractors, and that the new
telescope would almost certainly have to be a reflector, in which the
light is collected and focused by a large parabolic glass mirror
rather than a lens. In 1894 Hale’s ever supportive father provided
the funds to buy a 60-inch glass blank from France, and to pay to
have it figured into a mirror. He agreed to give the mirror to the
University of Chicago on condition that the University provide the
mounting, dome, auxiliary instruments and necessary operating
expenses. Hale wanted to locate the new reflector, when it was built,
in a site with more clear weather than southern Wisconsin, and
after a trip to California in 1903 he definitely decided on Mount
Wilson. Neither Yerkes nor the University of Chicago was able to
furnish even the funds necessary to pay the salaries of the
astronomers at Yerkes Observatory, but nevertheless in 1904 Hale
established a Solar Observatory on Mount Wilson. He was in close
touch with Andrew Carnegie and his Carnegie Institution of
Washington, which before the year was out, put up the money to
found the Mount Wilson Solar Observatory (as it was originally
known, for the first instrument was a solar telescope) and mount the
60-inch telescope. Though there was some unpleasantness with the
University of Chicago about the ownership of the glass blank for the
mirror, eventually it was handed over and by December 1908 the
new 60-inch telescope was mounted and in use (7).

Long before this, Hale had turned his attention to building a
bigger telescope, and in 1906, two years before the 60-inch was
completed, he had managed to persuade John D. Hooker, a Los
Angeles iron and oil magnate, to provide the funds for a 100-inch
mirror (7). Much more Carnegie money was required before the
100-inch telescope was completed on Mount Wilson in 1917, the
third successive largest telescope in the world built under Hale’s
direction, the first of them in Wisconsin and the other two in
California. After his retirement, he also secured the funds for the
200-inch telescope, which is still the largest telescope in the world,
though he didn’t live to see it completed; it was named the Hale
telescope at the time of its dedication in 1948, and the Mount Wilson
and Palomar Observatories were renamed the Hale Observatories
in 1968, the hundredth anniversary of Hale’s birth.

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

7

EARLY LICK ASTRONOMERS

When the Lick Trust officially handed over Lick Observatory to
the University of California in 1888, the staff included, in addition
to Holden, four astronomers, S. W. Burnham, E. E. Barnard, John
Schaeberle and James Keeler (11). Burnham was an indefatigable
double-star observer, who for many years had been court reporter
and later clerk of the Federal Court in Chicago. In the evening he
would measure close double stars with his own telescope in his
backyard observatory, where the young George Ellery Hale, as a
boy of fourteen, met him and first saw a Clark refractor. Burnham
had an excellent 6-inch, which he took with him when he went out to
Mount Hamilton in 1879 as a consultant to the Lick T rust. He stayed
for two months, observed many double stars, and pronounced the
atmospheric transparency and seeing excellent (12). It was on the
basis of this report that the final decision to build the observatory on
the Mount Hamilton site that Lick had chosen was confirmed.

After his return to Chicago, Burnham set up his telescope on the
University of Wisconsin campus in Madison, where he went on
weekends to take advantage of the clearer and darker Wisconsin
skies. This telescope, which Burnham had used in the Mount
Hamilton site test, was acquired by the University of Wisconsin
(13), and was mounted for many years in a small dome just off
Observatory Drive, between the old Washburn Observatory (where
the Institute for Research in the Humanities is now located) and the
old Director’s House (now the Observatory Hill Office Building).
The telescope is now in use in one of the domes on the roof of Sterling
Hall, while the old dome has been moved to the Madison
Astronomical Society’s Oscar Mayer Observatory, off Fish
Hatchery Road.

Burnham finally went professional when the 36-inch was
completed at Lick Observatory, and Holden persuaded him to join
the staff. However, it soon turned out that Holden, a West Point
graduate, expected to run the observatory as its commanding
officer, supervising personally the research of all the astronomers
on the staff. Relations became strained at the isolated and
underfunded observatory (14), and after only four years at Lick,
Burnham returned to the tranquility of Chicago. When Yerkes
Observatory was founded a few years later, Hale managed to lure
him out of retirement with a position which allowed him to come to
Williams Bay on weekends to observe, while keeping his apparently
not-too-demanding courtroom job in Chicago (15). Burnham

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

together with another renegade from the Lick staff, Barnard, was
present when the 40-inch Yerkes refractor was first turned on stars,
clusters and nebulae in 1897, and Hale quoted the two of them as
agreeing that it was “decidedly superior” to the Lick refractor (7).

Barnard was a native of Tennessee, a poor boy who became a self-
taught photographer, an amateur astronomer, and eventually a
pioneer of celestial photography. He discovered the fifth satellite of
Jupiter, the first to be discovered since Galileo’s time, with the Lick
36-inch in 1892, as well as several comets, so his name was well
known to the public, and it was a severe blow when he left in 1895 to
accept a position at Yerkes (16). Before he came to Lick, Barnard
wrote that he looked forward to working under Holden, but within a
few short years he came to resent him as a petty tyrant, and when he
resigned, though he thanked the Regents profusely, he could not
bring himself to mention Holden’s name (17, 18, 19).

The first of the original Lick staff to go had been Keeler, who
became Director of the Allegheny Observatory in Pittsburgh in
1891. Burnham and Barnard were classical astronomers of the old
school, but Keeler was a pioneer astrophysicist, applying the new
methods of spectroscopy to investigate the nature of the stars and
planets. Keeler and Hale were the two American apostles of this
new-fangled science, the one specializing in stars and nebulae, the
other in the sun. They were personally close, and corresponded
often. Keeler was present along with Hale and Burnham when the
40-inch lens was first tested on stars in an improvised mounting at
Alvan Clark’s optical shop in Massachusetts, and he gave the
principal address at the formal dedication of Yerkes Observatory.
For several years Hale tried very hard to lure Keeler away from
Allegheny to join the Yerkes staff, but he never made the move to
Wisconsin, returning instead to Lick in 1898 as Director after
Holden had been forced out (20).

Back at Lick, Keeler applied his personal efforts to using the
recently acquired Crossley (36-inch) reflector for celestial
photography (21, 22). At about the same time, George Ritchey was
using the 24-inch reflector at Yerkes that he himself had made, for a
similar program (23, 24). Previously, professional astronomers had
thought almost entirely in terms of refracting, or lens telescopes,
but Keeler and Ritchey proved that reflecting telescopes had
tremendous advantages for photographic work by obtaining
pictures of clusters, nebulae, and galaxies revealing details never
seen before. A reflecting telescope is achromatic, which means it

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

9

brings light of all colors to the same focus, its silvered or aluminized
mirror does not absorb blue light, as the lens of a refractor does, and
it can be much shorter than a refractor with the same aperture,
which makes it both less expensive to build and more effective for
photography of faint nebulae and galaxies. Hale had realized even
before Keeler’s and Richey’s results that the big telescopes of the
future would be reflectors, not refractors, and had put this
conclusion into practice by getting his father to buy the 60-inch
glass blank from France. When Hale went west to Mount Wilson,
the mirror went along, as did Ritchey, who was put in charge of the
optical shop in Pasadena. He finished the 60-inch mirror there after
the Carnegie money came through, designed the dome and
telescope, and took some of the first photographs with it after it was
put into operation on Mount Wilson in December 1908 (25).

In addition to Ritchey, Hale took with him to California
Ferdinand Ellerman, Walter Adams, and Francis Pease; and
Barnard, though he never joined the Mount Wilson staff, also came
as a temporary visitor (7). This was almost the entire Yerkes first
team, except for Burnham and Edwin Frost, Hale’s successor as
Director, and the mass exodus must have caused a certain amount of
bitterness among those left behind. Ellerman was originally a
photographer, who had been at Kenwood with Hale before going to
Yerkes. On Mount Wilson he went western in a big way, sporting a
ten-gallon hat, mountain boots, a pistol, cartridge belt, and hunting
knife the first time he showed Adams the trail up the mountain (26).
Pease was trained as a mechanical engineer, but both these men
became highly skilled observers and instrumentalists, who could
make complicated equipment work and get results under the
primitive conditions on Mount Wilson (27).

Many of Hale’s associates had little formal training in astronomy,
and he not only directed their scientific work, but also, as a sort of
intellectual Prince Charming, widened their horizons with his tales
of the books he had read, the travels he had made, and the famous
men he had met, in the gatherings on cloudy nights around the
fireplace at the Casino, and later the Monastery, the observers’
lodgings on Mount Wilson (26). Walter Adams, however, was a
trained scientist who eventually succeeded Hale as Director of
Mount Wilson Observatory. Son of Congregational missionaries in
Syria, Adams did his undergraduate work at Dartmouth, where he
came under the spell of Frost, and followed him to Yerkes, where he
worked closely with Hale. Adams’ combination of scientific

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

knowledge and ability with observational skill, strong character
and physical toughness made it natural that Hale should depend
more and more upon him (28).

Hale was a highly neurotic individual, who worked extremely
intensely and felt the heavy responsibilities of his position more
than most men, perhaps partly because he accomplished more than
most men. He suffered a nervous breakdown in 1910, and Adams
took over as Acting Director for a year. From that time onward,
Hale had progressively more difficulty concentrating, with
occasional severe headaches, frequent depression (25), and
sometimes even departures from reality (7). He withdrew more and
more from active research, spending long periods of time resting or
traveling, as Adams became increasingly responsible for the
detailed supervision of the observatory, first as Assistant Director
in 1913, and then as Director in 1923, when Hale resigned (28). Over
the years until he himself retired in 1946, and even after, Adams
made many important research contributions, particularly in high-
dispersion stellar spectroscopy. He stamped Mount Wilson with his
own image of quiet conservative competence, which it retains to this
day.

Hale not only brought faculty members from Y erkes Observatory
to Mount Wilson, but telescopes as well. In addition to the glass
blank for the 60-inch mirror, he wanted badly to take the Snow
telescope, a fixed horizontal instrument with a coelostat, especially
designed for observations of the sun, to get started at the Mount
Wilson Solar Observatory. However, neither Miss Helen Snow of
Chicago, donor of the funds with which the telescope had been
constructed, nor Frost, the Acting Director at Yerkes, wanted to let
it go. Yet within a few months the ever persuasive Hale had
convinced them to let him have it, and the Snow telescope was soon
transported west and mounted in its own building on Mount Wilson,
where it is still in use for special solar observing programs (29).

Hale also managed to persuade Hooker, who later provided the
funds for the 100-inch mirror, to put up the necessary money to
bring Barnard and the Bruce photographic telescope from Yerkes
to Mount Wilson to photograph the southern Milky Way, inaccessi¬
ble from Wisconsin, but this was planned as a temporary expedition
and both instrument and observer soon did in fact return to Yerkes.
The Bruce telescope was mounted for many years in a small dome
between the Yerkes Observatory main building and Lake Geneva,
but it was removed and the building demolished in the 1960s.

1978]

Osterbrock—Axis in American Astronomy

11

Over the years of Hale’s directorship several more Yerkes
products joined the Mount Wilson staff. Charles St. John was a late
bloomer who received his Ph.D. from Harvard in 1896 at the age of
39, and then became Professor of Physics and Astronomy and
eventually Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Oberlin
College in Ohio. His heart was in research, however, and he spent
several summers at Yerkes, working on solar observational
problems. In 1908, when St. John was 51, an age at which many
scientists are shifting into adminstration, Hale offered him a job at
Mount Wilson, and he moved west, where he pursued an active solar
research career well beyond his formal retirement (30, 31).

Alfred Joy, a graduate of Oberlin, was teaching at what is now the
American University in Beirut at the time of the Lick Observatory
expedition to Egypt to observe the solar eclipse of 1906 at Aswan.
Joy joined the expedition and became so interested in astronomy
that he returned to the United States for summer volunteer work at
Yerkes in 1910 and 1911, and a year’s study at Princeton, and then
was taken on the Yerkes staff in 1914. After a year at Yerkes,
however, he made the move to Mount Wilson, and worked there the
rest of his life in stellar spectroscopy. Though he “retired” in 1948 at
the age of 65, he continued observing at the telescope until he
reached 70, and still came to the Pasadena offices of the Observatory
almost daily until his death in 1973 at the age of 91 (32, 33).

Another eventual Mount Wilson Observatory staff member,
Edison Pettit, was born and educated at Peru, Nebraska, and then
taught astronomy at Washburn College in Kansas for several years.
However, in the summer of 1917 he went to Yerkes Observatory,
and he liked it so well he returned there as a graduate student for
two years until he was offered a job at Mount Wilson, where he
remained until his retirement in 1955. He was a dedicated solar and
planetary observer, who also pioneered in the measurement of
stellar radiation with thermocouples (34).

Surely the Mount Wilson astronomer who had the most impact on
the public was Edwin Hubble, who received his Ph.D. degree at
Yerkes in 1917. He had been a student at the University of Chicago,
where he worked as a laboratory assistant to Robert Millikan, the
Nobel prize-winning physicist who later became president of
Caltech. When he graduated from Chicago in 1910 .Hubble was
awarded a Rhodes Scholarship and went to Oxford for three years to
study law. He practiced in Kentucky for a year, but then decided
astronomy was the only thing that really mattered to him, and he

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

returned to Chicago and to Yerkes where he did his thesis with the
24-inch reflector, Ritchey's old telescope, photographing faint
nebulae (35). Hubble was offered a position at Mount Wilson, but
when he had finished his thesis and passed his final oral
examination in 1917, he joined the Army and sent a telegram to
Hale, “Regret cannot accept your invitation. Am off to war.” He was
mustered out a Major in 1919, and immediately joined the Mount
Wilson staff.

Hubble was technically a rather poor observer, as his old
photographic plates in the Mount Wilson files show, but he had
tremendous drive and creative insight, and within a few years he
was able to distinguish between galactic and extragalactic nebulae
and to understand and prove the physical natures of both of these
classes of objects. He soon grasped the correlation between the red-
shifts and distances of galaxies, and used it to explore observational-
ly “the realm of the galaxies,” the modern version of the title of his
epoch-making book. Hubble was a more outgoing character than
most astronomers, a fine speaker who projected a hearty, soldierly,
Rhodes-scholar image, and who had a wide circle of friends outside
astronomy and university life (36, 37). He had an excellent sense for
public relations, and was constantly called on for radio talks and
popular articles. On one occasion in the 1940s the Mount Wilson
spectroscopists, concerned that people might think that cosmology
was the only problem studied at the observatory, arranged a press
conference at which they planned to let the world know of their own
contributions. Reporters were invited from the Southern California
newspapers and even from the national magazines. Hubble was not
notified of the press conference, but of course heard of it from his
newspaper friends; he wandered into the library where it was in
progress and the reporters, bored with the accounts they had heard
of spectroscopy of carbon stars, spectroscopy of M giants, and
spectroscopy of cepheid variables, asked if Dr. Hubble had done
anything in the line of spectroscopy. He modestly disclaimed any
personal involvement, but launched into a gripping explanation of
the age and origin of the universe as revealed by Mount Wilson
observations, emphasizing the role of spectroscopy as practiced by
his collaborator Milton Humason, and this was the story that the
newspapers and magazines used (38).

There were tremendous personal contrasts between the
transplanted Kentuckian Hubble, and the frugal New Englander
Adams, but these two Yerkes products were the outstanding
observational astronomers of their generation.

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

13

WASHBURN OBSERVATORY

One of their contemporaries, Joel Stebbins, was undoubtedly the
greatest astronomer the University of Wisconsin ever had on its
faculty, a man who in his career very closely linked California and
Wisconsin. Stebbins, a native of Nebraska, attended the state
university there as an undergraduate, and then went to the
University of Wisconsin for one year as a graduate student, but
George Comstock, the one and only Professor of Astronomy at that
time, recognized his abilities and advised him to move on to a bigger
observatory with more research opportunities. Stebbins nearly
decided to go to Yerkes to work with Hale, but instead decided on
Lick, where Comstock had spent one summer as a research
volunteer. After he earned his Ph.D., Stebbins’ first position was at
the University of Illinois, where he began to experiment with the
photoelectric cells with which he revolutionized astronomy. He
returned to the University of Wisconsin in 1922, where he remained
as Director of Washburn Observatory and Professor of Astronomy
until he retired in 1948. During these years he observed almost
every type of astronomical object photoelectrically, with cells and
multipliers which, because of their high photon efficiency and
linearity, made possible for the first time the accurate quantitative
measurement of the brightnesses and colors of stars, clusters and
galaxies (39).

Stebbins maintained his contacts in California, and was often
invited to bring his photoelectric photometer west to observe with
the big California telescopes. He spent 1926-27 at Lick Observatory
as Alexander Morrison Fellow, and in 1931 was appointed a
Research Associate of Mount Wilson, where he went for several
months’ observation nearly every year until he retired. Like many
another ex-California astronomer, Stebbins keenly felt the cold
Wisconsin winters, and he had planned to live in Pasadena after his
retirement at the age of 70, but his and all other Research
Associateships were terminated in an economy move and he had to
abandon this dream (40, 41). Instead he became a Research
Associate at Lick Observatory, and moved to Menlo Park,
California, making weekly trips to Mount Hamilton for ten more
years, participating actively in the research with collaborators on
the Lick faculty (42).

Stebbins returned to Madison to give the principal address at the
dedication of the then new Pine Bluff Observatory in the Town of

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Cross Plains in July 1958, and an oil portrait of him, presented to the
University at that time, is on display in the foyer there.

Stebbins’ student and the first Ph.D. in Astronomy at the
University of Wisconsin, was C. M. Huffer, who previously had
gotten his master’s degree at Illinois in 1917 and then spent five
years in Chile with the D. 0. Mills Expedition of the Lick
Observatory. This was an observing station with a 36-inch reflector,
maintained for several years at Cerro San Cristobal, in the outskirts
of Santiago, in order to make radial-velocity measurements of stars
in the southern skies inaccessible from Mount Hamilton. On his
return to the States in 1922 Huffer went to Wisconsin, where he
received his Ph.D. in 1926, joined the faculty, taught and did
photoelectric research, initially with Stebbins, until he retired in
1961. He then began anew career at the California State University
in San Diego, teaching astronomy to numerous students until he
retired again in 1969, and he now lives in Alpine, California, near
San Diego.

Another Wisconsin product, Albert Whitford, was an un¬
dergraduate at Milton College, and then did his graduate work in
Physics at the University of Wisconsin. After receiving his Ph.D. in
1932, Whitford went to Mount Wilson Observatory and Caltech for
two years on a post-doctoral fellowship, and then returned to
Wisconsin, where he collaborated closely with Stebbins, particular¬
ly in photoelectric measurements of interstellar reddening, of
globular clusters, and of galaxies. Much of the observing was done
at Mount Wilson, where Whitford continued to go as a guest
investigator after he had succeeded Stebbins as Director of
Washburn Observatory. In 1958 Whitford left Wisconsin to become
the eighth Director of Lick Observatory, and was responsible for the
completion of its 120-inch reflector, which had been begun under
his predecessor, Donald Shane. Whitford gave up the directorship
at Lick in 1968, and retired from the faculty in 1973, though he
continues to live in Santa Cruz and spends much of his time on
astronomical research.

Two other of Stebbins’ students who went on to become members
of the Lick staff were Gerald Kron and Olin Eggen. Kron, a native of
Milwaukee, did his undergraduate work at Madison and worked as
an assistant to Stebbins, making several observing trips to
California with him (42). He did his graduate work at Lick
Observatory, and then worked there on the faculty from 1938 until
1965. Eggen, who was born in Orfordville, (Whitford used to refer to

1978]

Osterhrock — Axis in American Astronomy

15

him as the other member of the Rock County Astronomical Society),
was a graduate student at Wisconsin, where he received the second
Ph.D. ever granted in Astronomy. In 1948 he became a member of
the Lick faculty, where he stayed until 1956, afterwards going to the
Royal Observatory in England, to Caltech, to the Australian
National University, and most recently to the Cerro Tolols
Interamerican Observatory in Chile. Both Kron and Eggen are
experts in photoelectric photometry, which they had first learned at
Wisconsin, and then applied at Lick, particularly to research on
globular clusters and on color-magnitude diagrams, respectively.

YERKES OBSERVATORY

Stebbins was not the only Wisconsin astronomer to retire to
California. One of his predecessors was Frank Ross, who had been a
member of the Yerkes faculty for fifteen years until he retired in
1939 and moved to Altadena. Ross was born in San Francisco, and
did his undergraduate and graduate work at Berkeley where, in
1901, he received one of the first two Mathematics Ph.D. degrees
given by the University of California. His training was in celestial
mechanics, and he worked at the Carnegie Institution for several
years on orbital computations of planets and satellites, but then
went to Eastman Kodak as a research physicist, specializing in
lenses and photographic techniques. He was invited to join the
Yerkes faculty as a photographic expert in 1924, and his main
contribution there was a photographic survey of the sky that went
beyond Barnard’s earlier work and revealed many new features of
the interstellar matter in our Galaxy. As the outstanding
astronomical photographer of his day, Ross was invited to Mount
Wilson to use the 60- and 100-inch telescopes to study Mars and
Venus in the late 1920s and many of his photographs taken then
were very widely used and reproduced for years afterward. After
his retirement Ross had an office in the Mount Wilson Observatory,
where he worked as an optical consultant until his death in 1960. He
designed the Ross corrector lens that is used for almost all direct
photographs of nebulae and galaxies taken with the 200-inch
telescope, as well as the 20-inch Ross astrograph lens used for the
fundamental proper-motion program at Lick Observatory (43, 44).

Just a year before Stebbins moved from Illinois to Madison, Otto
Struve emigrated from Russia, by way of Turkey, to Williams Bay.
Struve was born in Kharkov, where his father was Professor of

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Figure 2. — Otto Struve 1897-1963. He
was successively Director of the
Yerkes Observatory of the University
of Chicago, Williams Bay, Wisconsin,
and Chairman of the Berkeley

Astronomy Department of the Univer¬
sity of California. Here he is shown
standing outside Yerkes Observatory.
Yerkes Observatory Photograph.

Astronomy; his grandfather and great-grandfather both had been
Directors of Pulkovo Observatory, and his uncle was a famous
astronomer in Germany. Struve as a very young man served as an
officer in the Russian army in World War I, and then after a short
interval as a student, in the White army fighting the Bolsheviks.
After the collapse of the Whites, he managed to flee to Turkey, and
eventually was brought to Yerkes Observatory by Frost in 1921.
Struve completed his graduate work and received his Ph.D. in 1923,
and continued on the Yerkes faculty until 1950, when he left to
become Chairman of the Berkeley Astronomy Department of the
University of California. Struve was an outstanding stellar
spectroscopist, who in his observational efforts applied the new
results of quantum mechanics, particularly on ionization and
excitation, to trying to understand stellar atmospheres and the

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

17

physics of stellar evolution. He worked single-mindedly at
astrophysical research and produced a prodigious number of
papers, particularly on stellar rotation, binary stars and peculiar
stars of all kinds. Struve was appointed Director of Yerkes
Observatory when Frost retired in 1932, and he picked and led the
brilliant staff that made it famous in the 1940s and 1950s (45). They
included Gerard Kuiper, a Dutch astronomer who was at Lick
Observatory for two years as a post-doctoral fellow before joining
the Yerkes staff in 1936, and W. W. Morgan, a 1931 Yerkes
graduate who remained on the faculty there, and in fact was elected
President of the Village Board of Williams Bay for two terms in the
1940s. Morgan was a Morrison Fellow at Lick in 1955, a Visiting
Professor at Caltech in 1957, and over the years made several
extended visits to the Mount Wilson and Palomar Observatories for
research work with the collection of photographs of galaxies there.

CALIFORNIA

During Struve’s years there was a constant traffic of astronomers
back and forth between California and Wisconsin. Two Californians
who did observational theses at Lick and received their Ph.D.s at
Berkeley, and then joined the Yerkes staff in 1939 were Daniel
Popper and Horace Babcock. At Yerkes they broadened their
experience and skills in stellar spectroscopy, and after a few years
returned to California, where Popper is now a senior professor at
UCLA, while Babcock has recently retired as Director of Hale
Observatories, His father, Harold Babcock, who was born in
Edgerton but moved to California at an early age, was a member of
the Mount Wilson staff before him. A gentle, sensitive soul, Harold
Babcock idolized Hale; his long poem “In 1903” describing Hale’s
first visit to Mount Wilson ends with the stanza (46)

“How fortunate that little group of men
Whom in those next swift years he chose to be
His friends and colleagues in the appointed task
Of realizing what he had foreseen!

We cannot speak the things we wish to say,

But bright and clear within our inner hearts
Devotion’s timeless flame burns on.”

Fifteen years after these lines were written, Harold and Horace
Babcock, working at the Hale Solar Laboratory in Pasadena,

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

proved the existence of the general magnetic field of the sun, an
observation Hale tried very hard to make himself, and would have
applauded if he had still been alive (47).

During the 1930s two German astronomers, Walter Baade and
Rudolph Minkowski, emigrated to America from Hamburg and
joined the Mount Wilson staff. Baade, the first to come, originally
had a Wanderjahr (1926-27) in the United States on a Rockefeller
Fellowship, in the course of which he spent several months at
Yerkes, at Lick and at Mount Wilson (48). He loved to tell stories
about his summer in Williams Bay; it was during the days of
Prohibition and the landlady of the boarding house in which he
stayed was a strict Teetotaler, while her two sons, approximately
Baade’s age, were not, at least whenever they could get out from
under Mother’s eyes. It was a situation that appealed to him and he
could never forget their escapades, in which he himself was
fully involved, hiding cases of beer in a tent in the back yard, in
the woods around the house, or under his bed (49). Baade’s great
contribution to astronomy, the recognition of the two stellar
populations, young stars and old, was the result in part of the fact
that he, technically an enemy alien, was one of the very few
astronomers not involved in military research in World War II. As a
result he had a large amount of observing time with the 100-inch
telescope, in skies made dark by the Southern California wartime
dim-out, and was able to photograph extremely faint stars in
neighboring galaxies.

Minkowski, who came to Mount Wilson in 1935, four years after
Baade, was responsible with him for the identification and
interpretation of the newly discovered radio sources in the 1950s.
After his retirement from the Mount Wilson and Palomar
Observatories, Minkowski was a Visiting Professor at Madison in
1960-61, and then moved to Berkeley, where he was a Research
Associate for several years until his death in 1976.

After World War II, when the Caltech administration decided to
build up an astrophysics department to match the 200-inch
telescope, the first new faculty member to be brought in was Jesse
Greenstein, who came from the Yerkes faculty in 1948, followed in
succession by Guido Munch, a Yerkes Ph.D. who had stayed on the
Yerkes faculty, myself, a Yerkes Ph. D., and Arthur Code, a Yerkes
Ph.D. who had joined the University of Wisconsin faculty. Only
after these four appointments was the magic Wisconsin circle
broken, and the next new faculty member came from Princeton. In
those same years several other Yerkes students and faculty

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

19

members were moving west to the big observatories in California.
Louis Henyey, a Yerkes Ph.D. and faculty member until 1947 went
to Berkeley a few years before Struve; John Phillips, a Yerkes Ph.D.
who stayed on there as a lecturer for two years, went with Struve;
and Su-shu Huang, another Yerkes Ph.D. and lecturer, went a year
after Struve. Armin Deutsch, a Yerkes Ph.D., joined the Mount
Wilson and Palomar Observatories in 1951, while William
Bidelman, another Yerkes Ph.D., joined the Lick Observatory
faculty in 1953 after three years on the Yerkes faculty. Basically, all
these men were carrying the Yerkes spectroscopy tradition to
California. A counter movement brought Harold Johnson from
Berkeley, where he earned his Ph.D., to the Wisconsin faculty in
1949 and then to Yerkes in 1950, and Aden Meinel from Berkeley to
Yerkes in 1949. A few years later, Helmut Abt, who earned his
Ph.D. at Caltech in 1952 and then spent one year at Lick as a post¬
doctoral research fellow, joined the Yerkes staff.

RECENT PAST

In the more recent past, when the University of Wisconsin
administration decided to expand to a full-fledged graduate
program in astronomy, it brought Arthur Code and myself from
Caltech in 1958, and within a few years we were joined by John
Mathis, who had received his Ph.D. at Caltech in 1956, and later by
Robert Parker and Christopher Anderson, both Caltech Ph.D.s, and
by Jack Forbes, a Berkeley Ph.D. When Forbes left Wisconsin, he
was replaced by Kenneth Nordsieck, a University of California-San
Diego and Lick Observatory product. Half the present University of
Wisconsin astronomy faculty members are linked by graduate
training or previous faculty experience in California.

Likewise, at Yerkes the present Director, Lewis Hobbs, is a
University of Wisconsin Ph.D. who had a post-doctoral research
position at Lick Observatory before returning to Yerkes, and his
two immediate predecessors were also closely associated with
California. William Van Altena, the Director before Hobbs, is a
Berkeley Ph.D. who did his thesis at Lick, while C. Robert O'Dell,
the Director before Van Altena, is a Wisconsin Ph.D. who was a
post-doctoral fellow at Mount Wilson and Palomar Observatories
and then a faculty member at Berkeley before returning to
Williams Bay. The two newest faculty members at Yerkes, Kyle
Cudworth and Richard Kron, are recent University of California
Ph.D.'s from Lick and Berkeley respectively.

20

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

At Lick Observatory at present nearly all the senior professors
have Wisconsin connections. George Herbig, Merle Walker and
Robert Kraft are all Berkeley Ph.D.s who spent some time at
Yerkes, Herbig as a post-doctoral fellow in 1950-51, Walker as
research associate in 1954-55, and Kraft as an assistant professor in
1961-63. 1 am a Yerkes, Ph.D. and the third director of Lick to come
from the University of Wisconsin faculty. Joseph Wampler did his
graduate work at Yerkes and received his Ph.D. in 1963 before
coming to Lick, first as a post-doctoral fellow, and then joining the
faculty in 1965. Among the associate professors, Joseph Miller was a
UCLA undergraduate, then did his graduate work at Madison and
received his Ph.D. in 1967, and then came to Lick, while William
Mathews spent one year as a graduate student at Yerkes before
transferring to Berkeley. George Blumenthal did his un¬
dergraduate work at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee
before getting his -Ph.D. at San Diego in 1970, and then coming to
Santa Cruz as an assistant professor two years later.

At the present time the only ex-Wisconsinite on the Hale
Observatories staff besides Greenstein is Jerome Kristian, who
grew up in Milwaukee, did his graduate work at Yerkes, and was a
faculty member at Madison from 1964 until 1968 before going to
California. And at Berkeley there are no astronomical immigrants
from Wisconsin except Phillips and Harold Weaver, a Berkeley
Ph.D. who was a post-doctoral fellow at Yerkes in 1942-43 before
returning to the University of California in 1945. However, the
other University of California campuses are full of them. At San
Diego, Geoffrey and Margaret Burbidge did post-doctoral research
work at Yerkes in 1951-53 when they first came over from England,
then after a year back at Cambridge went to Caltech for three years
where they were very active in opening up the field of stellar
nucleogenesis. From Caltech they returned to Yerkes, where
Geoffrey Burbidge was on the faculty and Margaret Burbidge was
initially a research associate and later a faculty member during the
years 1957-1962 and then they went to UCSD, where they both are
faculty members. At UCLA two of the eight present astronomy
faculty members are Wisconsin Ph.D.s — Harland Epps and
Holland Ford. In addition, in the California State University
system there are three more astronomy faculty members who did
their graduate work at the University of Wisconsin, Burt Nelson
and C. T. Daub at San Diego, and Joseph Boone at San Luis Obispo.
Boone at San Luis Obispo.

1978]

Osterbrock — Axis in American Astronomy

21

Over the years, from Holden and Hale's days down to our own,
about half the Wisconsin astronomers have had strong California
ties, and vice versa. No other pair of states are so intimately linked
astronomically. Probably in future years there will be more
California-Arizona connections, because of the growth of the Kitt
Peak — University of Arizona complex in Tucson, but there is little
sign that the California-Wisconsin ties have slackened yet.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I am deeply grateful to many friends and colleagues for
suggestions, ideas and comments on the California-Wisconsin Axis.
I am particularly grateful to Mrs. Mary Shane, Mrs. Frances
Greeby, and my wife Irene for locating research material for me in
the University of California libraries and in the Lick Observatory
Archives, which are deposited in the Dean E. McHenry Library of
the University of California, Santa Cruz. All dates and ap¬
pointments not specifically referenced in this article are from
contemporary editions of American Men of Science.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Lick, R. 1967. The Generous Miser , The Story of James Lick of
California. Ward Ritchie Press, San Francisco.

2. Chriss, M. 1973. The stars move west. Mercury 2, No. 4: 10-15.

3. Watson, J. C. Letter to R. Floyd, August 24, 1880. Lick Obs. Archives.

4. Comstock, G. C. 1895. Biographical memoir of James Craig Watson.
Biog. Mem. Nat. Acad. Sci. 3:45-47.

5. Newcomb, S. 1903. Reminiscences of an Astronomer. Houghton, Mifflin
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6. Campbell, W. W. 1916. Edward Singleton Holden. Biog. Mem. Nat.
Acad. Sci. 8:347-367.

7. Wright, H. I960. Explorer of the Universe; A Biography of George Ellery
Hale. E. P. Dutton and Co., New York.

8. Curti, M. and Carstensen, V. 1949. The University of Wisconsin 1:534-
536. Univ. of Wis. Press, Madison.

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9. Merrill, P. W. 1959. William Hammond Wright 1871-1959. Pub.
Astron. Soc. Pac. 71:305-306.

10. San Jose Mercury. July 21, 1892. Lick Obs. Archives.

11. Lick Obs. Pub. 1888. 1: title page.

12. Burnham, S. W. 1888. Report. Lick Obs. Pub. 1:13-23.

13. Pub. Washburn Obs. 1882. The Six-inch Clark equatorial. 2:8.

14. Chriss, M. 1973. Of stars and men. Lick Observatory’s first decade.
Mercury 2, No. 5:3-8.

15. Frost, E. B. 1924. Shelburne Wesley Burnham 1838-1922. Astrophys.
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16. Frost, E. B. 1927. Edward Emerson Barnard. Astrophys. J. 58:1-35.

17. Barnard, E. E., Letter to E. S. Holden, August 20, 1887. Lick Obs.
Archives.

18. Barnard, E. E., Letter to Board of Regents, June 5, 1895. Lick Obs.
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19. San Francisco Bulletin. February 24, 1893. Lick Obs. Archives.

20. Hastings, C. S. 1905. Biographical Memoir of James Edward Keeler,
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21. Keeler, J. E. 1901. The Crossley reflector of the Lick Observatory.
Astrophys. J. 11:325-349.

22. Keeler, J. E. 1908. Photographs of nebulae and clusters made with the
Crossley reflector. Pub. Lick Obs. 8:1-46.

23. Ritchey, G. W. 1901. The two-foot reflecting telescope of the Yerkes
Observatory. Astrophys. J. 14:217-233.

24. Ritchey, G. W. 1904. Astronomical photography with the forty-inch
refractor and the two-foot reflector of the Yerkes Observatory. Pub.
Yerkes Obs. 2:387-397.

25. Adams, W. S. 1941. Biographical memoir of George Ellery Hale, 1868-
1938. Biog. Mem. Nat. Acad. Sci. 21:181-241.

26. Adams, W. S. 1947. Early days at Mount Wilson. Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac.
59: 213-231, 285-304.

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27. Adams, W. S. 1938. Francis G. Pease. Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac. 50:119-

121.

28. Joy, A. H. 1958. Walter Sydney Adams 1876-1956. Biog. Mem. Nat.
Acad. Sci. 31:1-31.

29. Adams, W. S. 1954. The founding of the Mount Wilson Observatory.
Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac. 66:267-303.

30. Abbot, C. G. 1935. Charles Edward St. John. Astrophys. J. 82:273-283.

31. Adams, W. S. 1937. Charles Edward St. John. Biog. Mem. Nat. Acad.
Sci. 18:285-304.

32. Abt, H. A. 1973. Alfred Herman Joy (1882-1973). Mercury, 2, No. 5:9-

10.

33. Herbig, G. 1974. Alfred Herman Joy. Quart. J. Roy. Astron. Soc.
15:526-531.

34. Nicholson, S. B. 1962. Edison Pettit 1889-1962. Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac.
74:495-498.

35. Hubble, E. P. 1920. Photographic investigations of faint nebulae. Pub.
Yerkes Obs. 4:69-85.

36. Robertson, H. P. 1954. Edwin Powell Hubble 1889-1953. Pub. Astron.
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37. Mayall, N. U. 1970. Edwin Powell Hubble. Biog. Mem. Nat. Acad. Sci.
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38. Personal reminiscence of Dr. Walter Baade to author. September 1957.

39. Greenstein, J. L. 1948. The seventieth anniversary of Professor Joel
Stebbins and of the Washburn Observatory. Pop. Astron. 55, No. 6:1-3.

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41. Stebbins, J. Letter to W. H. Wright, February 14, 1936. Lick Obs.
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78:214-222.

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43. Nicholson, S. B. 1961. Frank Elmore Ross 1874-1960. Pub. Astron. Soc.
Pac. 73:182-184.

44. Morgan, W. W. 1967. Frank Elmore Ross. Biog. Mem. Nat. Acad. Sci.
39:391-402.

45. Goldberg, L. 1967. Otto Struve. Quart. J. Roy. Astron. Soc. 5:284-290.

46. Babcock, H. D. 1938. In 1903. Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac. 51:19-23.

47. Babcock, H. W. and Babcock, H. D. 1955. The sun’s magnetic field,
1952-1954. Astrophys. J. 121:349-366.

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Baade. Pub. Astron. Soc. Pac. 67:57-61.

49. Personal reminiscence of Dr. Walter Baade to author, August 1954.

THE STOUGHTON FAVILLE PRAIRIE PRESERVE:
SOME HISTORICAL ASPECTS

Robert A. McCabe

University of Wisconsin-
Madison

The Stoughton [W.] Faville Prairie
Preserve is part of the once-extensive
Crawfish prairie that covered about
1,800 acres in the Milford and Waterloo townships of Jefferson
County. This paper traces the history and describes the background
of the Stoughton [W.] Faville Prairie Preserve and the man for
whom it was named.

Ever since I was a small boy with orange stains of bloodroot-blood
on my fingers I have had an interest in wildflowers. It was not until I
was a graduate student living at the Faville Homestead Farm north
of Lake Mills that I became physically and emotionally involved
with prairie, prairie wildflowers and Stoughton Willis Faville. The
scenario follows.

There was a move afoot in the mid-1930’s by my major professor,
Aldo Leopold, Chairman of the Department of Wildlife Manage¬
ment, University of Wisconsin, to set aside a permanently protected
tract of virgin prairie for esthetic and scientific purposes. I knew
little of this in August 1939 when I arrived on his doorstep at the
University.

He was also attempting to find a group of cooperative farmers on
whose land he could practice wildlife management and undertake
wildlife research. Such a group was found at Lake Mills. Stoughton
W. Faville and his son-in-law, Frank W. Tillotson, were the key
persons in Leopold’s attempt to develop a program for training
students and for helping the farmer get the most from the wildlife
on his farm.

Leopold wrote to P. E. McNall a Professor of Agricultural
Economics, on February 27, 1936:

25

26

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

“As I told you, I think the Faville Grove and Lake Mills
community would be an excellent place to make a really serious test
of the idea of reconnecting people with land.” And, “I am beginning
to realize that the extraordinary personality of Stoughton Faville
offers a very valuable focal point which would help greatly to get the
community started in this direction.” Leopold was correct on both
assumptions as was borne out by the events of the next ten years.

The following anonymous abbreviated historical summary found
in the University of Wisconsin Archives describes how the
Department of Wildlife Management (now Wildlife Ecology)
became involved in the formation of the Faville Grove Wildlife
[Experimental] Area and ultimately in the creation of the
Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve.

“In 1931 Professor P. E. McNall, advisor to the Milford Meadows
farm, Lake Mills, Jefferson County, Wisconsin, asked Professor
Aldo Leopold of the University of Wisconsin what the prospects
were of increasing wildlife on that farm. After examining the land,
Mr. Leopold’s opinion was that the venture was worth trying. A
winter feeding program for upland game birds carried on largely
by Mr. Sam Kisow of Lake Mills formed the basis for subsequent
developments involving local participation. A program for in¬
volving high school students was also part of the developing idea.

“The F aville Grove W ildlife Experimental Area was a 2,000-acre
tract of land composed of the farms of S. W. Faville (Frank W.
Tillotson, manager), William Hildebrandt, W. W. Kinyon and son,
Ben Berg (the Reverend Mr. Leroy Partch, owner), Milford
Meadows (Mrs. C. J. Lawrence, owner; John Last, manager), Otto
Lang, part of the Lynn Faville farm, and a leased portion of prairie
land. (Fig. 1).

“The area is located about two miles north of Lake Mills,
Wisconsin, on County Trunk Highway G [now Wisconsin Highway
89], and contains typical southern Wisconsin cultivated lands,
pastures, tamarack swamps, one of the best virgin prairie relics in
the state, and small-unit hardwood woodlots, some of which are free
from grazing.

“One of the main purposes of the area is to demonstrate that
scientific planning and methods can result in a game crop as well as
a plant crop, and that the two can be combined on the same area to
the farmer’s benefit. Even if it had no other advantage, the presence
of wild life on a farm makes it a more interesting and more desirable
place on which to live.

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

27

CRAWFISH PRAIRIE SOUTHERN EXTENSION

1940

28

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

“The scientific data that were collected included: growth studies
of certain woody plants under various conditions; study of prairie
plant succession; observation of game-bird movements through
censusing and banding; investigation of effects of differential sex-
mortality in the nesting of bob-white quail; quail irruption study;
and several lesser projects.

“Any ambitious farmer, of course, wishes to improve his farm, but
usually he has little time to spare beyond his actual farming
activities. To overcome this handicap, the University of Wisconsin
furnished graduate students, under the guidance of Mr. Leopold, to
supervise planting operations, gather scientific data, and otherwise
carry out the management plan previously drawn up. Cooperation
was given by several departments in the College of Agriculture.

“To gain and hold the much needed interest and help of
townspeople, Sam Kisow acted as a local advisor, and filled this
position in an admirable manner. He was a sportsman and
conservationist who understood wild life and kept in touch with all
the latest conservation thought and developments.

“Most important of all, each farmer member went out of his way
to cooperate. Without this help the project would have been
impossible. It should be strongly emphasized here that the farmer,
not the scientist or the investigator, was the key man in the success
of this type of program. Without the farmer’s complete cooperation,
interest, and advice, there can be no such thing as wild life
restoration or game management.”

This area was used from 1935 to 1941 as a training site for
University graduate students in wildlife management. At least 10
students were stationed at (several lived with a farm family)
“Faville Grove” and received training or completed research on the
area. I was the last of the full-time students to be part of this area-
oriented research program.

The last paragraphs of this history deal with the basic philosophy
and set forth the primary tenet in this cooperative effort.

“One caution: Wild life is not a miracle crop; it does cost
something in time, labor and money, and no farmer should go into it
with the idea that it is a ‘get rich quick’ enterprise. However, it is
safe to say that the man who is willing to apply the principles of wild
life management to his farm will eventually reap a harvest of
pleasure and satisfaction from the presence of wild things on his
land, in addition to the monetary reward derived from the sale of
hunting privileges, if he so desires.

1978]

McCabe— Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

29

“It is hoped that the management techniques being worked out on
the Faville Grove area can in the future be applied to a much larger
proportion of farm lands. If this can be done, it is not improbable
that the once abundant wild life resources of American farms can in
some measure be restored.

“Wisconsin is one of the few states in the country which is
experimenting with this cooperative method of restoring game on
farms. Consequently all those who aid in the Faville Grove or
similar ventures are helping toward the solution of one of the most
serious problems in conservation, namely, the retaining of wild life
as a true American heritage.”

In this context, the basic idea of managing wildlife was expanded
to preserving plant communities apart from any relationship to
wildlife, although the two are inseparable. The intrinsic value of a
plant community as a biological entity was regarded as having the
same integrity as any animal or group of animals; so taught Aldo
Leopold. It is not surprising that Leopold’s students held the same
view of prairie as their teacher. In this environment prairie
wildflowers became part of a student’s ecological education.

Once cooperation with the farmers was achieved, Leopold began
to explore broadening the scope of biological activities, particularly
prairie preservation, on the newly formed research area and thus
his students became involved as well. At that time he was a member
of the Arboretum Committee, administering the 1100-acre Univer¬
sity of Wisconsin Arboretum and Wildlife Refuge on the outskirts of
Madison. He interested two botanists from the committee, John T.
Curtis and Norman C. Fassett, in the Faville area and together they
attempted unsuccessfully to get the university to purchase the
critical parcels identified as virgin prairie. Arthur S. Hawkins, a
Leopold graduate student, was the key person in the initial
reconnaissance of the Crawfish Prairie.

At this time (October, 1938) Leopold reported (U. W. Archives) to
one of the landowners, a Mrs. Emmons Blaine, whose financial
means were greater than one might derive from farm income alone,
as follows:

“To carry forward the botanical work the university needs land on
which remnants of the native vegetation still exist, and on which
experiments can be conducted without risk of disruption.”

The botanical work referred to were plots to be established by
John T. Curtis. I have not been able to find what or where these plots
were or whether they were ever established as described in the

30

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

letter. The needed land had been tentatively selected as early as
1937, by Hawkins and Leopold. The basic unit was 107 acres north
of the present Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve which was
offered for sale by Mr. W. W. Kinyon because he had moved from
rural Lake Mills to Madison. His attorney, Robery P. Ferry of Lake
Mi 11s, was sympathetic to the idea that Mr. Kinyon’s holding be used
for educational and scientific purposes.

Some of Ferry’s letters are curt and express impatience with Aldo
Leopold, who was struggling to get a financial commitment from
any quarter to purchase that part of the prairie. The normally slow
land transaction of the latter part of the “great depression” was
made urgent because the Federal Land Bank of St. Paul held a lien
on the property. Taxes were mounting on the land awaiting a new
owner. For the next two years hopes were raised and then fell; the
necessary funding was a now-you-have-it now-you-don’t will-o’-the-
wisp. One constructive step was an appraisal of the 107 aces made
by three local farmers, John Last, F. W. Tillotson and L. H. Crump.
Their appraisal was $17.50 per acre. The report was sent to Leopold
who paid the appraisers’ bill, three appraisers at $2.00 and $1.00
automobile transportation— $7.00. P. E. McNall apparently had
written (U.W. Archives) on September 15, 1938 to these men as
follows (in part):

“Gentlemen:

“Please be advised you are requested on behalf of the University
of Wisconsin, Division of Game Management to act as a committee
of appraisal for the purpose of appraising and setting a fair sale
value on the following parcels of land;

“Kenyon-Crump (sic) farm, northerly 107 acres

“C. C. Faville 60 acres [father of Lynn and brother of Stoughton];

“Mrs. Angus Lange, east one-third about 20 acres.

“A. Lange, 10 acres.”

(These lands were the prime wildflower areas on the Crawfish
prairie.)

This letter, an unsigned copy in the University Archives, was
doubtless written and sent by P. E. McNall since he calls the
Department of Wildlife Management a “division” and closes with
“Very truly yours.” Leopold letters usually closed with “Yours
sincerely.” By what authority this request was made I do not know,
nor for that matter do I know why Leopold paid the appraisal bill.

The initial overture for purchase was made earlier on May 24,
1938 by three members of the University’s Arboretum Committee,

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

31

but the letter (U. W. Archives) appears again to have been composed
by P. E. McNall and was addressed to Mr. Ferry as follows:

“Dear Mr. Ferry:

“Referring to our conversation concerning the activities of the
University in the vicinity of Lake Mills.

“The University is desirous of acquiring for scientific purposes
the north half of the northeast quarter of Section 19, Township 8
North, Range 14 East, and that part of the west half of Section 20
lying west of the Crawfish River and northerly of the southwest
quarter of the southwest quarter of Section 20. This comprises, as
you know, 80 acres of pasture land adjoined by a narrow strip of 127
acres along the river.

“Will you kindly ascertain from Mr. Wallace Kinyon what the
purchase price would be, including the cost of the release of the
lands from the Federal Farm loan which we understand to be a lien
upon the same? Your prompt reply will be appreciated, as we would
like to complete the purchase within the next few weeks if
practicable”.

E. M. Gilbert, N. C. Fassett (U. W. Department of Botany) and
Aldo Leopold were the signers. The request for a prompt reply so
that the purchase could be completed “within the next few weeks”
was pure optimism. I found no administrative commitment by the
University to encourage or culminate such a transaction.

Aldo Leopold now (October 1938) had in his hands a fair land
value of $17.50 per acre for Crawfish Prairie land. Only ready cash
was needed to close the deal. The Federal Land Bank balked at the
appraised price and sent its appraiser who reassessed the land at
$25.00 per acre (October 17, 1938), however they later relented.
Delay appeared to be inevitable when on November 2, 1938
Attorney Ferry wrote (U. W. Archives) to Leopold:

“Mr. Kinyon is in receipt of advice from Federal Land Bank that
arrangement will be made to approve the acceptance of the $17.50
price per acre, upon his advice that such a sale has been definitely
arranged and closed. I believe no definite offer has been received
from the University. Will you kindly forward an offer in duplicate.

“In expressing your offer include a statement that the expense of
continuing the abstract and any incidental expense of releases,
conveyances, etc. must be paid by the seller. We will endeavor to
have those terms accepted by the Land Bank as coming out of the
sale price. It is obvious Mr. Kinyon would not particularly care to
turn the entire purchase price over to Land Bank and pay for the
abstracts, etc, himself.

32

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

“I believe your early attention to this matter is desirable as the
Land Bank has many transactions and the persons involved are apt
to forget about this very shortly”.

This was good news indeed for Leopold as he was fending off the
urgent thrust of an attorney who wanted to rid himself of a
bothersome transaction and a Federal Land Bank equally anxious
to close what was undoubtedly a “small potatoes” land sale. Leopold
replied (U. W. Archives):

“Dear Mr. Ferry:

“I am delighted to know that you and Mr. Kinyon have made the
prairie tract available at the appraised price.

“I think I have made it clear, but I should repeat, that the
University does not yet have this fund in the bank. However, I think
there is an excellent chance that it will become available in a few
weeks. I will keep you posted. «Yours sincerely,”

Again the few weeks was a forlorn hope. Apparently P. E. McNall
was the intermediary to sources of University funds and also
private funds as there were no records in the Department of
Wildlife Management files to indicate otherwise, or to assume that
Aldo Leopold was involved in fund raising.

In an undated longhand letter (U. W. Archives) by Leopold to P.
E. McNall that was either never sent, or was a copy of a letter that
was sent, or was the original letter returned to Leopold, the writer
pleads for news of financial support available from either the
University or private sources. It reads:

“Mr. Kenyon (sic) called on me yesterday. It appears he is rather
“out on a limb,” having induced the bank [Federal Land Bank] to
segregate the prairie tract, [so the purchaser could buy only that
which he needed] and now is confronted with an interest payment
Feb. 1 and taxes March 1. Do you have any news as to whether we
might have a chance to present this matter?” These guarded words
in the last line would seem to suppose that the financial
arrangements were either confidential or very tentative or both! To
whom this matter was to be presented is also a moot question. I
surmise it was to Mrs. Emmons Blaine.

At this point it becomes clear that an effort was being made by
McNall to encourage Mrs. Blaine to make a private contribution to
the University so that public purchase of the land could be made.

Meanwhile Mr. Ferry was becoming restive with just cause. He
minces no words in his November 9, 1938 letter (U. W. Archives) to
Leopold:

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

33

“May I urge upon you the fact that you are essentially dealing
with the Federal Land Bank, which is a very large organization
with many affairs. I believe it is of the utmost desirability that speed
in completion of this project be made a matter of the first order of
business in order that the parties to whom the various explanations
have been made will not have lost track of it, otherwise we may have
to begin all over again.”

But one more time fate intervened as stated in a letter (U. W.
Archives) to Mr. Ferry from Aldo Leopold (December 1, 1938).

“I regret to report that the prospective donor has been called to
California by illness, and we are accordingly unable to settle the
matter of funds for the land until her return, which is expected in a
couple of weeks. I am sorry to leave you out on a limb, but it is the
best I can do. The prospect of an actual donation still continues
excellent

“Needless to say I appreciate very much the pains you have taken
to arrange this matter and I shall press it to a decision as fast as I
possibly can.”

Mr. Ferry wrote again (U. W. Archives) on December 27 pleading
for definitive decision but leavened his reaction to Leopold (in part):

“Is there no way in which this matter can be completed within a
reasonable time, including a reasonable sum over and above the
appraised amount for taking care of the taxes which have accrued,
together with incidental expenses?” and further:

“I appreciate all the elements of the situation are not under your
control. I see no reason however why a definite result should not be
readied with reasonable promptness.”

This was the first time that Mr. Ferry's response did not imply
that the elements were under Leopold's control. Reasonable
promptness was not to be.

In the spring of 1939 Mr. Ferry, who had not been concerned with
the prospective donor of funds now suspected it was a person whom
he knew and he was mildly piqued that he was not brought into the
picture earlier. He wrote (U. W. Archives) to Mr. Leopold on April

17, 1939:

“The grape-vine telegraph recently brought to my attention a fact
which might have a bearing on the gift appertaining to the 107 acres
of the Crump farm [Kinyon farm]. The conclusion may be entirely
erroneous and is based on a good deal of deduction. It would seem
the parties making such a gift would either be persons devoted to
science or persons interested in the community. If persons

34

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

interested in the community are involved, and you will recollect the
donors have not been disclosed, it is probably [sic] there is only one
family in that neighborhood able and who might be interested in
making such a donation. This particular family might have
perfectly good reasons for not desiring to have any dealings with or
confer a benefit upon Mr. Kinyon.”
and closed with this:

“If the family [unmentioned] I refer to are involved in this
donation, it seems a bit strange they have not called upon me
personally and confidentially in regard to the matter. That,
however, would be for them to decide. This is only a suggestion and
is made for whatever it may be worth.”

This brought no disclosures from Leopold but he wrote (U. W.
Archives) rather sharply that to his knowledge personal differences
were not influencing the donors’ attitude. He replied on April 24 as
follows:

“The proposed donors are, I think, fully aware of Mr. Kinyon’s
status in the matter of the 107 acres, and as far as I know it has been
taken for granted all along that his [Kinyon] motives were entirely
beyond question. In fact, no one has at any time raised any question
of anybody’s motives. On the contrary, I have heard several
favorable comments that you and Mr. Kinyon have inconvenienced
yourselves personally to keep this thing open.”

Very likely Attorney Ferry could have acted as a general
representative to the benefit of all concerned, had he been asked. It
is here that all correspondence ends and I suspect that in spite of Mr.
Ferry’s “request and recommendations,” Mr. Kinyon sold his
holdings to a Mr. Ed Stockel sometime during the fall of 1939. The
sale to the University now hinged largely on Mr. Stockel, who had
set a rather substantial price on his newly acquired land. I was not
able to determine how substantial.

The epjiemeral donor, if indeed it was Mrs. Emmons Blaine, was
perhaps frightened off by a much larger request ($10,900) for
financial support presented to her in a letter (U. W. Archives) from
P. E. McNall dated February 9, 1939. The prairie purchase was
$1,900 of the request. In any event, no support came from that
quarter in 1940 or subsequently to my knowledge.

Another compounding factor was an effort by Aldo Leopold and
other members of the Arboretum Committee to purchase or lease
parts of the Hope Lake Bog and Wollin’s woods, both near Lake
Mills. Neither effort was realized, at least not in the 1940s. There

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

35

was at that time no Nature Conservancy or Audubon Chapter to
come to the rescue.

In another effort or in sheer desperation Leopold tried to interest
the Wisconsin Conservation Department (now DNR) in purchasing
two adjacent tracts as part of its wetlands acquisition program. A
letter (U. W. Archives) dated August 9, 1940 to Fred R.
Zimmerman in charge of the wetlands project, reads as follows (in
part):

“Dear Fred:

“I take it that the Faville Grove refuge is stalled by reason of the
price asked by Mr. Stockel.

“It occurs to me that you might break the deadlock by getting a
satisfactory option from Lynn Faville. This would include not only
the unpastured tract of prairie, but also his pasture lying just to the
south, a total of about 110 acres. This would include the well and
that part of the slough most valuable for reflooding. In effect, this
move would be shifting the refuge southward, and we would lose the
Stockel pasture but still make fair provision for wildflower
conservation on Lynn Faville’s meadow. Once we got this far, I
think Stockel would come down, for he has a heavy mortgage and I
think needs to reduce it.”

. . . and

“The Commission must know that there are few land deals which
go through satisfactorily at the first try.”

Apparently the conditions, the land or the price did not fall within
the directives concerning the wetland acquisition program. I found
no reply to the suggestion or any follow-up by Leopold. (I spoke with
Fred Zimmerman on May 8, 1976 and he recalled the request but
none of the details.) It was at this point in the spring of 1940 that I
became the student manager at the Faville Grove Wildlife Area, at
the time when a new effort was to begin on the floundering prairie
wildflower program.

Arthur S. Hawkins rekindled my interest in wildflowers,
particularly those of the prairie. At the time, he was a waterfowl
biologist for the Illinois Natural History Survey, but he returned to
Faville Grove as often as possible, since he was courting Elizabeth
Tillotson, granddaughter of S. W. Faville. (They were married on
the prairie in the summer of 1941.) On those occasions when he came
to Lake Mills we usually spent some time together on the prairie. In
the spring of 1940 the new owner ( Ed Stockel) of the coveted prairie
land announced that he intended to put cattle onto this remnant of

36

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts arid Letters [Vol. 66

virgin prairie. Although fully cognizant of what this meant to those
who tried so long and so hard to save the land, he now intended to use
it as pasture. He was adamant to any delay.

Leopold had not been idle. He interested Mr. Philip E. Miles, a
family friend from Madison, in the prairie preservation idea. Mr.
Miles and his wife agreed to purchase a part of the prairie as a
wildflower preserve, but it was too late. The long-sought-after piece
(107 acres) had just become pasture.

I had been able to get permission from Stockel (at Aldo Leopold’s
suggestion) to move clumps of small white lady’s slippers
( Cyperpedium candidum) from his pasture (Fig. 2). They were
transplanted in the north half of the adjacent tract owned by Lynn
Faville (nephew of S. W. Faville) as this parcel was the next target
for acquisition.

mmm &

Si®

Fig. 2 The small white lady slipper (Cypripedium candidum Muhl.) (Aldo
Leopold photo)

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

37

Fortunately he (Stockel) had only about 14 heifers in the 107 acre
pasture during the first summer. Thus, that year there was little
apparent damage to the lady’s slipper plants. Cattle use in
subsequent years proved devastating.

As student game manager on the Faville Grove Wildlife Area, it
became my responsibility (for reasons I do not know) to contact
Lynn Faville and ask if he was interested in selling the parcel in
question. I had never met Mr. Faville but found him to be a pleasant,
affable person and easy to communicate with. As I left his farm on
that summer afternoon, he had agreed to sell at a price below what
he “could have gotten elsewhere” if all preliminary and closing costs
were also assumed by the buyer. This information including the
asking price was relayed to Aldo Leopold, and thence to Mr. and
Mrs. Miles. As I recall, the price was $25 an acre, the price Mrs.
Miles (pers. comm. 1976) also remembers.

I was informed that Charles A. Rockwell, the Jefferson County
Surveyor, would do an official survey. I helped Mr. Rockwell in this
effort by holding the Jacob’s staff and was thus able to learn of
boundaries that heretofore had been vague. The area turned out to
be 58.3 acres instead of the 60 originally assumed. Mr. Miles paid
for this survey and, with Mrs. Miles, purchased the tract (ca March
1941).

Permission to move wildflowers from Stockel’s pasture to the
Lynn Faville tract across the fence to the south resulted in three
separate operations as follows:

(1) On May 12, 1941, Aldo Leopold, A. S. Hawkins and I dug
clumps of sod containing 50 small white lady’s slippers and
transported them, using an old door as the litter, to the extreme
northwest corner of the L. Faville 60 acres where they were planted
(Fig. 3).

(2) On May 15, 1941, Lyle K. Sowls and I transplanted 160 small
white lady’s slipper plants in sod clumps taken from and to the same
areas as above.

(3) On May 19, 1941, Aldo Leopold, I. O. Buss, A. S. Hawkins and I
moved 24 small white lady’s slipper plants from Stockel’s pasture to
the south side of L. Faville’s pasture where they were planted
opposite the artesian well located in the southernmost Faville
parcel.

Max Partch, now professor of botany at St. Cloud State College,
St. Cloud, Minnesota, conducted his doctoral research on the prairie
in 1949 working with J. T. Curtis. He mapped the vegetation on the

38

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Fig. 3 Arthur S. Hawkins (left) and the writer moving small white lady
slippers on the Crawfish prairie May 12, 1941. (Aldo Leopold photo)

Faville prairie preserve at that time and again, in 1976, mapped
and recorded plants on the same site. He states in a letter to me
(Aug. 1976) “And where are most of the white lady’s slippers? In the
NW corner just where you planted them in 1941.”

At the time these orchids were being moved, a rough census of
native lady’s slippers (small white) was made on the tract; the total
was 251 transplanted and 135 native on the new site.

On the day of our first transplant effort we talked of the rarer
white fringed orchis or prairie fringed orchid ( Habenaria
leucophaeci) that was also jeopardized by the proposed grazing.
They bloom late and so could not be recognized for moving at that
time. The cattle grazed them before a salvage attempt could be
made.

The small white lady’s slipper was the main object of concern at
that time, but the rarer fringed species was given center stage in

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

39

Leopold’s essay Exit Orchis (1940) that called attention to the plight
of all wildflowers competing with cattle for a place in the sun or in
the shade. It was this essay, which we discussed several times prior
to release, that made me acutely aware that Aldo Leopold was a man
of literature as well as a man of ecology. I began at that time to
collect his longhand writings that would otherwise have been
relegated to the wastepaper basket. These manuscripts collected
over the last eight years of his life are now prized possessions, and a
copy of the original Exit Orchis page 1 is shown here (Fig. 4). This,
however, was not the only writing by Aldo Leopold on the
culmination of a long, hard battle for prairie and posterity. There
was a slight barb in the news release dated March 20, 1941; it reads

as follows. Faville Prairie Preserve

“On May 15, 1940, cattle were turned to pasture on the Faville
prairie, long known to botanists as one of the largest and best
remnants of unplowed, ungrazed prairie sod left in Wisconsin. In it
grow the white ladyslipper, the white-fringed orchis, the prairie
clover, prairie fringed gentian, Indian plantain, Turk’s cap lily,
compass plant, blazing star, prairie dock, and other prairie
wildflowers which originally carpeted half of southern Wisconsin,
but most of which are now rare due to their inability to withstand
cow or plow.

“Thirty miles away a CCC camp on the University of Wisconsin
Arboretum has been busy for four years artificially replanting a
prairie in order that botany classes may know what a prairie looked
like, and what the word “prairie” signifies in Wisconsin history.

“Within the tract converted to pasture last year, the cattle
demolished the prairie vegetation within a single season; if any of it
was left, it was underground. By September the grazed area looked
like any other pasture.

“The loss of this tract, however, called public attention to the
question of preserving prairie vegetation. An adjacent tract,
containing 60 acres, and botanically almost as good as the lost
pasture, has now been purchased by Mr. and Mrs. Philip E. Miles of
Madison, for the express purpose of protecting its flora. Mr. and
Mrs. Miles are retaining the title to the land, but will allow the
University botanists to use it for research purposes.

“In preparation for this hoped-for floral preserve at Faville
Grove, the Botany Department and the Department of Wildlife
Management of the University have, during the last three years,
mapped the location of the surviving colonies of rare flowers, and

40

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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m

4 1

Fig. 4 The longhand manuscript of “Exit Orchis”, page one. It was
Leopold’s reaction to a shameful defeat in conservation and one over which
money, not reason or right, had control. (U. W. Photo Lab)

each spring have counted the blooms. It is now proposed to
experiment, on a ten acre fraction of the 60 acre preserve, to see
whether burning and mowing causes the colonies to expand or

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

41

contract. It is already known that with the possible exception of
ladies’ tresses, all the rarer species succumb to pasturing. That is
why they are rare. Few of them succumb to mowing, hence the past
use of the Faville prairie as haymeadow has not greatly injured its
flora.

“John Muir, who grew up amid the prairie flowers in Columbia
County, foresaw their impending disappearance from the Wiscon¬
sin landscape. In about 1865 he offered to buy from his brother a
small part of the meadow of the family homestead, to be fenced and
set aside as a floral sanctuary. H is offer was refused. This, insofar as
I know, was the first attempt to establish a wildflower preserve in
Wisconsin. The number of such preserves, either public or private,
is still so small that many interesting species are in danger of
disappearing for lack of a protected place to survive in.

“The first successful attempt to establish a wildflower preserve in
Wisconsin was the Ridges Sanctuary near Bailey’s Harbor in Door
County. This area was purchased by a group of local landowners,
and now offers safe habitat for several bog orchids, lake iris, and
arctic primrose.

“The Faville Prairie is Wisconsin’s second floral preserve. A
system of fifty similar preserves, scattered over the entire state,
would constitute adequate insurance that Wisconsin will suffer no
more needless losses from her list of native plants.”

I do not know if this piece was ever reduced to printer’s ink.

About June 22, 1941, Mr. and Mrs. Aldo Leopold and Mr. and
Mrs. Miles and I visited the prairie with Gordon MacQuarrie,
reporter, and George Shershell, photographer, for the Milwaukee
Journal. The resulting article appeared in the Sunday edition of the
Milwaukee Journal, June 29, 1941 (Fig. 5). I think this was the first
time the Miles’s had seen the prairie and the tract they had just
purchased. It was a beautiful day. The prairie responded with its
best in blossoms for the month of June and the upland plovers’ song
was the crowning voice in a chorus of bird songs. It was a prairie
“thank you” to the Miles.

The deed to the prairie tract was transferred to the U ni versity in
1945. The transfer was not a perfunctory gift of real estate; rather it
established a preserve in honor of Stoughton W. Faville. Mr. and
Mrs. Miles had planned well; part of the deed transfer (U. W.
Archives) reads as follows;

“The lands herein conveyed shall until the grantee shall otherwise
direct, be known as “Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve.”

42

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Fig. 5 Stoughton Willis Faville (1852-1951) taken at the Faville Homestead
farm 1941. (Milwaukee Journal photo)

“The grantee shall designate and preserve all the rest and
remainder of the lands herein conveyed for the continuance and the
propagation of native or indigenous prairie wild life, and shall make
reasonable and proper efforts to eliminate or prevent the coming of
intrusive or exotic vegetable growth.” The primary aspect of the

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

43

quit-claim deed was the dedication of the land to S. W. Faville.
Although the term “prairie wildlife” is repeated several times, it is
meant to convey both plants and animals.

For Mr. Faville it was an honor he accepted in his shy and humble
way and, although he was not a demonstrative man, I know that he
was immensely pleased. He and I visited the prairie several times
during that first spring and summer and also in years afterward.
On one such occasion I took his picture, a copy of which was sent to
his granddaughter, Elizabeth T. Hawkins. Part of her letter (U. W.
Archives) in reply follows:

“Dear Mack,

“We are so glad to have the picture of Grandpa on the prairie. I
know just how that was for him. I can see how pleased he was to have
you take him, and I can hear you laughing.

“Imagine how many happy prairie memories he must have had!
When he was a boy he heard his father and brothers tell about that
wonderful, tall prairie grass that helped decide them about settling
there. On clear spring mornings with no traffic in the distance they
could hear the prairie chickens from their booming grounds. And
later in the summer he could go out there to see the lady’s slippers,
other orchids, turks caps, star grass, compass plant and prairie
clover, golden rod, shooting stars. I bet he never forgot how sweet it
smelled, but he never mentioned things like that much. As far back
as I can remember Papa used to come back from a day planting corn
(“up on the river”) to announce that the plovers were back. We all
looked for that news, and after Art came when we became date¬
conscious, we expected to see them on my birthday (April 14). Back
in 1935 or ’36 when Art and Bandy [Hilbert R. Siegler-student] built
a blind on the booming ground we were all so excited and after all
those years actually got out there to watch them. We’d leave before
sun-up (sometimes Mother would come) and get home for a late
breakfast.

“Sometimes late in the afternoon we’d watch the short eared owls
from a hay stack. We used to squeak them in and they’d make pass
after pass, turning their anxious faces back and forth, this way and
that, gazing down at us til they gave up and went hunting
elsewhere. It was fun to watch their wing clapping in the spring,
and hear the jack snipe winnowing . . . Your picture shows the end
of that era. I’m glad we had a chance to live in it. Grandpa’s death
just before his 99th birthday marked the end.”

It did indeed mark the end of that era and I, too, am glad to have
lived in it. Living with the Tillotson family and Grandpa Faville

44

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

during my field assignment as a graduate student was and is a
cherished experience even now. The memories are indelible and the
educational aspects unforgettable. Perhaps the acme of my sense of
belonging to this time and place and with these wonderful people
occurred when I, too, was “allowed” to call Mr. Faville “Grandpa”.
Fm proud to say we liked each other from the first meeting. S. W.
Faville was a man whom it would be extremely difficult not to like.
He was, by his admission, of God-fearing Yankee stock.

The Faville family came from Herkimer County, New York. S.
W. Faville’s father Alpheus came to the 120-acre homestead north
of Lake Mills in 1844. It was here that Stoughton was born on
February 12, 1852. He attended both district school and Lawrence
College, and returned to the farm where, in 1882, he purchased the
first herd of purebred Holstein-Friesian cattle in Jefferson County
and increased his land holdings to 400 acres. He devoted his active
life as a farmer to the development of his herd and promoting the
virtues of this fine breed of dairy cattle. Conservation practices
came naturally to this man. His woodlot was not pastured nor his
wetlands drained. Collecting Indian relics was one of his hobbies.
He told me of experiences with Indians traveling on foot from
Hubbelton to Lake Mills where they had to pass his home en route.
All aspects of the out-of-doors interested him.

Plants of all kinds challenged his curiosity, but wildflowers were
his favorites. We tend to think of John Muir as the champion of the
wildflower conservation movement, and he was, but on a local level
S. W. Faville was of equal stature. Neighbors, friends, naturalists
and University botanists came to see his small wildflower garden
and to explore his woodlot for wildflowers. So keen were his
observations that he discovered a hybrid orchid that was a cross
between the large yellow lady’s slipper and the small white lady’s
slipper (Cypripedium candidum x Cypripedium pubescens) . It was
described botanically by John T Curtis and named Cypripedium
Favilliccnum, Faville’s lady’s slipper; It is now recognized as a valid
hybrid. The type specimen grew in his garden for many years. It
was transplanted into the University Arboretum at Madison about
1944. If he had accepted all the offers of wildflowers for his
wildflower garden, his yard and garden would have been filled to
overflowing. He always wanted to add the butterfly weed (Asclepias
tuberosa), to his collection. I brought him healthy plants on two
occasions but both efforts to establish the plant were unsuccessful.
We both knew the site and soil were ecologically wrong, so failure
came as no shock.

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

45

This Lincolnesque man, born on February 12, was the community
patriarch whose advice and counsel were always available on
matters where he held knowledge or expertise. Grandpa was a man
of temperance and moderation and possessed all, or almost all, the
endearing human virtues.

In 1927 the College of Agriculture saw fit to present him with a
citation as one of Wisconsin’s outstanding farmers. The citation (U.
W. College of Agricultural and Life Sciences) reads in part:

“S. W. Faville

“Has helped to lead his neighborhood along the lines of better
farming specializing in improving dairy stock.

“As a community builder especially in social and religious circles,
his influence has always been on the side of vigorous advancement.

“Rarely does one meet a more sympathetic attitude for the finer
things in nature than is to be found in Mr. Faville.” By 1939, when I
first met Mr. Faville these words were already understatements of
his relationship with farming, dairy husbandry and the social
community in which he lived.

All the players in this historical drama in wildflower conserva¬
tion, from the leading roles to bit players like myself, felt satisfied
and warmly rewarded to know that at least a part of the unspoiled
Crawfish Prairie would be preserved and that it was named in
honor of so worthy a person.

Stoughton Willis Faville enhanced the lives of those he touched;
for me it was a ‘laying on’ of hands.

* * * *

The story could well have ended here, but for the fact that Lynn
Faville was ready in 1942 to sell his 60-acre holding south of and
adjacent to the Miles parcel, about a year after the initial sale was
completed. Several persons from the Lake Mills area were
interested in purchasing it. Again Aldo Leopold attempted to
interest Mr. Miles in extending his recently-acquired tract. Mr.
Miles asked what had been done to begin wildflower research
suggested in previous plans and news releases (U. W. Archives). In
reply it was noted that U. W. botanists were inclined to defer
activity until the land became University property as it was still in
Mr. and Mrs. Miles’ name. While this impasse was being reconciled,
two men from Lake Mills bought the second prairie piece with its
oak opening above a flowing artesian well. They ditched the lower
end to create a duck marsh and planted the upper half to corn, thus
destroying the prairie tract.

46

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

One may wonder whether ducks in the bag or corn in the crib have
held a higher social or democratic value than does a remnant of
virgin prairie. The economic benefits doubtless favor the
developers. Our laws, courts, history and traditions allow the
owners of land to deny integrity to the soil, plants and animals
which are part of the owning. We even fail to imply or demand
custodial responsibility for those privileged to own a part of our
country. It is little wonder then that today with increased
knowledge and technical sophistication we allow even small
remnants of unspoiled natural areas to slip from the public grasp in
futile attempts to pit esthetic, educational and other social benefits
against individual monetary gain.

There was yet another chance to increase the land area held by the
University of Wisconsin as the Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve,
but it did not occur until almost 20 years later. S. W. Faville’s
grandson, David Tillotson, a teacher and conservationist, purchas¬
ed his sisters’ share in the farm and now lives with his family at the
Faville Homestead. About 1958 he, with a group from the
Milwaukee Audubon Society, solicited funds from many in¬
dividuals throughout Wisconsin to purchase land adjacent to the
Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve.

It was not an easy chore but the funds were raised and land on the
west and north sides of the preserve plus a pie-shaped piece along
the Crawfish River increased the preserve by 35 acres.

In September 1976 this parcel was offered to the University by
the Audubon Wild Land Foundation of Milwaukee. It was accepted
by the Board of Regents on September 17, 1976 and is now part of
the 92 acre Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve (Fig. 6). Ad¬
ministration and maintenance rest with the University Arboretum
committee and staff.

The past record of the University in managing the Stoughton
Faville Prairie Preserve has not been exemplary. At the time when
the Miles transferred their property to the University, Aldo
Leopold composed the following letter for Philip Miles’ signature.

“I recently purchased a 60 acre remnant of virgin prairie near
Faville Grove, Lake Mills, Jefferson County, for the purpose of
ensuring the preservation of its prairie flora. Your botanists have
been studying the tract, and have found on it some dozens of species
of prairie wildflowers, grasses, and shrubs, some of which are
becoming rare. Among these are the small white ladyslipper and
the white-fringed orchis.

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

47

FAVILLE PRAIRIE 1976

T

n

H

| I TRAIL
I IMPARKING

SEDGE MEADOW & WILLOW
WET - MESIC PRAIRIE

o ■ ■

<C ||

o

JcS CANARY GRASS

II

SHRUB - CARR WITH SEDGE

II

SCALE r* - 660'

660

1320

19 80

II

=□

2 640

Fig. 6 The Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve 1976.

4 W f:

48

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

“In my opinion the University Arboretum is the proper custodian
for floral reservations of this kind. I am willing to deed this tract to
the University, should you wish it, with the understanding that:

( 1) It will be preserved as a wildflower refuge, preferably as a
substation of the Arboretum.

(2) It will not be used as a tourist attraction, or for any other
purpose which might endanger the preservation of its flora.

“Yours sincerely,”

The note on this letter in Leopold’s handwriting reads — “not
sent”. I do not know why it was not sent. There is no record to
indicate what was requested of the University apart from the
wording in the quit-claim deed.

The University Aboretum committee was given custodial charge.
In the years between 1945 and 1976 the care necessary to maintain
this prairie remnant was sporadic at best, due in part to lack of
interest but primarily to heavy demands on the Arboretum crew in
Madison. Part of the wording in the quit-claim deed delineating the
University’s responsibility reads: “ . . . and shall make reasonable
and proper efforts to eliminate or prevent the coming of intrusive or
exotic vegetable growth.” The intrusive vegetable growth was (and
is) composed of woody plants.

A. S. Hawkins (pers. comm.) writes that he was “ . . . shocked by
the invasion of woody plants which if left unchecked, threatens to
eliminate this remnant of a prairie.” He adds “It’s rather tragic to
realize that it was saved from its enemies only to be destroyed by its
friends, through lack of proper care.”

The current Arboretum administration has taken renewed
interest in the Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve, but it will take
time and financial support to rectify past neglect. The University
Arboretum has always functioned on a minimal, if not inadequate
budget; nonetheless, remedial efforts are required legally through a
reversion clause in the quit-claim deed. The program of restoration
begun in 1976 will be continued until the “intrusive or exotic
vegetable growth” is eliminated (R. S. Ellarson, Chairman, UW
Arboretum Committee, pers. comm. 1977).

* * * *

In his excellent wildlife history of F aville Grove, Hawkins (Trans.
Wis. Acad. Sciences, Arts and Letters, 1940, 32:29-65), states that
prairie (low) “has receded much less, under clean farming than

1978]

McCabe — Stoughton Faville Prairie Preserve

49

have oak openings.” The main use of the prairie by its farmer
owners was for marsh hay in years when tame hay was limited
by . . . dry conditions. Wet years rendered the prairie unsuited even
for haying. Hawkins’ conclusion was . . . “Result: a sizable remnant
of the low prairie still exists”. Nowhere is the spectre of prairie
drainage mentioned but drainage came in the press for farm
production during World War II. In the prewar period of the great
depression it was not financially feasible to drain or the agricultural
gamble on drainage was too great. Wartime economy intervened.
The handy work of drainage rigs siphoned the life blood of low
prairies and wetlands to render them fit for the plow. Today only 85
of the original 1800 acres of the Crawfish Prairie remain intact in a
matrix of corn, grain, tame hay, and pasture.

* * * *

Written on the wind that ripples its way across this botanical relic
is this: that we, as the people, fail either to look back or to look
forward in our responsibility as custodians of our land; that the
tortuous effort to preserve this original prairie kindled the prairie
preservation concept, certainly for Wisconsin, and perhaps the
Midwest; and lastly that this piece of prairie and the meaning it
conveys to our heritage is properly dedicated to a man who looked
back and saw the future. Stoughton W. Faville.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In the course of data gathering and manuscript preparation I had
aid from several sources. For helpful suggestions and constructive
criticism grateful appreciation is given to Arthur S. and Bettie T.
Hawkins, David Tillotson, and Max Partch. Mrs. Philip Miles
provided information on the initial land purchase. Thanks also to
my student assistant, Kay Mullins, for checking plant names and
Jim Liebig, University archivist, for the unencumbered use of
source material. Special thanks to my wife, Marie, who shared some
of the field experiences with me and who gave editorial counsel.

LATE PLEISTOCENE (WISCONSINAN) CARIBOU
FROM SOUTHEASTERN WISCONSIN

Robert M. West

Milwaukee Public Museum

ABSTRACT

Two specimens of caribou (Rangifer taran-
dus ) antlers extend the late Pleistocene
range of that species to southeastern
Wisconsin.

S)< Hi # 5j«

Specimens of caribou, Rangifer .tarandus, have been reported
from the late Pleistocene of Michigan (Dorr and Eschman, 1970),
Illinois (Bader and Techter, 1959), Iowa (Frankforter, 1971), and
Minnesota (Hay, 1923a), as well as numerous other localities in the
eastern United States (Guilday, Hamilton and Parmalee, 1975). The
only reported Wisconsin occurrences are from fire clays near
Menomonie in Dunn County, presumed by Hay (1923b) to be of late
Illinoian Age. Antler specimens from two previously unrecorded
localities now confirm the expected presence of this species in the
late Pleistocene of southeastern Wisconsin. Both specimens are in
the vertebrate paleontology collection of the Department of
Geology, Milwaukee Public Museum.

The best diagnostic material, MPM VP 858 (Fig. 1), is composed
of three unconnected fragments of at least two right antlers. They
are slender in comparison with antlers of the modern barren
ground caribou, the more gracile of the living North American
subspecies. The beams are oval in cross-section. Both brow and bez
tines are well developed, and the brow tine is noticeably palmate.
All three fragments are intensively water-worn, and the broken
surfaces are also abraded, suggesting considerable pre-burial
transportation.

50

1978]

West — Late Pleistocene (Wisconsinan) Caribou

51

Figure 1. MPM VP 858, fragmentary right antlers. The longest fragment is 79 cm in
length.

The second eastern Wisconsin caribou (MPM VP 902) is a
fragmentary left antler of a much larger animal than those
represented by MPM VP 858. The brow tine is missing, lost prior to
burial; the broken surface is large, suggesting that it was well
developed. The antler, which has an oval cross-section, is, com¬
parable in size with the larger barren ground caribou specimens in
the collection of the Department of Vertebrate Zoology at the
Milwaukee Public Museum.

The specimens comprising MPM VP 858 were found in June,
1943, in a peat deposit near Wauwatosa in the Menomonee River
valley a few miles west of Milwaukee. When the specimens were
recently found in the collection precise locality data were not with
them. Probably the area of the occurrence was the NW% of T7N,
R21E, Milwaukee County, Wisconsin. By the time the writer
examined the specimens all adhering matrix had been removed.
However, surficial sediments in the probable area of occurrence
were late Wisconsinan in age (Hough, 1958), and compatible in age
with other, much better documented, Rangifer tarandus finds. The
isolated specimen, MPM VP 902, was eroded from a bluff along the
shore of Lake Michigan east of Oostburg (approximately sec. 4,
T13E, R23E, Sheboygan County, Wisconsin) during the summer of
1963. The precise circumstances of this discovery are also unclear;
the bluff is composed of lacustrine sediments equated to the late
Wisconsinan late Glenwood Stage of Lake Chicago, and to till of the
upper Wedron Formation (12,500-13,000 years BP: late Woodfor-
dian) (E vanson et al, 1976), and to the peat from which MPM VP 858
was collected.

52

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Four living subspecies of North American caribou presently are
recognized (Banfield, 1974). The most southerly is the woodland
caribou (R. t. caribou), which now ranges south to the north side of
Lake Superior, and which occurred with some frequency in
northern Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan in historic times
(Cory, 1912; Burt, 1946; Bergerud, 1974). There is no historic record
of its occurrence south of about 45° north. Three barren ground
subspecies (R. t. groenlandirus, R. t. pearyi, and R. t. granti range
far to the north into the Arctic tundra, and are physically smaller
than R . t. caribou.

Subspecific distinctions based only on antlers are difficult
(Bubenik, 1975). Barren ground caribou antlers tend to be smaller,
less palmate, and more oval to round in cross-section than those of
woodland caribou, but there is extensive overlap. Clearly, the MPM
specimens belong to R. tarandus. On the basis of the rounded cross-
section of the beams, they are tentatively assigned to R. t
groenlandicus, despite the relatively large size of MPM VP 902.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Mr. Walter Bubbert of Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, recovered and
donated MPM VP 858, and Ms. Julie Te Ronde of Oostburg,
Wisconsin, recovered and donated MPM VP 902. The illustration
was prepared by the Photography Department, Milwaukee Public
Museum. Dr. Holmes A. Semken, University of Iowa, offered
comments which greatly improved the manuscript.

1978]

West — Late Pleistocene (Wisconsinan) Caribou

53

LITERATURE CITED

Bader, R. S., and D. Techter. 1959. A list and bibliography of the fossil mammals of
Illinois. Natural History Miscellanea, Chicago Academy of Sciences, 172:8 p.
Banfield, A.W.F. 1974. The mammals of Canada. Univ. Toronto Press. Toronto.
438 p.

Bergerud, A. T. 1974. Decline of caribou in North America following settlement. J.
Wildl. Manage. 38:757=770.

Bubenik, A.B. 1975. Taxonomic value of antlers in genus Rangifer. Biol. Papers
Univ. Alaska, Spec. Rep. 1:41-63.

Burt, W. H. 1946. The mammals of Michigan. Univ. Mich. Press, Ann Arbor. 288 p.
Cory, C. B. 1912. The mammals of Illinois and Wisconsin. Field Mus. Nat. Hist., Zool.
Ser., 9:1=502.

Dorr, J. A., and D. F. Eschman. 1970. Geology of Michigan. Univ. Mich. Press, Ann
Arbor. 476 b-

Evenson, E. B., W. R. Farrand, D. F. Eschman, D. M. Mickelson, and L. J. Maher.
1976. Greatlakean substage: a replacement for Valderan Substage in the Lake
Michigan Basin. Quat. Res. 6:411-424.

Frankforter, W. D. 1971. The Turin local fauna, evidence for the medial Pleistocene
age of the original “Aftonian” vertebrate fauna in western Iowa. Proc. Neb.
Acad. Sci. and Affil. Soc., 81st Ann. Meeting: 48-49.

Guilday. J. E., H. W. Hamilton and P. W. Parmalee. 1975. Caribour ( Rangifer
tarandus L.) from the Pleistocene of Tennessee. J. Tenn. Acad. Sci. 50 (3):109-
112.

Hay, 0. P. 1923a. Description of remains of Bison occidentalis from central
Minnesota. Proc. U. S. Nat. Mus., 63:1-8.

Hay, 0. P. 1923b. The Pleistocene of North America and its vertebrate animals from
the states east of the Mississippi River and from the Canadian provinces east of
longitude 95°. Carnegie Inst. Wash. Publ. 322:499 p.

Hough, J. L. 1958. Geology of the Great Lakes. Univ. Ill. Press, Urbana. 313 p.

AN ORDINATION OF TERRICOLOUS AND
SAXICOLOUS BRYOPHYTES AT CACTUS
ROCK, WAUPACA COUNTY, WISCONSIN

Randall J. Fritz,

Lynn M. Libera,
and

Nicholas C. Maravolo

Lawrence University, Appleton

ABSTRACT

K

three-dimensional ordination of 100
stands of terricolous bryophytes found on
Cactus Rock, Waupaca County, Wisconsin,
is established. The sampling procedure was based on a point-
quadrat method; the analysis, on percent cover and index of
similarity. Several environmental parameters were quantitatively
measured at each stand and were then related to the ordination.
Polytrichum juniperinum was dominant in stands which had
thinner soil cover, less acidic soil, and higher light intensity than
those stands in which P. commune was dominant. Thuidium
delicatulum was found in shady stands with very thin soil cover;
Ceratodon purpureus , on gentle rock slopes receiving intermediate
levels of sunlight; Hedwigia dliata, on shady rock slopes; and
Grimmia apocarpa , on sunny rock slopes.

INTRODUCTION

Cactus Rock is a granitic outcropping surrounded on all sides by
alluvial sand. Itislocated in Waupaca County, 1.61 km south of New
London. The Rock extends approximately 500 m northwest of Bean
City Road and rises 30 m above the pavement. Several prominent
glacial features characterize it, including striae, polish, chatter
marks, and pronounced truncations in several locations on the top of
the outcrop. The south slope has many large, separated boulders
resulting from the plucking action of the overriding ice sheets. The
north slope has few such boulders. As a result, the south slope has
more crevices where humus can accumulate and foster a greater

54

1978]

Fritz, Libera and Maravolo — Cactus Rock

55

diversity of habitats, but such soil accumulation is otherwise
generally distributed.

The vascular vegetation at Cactus Rock varies from aspen on the
north to pine-oak on the rock and mixed oak-hickory on the south.
The base of the north slope is dominated by Populus tremuloides, P.
grandidentata, and Acer rubrum, but the overstory also includes
Tilia americana, Quercus velutina, Q. alba, Carya ovata, and
Prunus serotina. Scattered patches of Diervilla lonicera, Vac-
cinium angustifolium, Toxicodendron radicans, Amelanchier
laevis, Aralianudicaulis, Polygonatumbiflorum, P. canaliculatum,
Maianthemum canadense, Geranium maculatum, Mitchella repens,
Osmorhiza claytoni, Anemone quinquefolia , Carex pennsylvanica,
and Galium triflorum constitute the ground cover. This community
ascends about 7.75 m up the slope and extends westward from the
road about 250 m. On the upper slope and on the rock Juniperus
virginiana, Pinus banksiana P. strobus and Quercus velutina
predominate. The substory is occupied by Zanthoxylum
americanum, Juniperus communis, Prunus serotina, Vaccinium
angustifolium, and Rhus typhina, and the herbaceous layer includes
Viola sagittata, V. pedata, Heuchera richardsonii, Amorpha
canescens, Aristida basiramea, Agrostis hyemalis, Panicum im-
plicatum, P. capillar e, Scleria verticillata, Carex bicknellii, C.
pennsylvanica, Ranunculus fascicularis, Talinum rugospermum,
Veronica per egrina, Potentilla arguta, and Senecio aureus. Many of
these species frequent the entire crest of the rock where An-
dropogon gerardi, A. scoparius, Melampyrum linear e, Opuntia
fragilis, Corydalis sempervirens, Hypoxis hirsuta, Aquilegia
canadensis, Cheilanthes tomentosa and Selaginella rupestris also
appear. The western end of the rock is occupied by a small Pinus
strobus stand and associated scattered colonies of Michella repens,
Maianthemum canadense, Trientalis borealis, and Vaccinium
angustifolium. The soil at the base of the southern slope is sandy,
with considerable humus accumulation near the rock. This area
receives considerable runoff and radiation and supports a dense
vegetation. The lower slope and the base of the rock are dominated
by Quercus velutina, Q. alba, Acer rubrum and Carya ovata. Patches
of Corylus cornuta, Rubus sp. Rosa sp. and Rhus typina are common.
Carex pennsylvanica and Agropyrum repens dominate the ground
layer, but associated are many of the herbaceous species previously
mentioned as well as ruderals such as Verbascum thapsus, Achillea
millefolium and Rumex acetosella. White tail deer (Odocoileus

56

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Voh 66

virginianus) are present as indicated by numerous browsed twigs;
other mamalian species frequenting and inhabiting the area
include Marmota monox , Peromyscus maniculatus, Microtus
pennsylvanicus, Tamias striatus , Citellus tridecemlineatus, Procyon
lotor, Didelphis marsupialis , Erethizon dorsatum, Vulpes fulva,
and Sylvilagus fioridanus.

Lichens and bryophytes were present throughout, but were
especially important where exposure, inclination, and rock texture
inhibited the development of vascular communities. The vitality
and diversity of these cryptogamic communities subtly reflected
the interaction of the prevailing environmental factors and
suggested that ordination might provide fruitful insights into their
ecological relationships.

Beals (1965) employed ordination to analyze the corticulous
cryptogamic communities in south-central Wisconsin. Foote (1966)
used this technique on bryophytes associated with limestone
outcrops in Southwestern Wisconsin, and related the vegetational
continuum to a moisture gradient. Lechowicz and Adams (1974)
prepared a similar study of the lichen-moss ground- layer com¬
munities in Ontario and Wisconsin to assess the comparative
autecology of Cladonia. Our study utilizes a three-dimensional
ordination of terricolous bryophytes at Cactus Rock to examine
autecological relationships.

PROCEDURE

A point-quadrat method was used in sampling the stands. Stand
size and the number of points to be used for each stand were
determined by a species-area curve and a species-point curve,
respectively. Use of the species-area curve permits reasonably
objective determination of the smallest (minimal) area on which
community species composition may be adequately represented
(Mueller-Dombois, 1974).

Twenty stands chosen in a stratified random fashion were used to
determine the species-area curve. We attempted to include in the
assortment, stands which would represent the general types
present within the study site. In each stand, a series of eleven
concentric squares was laid out and the species present in each
square were tabulated. The first square was 2x2 cm (4 cm2) and the
bryophyte species present in this area were counted. Next, the
species present in a 3 x 3 cm (9 cm2) square were counted, and the

1978]

Fritz , Libera and Maravolo — Cactus Rock

57

square size was increased to 4 x 4 cm (16 cm2). In this way, the plot
size was approximately doubled ten times, resulting finally in a 61 x
61 cm (3721 cm2) square. As the square size increased, the number
of new species encountered within the square decreased. The
average number of species found at each of the twenty locations was
calculated for each of the square sizes. A species-area curve was
then constructed by plotting these eleven average species numbers
against the eleven area sizes. The area to be chosen for the stand
sampling was required to include 95% of the average number of
species present in the largest square. The 95%-inclusion point on our
species-area curve had an abscissa of 2700 cm2. At this point, the
curve was still approaching an asymptote, so to better ensure the
presence of at least 95% of the species, a sample area of 3025 cm2 (55
x 55 cm) was chosen.

To determine the species-point curve, twenty stands (3025 cm2)
were again chosen randomly. At each stand, 25 points were plotted
in * a designated order. A wooden frame with cross strings
intersecting at the 25 points was used. The first point was located in
the center of the 55 x 55 cm square. The second, third, fourth, and
fifth points were located in the four distant corners of the square.
The sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth points were located at the mid¬
point of the center of the square (point 1) and each of the four
corners. The remaining points were similarly located approximate¬
ly equidistant from each other. The same pattern of points was
consistently used from stand to stand. After placement of each
point, the presence or absence of a new species was noted. The
average number of new species encountered at each of the 20 stands
was calculated for the first point and for each succeeding group of
four points.

The average number of new species encountered was plotted
against the point number (1-25) to establish the species-point curve.
The species-point curve approached zero through the use of only 25
points. Thus, any number of points greater than 25 should increase
sampling accuracy. One hundred points were finally used to
provide a more than adequate number of points and yet not to be so
large a number as to hinder the sampling process.

The appartus used in the point-analysis of the 100 stands was
designed with the above stand-size and point-number criteria in
mind. It consisted of a wooden frame with strings tied across in both
directions such that the intersections of the strings designated 100
points equally spaced over a 55 x 55 cm area. The columns of the

58

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

grid were labelled “A” through “J” and the rows were labelled “1”
through “10” such that the point in the upper left corner was “Al”
and the point in the lower right was “J10.”

One hundred stands were selected employing the following
criteria:

1) Stands must include terricolous bryophytes.

2) Stands should be in relatively homogeneous environments.

To sample a stand, the wooden frame was placed on the ground
and the presence of a species or the substrate (where no species
occurred) was recorded for each of the 100 points. Percent cover for
each species in a stand was then tabulated by counting the number
of points at which the particular species had been encountered.

The angle of inclination was determined by handing a string from
a levelled meter stick (one end touching the uphill, uppermost
string row of the frame, the other end jutting into space) to the row
string farthest downhill. A right triangle was formed, and, since the
length of the hypotenuse (distance from A to J; 55 cm) and the length
of the leg opposite the angle of inclination were both known, the
angle could be calculated as sinA = a/h.

Light measurements were made at each stand with a light meter.
Readings were made on three different days. The first readings
were made between 9:00 and 11:10 A.M. on an overcast day. The
second, between 11:50 A.M. and 1:20 P.M. on a clear day. The third,
between 3:05 and 4:35 P.M. on a clear day. The three light readings
for each stand were totaled to provide a relative representation of
sunlight received during the course of the day.

The direction of inclination was found with a compass. The soil
depth was approximated at each stand by inserting a 15 cm probe
into the soil in several places, measuring the depth, and recording
an apparent minimum and maximum depth. If the probe became
completely submerged in the soil, a reading of over 15 cm was
recorded. Soil moisture was determined by drying soil samples for
65 hr at 115 C. The ratio of the dry weight of the soil to the wet
weight of the soil was calculated, multiplied by 100, and subtracted
from 100 percent. Soil pH was determined on previously dried soil
samples wetted with 4 parts distilled water.

After determining the percent cover of each species for each
stand (Table 1), index of similarity (IS) values were calculated. The
IS values were based on 2w/a + b, an index previously used by
Culberson (1955a) on lichen communities. The IS values ranged

1978]

Fritz, Libera and Mar avolo— Cactus Rock

59

from complete similarity between two stands (1.00) to complete
dissimilarity (0.00).

A three-dimensional ordination was constructed. Two dissimilar
stands were selected as endpoints, or reference stands, for the axis.
All reference stands were required to have at least twelve similarity
indices greater than fifty percent (0.50) following a modification of
a criterion used by Swan and Dix (1966) and Newsome and Dix
(1968). Of those stands meeting the above criterion, stand 24 had the
lowest sum of similarity indices and was thus most dissimilar to the
other stands. The second reference stand should be that stand most
dissimilar to stand 24, but 44 stands showed complete dissimilarity
with 24 (37 of these met the above criterion), so 24 was discarded as
an impractical candidate. Similar difficulties also resulted in
discarding four other candidates. Stand 7, an eligible stand having
the sixth lowest sum of similarity indices, was finally chosen as the
first reference stand (A) for the x axis. The stand most dissimilar to
7 (and still meeting the above criterion) was 68 (B). The index of
similarity of 7 and 68 was 0.06; the dissimilarity of these two stands
100 — 0.06 = 0.94, was the length (L) of the axis. The stands were
then located between these two endpoints according to Beals’
formula, x = (L2 + (dA)2 — (dB)2)/2L, where dA is the dissimilarity
from stand B, L is the length of the axis, and x is the location of the
given stand on the x axis.

Construction of the second dimension, or y axis, required a
reference stand (A') which was poorly fitted to the x axis. This fit
was determined by “e” and was calculated e2 = (dA)2 - x2. The stand
(must meet previous criterion) with the highest e2 value was 32.
Newsome and Dix (1968) required stand A' to lie within the mid-
50% range of the first axis. Stand 32 satisfied this criterion. The
second reference stand should be most dissimilar to 32, but should
lie near 32 on the x axis to approximate a perpendicular y axis (limit
used was within 10% of x axis length). Four stands became
candidates and 94, the one most dissimilar to 32, became the second
reference stand (B'). The y axis length was 0.84, the dissimilarity
between 32 and 94. Locations on the y axis were found similarly to
those on the x axis, according to y = ((L')2 + (dA')2 - (dB')2)/2L'.

Expansion into a third dimension, a z axis, required a reference
stand most poorly fitted to both previously constructed axes. The
highest sum of e x 2 + e y 2 indicated the poorest fit. The first
reference stand, A", should also lie within the mid-50% range of both
the x and y axes. The only two candidate stands were 46 and 73.

60

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Stand 46 was chosen as the first reference stand (A") since it had a
higher e x 2 + e y 2 sum. The second reference stand (B") should be
the stand most dissimilar to 46. Sixteen stands had complete
dissimilarity with 46, but only one of these (24) met the criterion of
having at least 12 IS values greater than 0.50. Stand 24 was thus
chosen as reference stand B", and the z axis length was 1.00.
Location of the stands again followed Beals’ formula, z = ((L")2 +
(dA")2 - (dB")2)/2L".

Ordination values were plotted to present a three-dimensional
description of the similarity of the stands and their respective
environmental characteristics.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

The ordination has been represented by the xy and xz planes,
respectively. It established distribution patterns and simplified
interpretation of those patterns. The species composition data
identified stands on the basis of species dominance and presence.
Dominance, as used here, refers to the species which displayed the
highest percent-cover value in the stand, and does not imply further
ecological relationships. A species was considered to be present in a
stand if it appeared on at least one point in that stand (Table 1).
Frequency refers to the percentage of the total 100 stands in which
the species was present.

The xy and xz planes of the ordination are shown with the stands
labeled according to the dominant species in each. (Fig. 1) Five moss
species {Polytrichum juniperinum , P. commune , Ceratodon pur -
pureus , Grimmia apocarpa, and Hedwigia ciliata) formed clusters.

By comparing presence figures, it was evident that the clusters of
the major species often overlapped. For example, Polytrichum
juniperinum occurred in some of the same stands in which
Ceratodon, Thuidium , and Hedwigia were found. The overlapping
of the presence clusters indicated additional pair associations such
as P. commune and Thuidium , Grimmia and Hedwigia, Grimmia
and Ceratodon, Hedwigia and Ceratodon, and Hedwigia and
Thuidium.

Table 1. Percent cover, overall frequency, and
relative frequency by soil type and aspect
for representative species at Cactus Rock

1978]

Fritz , Lihera and Maravolo — Cactus Rock

61

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Lophozia ventricosa

62

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

a - * - * - L. - 1 - 1 - 1 - - s - r . . . .

1 .2 .3 .4 5 6 7 8 9 1.0

X

Figure 1. Ordination of the bryophyte stands at Cactus Rock. Letters indicate
dominant moss species (C: Ceratodon; G: Grimmia; H: Hedwigia; Pc: Polytrichum
commune; Pj: Polytrichum juniperinum) (a), X Y plane, (b) XZ plane.

1978]

Fritz , Libera and Maravolo— Cactus Rock

63

Substrate parameters established two major stand groupings.
The soil stands appear to the left(xy ordination) and to the upper left
(xz ordination) of the rock stands (Fig. 2). These clusters suggest
that the species composition of the soil stands was particularly
different from that of the rock stands. Furthermore, the soil stands
were more similar to other soil stands than they were to rock stands,
and the rock stands were more similar to other rock stands than to
soil stands.

Only six stands had soil depths of 2.5 cm or less; four of these
stands appeared near the rock-soil interface of the ordination. The
next deepest soil depth (2.6 to 6.5 cm) included about one half of the
soil stands. Most of these stands had x axis values less than 0.30 and
conversely most of the stands with x axis values of less than 0.30 had
soil depths within this range. Stands with the greatest soil depths
generally appeared in the center of the ordination (x values of 0.40-
0.50).

When stands were grouped by four levels of soil moisture the two
intermediate moisture grades (30-40%, 40-50%) were usually
associated with those stands which had the intermediate soil depths
(2. 5-6. 5 cm, 6.5-12.5 cm), and were found in most of the stands
having x values less than 0.25 and z values greater than 0.55. The
wettest stands were found primarily at x axis values of 0.30-0.45
and at z values less than 0.60. Excluding the rock stands, soil
moisture and soil depth generally increased with increasing x
values and decreasing z values. Those stands having the thinnest
soil and those which were driest did not fit this model.

Soil pH values paralleled the patterns described above. Except
for the stands with the lowest pH values (pH S.2-3.6), soil pH
increased with increasing x values and decreasing z values.

Stands of low light intensity were situated primarily to the right
on the xy graph and to the lower right on the xz graph. Several
stands of low light intensity also occurred at the center of both
planes. Higher intensity levels (3. 7-5.3 x 103 lx, S.3-7.5 x 103 lx)
appeared mainly in stands to the left and lower center of the xy
graph, and to the upper left and lower center of the xz graph.

A comparison of aspect (direction of inclination) and light
intensity data revealed that the stands receiving lower light
intensities were north-facing, and that the stands receiving higher
light intensities were south-facing. Thus, light intensity was a
function of aspect.

64

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

1978]

Fritz, Libera and Maravolo — Cactus Rock

65

All of the soil stands had slopes of less than 27°. In the rock stands,
the angle of inclination increased with increasing x values.

Stands having the lowest x values were stands in which
Polytrichum juniperinum was dominant. These stands were further
characterized by maximum soil depths of 2. 5-6.5 cm, mesic to wet
mesic conditions, acidic soil (pH 3. 7-4.2), and relatively high levels
of sunlight.

A cluster of stands in the center of the ordination (x and y values of
0.40-0.50) was dominated by Polytrichum commune. These stands
were generally on deep soil, were mesic to wet mesic, and had
slightly more acidic soil (pH 3. 2-4. 2) than P. juniperinum stands.
Polytrichum commune stands were found in the open as well in the
shade of trees.

Polytrichum commune was often found in pure stands in the field,
and when present occurred as a large percentage of the stand. A
strong competitive advantage, created either by a physiological
(allelopathic) or morphological adaptation, may be responsible but
such speculation requires further investigation.

Thuidium was present in eleven stands, one of which was
classified as a rock stand. The rock stand contained small areas
where thin soil pockets had accumulated. Thuidium grew in the
other stands where the soil was shallow; all depths were less than 6.5
cm. Soil moisture of those stands ranged widely, but the pH was
primarily in the intermediate range of 3. 7-4.2. The stands were
relatively level, mostly north-facing, and received very low levels of
light (generally between 0.39-1.9 x 103 lx). The rock stand where
Thuidium occurred was dominated by Hedwigia and Thuidium
represented only 4% cover. The substrate was primarily rock, and
Hedwigia was easily the stronger competitor. Thuidium was also
found in association with both Polytrichum species and with minor
species such as Brachythecium and Leucobryum.

Ceratodon purpureus stands formed a conspicuous grouping on
the xz plane where the Ceratodon stands had the lowest z values.
Light intensities in those stands were generally intermediate
between those of the Hedwigia and Grimmia stands (see below). The
Ceratodon stands were similar to Grimmia stands in that both were
mainly south-facing. The distinctive feature of the Ceratodon
stands was their gently sloping surface. Ceratodon was also found in
soil stands in association with Polytrichum juniperinum. These
stands had thin soil cover with occasional areas of open rock upon
which Ceratodon was found.

66

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Stands in which Hedwigia was dominant had the highest x
values. These stands had rock substrates that varied greatly in
aspect. The stands generally received little sunlight and most were
north-facing.

Grimmia stands generally had the same z values as Hedwigia
stands, and on the xz plane, groupings of Hedwigia and Grimmia
were interlocked; these species are found together frequently.
Therefore, one would expect to find differences which would favor
the dominance of one species over the other.

The Grimmia stands were primarily south-facing, while the
Hedwigia stands were north-facing. The Grimmia stands also were
on more gradual slopes. However, the most important difference
appears to be the higher light intensities in the Grimmia. stands
compared to those of the Hedwigia stands. Some of the stands in
which Grimmia was present but sub-dominant to Hedwigia had
light values higher than most of the Hedwigia stands. Grimmia was
favored in bright light, while Hedwigia attained dominance under
shadier conditions.

The analysis of the ordination concentrated upon the six species
which dominated the greatest number of stands. Five other species
dominated only one to four stands, and characterization of stand
environments, based upon so few stands, would be unduly
speculative. Since those five species displayed dominance in very
few stands and since several species encountered never displayed
dominance one could conclude that conditions were not favorable
for those species. However, the role of the less numerous species
cannot be overlooked. At the time of the study the minor species may
have been in the process of becoming more— or less — established
within the dynamic interactions of succession. Work on the major
moss species and their environments presents an ecological
perspective of the Cactus Rock bryophyte populations at the time of
this study.

1978]

Fritz, Libera and Maravolo — Cactus Rock

67

LITERATURE CITED

Beals, E. W. 1965. Ordination of some corticolous crytogamic communities in south-
central Wisconsin. Oikos 16: 1-8.

Culberson, W. L. 1955. The corticolous communities of lichens and bryophytes in the
upland forests of northern Wisconsin. Ecol. Monogr. 25: 215-31.

Foote, K. G. The vegetation of lichens and bryophytes on limestone outcrops in the
driftless area of Wisconsin. The Bryologist 69: 265-292.

Lechowicz, M. J., and M. S. Adams. 1974. Ecology of Cladonia lichens. I.
Premliminary assessment of the ecology of terricolous lichen-moss communities
in Ontario and Wisconsin. Can. J. Bot. 52: 55-64.

Mueller-Dumbois, D., and H. Ellenberg. 1974. Aims and methods of vegetation
ecology. Wiley and Sons, New York.

Newsome, R. D., and R. L. Dix. 1968. The forests of the Cypress Hills, Alberta and
Saskatchewan, Canada. Am. Midland Naturalist 80: 118-185.

Swan, J. M. A., and R. L. Dix. 1966. The phytosociological structure of upland forest
at Candle Lake, Saskatchewan. J. Ecol. 54: 13-40.

THE HISTORIC ROLE OF
CONSTITUTIONAL LIBERALISM IN THE
QUEST FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE1

Wayne Morse

In 1969, the family of Morris Fromkin (1892-1969)2 by a
gift to the University of Wisconsin- Milwaukee Library
provided for the establishment of a collection of materials on
the history of social justice in the United States between 1865
and the end of the New Deal. On November 22, 1970, the
Fromkin Memorial Collection was officially opened with a
day of activities which included a symposium on “ Third
Forces in American Politics ” and the first annual Fromkin
Lecture, “The Historic Role of Constitutional Liberalism in
the Quest for Social Justice, ” by the Honorable Wayne Morse
(1900-1971+)> a distinguished lawyer, teacher, labor
mediator, public administrator, Senator from Oregon from
191+5 to 1969, and champion of countless liberal causes.
Senator Morse began with a discussion of the role of
constitutional liberalism in the labor movement.

<

orris Fromkin was on the side of
liberal advocates of political and
economic reform because he
recognized it was essential to obtain social justice for all the people
rather than special privileges for the selected few. The exploitation
of labor under corporate industrialization, with its mass production
and repressive labor policies, brought forth the militant organized
labor movement of the 1880s and 1890s and on through to the 1930s
and 1940s. The right of workers to organize into unions; the right to
bargain collectively for agreements governing hours, wages, and
conditions of employment; and the right to withhold their services
by means of a strike, first against an individual employer and later
against a group of employers in the same business on a regional or
industry-wide basis, were eventually won by organized labor. These
rights of social and economic justice were won over the bitter
opposition of organized employer groups, opposition which led to

68

1978]

Morse — Quest for Social Justice

69

much economic suffering for workers and their families and— all
too frequently— physical injuries and bloodshed inflicted by
employer goons and politically directed, overzealous police: During
this long struggle for the rights of groups of workers to organize
into unions and to withhold their services until a collective
bargaining agreement could be consummated, the representatives
of labor had to oppose vigorously not only strong anti-union
employer opposition, often joined in by employer-sponsored non¬
union employees and company police, but also anti-labor political
administrations, city and state. Even judges, both state and federal,
dishonored their robes by issuing ex parte anti-labor injunctions
breaking strikes and boycotts.

“Government by injunction” became the protest battle cry of
organized labor and of political liberals throughout the progressive
period from the 1880s to the 1940s. Public confidence in the
impartiality of the courts was damaged by disclosures of anti-labor
bi^s, the exercise of arbitrary and capricious discretion by too many
former corporation lawyers and hack politicians who had been
elevated to judgeships.

The very foundation of our constitutional guarantees of
democratic self-government is our judicial system, which is
charged with the obligation of dispensing evenhanded justice to all
litigants, without discrimination as to equality of procedural rights
in the administration of justice.

I am satisfied that throughout our history most judges have been
dedicated, honest dispensers of equal justice in accordance with the
law as they have found it to be applicable to the operative facts of
each case coming before them. Nevertheless, in the social, economic,
and political turbulence of the progressive period, with its many
conflicts over social -justice legislation, it became evident that, in too
many instances, the donning of judicial robes did not cover the
conflicts of interest, the biases against organized labor, and the
partisan political prejudices against long overdue legislative
reforms. Public criticism of many decisions involving social justice
spread throughout the land. Although it was not limited to labor-
law jurisprudence, it was in this area that some of the strongest
political attacks against the courts were made.

Under our constitutional system of government, with its three
coordinate and co-equal branches of government, whenever public
opinion starts losing confidence in the impartiality of judges, our
national stability becomes seriously threatened. Such a trend of loss

70

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

of confidence in members of the bench developed in the early years
of this century, and renewed itself in the 1930s ....

Whenever the people in large numbers come to believe that legal
procedures for the administration of justice limit or infringe upon
their substantive legal rights, the courts are certain to come under
justifiable attack. That happened in the progressive period. It is
beginning to happen again today. The people must be shown, if they
do not already know, that one of the characteristics of a police state
is judicial tyranny. They must be made aware that their right to
social justice can never be any better than their procedural rights
for obtaining it, whether through the courts, through legislation, or
through executive order ....

Granted that today we must have more judges, police, deputy
prosecutors, administrative personnel, and law enforcement
facilities, but these alone will not bring about public confidence in
the men and women in charge of our procedures for administering
justice. We should never forget that whenever public officials,
including judges, are removed from the direct check of the general
public . . . public confidence in their procedures and rulings is
lessened. This happened in the progressive period, and we should
learn the lessons of that era before it becomes too late in our time to
avoid a constitutional crisis.

The federal judiciary came under widespread criticism in that
period for its alleged anti-union bias and exercise of arbitrary
discretion in adjudicating labor dispute cases. Anti-union
employers found it not difficult to obtain injunctive relief from
many federal judges well practiced in enjoining unions from
picketing, from organizing employees against employer opposition,
and from engaging in other standard union practices. Many of the
injunctions were obtained by employers in ex parte hearings based
upon employer charges of alleged violence or threats of violence or
coercion of one type or another. “Union busting by anti-union
judges” became a political charge of organized labor. Liberal
political leaders in Wisconsin and other states . . . decided that the
courts in fact were abusing their powers and supported labor’s
demand for legislation to curb the power of the courts in labor
dispute cases.

The widespread public dissatisfaction with “government by
injunction” . . . produced legislation in Congress and in several
state legislatures designed to restrict the jurisdiction of courts in
such cases. The Norris-La Guardia anti-injunction act of 1932 was

1978]

Morse — Quest for Social Justice

71

an attempt by Congress to check the courts in their abuse of the
injunction power. The National Labor Relations Board legislation,
known as the Wagner Act of July, 1935, was another part of the
answer to public criticism of the courts. Some state legislatures
adopted similar state laws applicable to state cases not subject to
federal jurisdiction.

For many years, the organizational picket line, stretched in front
of an employer’s plant or place of business as an economic
inducement for him to recognize the union and proceed to bargain
collectively with the union, was enjoined by many courts on one
legal theory or another or one technicality or another. It was
thought by labor leaders and their lawyers that after the passage of
the Norris-La Guardia Act organizational picket lines had been
placed out of the reach of court injunctions.

It was in a celebrated Wisconsin labor case which reached the
United States Supreme Court in 1938, Laufx. Shinner & Co.,3 that
Morris Fromkin and his colleague, A. W. Richter, successfully
argued that a labor union, none of whose members worked for a
given employer, could not be enjoined from picketing that employer
in an attempt to force him to permit the union to organize his plant.
The case editor of the Michigan Law Review, commenting on the
signficance of the case, wrote, “A freedom from the impediments of
the federal equity injunction greater than at any time since the rise
of the labor movement now seems assured.”. . . 4

Thus ended many years of bitter controversy over the right of
labor to stretch organizational picket lines, finally authorized by
the Norris-La Guardia anti-injunction act and sustained by the
United States Supreme Court in Lauf v. Shinner & Co.5 The
thoroughly researched brief prepared by Morris Fromkin and his
colleague was responsible for labor’s historic victory in this case. It
was a great advance for social justice in the labor movement ....

Perceiving the labor movement as but one aspect of the
quest for social justice in the United States in which
constitutional liberalism played an important role,
Senator Morse moved to recent political issues in which, in
his opinion, the role of constitutional liberalism has been to
provide a necessary safeguard to constitutional
guarantees of self government.

Our colonial forefathers revolted against a mcr^rchy of
government by kings and subservient parliaments exercising
arbitrary, capricious, discretionary power over a subjugated

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

colonial populace. They sought to set up a constitutional system of
government by law which would guarantee protection to the people
from government by executive supremacy and secrecy. Thus, they
provided for three coordinate and co-equal branches of government
with each exercising prescribed constitutional checks upon the
other two. They recognized an ever present human factor,
frequently overlooked or ignored throughout the history of our
nation and even today: that our constitutional system, which was
designed to give us a government by law, is nevertheless bound to be
administered by mere men, with all their human frailties. Among
these frailties is the temptation to usurp power and arbitrarily deny
legal rights and social justice and to justify capricious discretion
with intellectually dishonest rationalizations. Thus, too frequently
men in office succumb to corruptive influences and desecrate their
offices and bring government into disrepute.

From Lincoln to Franklin Roosevelt, liberal leaders and their
many supporters . . . sought to obtain for all the people through the
guarantees of the Constitution the liberties, civil rights, and
political and economic freedoms for the individual which were
envisioned by the people and their leaders when the Constitution
was adopted. This, to my mind, is the definition of constitutional
liberalism.

These constitutional guarantees involve the basic abstract
principles of self-government whence come our rights as free men
and women. The denial of these rights in varying degrees to too
many people was the motivating cause of dissent which grew until it
produced the liberal reform movements fighting for social justice
throughout the Lincoln-to-Roosevelt period in our history ....

I firmly believe that the self-government guarantees of the
Constitution, with its checks-and-balances safeguards against
government by mere men rather than by law, if faithfully
administered, will assure social justice to the American people. The
provisions for amending the Constitution, the delegating of duties,
and the restricting of authority granted to the people’s officials in
the three branches of government, if faithfully carried out, offer our
people their best hope of retaining self-government through law,
and of obtaining a full measure of social justice for all.

The alternative? Obviously, a form of police state under which
social justice disappears along with personal liberties.

Throughout the Lincoln-to-Roosevelt era, populist movements
and their leaders, regardless of their political party labels, opposed

1978]

Morse — Quest for Social Justice

73

powerful, reactionary political forces that sought to deny social
justice by seeking to reverse the political tenet that public officials
are to serve the people, not master them.

The populist crusaders fought under the banner “constant
vigilance is the price of liberty.” Underlying Lincoln’s faith in self-
government by the people was his dedication to the commitments
set forth in the Preamble to the Constitution: “We the people of the
United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish
Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common
defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of
Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this
Constitution for the United States of America.”

Lincoln recognized that if those statements of the purposes of the
Constitution ever should be allowed to become empty rhetoric, self-
government in the United States would cease to exist ....

It is not trite to quote that famous Lincoln statement of
governmental obligation to the people which has become a major
premise used by liberals ever since in their advocacy of government
controls, regulation, and (if necessary for the protection of the
public interest) ownership and operation of facilities and projects
essential to promoting the general welfare. I refer to the well known
Lincoln teaching, “The legitimate object of government is to do for a
community of people whatever they need to have done but cannot do
at all, or cannot do so well, for themselves in their separate and
individual capacities.”

I submit that from the time of Lincoln, throughout the
progressive period, right up to the present, the leading spokesmen
for liberal and insurgent political movements, who have fought for
social justice while advocating continued self-government, have
been constitutional liberals in the sense that I have used the
term ....

It is my judgment that of all the liberal movements in the country
after Lincoln to the time of Franklin Roosevelt none accomplished
so much in the quest for social justice as the populist movement in
Wisconsin from 1890 to 1938. It would take a one-semester seminar
course to cover, even in a cursory manner, the major contributions
of Victor Berger, Daniel Hoan, Robert M. La Follette, Sr., Robert
La Follette, Jr., and his brother Philip, plus all their liberal
associates in and out of office during that period of time. The liberal
legislative program of the La Follette era . . . became the
pacesetter for state after state, as well as for the White House and

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Congress. How well I remember the several conversations I had
with Franklin Roosevelt about Senator Robert M. La Follette, Sr.,
and the legislative policies he fought for.

President Roosevelt told me he had been a close follower of what
he called “Bob La Follette’s phenomenal liberal political record
both in Wisconsin as governor and in the Senate.” As a member of
the War Labor Board, in addition to participation in the adjudica¬
tion of cases, I was assigned the responsibility of serving as
compliance officer of the Board.6 Those duties brought me into
conference with President Roosevelt two or three times a month,
because all major enforcement decisions of the Board against
unions or management, as in seizure cases, required his personal
approval. It was a great privilege to meet with him, and frequently
after we had finished our discussion of a given compliance case he
would seem to enjoy relaxing into a discussion of political issues. It
was on several of these occasions, knowing my early Wisconsin
background,7 that he seemed to enjoy talking about La Follette’s
legislative record. He did not hesitate to tell me that the La Follette
Wisconsin legislative program laid the groundwork for many of his
own legislative proposals both when he was Governor of New York
and when he and his advisors promulgated the New Deal legislative
program ....

In the field of foreign policy, constitutional liberals have a duty to
oppose Presidential requests for authority which exceed con¬
stitutional Presidential powers. Unfortunately, many liberals,
under the pressure of political expediency, have voted for
resolutions requested by Presidents authorizing the use of
American military forces in combat on foreign soil without a
declaration of war. One of these requests was made by President
Wilson in April, 1914, when he asked Congress for approval to “use
the armed forces of the United States [in Mexico] in such ways and
to such an extent as may be necessary to obtain from Gen. Huerta
and his adherents the fullest recognition of the rights and dignity of
the United States. . . .”8 It was a forerunner by many years of the
Formosa, Middle East, and Gulf of Tonkin resolutions of the
Eisenhower and Johnson administrations.

While the resolution was pending before Congress, President
Wilson ordered Admiral Fletcher to seize Vera Cruz. During this
action four American Marines were killed and twenty wounded;
126 Mexicans were killed and 195 wounded. . . .

On March 10, 1916, in a speech in the Senate, La Follette . . . said,

1978]

Morse — Quest for Social Justice

75

“I believe it to be vital to the safety and perpetuity of this
government that Congress should assert and manintain its right to a
voice in declaring and prescribing the foreign policy of the United
States. . . . Democratic control of foreign policies is a basic principle
of all organized effort looking for the future establishment of
permanent world peace. . . . Shall we in this crisis of the world’s
history fail to assert our constitutional rights and by our negligence
and default permit the establishment in this country of that
exclusive Executive control over foreign affairs that the people of
Europe are now repenting amid the agonies of war? . . . There
never was a time in history when it was more fundamentally
important that we preserve intact the essential principle of
democracy on which our Government is founded— that the will of
the people is the law of the land.” . . .9

The advice-and-consent clause does not mean that the advice and
consent of the Congress should be sought by the President after the
fact. It means that he should seek it before the fact. Constitutional
liberals should recognize that Presidents have no constitutional
right to make war without a declaration of war ....

Presidents have no legal right to make war in the name of acting
as commander-in-chief of the armed forces. They have the duty to
respond to the self-defense of the republic if our nation is suddenly
attacked, as the Japanese attacked us at Pearl Harbor. In that
crisis, Franklin Roosevelt, as commander-in-chief, went to the
immediate self-defense of our nation, but he also went to his desk
and wrote his great war message calling for a declaration of
war ....

I have mentioned the issue of the fast growing trend in our
country toward government by executive supremacy and secrecy
because it is the major issue that the liberal movements since the
Civil War have made the least progress in checking and solving in
the interest of the people. It threatens to create a constitutional
crisis. More than 44,000 American soldiers have died and more than
275,000 have been wounded in Asia because Congress has not
checked Presidents from conducting an illegal, immoral, and
unjustifiable war in Asia.

I would suggest that in the last decade there have developed so
many changes in the life patterns of our people that mythology has
come to characterize much of our American way of life. Some
aspects of it are no longer relevant, or, I prefer to say, serviceable, in
the solving of the crises that confront our nation. To determine what

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

is still valid in this electronic world of computers and all the rest and
to discard the other without losing our individual liberty is the most
serious problem facing us today ....

NOTATIONS

Stanley Mallach, Bibliographer of the Fromkin Memorial
Collection, adapted and edited this paper from a tape recording and
rough text of Senator Morse's lecture, supplying notes where
necessary, and inserting ellipses where conversational asides and
extensive quotations have been omitted from the present text.

2Of Morris Fromkin, Senator Morse said:

I came to know Morris Fromkin through our mutual
interests and activities in the field of labor relations. When I
was on the National War Labor Board, I met him first, as I
recall, in Milwaukee through Joseph Padway [the legal
counsel for the American Federation of Labor] .... He
possessed a brilliant mind and a social conscience that
directed him into crusades seeking social justice for
individuals and groups to whom justice was being denied.

Morris Fromkin was a learned lawyer who developed a
flourishing law practice in Milwaukee from 1920 to 1946. He
then moved to New York City where he continued to be a very
successful leader of the Bar until his death, April 24, 1969.
His office practice rested on a broad base of labor law,
corporation law, and a general practice serving the legal and
social justice needs of the rich and the poor, as well as clients
of average means.

He was born in Russia. After the death of his mother, when
he was a young boy, his father migrated to the United States,
bringing Morris and his brothers and sisters with him, and
settled on the Lower East Side of New York City. Young
Morris went to work with his father in a factory. It was there
that he learned that urban industralization, crowded
conditions in substandard housing, low wages for long hours
of work, high prices, and limited educational opportunities
contributed to the denial of social justice to many immigrants
and other underprivileged workers.

Economic and social ruts can become deep and confining
in any congested urban industrial area, even though the
streets may be of asphalt and stone. Morris Fromkin came

1978]

Morse— Quest for Social Justice

77

from a family that would not be rutted. The family helped
each other, and Morris worked hard for his education. With
scholarships and outside jobs he worked his way through
Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, attaining his
B.A. degree in 1918. He then went to Marquette University
Law School in Milwaukee, where he obtained his LL.B.
degree in 1920. During the First World War Morris Fromkin
served in the United States Field Artillery and saw active
duty in France, notably in the St-Mihiel salient.

From this background, it is understandable that in his law
practice he provided much free legal service to many
immigrants and indigents who otherwise would have been
denied justice. He was a liberal lawyer in the sense that he
recognized that if social justice and legal rights are denied to
the economically disadvantaged because they cannot meet
the price tag, then government by law — the foundation of
political self-government . will disintegrate.

He was a liberal lawyer also in the sense that he recognized
that a decent standard of living for all those willing and able
to work is essential to the survival of our system of economic
and political self-government. Thus, he took an active
interest in many struggling social justice movements:
collective bargaining for labor unions, programs of the
Grange and other farmer groups, and, most particularly, the
political reform proposals of liberal leaders of all political
persuasions— Governor Altgeld, a Democrat of Illinois;
Senator La Follette, a progressive Republican of Wisconsin;
Senator Norris, a liberal Republican of Nebraska; Victor
Berger and Daniel Hoan, Socialists of Wisconsin; and many
leaders of the Farmer-Labor Party in Minnesota, the
Nonpartisan League of North Dakota, as well as liberal
leaders and organizations in other states.

3Lauf v. Shinner & Co., 303 U.S. 323 (1938). The case involved
“stranger picketing,” a situation in which the picket line around a
struck firm was manned by people who were not and usually never
had been employees of the firm. Neither the Nor ris-La GuardiaAct
nor the Wisconsin Labor Code specifically included stranger
picketing in its definition of a labor dispute. The question the
United States Supreme Court confronted was whether the stranger
picket in Lauf did indeed constitute a labor dispute under the
provisions of the Norris-La Guardia Act and was therefore

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

protected from being enjoined. The larger question the Court spoke
on in its decision was the power of Congress to limit the injunctive
power of courts in labor disputes.

The case concerned a firm that operated five meat markets in
Milwaukee and a labor union to which none of the firm’s employees
belonged. The union came to the firm and demanded that it require
its employees to join the union as a condition of employment. The
firm told its employees they were free to join the union, but none did.
The union then began picketing the firm’s markets to force the
employer to require his employees to join the union as a condition of
employment or to drive the firm out of Milwaukee. In picketing
Shinner’s meat markets the union resorted to some unseemly
tactics, such as physically intimidating prospective customers.
Taking no notice of these tactics, but dealing with the question of the
legality of the picket itself, a Federal District Court enjoined the
picket on the ground that no labor dispute existed between the firm
and the union. The Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed the decision.
The Supreme Court reversed the lower court decisions by finding
that a labor dispute did exist under the provisions of the Norris-La
Guardia Act and the Wisconsin Labor Code and that therefore the
picket could not be enjoined. On stranger picketing, see also
American Federation of Labor v. Swing, 312 U.S. 321 (1941).

4Erwin B. Ellmann, “When a ‘Labor Dispute’ Exists Within the
Meaning of the Norris-La Guardia Act,” Michigan Law Review , 36
(May, 1938), 1147. In his comment Ellmann was writing not only
about Lauf v. Shinner, but also about New Negro Alliance v.
Sanitary Grocery Co., which likewise involved stranger picketing.

5Senator Morse slightly exaggerates the importance of the
Norris-La Guardia Act and Lauf v. Shinner & Co. in making
picketing immune from judicial attacks. Other laws and cases were
equally important. Among these were the Wagner Act, which
created the National Labor Relations Board to regulate labor
relations in the United States; N.L.R.B. v. Jones & Laughlin Steel
Corp., 301 U.S. 1 (1937), and other cases which upheld the
constitutionality of the Wagner Act; and Thornhill v. Alabama, 310
U. S. 88 (1940), in which the Supreme Court brought picketing
under the protection of the First Amendment as an exercise of free
speech. After the Thornhill decision, however, the Court modified
its implicit position that picketing was absolutely protected as a
form of communication and put the legality of pickets and
injunctions against pickets on a case-by-case basis in Milk Wagon

1978]

Morse — Quest for Social Justice

79

Drivers’ Union v. Meadowmoor Dairies, 312 U. S. 287 (1941), and
Carpenters and Joiners Union v. Ritter’s Cafe, 312 U. S. 722 (1942).

6Morse served as a public representative on the Board from 1942
to 1944.

7Morse was born in Madison and educated at the University of
Wisconsin. He taught there in 1924, after which he went to
Minnesota to continue his education.

8Quoted in Belle C. and Fola La Follette, Robert M . La Follette, 2
vols. (New York: Macmillan Company, 1953), I, p. 496.

9Quoted in ibid., p. 560.

THE REPRODUCTIVE CYCLE AND
FECUNDITY OF THE ALEWIFE IN
LAKE MICHIGAN1

Roger R. Hlavek

Marian College , Indianapolis , Indiana

Carroll R. Norden

University of Wisconsin — Milwaukee

ABSTRACT

The alewife population in southern Lake
Michigan exhibited a spawning season
extending from mid-June to early August,
with a peak in July, as indicated by gonosomal indices and
confirmed from histological sections of the ovaries and testes.
During the height of spawning, gonads comprised 5 to 6% of body
weight in males and 8 to 12% in females, values approximately nine
times as great as in the quiescent season. The relationship between
fecundity and total length was expressed as Y = 292X — 29,719. The
correlation coefficient was .44. Fecundity versus ovarian weight
was Y=4,819X - 1,262, with a correlation coefficient of .90.
Fecundity was related to the gonosomal index by Y = 2,352X - 3,801,
with a correlation coefficient of .71. Gonosomal indices of dying fish
revealed various states of sexual development.

INTRODUCTION

The alewife, Alosa pseudoharengus (Wilson) was first noted in
Lake Michigan in 1949 (Miller, 1957), and its subsequent population
explosion has had detrimental ramifications, particularly because
it occupies several niches during its life history and competes with
many of the more desirable fishes (Smith, 1968). Since the alewife
has been multiplying at a rapid rate in the lake, a study of its
reproductive cycle is warranted as an aid in estimating its biotic
potential.

Spawning in landlocked alewives has been reported from April to
early August in Lake Ontario, with a peak from mid-June to July
(Pritchard, 1929; Graham, 1956); in late June in both Lake Erie
(C.F.R., 1961) and Lake Michigan (Edsall, 1964); and from late May

1 Contribution No. 178, Center for Great Lakes Studies, The University of Wisconsin-
Milwaukee, Milwaukee, Wisconsin 53201.

80

1978]

Hlavek & Nor den — Alewife in Lake Michigan

81

to late August in the Finger Lakes of New York State (Odell, 1934;
Galligan, 1962).

Concerning fecundity, Odell (1934) reported an average of 10,000
to 12,000 mature ova in freshwater alewives from Seneca Lake,
New York, while Norden (1967) indicated a range of 11,000 to
22,000 in Lake Michigan alewives. These are far below counts for
the marine form: 60,000 to 100,000 (Bean, 1902 in Breder and
Rosen, 1966; Havey, 1950), and 102,800 (Brice, 1898; Hildebrand
and Schroeder, 1928; Smith, 1907).

This research was undertaken to describe the natural changes
which accompany the development and maturation of the reproduc¬
tive organs of the alewife in Lake Michigan.

METHODS AND MATERIALS

Several hundred alewives were collected by dip-net, seining, and
commercial trawling from various points in Lake Michigan from
1968 to 1971. Dying fish were collected from the Milwaukee Harbor
on several occasions during July, 1969. Only fish dying of apparent
natural causes were examined.

Gross morphological gonadal changes were expressed as
variations in the percentage of total body weight comprised by the
gonads (Gonosomal index =g/ bw x 100), also referred to as maturity
index (Vladykov, 1956).

Fecundity of 35 gravid females collected July 26, 1969 at
Milwaukee Harbor was determined. The gonosomal index of each
specimen was first calculated, then each ovary was divided into:
anterior, middle, and posterior parts. A small subsample of each
part was weighed and the total number of mature eggs counted. The
fecundity in thousands of mature eggs per female was then
correlated with total length, gonosomal index, and ovarian weight.

Histological differentiation was determined by sectioning gonads
of fish collected throughout the year. Testes and ovaries were
sectioned at 6 and 10 micra respectively, and stained with
Heidenhain’s hematoxylin and eosin.

RESULTS

Reproductive Cycle

The spawning cycle of the alewife can be rather accurately
determined from the gonosomal index. During the course of the
year, both sexes underwent an approximate nine-fold increase in
gonad/body weight relationship from the quiescent to sexually

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 66

4 * 4

I 1 iit

♦♦ ♦ ♦♦

j fmamjjasond
MONTH

? ;

•* #

J FMAMJ JASOND
MONTH

Fig. 1. Seasonal changes in the
gonosomal index of the female alewife
in Lake Michigan [dashed line in¬
dicates 1 standard deviation].

Fig. 2. Seasonal changes in the
gonosomal index of the male alewife in
Lake Michigan [dashed line indicates 1
standard deviation].

mature condition (Figs. 1 and 2). Ovaries developed from about 1%
of body weight in September and October with low variability, to
over 9% in July with great variability. Some individuals reached
15%. These changes were reflected in the size and gross anatomy of
the gonads. The testes increased slowly from mid-September to
early May, and variability among individuals was low. A rapid
acceleration and increased variability were observed from late May
to early July. A sharp decrease in the gonosomal index occurred in
both sexes from late August to September, and variability tended to
be lower. The absence of a well defined peak and the increased
variability indicates that the alewife population in Lake Michigan
has an extended spawning season, with individuals maturing
asynchronously.

The relative state of reproductive maturity can be estimated from
the gonosomal index. A value of less than one percent in males and
one to one and one half percent in females places them in the post-
spawned or quiescent phase. Values from one to two percent in
males and two to three percent in females indicates the start of
gonadal development for next season. Males of three to four percent
and females of four to five percent are maturing, with the gonads
beginning to enlarge noticeably. Ripe individuals are characterized
by gonosomal indices of five to six percent for males, and eight to
twelve percent for females. Since there was a larger variability as
maturation neared, these values are only approximations and not
absolute natural divisions.

1978]

Hlavek & Nor den — Alewife in Lake Michigan

83

Fecundity

This study revealed an average of 19,460 mature ova per female.
The number of mature ova per fish was compared with total length.
The least squares equation was Y = 292X - 29,719, with a correlation
coefficient of .44. (Fig. 3)

TOTAL LENGTH (mm)

Fig. 3. Linear relationship between
total length and fecundity of the
alewife in Lake Michigan.

The regression of ovarian weight on fecundity was Y =: 4,819X -
1,262 (Fig. 4). The high correlation coefficient of .90 indicates
fecundity can be fairly well estimated from ovarian weight.

The relationship for gonosomal index versus fecundity is
expressed as Y = 2,352X - 3,801, with a correlation coefficient of .71
(Fig. 5). All three correlations were significant (p. 0.01, 33 d.f.).

OOGENESIS

The ovaries of the alewife are paired structures surrounded by an
epithelium and suspended from the mesovarium. They are ellipsoid
in general shape, tapering from anterior to posterior; in cross
section they may be round or triangular. As in most teleosts, the
ovary is of the cystovarian type with ovigerous lamellae protruding
into a central lumen to increase the surface area of the organ. The
overall color is white to cream in the quiescent stage; the gravid
ovary is a bright yellow-orange.

The alewife ovary exhibits a seasonal cycle. In January, large

NUMBER OF EGGS (1000)

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

OVARY WEIGHT (g.)

Fig. 4. Linear relationship between
ovarian weight and fecundity of the
alewife in Lake Michigan.

GONOSOMAL INDEX

Fig. 5. Linear relationship between
gonosomal index and fecundity of the
alewife in Lake Michigan.

numbers of primary and secondary oocytes predominate. Most ova
are less than 200 micra in diameter, although some are larger. A
follicle, chorion, and vitelline membrane are beginning to be
formed. The larger ova are characterized by a vacuolated
peripheral layer of cytoplasm as oil droplets begin to form. Ova of
all sizes are intermingled within the ovary, and little crowding is
noted (Fig. 6). Sex can be fairly easily determined by the gross
anatomy of the gonad, although its color is usually whitish at this
stage. During this period, the ova grow slowly with no abrupt
changes.

During April, the majority of eggs are still less than 220 micra in
diameter with some of the ova developing prominent follicular and
vitelline membranes. Peripheral vacuolization is present in ova
measuring 230-250 micra, while the central ooplasm remains fairly
homogeneous. The ovigerous lamellae become more crowded and
the ovarian wall has become thicker and more vascular. Prominent
strands of supporting connective tissue migrate into the ovarian
cavity, dividing it into compartments. Grossly, the ovary is yellower
than during the fall and winter.

1978]

Hlavek & Nor den— A lewife in Lake Michigan

85

By May, the larger ova are approaching 320 micra in diameter,
and vacuolization is prominent in the peripheral ooplasm. The
smaller oocytes are usually under the epithelium of the ovigerous
lamellae, but the ova are not very crowded. A central lumen is still
present (Fig. 7). The ova are yellower and ovarian vascularization is
increased. Sex can be easily determined from the gross anatomy of
the gonad at this stage. The ova are pale yellow and blood vessels are
apparent.

During the first part of June the follicle is obvious, and the
chorion reaches a maximum thickness of 9 - 11 micra. The larger
ova (400 micra) are most conspicuous, although immature ones are
still present. By mid-June, the ova are approaching 600 micra in
diameter, and are yolk laden. Yolk granules have increased from 4 -
5 micra to 9 or 10 micra. Eggs are quite crowded and some are
pushed together so that they appear flat sided. The follicular
epihelium and vitelline membrane are well developed (Fig. 8).

During the peak spawning month of July, the ova are crowded,
and some resorption is noted. The anterior tip of the ovary is often
medianly reflected because the organ is so extensive.

Although alewives spawn in Lake Michigan during late June and
July, a wide range of ova sizes including primary and secondary
oocytes can be found in the ovary at this time. Some atresia was
noted in August and a large number of vacuolated ova was seen.
Ovaries of spawned - out fish are thin and flaccid and appear almost
translucent.

In the fall, early stages of oogenesis are evident in the ovary, with
ova less than 125 micra in diameter. Grossly, the gonads can be
determined as female by their relatively “granular” texture. If the
organ is broken in half, the ovary will “open up” and a central cavity
will be evident. At this season the gonads are in a very undeveloped
condition.

During November, most ova are less than 150 micra, but a few of
the larger ones show a fairly apparent vitelline layer, which is quite
thin. Most eggs are developing a follicle layer, the ova are not
extremely crowded, and a central lumen is more obvious. The
ovarian wall is thinner and less vascularized.

In December, a few of the larger ova are about 200 micra in
diameter, with considerable peripheral vacuolization, but the
majority of the eggs has not grown appreciably since late fall. The
follicle is more developed and the chorion is becoming more
apparent.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Voh 66

Fig. 6. Section of an immature alewife Fig. 7. Section of a maturing alewife
ovary showing typical cystovarian con- ovary showing peripheral vacuolization
figuration, with ovigerous lamellae of the ova. TL 183 mm. Wt. 53gr. (lOOx).
containing primary and secondary
oocytes protruding into the central
lumen. TL 130 mm. Wt. 19 grams (40x)

Fig. 8. Section of a ripe ovary showing a mature ovum in the follicle. TL 188 mm. Wt
48 gr. (lOOx).

1978]

Hlavek & Norden — Alewife in Lake Michigan

87

Spermatogenesis

In the fall of the year, the alewife testes is a narrow strand of
whitish, blade-shaped tissue, slightly wider anteriorly and dorsally.
Determination of sex by gross anatomy is somewhat difficult, but is
possible because the organ’s texture is more homogeneous than that
of the ovary, and it does not have a central lumen.

Histologically, the immature testes is divided into numerous
crypts or lobules, which are separated by connective tissue. Within
each lobule are numerous spermatogonia, each of which will
progress and mature as an independent unit. All the cells within a
crypt are at the same stage of spermatogenesis at any one time.
During the fall these cells do not show much variation. The testes
develops slowly throughout the winter months and does not increase
in size to the extent the ovary does in the female.

By May, the testes shows some variability among the stages of
spermatocyte development. Some of the crypts contain mostly
spermatogonia, while others are in the primary spermatocyte
stage.

By July, the testes is greatly enlarged. The color is creamy white,
and the anterior is often folded back upon itself. Male alewives in
this condition are ripe or nearly so. Histologically, the gonads show
crypts filled with spermatids. The gametes in the ripe male gonad
do not exhibit as much variability as those in the ripe ovary, the vast
majority all being in the same stage of development.

Dy ing Fish

Fiftymne females had a mean gonosomal index of 4.2%, with a
range from 1 to 14%. Thirty males had a mean index of .83%, and
range of .30 to 2.9%.

DISCUSSION

The ovary was used in this study as the major indicator of gonadal
changes, as environmental influences on the sex cycle are reflected
with greater dependability in the ovary than in the testes
(Harrington, 1959). The gonosomal index is a valid measure
because the gonad/body weight ratio tends to be constant at any one
season for all sizes of the same sex and state of maturity (LeCren,
1951).

The spawning season of the alewife in Lake Michigan is

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

characterized as extended and asynchronous, a situation which
reduces the likelihood that an entire year class would be lost by a
sudden transient detrimental change in the environment, once
spawning has commenced. This mechanism may help explain the
success of this species in lakes of the temperate region which are
annually subjected to far greater extremes than the marine form in
the relatively stable ocean.

The equations developed for the determination of fecundity from
length, ovary weight, and gonosomal index can be used to gain
estimates of egg counts on the basis of simple measurements.

The histological description of the reproductive cycle has been
reported for several species of fish, but the present work is the first
to our knowledge on the freshwater alewife. The spawning cycle as
determined from the gonosomal index agrees well with the
histological development of the reproductive organs.

Specimens of dying fish examined during the spawning period
indicate that mortality does not necessarily occur after the
completion of spawning, because several fish had relatively high
gonosomal indices. It is conceivable that a reproductive stress is
related to mortality. Morsell and Norden (1968) showed that there
was a marked reduction or possible cessation of feeding at this time,
and the reserve energy supply of adipose tissue was at a seasonal
low. This suggests the alewife is susceptible to environmental stress
during the reproductive season.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks are extended to the many graduate students who aided in
the field work involved. Drs. Eldon Warner, Newtol Press, and Jon
Stanley reviewed the original manuscript. A special thank you is
extended to Dr. Ross Bulkley for his constructive comments. The
LaFond Fisheries of Milwaukee and LaRue Wells in Ann Arbor,
Michigan provided specimens during the winter. This research was
partially supported by Contract No. 14 - 17 - 0007 - 947, Project No.
AFC - 5 - 1 and 2, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and the Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources.

1978]

Hlavek & Norden— Alewife in Lake Michigan

89

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Breder, C. M. and D. E. Rosen. 1966. Modes of Reproduction in Fishes. Am. Mus. of
Nat. History, National History Press, Garden City, New York. pp. 86 - 87.

Brice, J. J. 1898. A manual of fish culture, based on the methods of the United States
Commission of Fish and Fisheries with chapters on the cultivation of oysters and
frogs. Rept. U.S. Comm. Fish. 1897 (Append.) :340 pp.

Commercial Fisheries Review. 1961. Lake Erie fish population survey for 1961
season begins. Comm. Fish. Rev. 23 (6):23 - 24.

Edsall, T. A. 1964. Feeding by three species of fishes on the eggs of spawning
alewives. Copeia (1): 226 - 227.

Galligan, J. P. 1962. Depth distribution of lake trout and associated species in
Cayuga Lake, New York. New York Fish Game Jour. 9 (1): 44 - 68.

Graham, J. J. 1956. Observations on the alewife, Alosa pseudoharengus (Wilson) in
fresh water. Univ. Toronto Bibliogical Series No. 62, Pub. Ontario Fish. Res. Lab.
No. 74, 43 pp.

Harrington, R. W., Jr. 1959. Effect of four combinations of temperature and
daylength on the oogenic cycle of a low latitude fish, Fundulus confluentes. Zoologica
44: 149 - 168.

Havey, K. A. 1950. The freshwater fisheries of Long Pond and Echo Lake, Mount
Desert Island, Maine. M.S. Thesis, Univ. Maine, 83 pp.

Hildebrand, S. F. and W. C. Schroeder. 1928. Fishes of Chesapeake Bay. Bull. U.S.
Bur. Fish. 43:1 - 366.

LaCren, E. D. 1951. The length-weight relationship and seasonal cycle in the gonad
weight of the perch. Jour. Animal Ecol. 20:201 - 219.

Miller, R. R. 1957. Origin and dispersal of the alewife, Alosa pseudoharengus , and the
gizzard shad, Dorosoma cepedianum in the Great Lakes. Trans. Am. Fish. Soc.
86:96 - 111.

Morsell, J. W. and C. R. Norden. 1968. Food habits of the alewife, Alosa
pseudoharengus (Wilson) in Lake Michigan. Proc. 11th Conf. Great Lakes Res.,
Internat. Assoc. Great Lakes Res. pp. 96 - 102.

Norden, C. R. 1967. Age, growth, and fecundity of the alewife in Lake Michigan.
Trans. Am. Fish. Soc. 96: 387 - 393.

Odell, T. T. 1934. Life history and ecological relationships of the alewife (Pomolobus
pseudoharengus, Wilson) in Seneca Lake, New York. Trans. Am. Fish. Soc. 64: 118 -
124.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Pritchard, A. L. 1929. The alewife in Lake Ontario. Univ. Toronto Stud. Biol. Ser. 33:
39 - 54.

Smith, H. M. 1907. The fishes of North Carolina, N. C. Geol. Econ. Surv. 2: 1 - 453.

Smith, S. 1968. That little pest — the alewife. Limnos 1: 12 - 20.

Vladykov, V. 1956. Fecundity of wild speckled trout (Salvelinus fontinalis) in
Quebec Lakes. J. Fish. Res. Board Can. 13: 799 - 841.

THE PARASITOIDS OF THE EUROPEAN PINE SAWFLY
NEODIPRION SERTIFER (GEOFFROY)
(HYMENOPTERA: DIPRIONIDAE), IN WISCONSIN,
WITH KEYS TO ADULTS AND LARVAL REMAINS

Mark E. Kraemer
and Harry C. Coppel

University of Wisconsin — Madison

ABSTRACT

Thirteen species of hymenopterous parasitoids
have been reared from Neodiprion sertifer
(Geoffroy) in Wisconsin. Pleolophus basizonus
Grav. was reared for the first time in Wisconsin. Two illustrated
keys based on the adults and remains left in the host cocoon have
been prepared to aid in the separation of these parasitoids. Brief
notes on the biology of each species are also presented.

INTRODUCTION

The European pine sawfly, Neodiprion sertifer (Geoffroy) has
been in North America since at least 1925, spreading from New
Jersey to southwest Ontario and west to Iowa and Missouri. It was
first reported in Wisconsin, near Lake Geneva, in 1972 (Mertins and
Coppel 1974).

The hosts of the sawfly include most species of two-needled pines.
The favored hosts in the Lake States region are Scotch pine, Pinus
sylvestris L.; red pine, Pinus resinosa Ait.; and jackpine, Pinus
banksiana Lamb. (Wilson 1966). Trees of all ages are defoliated but
those in exposed locations are most severely attacked. Tree
mortality is rare as feeding is confined to previous year foliage and
there is only one sawfly generation per year (Wilson 1971).
However, growth loss and deformation, especially of Christmas tree
stock makes this pest a serious threat to Wisconsin pine forests and
plantations.

This paper, deals with the known parasitoids of A. sertifer. Keys
are presented for the separation of the adult parasitoids and of the
remains left in the host cocoon after parasitoid emergence.
Descriptions of the adults, final larval instar cephalic structures
and spiracles are given, with notes on the biology of the parasitoids.

91

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METHODS

The parasitoid material upon which the keys were based
consisted of adults preserved in alcohol and parasitoid remains
from cocoons positively associated with the parasitoids emerging
from them. The key to parasitoid remains is based on the absence or
presence, and appearance of the parasitoid cocoon, and the cast of
the last instar larval skin. Cocoons from which parasitoids had
emerged were sliced open near the end closest to the emergence
hole, to observe the location and appearance of the contents. The last
larval skins were removed from the host cocoon, softened in warm
10% KOH for 10-30 minutes and rinsed in distilled water. The skins
were spread during rinsing and mounted in a non-resinous
mounting medium.

Illustrations of the larval head capsules and spiracles were made
with the aid of a [Reichert] binocular compound microscope.
Measurements were made with a [Reichert] ocular micrometer
calibrated with a stage micrometer. Illustrations of adults and
gross characters of larval remains were made with the aid of a
[Bausch and Lomb] binocular dissecting microscope. Terminology
used for the parts of the cephalic structures and spiracles of final
instar parasitoid larvae follows Finlayson (1960).

Parasitoids Obtained

The following 13 species of Hymenoptera were reared from
Neodiprion sertifer cocoons originating at four sites in southeastern
Wisconsin, in Walworth, Kenosha, and Racine Counties:
Ichneumonidae: Exenterus amictorius (Panzer), Exenterus
nigrifrons rohwer , Pleo tophus basizonus Gravenhorst, Pleolophus
indistincta (Provancher), Endasys subclavatus (Say), Mastrus
aciculatus (Provancher), Agrothereutes lophyri (Norton),
Delomerista japonica diprionis Cushman
Eulophidae: Dahlbominus fuscipennis (Zetterstedt)

Eupelmidae: Eupelmella vesicularis (Retzius)

Pteromalidae: Dibrachys cavus (Walker)

Habrocytus thyridopterigis Howard
Eurytomidae: Eurytoma pini Bugbee

KEY TO ADULT PARASITOIDS OF N. SERTIFER

1. Antennae geniculate (Chalcidoidea) . . .

Antennae filiform (Ichneumonidae). ......................

1978] Kraemer & Coppel—Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 93

2. (1) Antennae with 10 segments, last 3 fused (Figs. 36, 38) .

. Eurytoma pini

Antennae with 8 or 13 segments . 3

3. (2) Tarsi 4 segmented; antennae with 8 segments (Figs. 25, 26) .

. Dahlbominus fusipennis

Tarsi 5 segmented; antennae with 13 segments, the last three of which
may be fused . 4

4. (3) Wings micropterous (Fig. 28) . Eupelmella vesicularis

Wings well developed . 5

5. (4) Antennal sockets about 2/3 way up between upper and lower eye margins

(Fig. 33) . Habrocytus thyridopterigis

Antennal sockets about even with lower margins of eye (Fig. 29) .

. . . Dibrachys cavus

6. (5) Wings micropterous (Fig. 11) . Pleolophus indistincta

Wings well developed . 7

7. (6) Yellow stripes on abdomen; yellow patches on thorax; ovipositor short and

inconspicuous . 8

No yellow stripes or patches; ovipositor extends beyond tip of the
abdomen and at least one-third as long . 9

8. (7) A large yellow patch on either side of propodeum; all yellow margins of

abdominal tergites less than one-third the length of the tergites .

. Exenterus nigrifrons

No yellow patch on sides of propodeum; yellow margins of tergites I and II
at least 1/3 length of the tergite . Exenterus amictorius

9. (8) Clypeus with a median apical notch (Fig. 21) .

. Delomerista japonica diprionis

Clypeus round or angular apically, never with a median notch

10

10. (9) White band around proximal metatibia; white abdominal tip, meso and
pro coxa; proximal 4 segments of antennal flagellum at least three times
as long as wide (Fig. 19) . Agrothereutes lophyri

Not having all of above

11

11. (10) Meso and pro coxa black . Pleolophus basizonus

Meso and pro coxa brown . 12

12. (11) Apical truncation of scape strongly oblique, 50-70 degrees from
transverse; female hirsute; male with light-brown clypeus (Fig. 16)
. Mastrus aciculatus

Apical truncation of scape weakly oblique or almost transverse, 5-30
degrees from the transverse; female not hirsute; male with black clypeus
(Fig. 13) . Endasys subclavatus

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 66

KEY TO THE PARASITOID OF N. sertifer
BASED ON PARASITOID REMAINS

1. Host cocoon containing parasitoid cocoon . 2

Host cocoon not containing parasitoid cocoon . . . 9

2. (1) Blade of mandible with two rows of teeth, epistomal arch incomplete;

labral sclerite apparent . . . . . 3

Blade of mandible without teeth, epistomal arch complete; labral sclerite
not visible . . . 8

3. (2) Labial sclerite closed dorsally; mandibles with a large posterio-medial

tooth (Fig. 46) . Delomerista japonica diprionis

Labial sclerite open dorsally; mandibles lack a posterio-medial tooth .

. . . . . 4

4. (3) Antennae as wide as long or wider (Fig. 43) . Endasys subclavatus

Antennae longer than wide . . . . . 5

5. (4) Teeth of mandibles of even length and less than 3 pm long; antennae 3-4

times as long as basal width (Fig. 44) . Mastrus aciculatus

Teeth of mandibles of uneven length and up to 6 pm long; antennae less
than three times as long as basal width . . . 6

6. (5) Arms of labral sclerite broad to base (Fig. 41) .

. Pleolophus basizonus

Arms of labral sclerite broad only on ends . 7

7. (6) Antennae less than twice as long as wide; closing apparatus of spiracle

about one-half its total length (Figs. 45, 58) . . .

. Agrothereutes lophyri

Antennae at least twice as long as wide; closing apparatus of spiracle

about one-third its total length (Figs. 42, 55) . . .

. . Pleolophus indistincta

8. (2) Height of epistomal arch above blades of mandibles about one-half its

width at widest point; atrium of spiracle almost as deep as wide and
tapering to stalk (Figs. 39, 52) . Exenterus amictorius

Height of epistomal arch above blades of mandibles about one-third its
width at widest point; atrium of spiracle wider than deep and not
tapering to stalk (Figs. 40, 53) . . . Exenterus nigrifrons

9. (1) Cast skin of last larval instar sparsely covered with long setae .

. . . . . . 10

Cast skin of last larval instar not covered with long setae . . .

11

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 95

10. (9) Mandibles each with a large tooth (Fig. 51) .

......................... . . . . Eurytoma pini

Mandibles each without a large tooth (Fig. 48) . . . .

. . . . Eupelmella vesicularis

11. (9) Atrium of spiracle with at least 10 chambers; antennae domelike (Figs.

47, 60) . . . Dahlbominus fuscipennis

Atrium of spiracle with 4-8; chambers; antennae conelike . 12

12. (11) Cephalic structure of last larval instar with mandibles, epistoma,

pleurostoma, hypostoma, superior and inferior mandibular processes
(Fig. 49) .............. . . . . . Dibrachys cavus

Cephalic structure of last larval instar with only mandibles and

sometimes visible a slightly sclerotized articulation (Fig. 50) .

. . . Habrocytus thyridopterigis

Description

Exenterus amictorius (Panzer)

Figs. 1, 2, 3, 39, 52, 65

This European species was an abundant parasitoid of N. sertifer
only at the Burlington collection site. No specimens were reared
from Bassett, the only other site from which a large ground
collection of cocoons was made. E. amictorius is a larval parasitoid
and thus would not be found at Lake Geneva and Genoa City where
lab reared cocoons, placed in field cages to prevent mammal
predation, were the only source of parasitized cocoons. It is a
solitary, primary parasitoid and emerges from the host cocoon.
Adults are black with yellow markings and in life the eyes have a
greenish sheen. The sex ratio was about 1:1. Females have a single
hypopygial plate whereas males have two, the anterior of which is
bordered by a thin yellow stripe.

The emergence hole is slightly to the side of the end of the host
cocoon, round, irregularly cut, and 2.0-2.5 mm in diameter (Fig. 65).
The parasitoid cocoon nearly conforms to the size and shape of the
host cocoon and is thin, shiny, slightly fuzzy, and white to light pink.
The host remains are outside the parasitoid cocoon, against the
lateral wall Several brown pellets of larval meconium, the
shrivelled yellow last instar larval skin, the transparent white
pupal skin and a mass of white adult meconium are found loose
inside the parasitoid cocoon, at the end opposite the exit hole.

Two species of Exenterus are recorded from N. sertifer in
Wisconsin. A perfect mount is necessary to separate the larvae, and
even then there may be some doubt. The cast skin of the final instar

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larva is covered with minute sharp spicules and a few short setae.
The epistoma of the cephalic structure (Fig. 39) is complete but
never well sclerotized. The stipital sclerites are large and extend
toward the hypostoma. The blade of the mandible is long, slender
and lacks teeth. The atrium of the spiracle tapers toward the stalk
and is about as deep as it is wide (Fig. 52).

Exenterus nigrifrons Rohwer
Figs. 4, 5, 6, 40, 53, 66

This native parasitoid was found in moderate abundance at
Burlington, especially from cocoons spun on the trees. It is a
solitary, primary parasitoid and emerges from the host cocoon. The
adults appear similar to E. amictorius, but may be easily
distinguished by a large yellow spot on either side of the propodeum ,
and by the uniform width of the yellow margins of the abdominal
tergites. The sex ratio was 3 females: 2 males. The emergence hole
(Fig. 66) and parasitoid remains are similar to E. amictorius,
except that the cocoon is never pink. The cephalic structure of the
last larval instar has a lower epistomal arch and shorter lacinial
sclerites than E. amictorius (Fig. 40). The shape of the spiracles
varies considerably within the two Exenterus species; however,
generally Exenterus nigrifrons may be distinguished by the atrium,
which is wider than deep (Fig. 53).

Pleolophus basizonus Gravenhorst
Figs. 7, 8, 9, 41, 54, 67

This European species was recorded for the first time in
Wisconsin. It was the most abundant and most common parasitoid,
being reared from all four collection sites. It is a solitary, primary
parasitoid of the cocooned host larvae, the adults emerging from the
host cocoon. The adults are black and brown with a white spot on the
tip of the abdomen and a white band around the proximal
metathoracic tibia. Females are distinguished by a white band on
the antenna. The sex ratio of reared specimens was 3 females: 2
males.

The emergence hole is to the side of the end of the host cocoon,
round, with a slightly lobed but even margin, and 1. 7-2.0 mm in
diameter (Fig. 67). The parasitoid cocoon is nearly the same size and
shape as the host cocoon, white, thick, fuzzy on the outside and
smooth on the inside. The shrivelled host remains are outside the
parasitoid cocoon and usully at the end of the host cocoon, opposite
the exit hole. At the closed end of the parasitoid cocoon is a mass of
tan to brown larval meconium. The final instar larval skin and

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 97

yellow cast pupal case are usually embedded in the larval
meconium. Light tan adult meconium may be present on top of the

larval meconium.

The larval skin is rough, with scattered small setae. The atrium of
the spiracle is wider than deep (Fig. 54). The cephalic structure
(Fig. 41) lacks a complete epistomal arch. The labial sclerite is
broadened dorsally, where it has numerous vacuoles. The arms of
the labial sclerites are broad. The blade of each mandible is swollen
at the base and has two rows of large irregular teeth.

Pleolophus indistincta (Provancher)

Figs. 10, 11, 42, 55, 68

This native parasitoid was found in very low abundance, but at all
four sites. It is a solitary, primary, cocoon parasitoid. Adults appear
similar to P basizonus except that the former have micropterous
wings. All reared specimens were female. The emergence hole is
similar to P. basizonus but smaller, 1.5-1. 7 mm in diameter (Fig.
68). The parasitoid cocoon is nearly the same size and shape as the
host cocoon, white to grey, and composed of several layers. The outer
layer is slightly fuzzy, the inner smooth, and the area between filled
with loosely spun silk. The host and parasitoid remains are similar
to P. basizonus except for the dark brown larval meconium.

The last larval skin is similar to P. basizonus except for the
spiracles (Fig. 55) which have a slightly tapered atrium, about as
deep as wide, and the cephalic structures (Fig. 42). The labial
sclerite is not widened dorsally and does not have vacuoles. The
arms of the labial sclerite are widened only at the ends. The blades
of the mandibles are not swollen at their bases.

Endasys subclavatus (Say)

Figs. 12, 13, 14, 43, 56, 69

Endasys subclavatus was found in low numbers at all four
collection sites. It is a solitary, primary parasitoid which attacks
and emerges from the host cocoon. Adults are black with brown
coxae and abdomens. The apical truncation of the scape is strongly
oblique. Females are hirsute. Males of Mastrus aciculatus appear
very similar but may be distinguished by careful examination of the
apical truncation of the scape which is almost transverse. The sex
ratio of Endasys subclavatus from reared specimens was 4 females:
3 males.

The emergence hole (Fig. 69) is usually oval, 1.6 x 1.9 mm in
diameter, but sometimes round, and located near the tip of the host
cocoon. The shrivelled host remains are opposite the exit hole and

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outside the parasitoid cocoon. This cocoon is nearly the same size
and shape as the host cocoon, smoky to black, and layered, the
outside smooth, the inside slightly fuzzy. At the closed end is a mass
of dark red-brown to black pellets of larval meconium. The larval
skin and light yellow pupal case are free inside the cocoon. Chunks
of white, chalky adult meconium may also be present.

The delicate larval skin is smooth except for minute papillae and
scarce small setae. The spiracular stalk has a short neck and large
closing apparatus (Fig. 56). The cephalic structure has an
incomplete epistoma, lacks lacinial sclerites, has a labial sclerite
with widened dorsal arms and a labral sclerite which extends over
the mandibles. The labial and maxillary palpi each have one large
and one small sensor ium. The antennae are as wide at the base as

long (Fig. 43). Mastrus aciculatus (Provancher)

Figs. 15, 16, 17, 44, 57, 70

Mastrus aciculatus was reared in low numbers but was found at
all collection sites. It is a solitary, primary parasitoid of the
cocooned larvae. Adults appear similar to E. subclavatus and may
be distinguished by the weakly oblique or almost transverse apical
truncations of the scape. Females are not hirsute. The sex ratio of
reared specimens was 4 females: 3 males.

The emergence hole is round, slightly irregular, 1.5-1. 9 mm in
diameter and located the farthest from the end of the host cocoon of
all ichneumonid parasitoids reared (Fig. 70). The parasitoid cocoon
is nearly the same length as the host cocoon but flattened on one side
near the host remains. The cocoon is white and composed of several
layers. The outer layer varies from loose silk to fuzzy and the inner
layer is shiny and smooth. A light brown mass of larval meconium
pellets is at the closed end of the parasitoid cocoon. The final larval
instar skin and light yellow pupal case are free in the parasitoid
cocoon. A mass of light tan, grainy, adult meconium may also be
present.

The larval skin is covered with minute papillae and scattered
setae. The atrium of the spiracle (Fig. 57) is goblet-shaped and the
stalk is long. The cephalic structure (Fig. 44) has an incomplete
epistoma and labral sclerite which is slightly arched down over the
mandibles. The antennae are long and narrow.

Agr other eutes lophyri (Norton)

Figs. 18, 19, 20, 45, 58, 71

Agrothereutes lophyri was reared in low numbers from Bassett
and Burlington. It is a solitary, primary cocoon parasitoid. Adults

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly

99

have white tibiae and each has a wide red-brown to orange band
around the abdomen. Females are distinguished by a white band
around the antennae. The sex ratio of reared specimens was 2
females: 1 male.

The emergence hole is near the tip of the host cocoon, irregularly
round, and 1.6-2.0 mm in diameter (Fig. 71). The host remains are in
the end of the host cocoon opposite the exit hole. The parasitoid
cocoon is white, thin, brittle, and nearly the size and shape of the
host cocoon. The outside is rough and the inside smooth and shiny. A
mass of brown to dark red-brown larval meconium fills the end of
the parasitoid cocoon opposite the emergence hole. The last instar
larval skin, transparent white pupal skin, and white brittle chunks
of adult meconium are loose inside the parasitoid cocoon.

The last instar larval skin is covered with minute conical spines
and scattered setae. The spiracular atrium tapers to a short stalk.
The closing apparatus is large and transversed by reticulations
(Fig. 58). The head capsule is brown and the cephalic structure
includes a sclerotized prelabium, long stipital sclerites extending
close to the hypostomal arms and mandibles each with two rows of
large teeth (Fig. 45).

Delomerista japonic a diprionis Cushman
Figs. 21, 22, 23, 46, 59, 72

Delomerista japonica diprionis was reared only from cocoons on
Burlington trees. Here, the parasitoid was of moderate importance.
It is a solitary, primary, cocoon parasitoid. Adults are black with
brown legs. The abdomen is about twice the length of the thorax.
Males are easily distinguished by their white faces. The sex ratio of
reared specimens was 7 females: 6 males.

The emergence hole is close to the tip of the host cocoon,
irregularly cut, and round, 1.9-2.5 mm in diameter (Fig. 72). A
brown, leathery parasitoid cocoon walls off the host remains, on the
side, and is usually complete and closely appressed to the host
cocoon. The parasitoid remains are loose inside and consist of dark
red-brown pellets of larval meconium, light yellow pupal case,
yellow-brown final instar larval skin, and white chalky chunks of
adult meconium.

The larval skin is covered with small conical papillae and
numerous setae. The spiracles are funnel-shaped and have thick
walls (Fig. 59). The head capsule is brown and heavily sclerotized.
The epistoma of the cephalic structure is incomplete. The bow¬
shaped labral sclerite, epistoma, and pleurostoma are lightly
sclerotized. The labial sclerite is closed dorsally (Fig. 46).

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Dahlbominus fuscipennis (Zetterstedt)

Figs. 24, 25, 26, 47, 60, 73

' Dahlbominus fuscipennis is a common and sometimes abundant
parasitoid. It is gregarious (ave. 31, max. 59) and usually primary.
In one case it was hyperparasitic (6 adults) on P. basizonus. The
adults are easily recognized by the centrally infumate forewings.
Males are distinguished by the shape of the antennae. The first
three segments of the flagellum have long appendages.

The emergence hole is irregular, round, and 0.6-0.8 mm in
diameter (Fig. 73). There may be two or three holes, usually on the
side near an end. There is no parasitoid cocoon. Inside the host
cocoon are the shrivelled host remains, surrounded by the
parasitoid remains, small masses of brown larval meconia, broken
yellow pupal skins and small, white, threadlike larval skins.

The larval skin is smooth. The spiracles (Fig. 60) are funnel-
shaped, each with a long stalk. The cephalic structure (Fig. 47)
includes only dome-shaped antennae and mandibles each with a
long, straight, toothless blade.

Eupelmella vesicularis (Retzius)

Figs. 27, 28, 48, 61, 74

Eupelmella vesicularis is a rare parasitoid of N. sertifer in
Wisconsin. Only four specimens were reared. This solitary cocoon
parasitoid was primary on N. sertifer in two cases and hyper¬
parasitic through D. fuscipennis and Habrocytus thyridopterigis
Howard the other two instances. Adults have reduced wings and
enlarged metathoracic legs. All reared specimens were females.

The exit hole (Fig. 74) is near the tip of the host cocoon, evenly cut,
and oblong, 0.8 x 1.0 mm. Although there is no parasitoid cocoon, a
small white mat is attached to the inside of the host cocoon. Clausen
(1940) believed that these mats protect the young larvae from the
primary parasitoids upon which they will feed. Also present in the
host cocoon are a dark red-brown mass of larval meconium pellets, a
yellow final instar larval skin, and a golden-yellow pupal case.

The larval skin is smooth except for a few long setae. The spiracles
(Fig. 61) are funnel-shaped with a least 14 chambers. The cephalic
structure (Fig. 48) consists of a prominent 8-toothed clypeus,
mandibles and two short, lightly sclerotized bars to which the
mandibles have an inferior articulation.

Dibrachys cavus (Walker)

Figs. 29, 30, 31, 49, 62, 75

Dibrachys cavus was reared only from cocoons collected on the

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 101

trees at Burlington. Despite its limited distribution, it ranked
fourth in abundance among all parasitoids collected. It is a
gregarious (ave. 23.7, max. 51) cocoon parasitoid and is usually
associated with another parasitoid. It is often (1 in 5) hyperparasitic
on E. amictorius, E. subclavatus , or M. aciculatus. The number of
adults produced in hyperparasitic attacks, 23.2, is similar to
primary attack. Successful multiparasitism with H. thyridopterigis
occurred in one-third of all D. cavus rearings. The average number
of adult D. cavus was 7.2 per cocoon. Adults are dark green. Males
are easily distinguished, each with a light yellow band around the
abdomen. The sex ratio favored females 3.6: 1.0.

The emergence hole (Fig. 75) is round, 0.7-0.9 mm in diameter,
and on the side or near the end of the host cocoon. Two emergence
holes may be present. There is no parasitoid cocoon. Loose inside the
host cocoon are small masses of brown to black larval meconium,
broken golden-yellow pupal cases, and small white thread-like final
instar larval skins.

The larval skin is smooth and featureless except for the 4-5
chambered spiracles (Fig. 62) and the cephalic structure (Fig. 49).
The mandibles each have a toothless blade and articulate with
inferior and superior mandibular processes. The epistoma is
incomplete and the hypostoma short. The conical antennae are not
set in obvious sockets.

Habrocytus thyridopterigis Howard
Figs. 32, 33, 34, 50, 63, 76

Habrocytus thyridopterigis was found, like D. cavus, only in
cocoons collected on Burlington trees. It is a gregarious cocoon
parasitoid. It may function as a primary parasitoid (ave. 8.5 per
cocoon, max. 13) but usually is associated with D. cavus and
occasionally D. fuscipennis in successful multiparasitism (ave. 2.9,
max. 7).

It is occasionally found as a hyperparasitoid (ave. 4.0, max. 4) on
E. subclavatus and M. aciculatus. The adults are metallic green and
slightly larger than D. cavus. Males each have a creamy white band
around the abdomen. The sex ratio favored females 3.2: 1.0.

The emergence hole is round, 0.8-1. 1 mm in diameter, and usually
on the side of the host cocoon, near an end (Fig. 76). No parasitoid
cocoons are present. The parasitoid remains are similar to those of
D. cavus but are slightly larger and their pupal skins are brownish-
yellow. The final instar larval skin is smooth except for spiracles

102

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

and the cephalic structure. The spiracles taper to the closing
apparatus, the 6-8 chambers often appearing subdivided (Fig. 63).
The cephalic structure includes antennae set in large antennal
sockets and mandibles each with a row of fine teeth. The mandible
has one visible articulation point with the small lateral sclerite (Fig.
50).

Eurytoma pini Bugbee
Figs. 35, 36, 37, 38, 51, 64, 77

Only one specimen of Eurytoma pini was reared. It was a solitary,
primary parasitoid. The adult, a female, was shiny black with 10-
segmented antennae. The round, smoothly cut exit hole was on the
side of the host cocoon, near the middle and was 1.1 mm in diameter
(Fig. 77). No parasitoid cocoon was spun. The parasitoid remains
were loose in the host cocoon and consisted of a mass of brown larval
meconium pellets, a yellow final instar larval skin, and a golden-
yellow pupal case.

The larval skin has a sparse covering of long setae, each about 0.2
mm long. The spiracles are large and funnel-shaped (Fig. 64). The
cephalic structure (Fig. 51) includes an incomplete epistoma, long
inferior mandibular processes, long narrow hypostomal arms,
mandibles each with a long curved blade and a conspicuous large
medial tooth, and well sclerotized antennae.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Research was supported by the College of Agricultural and Life Sciences,
University of Wisconsin-Madison, and in part by the Wisconsin Department of
Natural Resources through the School of Natural Resources. The authors are
Research Assistant and Professor of Entomology and Forestry, respectively,
University of Wisconsin-Madison.

The authors wish to express their appreciation to R. W. Carlson, G. Gordh, and R.
Smith of the Insect Identification and Beneficial Insect Introduction Institute of the
USDA for the parasitoid identifications.

REFERENCES CITED

Clausen, C.P. 1940. Entomophagous insects. McGraw-Hill Book Co., N.Y. and
London, 688 p.

Finlayson, T. 1960. Taxonomy of cocoons and puparia, and their contents, of
Canadian parasites of Neodiprion sertifer (Geoff.) (Hym.: Diprionidae). Can.
Entomol. 92: 20-47.

Mertins, J.W., and H. C. Coppel. 1974. History of biological control attempts against
insects and weeds in Wisconsin. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts and Lett. 62: 115-132.
Townes, H. 1969. Genera of Ichneumonidae. Mem. Amer. Entomol. Inst. No. 12.

Cushing-Malloy, Inc., Ann Arbor, Mich. 537 p.

Wilson, L. P. 1966. Effects of different population levels of the European pine sawfly
on young Scotch pine trees. J. Econ. Entomol. 59: 1043-1049.

Wilson, L. F. 1971. European pine sawfly. Forest Pest Leaflet, USDA Forest
Service. 6 p.

1978] Kraemer & Coppel—Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 103

Figures 1-6. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer. 1-3, Exenterus
amictorius; 1, head capsule, frontal view; 2, female, lateral view; 3, male abdomen,
lateral view. 4-6, Exenterus nigrifrons; 4, head capsule, frontal view; 5, female,
lateral view; 6, male abdomen, lateral view. Courtesy of J.W. Mertins, U. W.-
Madison.

104

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Figures 7-11. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer. 7-9, Pleolophus
basizonus; 7, head capsule, frontal view; 8, female, lateral view; 9, male abdomen,
lateral view. 10, 11, Pleolophus indistincta; 10, head capsule, frontal view; 11, female,
lateral view. Redrawn from Townes (1969).

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 105

Figures 12-17. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer. 12-14, Endasys
subclavatus; 12, head capsule, frontal view; 13, female lateral view, 14, male
abdomen, lateral view. 15-17, Mastrus aciculatus; 15, head capsule, frontal view; 16,
female, lateral view; 17, male abdomen, lateral view. Redrawn from Townes (1969).

106

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Figures 18-23. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer. 18-20, Agrothereutes
lophyri; 18, head capsule, frontal view; 19, female, lateral view; 20 male abdomen,
lateral view. 21-23, Delomerista japonica diprionis; 21, head capsule, frontal view;
22, female, lateral view; 23 male abdomen, lateral view. Courtesy of J. W. Mertins,
U.W. -Madison.

1978] Kraemer & Coppel — Parasiloids of European Pine Sawfly 107

Figures 24-31. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer. 24-26, Dahlbominus
fuscipennis; 24, head capsule, frontal view; 25, female, lateral view; 26, male
antenna, lateral view. 27-28, Eupelmella vesicularis; 27, head capsule, frontal view;
28, female, lateral view. 29-31, Dibrachys cavus; 29, head capsule, frontal view; 30,
female, lateral view; 31, male abdomen, lateral view. Courtesy of J.W. Mertins,
U.W.-Madison.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters

[Vol. 66

Figures 32-38. Adult hymenopterous parasitoids of N. sertifer . 32-34, Habrocytus
thyridopterigis ; 32, head capsule, frontal view; 33, female, lateral view; 34, male
abdomen, lateral view. 35-38, Eurytoma pini; 35, head capsule, frontal view; 36,
female, lateral view; 37, male abdomen, lateral view; 38, male antenna, lateral view.
Courtesy of J. W. Mertins, U.W.-M&dison.

1978] Kraemer & Coppel—Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 109

Figures 39-46. Cephalic structures of final instar ichneumonids; frontal views. 39,
Exenterus amictorius; 40, Exenterus nigrifrons; 41, Pleolophus basizonus; 42,
Pleolophus indistincta; 43, Endasys subclavatus; 44, Mastrus aciculatus; 45,
Agrothereutes lophyri; 46, Delomerista japonica diprionis.

110

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Figures 47-51. Cephalic structures of final instar chalcidoids; frontal views. 47,
Dahlbominus fuscipennis; 48, Eupelmella vesicularis; 49, Dibrachys cavus; 50,
Habrocytus thyridopterigis ; 51, Eurytoma pini.

1978] Kraemer & Compel — Parasitoids of European Pine Sawfly 111

Figures 52-64. Spiracles of final instar hymenopterans. 52, Exenterus amictorius; 53,
Exenterus nigrifrons ; 54, Pleo tophus basizonus; 55, Pleolophus indistincta; 56,
Endasys subclavatus; 57, Mastrus aciculatus; 58, Agrothereutes lophyri; 59,
Delomerista japonica diprionis; 60, Dahlbominus fuscipennis; 61, Eupelmella
vesicularis; 62, Dibrachys cavus; 63, Habrocytus thyridopterigis ; 64, Eurytoma pini.

112

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

5 MM

Figures 65-77. N. sertifer cocoons showing parasitoid emergence holes. 65 ,Exenterus
amictorius; 66, Exenterus nigrifrons; 67, Pleolophus basizonus; 68, Pleophus
indistincta; 69, Endasys subclavatus 70, Mastrus aciculatus; 71, Agrothereutes
lophyri; 72, Delomerista japonica diprionis; 73, Dahlbominus fuscipennis; 74,
Eupelmetla vesicularis; 75, Dibrachys cavus; 76, Habrocytus thyridopterigis; 77,
Eurytoma pini.

THE ETHNIC IMPACT OF WILSON’S WAR:
THE GERMAN-AMERICAN IN
MARATHON COUNTY, 1912-1916

James J. Lorence

University of Wisconsin Center
Marathon County

This paper explores the impact of
ethnic background on the political
attitudes and voter behavior of
Marathon County’s German-Americans during the early years of
World War I. Long before the outbreak of the European conflict, the
German presence in the county had been well-established as
German-Americans became the dominant local ethnic group.
Marathon County was settled largely by peasants from the
agricultural districts of northeast Germany. The heart of this
settlement was to be found in the townships of Hamburg, Berlin,
Maine, Stettin, Cassel, Marathon, Wien, Wausau, and Rib Falls.
For example two of the most heavily German townships in the state
of Wisconsin, Hamburg and Berlin, were over 90 per cent German
and overwhelmingly Democratic in political preferences.1

It is impossible to overestimate the significance of ethnicity in
explaining voter behavior in Wisconsin at the turn of the century.
While recent studies note that native-born Americans enjoyed great
influence and the lion’s share of participatory roles in local and
regional politics, it is also clear that voter preferences were strongly
influenced by religious and nationality background. In Marathon
County, this meant that the strongest Democratic areas were those
in which a majority of family heads or their parents had been born
in Germany, Poland, or Bohemia. This trend replicated statewide
voting patterns: “the basis of voting support for the Democratic
Party in all sections of the state came from both Catholic and
Protestant Germans and from other predominantly Catholic and
often ‘new’ immigrant groups.”2

Consistent with this pattern, German-American strongholds in
Marathon County continued to reward an essentially conservative
Wisconsin Democratic Party with their votes during the early La

113

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Follette years. The remarkable fact was not shrinking Democratic
margins, but rather the stubborn dissent of a robust minority in the
face of the statewide Progressive tide. Thus, German-American
reservations over Progressive reform, particularly on the explosive
“social issues,” prevented the creation of a strong and permanent
Progressive organization that might have replaced the dominant
Stalwart Republicans in Marathon County. And the resurgence of
the Democratic Party after 1910 was a predictable and significant
political development.

The Roosevelt revolt of 1912 and the attendant disruption of the
national Republican Party gave the Democrats their golden
opportunity in the Presidential election of that year. Due to the
chaos on the Republican side, Wisconsin Democrats viewed the
prospects for both state and national offices optimistically.
Progressive Democrats rallied behind the candidacy of the New
Jersey insurgent, Woodrow Wilson; but true to form, Marathon
County preferred the more conservative candidate, Champ Clark of
Missouri. While Wilson won the Wisconsin primary handily,
Marathon County, chose Clark by a 250 vote margin.3 However, in
the general election the county cast its lot with the victorious
Wilson, although the tally documents Republican disunity as much
as Democratic recovery. The swing to Wilson also reflected his
generally positive image in the German-American press, which
reminded readers that the Democratic candidate opposed prohibi¬
tion and favored humane treatment of immigrants, positions which
counted heavily in Marathon County. Of equal significance was a
little-noted footnote to the 1912 campaign that held serious
implications for future voter trends in the county. Brushed aside
were the 600 votes cast for Socialist Eugene Debs, whose strong
showing in Wausau’s heavily German Eighth Ward was a
harbinger of things to come.4

The link between ethnic background and protest voting was
destined to become a prominent characteristic of Wisconsin voters,
as wartime pressure on German-Americans escalated. Prejudice
against the war ran deep, and the eventual American involvement
was greeted with bitter opposition. Many Marathon County citizens
resented “the suspicion with which they were often regarded, their
enforced registration as alien enemies, and the hatred suddenly
poured upon their most harmless and cherished institutions.”5

The German-American revulsion at the thought of hostilities with
the fatherland weighed heavy on the mind of the Secretary of State

1978]

Lorence — Ethnic Impact of Wilson's War

115

William Jennings Bryan when he stumped for the Democratic
ticket in Wausau during the campaign of 1914. Doubtless aware of
the German vote in the county, the “Great Commoner” dwelt upon
Wilson's commitment to a policy of strict neutrality, which would
allow the United States eventually to act as mediator. He linked a
vote for Democrats Paul Husting, A. C. Schmidt, and John C. Karel
with loyalty to the President and all he stood for, including peace.6

Fortunately for Husting, the campaign of 1914 coincided with
heavy Progressive infighting, which ended in the elevation of the
conservative Republican Emanuel Philipp, to the governorship. In
the senatorial contest, the La Follette organization refused to
support rival Progressive Francis McGovern in November,
Enjoying the tacit cooperation of “Fighting Bob,” the Democratic
aspirant earned a ticket to Washington and an opportunity to
vindicate his president. In Marathon County Husting easily
outdistanced the divided opposition in another good year for local
Democrats. The victor was blissfully unaware of the complex
problems he would soon face as Woodrow Wilson's supporter, when
the administration's foreign policy came under attack from the
county's substantial German community.7

And influential it was. As the European horror deepened, the
militant German-American Alliance swung into action with a
vigorous campaign opposing the extension of loans by local banks to
foreign governments. After the Wilson Administration's decision to
allow American loans to the belligerents, the Marathon County
Bankers’ Association declared its determination to avoid such
transactions. The bankers, doubtless aware of the Wausau
Alliance’s open threat of a boycott against institutions participating
in foreign loans, committed themselves to a policy of expending
investment capital on home business and agriculture. On the very
day that a New York banking group completed negotiations for the
first major American loan to the allies, the Alliance warmly
commended the county’s banks for their vision in taking a stand “in
accordance with [its] principles” and graciously described them as
“entitled to public confidence and support.”8

Evidence of the organization's influence surfaced in December,
1915, when Wausau played host to C. J. Hexamer, president of the
national Alliance. At a meeting of his countrymen which filled the
Opera House to capacity, Dr. Hexamer condemned “disgraceful
truckling to Great Britain” in American economic and foreign
policy. Denouncing as “incredible” the pro-British press that “dare

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [VoL 66

[d] to question the loyalty of the German- American,” he exhorted his
enthusiastic audience to stand for its ideals. Democratic leaders
John Ringle and Judge Louis Marchetti participated in the
program, the latter promoting the German Relief Fund already
raising monies in the county. The Judge’s comments clearly
indicated the generosity of Marathon County citizens towards their
homeland.9

So influential was the Alliance that Frank Leuschen, prominent
Wilson supporter and editor of the Marathon Times , charged it with
responsibility for the vituperative attacks on the administration in
the German press. Especially vicious after the sinking of the
Lusitania, these criticisms were traced to the insidious
machinations of the German National Alliance in New York. To
Leuschen, one thing was certain: his “German friends . . . most
bitter in their denunciations and clamor against Wilson” were
members of the organization.10

The escalation of German-American criticism came to public
attention in May, 1915, after Senator Husting published an
impassioned defense of the administration’s foreign policy in the
Milwaukee Journal. The popular Democrat’s statement stressed
strict adherence to America’s rights under international law and
Wilson’s impartiality in dealing with violations of neutral rights.
Seizing the initiative, he charged the critics with “base and cruel
slander on the President,” and castigated American citizens who
promoted “foreign propaganda which [had] for its object and end
the plunging of this country into war with one side or the other.”11

The Senator’s ideas did not go down well everywhere. Already a
division of opinion on Wilson’s policies was emerging in Marathon
County, particularly in response to his insistence upon maximum
economic freedom in the allied market. Reservations were
expressed in early 1915, with a petition drive spearheaded by M.
Gillmann of Marathon City in support of House Resolution 377,
designed to halt the export of war supplies to the European
belligerents. Treading a narrow line as a Democratic editor in a
German community, Leuschen “cheerfully” complied with
Gillmann’s request that he publish the memorial in the Times
though he personally saw little value in an embargo. Faced with a
German readership, the Marathon journalist kept to a cautious
course. While he stood firm with Wilson on neutral rights, he
acknowledged that it was “foolish to talk about being neutral as far
as our heart is concerned.” All the same, as good American citizens

1978]

Lorence — Ethnic Impact of Wilson's War

117

his readers were obligated to control these national feelings” and
resist the temptation “to say or do anything radical in this hour of
trial” But after issuing instructions in moderation, Leuschen
ignored his own advice and played to his audience. The editor now
expressed his conviction that “as for Germany . . . rest assured that
they will not be crushed in this struggle; for God will not permit this
nation of thinkers and scientists, of art, culture and education to be
annihilated.”12 Wilson supporters in German areas were clearly in a
delicate position.

Leuschen’s anxieties were temporarily relieved by Senator
Hustings articulate expression of the administration’s position, “an
explanation of our Wilson neutrality” that the Marathon Democrat
welcomed as “the best thing” he had read since the “damnable war
began.” He fervently hoped that all German-Americans would read
it as antidote to some of the propaganda then circulating. This
concern was political: the hostility of German-Americans was a
threat to the future of the President’s party in Marathon County,
where “at Wausau and in every other village and town,” the feeling
against the administration was “something terrible.”13

Sympathy for Senator Husting’s stand also emerged in other
county communities such as Athens, where J. I. Scott of the Record
endorsed it as a “rebuke to our Wisconsin ‘Copperhead’ patriotism
that has long been needed.” Nonetheless, it was the cooperation of
the Marathon Times that intrigued the junior senator from
Wisconsin, who sensed that Leuschen was a valuable political ally.
Husting’s faith in the “good judgement of our American citizens”
led him to encourage the widespread dissemination of Leuschen’s
views, and even to contemplate a campaign aimed at the suspicious
German- American community. Regarding his Marathon cor¬
respondent as an expert in such matters, he appealed for counsel on
an effort to get his message before the German voter. Convinced of
its political value, the Times editor in turn urged further
distribution of the article “to show our German friends the other side
of the question.” For his part, the local Democratic leader pledged to
do “all in my power here in my little community to hold our
Democratic friends in line,” laughing off his Republican neighbors,
who “hate me heartily for it, because I am too much for them.”14

True to his word, Leuschen wasted little time in promoting the
Democratic cause. Picturing Wilson as trapped between conflicting
pressure groups, the Times extolled the President’s virtues as a
force for sanity in a world gone mad. Fresh from a Wilson

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

appearance in Milwaukee, Leuschen attacked the Republican press
for its “tirades against Wilson.” Signaling the dawn of a political
year, he also reminded Marathon voters that the administration had
brought widespread prosperity while preserving an honorable
peace.15

So meshed with foreign policy was German-American politics by
1916 that any stability in the Wisconsin German vote was shattered
in the presidential election. Sympathy for Republican Charles
Evans Hughes was connected with an unwillingness to forgive
Wilson’s belligerence simply because he had avoided war. When the
votes were tallied in November, the effect of ethnicity was striking.
While Wilson lost the Badger State by a margin of 42-49 per cent,
Marathon County voters deserted the President in droves— a
dramatic turnabout from his 1912 success. Hughes’ edge of 57-36
per cent may be directly attributed to massive defections in
Democratic wards and towns, most notably in German areas. While
Wilson had carried nineteen of twenty-five German townships in
1912, twenty-two of those towns went Republican in 1916.16

Contrary to the voting pattern in German strongholds, another
trend emerged in townships dominated by other customarily
Democratic ethnic groups. Areas dominated by recent immigrant
stock (particularly the Polish and Bohemians in Mosinee, Pike
Lake, and to an extent, Cassel), held firm for Wilson in accordance
with traditional voter preferences. And the Irish enclave in Emmet
delivered a comfortable plurality for the beleaguered President,
though his 1916 margin was more modest than that recorded in
1912. Thus, ethnicity was a two-edged sword in Wilson’s re-election
effort, and the foreign policy issue was a negligible factor in non-
German areas.17

The widespread desertion of the Democratic presidential
candidate suggests that German-American voters reversed their
political loyalties as the United States inched its way closer to war
with the fatherland. As this brief investigation has demonstrated,
Marathon County Germans had come to believe that the President
had abandoned the course of perfect neutrality in the period from
1914 to 1916. Hence, it was predictable that once America became
an active belligerent in April, 1917, his former supporters would
have little difficulty in perceiving the conflict as “Wilson’s war.”18

The attribution of this political revolution to ethnicity must be
qualified, however, in the absence of a more scientific examination
of the voter trends. A systematic model for the analysis of the data

1978]

Lorence— Ethnic Impact of Wilson’s War

119

would require a consideration of such variables as income level,
taxable property, recency of in-migration, and religious
preferences. Such a sophisticated study offers a potentially fruitful
area of inquiry for future investigations.

Despite this caveat, these tentative conclusions are supported by
events in the wake of World War I. Not only would German-
American voters express their hostility to an increasingly op¬
pressive establishment in a wave of Socialist protest votes between
1918 and 1920, but the surprising conversion of many to the cause of
La Follette Progressivism after 1920 would stand as evidence of
lingering resentments harbored by Marathon County’s most
influential ethnic minority. The foreign policy crisis of the Wilson
years cast a long shadow over the politics of the postwar era.

!Roger Wyman, “Voting Behavior in the Progressive Era: Wisconsin As a Test
Case,” (Ph. D. dissertation, Dept, of History, University of Wisconsin, 1970), p. 513;
Harold E. Miner, etal, History of Wausau (Wausau: Centennial Project, 1939), p. 30.
For full discussion of the source and nature of German immigration in Wisconsin, see
Kate Everest Levi, “Geographical Origins of German Immigration to Wisconsin,” in
Wisconsin Historical Collections , Vol. XIV, and Albert Bernhart Faust, The Qerman
Element in the United States, Vol. I (Milwaukee, Steuben Society, 1927). The
following table summarizes the national origins of the foreign born in Marathon
County at various periods in the twentieth century.

Foreign-Born in Marathon County, 1870-1940

Source: United States Census, IX-XIX; 1870-1940.

German

Polish

Norwegian Bohemian

English

Native

American

1870

2239

—

73

—

49

—

1880

4387

—

367

—

123

—

1900

8712

1064

420

369

93

—

1910

8807

—

471

—

70

26

1920

5794

1673

393

414

84

45

1930

4477

1555

302

403

54

37

1940

3017

1059

206

214

43

_

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

2Wyman, p. 386.

3The Primary Election of 1910 and the Presidential Primary of 1912, { Madison:
Industrial Commission of Wisconsin, 1912), pp. 20, 152-153; see also Herbert
Marguiles, The Decline of the Progressive Movement in Wisconsin, 1890-1920
(Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1968), pp. 126-128; Louis Marchetti,
History of Marathon County (Chicago: Richmond-Arnold Co., 1913), p. 218. Primary
returns clearly indicate that Clark owed his Marathon County victory to a 400 vote
margin amassed in the city of Wausau, where he had appeared in a “non-political”
capacity in 1911. The Primary Election of 1910 and the Presidential Primary of 1912,
pp. 152-153; Wausau Pilot, March 14, 1911, p. 1; Wausau, Record- Herald, March 21,
1911, p. 1.

4The eighth ward was over 70 per cent German in 1912. Wyman, op. cit., p. 571.

5Miner, p. 146; for full treatment of public opinion and war propaganda during
the war, see Karen Falk, “Public Opinion in Wisconsin During World' War I,”
Wisconsin Magazine of History, XXV (June, 1942), pp. 389-407; see also Falk, “War
Propaganda in Wisconsin 1917-1918,” (Master’s Thesis, Dept, of History, University
of Wisconsin, 1941).

6Over 3000 were in attendance while another 3000 were turned away from the
Opera House event, which proved to be baldly partisan in character. Pilot, Nov. 3,
1914, p. 5.

7 Wisconsin Blue Book, (Madison: 1915), p. 228; Marguiles, pp. 121-122. For
discussion of the Progressive agony of 1914, see Robert Nesbit, Wisconsin: A History
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1973), pp. 430-432.

8 Marathon Times, Oct. 1, 1915, p. 1.

9By December, 1915 over $1300 had been raised by the Wausau Alliance and
forwarded to the national relief fund for use i-n Germany, Record-Herald, Dec. 6,
1915, pp. 1, 4.

10Frank Leuschen to Paul Husting, May 29, 1915, Paul Husting Manuscripts,
Madison, Wisconsin State Historical Society.

nMilwaukee Journal, May 16, 1915, pp. 1, 3.

12After this purple passage, Leuschen concluded that his readers should be
“Americans first, and everything else afterwards.” Marathon Times, Feb. 19, 1915,
p. 1; Jan. 8, 1915, p. 1.

13Leuschen to Husting, May 24, 1915, Husting MSS.

1978]

Lorence— Ethnic Impact of Wilson's War

121

14Leuschen complied with the Senator’s request by publishing liberal excerpts
from the Milwaukee Journal article. He also gave Husting detailed instructions on
how to reach the local press and referred him to potentially sympathetic journalists,
including E. B. Thayer of the Wausau Pilot , and A. Pankow of Marshfield. Leuschen
to Husting, May 29, 1915; Husting to Leuschen, May 22, 1915; J. I. Scott to Husting,
May 18, 1915; Husting to Leuschen, May 27, 1915, Husting MSS.

15Marathon Times , Feb. 8, 1916, p. 1; Jan. 21, 1916, p. 1.

16The following table illustrates the scope of defection in selected German
localities:

VOTE PLURALITIES IN SELECTED GERMAN AREAS-
PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS OF 1912 AND 1916

1912

1916

Hamburg

Wilson-38

Hughes-118

Berlin

Wilson-91

Hughes-108

Maine

Wilson-86

Hughes-76

Stettin

Wilson-59

Hughes-43

Wausau

Wilson-14

Hughes-63

Rib Falls

Wilson-34

Hughes-99

Wausau

Ward 6

Wilson-44

Hughes-43

Ward 7

Wilson-59

Hughes-123

Ward 8

Wilson-34

Hughes-103

Ward 9

Wilson-1

Hughes-81

Source— Wisconsin Blue Book , 1913, pp. 192-193; 1917, p. 216.

It should be noted that 1912 pluralities reflect the impact of the Roosevelt candidacy.
However, in the townships cited, the Progressive garnered only 75 votes; while in the
Wausau wards, his 265 votes were largely offset by 223 cast for Socialist Eugene
Debs. Further comment on the ethnic factor in both Wilson elections may be found in
Marguiles, p. 189, Wyman, 563; and Nesbit, pp. 444-445.

llIbid,

18For full discussion of the permanent impact of the wartime experience on
German-American political preferences, see Howard R. Klueter and James J.
Lorence, Woodlot and Ballot Box: Marathon County in the Twentieth Century
(Wausau: Marathon County Historical Society, 1977), Chapters VI, VII.

122

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

APPENDIX: German- American Voter Preferences
In Marathon County, Wisconsin, 1912-1916 a b

Township

Plurality of
Winner
(1912)

Plurality of
Winner
(1916)

Wilson -
Percent of

Total Vote Cast
(1912)

Winner’s
Percent of
Total Vote Cast

c

Bern

Wd— 23

H — 42

W — 65%

H— 78%

XX

Halsey

W — 19

H — 12

W — 55.7%

H— 67.9%

XX

Hamburg

W — 38

H— 118

W— 56%

H — 89.8%

XX

Berlin

W — 91

H — 108

W — 75%

H— 79%

XX

Maine

W — 88

H — 76

W — 68.8%

H— 67.9%

XX

Texas

W — 2

H-86

W— 34%

H— 74%

XX

Hewitt

T — 23

H — 48

W— 23%

H — 86.8%

X

Harrison

W — 2

W — 2

W — 38.8%

H— 46.9%

X

Holton

T— 10

H — 122

W — 34%

H— 78%

XX

Johnson

W — 13

H — 56

W — 44.5%

H— 64%

X

Rib Falls

W — 34

H — 99

W — 57.6%

H— 75%

XX

Stettin

W— 59

H — 43

W — 59%

H — 61.7%

XX

Wausau

W — 14

H— 63

W — 43.6%

H — 65.9%

XX

Easton

W — 24

H — 63

W — 45%

H— 72.9%

X

Plover

T— 13

H— 30

W — 18%

H — 60.9%

X

Hull

W — 62

H — 1

W— 62%

H — 50%

X

Frankfort

W — 7

H— 61

W — 43.9%

H— 73%

XX

Wien

W — 5

H — 84

W — 48%

H — 78.6%

XX

Cassel

W — 59

W— 46

W — 64%

W— 62%

X

Marathon

W — 36

W — 17

W — 59.8%

W— 55.9%

XX

Rib Mountain

W — 7

H— 26

W — 34.8%

H— 61%

X

Weston

T— 11

H— 19

W — 34%

H— 45%

XX

Ringle

W-l

W-l

W — 41.5%

W— 43%

X

Norrie

W — 17

H — 45

W — 39%

H — 64.5%

X

Brighton

W — 24

H— 57

W— 51.6%

H— 73.7%

X

Rietbrock

T— 16

H— 18

W— 42%

H— 56.6%

—

Mosinee

T — 28

Tie

W— 30%

Tie

—

Elderson

Frazen

R-4

T-15

H— 54
H— 13

W — 33.5%
W — 17.6%

H— 67.7%
H— 58%

—

Eau Pleine

T— 9

H— 28

W— 41%

H— 58%

XX

Cleveland

W — 30

H— 37

W — 52%

H— 61%

XX

Emmet

W — 56

W — 42

W— 64.7%

W— 63.5%

X

Pine Lake

W-ll

W— 159

W — 41%

W— 88.5%

—

Kronenwetter

T— 6

H— 17

W — 39.8%

H— 54%

X

Spencer

McMillan

W-10

H— 41

W— 43%

H — 68%

X

W— 22

H — 27

W— 52%

H— 59.8%

XX

Day

W— 42

H-8

W— 61.8%

H— 52%

XX

Green Valley

—

H— 24

W-

H— 72.5%

XX

Bergen

T— 31

H— 19

W— 30%

H— 58%

XX

Knowlton

T— 40

H— 10

W— 21.8%

H— 52%

X

County

Total

Wilson

1010

Hughes

2161

Wilson

44%

Hughes

57%

1978]

Lorence — Ethnic Impact of Wilson’s War

123

a The identification of townships as German-American was made on the basis of the
findings reported by D. G. Marshall, Department of Rural Sociology, University of
Wisconsin, whose exhaustive study of the “Cultural Background of Wisconsin People
(Nationality Background)” is available at the Wisconsin State Historical Society,
Archives, Madison, Wisconsin. Marshall defined ethnic dominance in terms of the
percentage of family heads of foreign background residing in a particular township.
His figures for 1905, based upon census records, classify townships as heavily-
influenced by an ethnic group in those cases in which 40 per cent or more of family
heads could be identified with that group. The figures for 1938, on the other hand,
reflect more impressionistic estimates made on the basis of interviews with county
residents.

b Source— Wisconsin Blue Book, 1913, 1917.

c Townships marked (x) were German-dominated in 1905 but not in 1938. Those
marked (xx) were German-dominated in both 1905 and 1938.

d Abbreviations: W— Wilson, T— Taft, H— Hughes.

e Pluralities reflect total county votes including results from incorporated places
not shown on chart

STRUGGLE, HUSBANDRY, SEARCH: THREE
HUMANISTIC VIEWS OF LIFE AND LAND

Robert E. Najem

University of Wisconsin— Extension

n American novelist, an American scientist of
French birth, and a French priest and
w JL philosopher look at the land. One considers it
from a regional point of view, another from a global perspective.
The third offers a cosmic vision. I am referring to Willa Gather’s
Death Comes for the Archbishop , Reno Dubos’s A God Within and
Teilhard de Chardin’s Rebuilding the Earth. Each presents a unique
humanistic attitude toward the land and yet a remarkably
complementary one.

One of Willa Gather’s fundamental attitudes toward the land is
developed at the very beginning of her famous novel Death Comes
for the Archbishop (1927). A group of cardinals gather in Rome to
discuss the American southwest territory. Drinking fine old wines
and looking out over the Eternal City, they epitomize the
sophisticated, Old World temperament and Old World view. To
them the southwest territory is a huge expanse of land containing
Mexican Catholics, some Indians, and more Protestant Whites than
Catholics. It is a land to be civilized. These men speak from the
experience of a European civilization that had rounded the hills of
Italy, made England into a manicured countryside, divided Ireland
into patches of green plots, and covered French hillsides with
vineyards. Europe was a land dominated by the human in a happy
blend between human need and sound ecological balance. The
young French priest appointed Bishop of the territory of Santa Fe
brings with him the idea that he must civilize the land and convert
the people. In a sense, the building of his Romanesque church late in
the story symbolizes the imposing of a European way of life on the
American scene. As the young Bishop travels by horseback over his
new diocese, he sees the landscape at times as vast Gothic
structures:

In all his travels the Bishop had seen no country like this.
From the flat red sea of sand rose great rock mesas,
generally gothic in outline, resembling vast cathedrals.1

124

1978]

Najem — Humanistic Views of Life , and Land

125

Wherever he goes the Bishop plants fruit trees and encourages
gardens. There is an apricot tree outside his office that gives him
visual pleasure, delightfully refreshing fruit, and eventually we can
presume, a brandy or liqueur. The Bishop and Brother Joseph
helped introduce the espalier technique of carefully pruning and
guiding branches of fruit trees along a trellis or wall, providing
convenience and beauty. In a region where water is not plentiful and
trees are not numerous, the land is made to yield of its bounty.
Cultivation and order become synonymous:

Some subterranean stream found an outlet here, was
released from darkness. The result was grass and trees
and flowers and human life: household order and hearths
from which the smoke of burning pinon logs rose like
incense to heaven.2

In many of her books Willa Gather stresses the struggle between
humans and the environment. Claude Wheeler, the central
character of One of Ours , contends with the elements to farm his
midwestern land and, like the Bishop, to impose order on it. When
he reaches France in World War 1, he is amazed and pleased by the
beauty of the cultivated landscape soon to contrast with the desolate
mud holes of the trenches. After the passage of many years,
Antonia, the Bohemian immigrant in My Antonia , discusses with
the narrator her happy family, her farm, and especially her
orchards. Again, in 0 Pioneers we have the theme of struggle to
impose order on a hostile environment, an order that a rampaging
nature can wreck in moments. Wherever we read in Gather, there is
respect for the land, a fondness for the manicured European
countryside, a portrayal of the struggle to impose order on the land.
The Bishop reflects also Willa Gather’s tolerance for the different.
On one of his numerous visits throughout his vast diocese, he travels
with a young Navajo guide. The young Indian carefully leaves each
campsite as it was found — there is no trace of human passage. He
leaves the land in order.

When they left the rock or tree or sand dune that had
sheltered them for the night, the Navajo was careful to
obliterate everv trace of their temporary occupation. He
buried the embers of the fire and the remnant of food,
unpiled any stones he had piled together, filled up the
holes he had scooped in the sand. Since this was exactly
Jacinto’s procedure, Father Latour judged that just as it

126

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

was the white man's way to assert himself in any
landscape, to change it, make it over a little (at least to
leave some mark of memorial of his sojourn), it was the
Indian’s way to pass and leavje no trace, like fish through
the water, or birds through the air.3

Rene Dubos describes Europe as a work of art. Centuries of
careful husbandry have produced cities of unique characteristics,
landscapes of surprising variety, and architecture reflecting
climate and locale. Like Willa Cather, he sees the human imposing a
sense of order on the land that we might describe as a “humanized
landscape.” An eminent microbiologist, experimental pathologist,
author, and winner of the 1969 Pulitzer Prize for So Human an
Animal , he writes in an engaging manner from a broad humanistic
base.

One of his major themes is that there must be a close and
harmonious relationship between humans and the land. Each
geographic area has unique characteristics just as each human has
a genetic heritage. The harmonious interaction of both creates a
sensible ecosystem. This idea is best presented in his development of
the Franciscan love of nature and the Benedictine husbandry of
nature.

Saint Francis of Assisi loved birds and flowers and animals. He
preached respect for nature and God’s marvelous creation (perhaps
he was our first genuine hippie!) He believed in the universal
brotherhood of all living things. But love is not enough, Dubos
insists. Rather it should be love united with action. His model is the
Benedictines who believed one should pray and also work —
Laborate et orate. The early followers of Saint Benedict built on the
hillsides. Later orders, such as the Cistercians, built in the valleys.
They cleared forests and drained the swamps and thereby
eliminated malaria and established rich agricultural areas. By
their direct intervention and systematic husbandry, Dubos feels:

They have brought about profound transformations of
soil, water, fauna, and flora, but in such a wise manner
that their management of nature has proved compatible
in most cases with the maintenance of environmental
quality.4

Wherever this concern for nature, for the land, has been missing,
great civilizations have floundered. In the Middle East, we can still

1978]

Najem — Humanistic Views of Life, and Land

127

visit the ruins of Assyria and Babylon or the barren slopes of
Lebanon’s mountains deprived of the famous cedars. Dubos points
out that wildlife has been severely reduced in modern Japan, and
that central and northern China are barren.5 Dubos believes that
humans today, although advanced in technology, are straying from
their instinctive and physiological roots. We were meant to be a part
of the natural world, and to run, hunt, play, and live in unison with
the seasons. We were meant to retain a certain sense of awe and
wonder of the natural world. While technology has certainly
benefited the human condition, it has alienated us from our natural
environment.6 (We are back to Rousseau.) So Dubos makes some
positive recommendations.

First and foremost he recommends that we revitalize our great
cities— and all our cities. London, Paris, New York, Tokyo are vital
civilizing centers. They must remain to perform their traditional
role. They must be protected from urban erosion. Around these
centers of learning and culture there should be areas for human
habitation. Another circle must be for farms and agricultural
areas. The need to recreate being fundamental; Dubos recommends
natural areas be provided for this purpose. Access from one to the
other should be easy. In this manner man can satisfy basic needs. He
feels strongly too that areas of wilderness should be provided to
startle and delight the human imagination.7 These rings would
comprise a harmonious ecosystem respecting human needs and an
environment capable of supporting and recreating all forms of life.
Although these ideas are best articulated in Only One Earth: The
Care and Maintenance of a Small Planet , they are very much a part
of the texture of So Human an Animal and A God Within.8

Dubos’s view is a global one. He speaks eloquently to all peoples in
all parts of the world. A God Within ends with the bells of Easter
Sunday ringing out with Dubos’s commentary on the growth of
mushrooms where once bombs had fallen.

The third and last author to be considered is Pierre Teilhard de
Chardin— Jesuit, world-renowned, French-born paleontologist, co¬
discoverer in 1924 of Peking man. Although he is probably best
known for The Phenomenon of Man, I will concentrate on Building
the Earth in which the famous quotation appears: “The age of
nations is past. The task before us now, if we would not perish, is to
shake off our ancient prejudices, and to build the earth.” He is not
immediately concerned with the charm of rural settings, awe¬
inspiring landscapes, or depletion of ground-water. His concept of

128

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

building the earth is a complex one. Chardin stresses the fact that
all peoples must unite in a common effort to create a healthier moral
climate for the whole planet. The provincial, chauvinistic, and
nationalistic must yield to the global and the transcendent.
However, this is not to say he is insensitive to aesthetic con¬
siderations or ecological problems. Rather his landscape is an inner
human one, and his originality lies in a description of our spiritual
odyssey through this new environment. Like Pascal, he begins with
the infinitely small and goes to the infinitely great. His is a cosmic
voyage and a cosmic vision. In a frightened age he speaks with hope
about the future of humankind.

Chardin was fascinated by matter from early childhood. He
collected pieces of metal and was upset when they began to rust.
Early in his thinking he developed the idea that matter contains its
own future evolutional development. Like a Japanese paper novelty
of pre-World War II that on contact with water unfolds as a lovely
plant or geometric pattern, so also does the evolutionary scheme.
Evolution is a light, according to Chardin, illuminating all facts, a
curve that all lines must follow. Central to this evolutionary thrust
from alpha to omega, from God to God, is the human growing more
and more complex, conscious of self, cerebral. People are reaching
out more to one another politically, technologically, and spiritually.
Eventually total union will come at the omega point. These ideas are
fully developed in The Phenomenon of Man and implied throughout
Building the Earth.

As humans move toward greater union aided by a growing and
inexhaustible psychic energy, tangential energy decreases
proportionately— such is the law of thermodynamics. In the
culminating synthesis of evolution a universal consciousness will
fuse at the omega point. In his conclusion of Building the Earth,
Chardin emphasizes that:

Tomorrow, a new “psyco-dynamics” will probably be of
more use than our present electro — and thermo —
dynamics.9

Human energy will replace nature’s energy. To Chardin, then,
the earth is a vehicle for humankind on its voyage to the infinite. At
the point of greatest human perfection, the earth will have lost its
energy resources and will disintegrate as a vehicle for human life. Is
this a somber comment on the future of humankind or a realistic

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

129

appraisal of our future by a man deeply concerned and totally
committed?

From Egyptian mythology we learn that the god Ptah created
order from primordial chaos and that the goddess Maat imposed
moral standards and social harmony on the future inhabitants of the
Nile fringes. Every great civilization has since wrestled with the
questions of creation, order in the physical and moral world, and the
purpose of life. In examining the attitudes of these writers toward
the land, we learn that they have addressed themselves to these
questions. Willa Gather sees life as a human struggle to impose
order on a beautiful, but oftentimes hostile environment. Dubos
feels the earth will take care of us if we in turn husband the earth.
And finally Chardin believes we are searching for moral perfection
in an orderly universe of diminishing energy. Struggle, husbandry,
and search summarize their respective attitudes toward life and the
land.

NOTATIONS

1. Willa Gather, Death Comes for the Archbishop. New York: A. A. Knopf, 1955, p.
44

2. Ibid., p. 31

3. Ibid., p. 233

4. Rene Dubos, A God Within, New York: Scribner, 1972, p. 169.

5. Ibid., p. 161

6. Ibid., pp. 256-291, passim, chapter entitled “Arcadian Life Versus Faustian
Civilization.”

7. Ibid., pp. 142-143

8. Rene Dubos and Barbara Ward, Only One Earth: The Care and Maintenance of
a Small Planet. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1972. See pp. 78-115 “Man’s Use
and Abuse of the Land.”

9. Teilhard de Chardin, Building the Earth. Wilkes-Barre, Pa.: Avon, 1965, p. 54

10. Ibid., p. Ill

SPRING AND SUMMER BIRDS OF THE
PIGEON LAKE REGION

Howard Young,

University Wisconsin — LaCrosse

and

Richard F. Bernard,

Quinnipiac College , Connecticut

Pigeon Lake is located at 46°21'N, 91°20'W,
in Drummond Township of Bayfield Coun¬
ty, Wisconsin. It is about 30 miles north of
Hayward and is surrounded by the Chequamegon National Forest.
The study area is located in a mixed hardwood-conifer forest,
mainly second growth, with interspersed tilled land, pasture and
abandoned fields. There are several streams, numerous small ponds
and lakes, the latter generally oligotrophic or mesotrophic. In
addition there are many bogs, some at lake edge, and a few cat-tail
( Typha ) communities. It is a lightly settled region, with ap¬
proximately seven people per square mile.

A field station, currently run by cooperating campuses of the
University of Wisconsin, has been in operation at Pigeon Lake since
1960. Observations during this period have resulted in the
accumulation of information on the avifauna; primarily through
field trips by ornithology classes. Several students (see
bibliography) conducted nesting studies for extra credit, and the
senior author studied nesting birds of the area in 1974 and 1975.
These data are summarized here for use by future students and
researchers.

The study area for this report (Fig. 1) is defined as a five mile
radius from the field station. The nearest location for which there is
published ornithological material is the Lake Owen region,
approximately 2 miles east of the study area. Here Schorger (1925)
listed 75 species observed July 3-10, 1920 and June 9-20, 1924,
including breeding information on 25 of these. Jackson’s (1941)
paper covered the northwest quarter of the state; the closest he
worked to this area was at Namekagon Lake, about 10 miles
southwest of the station (9 days in May and June, 1919). Bernard’s
(1967) report on neighboring Douglas County is much more
detailed; his list of woodland species is comparable to that of this
study.

130

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

131

A

i - 1 — — -j -»-+ m»H

MILES RAILROAD

FIGURE 1. The Pigeon Lake Region
Breeding Information

Information on the progress of the breeding season and on nest
success was gathered by Christopherson (1969), who observed 20
nests of 16 species; Gates (1973), 23 nests of 10 species; and Young’s
observations during 1974 and 1975 on 251 nests of 41 species. A total
of 294 nests of 54 species were observed. A typical progression of the

132

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

FIGURE 2. The Nesting Season at Pigeon Lake

nesting season as far as density increase and species involved is
shown in Fig. 2. The abrupt termination is an artifact, reflecting the
time that field studies stopped. Nest success data gathered in 1974
and 1975 are summarized in Table 1. These success ratios appear to
be low when compared with other studies of mixed species. For
example, Young (1949) found 47% successful nests and 40% of eggs
producing fledglings. However, the only species for which a good
sample of nests was obtained at Pigeon Lake was the Red-winged
Blackbird. Data for the Pigeon Lake records on this species are
compared in Table 2 with those gathered in 1959 and 1960 at La
Crosse (Young, 1963). Here the success seems comparable,

TABLE 1 - PIGEON LAKE: NEST SUCCESS

1974

1975

Totals or
Averages

No. of Species

22

29

35

No. Active Nests

60

135

195

% Successful

32

33

33

% Eggs Producing Fledglings

29

23

25

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

133

TABLE 2 - NEST SUCCESS: RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD

a

Active

Nests

b

% Suc¬
cessful

Total

Eggs

% %

Hatched Fledged

% Eggs
Producing

Fledglings

Pigeon Lake 1974

29

31

100

43

63

27

Pigeon Lake 1975

69

23

220

60

39

17

Total or Percent

98

26

320

55

46

20

Stoddard 1959

238

35

730

54

53

28

Stoddard I960

280

24

902

45

40

18

Total or Percent

518

29

1632

49

46

23

acontaining at least one egg
bfledging at least one young bird

suggesting that the low overall success at Pigeon Lake may be
influenced by small sample size for numerous species.

It is of interest to note the latitudinal effect on breeding time when
comparing studies made at Pigeon Lake with those made in
southern Wisconsin. Table 3 shows the differential effect on early
breeders (Robin, Red-winged Blackbird) and a relatively late
breeder (Gray Catbird).

The Robin, which is the earliest breeder of the three, has a
breeding season which runs from 3 weeks to a month behind that in
southern Wisconsin. Robin breeding had essentially stopped when
observations ended at Pigeon Lake on July 11, 1975. Nestling robins
have been observed as late as August 18 at Madison (Young, 1955),
so the northern breeding season is about 70 days shorter than the
southern. Since the nestling cycle takes about 35 days, there is no
time for a third brood, which is occasionally produced in the south,
and there is lessened opportunity for re-nesting after failure.

The Red-winged Blackbird, which breeds somewhat later than
the Robin, has a breeding .season about 30 days shorter than that in
the south.

In contrast, the Gray Catbird has essentially the same breeding
season at Pigeon Lake and at Madison. By the time it arrives in the
north, conditions are such that breeding can shortly occur.

With sufficient data it is probable that this varying pattern could
be shown with numerous species.

134

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

TABLE 3 - CHRONOLOGY OF NESTING ACTIVITIES

A. Start of Nest Construction

Earliest

Latest

South

Pigeon Lake

South

Pigeon Lake

Robin

Redwinged

4/2

5/4

7/14

6/14

Blackbird

5/3

5/14

7/8

6/20

Gray Catbird

5/21

5/22

6/24

6/26

B. First Egg

Earliest

Latest

South

Pigeon Lake

South

Pigeon Lake

Robin

Redwinged

4/10

5/12

7/6

6/21

Blackbird

5/13

5/21

7/15

7/4

Gray Catbird

5/29

6/1

6/30

6/24

C. First Nestling

South

Pigeon Lake

Robin

Redwinged

5/6

5/27

Blackbird

5/27

6/5

Gray Catbird

6/14

6/13

Since quantitative data are lacking, designations such as
common, scarce, etc., in the following sections are subjective. In
general the terms used to indicate relative abundance can be
interpreted as follows:

Abundant — usually recorded in good numbers on all trips
Common — often seen in substantial numbers
Fairly common — - seen on approximately half of the trips
Occasional — erratic in appearance
Scarce — only a few individuals observed each season
Rare — less abundant than the preceding; only 1 or 2 records for
the area.

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

135

Breeding status is based on the finding of active nests, or
observations of adults with young. For other species, Gromme’s
(1963) breeding range maps and Barger, et al. (1960) were
consulted. Where appropriate breeding ranges were found, these
species were listed as assumed breeders, unless the study area did
not have suitable habitat.

The following list contains 150 species recorded in the area, of
which 58 are known breeders. It is probable that an additional 63
species breed within the study area, and 40 (25 possible breeders)
species are included in a hypothetical list, since they probably occur
at least occasionally in the area, but have not been observed.

GAVIIFORMES

Common Loon ( Gavia immer). Occasional on Pigeon Lake and
Rust Flowage at Drummond. A nest with 2 eggs at Pigeon Lake
(1973) was flooded out.

COLYMBIFORMES

2Pied-billed Grebe ( Podilymbus podiceps). Scarce in immediate
area; observed at Rust Flowage.

CICONIIFORMES

Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias). No rookeries known within
study area. Seldom seen on shore-line of Pigeon Lake, but
individuals have been observed flying over area.

2Green Heron (Butorides striatus). Has been seen on Rust
Flowage, Drummond Lake and Pigeon Lake; fairly common.

2American Bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus). As preceding.

ANSERIFORMES

Whistling Swan (Olor columbianus—A single bird on Pigeon
Lake for one afternoon, June 8, 1978.

Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos). A sparse breeder in the im¬
mediate area. In 1974 a nest near the shore of Pigeon Lake hatched
nine young on June 14. A hen with a brood of six was seen on Pigeon
Lake in the summer of 1975.

^lack Duck (Anas rubripes). Rare. A hen with a brood of seven,
seen on a small lake 4 y2 miles north of the station (July 1971) is the
only record.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

2Blue-winged Teal ( Anas discors). Seen only during migration.

2Wood Duck (Aix sponsa). Rare.

Ring-necked Duck (Aythya collaris). Rare, one observed on
Pigeon Lake, May 1966.

Lesser Scaup (Aythya affinis). Rare, observed at Pigeon Lake in
May 1965 and 1968.

2Hooded Merganser ( Lophodytes cucullatus). One flying over
Pigeon Lake, May 1974. Occasionally seen on ponds in the study
area.

Common Merganser (Mergus merganser). Only record: several on
Pigeon Lake, May 1966.

Red-breasted Merganser ( Mergus Serrator). One seen at Drum¬
mond Lake, July 1968.

FALCONIFORMES

Turkey Vulture ( Cathartes aura). Three records. A pair landed
on the shore of Pigeon Lake in 1962. A single, bird was present for
several days in May 1975 and also in May 1978.

2Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus). One mist-netted at the
field station, 1965. Probably common.

2Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). Most frequently observed
hunting in agricultural areas north of Pigeon Lake.

2Red-shouldered Hawk (Buteo lineatus). Rare, one over field
station, May 1976.

^road-winged Hawk (Buteo platypterus). Definitely the most
common hawk of the region. Nests have been found in the
Drummond woods, and near the west end of Pigeon Lake. In the
latter, two young hatched about June 18, 1975.

^ald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus). A regular visitor to
Pigeon Lake. Nests are within the study area (George Phillips, DNR
Game Warden, Personal Communication 1975), but were not
visited.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus). Fairly common. Nests are within
study area (Phillips, Personal Communication, 1975) but were not
visited.

kestrel (Falco sparverius). Common in more open areas, along
roadsides and in brushy fields.

GALLIFORMES

:Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus). Common in wooded areas.

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

137

GRUIFORMES

2Virginia Rail ( Rallus limicola). A single record from Pigeon
Lake, June 1967, also heard at Lake Drummond, May 1978.

xSora Rail (Porzana Carolina ). Uncommon, one nest on Pigeon
Lake 1975.

CHARADRIIFORMES

^illdeer ( Charadrius vociferus). Common, most often sighted at
Lake Drummond. Local young observed on several occasions.

Black-bellied Plover ( Pluvialis squatarola). A single record from
Lake Drummond, May 1973.

American Woodcock (Philohela minor). Common; newly hatched
young seen, 1975.

2Common Snipe (Capella gallinago). Fairly common; in marshy
areas associated with lakes.

Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularia). A few along shoreline of
Pigeon Lake and Lake Drummond. Nest found at edge of Pigeon
Lake, June 1966.

Solitary Sandpiper ( Tringa solitaria). Occasional; transient
birds seen at west end of Pigeon Lake, usually in August.

Dunlin ( Erolia alpina). One bird at Lake Drummond, May, 1978.
Greater Yellowlegs ( Tringa melanoleucus). A single record from
Pigeon Lake, May 1967.

Semipalmated Sandpiper (Calidris pusillus). A few migrants
found on the shore of Lake Drummond.

Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis). A single record from Lake
Drummond, May 1973.

2Black Tern ( Chlidonias niger). Occasionally seen in marshy
places.

COLUMBIFORMES

Mourning Dove (Zenaidura macroura). Common.
CUCULIFORMES

2Black-billed Cuckoo ( Coccyzus erythropthalmus). Fairly com¬
mon, usually first appearing between May 15-20.

STRIGIFORMES

2Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus). Often heard calling in
vicinity of Pigeon Lake.

2Barred Owl (Strix varia). Apparently more common than the
preceding.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

CAPRIMULGIFORMES

2Whip-poor-will ( Caprimulgus vociferus). Common.

2Common Nighthawk (Chordeiles minor). Common.

APODIFORMES

2Chimney Swift (Chaetura peligica). The population is concen¬
trated in the Drummond area.

1 Ruby -throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris). A common
summer resident. Nest found on station grounds, 1974.

CORACIIFORMES

2Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryl alcyon). A few pairs in the general
region.

PICIFORMES

Tommon Flicker ( Colaptes auratus). Common, nest found on
station grounds, summer 1975.

2Northern Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus). One bird
at Lake Drummond, May 1978. Old workings are present near
Pigeon Lake.

2Red-headed Woodpecker ( Melanerpes erythrocephalus). Scarce.

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius). Most abundant
woodpecker of the area, and a common breeder. Five nests were
found in 1975. It is interesting to note that Schorger (1925) did not
see this species at all.

*Hairy Woodpecker (Dendrocopus villosus). Although Jackson
(1941) and Zirrer ( 1941) indicated this to be more abundant than the
following, Young’s (1961) study did not support their views. Not
common in study area, one nest found in 1975.

!Downy Woodpecker (Dendrocopus pubescens). Seen more fre¬
quently than the preceding, but Schorger (op. cit.) found it less
abundant than villosus at Lake Owen. Nest found near western end
of Pigeon Lake in 1967.

PASSERIFORMES

Tyrannidae

Eastern Kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus). Most common in open
area, 2 nests found in 1967, Schorger (op. cit.) also found it nesting at
Lake Owen.

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

139

Northern Crested Flycatcher ( Myiarchus crinitus). A common
summer resident of the forested areas. A nest was found in 1975,
near the eastern edge of Pigeon Lake.

Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe). Common. Two nests were
found in 1974; one on the station grounds had 4 young ready to
fledge on June 28th. The other, in an abandoned shed several miles
east of the station, had 4 eggs on June 28th, with the parents in
attendance. Two nests were found on the station grounds in 1975
and also in 1978. Christopherson (1969) and Gates (1973) also found
this species breeding.

Yellow-bellied Flycatcher (Empidonax flaviventris). No nesting
records for the study area. One was mist-netted at the station on
June 1, 1973.

Alder Flycatcher ( Empidonax alnorum). In shrubby areas.
Logging operations provide habitat for this species.

xLeast Flycatcher (Empidonax minimus). Abundant. Two nests
found in 1974 were both about 30 feet up in a sugar maple. The first
had 4 eggs on J une 1 1th , 4 young on J une 28th; the second was under
construction on June 19th, and had 2 eggs when last checked on
June 28th. Another nest found in 1975 again was approximately 30
feet high in a sugar maple.

2 Wood Pewee (Contopus virens). Common, doubtless breeds in
study area.

Olive-sided Flycatcher (Nuttallornis borealis). Uncommon, has
been found in wind-blown area east of the station.

Hirundinidae

^ree Swallow (Iridoprocne bicolor). Common, nests in dead
stumps near lake shores, and in bird houses in various locations. A
nest checked in 1974 had 4 eggs on June 17th, 4 young on June 28th.
Five nests were found in 1975.

xBank Swallow (Ripariariparia). Fairly common. Several pairs
nested in a gravel pit about V/2 miles west of the station in 1974.

^ough-winged Swallow (Stelgidopteryx ruficollis). Uncommon.
Two pairs nested in the gravel pit during 1974.

^arn Swallow (Hirundo rustica). Fairly common near buildings.
One pair nested at the station in 1974 and had 4 small young when
last checked on June 28th. A single pair nested at the station in 1975
and also in 1978.

1Cliff Swallow ( Petrochelidon pyrrhonota). Common. There was a
small 5-nest colony on a south-shore cottage at Pigeon Lake in 1974,
and a large 94 nest colony in Drummond. The latter, which had been
in existence for several years, was abandoned in 1975; a new colony

140

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

started at Drummond was destroyed by heavy rain. A single pair
nested at the station in 1975, evicting a pair of Barn Swallows and
remodeling their nest.

Purple Martin (Progne subis). Common, several pairs nested in
homes erected near Pigeon Lake, and in Drummond.

Corvidae

^lue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata). Fairly common. A nest was found
in May 1974, in mixed deciduous woods about 1 mile east of the
station.

2Raven (Corvus corax). Common, usually in small flocks,
congregate in dumping areas.

2Crow ( Corvus brachyrhynchos). Common, small flocks in
agricultural areas.

Paridae

^lack-capped Chickadee (Parus atricapillus). Fairly common,
nest found on station grounds in 1968 and 1975.

Boreal Chickadee ( Parus hudsonicus). Rare, one observed near
Pigeon Lake in June 1968, a second in June 1975.

Sittidae

2White-breasted Nuthatch ( Sitta carolinensis). Fairly common.

1 Red-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis). Less common than
the preceding; nesting pair on station grounds, 1975.

Certhiidae

2Brown Creeper (Certhia familiaris). Fairly common.

Troglodytidae

^ouse Wren ( Troglodytes aedon). Common near human habita¬
tion, utilizing artificial nest boxes.

Winter Wren (Troglodytes troglotydes). One on shore of Pigeon
Lake, April 1974.

Mimidae

Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottus). Rare, a pair seen in Drum¬
mond, May 1973.

xGray Catbird (Dumetella carolinensis). Common. Five nests
found in 1974, the earliest started May 30. Of 17 found in 1975, the
earliest was May 22, the latest on June 26.

^rown Thrasher (Toxostoma rufum). Common, nesting in 1974
started May 10.

Turdidae

American Robin (Turdus migratorius). Common nester, par¬
ticularly near open areas. The earliest nest in 1974 was started May
4; the same year another nest still had eggs on June 28. In 1975 the

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

141

first nest was started on May 12; a female was sitting on nest July
3rd. Despite the abundance of trees, two females nested on the
ground in 1974.

Wood Thrush (Hylocichla mustelina). Common. A 1974 nest had
4 eggs on May 31, but was robbed. The single nest found in 1975 had
4 eggs on May 29, but was later abandoned.

2Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttata). Mainly restricted to bog
areas; a persistent singer.

Swainson’s Thrush (Catharus ustulata). Fairly common migrant.

Gray-cheeked Thrush ( Catharus minima). Fairly common
migrant.

feery ( Catharus fuscescens). Nest found on station grounds, May
1973. One found in 1975 had eggs hatching on June 1st.

2Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis). While no nests have been found
within the study area, the bluebird is a fairly common summer
resident.

Sylviidae

2Golden-crowned Kinglet ( Regulus satrapa). Fairly common
migrant.

2Ruby-crowned Kinglet ( Regulus calendula). More common than
preceding.

Motacillidae

Water Pipit ( Anthus spinoletta). A single record, May 1973; one
individual on the shore of Drummond Lake.

Bombycillidae

xCedar Waxwing (Bomby cilia cedrorum). Common, but
irregular. Observed nest-building on station grounds, June 1974;
nest found near eastern edge of Pigeon Lake in 1975.

Sturnidae

2European Starling. (Sturnus vulgaris). Primarily restricted to
the village of Drummond.

Vireonidae

fellow-throated Vireo ( Vireo flavifrons). Fairly common,
particularly where maples are abundant. Nested on station
grounds, 1978.

Solitary Vireo ( Vireo solitarius). Not common. One seen near
Pigeon Lake, July 4, 1968. A nest was found on the station grounds
in 1975.

1 Red-eyed Vireo ( Vireo olivaceus). Abundant. A 1974 nest on the
station grounds had its first egg on June 23. This perhaps was a
renesting, since in 1975, the* first egg was laid on June 6.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 66

Philadelphia Vireo ( Vireo philadelphicus). Fairly common
spring migrant.

2Warbling Vireo ( Vireo gilvus). Uncommon, but usually present
in the town of Drummond.

Parulidae

2Black and White Warbler (Mniotilta varia). Uncommon.

2Golden-winged Warbler (Vermivora chrysoptera). Uncommon,
best area about 1 mile east of station, where bushy growth has
sprung up in old tornado path.

Tennessee Warbler ( Vermivora perigrina). Fairly common
spring migrant.

Orange-crowned Warbler (Vermivora celata). Uncommon
migrant.

Nashville Warbler (Vermivora ruficapilla). Common, a 1975
nest had 5 young on June 2.

2Parula Warbler (Parula americana). Fairly common.

1 Y ellow W arbler (Dendroica petechia). Common. Five nests found
in 1975, nesting starts in the 3rd week of May.

2Magnolia Warbler (Dendroica magnolia). Common spring
migrant.

2Cape May Warbler (Dendroica tigrina). Fairly common spring
migrant.

Black-throated Blue Warbler (Dendroica caerulescens). Rare,
seen June 1971 at Bearsdale Spring; one singing near station, May
1975.

2Yellow-rumped Warbler (Dendroica coronata). Abundant
migrant, fairly common summer resident.

2Black-throated Green Warbler (Dendroica virens) Common
summer resident, most abundant in areas with many maples.

2Blackburnian Warbler (Dendroica fusca). Fairly common
summer resident.

Chestnut-sided Warbler (Dendroica pensylvanica). Abundant. A
1975 nest was started on June 11th, 2! high in hazel.

Blackpoll Warbler (Dendroica striata). Uncommon migrant.

2Pine Warbler (Dendroica pinus). Common summer resident.

2Palm Warbler (Dendroica palmarum). Common migrant.
Although the study area is within the nesting range, no summer
records were obtained.

Cvenbird (Seiurus aurocapillus). Abundant summer resident.
One 1975 nest was started on May 18th, another still had young in
the nest on July 1st.

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

143

2Northern Water-Thrush (Seiurus noveboracensis). Fairly com¬
mon spring migrant.

Connecticut Warbler ( Oporornis agilis). Uncommon spring
migrant.

Mourning Warbler ( Oporornis Philadelphia). Common. Nests
found 1974 and 1975, both were on the ground.

^ellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas). Common in low moist areas.
Nest found in 1975 was 2! high in hazel, started about June 20th.

Wilson's Warbler ( Wilsonia pusilla). Common spring migrant.

Canada Warbler ( Wilsonia canadensis). Common spring
migrant.

American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla). Common summer
resident; one nest found in 1975.

Ploceidae

^ouse Sparrow ( Passer domesticus). Common permanent
resident in populated areas.

Icteridae

2Bobolink (Dolichonyx oryzivorus). Spring flock in field south of
station, May 1976.

2E astern Meadowlark (Sturnella magna). Uncommon summer
resident.

2 Western Meadowlark ( Sturnella neglecta). Uncommon summer
resident.

iRed-winged Blackbird ( Agelaius phoeniceus). Abundant
breeder, nesting most extensively along the shores of Pigeon Lake.

Northern Oriole ( Icterus galbula). Common breeder, old nests
observed in trees at Drummond.

1 Brewer’s Blackbird ( Euphagus cyanocephalus). Occasional in
more open areas and along roadsides. Nest found in field, ca. 2 miles
west of field station.

Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula). Fairly common, nests on
south shore of Pigeon Lake.

^rown-headed Cowbird ( Molothrus ater). Commonly observed,
but only 4 eggs were found: 2 in nests of the Chestnut-sided W arbler,
and 1 each in nests of the Solitary Vireo and Red-eyed Vireo.

Thraupidae

2Scarlet Tanager ( Piranga olivacea). Fairly common.

Fringillidae

^ose-breasted Grosbeak (Pheucticus ludovicianus). Common
breeder, nest found on station grounds in 1974.

2Indigo Bunting ( Passerina cyanea). Common, usually arrives in
late May or early June.

144

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Evening Grosbeak (Hesperiphona vespertina). Uncommon, but
may eventually be found nesting in area.

2Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus). Fairly common.

!Pine Siskin ( Spinus pinus). Uncommon, one nest found, 1969.

2E astern Goldfinch (Spinus tristis). Common and probably
breeds; observations stop before start of nesting season.

Red Crossbill (Loxia curvirostra). One observed at Pigeon Lake,
July 1968.

2Rufous-sided Towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus. Fairly common.

2Vesper Sparrow (Pooecetes gramineus). Scarce in more open
areas.

2Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis). Fairly common.

Shipping Siarrow ( Spizella passerina). Common breeder.

^lay-colored Sparrow (Spizella pallida). Common in brushy
areas, seen feeding young.

2Field Sparrow (Spizella pusilla). Scarce in more open areas.

White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys). Uncommon.

2White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis). Common.

Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca ). Uncommon.

2Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana). Fairly common.

xSong Sparrow (Melospiza melodia). Abundant breeder.

Lapland Longspur (Calcarius lapponicus). One individual, near
Drummond in May 1973.

definite breeding record for study area
2Assumed breeder

1978]

Young & Bernard-— Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

145

HYPOTHETICAL LIST

Pectoral Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Herring Gull
3Common Tern

CQLYMRIFORMES
3Horned Grebe

ANSERIFORMES
Canada Goose

CICONIIFORMES
3 1., east Bittern
3Gadwall
3PintaiJ
3Green-winged Teal
3Am. Wigeon
3Shoveler
Redhead
Canvasback
Common Goldeneye
Bufflehead
3Ruddy Duck

FALCONIFORMES
3Goshawk
Cooper's Hawk
Rough legged Hawk
3Harrier

GRUIFORMES

Coot

CHARADRIIFORMES

Semi-palmated Plover

3Upland Sandiiper
Lesser Yellow legs

CUCULIFORMES

3Yellow-billed Cuckoo

STRIGIFORMES
3Screech Owl
3Long-eared Owl

PASSERIFORMES

Troglodytidae

3Marsh Wren
3Sedge Wren
Bombycillidae

Bohemian Waxwing
Laniidae

3Loggerhead Shrike
Parulidae

Bay-breasted Warbler
Icteridae

Rusty Blackbird
Fringillidae

3White-winged Crossbill
3Savannah Sparrow
Crasshopper Sparrow
3Henslow’s Sparrow
Tree Sparrow
Lincoln's Sparrow

3Possible Breeders

146

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Summary

One hundred and fifty species have been recorded during the
spring and summer for the Pigeon Lake region. Fifty-eight are
known breeders, with 63 more probable breeders.

A hypothetical list of 40 species includes 25 possible breeders.
The breeding season and nesting success are discussed.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In addition to students cited in the text, we wish to acknowledge
assistance in the field studies from Drs. Stephen Goddard (UW-
River Falls), John Kaspar (UW-Oshkosh), Robert Lewke (UW-Eau
Claire), and Charles North (UW-Whitewater). Mr. Tom Haberman,
La Crosse, assisted in the nesting studies of 1974-1975. Nesting
studies of the senior author were supported by a research grant
from UW-La Crosse.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barger, N.-R., R. H. Lound and S. D. Robbins, Jr. 1960. Wisconsin Birds, Wis. Soc.
Ornith., 32 pp.

Bernard, R. F. 1967. The birds of Douglas County, Wisconsin. Pass. Pigeon 29(2):3-
36.

Christopherson, M. 1969. A Study of Nesting Success of Birds in The Pigeon Lake
Area, Unpubl. Ms., Biol. Dept., UW-La Crosse.

Gates, C. 1973. Pigeon Lake Field Station Nest Study, Unpubl. Ms., Biol. Dept., UW-
La Crosse.

Gromme, 0. J. 1963. Birds of Wisconsin. Univ. Wis. Press, 219 pp.

Jackson, H. H. T. 1941. Summer birds of northwestern Wisconsin, Pass. Pigeon
3(10):87-90.

4(2):9-12.

. 1942 Summer birds of northwestern Wisconsin, Pass. Pigeon

1978]

Young & Bernard — Birds of Pigeon Lake Region

147

Schorger, A. W. 1925. Some summer birds of Lake Owen, Bayfield County,
Wisconsin, Auk 40 (l):64-70.

Young, H. 1949. A comparative study of nesting birds in a five-acre park, Wilson
Bull 61(l):36-47.

- - 1961 The downy and hairy woodpeckers in Wisconsin, Pass. Pigeon

23(1)3-6.

- . 1963 Age specific mortality in the eggs and nestlings of blackbirds,

Auk 80(2): 145 -155.

Zirrer, F., 1941 Some November notes on Sawyer County birds, Pass. Pigeon
3(12):109.

AQUATIC MACROPHYTES OF THE
PINE AND POPPLE RIVER SYSTEM,

FLORENCE AND FOREST COUNTIES, WISCONSIN

S. Galen Smith

University of Wisconsin— Whitewater

ABSTRACT

Field surveys of the rivers, 5 tributary creeks, 9
lakes and 5 impoundments provide data on
distribution, relative abundance, general
ecology and taxonomic problems of about 50 species in the streams
and 44 in the lakes. Accurate identification of species in the streams
was often difficult due to lack of reproductive structures, confusing
flowing-water forms, apparent hybridization in broad-leaved
Potamogeton, and species problems in Elodea, Ranunculus, Nuphar
and Nymphaea. Submerged and occasionally emergent aquatic
vegetation was present in most of the streams and all the very
diverse stream habitats. Vegetation sometimes filled the entire
channel, but cover was usually low, and several miles of stream
below the Pine River power dam were barren. Sparganium
chlorocarpum was most abundant, followed by Potamogeton
richardsonii , P. alpinus and hybrids, and Elodea. Distributions of
some species were apparently without pattern while others were
restricted to special habitats. Although many aquatic growth forms
occurred, submerged rhizomatous plants predominated. The
stream flora was characteristic of mesotrophic habitats and lacked
extremely oligotrophic dwarf rosette indicator species. About 13
species were restricted mostly to lakes and 14 mostly to streams.

INTRODUCTION

This paper presents data from field studies during 1967 and 1968
of most of the navigable streams, 9 natural lakes and 5 im¬
poundments in the Pine-Popple River watershed (Fig. 1). Essential¬
ly no other information is available from herbarium or other
sources. Included are distribution, relative abundance, general
ecology, and taxonomic problems of the aquatic plants; vegetation
of wetlands, banks, bars and uplands is described only in broad
descriptive terms.

148

S^QO' 88°I5'

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

149

°m "m

FIGURE 1. Pine and Popple River system, Forest and Florence Counties,
Wisconsin.

150

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

An additional important objective is to stimulate interest in the
ecology of the macrophytes of flowing water, which is a badly
neglected field of study in most of the world (Hynes 1970; Westlake
1975). Except for a similar but less detailed study of the Brule River
in the north by Thomson (1944) and a brief survey of Whitewater
Creek in the southeast by Smith (1973a), no other similar data are
available for Wisconsin streams (Curtis 1959). In adjacent states,
very brief lists of species have been published for the streams
draining into the north shore of Lake Superior in Minnesota(Smith
and Moyle 1944) and the upper Mississippi River (Peterson 1962).
Only a few other papers are concerned with the general ecology of
macrophytes of North American streams (Ricker 1934; Hunt 1963;
Minkley 1963; Haslam 1978).

The Pine and Popple Rivers were established as wild rivers by the
Wisconsin legislature in 1965 (Becker 1972a). The hydrology and
other physical characteristics were described by Oakes et al. (1973),
the Northeastern Wisconsin Regional Planning Commission (1970),
and Hole (1974). The fish and water chemistry were described by
Mason and Wegner (1970) and Becker (1972b). The land is mostly
wild and forested with rolling topography between 1,068 and 1,830
feet (326 and 558 m). Varied glacial deposits overlie Precambrian
bedrock of diverse mineral composition. About 70 lakes are
included. The waters are essentially unpolluted and clear, with low
to medium hardness. Surface temperatures reach over 75°F (23°C)
in summer. In streams, turbidity is generally low but a brown stain
is present in some reaches especially during periods of runoff.
Springs are generally small and inconspicuous. The climate is
humid continental, with most precipitation falling as rain in spring
and summer.

This project was financed by the Wisconsin Department of
Natural Resources under a cooperative agreement with the
University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. The following gave generous¬
ly of their professional aid: Theodore S. Cochrane, Howard Crum,
Steven Field, Robert Haynes, Lee Holt, Hugh H. litis, Jack Mason,
Eugene C. Ogden, Robert K. Rose, Winona Welch and Tom Wirth.
In addition, Robert Biller, Jr., William Hummel, James Olson,
Aleene Rose, my sons Peter and Damon and my wife Rose all served
as unpaid assistants.

METHODS

A broadly descriptive approach was taken to make possible the
observation of most of the stream system, including many relatively

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

151

inaccessible localities that could not have been visited if more time
had been spent on detailed sampling. Only plants that were
submerged, emergent or floating at normal water levels were
considered in detail. The field studies were conducted during June,
July and August, in 1967 by the author and Robert K. Rose, and in
1968 mostly by Robert K. Rose and William Hummel. Almost all
navigable portions of the system were floated in a canoe at least once
including streams greater than 3 m in width. A few non-navigable
reaches were surveyed on foot. The major lakes with surface
drainage into the stream system as well as some lakes lacking
surface drainage were also studied. Within each reasonably
uniform reach of stream, ranging from several hundred feet to
several miles, the relative abundance and importance of each
species was visually estimated. Notes were taken also on stream
form, width, depth, current, bottom type, water color, turbidity,
bank vegetation, and any other factors that seemed likely to affect
the 'distribution and abundance of the plants. The entire stream
system was divided into 15 major reaches for purposes of
summarizing data on occurrence and abundance (Fig. 1, Table 1).
Voucher specimens were collected for deposit in the herbaria of the
University of Wisconsin at Madison and Whitewater.
Nomenclature follows Fassett (1960) except where there are more
recent revisions. State Trunk Highway and County Trunk Highway
are herein abbreviated STH and CTH.

ECOLOGICAL REGIONS OF THE RIVER SYSTEM

The stream system may be divided into three ecological regions:
(1) The small upstream portions (Reaches 1 and 2 of the Pine and 7
and 9 of the Popple, plus the tributaries in the western part of the
watershed, especially Kimball, McDonald, Jones and Lilypad
Creeks) flow slowly over sand or silt substrates. They drain
extensive wetlands and often meander through wet meadows.
Beaver dams are common, although most have been removed to
improve trout habitat. Lake-like portions on the North Branch of
the Pine and in the headwaters of the Popple are heavily silted.

(2) The medium-sized reaches in the center of the system (Reaches
3, 4 and 5 of the Pine, and 8 and 10 of the Popple )are characterized
by areas with fast currents and coarse substrates alternating with
areas of slow currents and fine substrates. Many rapids and falls
occur where the rivers flow over granite, gneiss and metamorphic
bedrock. The hydroelectric dam and reservoir on the Pine River

Table 1. Characteristics of major stream reaches.

152

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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154

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Color/Turbidity brown medium brown none none

Comments small springs in Lamon-Tangue Creek cold water many fallen black spruce

Sec. 26 ca. 5-8 m wide in logs

alders, colorless

KIngstone Creek from Long Lake Outlet
Jones Creek FSR 2168 to Pine River Creek _

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

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156

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

form the downstream boundary of this region. Wetlands are not
common along the streams, which mostly flow through shallow but
narrow valleys in upland forests.

(3) The large downstream Reach 6 of the Pine River below the
dam is characterized by a deep V-shaped valley in sandy glacial
deposits. Currents are uniformly moderate and bottom materials
are mostly gravel to sand except near the mouth of the Pine where
the impoundment on the Menominee River forms a backwater. The
operation of the power dam causes a large daily fluctuation in
discharge, especially for the first two or three miles below the dam.

VEGETATION OF THE WATERSHED

The Pine-Popple River watershed is vegetated predominantly
with xeric to wet northern forests as described by Curtis (1959).
Cleared areas constitute less than 5% of the land area and are used
mostly for hay production. The well-drained uplands support a
complex mosaic of second-growth mixed evergreen and deciduous
forest that has been greatly affected by a history of logging and
burning. The poorly drained lowlands support mostly swamp
conifer forests dominated by black spruce (Picea mariana), white-
cedar (Thuja occidentalis), and tamarack (Larix laricina). Swamp
forests are extensive along the tributary streams of the western half
of the watershed, especially near the headwaters of the “South
Branch” of the Pine River and both branches of the Popple River.
These swamps are probably the source of the brown stain of the
water in these portions of the stream system. Deciduous flood plain
forests are very uncommon (e.g., the Pine River just upstream from
Wisconsin Hwy. 101).

Treeless wetlands are not extensive. There are a few Sphagnum
bogs in the forested lowlands, sedge mats along the shores of some
lakes, emergent Scirpus acutus stands in many lakes, and small
marshes along some lakeshores and stream banks, especially on
sediments deposited at the junctions with tributary streams. The
type of treeless wetland that is most extensive along the streams is
perhaps best described as northern sedge meadow (Curtis 1959), in
which grasses, broad-leaved herbs and low shrubs are usually also
important. Wet meadows occupy many of the floodplains of the
smaller streams. They are often inundated at high water stages and
include many old stream meanders that are in various stages of
succession from submerged aquatic vegetation to sedge meadow.
Sedge meadows are most extensive in the western half of the stream
system, especially along the Pine River upstream from the

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

157

confluence with the North Branch, along Kimball Creek in the same
region, the North Branch of the Pine River upstream from Windsor
Dam and near the Howell Lake outlet creek, the South Branch of the
Popple River south of Morgan Lake, and Halls Creek. The treeless
meadows intergrade with black spruce-tamarack swamp forest as
well as with thickets of willow (Salix) and alder (Alnus) that often
dominate the banks of the streams.

VEGETATION OF STREAMS

Identification Problems

Accurate identification of aquatic plants in the streams was
sometimes difficult, primarily because of the following three
factors: (1) Most of the plants in moderate to fast currents lacked
flowers and fruits that are often necessary for determination of
species. (2) Some species developed flowing-water forms— mostly
with unusually long flexible leaves— that are neither adequately
described in the taxonomic literature nor represented in herbarium
collections. (3) Some groups of species (especially in Potamogeton)
are taxonomically difficult even with flowers and fruit available.

The following genera presented particular problems in iden¬
tification:

(1) Sparganium : Although in rapidly flowing water they
produced only very thin and flexible completely submerged leaves
without keels, in quieter water the bur reeds often formed stiff,
keeled emergent leaves and sometimes flowers. Except for the
much larger S. eurycarpum, which was found at only two localities,
all flowering bur reeds were S. chlorocarpum. Some submerged
plants with broader leaves may have been another species such as S.
americanum, which is common in this region (Voss 1972). The much
more slender S. angustifolium was apparently restricted to lakes,
where it was very uncommon. Terrestrial forms such as S.
chlorocarpum var. acaule were not noted.

(2) Sagittaria : All emergent, flowering arrowheads that were
definitely identified were S. latifolia. It is possible however that
some young plants that were not collected were the morphologically
similar S. cuneata or S. engelmanniana. They never formed
submerged rosettes and grew only in places with little or no current.

Sagittaria cuneata was locally common in deep water with
moderate current, where it formed completely submerged rosettes
of flexible phylloidal ribbon leaves ranging from nearly linear
throughout to narrowly oblanceolate and about 15mm wide near the
apex. These plants often closely resembled Sparganium or
Vallisneria. The submerged ribbon leaves intergraded gradually

158

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

with the characteristic floating sagittate blades that formed in
quieter waters (Boigin 1955; Hotchkiss 1967). Although submerged
inflorescences were occasionally formed in August, no fruits or
emergent flowers were observed. Although in my experience this
form of S. cuneata is locally common in streams in the Western
Great Lakes area, it is seldom recognized or collected. It should be
added to the aquatic flora of the Brule River (Thomson 1944) on the
basis of several of Thomson’s unidentified collections in the UW-
Madison Herbarium.

(3) Potamogeton : The broad-leaved species P. richardsonii, P.
alpinus, P. gramineus and P. illinoensis all apparently hybridized
in the streams. The last two also intergraded in lakes. Hybrids are
reportedly common in our region (Ogden 1943; Stern 1961; Voss
1972) and several probable hybrid combinations were identified in
our collections by E. C. Ogden. Hybrids involving P. richardsonii
are fairly easily recognized by their half-clasping leaf bases,
moderately fibrous stipules, and moderately prominent main veins
in the leaves. Other hybrids are much more difficult to recognize,
especially if the plants are depauperate due to fast currents. Many
plants recorded in the field and listed in Table 2 as P. alpinus were
probably closer to P. gramineus.

Plants identified herein as P. nodosus were identified by E. C.
Ogden from our dried specimens as “perhaps an ecological form of
P. natans or P. illinoensis. ” These were locally abundant in deep
water and moderate currents of medium-sized to large streams.
They were usually completely submerged and formed great masses,
the shoots sometimes exceeding 2 m in length with leaves 1 m. Many
plants had linear leaves only 2 to 4 mm wide and suggested very
robust P. natans without floating leaves. These peculiar plants
seemed to intergrade with rather long and slender P. nodosus in a
few places with very slow currents (e.g., the lower Pine River below
Pine Creek). They occasionally formed flowers but no fruits.

In flowing water the linear-leaved species P.foliosus formed very
robust plants strikingly different from the much smaller and more
bushy plants of quiet water. Potamogeton pusillus , which is here
considered to include P. berchtoldii following Haynes (1974), only
formed small plants in quiet water, where it could not always be
distinguished from P. foliosus in the field.

(4) Ranunculus: The aquatic buttercups recorded all belonged to
the R. aquatilis complex. According to the world-wide monograph
by Cook (1966), the only Wisconsin species are R. trichophyllus and

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

159

R. longirostris , and most of the vegetative characters traditionally
used to separate the species in this complex (see Fernald 1950;
Gleason 1963) are too plastic to be reliable. All our flowering or
fruiting specimens have the small flowers, greenish sepals, short
peduncles, and deciduous styles characteristic of R. trichophyllus.

(5) Elodea: the few flowering specimens collected apparently are
E. nuttallii (E, occidentalis). These include both pistillate plants
with the very small attached flowers and staminate plants with the
detached floating flowers characteristic of this species. The leaves
are mostly 1.5 to 2.5 mm wide, and on several pistillate collections
are 2.5 to 3.0 mm wide, whereas E. nuttallii is supposed to have
leaves only 0.3 to 1.3 mm wide (St. John 1965). As our one flowering
collection from quiet water (the impoundment on the South Branch
of the Popple) has mostly leaves only 1.5 mm wide, it seems likely
that Elodea nuttallii forms unusually broad leaves in flowing
water. Although E. canadensis is very common in the upper Great
Lakes region and we observed many vegetative plants with
relatively short leaves to 3 mm broad, the presence of this species in
the Pine-Popple system has not been verified from flowering plants.

(6) Nymphaea and Nuphar: Flowering water lilies were very
uncommon in flowing water. The yellow lilies that were definitely
identified were Nuphar variegatum, and it is assumed that all
Nuphar observed belonged to this polymorphic species (Beal 1955).
The few white water lilies in flower were Nymphaea tuberosa. As
this species intergrades with N. odorata (Williams 1970), however,
the vegetative Nymphaea of the Pine-Popple River System were
identified to genus only.

(7) Fontinalis: As three very similar species were identified by
Dr. Winona Welch from our vouchers, field identifications of these
mosses were to genus only.

(8) Chara and Nitella: These taxonomically difficult genera were
identified to genus only pending study of the voucher specimens by
specialists.

Stream Bars and Banks

Wet bars of silt, sand or gravel were common in most of the
stream system, both along the banks and forming small islands in
the middle of the stream. Although these bars were submerged at
high water stages, which occurred approximately weekly during
the study period, they were often emergent at low stages. The
vegetation was usually a very dense cover of perennial herbs with
pioneer shrubs such as Salix spp. established on the more stable

160

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and, Letters [Vol. 66

areas. Most of the species we recorded are facultative aquatics that
also occur submerged or emergent in shallow water and therefore
are listed in the table of aquatic plants herein. Of the following
characteristic species, the four indicated with an asterisk were
probably most important: Agrostis stolonifera, Callitriche verna ,
Cardamine pennsylvanica , Car ex rostrata, *Eleocharis eryth-
ropoda (E. calva), E. smallii, Equisetum fluviatile , *Glyceria
grandis , *G. striata , Leersia oryzoides, Sagittaria latifolia ,
*Scirpus validus, Sparganium chlorocarpum , Typha latifolia.

The stream banks of most of the system were densely vegetated
and therefore stabilized by plants of diverse herbaceous and woody
communities that were not studied in detail. The only prominently
eroding banks were noted in Reach 6 along the lower Pine River
downstream from CTH U where the river has cut down through an
area of sandy hills.

General Nature of the Aquatic Vegetation

Aquatic vegetation was present in all major reaches of the stream
system. The amount present was extremely variable, however.
Vegetation cover occasionally approached 100% and at the other
extreme many reaches, usually a mile or less long, were barren of
vegetation. Where present, plants usually covered no more than 5 to
10% of the substrate.

About 50 truly aquatic macrophyte species belonging to 30
genera and 25 families were recorded in the streams (Table 2). By
far the most diverse family was Potamogetonaceae, with 17 species
of Potamogeton recorded. The remaining families were represented
by only one or two species each except for Cyperaceae with four
unimportant species. Although flowering plants predominated,
charophyte algae (Chara and Nitella ), mosses (Fontinalis), and
horsetails (Equisetum) were locally common. Among macroscopic
plants not covered in this report, aquatic leafy liverworts (e.g.
Porella pinnata), as well as both crustose and foliose lichens, were
occasional on rocks in rapids. Filamentous green algae ( Cladophora
and others,) were locally abundant attached to most kinds of
substrates, occasionally forming very large colonies approaching
the flowering plants in size.

Abundance and Distribution of Species

Both the abundance and distribution of the species in the stream
system were extremely variable. Total abundance values for the
various species, computed by summing the relative abundances in
the 17 major reaches listed in Table 2, provide a rough quantifica-

Table 2. Distribution and relative abundance of aquatic vascular plants, bryophytes and charophytes in major reaches of the
Pine and Popple Rivers and five tributary creeks.1

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

161

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(occidental^)

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1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

163

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164

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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166

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

167

tion of the relative abundance of each species in the entire stream
system. The maximum possible value is 51. The 10 most abundant
plants and their values were Sparganium 38, Potamogeton
richardsonii 26, P. alpinus (probably often including P. gramineus
and hybrids) 26, Elodea 25, Callitriche vema 19, Ranunculus 16,
Sagittaria cuneata 15, Potamogeton epihydrus 15, P. nodosus 13,
and P. obtusifolius 13. Of these Callitriche occurred only as small
scattered plants on shallow bars and in backwaters, whereas the
others formed large, extensive colonies and were important
components of the vegetation of the main channels of the streams.
About one-half of the species had abundance values of 5 or less,
reflecting the fact that most species were either very locally
distributed or very uncommon. The distribution of many plants
(e.g. Elodea , Ranunculus , Potamogeton epihydrus) seemed to be
without pattern. Distinctive distribution patterns were evident
among some of the less abundant species, however. For example,
Potamogeton obtusifolius was mostly restricted to smaller streams,
P. nodosus was restricted to larger streams, and Vallisneria was
restricted to the Pine River downstream from the power dam. A
particularly interesting distribution pattern was evident among a
group of common lake species that were largely restricted to
impoundments and to the slow-moving headwaters regions of the
Pine River, Halls Creek and Long Lake outlet creek (see Vegetation
of Lakes and Impoundments). Another group of plants were mostly
restricted to a backwater at the mouth of the Pine River at its
junction with the Menominee River (Reach 6b, Table 2).

Growth Form

The vegetation was composed mostly of submerged rhizomatous
perennials such as the rosette-forming plants with long ribbon
leaves ( Sparganium , Sagittaria cuneata , Vallisneria) and plants
with long flexible leafy shoots (mostly Potamogeton). Plants forming
dense bushy masses (especially Elodea and Ranunculus) were
locally important. Other growth forms as described by Fassett
(1930), Sculthorpe (1967) and Westlake (1975) were relatively
unimportant. Curiously, the small rosette plants typical of
oligotrophic lakes (Fassett 1930; Swindale and Curtis 1957) were
absent from the streams even though they were present in several
lakes. In the more rapid current, plants usually formed completely
submerged, depauperate shoots only 10-20 cm long, whereas in
slower current plants of the same species often formed dense masses
reaching or emerging from the surface, the leafy shoots or
individual leaves reaching 1-2 m in length.

168

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Aquatic Communities

The vegetation at any one place usually consisted of a mosaic of
discrete colonies, each of which was composed of one to three
species. Similar mosaics were described for streams in Kentucky by
Minckley (1963) and in Great Britain by Butcher (1933). Diversity
was low, as is true of aquatic vascular plant communities in general
(Curtis 1959; Hynes 1970). Only about 1 to 5 species occurred in
short reaches of about 30 m with a maximum of 14 species in reaches
of about a mile in length.

The instability of the stream habitat probably prevents develop¬
ment of climax communities in the usual sense (Hynes 1970). The
presence of well-developed vegetation in terms of both species
diversity and size of plants probably indicates relatively stable local
environmental conditions. Examples of such apparently stable
reaches with well-developed vegetation are the Pine River between
La Salle F alls and the power plant impoundment, portions of Reach
10 of the Popple River between Big and Little Bull Falls, two
portions of Reach 1 of the North Branch of the Pine, several portions
of Reach 3 of the Pine, the very wide and slowly flowing part of
Reach 9 of the South Branch of the Popple, the delta of the Pine
River at its junction with the Menominee, Halls Creek and Long
Lake outlet creek.

In view of the probable absence of climax communities stream
mactophyte community types in the Pine-Popple system are better
defined using physical habitat features and growth form of the
vegetation rather than species composition. The most important
habitat factors appear to be current rate and the very closely related
substrate type. For the sake of simplicity the following classifica¬
tion of community types ignores size of stream, variability in
current, damming by beavers, nature of the surrounding land and
other factors that may be locally important.

(1) Torrential reaches with rocky substrates. These were nearly
barren of macrophytes except for a few algae, bryophytes and
lichens on the rocks. Small colonies of Sparganium and other rooted
species occasionally occurred in places protected from the strong
current. Most quiet pools between rapids contained only a few
scattered plants or were barren of vegetation.

(2) Areas of fast to moderate currents with cobble, gravel or sand
substrates and vegetation of submerged rhizomatous plants that do
not usually form silt mounds but are effective in stabilizing bottom
materials. Plants developed to full size only in slower currents and

1978]

Smith — A quatic Macrophytes

169

on finer substrates. Fontinalis and large filamentous algae
attached to rocks were locally important in smaller streams.

(3) Areas as in type 2 but with vegetation consisting predominant¬
ly of dense bushy masses (especially Ranunculus and Elodea) that
are most effective in forming silt mounds.

(4) Reaches with very slow currents, silt or organic bottom and
often very dense vegetation of various growth forms including the
waterlilies (Nymphaea and Nuphar) and several large Potamogeton
species with floating leaves. This type was especially well developed
in the broad parts of South Branch of the Popple River (Reach 10),
Halls Creek (Reach 12) and other reaches that represent a transition
between stream habitats and eutrophic lake habitats, as well as in
the man-made impoundments

(5) Permanently submerged bars with little current and silt or
organic bottom, with submerged vegetation of most growth forms
except rootless plants, especially small, delicate plants of
Callitriche , Potamogeton pusillus and P. foliosus.

(6) Shallow areas, including bars and islands, with slow currents
and silty bottom and with mostly emergent reed-like vegetation
such as Sparganium and Equisetum.

(7) Deep channels in medium sized reaches where the current is
moderate near the surface but very slow near the bottom, the
vegetation predominantly bushy masses of rootless plants
(Ceratophyllum and Utricularia).

(8) Old channels partially cut off from the main stream with soft
black mud bottom, the vegetation often dense and consisting mostly
of submerged leafy plants such as Elodea, Ranunculus and
Potamogeton. These channels occurred only on the small streams,
were usually surrounded by sedge-grass-shrub meadows, and
usually held about enough water to float a canoe.

(9) Wet stream borders with vegetation consisting of perennial
herbaceous or woody plants that tolerate flooding at high water
stages. Plants rooted on the banks and floating out into tte streams
(Polygonum amphibium and Potentilla palustris) were occasional
in the smallest streams and beaver ponds.

(10) Braided reaches with little vegetation were occasional on the
smaller streams and supported most growth forms.
Environmental Relationships

Some of the apparent relationships between environmental
factors and the presence, luxuriance and species composition of the
vegetation are briefly discussed below. Since the stream habitat is

170

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

extremely complex and dynamic (Hynes 1970; Westlake 1975;
Haslam 1978), species-habitat relationships are exceptionally
difficult to determine.

All rooted aquatics that formed either extensive colonies by
means of rhizomes or dense masses probably were effective in
stabilizing bottom materials. Dense masses of plants, particularly
of “bushy” plants like Elodea and Ranunculus, also impeded the
flow of the water and thereby formed mounds of sediments
deposited among and downstream from the plants as described by
Butcher (1933), Gessner (1955) and Minkley (1963).

Both the amount and species composition of the vegetation varied
strikingly over short distances in most reaches without evident
differences in the habitat. It seems reasonable to assume that such
vegetational differences are often due to the instability typical of
stream habitats; catastrophic events such as scouring of bottom
materials at periods of high water, shifts in the channel, the
movement of ice formed on the bottom in winter, and the
impounding of smaller streams by beavers may suddenly eliminate
vegetation from local areas and therefore prevent the establishment
of stable communities.

As the Pine River was essentially barren of aquatic vegetation for
several miles below the dam to an area about one mile east of the
Florence County Highway N bridge, the power dam apparently has
a pronounced adverse effect on the vegetation, probably because of
the extreme daily fluctuations in discharge resulting from the
operation of the power plant. Farther downstream, vegetation
gradually increased in quantity and species diversity until it was
comparable to areas upstream from the impoundment.

Small streams that were heavily shaded by overhanging alders
were mostly barren of aquatic vegetation, whereas unshaded
portions of the same streams were often well vegetated. Except for
Woods Creek and some reaches of the smaller tributaries, streams
in the Pine-Popple system were rarely heavily shaded.

The current velocity obviously has major effects on both the
amount and species composition of the vegetation, although this
environmental factor is extremely difficult to assess. Current
largely determines average particle size of bottom materials as well
as the accumulation of organic materials and fine silt particles that
hold nutrients (Westlake 1975). General correlations between
current and growth form of vegetation were described under
Aquatic Communities and Growth Form. In addition, there was a
general correlation between species and current. Some species (e.g.

1978]

Smith— Aquatic Macrophytes

171

Sparganium chlorocarpum and most submerged rhizomatous
species) occurred in all but torrential currents, whereas others were
found mostly in a narrow range of currents. Species restricted
mostly to faster currents were Sagittaria cuneata and Heteranthera
duhia. Plants restricted to very slow currents and silty substrates
were the water-lilies, Callitriche, Potamogetonpusillus , unattached
plants ( Ceratophyllum , Utricularia and the floating duckweeds),
floating bank plants of community type 9 and all emergents except
Sparganium cholorcarpum.

Those few areas of bottom covered with dense layers of organic
material were usually barren of vegetation. The following are
notable examples: (1) The three reaches of the North Branch of the
Pine River described below in the discussion of turbidity; and (2)
just downstream from Kimball Creek in the upper Pine River,
where the bottom was covered with submerged woody twigs and
branches.

Vegetation was generally absent from water deeper than about
1.5 m. In addition, some species showed definite “preferences” for
particular water depths. Plants largely restricted to water deeper
than 1 m were Sagittaria cuneata and Potamogeton nodosus in
moderate currents, and Ceratophyllum and Utricularia vulgaris in
very slow currents. Plants largely restricted to shallow water were
Callitriche verna , Elodea, Potamogeton foliosus var. macellus, P.
pusillus , Ranunculus and all of the emergent aquatics.

The only three turbid reaches noted, all of which were bordered
by tamarack and white cedar swamps in slow flowing portions of
the North Branch of the Pine River, were nearly barren of
vegetation in contrast to the clear reaches immediately adjacent,
which were generally well vegetated. Two of these turbid reaches,
each about 1/2 mile long, were upstream from Windsor Dam, one in
Section 17 and the other in Sections 20 and 21; the third was just
upstream from a beaver pond about 1 mile downstream from
Windsor Dam in Section 15 or 22.

In all three reaches, numerous brown, flocculent masses of
organic bottom material a few cm in diameter were floating on the
surface, and the turbidity was apparently due to particles carried
into the water by gas bubbles formed in the finely divided organic
bottom. As these were also the only reaches in which this type of
bottom was noted, both the turbidity and lack of vegetation appear
to be related to bottom conditions.

Brown stain was especially pronounced in the water of Reach 2 of
the Pine River upstream from the junction with the North Branch,

172

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

in Reaches 7 and 8 of both branches of the Popple River, and in Jones
Creek. The stain was more pronounced during periods of high flow.
It apparently originated in the large tamarack and black spruce
swamps present near these reaches. It gradually became less
evident downstream, presumably due to dilution with clear waters,
until the Pine River below the junction with the Popple was nearly
colorless at low flow. Neither the amount of vegetation nor the
number of species were markedly different in the reaches with
brown water compared with the reaches with colorless water
(Tables 1 and 2).

Comparison of the available data on water chemistry (Mason and
Wegner 1970; Northeastern Wisconsin Regional Planning Commis¬
sion 1970; Oakes et al. 1973) with distribution of aquatic plants in
the Pine-Popple system reveals no obvious correlations. The effects
of water quality are suggested by the restriction of several species
(Table 2) to the mouth of the Pine River where water is impounded
by a power dam located on the Menominee River about two miles
downstream, as well as by the very dense masses of Potamogeton
nodosus in the lower Pine River (Reach 6) just downstream from the
entrance of Pine Creek, in which a nitrate concentration of 9.1
mg/1 — more than 10-fold higher than in most other analyses — was
reported by Oakes et al. (1973).

Plant assemblages recorded in particular major reaches always
included a mixture of species normally found in soft water and
oligotrophic habitats as well as species normally found in hard
water and eutrophic habitats according to the data of Moyle (1945)
and Swindale and Curtis (1957). The important “soft-water” species
were Callitriche verna, Potamogeton alpinus and P. epihydrus: the
important “hard-water” plants were Potamogeton richardsonii , P.
zoster if ormis, P. pectinatus, Ranunculus sp., and probably also
Elodea sp. and Sagittaria cuneata. It is therefore reasonable to
conclude that all major reaches were moderately rich in available
plant nutrients and could be termed mesotrophic. The electrical
conductivities and other parameters reported by Oakes et al. (1973)
fall generally in the range of the mesotrophic plant communities
studied by Swindale and Curtis (1957). Hard-water species (Groups
3 and 4 of Swindale and Curtis 1957) were about twice as important
in downstream reaches 4, 5, 6, 8 and 10 as in the upstream reaches 1,
2, 3, 7, and 9, suggesting that the general availability of nutrients
and hardness increased downstream as would be expected. Soft
water species were about equally abundant in both upstream and
downstream reaches.

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

173

Finally, two emergent species deserve special mention as
indicators of particular environmental conditions. Sparganium
eurycarpum was recorded only in two locations where unusually
high nutrient contents might by expected: on deep, soft organic
bottom in Long Lake outlet creek, which may receive septic
drainage from the resorts on Long Lake, and on silt bars near the
mouth of the Pine River, where water is backed up by a dam on the
Menominee River. In my experience in the Midwest, this species is
restricted to very eutrophic habitats and is probably a good
indicator of nutrient-rich conditions. Also, Scirpus validus , which
was very common on stream bars but absent from lakes, is mostly
restricted to pioneer habitats and thus is an indicator of disturbance
of the substrate (Smith 1973b).

Vegetation of Stream Reaches

The following brief characterization of the vegetation of the 14
major reaches emphasizes exceptional features. Because of the
great variability of most reaches, much information must be
omitted. Many tributary creeks not described separately are
described for about 100-200 m upstream from their mouths. See
Figure 1 and Table 1 for description of reaches and Table 2 for
species lists.

Reach 1. Very little in the upper reaches except in the slow reach
near the Howell Lake outlet creek; very dense and luxuriant, often
forming 50-100% cover, in three reaches east of Howell Lake near
the FSR 2434 and 2174 accesses in Sections 17, 18 and 20 of R13E,
T40N, and just west of STH 55 in Sections 23 and 26.

Reach 2. Generally very scattered and poor in species; dense beds of
Nitella and Fontinalis in and near the headwaters, deeply
submerged Ceratophyllum between Pine River Campgrounds and
Jones Dam. Kimball Creek:Most\y dense Sparganium , beds.

Reach 3. Moderately developed; greatest diversity (9 species) and
abundance in several reaches with moderate current and sandy
bottom upstream from the county line near FSR 2169 (Sections 11,
12 and 1 of R12E, T39N), where P. nodosus reached its upstream
limits in the Pine River.

Reach J. Mostly very scattered, with large areas barren; moderately
well developed in (1) a sandy reach about one mile long in Section 2
just upstream from Chipmunk Rapids which supported an
unusually rich flora of 9 species, (2) a cobbled reach about 100 m
long in the middle of Section 5 east of Chipmunk Rapids with 5
species and a plant cover of about 50%, and (3) a similar cobbled

174

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

reach with 6 species about 1/4 mile upstream from the Bessie
Babbet Lake outlet creek. Bessie Babbet Lake outlet creek:
Meandered through Typha latifolia marsh and wet meadow near
the lake and then conifer-hardwood forest to the river.

Reach 5. Often abundant and luxuriant, even in the main channel,
down to the rock ledge at Halls Creek just above the flowage, the 15
species generally similar to those of the reaches of the Pine
upstream from the Popple except that Potamogeton nodosus was the
most abundant species and both P. epihydrus and P. zosteriformis
were common. The Pine Flowage was largely barren of vegetation
except for locally dense colonies in the north arm.

Reach 6. Completely lacking for about three miles downstream
from the dam except for Fontinalis on rocks near the banks, then
Heter anther a, Potamogeton alpinus and Vallisneria (noted
elsewhere only at the Pine River mouth) gradually becoming
common to occasionally abundant in the north part of Section 26 and
south part of Section 23; P. nodosus nearly filling the main channel
just downstream from Pine Creek and occasionally abundant down
to the mouth; vegetation abundant and luxuriant in the semi-
impounded reach of about 3-400 m near the mouth; luxuriant and
rich in species in a backwater on the north side of the river mouth,
including several species recorded nowhere else in the streams.
Lepage Creek (Section 19, R19E, T39N): Barren of aquatic
vegetation.

Reach 7. Very luxuriant and completely filling the water in slowly
flowing reaches, common elsewhere; flora transitional between that
typical of flowing water and that typical of lakes; widest reaches
with little current dominated by Nitella and Utricularia vulgaris
with smaller colonies of Nuphar, Potamogeton alpinus , P.
epihydrus , P. zosteriformis , Ceratophyllum and Fontinalis;
narrower reaches with more current supporting abundant
Sparganium with some Sagittaria cuneata , Potamogeon zosterifor¬
mis and Callitriche.

Reach 8. Poorly developed in most reaches except for locally dense
stands of Sparganium throughout; moderately abundant and
diverse in the meandered reach in Sections 13, 14, and 23 (10
species) as well as in a reach in Section 18 south of Morgan Lake (9
species).

Reach 9. Locally luxuriant but some reaches barren; Potamogeton
alpinus generally common and 7 other species very local down to the
slow reach near FSR 2159; luxuriant, with 14 species, in about one

1978]

Smith— Aquatic Macrophytes

175

mile of slow-moving reaches upstream and mostly downstream
from FSR 2159 where Sparganium chlorocarpum, Sagittaria
cuneata, Elodea nuttallii , Potamogeton alpinus , P. obtusifolius and
P. pectinatus and P. zosteriformis dominant just above the
impoundment, which was about 60 m wide, nearly filled with silt,
and occupied by a dense stand of emergent Eleocharis “palustris”
and Leersia oryzoides as well as Potamogeton zosteriformis , P.
pectinatus and P. natans (observed in streams only in the upper
reaches of Halls Creek).

Reach 10. Often luxuriant except for rapids areas, with 14 species,
between the South Branch and Little Bull Falls (Section 14/23
boundary), especially in a region of swampy forest in the NE 1/4 of
Section 23 and SE 1/4 of Section 14; very luxuriant, with 14 species,
in a small reach downstream from the 2nd rapids below Little Bull
Falls; elsewhere very sparse.

Lamon-Tangue Creek: Abundant flowering Ranunculus.

Reach 11. Locally common but nowhere very luxuriant, much less
abundant than in Halls Creek, poor in species. Dooley’s Pond nearly
barren but with scattered, mature plants of 6 species including 4 not
observed elsewhere on Woods Creek. (Tables 2 and 3).

Reach 12. Locally abundant but absent from some areas; unusual
features were locally extensive colonies of musk-grass (Chara) and
several typical lake species, mostly between West Bass Lake and
Halls Lake; an unusually rich flora of 23 species; Sparganium
absent from Section 11, Chara , Nitella , Nuphar and Nymphaea
abundant and seven other typical lake species present in “Halls
Lake” (formed by large beaver dam).

Reach 13. Generally well-developed, Sparganium especially abun¬
dant, beaver ponds mostly barren.

Reach 11+. Locally dense, Potamogeton obtusifolius unusually abun¬
dant.

Reach 15. Mostly very dense and luxuriant except for some barren
areas with brown organic substrate; several large stands of
emergent Scirpus validus, Sparganium eurycarpum , S. chlorocar¬
pum and Typha latifolia.

VEGETATION OF LAKES AND IMPOUNDMENTS

The species and their relative abundance in 9 natural lakes and 5
artificial impoundments are listed in Table 3. Vegetation in most
lakes was very locally distributed, with fairly dense colonies
scattered in water about .6 to 1.8 m deep.

176

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

The lake flora was generally poor in both emergents and floating
plants. The only important emergent was Scirpus acutus , which
often formed colonies in 0.6 to 1.3 m of water, usually in sandy or
gravelly substrates. Its sister species S. validus, which was common
on stream bars, was recorded in lakes and impoundments only in
the Pine River Flowage. Other emergents (Eleocharis smallii ,
Dulichium arundinaceum, Sparganium angustifolium) were ex¬
tremely local. Floating plants (the duckweeds — Lemnaceae) were
limited to a small amount of Spirodela polyrhiza on Fay Lake. The
lack of duckweeds probably reflects the low nutrient content of most
of the surface waters in the lakes.

Submerged communities ranged from those typical of very
oligotrophic conditions to those typical of moderately eutrophic
conditions according to the ordination of Swindale and Curtis
(1957). Oligotrophic conditions were indicated by deeply submerg¬
ed dwarf rosette plants (Isoetes, Lobelia dortmanna, Eriocaulon
septangulare, Juncus pelocarpus and Eleocharis acicularis) in three
sandy lakes with very small inlets and outlets, most notably Morgan
but also Butternut and Keys Lakes. Relatively eutropic conditions
were indicated by communities of large plants with elongated leafy
stems (especially Potamogeton spp.) and floating-leaved plants
(Potamogeton natans , Nuphar, Nymphaea). The most extreme
eutrophic conditions were evident where large amounts of soft silt
and organic substrates had accumulated and were populated by
very dense colonies of large submerged plants. In the natural lakes,
eutrophic conditions were restricted to small deltas at the inlets
(e.g., Long and Fay Lakes), whereas in three of the impoundments
as described below eutrophic conditions extended throughout the
entire pond. No communities at the extremely eutrophic end of
Swindale and Curtis’ scale were noted.

The five artificial impoundments on the streams differed
strikingly in the luxuriance of vegetation. In the Pine River
FlowageTormed by the power dam, the plants covered only a very
small percentage of the bottom, even though water depths were
mostly less than 2 m, the water was quite transparent, and the river
was densely vegetated immediately upstream from the flowage.
“Dooley’s Pond” on Woods Creek was also very poorly vegetated. In
contrast, the following three impoundments were very densely
vegetated, the plants nearly filling the entire water mass: (1) The
small pond formed by a dam on the South Branch of the Popple
River about 1 1/2 miles due south of Morgan Lake, (2) “Halls Lake”
on Halls Creek, and (3) “Forest Lake Flowage” on Mud Creek, about

TABLE 3. Presence and relative abundance of aquatic macrophytes in lakes and impoundments of the Pine-Popple River

1978] Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

177

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Heteranthera
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Lobelia

dortmanna

Megalodonta
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Myriophyllum

exalbescens

M. tenellum

M. verticillatum

M. sp.

Naias

flexilis

1978]

Smith— Aquatic Macrophytes

179

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Nymphaea

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amphibium (natans)

Potamogeton alpinus
(tenuifolius)

P. amplifolius

P. epihydrus

P. filiformis

P. foliosus

P. friesii

P. gramineus

P. illinoensis

P. natans

180

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

181

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S. validus

Sparganium

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S. chlorocarpum

S. sp.

Spirodela

polyrhiza

Utricularia

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U. vulgaris

Vallisneria

americana

’Numbers refer to abundance: 1— rare to uncommon: 2— common; 3 — abundant, often forming extensive stands: x— present
but abundance unknown. *Found in impoundment only.

2E = emergent; S = submergent; F = floating.

182

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

1 1/2 miles west southwest of the village of Fence, Florence county.
It seems likely that the density of vegetation in these three
impoundments is due primarily to the fertility of their deep, soft,
black bottom sediments, which may have been deposited during
past logging and farming activities in the watersheds. The poor
development of vegetation in the Pine River Flowage may be due to
fluctuations in water level caused by operation of the power plant,
whereas the sparse vegetation in Dooley’s Pond may be due to the
same unknown factors that limit the vegetation in Woods Creek.

A comparison of the floras of lakes and impoundments with those
of streams shows that about 13 “lake plants” were mostly restricted
to lakes whereas about 14 “stream plants” were mostly restricted to
streams. The remaining species may be placed along a spectrum
between these two extremes, except for the species that were
recorded so infrequently that their habitat correlations are obscure.

The most notable “lake plants” were the five dwarf rosette plants
of oligotrophic habitats (Fassett 1930) as described above. The
following seven additional common lake plants were rare in
streams, where they were restricted to locations with little or no
current: Chara, Nuphar, Nymphaea, Potamogeton amplifolius, P.
illinoensis , P. natans and Scirpus acutus. The “stream plants”
include the three most important plants of the streams
(Sparganium chlorocarpum, Potamogeton alpinus and Ranun¬
culus). Somewhat less important “stream plants” are Callitriche
verna , Elodea, Equisetum fluviatile, Fontinalis , Heteranthera,
Potamogeton berchtoldii , P. foliosus, P. obtusifolius, P. nodosus,
Sagittaria cuneata and Scirpus validus (on bars). The following
species were about equally common in lakes and streams:
Potamogeton epihydrus, P. gramineus and P. zosteriformis.

The contrast between stream and lake floras is particularly
evident at lake inlets and outlets. Observations were made
especially at Keys, West Bass, Bessie Babbet, Long and Butternut
Lakes as well as at the impoundments studied. Characteristically,
there was a pronounced change in flora within 30 m or less along a
transect from the lake into the flowing water of the stream.
Calculations for two lakes (Keys and Bessie Babbet) and three
impoundments (Pine River Flowage, South Branch of Popple and
Dooley’s Pond) show that only about 5 to 35% of the total number of
species found in a particular lake and its inlet or outlet stream were
present in both the lake and the stream; in other words, from 65% to
95% of the species were restricted to either the lake or the stream. As
the lake floras usually included more species than did the stream

1978]

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

183

floras, more species were usually restricted to the lakes than to the
streams. Occasionally, as at the head of the Pine River at Butternut
Lake and at the outlet of Long Lake, fragments of typical lake plants
(e.g., Myriophyllum , Ceratophylium , Naias flexilis) were establish¬
ed just below the lake outlet, but these did not occur more than a
mile or two downstream.

A striking exception to the rule that stream vegetation differs
from lake vegetation is Long Lake outlet creek, which supported
luxuriant vegetation floristically more typical of lakes than streams
(Table 2). This stream is unusual (probably unique) in this region in
that it receives water over the top of a small dam from a lake that
has several resorts on its shores. The stream also has been strongly
influenced by construction of a railroad, a highway, and several
dwellings.

The only apparent cultural eutrophication of a lake was at Fay
Lake where massive floating blooms of filamentous algae (mostly
Cladophora) adjacent to a resort near the south end of the lake
suggested that large amounts of nutrients were entering the lake
from the resort.

LITERATURE CITED

Beal, E. 0., 1955. Taxonomic revision of the genus Nuphar Sm. of North America
and Europe. J. Elisha Mitchell Sci. Soc. 72:317-346.

Becker, George, 1972a. Wild rivers of northeastern Wisconsin (wild rivers
cooperative research project). Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts and Lett. 61:233-238.

Becker, George, 1972b. Annotated list of the fishes of the Pine-Popple basin. Trans.
Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts and Lett. 60:309-329.

Boigin, C., 1955. Revision of the genus Sagittaria (Alismaceae). Mem. N. Y. Bot.
Gard. 9:179-233.

Butcher, R. W., 1933. Studies on the ecology of rivers. J. Ecol. 21:58-91.

Cook, C. D. K., 1966. A monograph of Ranuculus subgenus Batrachium (D.C.) Gray.
Bot. Staatssammlung Munchen 4:47-237.

Curtis, John T., 1959. The vegetation of Wisconsin. Univ. Wis. Press, Madison. 657 p.

Fassett, Norman C., 1930. The plants of some northeastern Wisconsin lakes. Trans.
Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts and Lett. 25:157-168.

Fassett, Norman C., 1960. A manual of aquatic plants , 2nd ed. with Rev. Append, by
E. C. Ogden. Univ. Wis. Press, Madison. 405 p.

184 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Fernald, Merritt L., 1950. Gray’s manual of botany, eighth ed. Am. Book Co., N. Y.
1632 p.

Gessner, Fritz, 1955. Hydrobotanik. Vol. 1. Veb Deutscher Verlag der
Wissenschaften, Berlin. 517 p.

Gleason, Henry A., 1963. A new Britton and Brown illustrated flora of the
northeastern United States and adjacent Canada. 3 vols. Third printing, slightly
rev. N. Y. Bot. Gard., New York.

Haslam, Sylvia, 1978. River plants. Cambridge Univ. Press. 396 p.

Haynes, Robert R., 1974. A revision of North American Potamogeton subsection
pusilli (Potamogetonaceae). Rhodora 76:564-649.

Hole, Francis D., 1974. Wild soils of the Pine-Popple Rivers Basin. Trans. Wis. Acad.
Sci., Arts and Lett. 62:233-238.

Hotchkiss, Neil, 1967. Underwater and floating-leaved plants of the United States
and Canada. Resour. Publ. 44, Bur. Sport Fish, and Wildlife, Washington, D. C.
123 p.

Hunt, George S., 1963. Wild celery in the lower Detroit River. Ecology 44:359-370.

Hynes, H. B. N, 1970. The ecology of running waters. Univ. Toronto Press. 555 p.

Mason, John W. and Gerald D. Wegner, 1970. Wild rivers fish populations (Pine,
Popple and Pike Rivers). Res. Rep. 58, Dep. Nat. Resour., Madison, Wis. 42 p.

Minkley, W. L., 1963. The ecology of a spring stream: Doe Run, Meade County,
Kentucky. Widl. Monog. No. 11:1-124.

Moyle, John B., 1945. Some chemical factors influencing the distribution of aquatic
plants in Minnesota. Am. Midi. Nat. 34:402-420.

Northeastern Wisconsin Regional Planning Commission, 1970. Water quality and
flow of streams in northeastern Wisconsin. Appleton, Wisconsin. 267 p.

Oakes, Edward, etal., 1973. The Pine-Popple River Basin — hydrology of a wild river
area, northeastern Wisconsin. Geol. Surv. Water-Supply Pap. 2006, U. S. Dep.
Int., Geol. Surv., Washington, D. C. 57 p., map.

Ogden, Eugene C., 1943. The broad-leaved species of Potamogetonof North America
north of Mexico. Rhodora 45:57-112, 119-168, 171-216.

Peterson, Arthur R., 1962. A biological reconnaissance of the Upper Mississippi
River. Invest. Rep. No. 255. Minn. Dep. Conserv., Minneapolis. 29 p. plus
append.

Ricker, William E., 1934. An ecological classification of certain Ontario streams.
Univ. Toronto Studies Biol. Ser. No. 37:1-114.

19781

Smith — Aquatic Macrophytes

185

St. John, Harold, 1965. Monograph of the genus Elodea : Part 4 and summary. The
species of Eastern and Central North America. Rhodora 67:1-180.

Sculthorpe, C. D., 1967. The biology of aquatic vascular plants. Edward Arnold,
London. 610 p.

Smith, Lloyd L. and John B. Moyle, 1944. A biological survey and fishery
management plan for the streams of the Lake Superior watershed. Tech. Bull.
No. 1, Minn. Dep. Conserv., Minneapolis.

Smith, S. Galen, 1973a. Ecological studies of the surface waters of the Whitewater
Creek watershed, Walworth, Rock and Jefferson Counties, Wisconsin. Univ.
Wis. Water Resour. Center, Madison. 75 p.

Smith, S. Galen, 1973b. Ecology of the Scirpus lacustris complex in North America.
Polish Arch. Hydrobiol. 20:215-216.

Stern, Kingsley R., 1961. Chromosome numbers in nine taxa of Potamogeton. Bull.
Torrey Bot. Club 88:411-414.

Swindale, Dell N. and J. T. Curtis, 1957. Phytosociology of the larger submerged
plants in Wisconsin lakes. Ecology 38:397-407.

Thomson, John W., 1944. A survey of the larger aquatic plants and bank flora of the
Brule River. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts and Lett. 36:57-76.

Voss, Edward G., 1972. Michigan flora. Part I. Gymnosperms and monocots.
Cranbrook Inst. Sci. and Univ. Mich. Herbarium, Bloomfield Hills, Mich. 488 p.

Westlake, D. F. 1975. Macrophytes, In Whitton, Brian A. {ed.) River Ecology. Studies
in Ecology , vol. 2. Univ. Calif. Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles, pp. 106-128.

Williams, Gary R., 1970. Investigations in the white waterlilies (Nymphaea) of
Michigan. The Mich. Bot. 9:72-86.

THE STATUS OF THE TIMBER WOLF
IN WISCONSIN - 1975

Richard P. Thiel

Tomah , Wisconsin

ABSTRACT:

Wisconsin’s breeding population of timber
wolves ( Canis lujpus) was exterminated
in the late 1950’s. The results of a summer
and winter search and a review of reported observations indicates
that wolves are present, at least sporadically, in Wisconsin. Wolves
currently existing in this state are believed to be immigrants from
the Minnesota population. Human activity apparently prevents
wolves from successfully reestablishing themselves in Wisconsin.
Wolf populations in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and in
Wisconsin are extensions of the Minnesota peripheral wolf range.

INTRODUCTION

The eastern timber wolf ( Canis lupus lycaon) is classified as an
endangered species under the Endangered Species Act of 1966. The
only viable populations existing in the conterminous United States
are in northern Minnesota and in Isle Royale National Park,
Michigan (Hendrickson, et al, 1975).

The native wolf population in the state of Wisconsin declined
rapidly during the early 1950’s (Keener, 1970) and was probably
eliminated by 1960. However, periodic sign of these animals has
been noted in the state since 1960. This study was made to determine
the status of the timber wolf in Wisconsin in 1975. Field searches
were conducted in three northern Wisconsin areas to determine if
wolves were present during the summer of 1974 and winter of 1974-
75. All three areas (Fig. 1) are located within the northern
highlands geographical region (Martin, 1932) and are dominated
by aspen (Populus tremuloides), sugar maple (A cer saccharum), and
red maple (A. rubrum) on the well drained sites, and by balsam fir
{Abies balsamea), white spruce ( Picea glauca), and black spruce (P.
mariana) in the lowlands. The field work in 1974 was funded by the
University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point (UWSP) and the United
States Forest Service (USFS).

186

1978]

Thiel — Timber Wolf in Wisconsin

187

© Present range of timber wolf in Michigan (Hendrickson, et. al., 1975)
Consistent use areas of timber wolf in Wisconsin
- • 1946-48 timber wolf range, Wisconsin (Thompson, 1952; Thiel, unpubl. notes)

Fig. 1. Timber wolf range in Wisconsin and Upper Peninusla of Michigan — 1975.

METHODS

Data on Wisconsin wolf activity had been collected between 1969
and 1974. Thirty -one individuals (trappers, permanent residents in
areas of former wolf activity, and professional biologists) were
contacted and 132 responses were received from the surveys.
Reports were reviewed and accepted as valid only if the person
reporting had a professional wildlife background or was considered
a reliable observer.

A method of using broadcast howls is accepted for censusing
wolves in heavily forested regions (Pimlott, et al., 1969). Joslin and
Pimlott (1968) were also successful with this method in establishing
the presence of red wolves (Canis rufus) in the southcentral United
States. Broadcast howls were used to search for timber wolves in
this study.

Tape-recorded howls were obtained from a recording of wolf
howls produced by the US Museum of Natural History and were
tested on captive wolves at Eagle, Wisconsin. The broadcasting
equipment included an amplifier (20 watts); two high fidelity
speakers (tweeter and woofer) mounted on top of an automobile; HF
Control/crossover network (1000 cycles); and a Wollensac tape
recorder. The system was powered by a 12-volt battery with a DC to
AC converter. A second tape recorder (Soni) was equipped with a
recording parabola to record wolf response. Broadcast howls had a
minimum range of 1.6 km (1 mi.) in dense conifer cover with little or
no wind. Human imitations of howls had a minimum range of 1.2
km (0.75 mi.) under the same conditions. Howls were broadcast at

188

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

1.2 to 2.0 km (0.75 to 1.25 mi) intervals, depending on wind. Human
imitation of howls were used twice in areas inaccessible by
automobile. Howls were broadcast for a period of two minutes and
were followed by a listening period of four to five minutes. Howls
were broadcast on 28 days between 16 July and 21 August, 1974; a
time designated as a period of peak responsiveness (Joslin, 1967;
Harrington, personal communications). Most howling was broad¬
cast between sunset and midnight, the daily peak in responsiveness
(Joslin, 1967). Additional howling was conducted between midnight
and 0700 Central Standard Time (CST).

Track searches were made in the three study areas between 19
December, 1974 and 6 January, 1975. Roads in the study areas were
traveled by slow moving automoble while an observer watched for
tracks near the road.

All scats greater than 28 mm were collected for analysis. Tracks
over 76 mm in diameter were considered potential wolf tracks; the
arrangement and shape of the track aided in differentiating
between large dog (Canis familiaris ) and wolf.

RESULTS

Eighty-three observations of wolves or their sign were reported
between 1 January, 1968 and 31 December, 1975. A minimum of 83
wolves were involved. Numbers of wolves were not reported in 19
instances. Single wolves were reported 50 times (60 percent) two
wolves 12 times (29 percent); and trios on three (11 percent)
occasions (Table 1).

Table 1. Reported observations of timber wolves in Wisconsin.

Year

Number of

Observations Number of wolves

Singles

Pairs

Trios

1968

6

10

5

1

1

1969

7

8

6

1

1970

6

7

5

1

1971

7

11

4

2

1

1972

9

10

8

1

1973

16

21

12

3

1

1974

9

10

8

1

1975

4

6

2*

2

Total

64

83

50

12

3

Average/yr.

8

10.3

““includes one car-killed animal.

1978]

Thiel — Timber Wolf in Wisconsin

189

Reports were clustered in four areas of which three were studied.
Seventeen observations of wolves were reported from the Willow
Flowage area (Willow Area) of west-central Oneida and east-
central Price Counties. There were 31 observations reported from
the northern portion of the Nicolet National Forest (Alvin Area) of
eastern Vilas and northern Forest Counties, and nine observations
in the No Mans Lake area of northeastern Iron and northwestern
Vilas Counties. The fourth area in northeastern Washburn County
(Fig. 1) was not studied although reports indicated occasional
wolves.

Howling

Howls were broadcast for a total of 956 minutes over a distance of
1228 km (763 mi.). Listening time totaled 2811 minutes. A single
timber wolf responded to human imitated howls on 16 August, 1974
at 1947 hours CST in the Alvin Area. This was the only wolf
response elicited during the study. Coyotes ( Canis latrans) replied
to broadcasts of timber wolf howls on 39 occasions.

Winter tracking

The search for tracks covered 917 km (570 mi.) of road from 19
December to 21 December, 1974 in the Alvin, Willow and No Mans
Lake Areas. From 2 January through 5 January, 1975, 1012 km
(629 mi.) were traveled in the three study areas. Wolf tracks were
not seen in any of the study areas during the survey.

Scat analysis

Five scats were collected from the Alvin Area during July and
August, 1974. All scats were collected from roads and the diameters
ranged from 29-40 mm. Red-backed vole ( Clethrionomys gapperi)
and meadow vole ( Microtus pennsylvanicus) remains were found in
100 percent and 80 percent of the five scats respectively. Snowshoe
hare ( Lepus americanus) and insects each occurred in 60 percent of
the scats. Grasses, balsam fir, and spruce fragments appeared in
100 percent, 40 percent, and 40 percent, respectively. Although scat
volumes were not measured, voles were the primary and hare the
secondary food items.

DISCUSSION

Distribution of wolves

Definite patterns in wolf activity are apparent from the
distribution of observations in the northern counties. Random,
sporadic activity is evident throughout northern Wisconsin. A
report of a wolf wandering through a particular locality typifies
such activity. Most areas do not possess adequate space secluded

190

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

from human habitation and wolf activity is transitory.

In contrast, consistent use occurs in one northwestern and three
north-central Wisconsin localities. Wolf activity is most intense in
these areas where dispersing animals have the greatest amount of
secluded habitat. Three of these areas lie within those that were the
last to be inhabited by small family groups of wolves in the 1950’s.
Similar activity was also noted in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in
recent years (Hendrickson, et al., 1975).

The Alvin Area, in the northern Nicolet National Forest, was the
only area where timber wolf sign was located during the summer
field work. Tracks of a pair of wolves were located on 9 March, 1975
less than 0.4 km (0.25 mi.) from the August, 1974 howl response.
Wolves were not evident in the Alvin Area during the winter track
survey suggesting that wolves using this region are probably
wanderers and occasional visitors.

The Alvin Area wolf activity should be classified as contiguous
with a range in Iron County, Michigan (Hendrickson, et al., 1975).
Since the 1940’s, Don Lappala has kept records of timber wolf
activity in the Iron River, Michigan region. His reports since 1960,
coupled with my findings during the past seven years, indicate that
Wisconsin shares a small, unstable wolf population with the Upper
Peninsula of Michigan (Fig. 1, Table 2).

Table 2. Yearly fluctuations in numbers of wolves reported from the Willow and
Alvin, Wisconsin consistent use areas, and from southern Iron County, Michigan.1

Year

Number of wolves

Willow Alvin Southern Iron Co.,

Mich.1

1967

-

3

-

1968

3

1-2

1

1969

1

0

1

1970

1-2

1

1

1971

1-2

1

42

1972

1-2

1

3

1973

1-2

1-3

1

1974

1

1

2

1975

0

2

2

Total (9 yrs.)

9-13

10-13

16

1 Data supplied by Don Lappala, Iron River, Michigan.

2 Two different pairs.

1978]

Thiel — Timber Wolf in Wisconsin

191

Developments in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan since the work
of Hendrickson, et al., (1975) support the wolf distribution data
from Wisconsin. In Menominee County, Michigan hunters shot a
male wolf in November, 1974 and a female wolf in March, 1975. Of
particular interest was a wolf, identified as a pup (Hendrickson,
personal communications), killed by a deer hunter in the same
county in November, 1966. Van Ballenburghe,etal. (1975) reported
that pups in Minnesota were capable of extensive movements in late
October, but that such movements were confined to the respective
pack ranges. Kuyt (1972) studied a migratory Canadian wolf
population and reported the recovery of a wolf pup 25.7 km (16 mi.)
from its original point of capture in November, 1965. It is
improbable that the Michigan pup dispersed from Ontario or
Minnesota; it was more likely born in Michigan. Although sporadic
breeding may help to maintain Michigan’s small wolf population,
Hendrickson, et al. (1975) overlooked this incident (Robinson;
Hendrickson, personal conmunications). These recent occurrences
east of Marinette County, Wisconsin, indicate the possibility of
occasional use of northeastern Wisconsin by wolves.

State Population

The evidence (i.e., Hendrickson, et al., 1975; Weise, et al., 1975;
and that in this paper) suggests that northern Wisconsin and the
Upper Peninsula Michigan should be considered as one wolf range
contiguous with Minnesota’s peripheral wolf area. The actual
number of wolves in W isconsin is not known, but is undoubtedly low
(Table 1). The number of wolves recorded for each year of this study
provide a rough indication of the magnitude of the unstable
Wisconsin population.

Maintenance of numbers

The presence of wolves in Wisconsin appears to be a result of
individuals immigrating from Minnesota rather than of breeding
in Wisconsin. A lone radio-tagged wolf in Minnesota traveled 207
air km (129 mi.) after release before its signal was lost (Mech, et al.,
1971). Since the northwestern tier of counties in Wisconsin is
approximately 193 km (120 mi.) from the primary wolf range and
borders the peripheral wolf range in Minnesota it is probable that
dispersing wolves do enter W isconsin. Keener (1970) reported that a
wolf was killed by a car in Douglas County in 1966. A 26.3 kg (58 lb.)
yearling female wolf was killed by a car in the same county on 3
August, 1975. It is likely that both wolves were dispersing from
Minnesota.

192

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Habitat in Wisconsin

In addition to large blocks of land where wolves can roam, good
wolf habitat requires adequate ungulate densities and secondary
prey populations. Current deer populations ( Odocoileus
virginianus) in northern Wisconsin are approximately 3.9/km2
(10/mi2) (Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, Unpubl.
figures). This density can support wolves (Pimlott, 1967). Beaver
(Castor canadensis ) and snowshoe hare, considered secondary prey
items of wolves in the Great Lakes region (Stebler, 1944; Mech,
1970), are present in northern Wisconsin. From the standpoint of
food Wisconsin is capable of supporting wolves; however, large
blocks of land where wolves can complete their normal life cycle
unmolested are presently not available. Weise, et al. (1975)
tabulated data on human densities occurring in several wolf ranges
in the upper Great Lakes region. Wisconsin shows the highest
densities with a rural population of 4.75 persons/km2 (12.3
persons/mi.2). High human density reflects a large, well developed
rural road system which exposes wolves to an unnaturally high
mortality rate caused by man. Mech (1973) stated that in areas of
Minnesota with high road densities, lone wolves and occasional
pairs constituted the largest social units and full-sized packs seldom
had the chance to develop (Table 2). He observed that small
populations persisted in accessible areas since there was a
recruitment of wolves “ . . . from the reservoir packs in wilderness
areas”.

A human density of 0.7 persons/km2 (1.8 persons/mi.2) is found in
the 466 km2 (180 mi.2) Willow Area and in the 1093 km2 (422 mi.2)
Alvin Area. Although this low human density enhances wolf
habitat, the quality of these quasi-wilderness blocks is diminished
by recreational pressure exerted by surrounding areas of high
human density.

Limiting factors

At this time, deer hunters and coyote trappers are the greatest
threat to timber wolves in Wisconsin. Hendrickson et al. (1975)
attributed current low wolf numbers in Michigan to mortality from
hunting and trapping. Two of four wolves transplanted into
Michigan were shot, one was trapped, and one was killed by a car
(Weise, et al., 1975). In addition, three native wolves were killed by
hunters and one by a snowmobiler in recent years (Michigan
Department of Natural Resources files).

Deterioration of Wisconsin’s present wolf habitat may accelerate
in the near future. Increased emphasis on year-round recreation

1978]

Thiel— Timber Wolf in Wisconsin

193

and continued expansion of vacation home construction in northern
Wisconsin may eventually destroy the last of Wisconsin’s wild
regions.

Recommendations

To reverse the deteriorating conditions which adversely affect the
wolf, it is recommended that the Wisconsin Department of Natural
Resources:

1) Require mandatory registration of coyotes taken in wolf
activity areas. This may isolate the probable manner (i.e.,
trapping, sport and deer hunting) of wolf mortality.

2) Support effective zoning on federally or state owned lands to
restrict the amount and type of human activity in the wilder
regions.

3) Seek legislation that would allow farmers 100 percent
unconditional reimbursement for depredations on livestock
where coyotes and/or timber wolves were the proven cause of
death (The current reimbursement is 80 percent of assessed
value if the farmer’s land is not posted against hunting).

4) Institute a public awareness program emphasizing the
realistic, positive and negative aspects of the wolf.

If these steps are taken the final extirpation of the wolf in
Wisconsin may be prevented. These actions may also enhance the
possibility that wolves may be reintroduced successfully. Eventual
reestablishment of a breeding stock of wolves is desirable* It is
possible that northern Wisconsin will yet provide habitat for this
unique wilderness species.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance of: Dr. R. K.
Anderson, WUSP Professor of Wildlife; Dr. C. A. Long and the
UWSP Museum of Natural History; and Dr. D. 0. Trainer, UWSP
Dean of the College of Natural Resources. Special thanks go to
Larry Martoglio, USFS biologist, Dr. Ruth L. Hine, Wisconsin
Department of Natural Resources, and to the personnel of the
Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin Departments of Natural
Resources who helped in gathering data. Finally, the author wishes
to mention the able assistance of Steven Beuchel, UW SP student for
help in field work, and Don Lappala, retired US Forest Service, for
supplying valuable data.

194

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

LITERATURE CITED

Anonymous. 1975. Blue book. State of Wisconsin Legislative Reference Bureau.
Dept, of Administration. Madison, Wis. 900 p.

Hendrickson, J., W. L. Robinson, and L. D. Mech. 1975. The status of the wolf in
Michigan — 1973. Am. Midi. Nat. 94: 226-232.

Joslin, P. 1967. Movements and homesites of timber wolves in Algonquin Park. Am.
Zool. 7: 279-288.

- - and D. H. Pimlott. 1968. The status and distribution of the red wolf.

Trans. 33rd N. Am. Wildl. and Nat. Res. Conf.: 373-389.

Keener, J. M. 1970. History of the wolf in Wisconsin. In: S. E. Jorgensen, C. E.
Faulkner, and L. D. Mech (eds.). Proceedings of a symposium on wolf
management in selected areas of North America. U.S. Fish and Wildl. Serv.,
Twin Cities, Minn. (p. 4-5).

Kuyt, E. 1972. Food habits of wolves on barren ground caribou range. Can. Wildl.
Serv. Rep. Series No. 21. 36 pp.

Martin, L. 1932. The physical geography of Wisconsin. Univ. Wis. Press. Madison,
Wis. 608 p.

Mech, L. D. 1970. The wolf : ecology and behavior of an endangered species. Nat. Hist.
Press. Garden City, N. Y. 384 p.

_ and L. D. Frenzel, Jr. eds. 1971. Ecological studies of the timber wolf in

northeastern Minnesota. North Cent. For. Exp. Stn., St. Paul, Minn. USDA For.
Serv. Res. Pap. NC-52. 62 pp.

_ 1973. Wolf numbers in the Superior National Forest of Minnesota. North

Cent. For. Exp. Stn., St. Paul, Minn. USDA For. Serv. Res. Paper NC-97. 10 pp.

Pimlott, D. H., J. A. Shannon, and G. B. Kolenosky. 1969. The ecology of the timber
wolf in Algonquin Provincial Park. Ont. Dept. Lands and For., Res. Rep. (Wildl.)
No. 87. 92 p.

Stebler, A. M. 1944. The status of the wolf in Michigan. J. Mammal., 25: 37-43.

Thompson, D. Q. 1952. Travel, range, and food habits of timber wolves in Wisconsin.
J. Mammal., 33: 429-442.

Van Ballenberghe, V., A. W. Erickson, and D. Byman. 1975. Ecology of the timber
wolf in northeastern Minnesota. Wildl. Monogr., No. 43. 43 p.

Weise, T., W. L. Robinson, R. A. Hook, and L. D. Mech. 1975. An experimental
translocation of the eastern timber wolf. Audubon Cons. Rep. No. 5. 28 p.

LOSS OF ELM FROM SOME LOWLAND FORESTS
IN EASTERN WISCONSIN

Thomas F. Grittinger

University of Wisconsin Center —
Sheboygan

ABSTRACT

L

owl and forest communities in eastern Wiscon¬
sin have been decimated by Dutch elm disease
(Ceratocystis ulmi). The three lowland stands
studied were first infested in the early 1960s; many of the mature
elms (mostly Ulmus americana) died long ago but their trunks are
still standing. Incorporation of dead elm stems into importance
value and density calculations reveal the former importance of elm
in these communities. Density and basal area per hectare were
substantially reduced by the loss of the larger elms. At present these
stands include live elms, primarily in the smaller size classes. Elm
appears to have the capability to persist, at least as a minor
component for a decade and a half, but it is probable that associated
species such as green and black ash (Fraxinus pennsylvanica var.
subintegerrima and F. nigra) will become more important.

INTRODUCTION

Dutch elm disease, a vascular wilt caused by the fungus
Ceratocystis ulmi , is thought to have entered the United States with
infected elm timber designated for veneer; the disease was first
identified in this country in Ohio in 1930 (Elton, 1958). The fungus is
spread by several insect vectors and by root grafts; the most
common vector in southern Wisconsin is the European bark beetle
(Scolytis multistriatus ), whereas the native bark beetle
(Hylurgopinus rufipes ) predominates in the northern half of the
state (Worf, et al, 1972). The blight reached southeastern W isconsin
in 1956, and spread northward over most of the state by 1973

195

196

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

(Reynolds, Wisconsin Department of Agriculture, Plant Industry
Division, personal communication).

Various studies have described forest devastation by the chestnut
blight (Keever, 1953; Woods, 1953; Nelson, 1955; Woods and
Shanks, 1957; and Mackey and Sivec, 1973); however, the effects of
Dutch elm disease are less well documented. This study records the
reduction of elm by the disease, documents the present composition
of these forests and predicts future trends.

STUDY AREAS

Three communities with dead elms ( Ulmus americana) were
examined: stand 1 is in the Sheboygan County Arboretum, covering
about 15 ha, SE 1/4 of the SE 1/4 of Section 19, T14N, R23E, stand 2
occupies about 5 ha in the S 1/2 of the SE 1/4 of Section 10, T16N,
R21E; and stand 3, also approximately 5 ha, lies in N 1/2 of the NE
1/4 of Section 10, T13N, R21E; all are in Sheboygan County.

The soils in stands 1 and 2 are slightly acidic, deep muck in the
Houghton series, and have a seasonal high water table. Stand 3 soils
are Palms muck (slightly acid soil) and circumneutral Pella silty
clay. These areas are examples of southern wet-mesic forest
described by Curtis (1959).

METHODS

All woody stems over 2.54 cm dbh were sampled in 10x10 m
quadrats; dead elms were included in this tally. These quadrats
were established in a stratified random pattern (Oosting, 1956). A
1x4 m quadrat to sample woody stems less than 2.54 cm dbh was
placed in a predetermined corner of each quadrat. Forty-five
quadrats were sampled in stand 1 and forty quadrats each in stands
2 and 3.

Importance values (the sum of relative density, relative frequen¬
cy, and relative dominance) were calculated for canopy trees (trees
more than 10.2 cm dbh) and for the woody understory (2.5 to 10.2 cm
dbh). Importance values were also calculated without inclusion of
dead elms. The density of more important species was also
tabulated by size class. Frequency and density was reported for
seedlings and shrubs less than 2.5 cm dbh. Nomenclature follows
Fernald (1950).

1978]

Grittinger — Loss of Elm in Eastern Wisconsin

197

RESULTS

Elm importance in the overstory has been greatly reduced (Table
1). Elm density/ha and basal area (BA)/ha decreased in each stand,
although the decline was much greater in stands 2 and 3 than in
stand 1. Stand 1 is now dominated by yellow birch ( Betula lutea),
black ash ( Fraxinus nigra), green ash ( Fraxinus pennsylvanica
var, subintegerrima ), and red maple ( Acer rubrum). Stand 2 is
dominated by black ash, yellow birch, basswood (Tilia americana),
and elm. Stand 3 is dominated by black ash, green ash, elm, and a
red-silver maple hybrid ( Acer rubrum x A. saccharinum).

Sapling data were divided into those for potential overstory
species and for secondary trees and shrubs (Table 2). Dead elm had
little or no effect on sapling importance values. The understory
includes most of the canopy species. Secondary trees and shrubs are
also important components in the understory, especially in stands 2
and 3; the secondary tree and shrub importance value is 50.8 in
stand 1, 125.7 in stand 2, and 113.9 in stand 3.

Density was tabulated by size class to include dead elms (Table 3).
It is evident that elm was formerly well represented in the larger
size classes in all three stands. The smaller size classes contain large
numbers of black ash in all stands, green ash in stands 1 and 3,
yellow birch and red maple in stand 1 and box elder (Acer Negundo)
in stand 2.

Density of woody species less than 2.5 cm dbh shows considerable
variation (Table 4). In stand 1, with 25,889 tree seedlings/ha, the
red-silver maple hybrid complex had the largest number followed
by black ash, green ash, yellow birch, and finally elm. Stand 2, with
6188 tree seedlings/ha, contains black ash, box elder, elm, yellow
birch and red maple, basswood, and sugar maple ( Acer saccharum).
Stand 3 contains even fewer seedlings, 3688/ha; including elm,
green ash, and the red-silver maple complex. Conversely, the
secondary trees and shrubs reach their highest value in stand 3,
closely followed by stand 2, with fewest in stand 1.

DISCUSSION

Elm was formerly more important in these communities as
indicated by incorporation of dead elms into the importance values
for the reconstructed canopy (Table 1) and the reconstructed

Table 1. Species importance values with and without dead elm.1

198

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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1978]

Grittinger — Loss of Elm in Eastern Wisconsin 199

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Size class in cm dbh

2.5- 10.2- 17.8- 25.4- 33.0- 40.7- 48.3- 55.9- 63.6 Total

Species 10.2 17.8 25.4 33.0 40.7 48.3 55.9 63.6

1978]

Grittinger — Loss of Elm in Eastern Wisconsin

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Fraxinus nigra 77.5 32.5 2.5 112.5

Acer rubrum x saccharinum 27.5 7.5 2.5 5.0 2.5 2.5 2.5 50.0

Ulmus americana 10.0 15.0 15.0 2.5 42.5

Acer Negundo 12.5 12.5

Mead trees only

202

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Table 4. Woody species less than 2.5 cm DBH

Frequency

Density/ha

Potential

stand

stand

overstory trees

1

2

3

1

2

3

Acer rubrurn or A.
rubrum x saccharinum

66.7

2.5

5.0

17722

188

625

Fraxinus nigra

Fraxinus pennsylvanica

46.7

47.5

2944

3688

var. subintegerrima

37.8

15.0

2778

1438

Betula lutea

24.4

2.5

2167

188

Ulmus americana

11.1

15.0

17.5

278

625

1625

Tilia americana

2.5

125

Acer Negundo

20.0

1313

Acer saccharum

2.5

63

Total

25889

6188

3688

Secondary trees
and shrubs

Ribes spp.

53.3

42.5

75.0

5278

8063

20000

Rex verticillata

37.8

2.5

6000

500

Cornus stolonifera

11.1

5.0

17.5

2944

2438

3438

Prunus virginiana

8.9

30.0

22.5

389

5625

1188

Acer spicatum

6.7

2.5

1389

63

Rubus spp.

4.4

35.0

17.5

1222

13750

6563

Alnus rugosa

4.4

944

Spiraea alba

2.2

111

Amelanchier sp.

2.2

56

Cornus alternifolia

50.0

5750

Sambucus canadensis

10.0

2.5

1000

500

Cornus racemosa

10.0

1250

Viburnum trilobum

5.0

2.5

688

2875

Viburnum Lentago

5.0

12.5

563

3000

Carpinus caroliniana

2.5

563

Rhus radicans

2.5

Cornus obliqua

17.5

5500

Vitis riparia

5.0

188

Total

18333

40250

43250

understory (Table 2) and by the prominence of dead elms in larger
size classes (Table 3). Dutch elm disease entered Sheboygan County,
Wisconsin in 1960 (Plant Industry Division, Wisconsin Department
of Agriculture), and thus stand reconstruction is still possible; it
will become progressively more difficult as standing dead elms fall.
Reconstruction of these stands implies some reservations. Inclusion
of dead elms gives an overestimation of the BA/ha and the
density/ha, since the surviving trees have grown since the death of

1978]

Grittinger — Loss of Elm in Eastern Wisconsin

203

the elms. The BA of the dead elms is under estimated since many of
these stems are devoid of bark at breast height; fortunately all dead
trees encountered had enough bark to distinguish American elm
from slippery elm.

Wetter lacustrine swamps in Wisconsin usually contain com¬
binations of silver maple, green or black ash, and American elm.
Based on importance values these species vary greatly in relative
importance from stand to stand (Ware, 1955). The stands in this
study show a considerable range in original importance of elm
(Standi 20%,Stand2 50%andstand3 72%) (Table 1). Thus the loss
of mature elms produces a greater degree of disturbance and
change in composition in stands 2 and 3 than in stand 1. Stands 1, 2
and 3 have dead canopy or overstory elm ( <10.2 cm dbh) densities
of 73.2, 117.5, and 247.5/ha respectively. Stands 2 and 3 are now
relatively open communities, with vigorous shrub-layer develop¬
ment. Secondary trees and shrubs have an importance value of only
50.8, in stand 1, but show values of 125.7 and 113.9 respectively in
stands 2 and 3 (Table 2). The results of overstory losses are also seen
in the seedling data (Table 4).

The well documented case of the American chestnut blight
provides a model by which to estimate possible effects of the Dutch
elm disease. Braun (1950) noted that, in forests damaged by the
chestnut blight, the reduced canopy temporarily favored the least
tolerant of the undergrowth trees. With the reduction of the elm,
box elder, a species considered long-lived sub-climax by Ware
(1955) and climax on bottomlands by Guilkey (1957), appears to be
invading openings in stand 2, and to a lesser extent in stand 3. In
Wisconsin lowlands, box elder develops near the edges of the stand
(Vogl, 1969); it was assigned a low adaptation number by Curtis
(1959). Spurr (1964) reported that the American chestnut was being
replaced by its former associates. Replacement of the American elm
by its former associates seems evident in this study, though the long
term result is difficult to predict the elm disease entered the area
only about 15 years prior to this study and a new equilibrium has not
been established. Black and green ash seem successful in this
replacement as indicated by high densities in the smaller size
classes in all three stands. Yellow birch and red maple also seem to
be benefiting from elm reduction in stand 1. However, high values
of ash, birch and maple may have always been the norm in the
understory.

Keever (1953) suggested that presence of a species in all size
classes (seedlings, transgressives one to ten feet tall, understory,

204

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

and overstory) indicates that the species will continue to hold its
place in the community. The present important species (Table 3)
will probably be represented in the future communities. Barnes
(1976) concluded that American elm will be perpetuated by seeds
produced by young trees, although the life span of the species will be
reduced. His hypothesis calls for progressively longer lived elms as
the inoculum and the beetles decrease following the loss of the
mature elm and as selection for greater genetic resistance to the
disease occurs in the future. Barnes found that elm makes up from
10 to 15% of the understory and seedling layers in southern
Michigan and predicted that elm will maintain itself. In this study,
elm now accounts for 1% of the seedlings in stand 1, a stand with a
very high seedling density, and 10% and 44% in stand 2 and stand 3
respectively, both stands with low seedling densities (Table 4). It
seems likely that American elm will continue to be a minor
component of the lowland forest, while its former associates and
other less tolerant species assume more importance.

LITERATURE CITED

Barnes, B. V. 1976. Succession in deciduous swamp communities of southeastern
Michigan formerly dominated by American elm. Canad. J. Bot. 54: 19-24.

Braun, E. L. 1964. Deciduous Forests of Eastern North America. Hafner Publ. Co.
New York. 596 p.

Curtis, J. T. 1959. The Vegetation of Wisconsin. University of Wisconsin Press.
Madison, Wisconsin. 657 p.

Elton, C. S. 1958. The Ecology of Invasions by Animals and Plants. Methuen and Co.,
Ltd. London. 181 p.

Fernald, M. L. 1950. Gray's Manual of Botany, 8th ed., American Book Co. New
York~1632 p.

Guilkey, P. C. 1957. Silvical characteristics of American elm. Lake States Forest
Expt. Sta. USD A. Sta. Paper 54. St. Paul. 19 p.

Keever, C. 1953. Present composition of some stands of the former oak-chestnut
forests in the southern Blue Ridge Mountains. Ecology 34: 44-54.

Mackey, H. E. Jr. and N. Sivec. 1973. The present composition of a former oak-
chestnut forest in the Allegheny Mountains of western Pennsylvania. Ecology
54: 915-919.

Nelson, T. C. 1955. Chestnut replacement in the southern highlands. Ecology 36: 352-
353.

1978]

Grittinger — Loss of Elm in Eastern Wisconsin

205

Oosting, H. J. 1956. The Study of Plant Communities, 2nd ed. W. H. Freeman and Co.
San Francisco. 440 p.

Spurr, S. M. 1964. Forest Ecology. Ronald Press Co. New York. 352 p.

Vogl, R. J. 1969. One hundred and thirty years of plant succession in a southeastern
Wisconsin lowland. Ecology 50: 248-255.

Ware, G. M. 1955. A phytosociological study of lowland hardwood forests in southern
Wisconsin. Ph.D. thesis, University of Wisconsin. Madison.

Woods, F. W. 1953. Disease as a factor in the evolution of forest composition. J.
Forestry 51: 871-873.

Woods, F. W. and R. E. Shanks. 1957. Replacement of chestnut in the Great Smoky
Mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina. J. Forestry 55:847.

Worf, G. L., C. F. Koval, and E. B. Smalley. 1972. Dutch elm disease in Wisconsin.
Coop. Ext. Program of Univ. Ext. University of Wisconsin, Madison. 8 p.

TORCHLIGHT SOLDIERS: A WISCONSIN VIEW OF THE
TORCHLIGHT PARADES OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY
TANNERS’ AND THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY
WHITE BOYS IN BLUE’

Charles D. Goff

University of Wisconsin — Oshkosh

n the fall of 1868 the evenings were enlivened
by the exciting music of military bands, the
shouted commands of torchlight officers to

marching units, and the sounds of the boots and shouts of hundreds
of torch-carrying soldiers. Pseudo-military companies were
organized that fall throughout Wisconsin to support the political
candidates of the Republican and Democratic parties.

Both Republicans and Democrats organized Civil War veterans
into companies, battalions and regiments. Milwaukee Republican
‘Tanners’ formed a torchlight soldier brigade; Oshkosh organized
seven torchlight companies and a cavalry troop into a Tanner
regiment; F ond du Lac, Janesville and La Crosse organized Tanner
battalions; Tanner companies were organized in nearly every
Wisconsin community.

In cities such as Ripon, Fort Atkinson-Jefferson and La Crosse
these companies had 200 members each while smaller communities
including Monroe, Brodhead, and Green Bay, could field 125-150
torches plus a military band. Mazomanie had a “large” Tanner
company numbering at least 150 members. The village of Hudson,
probably the most Republican-minded small village in Wisconsin in
1868, boasted a company of 200 mounted Tanners whose parades
were “brilliant with banners, and exciting with the music of their
band and glee club”.

Wisconsin Democrats also organized units of torchlight soldiers
from veterans of the Civil War. In Oshkosh the Democrats formed a
regiment of eight companies of White Boys in Blue. Every company
was officered by Civil War veterans, and every company contained
a large portion of veteran soldiers. As a reporter for the Oshkosh
City Times described it, “When Col. Bouck’s order came to ‘right
face . . . forward march,’ 550 torches and two military bands
stepped off in parade”.

206

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Both groups hoped to increase voter turnout on election day, by
marching in torchlight parades dressed in uniforms reminiscent of
the Union armies. The Tanners sought to be the enthusiastic force,
the active and aggressive wing, of the Grand Army of the Republic
and of the Republican party. The White Boys in Blue had a similar
purpose, although the Democratic torchlighters had to first
emphasize their loyalty to the nation and its flag before indicating
their political differences with Republican reconstruction policies.

Although the era of torchlight parading in American political
campaigns began in the 1830’s and lasted through the end of the
century, torchlight parades were first used systematically as a
political party campaign technique in 1860 when the Republicans
organized the Wide Awakes. The Wide Awakes were a youth group
who wore distinctive oilcloth capes and caps and carried torches and
banners to generate enthusiasm for Abraham Lincoln. Richard
Current, author of Volume II of the History of Wisconsin, (State
Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1976) tells us that “at a torchlight
procession in Milwaukee honoring Carl Schurz,” in late October,
1860, “some 3,000 Wide Awakes paraded, fired off rockets and
shouted hurrahs as they marched by the Newhall House”.1

Similarly, at Oshkosh on October 30, 1860, there were 1,000
torches in a Wide Awake procession. “Fond du Lac, Rosendale,
Appleton, Waupun, Ripon, Berlin, Neenah, Menasha and Vinland
each sent its noble band of Wide Awakes who, together with their
Oshkosh brethren, all bearing torches and accompanied by ten
bands of music, made the grandest display of the kind ever seen in
Northern Wisconsin (prior to the Civil War).”2

The peak of Wisconsin participation in parading with torchlights
seems to have occurred in the fall in 1868, when U. S. Grant was
elected to his first term as President. The last big year for torchlight
parading may have been in 1884, when Grover Cleveland was first
elected President. The last big torchlight parade in Wisconsin
appears to have occurred on the evening of September 24, 1896,
when fully 2,000 men carried torches through downtown La Crosse.

A typical duty of the torchlight soldiers in every city was to march
to the local railroad station to meet visiting political celebrities and
escort them to their hotel. A delegation of the most prestigious local
dignitaries would join in meeting the celebrity and the combined
procession then marched through the city streets to the hotel. The
celebrity customarily made a brief speech, thanking and com¬
plimenting his escort, then retired to change his clothes, have

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

dinner, and confer with local party personalities before the evening
political meeting.

Later when the speaker was ready to proceed to the meeting
place, the torchlight soldiers paraded through such major streets of
the city as the political meeting managers had time for. Military
bands, fireworks, bonfires, and booming cannon added heightened
excitement to the occasion. Once arrived at the county courthouse
square or meeting hall where the speakers were to give their
orations, the appearance of the torchlight soldiers in their colorful
uniforms, their cheering, their singing and their patriotically
impressive presence added to the political excitement of the
evening.

Probably the highest ceremonial honor torchlight soldiers could
confer on a visiting celebrity was to form two lines and permit him
to “pass through.” Six Tanner companies in Oshkosh honored
Wisconsin Governor Lucius Fairchild in this manner in the week of
September 24, 1868, when they formed two lines of Tanners along
Main Street, and with their torches held in the position of rifle
salute, invited Governor Fairchild, accompanied by Sen. Rich, Hon.
George Gary and James V. Jones to “pass through,” to the
accompaniment of their loud cheers.3

A pleasant duty for many torchlight soldiers was to receive a unit
flag which sometimes was presented to the unit by the Republican
or Democratic women’s organization. This gift had been a
customary one for Civil War volunteer companies, the presentation
ceremony taking place only a few days before the company was to
leave the camp or the state for service in Civil War battle zones. The
custom was remembered in 1868 to the benefit of the torchlight
soldiers of both parties; thus it was that the Oshkosh Tanners
received “an elegant silk regimental flag” from the Republican
ladies on October 7th, and the Oshkosh White Boys in Blue received
a regimental flag from the Democratic ladies of Oshkosh at a flag
presentation ceremony at McCourt’s Hall on October 21, 1868.

Local political personalities were sometimes serenaded. The
Oshkosh Tanner companies A, B and C, on the evening of
September 9, 1868, marched to the home of Congressman Philetus
Sawyer on Algoma Street. Congressman Sawyer’s thanks and
remarks were received, according to the newspaper account, with
loud cheers. Four other local dignitaries then made short speeches,
following which the Congressman provided refreshments for all the
Tanners in the form of peaches, cigars and appropriate beverages

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for the thirsty. Before bidding their host good night, the battalion
gave three cheers for Sawyer, three more cheers for Grant and
Colfax, then returned to their armory.4

The most interesting duty of the torchlight soldiers probably was
to travel to neighboring communities to participate in their
torchlight parades. Out-of-town trips by the torchlight soldier
companies had the political value of doubling or tripling the total
torchlight soldier participation in a given parade and, therefore
maximized the political impact. For example, the Oshkosh Tanners
were reinforced at their parade on October 22, 1868 by contingents
of visiting Tanners from Neenah-Menasha, Appleton, New London,
Berlin, Omro and Fond du Lac, most who arrived and later
departed by steamboats. On the preceding evening, Fond du Lac
Tanners had been the hosts to 250 Tanners and a brass band from
Oshkosh, 100 Tanners from Waupun and an additional 200 men
from Ripon. Similar “home and home” arrangements for reciprocal
pooling of torchlight paraders to accumulate largest possible
concentration occurred in Madison, Milwaukee, Janesville and
Jefferson.

The Republican torchlight soldiers in Wisconsin and Illinois were
called “Tanners”, because General U. S. Grant had worked for a
time as a tanner while a young man and had learned his business so
well, Republicans said, that he had been able to “tan” the
seccessionist rebels who in the Civil War had taken up arms to
destroy the nation. Another reason for adopting the name Tanners
was that Democrats in the summer of 1868 were sneering at the
very thought of a tanner being President. Democrats had sneered
similiarly at Abraham Lincoln’s having once been a rail splitter.
Since the smear hadn’t seemed to hurt Lincoln’s voter appeal.
Republicans hoped that popularization of the word tanner would
turn the Democratic calumny into a Republican asset.5

According to the Chicago Tribune, the first Tanner club of
torchlight soldiers was organized in Chicago on July 24, 1868. The
name Tanner’ took like wildfire; 1,000 Tanner clubs sprang up
within two weeks, and within two months there were fully 10,000
Tanner companies.6

The title of the Democratic party’s “White Boys in Blue,” first
adopted in state conventions in April of 1868, sought to emphasize
that northern Democrats had been loyal soldiers in the Union’s
armies and implied that the Republicans had no monopoly on either
patriotism or loyalty. The term White Boys referred to strong

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Democratic opposition at the time to voting by blacks, loud
opposition to the Freedmen’s Bureau which had been organizing
black schools in the South, and bitter opposition to Republican
reconstruction policies.7

Wisconsin’s population had reached only 1,055,000 in 1870 and its
cities were small, thus the number of participants in the political
rallies of 1868, in proportion to the total population, seems truly
remarkable. Milwaukee was a city of only 71,000 people in 1870, yet
it had a political parade on the night before the November 3 election
in 1868 of 3,000 torch-carrying Tanners and a Tanner cavalry unit,
which “drew the largest crowd of the campaign.” Oshkosh, with
12,600 inhabitants in 1870, saw a Tanner parade on October 22,
1868 that featured 2,000 torches and a dozen bands.

The city of Fond du Lac was the second largest city in Wisconsin
in 1870 with a population of 12,700. On October 21, 1868, Fond du
Lac Republicans staged a parade said to have been two miles long
and featuring 1,500 torch-carrying Tanners from Fond du Lac,
Oshkosh, and neighboring communities. The parade also included a
rifled cannon which had been captured by the 14th Wisconsin
Regiment at Pittsburg Landing (Shiloh). Neenah-Menasha had a
combined population in 1870 of only 5,138, yet on October 15, 1868,
they had 1,000 torchlight-carrying veterans marching in their big
campaign parade. Janesville, Racine, Kenosha and Madison that
fall had torchlight parades which are said to have included from 500
to 600 torchlight soldiers in each city.

The uniforms of torchlight soldiers were colorful, designed to be
both patriotic and as visible as possible in night-time parades. The
oilcloth capes protected a wearer’s clothing from kerosene
drippings as well as rain. The Democratic party’s White Boys in
Blue seem to have had the most colorful uniforms, consisting of blue
shirts, blouses or jackets trimmed with white, including a white
rosette on the left chest and fastened with U. S. Army military
buttons. Each man had a red belt and a red cap or an army forage
cap with a white crown piece. He also carried a torch to the staff of
which was attached a small American flag. The names of the
Democratic Presidential candidates, i. e., Seymour and Blair, were
usually stitched on the flag.

The regimental officers of the White Boys in Blue were usually
mounted on horses, and they wore the same U. S. Army uniforms
they had worn on active duty in the Civil War. The captains and
lieutenants marched with their companies and wore Army
regulation military dress.

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The uniform of the Republican Tanners was a little less colorful,
but it was unmistakable and distinctive. The Tanners wore blue
oilcloth caps of a military pattern, with a white top and a red, white
and blue band. They usually used white or red oilcloth capes,
although both the capes and caps were permitted to be of any color
the company chose and be trimmed to suit their local taste. Tanners
uniformly wore leather aprons, which was their most clearly
identifying. characteristic. Tanner officers wore the U. S. Army
military insignia and their N.C.O.’s wore stripes.

Within this degree of uniformity, some Tanner companies which
had been recruited on the basis of ethnic groups, often adopted
additional distinctive items of dress to distinguish them from other
companies within their own battalion or regiment. For example,
Oshkosh Tanner Company G was a group of sixty Scandinavians
who, in addition to their Tanner uniform, wore red, white and blue
scarves, red sashes and leather belts. In the 1870’s and 1880’s
manufacturers developed increasingly gaudy torchlight uniforms
which included plumed caps or helmets, boots, epaulets, and swivel
torches having a rifle-like stock which permitted torchlight
paraders to perform a full rifle manual of arms (Fig. I).8

Patent model of i860
campaign torch. (Smithsonian photo
5°555-)

Campaign
1868. (Smithsonian photo
49457-C.)

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The organization of the torchlight clubs began with the political
parties. Then, as now, the Democrats and Republicans had county,
city and ward units, but in 1868 it was apparently customary to
rename local party units with the last names of the party’s
presidential candidates. The Oshkosh Republicans thus renamed
themselves the Oshkosh Grant and Colfax Club, and the Oshkosh
Democrats became the Seymour and Blair Club.

In addition to changing their names to those of the party’s
national standard bearers, the campaign clubs reorganized
themselves on a civil and military basis. The Civil Departments of
both the Grant-Colfax and Seymour-Blair Clubs were concerned
with the standard and multiple political tasks of fund raising,
organizing rallies, scheduling speakers and renting meeting halls,
enlisting party workers, creating, producing and scheduling
advertising, etc. The Military Department was related exclusively
to the enlisting, drilling, uniforming, equipping, scheduling,
transporting and often planning for the feeding of the torchlight
soldiers and their torchlight marcher guests from out-of-town.

The Berlin Courant, August 13, 1868, notes the civil-military
separation of political and torchlight club functions:

The Berlin Tanners Club was organized into a Civil
Department, the officers being the club president, vice
president, recording secretary, corresponding secretary,
treasurer, janitor and an executive committee of three. The
club’s Military Department consists of a captain, first
lieutenant, second lieutenant and a sergeant for every ten
men.

This organizational dualism wasn’t universally practiced,
however, as the Beaver Dam Republicans merged their Grant Club
into a Tanners Club.

Since 1868 was only three years after the end of the Civil War,
both the Republican Tanners and Democratic White Boys in Blue
had large numbers of veterans in their local communities from
whom to recruit their torchlight soldiers. These men still had, or
could obtain, army uniforms. They also remembered close order
drill, knew how to both give and execute drill commands and did not
have to be told how army units were organized and administered.

A brief announcement in the Fond du Lac Commonwealth of
October 14, 1868, illustrates the transition from ward and ethnic
clubs of the political parties to the standardized military organiza¬
tion of army companies used by the torchlight soldiers:

Hereafter the Fond du Lac “Uptown” club will be known as
Company A, the Fifth Ward club as Company B, the Fourth

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213

Ward club as Company C, and the colored club as Company
D. the clubs having been lettered according to the dates of
their organization. (A fifth company, i.e., Company E was
organized ten days later.)

The kind of standardization to military letters illustrated above
in Fond du Lac changed the titles of numerous ward clubs and also
of a variety of ethnic torchlight clubs. The Scandinavian Tanners of
Oshkosh became Oshkosh Tanners Company G. Similarly, the
Welsh Tanners of Milwaukee, the Irish Republican Club, the
Milwaukee and Oshkosh Tanner cavalry units, the German Grant
and Colfax Club of Madison and colored Tanner companies formed
at both Janesville and Fond du Lac, became designated by company
letters in their city torchlight organizations. Oshkosh didn’t have a
colored company but did have some fifteen blacks interspersed
among its white Tanner companies, leading the Oshkosh City Times
of September 15, 1868 to charge the Tanners with being “Black and
Tanners.”

The torchlight soldier marching corps, dressed in their political
party uniforms and swinging their torches as they marched or
cheered or sang Civil War patriotic songs were a colorful element
but were not the entire parade. How can one have an exciting
parade without a band to play spirited, patriotic music? There
weren’t any university or high school bands at the time and the
musical capabilities of today’s drum and bugle corps hadn’t been
developed, but city brass bands, cornet bands, military bands and
fife and drum corps existed even in small communities.

At the Republican parade in Oshkosh on October 22, 1868, two
Tanner companies from Berlin had come down the Fox River by
steamboat to join the Oshkosh parade and brought the Berlin City
Brass Band with them. Neenah and Menasha Tanner companies in
the same Oshkosh parade were accompanied by what was described
as “two excellent bands of martial music.” F ond du Lac T anners 350
strong are reported to have brought a “splendid brass band and a
drum corps” to the same parade. A Democratic rally in La Crosse a
month previously had been enlivened by the playing and marching
of “a fine brass band and the drum corps of the Seymour
Invincibles.”

Both military and brass bands a century ago were far smaller
than the university or high school bands of today which march on
football fields or in holiday parades; a typical band numbered only
sixteen musicians. The Democrats of Oshkosh, however, organized
a martial band in the fall of 1868, to provide music for the parades of

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the Democratic White Boys in Blue; it was led by five drum majors,
all having served as regimental band drum majors in Civil War
regiments.9

The music played by marching bands of 1868 would be largely
unfamiliar to the ears of most of us. John Phillip Sousa, had not been
born and obviously had not yet composed the magnificent military
march, “Stars and Stripes Forever.” Most of the band music played
in 1868 had a patriotic sound associated with the Civil War. For
example, the Oshkosh Regiment of White Boys in Blue paraded on
the evening of September 24, 1868 to the “Music of the Union.”
Similarly, the Neenah-Menasha newspaper Island City Times
reported that the “stirring notes of ‘The Slogan’ was heard far in
advance of the Tanners marching column.” Favorites for marchers
and singers alike were “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp the Boys are
Marching”, and “Rally Round the Flag.”

Group singing was a common feature of these political
gatherings. The Hudson, Wisconsin, Star and Times tells us that on
the evening of October 15th, 1868, their most prominent local
citizen, General Harriman, led a Hudson audience in singing
“Tramp, Tramp, Tramp the Boys are Marching.” In Milwaukee
that fall, a Republican glee club sang an allegedly lively song, “Let
Every Republican Rally Around.” Madison meetings that fall
opened their political meetings or closed them by singing “the good
old song, ‘Rally Round the Flag’.” At the biggest rally of the
campaign in Madison, the audience on October 14th, joined a
Republican party glee club in the choruses of “The Union Forever,”
“Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,” “Glory Halleluja,” and “On, On, the Boys
Came Marching.”

A torchlight battalion or regiment usually had a company which
was also a glee club. Company C of the Oshkosh Tanners, in addition
to marching, served as the regiment’s glee club; both the Madison
and Mazomanie Tanners had glee clubs. Oshkosh Tanners
Company C sang at six party meetings as well as carried torches in a
dozen torchlight parades. Company C seems to have also been a kind
of special services company, since we read that “the magnificent
stand of colors presented to the Oshkosh Tanners by the Republican
ladies of Oshkosh was carried thereafter by the Company C color
guard.”

Torchlight parades featured the torchlight soldiers, but the
major parades included a variety of wagons, which we call floats. A
huge wagon in the Hudson parade of October 20th was pulled by

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215

fourteen horses and consisted of a large flatbed platform on which
were seated a dozen old men including “the venerable David Stiles.”
The title banner of this wagon-float read “Old Guard.” A banner
hung from one side of the wagon rack read “David Stiles, aged 102;
the century plant blooms for Grant.” A banner on the opposite side
of the wagon rack read, “For Washington in 1789, for Grant in
1868.” A wagon in a Fond du Lac parade the same week was pulled
by six horses, carried a load of lumber and shingles and had two
banners which read, “Fond du Lac lumbermen vote for Grant and
Colfax,” and “We are building Salt River rafts for Seymour and
Blair.” In the same parade, another wagon entry simply consisted of
a mammoth saw log pulled by a team of six oxen.

A wagon at an Eau Claire parade September 26th was pulled by a
six mule team driven with one rein by a man who sat astride the
nigh wheel mule, regular army fashion, the wagon containing
fifteen voters holding a huge American flag. In the same parade the
Chippewa Falls delegation had a large wagon pulled by four
spirited horses and gaily trimmed with flags. Seated on a terraced
platform were thirty-seven young ladies dressed in white represent¬
ing each of the states of the Union, with each lady holding an
American flag across which had been sewn in white the name of the
state she represented. A variation on this thirty-seven state theme in
an Eau Claire parade on October 22nd, was a band-wagon pulled by
six horses and containing the “Goddess of Liberty,” encircled by
ladies “richly dressed in white with turbans representing all the
states of the Union and holding small American flags. This wagon
was trimmed in red, white and blue as well as with banners, mottoes
and ensigns.”

Craft theme floats were a major feature of the final Tanner
parade of the campaign in Milwaukee on November second. A large
wagon entered by the Union Iron Works carried boilmakers busily
at work ostensibly assembling a steam boiler. A wagon of Hays and
Veitch boxmakers plied their vocation with such will that they drew
cheers at every corner. The wagon of Edward Guenther’s hatters
carried transparencies advertising “The Grant, a Great F all Style.”
Cream City brickmakers were represented by two wagons carrying
brickmakers busily making bricks. The wagon of a Milwaukee
thresher manufacturer carried transparencies exhibiting mottoes
predicting a threshing for Democrats in the November third
election.

The carpenters’ wagon in the Milwaukee parade had carpenters

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , A rts and Letters [Vol. 66

busily building a “coffin” and a “tombstone” with transparencies
announcing “Democratic funeral on Tuesday — Seymourners.”
There was a “Union Tannery” wagon which represented a tannery
in full operation. This wagon was decorated with streamers and
carried transparencies proclaiming to the world, [Copperhead]
“Snake skins tanned November 3rd.” The dockers and caulkers
were represented by a long lumber wagon carrying a display
labeled “drydock” and “shipyard,” followed by another wagon
carrying a boat. The Milwaukee iron workers had a wagon
ostensibly carrying casks of scrap iron. The cask heads were
converted into illuminated transparencies with the motto “Iron
Brigade Votes for Grant.” The transparencies of the plasterers and
masons wagon promised, “We’ll plaster Seymour tomorrow.”

One of the most interesting units in torchlight processions was the
cavalcade of horsemen. In the Milwaukee Tanner parade of
November 2, 1868, a Milwaukee Sentinel reporter saw 500
horsemen carrying Chinese lanterns, American flags and banners
proclaiming political phrases. The Milwaukee cavalcade seems to
have been casually informal, but the Eau Claire Tanners organized
a troop of Tanner cavalry under the command of a Captain
Sherman which comprised a well-disciplined column half a mile
long. Captain Sherman’s group included eight lady equestriennes
each dressed in form-fitting blue bodices on which white stars had
been sewn. The skirts of their dresses were made of “intermingled
red and white.” They rode at the head of the cavalry escort and at the
next position to the rear of the cavalry. To add to the military flavor
of the unit, the Eau Claire Tanner cavalry carried nine foot guidons
at the perpendicular.

Tanner torchlighters in Milwaukee, Oshkosh and Madison had
cavalry units organized as troops within the Tanner marching
organization. Cavalry troops were used as honor guard escorts for
visiting celebrities. Cavalrymen tended to be an elite Tanner unit,
since they almost invariably were mounted on fine horses and
showed a drill proficiency which clearly marked them as veteran
Union Army cavalrymen.

After the bands, torchlight soldiers and floats had passed on the
parade route, parade marshals scheduled great numbers of private
carriages and farm wagons carrying partisan supporters, the
vehicles usually adorned with flags and mottoes. For example, the
village of Harmony in Grant County sent 75 wagons to a Republican
mass meeting in Janesville, one wagon was drawn by six grey
horses and carried banners on which were sewn the mottoes

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“Ullysses Forever, Horatio Never,” and “Cursed be he who the
Union would sever.” The Janesville Gazette reported that the town
of Milton sent a wagon procession to the same Janesville meeting
which was half a mile long. The Milton wagons carried transparen¬
cies showing mottoes, two declaring, “We won’t vote for the men we
shot at” and “Northern Copperheads and Southern Rebels; links of
one sausage from the same dog.”10

The Madison State Journal had similar reports of great numbers
of wagons attending or participating in torchlight parades. They
reported, for example, that at Jefferson on October 20th, “George
Blanchard of Lake Mills was out with a 16 horse team, Fort
Atkinson sent about 70 teams, Hebron had 25, Sullivan about as
many,” etc.

Newspaper descriptions of torchlight parades refer repeatedly to
transparencies. Essentially, the transparency consisted of a wooden
frame, the sides which were covered with cheesecloth canvas,
glassine paper, or vegetable parchment paper (Fig. 2). One or more

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

“Grand procession of wide-awakes at New York on the evening of October 3, i860,”
from Harper's Weekly, October 13, i860.

three-burner torches were fastened to the interior of the
transparency to provide enough light to make the painted images
visible to the curbside public. Political slogans were then painted on
the outside fabric of the transparency, or a local artist would paint a
picture of the candidate. If the artist was a competent caricaturist
he sometimes painted a cartoon or copied a printed caricature
available in such nationally circulated periodicals as Harpers
Weekly, Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, or the Illustrated
London News. Thus the brilliant political sketches of nationally
famous caricature artists such as Thomas Nast were sometimes the
source of transparency paintings in Wisconsin torchlight parades.

The Illustrated London News, October 15, 1864 shows several
transparencies which apparently were square boxes about three
feet on a side and mounted on a pole. Such a device was small enough
to be carried or held by a single man. The Smithsonian Institution

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219

has a triangular transparency from the campaign of 1860, each side
of which is 27J4” wide and 21 y2” high and has the painted title “Old
Abe” above a large cutout engraving of Abraham Lincoln. Harpers
Weekly on October 13, 1860, showed a wide awake procession in
which a huge portrait transparency of Lincoln was mounted on a
wagon drawn by four horses, the triangular transparency seeming
to have been ten or twelve feet high (Fig. 3). Some descriptive
examples of transparencies used in Wisconsin in 1868 follow.

At Hudson, Wisconsin, on October 15, 1868, a transparency had
been painted to represent a storm-ridden Confederate ship in
distress. Below the picture was the caption, “One sea-more
(Seymour, the Democratic Presidential candidate) and this old
Democratic hulk goes down forever.” In the same Hudson parade
another transparency was a painting of figures of nationally-
prominent Democrats (Seymour, Blair, Hampton, Beauregard and
Forrest) playing musical instruments in an orchestra. Belmont,
leader of the orchestra, pointed to Vice Presidential candidate Blair
with his baton and said, according to the caption, “too loud on the
second violin.” Below the cartoon was the slogan, “Trouble in the
Democratic orchestra.”

A Berlin parade on October 7th had a transparency which
pictured Gen. Grant tanning the hide of Horatio Seymour. A village
of Harmony transparency in the Janesville parade was a painted
scene titled “Ku Klux Logic.” Under this motto was a cartoon of two
dead men hanging by the neck to a limb of a tree which was
probably a plagiarism of one of Thomas Nast’s cartoons published
in Harper's Weekly during the 1868 campaign. Similarly, a
Madison parade transparency showed an immense copper colored
snake, a-la-Nast, coiled around a pole, the head of which was labeled
“Seymour.” Another with a similar theme showed Seymour
addressing a group of copperhead snakes as his “dear friends.”
Another showed a negro carrying a huge torch with the motto,
“Democrats enslaved me, Republicans freed me.” Still another
transparency showed the body of the Democratic party jackass with
Blair’s head. The caption read, “The Lord opened the mouth of the
ass and he spoke.”

Nearly any partisan who was handy with wood working tools was
able to build a transparency in a few hours, although many of the
transparencies were produced in commercial sign painters shops.

In daytime parades, where artificial light was unnecessary to
exhibit an image, huge portraits of the candidates were sometimes

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carried by the marchers. Thus it was that the Soldiers and Sailors
parade in Chicago at the time of the Republican National
Convention had two greater than life-size portraits of General
Grant and Schuyler Colfax (Speaker of the House of Represen¬
tatives) which were carried by men accompanying General
Salomon and his staff.

Humor, when it can be achieved, can vastly increase public
enjoyment of a public event, as the popularity of circus clowns,
rodeo clowns and television comedians certainly indicates.
Transparency paintings in 1868 must often have drawn chuckles
from the crowds, but the Wisconsin award for “Best Humor
Exhibited in a Torchlight Parade” ought to have been given to a
group of 25 Madisonians who, on October 30th, 1868, in the last
Madison parade of the campaign, played the dramatic roles of a
pseudo Ku Klux Klan. Twenty-five fellows mounted on horseback
costumed in rebel gray and masked, carried banners with a skull
and crossbones and other devices of the Ku Klux Klan. They
occasionally made a mock dash at the procession and “raided
through it,” drawing a crowd and attracting delighted attention
wherever they went. While the procession was zig-zagging down
Pinckney Street, they dashed ahead and a large crowd gathered
around them in front of the Methodist Church, where one of them,
impersonating Wade Hampton, pleaded for the restoration of the
“lost cause,” in familiar Ku Klux style, shutting up and fleeing,
however, when one of his band announced the approach of the
Republican Radicals.11

An auxiliary but vital supporting function for the torchlight
soldiers was local organization for feeding unusually large numbers
of people. The written accounts make it evident that no restaurant
or hotel was equipped to feed a thousand or more people at one
sitting, but the written records also barely hint at the tremendous
amount of planning needed for cooking and serving food to a vast
multitude. Thus a single sentence in a Fond du Lac story about a
Republican torchlight parade of 1,000 torches and a record-
breaking crowd at Amory Hall to hear the famous orator, Mathew
H. Carpenter, remarked at the end of the story, “After the meeting
was over the Tanners marched to Amory Hall where a fine supper
had been prepared for them by the Grant and Colfax ladies of Fond
du Lac.”

A Fond du Lac account of the final Democratic rally before the
election described a parade of 1,500 torchlight bearers and

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bandsmen and 200 teams, then concluded: “After the parade, all
who were Democratic and hungry were fed at Amory Hair’.12
Similarly, the J anesville Gazette described a parade of 1,000 Tanner
torchlighters and concluded with the sentence: “Republican women
served dinner to the marchers in the grove east of the speakers
stand.”13

The Oshkosh Journal had a far more detailed account of the
“Feeding of the Multitude at Neffs Hall,” written by H.A.T., one of
the ladies who participated.

Early in the morning some of our patriotic women gathered at
Neffs Hall (presently the Metal Fabricators Inc., i.e. the Frank
Leach building at Seventh and South Main in Oshkosh), and
commenced preparations for the dinner, assisted by a few
energetic men . . . who were willing to lend a hand where it was
most needed. The din ing room of the hall and the hall proper were
the work rooms for the day. Here were two long tables — one
devoted to meats, pies, pickles, etc., the other to cakes,
sandwiches, bread and other needfuls. Long before noon the
tables (were full) and additional supplies were stacked un¬
derneath in baskets and boxes.

When the (steamboat) Berlin City came in . . . the Tanners from
Berlin, Omro and Waukau were given lunch at the door. Baskets
of sandwiches, doughnuts, etc., were set out and promptly
emptied. By three o’clock five tables accommodating 450 persons
were heavily laden and still another was set up on the platform. A
part of the ladies were stationed at the tables as coffee servers; the
rest prepared for the second spread.

About half past four the companies from abroad (i.e., out-of-town)
came, a hungry throng happy enough to give three tremendous
cheers for Grant and Colfax, and three more for the ladies of
Oshkosh. Then the victuals and coffee — and the men —
disappeared. Then came the clearing up and resetting process.
Before seven the companies from Neenah and Appleton were fed.
Four new tables were then prepared for the Fond du Lac boys, a
reinforcement of pies having been added to the stores on hand.
After all the visiting Tanners had been fed, over 1,000, just think
of it, our Oshkosh Tanners came in and had an evening
lunch . . . H.A.T.14

Another auxiliary supporting element of the torchlight parades
was a great variety of fireworks and “illuminations.” The larger
parades included substantial quantities of sky rockets, Roman
candles, Chinese lanterns, bonfires, Bengal lights, locomotive
headlights and the illumination of the facades of buildings. The
Fond du Lac Commonwealth , for example, reported that “fireworks
were set off at different points on the line of march,” and said that
“the Tanners had also provided themselves with sky rockets and

222 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Roman candles which at the high point of the parade every man set
off at a given signal. Rockets and other fireworks were also
displayed at stations along the parade route.”15

An observer of a Milwaukee torchlight parade reported that
“rocket after rocket shot with crash and whiz through the air and
Roman candles by the thousands shot their beautiful and many
colored balls hither and thither.”

Bonfires were apparently used in the days before street lights had
much candle power, to mark the vicinity at which a public political
meeting was to be held. Since most streets were mud or gravel,
there apparently was not much fire hazard in building a bonfire in a
street intersection, in a street in front of a hotel or in a public square
in front of a county courthouse. Some bonfires seem to have been
used to mark a corner on a parade route. Others were chiefly festive.
Thus, prior to a Milwaukee Democratic mass meeting reported by
the Daily Milwaukee News on October 11, 1868, “an immense
bonfire was lighted at the intersection of Milwaukee and Michigan
streets and another (bonfire was lighted) at the crossing of Main and
Huron near the third ward club rooms.”

At a Democratic rally in La Crosse “a bonfire was lighted near the
crossing of Pearl and Second and directly in front of the St. Nicholas
Hotel . . . Speeches were delivered from the balcony of the St.
Nicholas Hotel.”16 In Milwaukee “a large bonfire was blazing at 8:00
in front of the Skating Rink [where a political meeting was to be
held] . . . and at frequent intervals the steamboat John F. Potter
sent forth its whistle” to add to the atmosphere of celebration.17

To show solidarity or accord with the political views of a given
group of paraders, fellow partisans along a known parade route
would place tallow dips, lamps or candles in the front windows of
houses, or would fasten Chinese lanterns to the limbs of trees in the
home’s front yard. We are told that “Many residences on High and
Algoma streets in Oshkosh were brilliantly illuminated in honor of
the occasion.” At Hudson, Wisconsin, “Mrs. Bowen had every front
room lighted of the Chapin House and the windows and balconies
were crowded with spectators to watch the parade.” At a Janesville
parade “many buildings were illuminated”, while in Milwaukee
“every window of Lake House was illuminated . . . (and) many
mansions were brillantly illuminated. The house of George W. Allen
was one blaze of light, while Chinese lanterns were pendent from
every bough in the yard. His pyrotechnic display was also
splendid.”18

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The same desire to indicate approval of the politics of the
torchlight paraders caused store owners to light up their show
windows. In one store “the windows were covered with stripes of
red, white and blue tissue paper behind which were placed lights,
thus producing a grand effect.” In another illumination of a
business house, “the newspaper office was suddenly lit up with the
shooting of hundreds of sky rockets, the bursting of Roman candles,
the glare of red, blue and other colored lights and the shimmer of
myriads of falling sparks.”

While electric lights had not been invented in 1868, railroad
engine headlights were sometimes borrowed to light up a parade
route. For example, a Democratic parade in Milwaukee on October
26, 1868 included “a large car on wheels bearing in a massive
revolving frame four locomotive headlights which flashed
their . . . brilliant light in every direction.”19

A second type of searchlight or signal light was called a Bengal
light, a dazzlingly bright light which could be adapted to show a
variety of colors. “Now all about would seem to be azure blue and
then red and then this or that color, and before the eye had adjusted
to one color another would take its place, dazzling the eye to a degree
of pain.”

The most spectacular illumination of the torchlight era, however,
were the massed torches. In Oshkosh, on the night of October 22nd,
the Tanner parade:

Numbered about 2,000 torches as it marched across the (Fox
River) bridge and up Main Street, presenting a spectacle at once
sublime and inspiring. Marching in files of four it took the
torchlight carrying soldiers twenty-five minutes to pass a given
point . . . Main Street of Oshkosh that night was a turbulent river
of pulsating fire from Seymour House (at Eighth and South Main)
on the south side of the river to the Empire House and Wagner’s
Fourth Ward saloon (N.E. corner of Merritt and Main) on the
other. The music of the numerous bands, the dense throng of
onlookers upon the sidewalks, the waving of handkerchiefs from
the windows, the commands of the officers, the numerous
transparencies and flags, all combined to make it a scene long to
be remembered.20

Defenders of democracy are fond of saying that it is far better for
a society to use ballots than bullets. Few would disagree, but
political violence has occurred with varying degrees of frequency
for a least seven millenia. The 1868 torchlight period included
several instances of violence. The Oshkosh Northwestern reported
that at a Democratic meeting late in the 1868 campaign:

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A disgraceful fight took place at Neffs Hall between three or four
Tanners and about a dozen White Boys in Blue. The hall was filled
with White Boys in Blue and the presence of the Tanners in
uniform appeared to raise their ire to an ungovernable pitch, and

frequent threats were made to “clean out them d - -d Tanners!”

Before Eldridge (Democratic candidate for Congress) com¬
menced his speech one of the Tanners made some offensive re¬
mark concerning the meeting, when a White Boy struck him in
the face. The melee then became general. Some six or eight White
Boys immediately attacked the Tanners with lamps and torches.
One was struck on the head with a torch, cutting a severe gash and
causing partial insensibility for some time. The row was ended by
the retreat of the Tanners from the scene.21

The Madison State Journal reported a torchlight parade at
which:

Young Ireland was out in force, cheering for Seymour and Blair
and crying “Nigger, Nigger, White Nigger,” etc., etc., at every
turn . . . The Democracy were not content with hurling abusive
epithets, but threw stones and eggs several times in different
parts of the city. The writer had his torch staff hit by a stone which
grazed a man in the rear and struck one before him. Two or three
eggs struck in his immediate vicinity, one of them plastering up a
gentleman’s coat sleeve and a transparency was riddled with
stones . . .22

A rotten egg throwing incident in Oshkosh in which the victims
were Democratic White Boys in Blue was described with editorial
disapproval by the Oshkosh Journal (a Republican paper) as
follows:

A shameful outrage was perpetrated on the German Company of
White Boys in Blue ... as they were marching up Main Street. A
party of rowdies threw a volley of rotten eggs at them with
considerable precision and then fled for fear of consequences.
Such weapons are not usually used by Republicans and we
sincerely hope they were not in this case. However much one may
differ from another politically, there is no excuse for such low¬
lived bastardly conduct . . .23

The Oshkosh City Times , a Democratic paper, reported the same
incident with almost unbelievable restraint. After reporting that
the White Boys in Blue had had rotten eggs thrown at them from the
corner of Main and Washington Streets the preceding Wednesday
evening, the editor confined himself to the comment, “Let
us . . . manifest our political preferences quietly . . .24

The closest facsimile to a political riot in Wisconsin in 1868 seems
to have occurred at the Republican meeting at Jefferson on October
21st which is reported to have drawn a crowd of 10,000 and to have

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included a parade two miles long which included “Tanners by the
hundreds.” According to a Madison State Journal reporter:

The Democrats congregated on the opposite side of the street in
and around a rum hole known as Spangler's Saloon. The
Republican speaker was frequently interrupted by the following
expressions: “You lie,” “Youre a damned liar,” etc., etc. During
Mr. Bean’s remarks he asked the Democrats if they would have
the debt we owe the widows and soldiers repudiated and a shout
went up from the Ku Klux Democrats in the affirmative ... A
shower of brickbats was thrown in the direction of the speaker’s
stand. A lady named Donallson was hit in the temple and severly
injured (the brickbat probably had been aimed at the speaker),
whereupon the Krogville Tanners, followed by the Lake Mills and
Waterloo boys, attacked the saloon containing the offenders. In
they went, smashing in doors and windows and rushing in by
scores. Many received bloody noses and black eyes. After a few
knockdowns and many words, with a general cleaning out of the
saloon, the boys in “capes” marched out amid the cheers of the
multitude. No more disturbance occurred and after Mr. Bean’s
address was concluded, the crowd dispersed.25

The torchlight parades of the 1860’s reveal a number of, now
extinct, nineteenth century political and social customs. One such
custom which was commonly observed by both political parties in
1868 was the ratification meeting. This was a local political meeting
held within a day or two of a national political convention
nomination. The purpose of the ratification meeting was to
publicize local agreement with, i.e., ratification of, the national
convention’s nominations. For example, the Oshkosh Northwestern
on May 21, 1868, published the news that the Republican nominees
for President and Vice President were Gen. Grant and Schuyler
Colfax, Speaker of the House and congressman from Indiana. Only
two days later the Oshkosh Republicans held a ratification meeting
at the corner of Church and Main Streets. The Oshkosh City Band
played, Mayor C. W. Davis presided and ratification speeches
approving the Grant and Colfax nominations were made by six local
party leaders.

The Oshkosh Democrats in 1868 prepared for their ratification
meeting by bringing out their cannon, gathering wood for bonfires,
and hiring the Oshkosh Cornet Band. When the news arrived that
the Democratic Party’s nominations in 1868 had gone after 21
ballots to Horatio Seymour, who as governor of New York had been
bitterly and vocally critical of Abraham Lincoln’s administration
and to General Frank Blair, a Missouri general who had a good
military record for the Union but a philosophical copperhead who

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felt that the nation should return to the status quo ante helium ,
Oshkosh Democrats gathered at Wagner’s Corners “to listen to
those who felt concurrence in the nominations. After speeches
themeetinggave three lusty cheers for Seymour and Blair . . . then
adjourned amid the sound of patriotic music, the booming of the
Democratic cannon, etc., etc.”26

A second custom commonly observed by political groups in the
1860’s was the practice of group cheering. N ewspapers in 1868 often
reported that an audience gave “three cheers for the ticket and three
for the speaker.” A variation on this theme was a meeting which
gave three times three for Mr. “X,” three times three for Mr. “Y,”
and three times three for Mr. “Z.” On really special occasions a
“tiger” was also called for at the end of the cheering. An amusing
variation on the tiger was the tactic of Republican Radicals calling
for loudly audible groans for President Andrew Johnson who had
been impeached but not convicted in the spring of 1868. A technique
still used today was to shout or chant political slogans in unison.

A third political custom which passed into oblivion in the early
twentieth century was the two hour speech. For reasons which
modern television viewers find it hard to understand, it seems to
have been customary for the main speaker of a political meeting to
orate for as much as two hours. In the 1868 campaign the reports of
political meetings state that “ex-Governor Salomon spoke for two
hours,” or that “Mr. Carpenter spoke for two hours and held the vast
and uncomfortable audience perfectly spellbound,” or that “Mr.
Carpenter spoke at the Eau Claire W igwam for two hours, then took
a carriage to Chippewa Falls where he spoke in the evening for
another hour and one half.”27

These speeches were delivered without the aid of electronic public
address systems, which means that the speaker had to shout and
scream for two hours so his voice would carry adequately.

The appetite for, or tolerance of, long political speeches by
nineteenth century audiences extended to the customary use of
many more speakers both at a specific meeting and in a whole
campaign. For example, at an Oshkosh meeting in 1868, “Judge
Levi Hubbel was the first speaker, followed by U. S. Senator Howe,
C. G. Williams, Judge Barlow and Col. Kershaw.” Many a meeting
seems to have been addressed by a full roster of a party’s prominent
personalities.

Possibly related to the use of what today seems an unusually large
number of speakers, was the need to train and schedule in-

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numerable meetings in small halls in both urban and rural country,
which seldom seated more than 200 plus standing room. Not only
were there few large auditoriums; the parties had to schedule
meetings in every rural county. Governor Lucius Fairchild, for
example, was scheduled to speak on October 29, 1868, in Pleasant
Prairie and in Bristol in Kenosha County. An incumbent governor
today, that late in the campaign, would never schedule meetings in
small communities.

The huge size of nineteenth century political crowds, in
proportion to the total population has not been duplicated in recent
generations. When one reads that 10,000 Republicans attended a
mass meeting in Janesville or 6,000 in Hudson, one must remember
that thousands of people had to come in from twenty-five miles
around because in each case the figures cited exceeded by a wide
margin the total population of each community.

The amazing length of the torchlight parades has not been seen
since torchlight parades passed into history. It would be extremely
hard for political parties today to merely match political parades
which were two, three and five miles in length. The Philadelphia
Republican parade of October 1-2, 1868, was said to have been eight
miles in length, a record likely to stand for all time.

The firing of cannon to celebrate truly unusual events was a fairly
common part of mid-nineteenth century celebrations. Such a
custom died out in twentieth century America except for the
artillery salute ceremonials involving foreign dignitaries visiting
the President of the United States. Then, as now, the greater the
victory or the more prestigious the personality being honored, the
greater were the number of guns fired. The cannons being fired in
nineteenth century celebrations were placed at some open space in
the general vicinity of the public gathering, i.e., a river bank, a lake
shore or large open square. When the cannon salute was fired the
gun crews would leave a two to three minute interval between the
gun reports, so the firing of a true “feu dejoie,” of 100 guns lasted for
two and one half to three hours.

Several words and phrases commonly used to describe aspects of
the nineteenth century torchlight parades are archaic today or have
disappeared from 20th century usage. A superlative cheer in 1868
was described as one which would “make the welkin ring,” but
today the phrase is no longer used. Another forgotten phrase was to
speak of the time between sundown and darkness as “early candle
lighting.” Torchlight soldiers were often told “there will be a

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meeting tomorrow night in the Court House square at early candle
light.” The term “band of music” was used to describe what today we
simply call a band. The word “jollification” is understandable to us
today but no one in the late twentieth century would describe a
victory parade as a “victory parade jollification.”

The election night party today hasn’t changed very much from
what it was a hundred years ago, except for the invention and use of
telephones, radio and television. Bourbon and beer still belong, cold
cuts and cheese are still popular.

But since the November 3, 1868 election was the objective toward
which the torchlight parading had been focused, an Oshkosh
Journal report of the Republican election night party in 1868
reveals some interesting differences between then and now:

In the evening at early candle lighting, they (Republicans) began
to assemble at McCourt’s Hall to hear the returns . . . First came
the returns from the various wards in the city, and as they were
announced, cheers were given with a will. Then the (telegraph)
wires began to bring the news from abroad; a bundle of
dispatches, on which there were charges of $45.00 were ready to
be opened and read as soon as the money to pay for them was
raised, which was soon done by passing the hat. Then a dispatch
would be read, after which a song by Stickney, the audience
joining in the chorus, was in order. Then another dispatch. Then a
speech by Drew. Then a dispatch, then “Hurrah for Grant and
Colfax” by “Old Kentuck”, a colored orator Andrew Jackson by
name, which put the audience into laughter. Then a speech and
“Hurrah for Sawyer (the candidate for Congress) by everybody,
and another dispatch. Then some laughable and apropos
anecdotes by the group’s principal anecdotist. Then a dispatch,
then . . . more singing. Report from Chicago and three cheers for
the same . . . When it became apparent that Congressman
Sawyer would be re-elected, the crowd demanded a speech and
Sawyer reluctantly came forward. He made a short and very neat
little speech thanking the assembled Republicans for their
support and promised that “when work was to be done, he would
always be found at his post”. The jubilee kept up until past
midnight . . .28

Political victory parades in America are rare because both
parties pace their campaigning to achieve an all-out and final
crescendo of effort in the weekend before the general election. The
Republican Tanner torchlight soldiers of Oshkosh, however, turned
out for their final parade on Thursday evening, November 5, 1868.
With band music and a general atmosphere of relaxed rejoicing
after the long campaign. The Tanner victory parade was also
notable for demonstrating the speed with which new transparen-

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cies could be made (three days) and store windows redecorated to
reflect the new fact of Grant’s election.29

Wisconsin voters gave U. S. Grant a 24,147 vote popular majority
in 1868 and the state’s eight electoral votes. Tanners in the Oshkosh
victory parade, therefore, carried new transparencies on November
5 on which were lettered “Victory,” and “Liberty and Law.” A large
number of private residences were illuminated in honor of the
occasion as were a great number of the buildings on Main Street. In
one store window there was “a representation of two game cocks,
one flat on his back, the other in the act of crowing vociferously.” In a
clothing store window were the words “Grant will suit us fine,” very
handsomely created from colored paper. Many merchants
decorated their show windows with American flags against a
background of red, white and blue colored paper.

On a final note of victory, the Oshkosh Journal , a Republican
newspaper, reported that in preparation for the victory parade,
“The Journal office invested in candles (to illuminate its windows)
and lifts its hat in acknowledgement of the three rousing cheers
given it by the Tanners in passing. About nine o’clock the cannon
began to peal forth its music . . . ”30, 31, 32

NOTATIONS

1. Current, Richard N., The History of Wisconsin II, 284 (Madison, Wis. S.H.S.W.,
1976).

2. Oshkosh Weekly Northwestern, November 2, 1860.

3. Oshkosh Weekly Northwestern, September 24, 1868. Technically, the Republican
party in 1868 was titled the National Union Republican party.

4. Oshkosh Weekly Northwestern , September 10, 1868.

5. The Chicago Tribune of September 29, 1868 reprinted a letter to the editor
published in the Chicago Evening Post from Edward S. Salomon, Commanding
General, Chicago Tanner Corps, crediting Gen. R. W. Smith with first
suggesting the name Tanners and also crediting Gen. Smith and Major J. R.
Hayden with organizing the first Tanner club in the Chicago Tenth Ward on J uly
24, 1868. The Tenth Ward Republican Club adopted the campaign name Grant
Tanners, adopted a uniform consisting of an oil cloth cape, a military style cap, a
tanners leather apron and a torch. For the aesthetic taste of other companies
which they hoped to organize, they provided that both the cape and cap could be
of any color and be trimmed to suit local taste. The persons who signed the first
Tanner Club muster roll on July 24th were Generals R. W. Smith, Edward S.
Salomon, Major J. R. Hayden and about a dozen others.

I

230 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

6. The Chicago Tribune editor claimed in the Tribune issue of September 29, 1868,
that Major J. R. Hayden had consulted with him about organizing Tanner
companies prior to the organization of the first Tanner club, that the editor had
been the first to urge that “Each man must wear a tanners apron”. The editor also
authorized Major Hayden to “tell those at your meeting tonight that I heartily
second Smith’s suggestion of the name Tanner, and believe it will spread like
wildfire. Tell them the Tribune may be depended upon to do all it can to
encourage and multiply Grant Tanner clubs in Chicago and the west.”

While there appears to be no reason to doubt the Chicago Tribune editor’s account
of the origin of the name Tanner, it is also true that the Tanner organization in
1868 was merely a variation on the major theme of the (Republican) Boys in Blue.
The Tanners were also closely related organizationally to the famous.Civil War
veterans organization, the Grand Army of the Republic.

The organizational origin of the (Republican) Tanner clubs of Wisconsin can be
traced to September, 1865, when Radical Republican soldier-politicians
organized the Soldiers and Sailors National Union League. In Wisconsin the
president of the League was J. K. Proudfit, Madison, a Republican memberofthe
Wisconsin Legislature and a close friend of Wisconsin Governor Lucius
Fairchild. Cassius Fairchild, the governor’s brother, was secretary of the
Wisconsin League and Governor Fairchild was himself a prominent League
member.

The Wisconsin Soldiers and Sailors voted in a June convention in 1866 to join the
Grand Army of the Republic, becoming the GAR’s Wisconsin Department. In a
mere change of the guard, Gen. James K. Proudfit, former Wisconsin president
of the S. & S. N. U. L. was elected Wisconsin Deputy Commander of the GAR,
Cassius Fairchild became one of the GAR vice presidents, Gen. T. S. Allen,
Wisconsin Secretary of State was elected to the GAR Administrative Council and
Governor Fairchild and future governor Jeremiah Rusk were among prominent
Republicans who became charter members of the first Wisconsin GAR post in
Madison.

By February of 1868 the Republican Radicals and their GAR allies had decided
to back Gen. U. S. Grant for the Presidency and also decided that for political
reasons it would be advisable for them to keep the GAR officially out of politics in
1868. Both objectives were served by promoting a call for an ad hoc National
Convention of Soldiers and Sailors in the very same week and in the same city as
the Republican party’s national convention. The motivation for this interesting
timing was to give the Soldiers and Sailors Convention the political legitimacy to
speak for all Republican veterans and at the same time to exert political pressure
on the Republican National Convention in behalf of the candidacy of Gen. Grant.

The Soldier and Sailor delegates reportedly paraded through Chicago’s streets
“with much band blaring and flag waving, with cheers for Grant and groans for
President Andrew Johnson”. More to the point, the Soldiers and Sailors
delegates adopted resolutions declaring Grant the choice for President of
Republican veterans of the Union’s armed forces. The Soldiers and Sailors
Convention then had the cleverness to choose a Committee of One Hundred of

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their most prestigious soldiers to carry their request for Grant’s nomination to
the Republican Convention which only the next day opened a two day run at
Chicago’s Crosby Opera House.

Of interest to Wisconsin people, the temporary chairman and by an unusual
circumstance, the permanent chairman of the Soldiers and Sailors Convention in
Chicago in 1868 was Wisconsin Governor Lucius Fairchild. Consequently, when
the Soldiers and Sailors voted to send their endorsement of Gen. Grant to the
Republican National Convention, it was Governor Fairchild who headed the
delegation. When the Soldiers and Sailors Committee of One Hundred proceeded
to the stage of Crosby Opera House where the Republican Convention was being
held, they walked to the accompaniment of thunderous cheers from not only the
Grant delegates but from many others who were thrilled to see the most famous
Civil War Republican soldiers in the nation. Governor Fairchild, who himself
symbolized soldier sacrifices in the Civil War, having lost his left arm at
Gettysburg, told the Republican Convention that the Soldiers and Sailors wanted
Grant nominated for President. The veterans pressure tactic succeeded in so
upstaging other potential candidates that Grant was nominated on the first
ballot.

Before the Soldiers and Sailors Convention of 1868 adjourned, they created a
national continuing committee to organize local political clubs from Republican
veterans for the Presidential campaign. This national committee of Republican
veterans established a central committee in each Northern state. Gen. Chipman,
National Adjutant General of the GAR at the time, acted as the national
secretary of the Republican veterans clubs. The National Committee of
Republican Soldiers and Sailors clubs decided that all clubs organized under
their auspices in 1868 would be called “Boys in Blue”.*

*Source: Mary R. Bearing Veterans in Politics: Story of the GAR , 148-151 (Baton
Rouge, La.: LSU Press, 1952).

Republican Radicals appear to have organized Civil War veterans into army
style companies of Boys in Blue from eastern Pennsylvania and New York to
Massachusetts. Western Republican Radicals, however, including those in
Wisconsin, appear to have organized Tanner companies identical with the Boys
in Blue except for their name and distinctive leather aprons. Tanner companies
were organized in the Presidential campaign of 1868 by local Republican clubs
in areas as widely separated as Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago,
Minneapolis, Omaha and Kansas City.

7. Union White Boys in Blue: Constitution and Proceedings . . . , Platform plank
No. 4 (Indianapolis, Ind., April 8, 1868).

8. Collins, Herbert R., “Political Campaign Torches,” United States National
Museum Bulletin 241 Paper 45, pages 1-44, published in the Smithsonian
Institution's Contributions From the Museum of History and Technology ,
Washington, D. C., 1964, examined 88 patented torches on record in the U. S.
Patent Office. The earliest political torch was patented in 1837 and the last was

232

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

patented in 1900. In the 1860s the most popular torch in Collins’ catalogue
appears to have been a swivel type in which the torch frame was a half-moon
shaped sheet metal strap with a swivel ring fastened at a right angle to the tips
of the half-moon. The torch lamp was fastened to a pivot inside the ring so that
the torch bowl would always swivel into an upright position regardless of how it
was tilted. In the 1870s and later, most torches used a two tine frame with the
pivots for the torch located almost at the inside tips of the tine. Most torches held
l-V/2 pints of kerosene.

9. A curiosity of the base horns used in bands of the Civil War period is that the
bells of the horns opened to the rear of the player instead of facing forward. In
parades this may have made it easier for marchers to keep in step because the
rhythm of the base horns would have been heard clearly far to the rear of the
band.

10. Janesville Gazette, October 17, 1868.

11. Madison State Journal, October 31, 1868.

12. Fond du Lac Journal, November 5, 1868.

13. Janesville Gazette, October 17, 1868.

14. Oshkosh Journal, October 17, 1868.

15. Fond du Lac Commonwealth, October 28, 1868.

16. La Crosse Daily Democrat, September 18, 1868.

17. Milwaukee Sentinel, October 12, 1868.

18. Ibid., November 3, 1868.

19. Daily Milwaukee News, October 27, 1868.

20. Oshkosh Northwestern and Oshkosh Journal, October 22, 1868.

21. Oshkosh Northwestern, November 5, 1868.

22. Madison State Journal, October 14, 1868.

23. Oshkosh Journal, September 26, 1868.

24. Oshkosh City Times, September 29, 1868.

25. Madison State Journal, October 22, 1868.

26. Oshkosh City Times, July 14, 1868.

27. Eau Claire Free Press, October 15, 1868.

1978]

Goff— Torchlight Soldiers

233

28. Oshkosh Journal, November 7, 1868; the Sawyer quotation is from Richard N.
Current, Pine Logs and Politics, 59-60 (Madison, Wis. State Historical Society
of Wisconsin, 1950).

29. The largest victory parade in the nation was probably the parade of 20,000
Chicago Tanners held on the night of November 6th after the election.
According to the Chicago Tribune, there were four miles of torchlights and a
crowd of 200,000 people.

30. Oshkosh Journal, November 7, 1868.

31. Wisconsin Newspapers in which references were found to the Tanners and /or
the White Boys in Blue:

Berlin Courant

Eau Claire Free Press

Fond du Lac Commonwealth; Journal

Green Bay Advocate

Hudson Star and Times

Janesville Daily Gazette

Kenosha Telegraph

La Crosse Daily Democrat

Madison Daily Democrat; State Journal

Milwaukee Sentinel; Seebote; Daily Milwaukee News

Neenah Island City Times

Oshkosh City Times; Journal; Weekly Northwestern
Racine Advocate

Sheboygan Evergreen City Times

Oshkosh City Times; Journal; Weekly Northwestern

Racine Advocate

Sheboygan Evergreen City Times

In addition to the above papers, the Chicago Tribune was scanned from July to mid-
November, 1868

32. We have also consulted the following published volumes for references to
reconstruction politics.

Binkley, Wilfred E., American Political Parties: Their Natural History (New York :
Alfred A. Knopf, 1963, 4th edition).

Coleman, Charles H., The Election of 1868: The Democratic Effort to Regain Control
(New York: Columbia Univ. Studies in History, 1933, Economics and Public Law,
No. 392).

Collins, Herbert R., “Political Campaign Torches,” United States National Museum
Bulletin 241, Paper 45, pages 1-44 published by the Smithsonian Institution’s
Contributions From the Museum of History and Technology, Washington, D. C.
1964.

Bearing, Mary R., Veterans in Politics: Story of the G. A. R. (Baton Rouge, L. S. U.
Press, 1952).

Dunning, Wm. A., Reconstruction, Political and Economic 1865-1877 (New York:
1907; reprinted by J & J Harper Editions, Harper & Row, 1968).

234

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Fleming, Walter L., The Sequel of Appomattox: A Chronicle of the Reunion of the
States (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1919).

Heitman, Francis B., Historical Register and Dictionary on the United States Army,
I, 496-497 (Washington: USGPO, 1903).

Hicks, John D., The American Nation: A History of the United States From 1865 to the
Present (Boston: Houghton Mifflin 1946).

Keller, Morton, The Art and Politics of Thomas Nast (New York: Oxford Univ. Press,
1968).

Ross, Sam, The Empty Sleeve: A Biography of Lucius Fairchild (copyrighted by
S.H.S.W. for Wisconsin Civil War Centennial Commission, 1964).

Schlessinger, Arthur M., ed., History of U. S. Political Parties, II (New York:
Chelsea House-R. W. Bowker, 1973).

Silber, Irwin, Songs America Voted By (Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Books, 1971).

Union White Boys in Blue: Constitution and Proceedings of the Soldiers and Sailors
Convention: (Democratic), Indianapolis, Ind., April 8, 1868 (Indianapolis: Sentinel
Printing & Binding, 1868).

LOSS OF WETLANDS ON THE WEST SHORE
OF GREEN BAY

T. R. Bosley

University of Wisconsin —
Green Bay

ABSTRACT

The Land Survey of 1832-66 found 86 square
miles of coastal marshes and swamps on
Green Bay's west shore. In recent years,
marsh and swamp habitat on the west shore have been reduced
severely until approximately 24.3 square miles remain at low water
and 17.5 at high levels. Both natural and human influences have
contributed to wetland diminution and species composition has
been altered at several sites.

INTRODUCTION

Freshwater and marine coastal wetlands may serve exclusive
(fish spawning habitat versus site for disposal of dredge spoils) or
complementary (wildlife refuge and environmental education)
purposes. In contrast to marine coastal wetlands, the impact of
human alterations upon freshwater coastal wetlands is more
difficult to assess, because there are few baseline studies of
prealteration natural conditions. Both ecological and economic
evaluations are required before a reliable assessment can be made
of the probable impact of a proposed wetland use. An evaluation
would be enhanced by a review of the environmental changes
associated with each of the previous uses of a wetland site. This
historical perspective provides for a more accurate assessment of
the beneficial and deleterious influences affecting ecological
integrity.

Bedford, et al. (1975) called for improved ecological data for the
coastal wetlands of Lakes Michigan and Superior. The 495 miles of
Lake Michigan shoreline in Wisconsin now support less than 30
miles of coastal wetland (Kleinert, 1970). These wetlands occur on

235

236

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

the west shore of Green Bay, the eastern tip of the Door County
peninsula, and the lower portions of several rivers tributary to Lake
Michigan. This paper (Bosley, 1976) investigates the loss of coastal
wetlands on the west shore of Green Bay between the Fox and
Menominee Rivers. The early explorers (Kellogg, 1917; Martin,
1926a and b; Neville, 1926; Carver, 1956; Thwaites, 1959) provided
only weak documentation of the species composition and
appearance of the prominent marsh areas on the west shore; this
precluded evaluation by recent wetland classifications (Shaw and
Fredine, 1956; Cowardin and Johnson, 1973; Golet and Larson,
1974).

METHODOLOGY

The quantity of coastal wetland habitat of the study area was
approximated through library and field studies. The term wetland
refers to land that possesses a water table at or above the soil surface
for at least part of the year and that supports plant species adapted
to periodic or continuous flooded conditions. A marsh is wetland
containing only herbaceous vegetation, while a swamp is wetland
containing both woody and herbaceous vegetation. The early land
survey plat maps (Federal Survey Plat Books, 1832-1866) and
recent aerial imagery (Agricultural Stabilization and Conservation
Service, 1958, 1966, 1967; Lake Survey Center, 1969; Bay-Lake
Regional Planning Commission, 1975) were used to obtain the
presettlement and recent estimates of the west shore coastal
wetlands. Polar planimetry (Lind, 1974) of the maps and
photographs was used to determine area. Howlett,s( 1974) examina¬
tion of Green Bay coastal wetland vegetation delineated the marsh
and swamp habitats for the planimetry. A marsh and swamp were
considered coastal if they bordered the shoreline or were contiguous
with wetland bordering the shoreline. The boundary delineation for
marsh and swamp habitats seen in the recent imagery was verified
with Lintereur (Personal communication, 1975, L. Lintereur, Area
Game Manager, Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources) and
by onsite inspection to clarify vegetation boundaries. The west shore
tributaries used to delineate segments of wetland are the F ox River,
Duck Creek, Big Suamico River, Little Suamico River, Pensaukee
River, Oconto River, Peshtigo Marsh (coastal wetland on both sides
of the Peshtigo River), and the Menominee River.

1978]

Bosley— Loss of Wetlands

237

FRESHWATER COASTAL WETLANDS FROM THE
EARLY 1840’s UNTIL RECENT YEARS

The Land Office Survey and Plat Maps
The land survey of Wisconsin was conducted during the years
1832-1866. The west shore of Green Bay, where the majority of
Wisconsin’s Lake Michigan wetlands exist, was surveyed between
1834 and 1844. Finley (1951) and Curtis (1959) reviewed the
procedures used by the surveyors. “Botanically, these surveyors’
records constitute an unbiased sample of vegetation as it existed in
presettlement times. ... In addition to these figures on the trees,
the surveyors also listed other species they saw along their traverse
and gave a brief summary of the understory vegetation. When trees
were lacking, as on prairies or on marshes, this fact was clearly
indicated. Swamps were distinguished from uplands . . . From the
surveyors’ own statements as to the nature of the vegetation and
from their maps, areas can be delimited which appear to be
relatively homogeneous in composition.” (Curtis, 1959; p. 64). Finley
noted that the surveyors were given special instructions to record
the location of all marshes and swamps and to differentiate between
marsh and swamp in their field notes. The State of Wisconsin made
its claim for federal land provided by the Swamp Land Act of 1850
based on the marshes and swamps recorded on the plat maps
(Rohrbough, 1958).

Area of Coastal Wetlands in the 1840’s

The land survey plat maps and field notes were used to
approximate the presettlement coastal wetland area on the west
shore of Green Bay. The water level of Green Bay, when the west
shore was being surveyed, is not known. Because the water level at a
particular time influences wetland area it was necessary to
approximate the water level at the time of the survey. Examination
of water levels at the gaging stations at Milwaukee, Sturgeon Bay,
and Green Bay, Wisconsin (Lake Survey Center, 1836-1974; 1922-
1975; 1953-1975) suggests that the probable water level in Green
Bay in the early 1840’s was in the same range as the water levels
recorded in 1973-1975 at Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay. Equivalent
water levels permit a reasonably valid comparison between
presettlement years and the present.

The land survey plat maps (scale: 2"=1 mi.) revealed ap¬
proximately 14.63 mi.2 of marsh and 71.51 mi.2 of swamp (Table 1).

Table 1. Marshland losses between 1834 and 1975.

238

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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Bosley — Loss of Wetlands

239

The presettlement area of coastal marsh was calculated to include
areas labeled “marsh”, “meadow”, “wet meadow and marsh”, and
“rushes and wild rice”. The land survey field notes indicated that
swamps were dominated by tamarack ( Larix laricina) and white
cedar ( Thuja occidentalis), with varying amounts of black ash
( Fraxinus nigra), alder (Alnus), elm ( Ulmus ), and other woody
species. Except for the offshore rushes and wild rice, no species
were identified in the marshes.

Present Extent of Coastal Wetlands

The coastal wetland area in recent years was obtained from aerial
imagery. According to the Bay-Lake Regional Planning Commis¬
sion (scale of photographs: 1” = 800'), the high water elevation
imagery revealed approximately 5.89 mi.2 of marsh and 11.57 mi.2
of swamp. The Peshtigo Marsh (T. 29 N., R. 23, 24 E.) comprises 3.36
mi.2 of the total coastal marsh (Table 1). Wetland area under low
water elevation conditions was obtained from Agricultural
Stabilization and Conservation Service photography (scale of
photographs: 3" = 1 mi.). Because the A.S.C.S. pictures did not
include Sea Gull Bar (south of the Menominee River) an approxima¬
tion of wetland area at this site was obtained from photography
taken by the Lake Survey Center (scale of photograph: 4.2"=1 mi.).
These aerial photographs (in combination) represent recent low
water elevation conditions, which revealed approximately 17.08
mi.2 of marsh and 7.26 mi.2 of swamp (Table 2).

Howlett (1974) has provided the best recent documentation of
vegetation along the west shore. A wide variety of aquatic plants is
found throughout the area. At most sites, bluejoint ( Calamagrostis),
sedge ( Carex ), coontail (Ceratophyllum), smartweed (Polygonum),
bulrush (Scirpus), and cattail ( Typha ) are the predominant marsh
genera, while willow ( Salix ) is the predominant swamp tree.

DISCUSSION

Marsh and swamp habitat on the west shore of Green Bay has
been influenced by both human activity and water elevation
fluctuation for over 130 years. Comparison of the area of coastal
marsh determined from the land survey plat maps with the
estimated area determined under high water conditions in 1975
(comparable water levels as noted earlier), shows a marked
difference (Table 1). The most dramatic loss occurred between the
Fox River and Duck Creek. The 0.27 mi.2 of marsh remaining in

240

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Table 2. Marsh Area approximation at recent low water levels.

Reference Area

Marsh (mi.2)

Fox River —

Big Suamico River

4.21

Big Suamico River —

Little Suamico River

1.41

Little Suamico River —
Pensaukee River

2.02

Pensaukee River —

Oconto River

1.66

Oconto River —

Peshtigo Marsh

7.28

North of Peshtigo Marsh —
Menominee River

0.50

Total

17.08

May, 1975, includes several parcels surrounded by dredge spoils
and fly ash. Though some marsh was lost previously in the
construction of the J. P. Pulliam power plant and oil storage tanks
near the Fox River, the majority of this marsh was lost within the
last ten years. Construction of U.S. Highway 41/141 near the mouth
of Duck Creek, the deposition of dredge spoils in the Green Bay
diked disposal area, and the use of land west of the disposal area for
a landfiH site were responsible (Bosley, 1976). This area is notable
both for the quantity and quality of marsh destroyed; the marsh had
provided excellent waterfowl habitat (Martin, 1913; Hewlett, 1974;
U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1975). Another area of heavy marsh
loss lies between the Pensaukee and Oconto Rivers. The predomi¬
nant reason for the 2.02 mi.2 loss in this segment resulted from loss
of a 1.99 mi.2 marsh located two miles south of the Oconto River in
Sec. 6, T. 27 N., R. 22 E., and Sec. 30-32, T. 28 N., R. 22 E. (as
indicated on the land survey plat maps) — In summary, although
the reasons for loss of marshes over the entire west shore were not

1978]

Bosley — Loss of Wetlands

241

thoroughly investigated, the predominant causes appear to be
conversion to agricultural land, water pollution (in the southern
segment of Green Bay), dredge spoil disposal west of the Fox River,
and cottage settlement. When the water elevation of Green Bay
recedes only a few feet coastal marsh habitat increases greatly. In
contrast to high water conditions, when only prominent marsh
areas could be recognized, the imagery taken at low water levels
reveals marsh along nearly the entire west shoreline from Duck
Creek to the Menominee River. Many sites with a low slope,
especially those near river mouths, are exposed significantly when
the water elevation declines. This was particularly notable near
Duck Creek. Low water level imagery revealed an extensive delta,
with abundant emergent vegetation originating at the mouth of
Duck Creek. Other sites gaining notable amounts of marsh were
Peter’s Marsh (Sec. 1, T. 24 N., R. 20 E.; and the area directly south
of the Big Suamico River, where Long Tail Point connects to the
mainland. If the coastal marsh present at the time of the land survey
is added to the marsh created through declining water levels in the
years following the survey (Lake Survey Center, 1836-1974), the
total amount of coastal marsh probably exceeded the amount
estimated for the recent low water level. My estimate of the
presettlement low water elevation marsh is approximately 26 mi.2
(Tables 1 and 2) including 17 mi.2 of recent low water coastal marsh,
plus 9 mi.2 of marsh absent or lost at past and present high water
levels. The quality of the marsh as fish and game habitat was
probably higher in 1834-44 than at present. The poor documenta¬
tion of qualitative presettlement habitat characteristics (based on
the explorers’ journals and surveyors’ field notes) does not permit
detailed conclusions on the attributes of the original marsh.

Extensive loss of swamp habitat is also evident near Green Bay’s
west shore. This loss of swamps (71.51 mi.2 recorded in the land
survey plat maps and 11.57 mi.2 at high water level) has occurred
primarily through timber harvesting, use for agriculture, and
replacement of tamarack-alder-white cedar-black ash swamps by
other tree species (Bosley, 1976). Prominent coastal swamps existed
near the west shore between Duck Creek and the Peshtigo River,
but reduction in area is particularly notable between the Oconto
and Peshtigo Rivers (T. 28 N., R. 22 E., and T. 29 N., R. 22, 23 E.).
This area contained 37.26 mi.2 of the 71.51 mi.2 of coastal swamp
indicated on the land survey plat maps. Tilton (1871), Roth (1898),
and Wells (1968) all remarked that the swamps in the west shore

242

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

area rested on sandy soil overlain with peat (which impeded soil
drainage). The peat was destroyed as the swamps were burned after
timber harvest was completed. Peat destruction improved soil
drainage after timber harvest was completed. The swamp trees
were replaced by trees adapted to drier conditions. The difference
in swamp approximations for recent low water (7.26 mi.2) and high
water conditions (11.57 mi.2) is attributed to changing land use
between the years when the photographs were taken.

Despite the changes noted in habitat quantity or quality, some
sites on Green Bay’s west shore today conform closely to notations on
the land survey plat maps. For examples at the Peshtigo Wildlife
Area (T. 29 N., R. 23, 24 E.) both the land survey plat maps and
recent photographs indicate an extensive marsh bordered by woody
vegetation and the Peshtigo River still broad and meandering at its
mouth. However, the tamarack noted on the plat maps is no longer
present. The Sensiba Wildlife Area (located immediately north of
the Big Suamico River in T. 25 N., R. 21 E.) was noted as a site of
“rushes and wild rice”.

CONCLUSION

This study attempts to document: (l)the change in the quantity of
Green Bay’s west shore coastal wetland habitat between the 1840’s
and 1975; (2) the principal areas where changes have been the most
prominent; and (3) the natural and human influences responsible.
The wetland data suggest that changes in Green Bay’s water level
have a greater influence on the amount of marsh on the west shore of
Green Bay than have the alterations caused by human intervention
since 1840. Wetland loss through human interaction tends to be
permanent although corrective measures can reclaim some
wetland, whereas natural wetland lost as a result of rising water is
regained when the water level declines. Qualitative changes in the
wetland habitat have been documented (Howlett, 1974; Bosley,
1976), but the paucity of qualitative data from presettlement and
early settlement years restricts conclusions. In examining Green
Bay’s west shore coastal wetlands, an historical perspective of
ecological integrity may permit decisions affecting the future use of
a particular area to be made with greater wisdom and foresight.

1978]

Bosley — Loss of Wetlands

243

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks to Dr. Hallett Harris, my major professor at the
University of Wisconsin-Green Bay and to Mrs. Deborah Tesmer,
who typed the final draft of my thesis.

LITERATURE CITED

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_ 1966. Aerial Photography of Marinette County, Wisconsin. U. S. Dep. of Agr.,

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_ , _ _ 1967. Aerial Photography of Brown County, Wisconsin. U. S. Dep. of Agr.,

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Bay-Lake Regional Planning Commission. 1975. Brown, Oconto, and Marinette
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Curtis, J. T. 1959. The Vegetation of Wisconsin: an Ordination of Plant Communities.
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244

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

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Golet, F. D. and J. S. Larson. 1974. Classification of Freshwater Wetlands in the
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Howlett, G. F. 1974. The rooted vegetation of West Green Bay with reference to
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Kellogg, L. P. (ed.). 1917. Early Narratives of the Northwest 163 U-l 699. Barnes and
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Kleinert, S. J. 1970. Exploring Lake Michigan wetlands. Wis. Gonserv. Bull. 35: 18-
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_ 1922-1975. Monthly and annual mean elevations of Lake Michigan at Sturgeon

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_ 1953-1975. Monthly and annual mean elevations of Lake Michigan at Green

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- - 1969. Aerial Photography of Menominee Harbor, Mich, and Wis. U. S. Army

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Lind, 0. T. 1974. Handbook of Common Methods in Limnology. C. V. Mosby Co., St.
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Martin, D. B. 1913. History of Broum County, past and present. Vol I and II. S. J.
Clark, Chicago.

_ _ 1926a. The bourough of Fort Howard. Green Bay Hist. Bull. 2:1: 11-19.

_ 1926b. The bourough of Fort Howard. Green Bay Hist. Bull. 2:2: 13-20.

Neville, A. C. 1926. Historical sites about Green Bay: the landfall of Nicolet, 1634.
Green Bay Hist. Bull. 2:3: 1-16.

Rohrbough, M. J. 1958. The acquisition and administration of the Wisconsin swamp
land grant. 1850-1865. M. S. thesis. University of Wisconsin, Madison.

Roth, F. 1898. Forestry Conditions of Northern Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist.
Survey, Madison.

1978]

Bosley — Loss of Wetlands

245

Shaw, S. P., and Fredine, C. G. 1956. Wetlands of the United States. Circular 39, U. S.
Fish, Wildlife Serv., Washington, D. C.

Thwaites, R. G.(ed.). 1959. The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents. Pageant Book
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Tilton, F. 1871. Sketch of the Great Fires in Wisconsin at Peshtigo, the Sugar Bush ,
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Wells, R. W. 1968. Fire at Peshtigo. Prentice-Hall, Inc., Englewood Cliffs, New
Jersey.

SMALL MAMMALS OF THE TOFT POINT
SCIENTIFIC AREA,

DOOR COUNTY -WISCONSIN: A PRELIMINARY SURVEY

Wendel J. Johnson,

University of Wisconsin

Center— Marinette

ABSTRACT

L

ive and snap trapping techniques
were used to examine the presence
and abundance of small mammals at
Toft Point. The eleven species found include northern taxa such as
(Lepus, Clethrionomys) which are typical of boreal forests, and
southern forms (Microtus, Sciurus carolinensis and Glaucomys
sabrinus). The southern species, with their main distribution south
of Door Peninsula, are probably the most recent additions to the
Toft Point small mammal assemblage, indicative of a northward
advance after retreat of Wisconsin glaciation.

INTRODUCTION

This project surveyed the terrestrial small mammal community
of the Toft Point Scientific Area to determine what mammals were
present and whether they were exclusively boreal species. Results
are compared to previous studies of Door County mammals
(Jackson, 1961; Long, 1974) and to a small mammal study done in
similar habitats in northern Michigan (Manville, 1949).

Toft Point lies approximately 2.4 km northeast of Bailey’s
Harbor, Wisconsin. The history of the Toft Point Natural Area, as
related to me primarily by Emma Toft of Bailey’s Harbor, is one of a
relatively unexploited forest. Miss Toft’s parents settled there in the
second half of the 19th Century and her father, Kersten Toft, was
employed by a Michigan firm interested in the limestone underly¬
ing the land. Limestone was mined and ships would dock at the

246

1978]

Johnson — Small Mammals

247

point for a load to take to Michigan. Remnants of this operation can
still be found, including dock pilings, rock piles, mine excavations
and an old smelter. Mr. Toft gradually accumulated 300 acres as
compensation for his labors.

After mining ceased the family operated a resort with half a
dozen small guest log cabins. The resort ceased operation in the
1960s and in 1967 the land was given to the University of Wisconsin-
Green Bay to be used in a manner compatable with the Wisconsin
Scientific Area designation that it also received.

VEGETATION

The Wisconsin Geological and Natural History Survey map of
Wisconsin early vegetation codes the area northeast of Bailey’s
Harbor as boreal forest balsam fir (Abies balsamea) and white
spruce (Picea glauca).

The Wisconsin Scientific Areas Preservation Council (1973) lists
three major plant communities for the Toft Point area:

Northern dry-mesic forest with white pine (Pinus strobus),
red maple (Acer rubrum), and red oak (Quercus rubra),
and

Northern mesic forest with sugar maple (A. saccharum), hemlock
(Tsuga candensis), and yellow birch (Betula lutea)
and

Northern wet-mesic forest with white cedar (Thuja occi dentalis),
balsam fir (Abies balsamea), and black ash (Fraxinus nigra).

This boreal outlier is far south of the only substantial boreal forest
stands in Wisconsin which lie along Lake Superior. Curtis (1959)
indicates that the influence of on-shore winds off Lake Michigan
keep the summer temperatures and evaporation rates relatively
low.

A species list of the known flora of the Toft Point Area was
compiled during this study as a result of our observations and those
made by David B. Lellinger in 1957-59. Dr. Dellinger’s collection is
in the University of Illinois herbarium in Urbana. An extensive list
of plants has also been compiled by Roy Lukes of the adjacent
Ridges Sanctuary.

248

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

MATERIALS AND METHODS

The quarter method (Curtis and Cottam, 1962) was used to
sample vegetation of a 1 ha grid where we were also trapping red
squirrels. Importance values were calculated and indicated that
white cedar (IV 108.5) and white pine (IV 106.8) were the dominant
trees. Species present but of lesser importance were hemlock (17.0),
red pine (P. resinosa) (28.2), white spruce (13.0), and paper birch (B.
papyrifera) (24.7). In the sapling category, balsam fir (202.8)
accounted for two-thirds of the total importance value with white
spruce (29.1), mountain maple (A. spicatum) (30.2) and white cedar
(26.5) of much lesser importance.

The ground layer species matched closely the published list for
boreal forests, (Curtis) (1959). Canada dogwood (Cornus canaden¬
sis), bigleaf aster (Aster macrophyllus), twinflower (Linnaea
borealis), Canada mayflower (Maianthemum canadense) are among
the most conspicuous species. The shrub layer is dominated by
thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus) wherever sufficient light is
available.

Field work began in June, 1971 and proceeded intermittently
until April 10,1976. Live and snap-trapping revealed information
on the more common (abundant) species. Personal observations and
discussions with Ms. Toft and Mr. Lukes yielded information on
additional species that were not trapped. The literature was
searched and reviewed for previous small mammal records of the
region. Two sources have been most useful; Jackson’s Mammals of
Wisconsin (1961) and Long’s Mammals of the Lake Michigan
Drainage Basin (1974).

Longworth and National live traps, and Museum Special snap-
traps were used. Most trapping was done with Museum Special
traps set out usually in a line of 20 stations at 15.2 meter intervals
with three traps per station. This pattern is similar to the type B
lines of the North American census of small mammals suggested by
Calhoun (1948). All major habitats mentioned above were sampled
including a former pasture which is interspersed with low juniper
clumps (Juniperus communis). A total of 1366 trap-nights were
accumulated in 13 trapping sessions. An additional 321 trap-days

1978]

Johnson — Small Mammals

249

were recorded using the National live-traps (22.9 x 22.9 x 60.9 cm)
on a grid pattern established to monitor red squirrel populations.
Animal calls and tracks were also recorded.

RESULTS

The relative abundance values are of marginal use because equal
effort was not expended in trapping each habitat type, i.e. only 13.2
percent of the total 1366 trap-nights were in old pasture, yet
Microtus accounted for the second highest abundance. Most trap-
nights were accumulated in the habitats characteristic of the
northern dry-mesic, northern mesic and northern wet-mesic
forests. The average trapping success was 3.07 mice per 100 trap-
nights.

The results (Table 1) are similar to those Manville (1949) reported
in an extensive study of the Huron Mountains region west of
Marquette, Michigan. In his study, Peromyscus maniculatus
replaced P. leucopus , but in both cases they were the dominant small
mammal.

The meadow jumping mouse (Zapus hudsonicus) was a new
record for Door County and it apparently maintains as sparse a
population as it does over much of its range. It was taken in a
northern wet-mesic stand. Microtus pennsylvanicus, the meadow
vole, the second most abundant species captured, was restricted to
the old pasture habitat.

As Manville (1949) previously stated, Blarina brevicauda and
Sorex cinereus are the most common shrews in northern forest
habitats and they were the only insectivores caught at Toft Point.

The live-trap grid established for red squirrels in a northern dry-
mesic stand yielded numerous captures (120) of approximately 30
individuals. Although this grid was not operated on a regular basis,
results indicate a density of red squirrels similar to that reported in
other studies in coniferous habitats (i.e. at least 2-5 squirrels per
hectare). One gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) was trapped
during this period, suggesting a sparse population.

Forty-two individuals representing eleven species were trapped
(Table I).

250

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Table 1. Small mammal species trapped at Toft Point and their relative abundance.

Species trapped

Individuals

Relative

abundance

Sorex cinereus

Masked shrew

M

4

11.1

Blarina brevicauda
Short-tailed shrew

M

3

8.3

Lepus americanus

Snowshoe rabbit

1

*

Sciurus carolinensis

Gray squirrel

1

*

Tamiasciurus hudsonicus

Red Squirrel

M

32

*

Glaucomys sabrinus
Northern flying squirrel

M

2

5.5

Peromyscus leucopus
White-footed mouse

M

17

47.2

Clethrionomys gapperi
Red-backed vole

4

11.1

Microtus pennsylvanicus
Meadow vole

M

5

13.9

Zapus hudsonicus

Meadow jumping mouse

M

1

2.8

Mustela erminea

Short-tailed weasel

M

1

*

These species were not included in relative abundance calculations since the snap-
traps were not large enough to effectively capture adults.

M-Specimens in the University of Wisconsin-Marinete mammal collection.

Table 2. Small terrestrial mammals of Door County, Wisconsin.1

Species

Sorex cinereus

Masked Shrew

Jackson (1961)

Present Study
Long (1974) Toft Point

1978]

Johnson — Small Mammals

251

Blarina brevicauda +

Short-tailed shrew

+ +

Sylvilagus floridanus +

Eastern cottontail

+

Lepus americanus +

Snowshoe rabbit

+ +

Tamia striatus +

Eastern chipmunk

+ +

Marmota monax +

Woodchuck

+ +

Tamiasciurus hudsonicus +

Red squirrel

+ +

Sciurus niger +

Fox squirrel

+

Sciurus carolinensis +

Gray squirrel

+ +

Glaucomys sabrinus +

Northern flying squirrel

+ +

Peromyscus maniculatus +

Deer mouse

-

Peromyscus leucopus +

White-footed mouse

+ +

Clethrionomys gapperi +

Red-backed vole

+ +

Microtus pennsylvanicus +

Meadow vole

+ +

Ondatra zibethicus +

Muskrat

+

Rattus norvegicus +

Norway rat

as.

Mus musculus +

House mouse

as. +

Zapus hudsonicus

Meadow jumping mouse

+

Erethizon dorsatum +

Porcupine

+ +

1 specimens trapped and/or observed,
as.— assumed present.

252

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

DISCUSSION

Sub-specific designations were not examined because of the
paucity of specimens. However, in-depth examination of Toft Point
and Door Peninsula specimens, in general, is warranted and has
already been shown to be fruitful by Long's (1971) description of an
endemic subspecies ( peninsulae ) of the eastern chipmunk ( Tamia
striatus).

Much more research is needed on Toft Point Natural Area
mammals. Longer trapping sessions will undoubtedly account for
more uncommon species. Workers should be alert for species
previously recorded from Door County (Table 2). The boreal forest
remnant represented by Toft Point presumably does not prevent
non-boreal species from establishing marginal populations on this
tract.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Throughout this study, I have received the cooperation and assistance of Miss
Emma Toft and Mr. and Mrs. Roy Lukes. Dr. Keith White of University of
Wisconsin-Green Bay and Dr. Charles A. Long of UW-Stevens Point have been
helpful with historical information, personal requests and identifications. Three
UW-Green Bay undergraduates (Paul J. Kores, John R. Dorney and Robert A. Kahl)
provided essential aid in the fieldwork. Part of this work was sponsored by a N ational
Science Foundation Institutional Grant to the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.

LITERATURE CITED

Calhoun, J. B. 1948. North American census of small mammals. Johns Hopkins
Univ., Rodent Ecology Project., Announcement of Program, Release No. 1, 9p.
(mimeo)

Curtis, J. T. 1959. The vegetation of Wisconsin. Univ. of Wisconsin Press. Madison,
655p.

_____ and G. Cottam 1962. Plant ecology workbook. Burgess Publ. Co.,
Minneapolis, 193p.

Jackson, H.H.T. 1961. Mammals of Wisconsin. Univ. Wisconsin Press, Madison,
504p.

Johnson, W. J. 1973. A species list of the known flora of Toft Point Natural Area,
Bailey’s Harbor, Wisconsin. 2nd Ed. (mimeo) Univ. Wisconsin-Marinette.

1978]

Johnson — Small Mammals

253

Long, C. A. 1971. A new subspecies of chipmunk from the Door Peninsula, Wisconsin
(Mammalia: Rodentia). Proc. Biol. Soc. Wash., 84: 201-202.

Long, C. A. 1974. Environmental status of Lake Michigan Region..ANL/ES40 Vol.
15 Mammals of the Lake Michigan Drainage Basin. Argonne Natl. Laborator
Argonne, Ill. 108p.

Manville, R. H. 1949. A study of small mammal populations in northern Michigan.
Univ. Michigan, Misc. Publ. Mus. of Zoology, No. 73. 83p.

Wisconsin Scientific Areas Preservation Council. 1973. Wisconsin Scientific Areas.
Wisconsin Dept. Nat. Res., Publ. No. 1-2800, Madison, 50p.

THE DISTRIBUTION OF FLOODPLAIN HERBS
AS INFLUENCED BY ANNUAL FLOOD
ELEVATION

William J. Barnes

University of Wisconsin— Eau Claire

ABSTRACT

erbaceous plants were sampled in a
Chippewa River bottomland forest at
Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Spatial disper¬
sion patterns of the herbs were examined in relation to elevation,
soil characteristics and flood recurrence intervals. Frequency and
magnitude of spring floods appear to be the major influence on the
distribution of herbaceous species in this river bottom site.

ft

INTRODUCTION

Herbaceous species in floodplain forests may occur at high
densities in some places, although they are sparse in others. Locally,
species richness ranges from relatively high to low. Some species
appear to occur in distinct bands parallel to the river, whereas
others shift gradually in abundance with increasing distance from
the river. These patterns of spatial dispersion may be related to soil
characteristics, light conditions, topography, drainage, flood
elevation and frequency, or other factors. This study examined the
spatial distribution of herbaceous plants in a river bottom forest in
particular reference to the recurrence interval of floods.

STUDY AREA

The study area is one of several small crescent-shaped floodplains
in the middle reaches of the Chippewa River near Eau Claire,
Wisconsin (Fig. 1). Two well-defined terraces occur, the first
bottom, closest to the river, is flooded to some extent nearly every
year while the second bottom, above a rather steep slope, is rarely
flooded. The alluvium is primarily sand of Mt. Simon and Eau
Claire sandstone origin.

254

1978]

Barnes — Distribution s f Flood Plain Herds

255

-<■ - CHIPPEWA RIVER

Many small individuals of Acer saccharinum dominate the first
bottom and co-dominants, generally larger in size, include Populus
deltoides , Betula nigra and Salix spp. Ulmus americana, Fraxinus
Pennsylvania, and Acer negundo occur in small numbers. Shrubs
are not abundant, although thickets of Prunus virginiana and
scattered individuals of Sambucus canadensis , Lonicera X bella and
Ribes sp. are present.

The second bottom is dominated by Tilia americana, Juglans
cinerea, Ulmus americana and Celtis occidentals. Individuals of
Ostrya virginiana, Cary a cor diformis, Acer negundo, and Fraxinus
occur throughout the stand. Shrub cover is relatively sparse; a rich
mixture of spring ephemerals, as well as summer blooming species,
forms the understory.

METHODS

Five transects each composed of 300 contiguous 1 square foot
quadrats (0.1m2) were used to sample the herbaceous vegetation.
The transects were aligned perpendicular to the river and extended
from the water across much of the second terrace. Steel stakes,
driven into the ground at 100 foot intervals, were used on all
transects to expedite relocation. Quadrats were established with a
tape and one foot rule and the presence of all herbs was recorded in
each quadrat. Vegetation was sampled in late May and again in
August.

Elevation profiles were constructed using transit and stadia rod.
Elevation readings were taken at one foot (0.31m) intervals along

256

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

the vegetation transects. A topographic map, with two foot (0.61 m)
contour intervals, prepared by the University of Wisconsin-Eau
Claire, was used to establish elevation at the water line. A flood
stage marker on a nearby bridge was used in conjunction with a
surveying altimeter to check the elevation noted on the map.

Soil samples were taken every 6 feet (1.8 m) along the transects.
The litter, when present, was scraped away and soil was collected
from the upper 6 inches (15.2 cm). Soil texture was analyzed by the
Bouyoucos Method, and loss on ignition was used to determine the
percentage of organic matter (Wilde et al. 1964). The available
water holding capacity (AWC) of the upper 6 inches of soil was
estimated from a regression equation based on soil texture and
percentage organic matter as independent factors (Salter et al.
1966).

Ozalid paper booklets were used to measure integrated light
values (Friend 1961). The booklets, contained in small petri plates,
were placed at six foot (1.8 m) intervals along the transects and left
for four hours on a sunny August day. The booklets were then
collected, developed, and the number of bleached pages counted.
The results were compared to a previously prepared calibration
curve.

Flood frequency analysis was performed by a U. S. Geological
Survey method (Dalrymple 1960). The recurrence interval of
flooding was calculated from T = n+l/m where T = recurrence
interval in years, n = the number of years of record, and m = the
magnitude of the flood, with the highest flood given a value of 1. A
recurrence interval is defined as the average interval of the time
within which a flood of a given magnitude will be equaled or
exceeded once. The mean annual flood is defined by the U. S.
Geological Survey as a flood having a recurrence interval of 2.33
years. Flood stage data for the Chippewa River were obtained from
Geological Survey Supply Paper 1978 (Peterson and Gamble 1968).

RESULTS

Only the 21 species that occurred in at least 1% (15) of the 1500
quadrats were included in the analysis (Table 1). The frequency of
occurrence for each elevation level was calculated for each of these
species.

1978]

Barnes — Distribution of Flood Plain Herds

257

Table 1. Frequency of occurrence in May and August for 21 spring and summer
herbaceous species sampled in five transects.

May 1975

Frequency

August 1975

Frequency

Arisaema atrorubens

6.2

Circaea quadrisulcata

3.6

Dicentra cucullaria

3.6

Eupatorium rugosum

17.7

Erythronium albidum

2.1

Glechoma hederacea

7.4

Hydrophyllum virginianum

38.2

Impatiens capensis

3.7

Isopyrum biternatum

16.1

Laportea canadensis

42.3

Leonurus cardiaca

2.7

Oxalis stricta

4.3

Osmorhiza Claytoni

4.5

Parthenocissus inserta

8.7

Osmunda cinnamomea

5.8

Polygonum virginianum

4.4

Phlox divaricata

4.9

Polymnia canadensis

7.8

Sanguinaria canadensis

1.7

Trillium Gleasoni

1.7

Viola papilionacea

10.2

Although the profiles differ somewhat for the five transects all
have the same general pattern with a well-defined first bottom, a
slope and a second bottom (Fig. 2).

Of the 21 species, five occurred only above the elevation of the
mean annual flood, (764 feet) one only below that elevation, and 14
species both above and below mean flood level. Thus 20 species
occurred above, and 14 species occurred below the elevation of the
mean annual flood.

DISTANCE FROM RIVER (feet)

Fig. 2. Elevation profile of a typical transect (Transect #1) from the Chippewa
River inland

Frequency of occurrence was calculated by expressing the
number of quadrats of occurrence at each one-foot (0.31 m) elevation
level as a percentage of the total number of quadrats at that level.
The frequency of occurrence of each species was then plotted
against elevation and the statistical significance of the relationship
was tested.

FREQUENCY

258

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

25'

20-

• LAPORTEA CANADENSIS

/ 5 j *

to\ ' . .

• • •

51 •

0 -j - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 — >

25 '
20 '
15 -
10 •

5 •
0 -

HYDROPHYLLUM VIRGINIANUM

1— 'T

I 5 •

10 ■ .

5 ■

0 —
756

OXALIS STRICTA

• •

• •

• • •

- , - , , — r~ —j — i i i

760 764 768 772

ELEVATION (feet)

Fig. 3. Relationship of elevation to frequency of three herbs, Laportea canadensis,
Hydrophyllum virginianum and Oxalis stricta.

Distributions of eleven species were found to be significantly
(t.05) correlated with elevation (Fig. 3). Six of these, Arisaema
atrorubens , Dicentra cucullaria , Hydrophyllum virginianum ,
Trillium Gleason i, Phlox divaricata , and Parthenocissus inserta

1978]

Barnes — Distribution of Flood Plain Herds

259

occur at most elevation levels. Five species, Osmunda cinnamomea,
Osmorhiza Claytoni , Polymnia canadensis , Impatiens capensis ,
and Circaeaquadrisulcata occur almost entirely at higher elevation
levels. Occurrence of two species, Glechoma hederacea and Oxalis
stricta, was inversely correlated to elevation; they occur primarily
on the first bottom. Occurrence of the remaining eight species was
not significantly correlated with elevation.

Soil samples were labeled with the transect distance and
elevation level. The mean percentage silt plus clay content was
calculated for each one-foot (0.31 m) elevation level and plotted
against elevation (Fig. 4). silt plus clay content is very low on the
first bottom, highest on the slope, and relatively high on the second
bottom.

<

-J

o

+

CO

50 ■
40-

30-

I

20 i
10 ■

• •

»

0 ~| - — ! - - T —

754 758

762

766 ' 770

ELEVATION (feet)

Fig. 4. Soil texture (percentage silt and clay) in relation to elevation

The mean carbon content of the soil was also calculated for each
one-foot (0.31 m) elevation level. In general, carbon values of 3% or
less were obtained from samples collected on the first bottom, while
values of 6 to 7% occurred on the second bottom. Transition from
lower to higher levels is abrupt at the slope.

260

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

The mean available water capacity of the soil was also calculated
for each one-foot (0.31 m) elevation level. Low values of 1.2 to 1.6
in/ft. 10.2 to 13.4 cm/m) occur on the first bottom, while the values
on the second bottom are higher, ranging from 2.1 to 2.9 in/ft (17.3 to
24.3 cm/m) (Fig. 5).

o

£

<

3.0-.

2.6-

2,2'

I .8'
1.4

.04— — i - 1

754 758

• •

762

1 - » - 1 — - T

766 770

ELEVATION (feet)

Fig. 5. Available water holding capacity of the soil in relation to elevation

Correlations between integrated values of light and elevation, as
well as distance from the river bank were calculated for each of
three transects. No clear relationship existed between light
conditions and elevation, or light conditions and distance from the
river bank. Data were insufficient to compare light intensity and
herb frequency of occurrence .

The calculated mean annual flood level is at an elevation of 764
feet (233 m) above sea level. This is approximately midway up the
slope. (Fig. 6). Thus most points on the first bottom are flooded
nearly every year, and the second bottom is flooded about every 6 to
8 years.

1978]

Barnes — Distribution of Flood Plain Herds

261

Fig. 6. Flood frequency for various elevations above the Chippewa River

DISCUSSION

The close relationship between several soil properties and
topography is directly related to flooding. Changes in soil textures
are easily observed. A gradual decrease in sand and a concommi-
tant increase in silt plus clay content of the soil occur with
increasing distance from the river as a result of decreasing velocity
of the floodwater. Silt plus clay content of the soil is highest on the
slope, in most years the line of greatest inland penetration of the
floodwater. Floods remove much of the annual increment of litter on
the first bottom, resulting in the low carbon content of the soil as
compared to the relatively high carbon content on the second

262

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters ” [Vol. 66

bottom. These flood-produced changes in soil texture and soil
carbon content result in the differences in available water capacity,
generally the lowest near the river and higher with increasing
elevation.

Flooding also, influences the vegetation directly, a result of the
frequency of occurrence, the duration of inundation, and the
velocity of the floodwaters. Most floods that cover the second bottom
only last from one to a few days; flood water on the first bottom may
remain for weeks. In addition, while the floodwaters may flow
swiftly over the first bottom, especially near the bank, there is little
current across the second bottom, when it is flooded. Thus plants
growing on the first bottom are subjected not only to frequent
inundation, but to inundation of long duration, a swift current with
attending erosion and damage from floating ice and debris and
deposition of coarse sediment. On the other hand, vegetation on the
second bottom is flooded only occasionally for brief periods of time,
and with little erosion or damaging ice and debris and the deposits
consist of small amounts of fine sediment.

Species richness (i.e. number of species) and herbaceous cover are
greatest on the second bottom and decrease as elevation decreases.
An abrupt change in the number of species occurs near the elevation
of the mean annual flood level; most of the spring ephemerals are
absent below this elevation. These plants with low shade tolerance
survive the shady forest environment by becoming active early in
the spring, before the leaves of the trees are fully developed. For this
reason, they are at a disadvantage on the first bottom, since flooding
often occurs at the time they would be growing most actively.

Total understory abundance does not change dramatically at the
slope because a few species, Laportea canadensis, Hydrophyllum
virginiana, and Polygonum virginianum, are abundant on portions
of the first bottom. Aggregation is common on both terraces.
Vegetative reproduction is primarily responsible for aggregation
in most species. Flooding may also cause or modify the patchiness of
the vegetation, and it appears that many species form clones on the
second bottom which are generally larger than those on the first
bottom.

The 21 species present were arranged in order of increasing
frequency with increasing elevation (Fig. 7). The overall pattern is a
gradual and continuous shift in species composition with changing
elevation. In many species, there is also a gradual change in
frequency with change in elevation. As noted earlier significant

1978]

Barnes — Distribution of Flood Plain Herds

263

Glechoma hederacea
Oxalis stricta
Polygonum Virginia num
Laportea canadensis
Hydrophyl lum virginianum
Eupatorium rugosum
Phlox divaricate
Viola papilionacea
Leonurus cardiaca
Parthenocissus inserta
Isopyrum biternatum
Impatiens capensis
Arisaema atrorubens
Dicentra cucullaria
Sanguinaria canadensis
Osmorhiza Cf aytoni
Polymnia canadensis
Trillium gleasoni
Erythroniu m albidum
Circaea quadrisulcata
Osmunda cinnamomea

756 758 760 762 764 766 768 770 772

Elevation

Fig. 7. Distribution patterns of herbaceous species along the elevational gradient.
A thin line represents a frequency of less than 10 percent and a thick line a
frequency of greater than 10 percent.

correlations exist between frequency and elevation for 13 of the 21
species.

These relationships between flooding, soil properties, and herb
distribution lend themselves to examination by multivariate
analysis. Accordingly, a polar ordination was performed for eight
“stands”. A stand is defined as the herbs occurring at each of the
eight 2-foot (0.61 m) elevation intervals. The degree of com¬
positional similarity between each of the stand pairs was deter-

264

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

mined using the 2W/a + b index. Beals’ geometric method (Beals
1960) was used to position these eight stands in the plane defined by
the first two axes. The stands were labeled A (stand at the lowest
elevation) through H (highest elevation) (Fig. 8). The ordination
accounts for about 82% of the variability in the original matrix of
similarity values.

The first (x) axis appears to represent an elevation gradient
which decreases from left to right. The second ( Y) axis appears to be
related to soil texture (Fig. 4). There is an increase in the amount of
sand and a concommitant decrease in the amount of silt plus clay
from the bottom to the top along this gradient. The carbon content of
the soil and the available water capacity do not appear to be clearly
related to either of these two axes.

T > 2.33

B •

(758-759)

T< 2.33

o

(760-761)

(770-772)

G •

(768-769)

(766-767)

A •

(756- 757)

D •

(762-763)

(764 - 765) T~2.33

Fig. 8. Ordination of eight “stands” on the plane defined by the xy axis

1978]

Barnes — Distribution of Flood Plain Herds

265

The dashed line appears to represent the changes in the
vegetation that occur with changes in elevation and soil texture
(Fig. 8). The upper right end of the line represents the extreme of
low elevation and low silt plus clay content, while the opposite
extreme occurs at the other end of the line. No stands occur in the
lower left quadrant; thus only three conditions are represented,
namely: low elevation with low silt plus clay, high elevation with
intermediate amounts of silt plus clay, and intermediate elevation
with high silt plus clay. The greatest amount of silt plus clay occurs
at intermediate elevations, i.e. the level of the mean annual flood.

The recurrence intervals of floods at each of the eight elevation
levels were examined. Stands in the upper right quadrant all lie
below the mean annual flood level; stands in the upper left quadrant
are above this level, while the stands in the lower right quadrant fall
approximately at the elevation of the mean annual flood.

Species characteristic of stands occurring below the elevation of
the mean annual flood include Glechoma hederacea, Oxalis stricta ,
Laportea canadensis , Eupatorium rugosum, and Polygonum
virginiana. Species most characteristic of the stands which occur
above the elevation of the mean annual flood include Arisaema
atrorubens , Dicentra cucullaria , Erythronium albidum , Trillium
Gleasoni, Viola papilionacea, Osmunda cinnamomea, Sanquinaria
canadensis, Polymnia canadensis and Circaea quadrisulcata.
Despite the fact that stands which occur near the elevation of the
mean annual flood are well separated from the other stands in the
ord ination, there are no species characteristic of this elevation level.
Species which occur at both higher and lower elevation levels are
absent here, or at least occur at much lower densities. This elevation
also represents a transition zone in patterns of species abundance.

There is a direct relationship between elevation and soil texture,
carbon content and available water capacity. There is also a direct
relationship between elevation and the frequency of occurrence, or
the presence or absence, of many herbaceous species. Moreover,
there is a close correlation between the several soil properties and
the relative frequency of many of the herbs. It is not clear whether
the herbs are responding directly to flooding, directly to soil
influences, or to some combination of both. It is clear however that
the frequency and magnitude of flooding is, either directly or
indirectly, responsible for the aforementioned relationships, and
thus for the distribution patterns of the herbaceous species growing
on this river bottom site.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

LITERATURE CITED

Beals, E. 1960. Forest bird communities in the Apostle Islands of Wisconsin. The
Wilson Bulletin 72: 156-181.

Dalrymple, Tate. 1960. Flood-frequency Analysis. U. S. Geological Survey Water
Supply Paper 1543-A, 80 pp.

Friend, D. T. C. 1961. A simple method of measuring integrated light values in the
field. Ecology 42: 577-580.

Peterson, J. L. and C. R. Gamble. 1968. Magnitude and frequency of floods in the
United States. Part 5. Hudson Bay and upper Mississippi River Basins. U. S.
Geological Survey Water Supply Paper 1678.

Salter, P. J. and J. B. Williams. 1967. The influence of texture on the moisture
characteristics of soils. Soil Science 18: 174-181.

Wilde, S. A., G. K. Voigt, and J. G. Iyer. 1964. Soil and Plant Analysis for Tree
Culture. Oxford Publishing House, India.

A LEGACY OF PARADOX:

PURITANISM AND THE ORIGINS OF
INCONSISTENCIES IN AMERICAN VALUES

Philip L. Berg

University of Wisconsin — La Crosse

Paradoxes and contradictions within the
American value system have been
perceived by social observers dating as
far back as Bryce and Tocqueville. Robin Williams, in his
description of the major value orientations in American culture,
notes the curious co-existence of such values as external conformity,
racism and related group-superiority alongside the more frequent¬
ly extolled values of individualism, freedom and equality (Williams,
1963: 466-68). Williams’ analysis, while valuable, fails to probe the
historical origins of such internal contradictions. To use modern
American culture as an example of an ambivalent or even schizoid
culture is to exaggerate its uniqueness among world societies, past
and present. Such temporocentrism, unfortunately, lends credence
to the oft-repeated criticism that American sociology is anti- or at
least ahistorical in its approach. This paper is an attempt to move
beyond the time perspective common to American sociology, and to
search for same historical clues that might help explain the
existence of seemingly logical contradictions in the American value
system. It is not my purpose to consider Myrdal’s “American
Dilemma”— i. e., the gap between the real and ideal in American
culture— but to examine instead certain discrepancies within the
ideal culture itself.

Consensus among contemporary sociologists on the definition of
values is yet to be attained. One of the more popular definitions has
been Kluckhohn’s classically simple one of values as “conceptions of
the desirable.” Milton Rokeach offers a more elaborate definition:
“A value is an enduring belief that a specific mode of conduct or end-
state of existence is personally or socially preferable to an opposite
or converse mode of conduct or end-state of existence (Rokeach,
1973: 5-7). He also distinguishes between “instrumental” values

267

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

(desirable modes of conduct) and “terminal” values (desirable end-
states of existence). As standards which guide conduct, values
influence the person to take a particular stand on social issues,
shape his presentation of self to others, help him to decide if he is as
moral and competent as others, and serve as criteria by which he
may rationalize his beliefs or actions that otherwise would be
viewed as clearly unacceptable (Rokeach, 1973: 13).

It is important to recognize that values are “malleable,” in that
they can be utilized to justify a wide range of personal goals and
behavior— even courses of action which to an outsider might appear
blatantly contradictory. Unlike instincts, values do not lead in some
unthinking, inevitable fashion toward a predetermined pattern of
gratification-behavior. Values render certain courses of social
action more likely or more feasible than alternate courses of action.
To some degree, however, values receive their essential formulation
after the fact — as an explanation stemming from the need felt by a
person or a group to “account” for certain attitudes or behavior.
Therefore, internal consistency within any value system must be
seen as a highly precarious condition.

In the case of the American value system, there seems ample
empirical evidence supporting Williams’ assertion about the co¬
existence of one set of values centering on equality, freedom, and
individualism, and another set which focuses upon inequality,
ethnocentrism, and authoritarianism. The question of how these
inconsistencies came to exist poses a problem which will require
many more years to unravel. A part of the answer, I submit, might
be found in that complex, misunderstood network of beliefs and
values known as Puritanism, which reigned supreme in New
England during much of the seventeenth century. Of all the various
“heritages” adorning the rhetoric of the Bicentennial, none is more
far-reaching in its consequences than Puritanism. Robert Bellah, in
fact, recommends that we look at the ways in which Puritans dealt
with their problems “since American culture and even American
counter-culture remain Puritan to this day” (Bellah, 1975: 64).
While many social scientists might not agree completely with
Bellah’s statement, few would deny that Puritanism has had an
extremely powerful impact upon the formation of American
culture.

My goals in this study are (1) to determine whether there were, in
fact, value inconsistencies within New England Puritanism; (2) if
so, to determine whether such inconsistencies were similar in any

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269

important respects to those now existing within modern American
culture; and (3) to investigate the social and cultural factors which
appear to have been associated with such inconsistencies in
Puritanism . The problem of piecing together, in some sort of “causal
chain,” all of the ideas, people and events that comprise the historic
linkage between Puritanism and. the modern American value
system represents a task of monumental proportions— one which I
will happily leave to the social and intellectual historians. I hope
that my research will provide some “leads” towards an answer to
this broad question; however, this study is an exploratory probe into
the use of historical data for sociological purposes.

THE EMERGENCE OF THE PURITAN MIND

With a few noteworthy exceptions like Bellah, Merton and
Erikson, American sociologists have contributed little to an
understanding of the linkages between Puritanism and
“Americanism.” Historians, on the other hand, have produced a
wealth of studies and are currently engaged in a lively debate over
the very definition of Puritanism. Some think of it as a “mood” or
“thrust;” others see it as a special theological emphasis or a certain
kind of religious language (Simpson, 1955; Hall, 1970; Kammen,
1973; Lockridge, 1970). David Hall portrays the Puritan as a “man
in motion, a man possessed by a peculiar restlessness, a man who
may attack the idea of a gathered church while still a minister in
England, yet form such a group within his English parish and
publicly defend the practice once he reached America” (Hall, 1970:
331). Perry Miller, whose writings on Puritanism remain unsur¬
passed, defined Puritanism in very forthright terms as “that point
of view, that philosophy of life, that set of values which was carried
to New England by the first settlers in the seventeenth century”
(Miller and Johnson, 1963: 1). Some of the difficulty in concep¬
tualizing Puritanism stems from the curious amalgamation of
seemingly divergent, opposing elements which comprise it. On this
point, McLoughlin once remarked that “historians are still
wrangling over whether the Massachusetts Bay Colony was a
theocentric, totalitarian society, a Christian utopia or a seedbed of
the American democratic system, because it was all three”
(McLoughlin, 1968: 52).

One must be wary of “Americanizing” the Puritans, for as Miller
pointed out, 90 percent of the Puritan Mind was really the English
Mind, and actually what come to be “American” came mainly from

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this 90 percent. The 10 percent remaining, he argued, is what made
the Puritan pick up stakes and emigrate. This difference consisted
of the drive to achieve purity within the Church of England, and
also to attain a social purity through a social order dominated by
saints.

The English Puritans, unlike the Anglicans of their day, viewed
the Bible as the whole Word of God, a guide not only to theology, but
also to ethics, law, art, military tactics and all of social life. From the
perspective of their contemporaries, English Puritans were
arrogant literalists, but were not “fundamentalists” in the popular
sense of that term, since they saw no intrinsic conflict between
science and the Bible (Miller and Johnson, 1963: 43). Puritanism in
its original form in England must be understood in the context of
the status of its practitioners as an out-group with virtually no
power. The greater the powerlessness of the Puritans became, the
more heightened their conviction that the church must be freed
from the world in order to bring about the coming Kingdom of God
(Hall, 1970: 340-41). The heavily millenarian emphasis of the
movement provided many Englishmen with a new identity, just as
crusades and cultic movements in all periods of history have
bestowed radically altered identities upon their converts. Puritans
shared the belief of their fellow English Protestants that God
extended His special providence toward England, and that
eventually God’s children would march to war against anti-Christ
and his hosts. The Puritans found ample opportunity to use this
rhetoric later, applying it in numerous ways to their “holy cause” in
North America.

PARADOXES IN PURITANISM

Examination of a wide range of primary and secondary source
material, such as sermon literature, missionary correspondence,
court records, descriptions of community life, and interpretations of
Puritan experience by both insiders and outsiders makes it clear
that Puritanism was not astatic, monolithic ideology. It was instead
a highly complex and dynamic movement filled with inner tensions
and contradictions not unlike those observed in American culture
today. There are many spheres of Puritan thought which can be
identified as containing contradictory internal strains, but those
areas of Puritanism most germane to the purposes of this paper may
be identified under the following topical headings: (1) in¬
dividualism and “free will”; (2) freedom and equality; (3)
democracy; (4) deviance and dissent; and (5) racism.

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Individualism and Free Will

Although Puritan theology emphasized Man's original sinfulness
and helplessness before an autocratic God, Man was regarded as
having been created a rational, autonomous and responsible being
who was “good" to the degree that God’s will guided the affairs of the
“regenerate.” Even the regenerates, however, had to be vigilant in
seeking out signs of sin in themselves.

On the doctrine of predestination, often considered the hallmark
of Puritan theology, the Puritans were ambivalent. Their theology
unquestionably contains many elements of predestinarian doctrine,
but their social behavior seems to have been marked much more
clearly by voluntarism. They most assuredly did not resign
themselves to fate, waiting for some inexorable divine plan to
mysteriously unfold. A form of theological individualism was
clearly evident in their belief that every individual must assume an
active role in working out his own salvation. He could not rely upon
group membership, community participation or the mediating
functions of a priest. His religiosity, to use Allport’s term, was to be
“intrinsic,” as he sought to appropriate God’s grace through a vivid
and highly individualistic religious experience. “Even the poor soul
condemned to Hell,” comments Ralph Perry (1949: 39), “received
God’s personal attention.”

In social relations, however, Puritans were expected to form one
united front. “The lone horseman, the solitary trapper are not
figures of the Puritan frontier” (Miller, 1969: 42). Puritans moved
about in whole groups or towns. Individuals acting outside the
bounds of their communities, they believed, personified the very
essence of sin. The apparent inconsistency between individualism
and external conformity was reconciled, in the Puritan mind, by the
concept of “collective individualism” (Perry, 1949: 37). Privacy and
individualism were accorded some degree of respect, therefore, but
only within the context of external discipline and public accoun¬
tability.

Freedom and Equality

The notions of liberty and equality, which were to spark the fires
of revolution a century later, were not alien to Puritan culture,
although both terms were hedged with careful qualifications.
Puritans allowed for Christian liberty and an equality of believers.
“Natural” (i.e., unregenerate) man had no such privileges, as was
evident in Nathaniel Ward’s remark: “All Familists, Antinomians,
Anabaptists and other Enthusiasts shall have liberty to keep away
from us” (Riemer, 1967: 72). Freedom was thus inextricably bound

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to conversion in the Puritan mind. Even the freedom of the believer,
however, was subject to the controlling influence of the “convenant,”
a contract which set out a whole series of obligations governing the
relationships between God and Man and between Man and Man.
God was fully expected to hold up His end of the agreement. The
Puritan interpretation of freedom and equality was visibly shaken
as a result of the Great Awakening, which left in its wake a
pronounced shift toward pietism with its “emotional excesses” and
an anarchistic conception of liberty as “liberty from any laws
whatever.”

The very mention of the popular sociological term “social
inequality” would have produced deep frowns or expressions of
utter bewilderment from the Puritans, who accepted without
question the basic goodness of the social class system as part of the
natural order of Creation. The reality of a social hierarchy in New
England towns was in no way an embarrassment to the Puritans: to
the contrary, heirarchy was incorporated into the ideals of
community-builders. In an excellent historical study of the Puritan
community of Dedham, Massachusetts, Lockridge asserts that
there was nothing in the Puritan understanding of Christian love
which necessarily implies anything like absolute equality. “This
commune,” he wrote, “was not about to practice communism”
(Lockridge, 1970: 11). Residents of Dedham fully accepted the idea
that obedience to men of superior rank was necessary to the
foundation of an orderly society, and that some persons were simply
“fated,” to be incompetents and laggards. They saw no contradic¬
tion, according to Lockridge (1970: 17), between “mutuality to the
point of collectivism and a recognition of a hierarchy of wealth and
status,” since both were seen as inevitable and desirable in the
harmonious functioning of society.

Democracy

Un the subject of democratic government, the Puritans were
much more ambivalent than their authoritarian image would
suggest. If we look at only the official statements of two of their
leading spokesmen, there would seem to be no ambiguity in their
position. John Winthrop, for example, is quoted as saying that “a
democracy is, among most civill nations, accounted the meanest and
worst of all formes of Go vernmt . . . and History does recorde that it
hath been allwayes of least continuance and fullest of troubles”
(Rossiter, 1953: 53) John Cotton added to this: “Democracy, I do not
conceyve that God did ordeyne as a fitt government eyther for
church or commonwealth. If the people be governors, who shall be

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governed?” (Rossiter, 1953: 53). Despite these official protestations,
circumstances over the course of the seventeenth century served to
open the doors to the evolution of democracy as it is popularly
regarded today. In their concern to maintain a pure community,
many Puritans vigorously endorsed freedom from England. Their
desire to maintain religious independence had placed them in the
position of desiring political independence as well.

The government of the Puritan commonwealth could be describ¬
ed as a modified theocracy, though it embodied elements of
monarchy, aristocracy and democracy as well. The agreed-upon
ruler of the commonwealth was God, but He ruled through an
aristocracy— the spiritual elect. His rule, however, needed con¬
stitutional limitations on absolute power, and allowed for certain
constitutional freedoms to increase the number of God’s freemen
and their rights. This in turn led to a dispersion of power. The
oligarchy gradually changed into a near-democracy. As certain
liberal elements in Puritanism (such as congregational church
polity) prevailed at the expense of its more restrictive
characteristics, government “of the people”— including the protec¬
tion of certain basic individual rights— came into being (Riemer,
1967: 75).

Glimpses of Puritan pragmatism are evident in the development
of the congregational church polity during the 1630s, a time when
changes in church organization clearly preceded changes in the
theoretical rationale for such innovations. Replying to inquiries
from their Puritan brethren back in England, who were quite
concerned about this radical change in church organization, leaders
of the Massachusetts Bay Colony simply argued that it “worked,”
and provided descriptions of how it operated. Not until a decade
later, in the 1640s, did any formal ecclesiastical treatises on church
polity begin to appear (Ziff, 1973: 51).

Gaer and Siegel conclude that “even New England’s limited
republicanism allowed greater general participation in church and
political matters than had been possible for centuries in Europe.
For the elect, at least, even theocracy was an assertion of liberty and
democracy” (Gaer and Siegel, 1964: 30).

Deviance and Dissent

The notion of free will, as was mentioned previously, was a
constituent part of the Puritan Mind. The deviant was held fully
accountable for his deviance. Publicly, the Puritans expressed hope
that the deviant, through the chastening experience of harsh

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punishment, would acknowledge and renounce his waywardness. It
appears improbable, however, that such punishment was in any
real sense “reform-oriented.” The criminal was held up to public
view as a bad example, and the harsh treatment accorded him was
mainly intended to prevent the re-appearance of that form of
behavior within the community (Erikson, 1966: 197).

The possibility that any honest differences could exist among the
saints was not seriously entertained by the Puritan fathers. To act in
accordance with one’s conscience was a hallmark of Puritan
thought, but precisely what constituted a valid or authentic “act of
conscience” was invariably defined in terms of “official” Puritan
theology and policy. Any dissent was likely to be seen as an attempt
to shatter the un ity of the body, thus jeopardizing the convenant. Sin
was not simply a form of deviance occurring within the group; it
was seen as a deliberate attack on the very integrity of the group
(Owens, 1974: 17-18). Roger Williams consequently found himself in
the rather curious position of being informed by his Puritan
brethren that the reason they were persecuting him was because he
was acting in violation of his own conscience!

From a Durkheimian perspective, one might argue that New
England Puritanism defined itself by constantly defining deviancy
from it, and therefore it “needed” its quota of sinners. The saint vs.
sinner dichotomy seemed always uppermost in the Puritan mind.
During the seventeenth century more and more groups — both real
and imaginary ones— came to know the opprobrium of Puritan
labeling. Some implications of this behavior are suggested by
Robert Bellah: “When the allegedly sinful group was external to the
society, the dialectic of saint and sinner could fuse with the notions
of chosen people and holy war to justify extraordinary hostility and
aggression against the despised group” (Bellah, 1975: 101).

Racism

A consideration of the history of Puritan-Indian relations seems
germane to the present discussion, because of the intricate ways in
which racial attitudes were linked to virtually all the Puritan
values, and also because of the ways in which racial attitudes serve
to highlight the many tensions and contradictions within those
values. Certainly the history of Puritan racial beliefs carries with it
some distinctively modern overtones. From the beginning, the
Puritans held contradictory images of the Indian. Before em¬
barking on their Atlantic crossing, Puritans had been exposed to
the hostile images of the Indian as circulated by Spanish and

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Portuguese explorers (as “naturally vicious, lazy, inclined toward
bestiality and heathen worship”), but these were countered by
Hakluyt’s description of the Indian as “simple and rude, but by
nature gentle and tractable, and most apt to receive the Christian
religion” (Taylor, 1935; 164).

Another theory growing in popularity at that time held that the
Indians were in fact the descendents of the Lost Tribes of Israel, and
were actually white people whose skin had simply darkened by the
sun. During the first few years of the Puritan settlement, the Indian
was not viewed as an enemy to be driven out, but instead as an
unfortunate heathen in need of saving grace and anglicization.
Indians were, in Puritan eyes, obviously inferior, culturally
speaking, but this defect was remediable.

Problems were to arise, however, as the expansionist goal of the
Puritan community came to the fore. Theologians lent their support
to expansion by reasoning that if the Indians had been intended to
hold this vast land all for themselves, why would God have shown
the English the way to the New World? After the smallpox epidemic
in 1633, which claimed the lives of several thousand Indians,
Winthrop surmised that God must be clearing the way for the
Puritan occupation (Vaughan, 1965: 104). In addition, Puritans
began interpreting their Bible to mean that only if Man subdues the
land through agriculture does he have the right to legitimate
possession of the land (Owens, 1974: 179).

Puritan-Indian relations deteriorated during the 1630s. The
mounting economic interests of the Puritans seem to have led to
situations in which the Indians were given little choice but to react
with violence. This in turn activated the “self-fulfilling prophecy”
by reinforcing the distinctly unfavorable image of the Indian in the
Puritan mind. By 1659, Puritans were identifying the Indians
unequivocally as Satanists. In fact, as Owens observes, “the Indian
could now be used as a standard against which Puritans could
measure other groups suspected of being in league with the Devil”
(Owens, 1974: 128). Besides the pressures felt from the increasing
land interests of the Puritans, the Indians also came to feel — at least
indirectly— the effects of an internal religious problem within the
Puritan community. This was the problem of “declension.”

It is perhaps unfortunate that the New England Puritans did not
have a Max Weber in their midst to warn them of what to expect
during the transformation from sect to church. For having become
established on Massachusetts soil, the Puritans were no longer the

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persecuted minority, but the reigning majority. Their preachers,
Hall writes, “who had whetted their fiery preaching on targets that
the Church of England had to offer, underwent an agonizing
adjustment to a new life style” (Hall, 1970: 342). There were also
some inherent conflicts in their dual mission to create (a) a moral
covenanted community, and (b) a genuinely reformed church
within this community (Pope, 1969: 261). The numerous social
functions of Puritan churches served to draw them into the
community, whereas the stress on pietism and “visible sainthood”
served to separate church and community.

The tide of declension was strong. Spontaneity was lost, piety
became formalized, charisma became routinized, and visionaries
became organizers. It was simply not possible for Puritan children
to recapture the vivid religious experiences of their elders, whose
identities had been forged by continual assault upon enemies the
children could not know. In a furious counter-attack on what the
Puritan divines believed to be the work of Satan in their midst, the
churches shook with Jeremiad sermons, consisting of lamentations,
desperate calls for repentance, and predictions of impending doom.

As the Puritan leaders bemoaned the continued declension in
their ranks, they seem to have resorted to the now-familiar tactic of
“scapegoating.” The Indian, predictably enough, was selected for
the role of scapegoat. As an external, highly visible, relatively
powerless and already unpopular group, Indians came to bear
much of the brunt of the collective failings and frustrations of the
commonwealth. After the Puritans had clearly identified their
scapegoat, the implication was both simple and urgent: destroy that
enemy and things will return to normal. Perceiving the Indian as
one of the “shapes of the devil,” to use Erikson’s phrase, represented
an attempt to regain Puritan group solidarity and to strengthen a
rather shaky identity.

By 1675, Cotton Mather and other Puritan writers were referring
to Puritan-Indian conflicts in genuinely racial terms—i.e., as a
confrontation between White and Red. It was not that the situation
had developed into a purely racial confrontation, however. The
Indian was simply one among many despised classes of deviants,
including Quakers, witches, Papists and such “wayward Puritans”
as Roger Williams and Anne Hutchinson. No longer was there any
talk about Indians as a lost tribe of Israel: they were now seen as
Philistines, and therefore as arch-enemies of God’s New Israel. By
the 1690s, the Indian came to assume great psychological

1978]

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importance for the Puritan. For, as Nash and Weiss point out, the
failure to control the Indian “would mean the loss of control over
one’s new environment, and ultimately, of oneself” (Nash and Weiss,
1970: 8).

Three hundred years have passed since the Puritan experiment
but only recently have Americans begun to ponder the criminality
of their treatment of Indians. Why has it taken so long? The answer,
according to Bellah, “lies in the ambiguities of chosenness. There
are similarities between John Winthrop and John Foster Dulles’
easy identification of the free world with those nations willing to do
the bidding of the American government” (Bellah, 1975: 37).

PURITANISM AND THE AMERICAN VALUE SYSTEM

One of the most consequential ideas within the entire American
cultural tradition is what has come to be called Manifest Destiny.
The roots of this doctrine are deeply embedded in Puritan thought.
No society was ever more convinced of being God’s elect than were
the New England Puritans. As saints in covenant with God, their
identity was supported by the unshakable conviction that history
was moving rapidly toward the establishment of God’s Kingdom,
and that they were to be His agents who would usher it in. This
belief, I suspect, functioned to anesthetize the Puritan Mind— and
later the American Mind— to any sensitivity to value inconsisten¬
cies.

The history of religious interpretations of American destiny has
been thoroughly documented by such scholars as Conrad Cherry,
Sydney Ahlstrom and Sidney Mead, to cite only a few. Cherry, for
example, has traced the idea of a divinely-sanctioned American
destiny through Puritanism, the Great Awakening, the birth of the
American Republic, the westward expansion, the Civil War, the
Spanish-American War and the Philippine acquisition, the massive
industrialization and immigration of the late nineteenth century,
World War I and II (as well as the “limited” wars that followed), the
struggle of minority groups for equal rights, and the whole
“communitarian impulse”— a movement which has a long and rich
history of its own in this country (Cherry, 1971). Manifest destiny
has been subject to varying definitions and varying degrees of
popularity throughout American history. It seemed to reach apeak
of intensity in the latter part of the nineteenth century, at least
among “mainstream” Protestants. For that segment of America’s

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populace, Ahlstrom contends, “a denial of America’s manifest
destiny bordered on treason” (Ahlstrom, 1972: 845).

Puritanism in its original form was not to survive long. Perhaps
this utopian experiment, demanding such absolute commitment
and unswerving conformity, and riddled with so many internal
tensions and logical inconsistencies, was doomed from the start.
Kammen has noted that the Puritans shared with other colonial
societies a strong tendency toward value contradictions, since such
societies are inheritors of old inconsistencies as well as creators of
new ones (Kammen, 1973: 20-26). English society in Puritan times
was torn by internal conflicts, such as Catholic vs. Protestant, Mary
vs. Elizabeth, and other tensions related to an age of colonization.
These were compounded, in the case of the Puritans, by the
uprooting influences of movement, migration and mobility —
Pierson’s “M-Factor” (Pierson, 1962). Such influences are con¬
ducive to social and cultural change by forcing accommodation,
hence increasing the likelihood of conflict, compromise and
modification of values. It would be naive to maintain (as some have)
that such influences have some innate power to “cause” certain
types of social values to emerge inevitably. “Wilderness” and
“frontier” are really cultural constructs which are amenable to a
remarkably diverse variety of definitions and resultant behavior.

The survival of Puritanism as a viable tradition may be accounted
for by its robust ideological offspring, who oftentimes resemble
their parent very little, and each other even less! Fundamentalistic
revivalism, rationalism, enlightenment philosophy, transcenden¬
talism, the social gospel, rugged individualism and
communitarianism can all legitimately trace their ancestry back to
Puritanism. Its pervasive influence can be explained not only by its
“primacy,” its idealism and its aggressiveness, but also by its
extraordinarily literate and educated tradition, which sent out its
roots in the form of a vast and rich literature. Motived by the
conviction that reason and faith are natural allies, Puritans founded
Harvard University in 1636 for the express purpose of providing
their prophets with the best available education in the sciences and
humanities.

A great many “heroes” of American history, each in his/her own
way, played some part in the Americanization of Puritanism. If any
one of them could be singled out as having been the key link
connecting Puritanism with modern American culture, there
would be no better candidate than Benjamin Franklin. His famous

1978]

Berg — A Legacy of Paradox

279

autobiography has been described as “the record of what Puritan
habits detached from Puritan beliefs were capable of achieving in
the eighteenth-century world of affairs. The diary technique of soul-
searching for signs of the presence of grace was adapted to a review
of the day’s external accomplishments, and the boundless belief in
salvation through fellowship in a community of the saved adapted to
schemes of social betterment through association” (Ziff, 1973: 218).
Franklin said, in effect, that if one wishes to succeed, he must hold to
the classic Puritan values as the necessary means to achievement.
Qualities like temperance, frugality, resolve, industry, justice and
sincerity are— -to put it bluntly— “useful.” Franklin could be
described as an eighteenth-century man of affairs as well as a
Puritan in his austere moralism— even though he found Calvinistic
theology distasteful. Schneider sees Franklin and Jonathan
Edwards as representing the two opposite poles of Puritan thought:
“It was Edwards who attempted to induce New England to lead a
godly, not a sober, life; it was Franklin who succeeded in teaching
Americans to lead a sober and not a godly life . . . .” (Schneider,
1969- 153). To employ Rokeach’s constructs Franklin could be said
to have laid heavy emphasis upon the instrumental , not the
terminal , values of Puritanism, thus furthering the cause of
pragmatism in American culture. Despite Franklin’s unique and
enormously influential interpretation of Puritan values,
Puritanism’s influence in America was not restricted to sure-fire
formulae for worldly success. “Puritanism had become a reflex way
of perceiving reality: of how to engage in social intercourse,
interpret the implications of daily events with a disciplined
conscience, and retain a consciousness of one’s own identity as an
individual and as a member of a people” (Ziff, 1973: 218-19).

Can the modern American value inconsistencies— freedom,
individualism and equality on the one hand, with racism, group-
superiority themes and external conformity on the other— really be
traced back to similar inconsistencies in Puritanism? The
similarities are striking. Puritans valued freedom, individualism
and equality— with qualifications, of course. As understood within
the context of their whole ideology and culture these values were by
no means “unpuritan.” Similarly, modern Americans hedge these
same values with elaborate sets of customs, taboos, rules and
qualifications. It is widely accepted by modern Americans that
individuals are “equally” individual— that persons ought to be
judged on the basis of their achievements or failures as individuals.
Members of minority groups are not exempt from the demands of

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

individualism. “After all,” the saying goes, “should minority groups
be treated any differently from anyone else? Why should a person
blame anybody but himself for his own failures?” It is true that
Americans overwhelmingly reject theories which speak of the
innate biological superiority or inferiority of racial groups. Yet all
too frequently one hears questions like: “Isn’t it too bad that blacks,
Indians or Chicanos don’t have the motivation to get ahead?” “Why
don’t they want to be more like us?” “Why don’t those foreigners just
accept our superiority and model themselves after us?” “Why are
they so ungrateful when we try to help them?”

These are very modern American questions indeed— but they
have an unmistakably Puritanical ring.

REFERENCES CITED

Ahlstrom, Sydney E. 1972. A Religious History of the American People. Yale
University Press, New Haven.

Bellah, Robert N. 1975. The Broken Covenant Alfred A. Knopf, New York.

Berg, Philip L. 1975. “Racism and the Puritan Mind." Phylon, 36: 1-8.

Cherry, Conrad. 1971. God’s New Israel: Religious Interpretations of American
Destiny. Prentice-Hall, Englewood, Cliffs, N. J.

Erikson, Kai T. 1966. Wayward Puritans: A Study in the Sociology of Deviance. John
Wiley and Sons, New York.

Gaer, Joseph and Ben Siegel. 1964. The Puritan Heritage: American Roots in the
Bible. New American Library, New York.

Hall, David D. 1970. “Understanding the Puritans,” in H. J. Bass, ed., The Shape of
American History. Quadrangle, Chicago.

Kammen, Michael. 1973. People of Paradox: An Inquiry Concerning the Origins of
American Civilization. Vintage Books, New York.

Lockridge, Kenneth. 1970. New England Town: The First Hundred Years , Dedham,
Massachusetts, 1636-1736. Norton, New York.

McGiffert, Michael, ed. 1969. Puritansim and the American Experience. Addison-
Wesley, Reading, Mass.

McLoughlin, William and Robert Bellah, eds. Religion in America, 1968. Beacon
Press, Boston.

Means, Richard. 1970. The Ethical Imperative: The Crisis in American Values
Doubleday, New York.

1978]

Berg — A Legacy of Paradox

281

Miller, Perry, and Thomas Johnson. 1963. The Puritans: Sourcebook of Their
Writings. Vol. I. Harper and Row, New York.

Miller, Perry. 1969. “The Puritan State and Puritan Society, ” in Michael McGiffert,
ed., Puritanism and the American Experience. Addison-Wesley, Reading, Mass.

Nash, Gary B. and Richard Weiss. 1970. The Great Fear : Race in the Mind of
America. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York.

Owens, Dennis. 1974. Satan’s Fiery Darts: Explorations in the Experience and
Concept of the Demonic in Seventeenth Century England. Unpublished doctoral
dissertation. Princeton University, Princeton, N. J.

Perry, Ralph Barton. 1949. Characteristically American. Alfred A. Knopf, New
York.

Pierson, George, W. 1962. “The M-Factor in American History.” The American
Quarterly, XIV, pt. 2: 275-89.

Pope, Robert G. 1969. The Halfway Covenant: Puritan Church Mambership in New
England. Princeton Press, Princeton, N. J.

Riemer, Neal. 1967. The Democratic Experiment: American Political Theory. Vol. I.
D. Van Nostrand, Princeton, N. J.

Rokeach, Milton. 1973. The Nature of Human Values. Free Press, New York.

Rossiter, Clinton. 1953. Seedtime of the Republic: The Origins of the American
Tradition of Political Liberty. Harcourt, Brace, New York.

Schneider, Herbert W. 1969. “Ungodly Puritans,” in Michael McGiffert, ed.,
Puritamism and the American Experience. Addison-Wesley, Reading, Mass.

Simpson, Alan, 1955. Puritanism in Old and New England. University of Chicago
Press, Chicago.

Taylor, E.G.R. 1935. The Original Writings and Correspondence of the Two Richard
Hakluyts. London.

Vaughan, Alden. 1965. New England Frontier: Puritans and Indians, 1620-1675.
Little, Brown and Co., Boston.

Warner, R. Stephen. 1976. Review of Milton Rokeach, Nature of Human Values, in
Contemporary Sociology: A Journal of Reviews, V: 13-16.

Williams, Robin. 1963. American Society. Alfred A. Knopf, New York.

Ziff, Larzer. 1973. Puritanism in America: New Culture in an New World. Viking
Press, New York.

PREDICTION OF BLOOM
IN WOODY PLANTS

Glenn Herold and E. R. Hasselkus

University of Wisconsin- Madison

INTRODUCTION

The science of phenology is concerned with
the timing of natural events in plants and
animals and the relationship of these events
to the calendar, weather and climate. Phenological events include
the emergence of a particular insect, the appearance of the first
robin or earthworm or the first bloom of the lilac. Any natural
recurring phenomenon could be recorded as a phenological event.

For each of the last fifteen years the blooming dates of trees and
shrubs in the University of Wisconsin-Madison Arboretum and
campus have been recorded by a selected student in Horticulture
264 -Landscape Plants. The senior author made and recorded these
observations during the spring of 1977.

The year 1977 was unusual when compared to the previous
fourteen years. After a cold dry winter, temperatures increased
dramatically in early spring and plants set records for earliness of
bloom (within the last fourteen years). Early blooming continued
through May and June, confirming the results of previous
investigations that the spring flowering of trees and shrubs is
dependent on the accumulation of a certain number of temperature
units. These units, termed degree days, were calculated from
temperature records.

This paper is an analysis of the blooming records and their
relationship to the temperature prior to bloom. The feasibility of
predicting time of bloom was investigated as was the practical use
of such predictions by the home landscaper.

METHODS

Field

A flowering tree or shrub was considered “in bloom” when the
observer determined that 50% of the flowers were completely open.
In plants without showy flowers, the bloom date was determined as
the date when the anthers released a small cloud of pollen at a slight
touch of the branch. Examples of such plants are Corylus
americana (American Filbert) and Betula papyrifera (Paper
Birch).

282

1978]

Her old & Hasselkus — Prediction of Bloom

283

Data Compilation

The number of calendar year days to bloom (i.e. from January 1)
was determined from the bloom dates, and the mean was compiled
by summing the days per year and dividing by the number of years
for which there were data. The number of degree days (DD) and
modified degree days (MDD) to bloom was determined using
temperature data from the National Weather Service at Truax
Field in Madison. Degree days were obtained by summing for each
calendar day the excess of the mean daily temperature above a
threshold value. Forty degrees F. was used as the threshold value
and March 1 was used as the starting point for determining degree
days. In determining the number of modified degree days the low
temperature is always considered 50° F. (when the high
temperature exceeds this amount), and the high temperature is
considered 86°F. when the actual temperature exceeds this value.
The mean between the high temperature (86°F. maximum) and the
low (or 50°F., whichever is higher) minus 50°F. gives the number of
modified degree days. Table 1 lists the plants used in this study, the
mean number of year days, DD and MDD to bloom and the number
of years on which the data are based.

Sources of Error

The blooming dates used in this study were collected over a fifteen
year period; data for each year were collected by a different student.
This has no doubt led to some degree of error. Since the same plant
was not specified for observation, it is possible that a different tree
or shrub could have been observed in each of the fifteen years.
Genetic difference alone could account for a slight difference in
bloom date (as in the case of Acer plantanoides cultivars), but
hybridization in some species could account for major differences,
as is the case for Acer saccharinum and Crataegus mollis. Age of the
plant may also be a factor. Nienstaedt (1974) observed that buds
open later as the tree matures. Of greater significance, though, is
the temperature difference created by microclimate. While most of
the data were collected from the UW-Madison Arboretum, some
data were collected on campus and in the city, where microclimates
created by buildings could produce great differences in develop¬
ment of flower buds. The senior author observed that Buxus
microphylla koreana (Korean Littleleaf Box) bloomed on April 3
next to a campus building but did not reach anthesis until April 10
in the arboretum. Similar observations were made on other species.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

TABLE 1. Mean year days, degree days and modified degree days of tree and
shrub species based on the 15-year study.

Year Days Degree Days Modified Degree Years of
Plant to bloom to bloom Days to bloom record

Acer ginnala

142.9

641.1

28.8

11

Acer rubrum

99.8

93.2

67.7

13

Acer saccharinum

89.3

46.3

36.8

12

Acer saccharum

114.5

271.6

194.3

8

Aesculus hippocastanum

137.9

543.9

366.0

10

Amelanchier arborea

119.9

294.9

205.6

13

Berberis thunbergii

128.5

399.1

274.1

10

Betula papyrifera

112.5

240.3

173.1

10

Cercis canadensis

125.4

371.5

253.4

13

Comus alternifolia

145.5

669.6

447.6

11

Comus mas

104.3

162.5

120.2

13

Corylus americana

943.1

59.7

42.0

10

Cotoneaster multiflorus

138.1

555.8

375.0

10

Crataegus crus-galli

149.8

760.5

507.5

8

Crataegus mollis

130.5

432.8

295.6

11

Diervilla lonicera

161.5

1026.0

683.2

6

Euonymus alata

141.0

591.1

398.0

9

Forsythia x intermedia

109.0

163.7

116.5

10

Forsythia ovata

102.1

115.7

86.7

14

Forsythia suspensa

110.3

179.9

131.3

12

Lonicera tatarica

131.4

456.6

316.6

9

Magnolia x soulangiana

113.7

236.4

169.9

11

Magnolia stellata

Malus baccata

110.3

180.1

131.9

14

mandshurica

125.5

365.0

248.4

12

Malus ioensis

133.2

506.7

346.0

10

Prunus americana

120.3

304.0

212.6

12

Prunus serotina

138.7

571.0

389.6

9

Prunus tomentosa

112.0

193.3

141.4

14

Prunus triloba

122.5

327.8

218.6

12

Ribes alpinum

115.2

244.8

177.3

13

Robinia pseudoacacia

148.2

801.7

527.8

9

Rosa hugonis

137.0

545.5

366.3

12

Rosa rugosa

154.4

870.1

572.3

8

Sambucus canadensis

177.7

1509.3

1013.2

6

Sorbus aucuparia

135.0

553.8

372.3

8

Spiraea thunbergii

114.6

231.6

166.8

13

Spiraea x vanhouttei

140.1

589.3

393.6

12

Viburnum carlesii

122.4

328.6

230.0

14

Viburnum lantana

131.2

452.7

307.7

13

Viburnum lentago

141.3

609.8

408.1

12

Viburnum prunifolium

137.8

552.9

371.9

12

Viburnum rafinesquianum

147.5

724.3

481.7

12

Viburnum trilobum

146.1

706.8

471.2

10

1978]

Herold & Hasselkus — Prediction of Bloom

285

Another source of error is the difficulty and subjectivity in
determining when the plant has actually reached 50% bloom. Ribes
alpinum (Alpine Currant), Larix decidua (European Larch),
Chaenomeles japonica (Japanese Floweringquince), Rhus
aromatica (Fragrant Sumac) and others were especially difficult to
determine, and hence most of these were eliminated from
evaluation for this paper ( Ribes alpinum being the exception).
Other species, like Cornus mas (Corneliancherry Dogwood) and
Magnolia x soulangiana (Saucer Magnolia) have unreliable bloom
due to winter injury and late spring frosts, thus making it difficult
to determine when they are at 50% bloom. This subjective
interpretation could account for three to four days difference in
bloom date or up to 100 degree days error in the case of later
blooming species. The fact that different persons have taken the
data over the years makes errors from this source probable.

The minimum threshold temperature upon which the calculation
of degree days to bloom is based varies with different plants. The
minimum temperatures required for development according to
Chang (1968) are 40° for peas, 50° for corn and 55° for citrus fruit,
Syringa vulgaris (Common Lilac) initiates growth in spring when
the mean daily temperature reaches about 31°F. (Caprio, 1974).
Since this threshold varies among plants of different species, the
degree day concept for predicting bloom should be based on
threshold temperature for each species. The 40°F. threshold
temperature used in this study probably is too high for some plants,
particularly the early blooming species but may be too low for the
later developing species.

Most researchers agree that temperature is of major importance
in the flower development of plants, but many note that this factor
may be overemphasized. Chang (1968) said that too much weight is
given to the high temperature and not enough to the minimum
temperature. Bassett et al (1961) believe that in some cases the
minimum temperature is more closely related to developmental
rate. Lindsey and Newman (1956) pointed out that the mean
temperature may be misleading because it fails to take temperature
duration into account.

Other factors which may account for the flowering date of plants
are sunlight, solar radiation, wind, moisture, light duration,
diurnal temperature fluctuations and soil temperature. Caprio
(1974) placed major emphasis on sunshine. He said that more
degree days are required to bloom in areas with less spring

286

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

sunshine. His solar thermal unit theory states that the number of
degree days to bring lilacs to bloom is inversely related to the
amount of solar radiation.

No doubt these factors are interrelated, and controlled ex¬
periments would be required to determine the requirements of each
individual species. Within the scope of this study, and the purposes
for which it is intended, we can consider temperature to be a major
factor contributing to the flowering of trees and shrubs and assume
that 40°F. is a useful threshold temperature.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

Effect Of Temperature On Date Of Bloom

There is a direct relationship between the weather in a given
spring and the earliness or lateness of plant development. Species
which on the average bloom about the same time seem to be affected
to the same degree. Magnolia stellata (Star Magnolia), Forsythia
suspensa (Weeping Forsythia), Prunus tomentosa (Manchu Cherry)
and Forsythia x intermedia (Border Forsythia) all have an average
bloom date of about April 20 in the Madison area (Fig. 1). The
deviation from the mean date of bloom follows the same pattern over
the fourteen year period.

It is believed that the accumulation of a certain number of degree
days is a major contributor to reaching anthesis. An almost linear
relationship is shown between average degree days to bloom and
number of days to bloom (Fig. 2). This relationship does not seem to
apply in early spring or late in the blooming season, when year days
lag behind degree days. Early blooming species may have a lower
threshold temperature which would account for the early season
discrepancy. The difference in temperature between the Truax
Field weather station and the UW-Madison Arboretum in early
spring may also affect the linear relationship. Late in the season the
number of degree day accumulation per day is much greater than
early. Perhaps there is a maximum critical temperature above
which plant development is suppressed. Degree days would
continue to accumulate rapidly, but plants would not develop at a
similar rate. Those plants blooming between April 19 and May 25
seem to have a direct relationship between year days to bloom and
degree day accumulation. This is further shown by the almost
parallel curves of degree days to bloom and calendar days to bloom
between days 109 (April 19) and 145 (May 25) (Fig. 3). After May 25,
degree day accumulation is more rapid than plant development.

MEAN DEGREE DAYS TO BLOOM YEAR DAYS TO BLOOM

1978] Her old & Hasselkus— Prediction of Bloom 287

YEAR

FIGURE 1. Number of days to bloom for plants of similar mean bloom date

Plant Key: X - X Magnolia Stellata

0 _ 0 Forsythia suspensa

□ . □ Prunus tomentosa

- Forsythia x intermedia

288

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

This may have been the case in 1977 when many of the later
blooming plants showed a much higher number of degree days to
bloom than the average. Plant development could not keep pace
with the rate of temperature increase in the unusually warm
spring.

FIGURE 3. Mean number of degree days and days to bloom.

Predicting Date Of Bloom

The uncertainty of Wisconsin spring weather and degree day
accumulation rate makes it extremely difficult to predict when a
certain tree or shrub will bloom. Some species are more predictable
than others, based on degree days to bloom. The average of degree
days to bloom through 1976 was calculated for all species used in
this study, and their bloom dates predicted for 1977 based on degree
day accumulation. The more predictable species tend to be plants
which normally bloom in late April through mid May (Table 2). The
more unpredictable species in general are earlier bloomers which
are influenced by prolonged winters, late frosts and other factors
which may delay or virtually eliminate bloom (Table 3). Diervilla

1978]

Her old & Hasselkus — Prediction of Bloom

289

TABLE 2. Plants that had predictable bloom in 1977 based on the mean degree
days for all years through 1976.

Bloom date

1977 Bloom

Plant

Mean degree days

prediction based on date

through 1976

1977 degree days

Acer saccharum

271.6

April 14

April 15

Betula papyrifera

240.3

April 12

April 13

Forsythia x intermedia

163.7

April 8

April 12

Forsythia ovata

115.7

March 28

April 1

Forsythia suspensa

Malus baccata

179.9

April 10

April 11

mandshurica

365.0

April 18

April 19

Prunus tomentosa

193.3

April 11

April 13

Sorbus aucuparia

553.8

May 1

Mayl

Viburnum rafinesquianum

724.3

May 12

May 13

TABLE 3. Plants which had unpredictable bloom in 1977 based on the mean
degree days for all years through 1976.

Plant

Mean degree days
through 1976

Bloom date 1977 Bloom

prediction based on date

1977 degree days

Acer rubrum

93.2

March 26

April 10

Chaenomeles japonica

273.4

April 14

April 20

Comus mas

162.5

March 30

April 19

Corylus americana

59.7

March 12

April 3

Crataegus mollis

432.8

April 20

April 28

Diervilla lonicera

1026.0

May 18

June 10

Magnolia x soulangiana

236.4

April 12

April 21

Ulmus americana

71.5

March 15

March 29

lonicera (Dwarf Bushhoneysuckle), one of the latest blooming
species used in this study, is an exception. The bloom of this plant
may be day-length dependent, rather than temperature dependent,
since all recorded bloom dates fall within twelve days, and the
standard deviation is only 4.1 days.

Since it is impossible to predict how many degree days will
accumulate by a given calendar day, predicting full bloom in trees
and shrubs cannot be based on the accumulation of degree days
alone. With careful recording of degree day accumulation, one can
predict that bloom is imminent, but long range prediction is
impossible.

CORRELATION COEFFICIENT

290

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

By noting the bloom date of an early blooming species, one may
get a fair indication of when later blooming species will reach
anthesis. This is especially true for species which normally bloom
within a short time after the observed species. The correlation
between the bloom dates of different species decreases as the time
between the mean bloom dates increases, due to the unpredictabili¬
ty of the weather during this time. The correlation of bloom dates
was calculated between Forsythia ovata( Early Forsythia) and nine
other species over a ten year period to illustrate this point (Fig. 4).
Acer rubrum (Red Maple) and Cornus mas (Corneliancherry
Dogwood) both have mean bloom dates within four days of
Forsythia ovata and have correlation coefficients of 0.85 and 0.87,
respectively, while Spiraea x vanhouttei (Vanhoutte Spirea) which
blooms over a month after Forsythia ovata has a correlation
coefficient of only 0.431 Perfect correlation is represented by a value
of 1.00; 0.70 indicates a good correlation, whereas 0.30 is on the
threshold of significance. To a degree, one can be reasonably
accurate in noting the bloom of one plant and predicting the bloom
of another based on the difference of their average days to bloom
As mentioned earlier, later blooming species tend to be more
predictable than earlier blooming species. Earlier species face
inconsistent weather and other variable factors. A heavy frost may
delay or destroy imminent bloom.

YEAR DAYS TO BLOOM

FIGURE 4. Relationship of bloom of various species to the bloom of Forsythia
ovata. Based on 10 years of data (1966-1973, 1976-1977)

SD/MEAN DD X 100 ^ STANDARD DEVIATION

1978]

Herold & Hasselkus — Prediction of Bloom

291

In the spring of 1977 a heavy freeze occurred on May 9 and
destroyed the bloom of Weigela sp. and Deutzia x lemoinei.

The fact that later blooming species are more predictable is
supported by the decrease in standard deviation (SD)2 as days
bloom increase (Fig. 5). Early blooming species have an SD of 10
12 whereas most of the later blooming species have an SD falling
between 6.5 and 8.5. Similarly, the percent standard deviation of
the mean decreases as the mean degree days increase (Fig. 6).

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

i i l _ i i i l l i i l l I i i I _ 1 _ i i i

85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 175 180

YEAR DAYS TO BLOOM (MEAN)

IGURE 5.

Standard deviation and mean number of days to bloom for the plants
listed on Table 1.

70

60

50

40

J J 1 . - . J i L I l I I I I I I I

100 200 300 400 500 600 700 800 900 1000 1100 1200 1300 1400 1500

DEGREE DAYS TO BLOOM (MEAN)

FIGURE 6. Relatwnship between mean degree days to bloom and standard
deviation as a per cent of the degree days to bloom.

a a

292

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS

Although the flowers of most trees and shrubs are shortlived if the
temperature is high, as was the case in 1977, most home landscapers
select plants on the basis of their flower display. Often little thought
is given to color coordination of the various elements in the
landscape setting. If the landscaper knew the color of the flowers of
various plants and when they would bloom, he could be much more
innovative in his landscape planting design.

Knowing the blooming sequence allows the landscaper to design a
garden with continuous bloom and appropriate color coordination.
He can plan the landscape with plants to begin blooming in early
April (or earlier in a warm spring) and to last until fall, if roses,
Potentilla fruticosa, and Hammamelis virginiana (Common
Witchhazel) are used. If the blooming times and flower colors of
annuals and perennials are known, these can also be used to blend
with the flowers of woody plants. Thus, whereas most trees and
shrubs bloom in spring, proper plant selection can result in summer
and autumn bloom as well.

By knowing when plants will bloom, one can also choose those
species which have more reliable bloom year after year. Plants
which bloom late in the spring often avoid the late season frosts so
common in Wisconsin.

In species which bloom in early spring, flowering is often the first
sign that the plant is breaking dormancy. Daubenmire (1959)
suggested that this may be useful in determining when a species
should be transplanted. By keeping a record of degree day
accumulation, a nurseryman or landscape contractor may be able to
determine the optimal time to plant new stock or transplant
established stock.

Despite the inconsistency of Wisconsin springs, most plants
bloom regularly and the sequence of blooming is predictable. This
information will allow landscape architects and homeowners to be
more creative in developing landscape planting schemes which will
exhibit color throughout the year.

1978]

Herold & Hasselkus — Prediction of Bloom

293

NOTATIONS

Correlation coefficient (r) = £ (x ; - x) (y j - y) /Vx(x j - xpV£(y j -y)2

= the sum of the products of the differences between
yearly date and mean date, divided by the product of
the square roots of the summed squares of the
differences.

Standard deviation (SD) (x ; - x)2 /n - 1

= a measure of scatter of spread in a series of observations

LITERATURE CITED

Bassett, I. J., R. M. Holmes and K. H. MacKay. 1961. Phenology of several plant
species in Ottawa, Ontario and an examination of the influence of air
temperature. Canadian Journal Plant Science 41:643-652.

Caprio, J. M. 1974. The solar thermal unit concept in problems related to plant
development and potential evapotranspiration. In H. Lieth (Ed.) Phenology and
Seasonality Modelling. Springer Publishing Co., Berlin, Heidelberg, New York.
444 pp.

Chang, J. H. 1968. Climate and Agriculture, an ecological survey with extensive
references. Aldin Publishing Co., Chicago, Illinois.

Daubenmire, R. F. 1959. Plants and Environment. John Wiley and Sons, New York.

Lindsey, A. A. and J. E. Newman. 1956. Use of official weather data in springtime
temperature analysis of an Indiana phenological record. Ecology 37:812-823.

Nienstaedt, H. 1974. Genetic variations in some phenological characteristics of forest
trees. In H. Lieth (Ed.) Phenology and Seasonality Modelling. Springer
Publishing, Berlin, Heidelberg, New York. 444 pp.

SQUIRRELS ON THE HOWARD
POTTER RESEARCH AREA

Chris Madson

University of Wisconsin-Madison
ABSTRACT

The average home range estimated for 21
gray squirrels was 2 acres (0.9 ha). Over half
the marked population dispersed beyond
the study area; in 1973 dispersal began in August and extended
through January, 1974. In 1974 and 1975, dispersal began in March.
This early spring dispersal may have been triggered by poor mast
carry-over from the previous fall. Three patterns of daily activity
emerged during the study. The first was a summer pattern with two
peaks, one from 2 to 5 hours after sunrise, and another from 1 to 3
hours before sunset. The autumn activity pattern showed few
diurnal fluctuations; gray squirrels were equally active through
most of the day during September, October, and November. Winter
activity peaked at midday. Weather conditions that had the greatest
inhibiting effect on gray squirrel activity were high summer
temperatures and spring precipitation. Cloud cover stimulated
winter activity. Indices to gray squirrel abundance on three Potter
Area study grids showed squirrel density to be lowest on Trap Area
III where oaks produced fewer acorns than the same species on the
other grids. Red, gray, and fox squirrels occupied all trap areas.
Red squirrels were the least common of the three species but most
common on Trap Area I. The fox squirrel was least common on this
area. Competition between these two species may have limited local
fox squirrel densities. Only six agonistic encounters among the
three species were observed during the study. In these encounters,
the red squirrel was most aggressive and the fox squirrel least
aggressive.

The Potter Research Area is a 400-acre (162 ha) tract on the
southern ridge of the Baraboo Range in Sauk county, south-central
Wisconsin (Fig. 1). Itwas obtained by the University of Wisconsin in
1969. The area has two major soil types, Pecatonica silty loam, a
light-colored forest soil lying on weathered glacial till, and Baraboo

294

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

295

silty loam, a similar forest soil containing some quartzite outcrops
from 2 (61 cm) to 8 feet (244 cm) high, lying on the northern and
southwestern borders of the area.

Red Oak (Quercus ruhrum) is the dominant tree species in the 263
acres (106 ha) of woodland. Other common tree species include red
maple (Acer rubrum), white oak (Q. alba), and occasionally sugar
maple (A. saccharum) and big-toothed aspen (Populus grandiden-
tata). There is a 12-acre (5.0 ha) apple orchard on the eastern side of
the area and 69 acres (27.9 ha) of crop land in the center. When the
study began, these fields supported an extensive stand of brome
grass (Bromus sp.). The northeastern quarter of the fields was
planted to corn in May 1974. The two western fields were plowed for
corn in May 1975.

The objective of the squirrel research on the Potter area was to
gain additional insight into the timing, magnitude, and cause of
gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) movements in southern
Wisconsin. The relation of gray squirrel density to woodlot mast
production was also investigated.

Effort was concentrated in three woodlots. The first, Trap Area I,
was a 12-acre (5.0 ha) plot in the ravine of an intermittent stream in
the southwest corner of the preserve. Roughly half of this grid was
on a south-facing slope; the other half faced north or was relatively
flat. This woodlot contained the greatest variety of tree species of
the three woodlots. The understory varied from a dense layer of

Figure 1. Potter Research Area.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

shrubs and saplings on the north-facing slope to a sparse shrub
layer with sedge ground cover on the more xeric south-facing slope.

Trap Area II was a 12-acre (5.0 ha) tract on a north-facing slope
north of the agricultural fields. Red oaks on this grid were slightly
larger than those on Area I (Table 1). White oaks were less common
on Area II than on either Areas I or III, but they were generally
larger. Red maple was common but occurred primarily as an
understory species. Several species of Cornus were also common in
the understory.

Trap Area III covered 11 acres (4.5 ha) along RinglingCreek just
west of the orchard and lay chiefly on west-facing slope. The timber
was mixed red oak, white oak, red maple, sugar maple, and big¬
toothed aspen. The understory had scattered stands of young red
and sugar maple saplings, separated by large open areas with a
grass and sedge ground cover. The shaded ground was covered with
leaf litter and an assortment of herbaceous species.

METHODS AND MATERIALS

Trapping and marking of squirrels began in March 1973 on Area
I, in May on Area II, and in June on Area III. The traps used were 9
inches (23 cm) x 9 inches (23 cm) x 32 inches (81 cm) National Live
Traps which were placed 50 yards (46 m) apart. They were
arranged in rectangular networks with 26 traps on Area I, 30 on
Area II, and 28 on Area III.

Four marking methods were used during the study: dye marking,
tail trimming, toe clipping, and collaring. The effectiveness of the
Nyanzol D dye varied and dye marks on the body were lost twice a
year as seasonal pelage was molted. Collars were lost at an unknown
rate and were difficult to put on the squirrel in the field. Two gray
squirrels died while they were being collared, and four others
showed signs of moderate shock. Because of these difficulties, dye
marking and collaring were abandoned and all squirrels were
marked with a toe clip and tail clip pattern. The toe clip provided a
permanent mark, while the tail pattern allowed an observer to
distinguish between marked and unmarked squirrels at a distance.
The tail clip code did not identify the individual (there were not
enough possible patterns), but it did provide a common mark for all
individuals captured on the same grid. This grid code made it
possible to detect movements of marked squirrels between grids.

To gain access to juveniles prior to weaning, 29 nest boxes were
installed on the three grids. Barkalow (pers. comm.) and Bakken

1978]

Madson— Squirrels on Research Area

297

(1952) have stated that juvenile gray squirrels can be identified by
their small size for two to three months after they have been
weaned. Barrier and Barkalow (1967) described a technique for
assigning age of gray squirrels in winter pelage that relied on
coloration of rump fur. These techniques for aging were applied in
this study; when they were not applicable, an attempt was made to
use Sharp's (1958) method involving tail pelage characters.

The animals aged as adults were certainly adults and animals
identified as juveniles according to their size during the summer
were indeed juvenile. The group classified as subadults in this
study, however, may include an undetermined number of early-
born juveniles and misclassified adults. Extensive use of age data
has been avoided because of the unknown incidence of errors in
aging.

Observations on the three trap areas were made between
September 1973 and June 1975 to determine proportions of marked
squirrels in the populations and possibly to locate marked squirrels
that had disappeared from other grids. The main observation effort
was made between June 1974 and June 1975. Usually daily
observations began one-half hour before sunrise to one hour after
sunrise and lasted 6 to 8 hours. The observation period was
shortened to 4 or 5 hours during extreme winter weather. The
numbers of squirrels seen per day were used to make time-area
estimates of the study area populations according to Goodrum
(1940). These estimates differed from Goodrum 's method in that
they were based on data from a somewhat larger area and over a
longer observation period.

During the observations, I wore camouflage clothing and moved
approximately 300 ft (91 m) per hour. These movements, confined to
trails on the grids, were silent except during periods of crusted
snow cover. In most cases, I could approach to within 15 yds (14 m) of
a gray squirrel without flushing it.

Each trap area was divided into 100 foot (30 m) squares to map
squirrel sightings and timber. Location, species, basal area, and the
presence or absence of tree dens or leaf nests were recorded for
every tree with over 0.8 square decimeters of basal area. The
number of quadrats in which each species occurred was recorded,
then divided by the sum of the quadrats of occurrence for all species
and multiplied by 100: this “percentage frequency” index indicates
the uniformity of distribution for each species. The sum of the basal
area for each species was divided by the total basal area for all

298

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

species and multiplied by 100: this is a measure of the relative size of
the trees of each species and is the “percentage dominance.” The
number of trees of each species was divided by the total number of
trees and multiplied by 100: to give the relative number of each
species present, the “percentage density”. These three indices were
averaged to describe the overall importance of each species in the
woodlot (Table 1). This average is the “Importance Value” of Curtis
and McIntosh (1950).

To obtain an estimate of oak mast production on the three grids,
the number of acorn caps were counted on 94 circular quadrats,
each with an area of one square yard (0.836 m2). Caps were assumed
to decompose at the same rate on all grids.

TABLE 1. Composition of tree layer on trapping Grids I, II, and III, Potter
Research Area

Avg. basal Percentage

Species Grid Trees/acre area1 (dm2) Frequency Density Dominance I.V.2

Quercus

I

44

13

(8.7)

18

38

60

39

rubrum

II

26

15

(7.4)

23

38

71

44

III

58

11

(6.7)

18

45

58

40

I

24

7

(5.5)

16

21

18

18

Q. alba

II

13

10

(7.7)

20

8

10

13

III

33

6

(4.2)

18

24

17

20

Acer

I

9

4

(6.7)

10

8

4

7

rubrum

II

78

3

(2.9)

23

47

16

29

III

14

6

(4.7)

12

11

7

10

A. sac-

charum

III

12

8

(6.0)

15

9

8

11

Tilia

I

8

6

(5.1)

8

6

5

6

ameri-

II

0.3

12

(0.0)

2

0.2

0.3

0.7

cana

III

2

9

(7.1)

4

1

1

2

Ulmus

I

10

3

(4.5)

11

8

3

7

sp.

II

2

6

(5.9)

7

1

1

3

III

2

12

(6.1)

4

1

2

2

Fraxinus

I

5

7

(5.6)

8

4

3

5

ameri-

cana

II

III

2

11

(6.2)

4

2

2

3

Carya

I

7

3

(2.3)

7

6

2

5

ovata

II

0.6

4

(6.0)

3

0.4

0.2

1

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

299

Avg. basal Percentage

Species Grid Trees/acre area1 (dm2) Frequency Density Dominance I.V.2

Carya

I

1

3

(2.5)

3

1

0.3

2

cordifor-

II

1

4

(3.6)

3

0.3

0.1

1

mis

III

0.2

1

(0.0)

0.7

0.1

0.0

0.3

Juglans

I

2

8

(6.0)

5

1

1

3

cinerea

II

2

6

(4.9)

7

1

1

3

III

1

8

(5.7)

3

1

1

2

Prunus

I

1

5

(3.2)

4

1

1

2

serotina

II

4

3

(2.1)

9

2

1

3

III

0.7

6

(1.7)

2

1

0.4

1

Populus

tremu-

loides

I

3

2

(0.9)

3

2

1

2

P. grandi-l

2

5

(3.8)

4

2

1

2

dentata

III

3

11

(3.5)

7

2

3

4

Corylus

ameri-

cana

I

0.3

1

(0.0)

1

0.2

0

0.4

Betula

papyri

fera

I

2

3

(2.6)

3

2

1

2

Celtis

occiden-

talis

II

0.2

5

(0.0)

1

0

0

0.3

Acer

negundo

II

1

1

(0.6)

3

1

0

0.3

Juglans

II

2

2

(0.0)

0.8

0

0

0.3

nigra

III

4

4

(0.0)

0.7

0.3

0.1

0.4

Ostrya

virgini-

ana

III

6

1

(0.4)

12

4

1

6

1 Standard deviation in parentheses.

2 Importance Value.

300

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

Squirrel home range

Of 268 gray squirrels captured and released during the study,
49% were captured once, 19% twice, and only 8% five times or more
(ave. 7 times). Two estimates of home range, a minimum polygon
estimate (Hayne, 1949) and a home range index estimate (Metzgar
and Sheldon, 1974), were made for each of these squirrels. The
average minimum polygon estimate was 3 acres (1 ha); the average
home range index estimate was 2 acres (0.9 ha) (Table 2).

Gray squirrel investigators differ on the squirrel's typical home
range size. Flyger (1960) estimated home ranges for Maryland
squirrels at 0.2 to 7 acres (0.1 ha to 2.8 ha). Robinson and Cowan
(1954) estimated home ranges of 50 to 55 acres (20.3 to 22.3 ha) in a
Vancouver Island woods. For Indiana gray squirrels, Allen (1952)
estimated a daily activity radius of 100 yards (91 m).

TABLE 2. Home ranges of 21 gray squirrels on the Potter Research Area

Grid

I

II

III

Home Range Estimates

Individual

Squirrel

Sex

Locations

Home Range Index
(acres)

Minimum Polygon
(acres)

22

m.

11

5

8

43

m.

5

2

4

2

f.

5

1

0.3

40

m.

5

1

32

f.

5

3

5

m.

5

1

7

f.

10

3

1

16

f.

6

1

0.4

2

f.

9

1

1

23

m.

5

2

24

m.

6

3

1

27

f.

8

3

1

31

m.

5

0.4

32

m.

5

1

0

80

rn.

11

3

3

102

m.

6

3

41

f.

7

4

4

58

f.

5

7

47

f.

5

3

36

f.

8

2

8

40

f.

6

1

2

Mean (all grids) males 6 3

females 7 2

all sexes 6 2

2

3

3

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

301

Tester and Siniff (1974) pointed out that home range estimates
based on recapture data grow progressively larger with an
increasing number of recaptures. The small number of recaptures
for the 21 animals (for which estimates were made) in my study
limits the size of calculated home ranges. Our estimates therefore
represent minimum sizes.

Hayne (1949) remarked on another difficulty in using recapture
data for home range estimation — the ranges of many animals do
not conform to the size and shape of the trap grid on which they are
captured. My observations show that 16% of the gray squirrels
sighted were using timbered areas adjacent to the trap grids as well
as the grids themselves. These sightings included animals that were
unmarked or marked only with grid codes. Because these animals
could not be individually identified, their movements could not be
used for home range estimation. Their movements do show,
however, that the estimates made above may be somewhat smaller
than the true home ranges for these squirrels.

The agreement of home range estimates from this study with
Flyger’s 1960 figures indicates that home ranges for some gray
squirrels may not exceed 7 acres (2.8 ha). In my study, however, it
was not possible to make any home range estimate for the 182
squirrels caught only once or twice. Thus the home range estimates
here reported do not apply to these mobile animals. It appears that
there were certain small cohorts of the trap grid populations that
are quite conservative in their movements and other larger cohorts
that ranged more widely.

Dispersal

Size of Dispersing Cohort. The 8 squirrels observed on grids other
than the ones on which they were originally marked are only a small
proportion of the 268 marked squirrels that could have dispersed to
other areas. However, the time of observation of dispersing animals
was only a small proportion (12%) of the time during which they
could have dispersed. In addition, the observation areas
represented only 36% of the total area available to dispersing
squirrels. The observation sample, then, represents only 4% of the
combined time and area available for sampling. In theory, 8
squirrels observed during a 4% sample yield an estimate of 200
squirrels dispersing at least as far as a new study grid. Actually, the
small sample size limits the dependability of this estimate, but these
data indicate that a large proportion of all marked squirrels
dispersed at least 0.4 miles (0.64 km) (the distance between the

302

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

grids) at some time dur i ng the study. One advantage of this estimate
is that it considers only squirrels that actually dispersed rather than
lumping squirrels that dispersed with those that died.

Trapping records show that 68% of all gray squirrels trapped
were captured only once or twice. Mortality probably did not play a
significant role in those disappearances. For squirrels that were
captured more than twice, the average period between first and
third captures was 35 days. The upper 95% confidence limit on this
mean is 57 days. Average mortality over a 57-day period should
have been between 7 (Mosby 1969) and 10% (Barkalow et al, 1970).
According to these estimates of mortality, between 90 and 93% of the
disappearances after one or two captures were due to dispersal
rather than mortality. Only 26% of 384 gray squirrels observed on
the grids were marked, indicating that marked squirrels were
actually dispersing and not simply avoiding traps.

These independent estimates of the number of dispersing
squirrels demonstrate that a large proportion (probably well over
half) of the squirrels on the Potter Area undertook movements of
half a mile (0.8 km) or more during the study.

Barkalow et al. (1970) estimated that 15% of squirrels marked on
his 200-acre (81 ha) study plots moved into other areas. Mosby (1969)
studied two woodlots separated by 800 feet (244 m) of cultivated
land. He detected 45. movements between the woodlots or from the
woodlots into surrounding areas, a 6% dispersal rate. Flyger (1960)
saw no movement between two woodlots 600 yards (549 m) apart.
Longley (1963) felt that ingress of dispersing squirrels had an
important effect on local populations on his Minnesota study areas.
He estimated the fall population on one woodlot at 33 and observed 6
new squirrels (not including young of the year) in the following
summer. He also observed 6 instances of 0.5 mile (0.8 km)
movements and described 0.25 mile (0.4 km) movements as “not
uncommon.” Sharp (1959) observed the majority of gray squirrels
moving out of his Pennsylvania study areas in anticipation of a mast
failure. He also cited Schorger’s 1949 statement that squirrels
abandoned areas before mast failure manifested itself. This implies
that most, if not all, squirrels in an area with low food reserves may
disperse to other areas.

Transient Squirrels on Trap Areas. Time-area estimates of fall
population densities on the trap areas ranged from 0.4 to 1.0
squirrels per acre (1 to 3 squirrels per hectare) with a mean of 1
squirrel per acre (2.5 squirrels/ha) (Table 3). This density estimate

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

303

TABLE 3, Time-area estimates of study area populations on the Potter Area

Observation

Gray Squirrels

Largest no.

Census

Study

time

observed

seen on a

Estimated

period

Grid

days hours marked

unmarked

single day

density/acre

Sept.

I

7

45

9

75

16

1

To

Nov.

II

9

52

22

37

15

1

1974

III

7

40

3

12

4

0.4

Total

23

136

34

124

35

1

March

To

I

9

84

16

14

7

1

May

II

9

69

17

19

9

1

1975

III

9

64

3

12

5

0.4

Total

26

216

36

45

21

0.6

compares favorably with Moulton and Thompson’s (1971) estimate
of 2 squirrels per acre (4.0 squirrels/ha) in Iowa County, Wisconsin
and finds support in other literature estimates of squirrel density
(Barkalow et al., 1970—1.35 squirrels/acre (3.34/ha); Brown and
Yeager, 1945—1/acre (2.50/ha). Applying a liberal estimate of
slightly more than 1 squirrel/acre to the area of the trapping grids,
the combined populations of all grids should have been no more than
36 in the fall of 1973.

Population indices during the 25-month study indicated that local
squirrel populations remained stable (trap success: 1973—0.4
squirrels/grid day, 1974—0.4 squirrels/grid day; observation
success; 1973—0.4 squirrels/hour, 1974—1 squirrel per hour). In
addition, there is no evidence of an unusually successful breeding
season during the study. The stability of the population in 1973-1974
indicated that the annual recruitment was no more than that
required to compensate for mortality. An estimate of the mortality
among the original 36 squirrels on the study grids, thus, should
estimate the number of new squirrels recruited to the population
and available for trapping.

Time-area population estimates for September 1974 and May
1975 showed a 40% mortality. If most losses occur in winter, this
estimate probably includes the bulk of the year’s mortality. If this is

; j ,

304

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

not the case and mortality is uniform throughout the year, the 40%
in 8-month estimate is equivalent to a 60% annual mortality. The
40% estimate agrees closely with Mosby’s 1969 estimate of average
annual mortality (42%); the 60% estimate approaches Barkalow et
al.’s 1970 estimate of 64% annual mortality. Because both estimates
find support in the literature, both were used in these computations
in order to provide a broader estimate of the number of squirrels
available for marking. Forty to 60 percent mortality operating on a
stable fall population of 36 squirrels should have been compensated
by recruitment of 14 to 22 young annually. The total number of
squirrels available for marking during the study should have been
between 50 and 66, the sum of the 1973 spring population (36 fall
squirrels reduced by 40% over-winter mortality) and the recruit¬
ment from two years of breeding. In fact, 268 squirrels were
trapped. The difference of 202 to 218 probably resulted from the
appearance of dispersing squirrels.

Dispersal Peaks. In this study, the proportion of unmarked
squirrels in the total catch was taken as an index to the rate of
dispersal in the population (Fig. 2). After the initial marking
period, increases in this proportion always reflected movement onto
the trapping area. There is only one occurrence that could cause an

PROBABILITY LEVEL

* * P .01

* P .05

Figure 2. Changes in the proportion of unmarked gray squirrels in the monthly
catch on the Potter Research Area. (Vertical lines represent 95 percent
confidence intervals).

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

305

increase in this proportion in the absence of actual movement, and
that is the appearance of young of the year in the traps at a time
when they are no longer recognizable as juveniles. This situation, if
it ever existed, was probably confined to a brief period in the fall or
early winter and was of little consequence in the interpretation of
seasonal dispersal during this study.

Sharp (1959) stated that 80 to 90% of a local gray squirrel
population could be trapped in a 3-week period. Data from Potter
Area trapping also indicated that nearly all of the resident squirrels
on the trapping areas were marked by the end of the first month's
trapping. Therefore, the data from the first month on each grid
were discarded to avoid spurious peaks in the proportion of
unmarked squirrels. The remaining data for late spring and early
summer showed that there was little or no spring dispersal in the
spring of 1973. The low proportion of unmarked squirrels in the
July catch indicated that dispersal remained low through mid¬
summer. The low June and July proportions also demonstrated that
the appearance of first litter juveniles which probably occurred at
this time (Barkalow and Shorten, 1973) did not affect the utility of
the proportion as a barometer of dispersal. Only 5 squirrels of the 42
captured during this summer were juveniles.

There was a sharp increase in the proportion of unmarked
squirrels in the catch from July to August, 1973 (X2 = 5.43, P < .05).
Using the small size of the summer juvenile along with Sharps 1958
tail pelage characters, I identified only two juveniles during this
period. The other 16 unmarked squirrels that appeared were adults
or subadults dispersing from other areas. This influx was probably
the beginning of the fall shuffle.

Rates of dispersal remained high from September 1973 through
January 1974 (Fig. 2). Movement in the first half of the period can
be explained as a manifestation of the fall shuffle. Most in¬
vestigators, however, have observed the end of the shuffle sometime
in November. Barkalow and Shorten (1973) mentioned that gray
squirrels on one of their study areas moved into adjacent habitat
between December and April apparently driven by a lack of food.
Allen (1952) stated that Indiana gray squirrels refused to abandon a
woodlot in winter even when food resources dwindled. Both
researchers seemed to consider winter movements as unusual.
Nonetheless, movement to and from the trapping areas on the
Potter Area continued through January in each of two consecutive
winters.

306

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [ Vol. 66

The proportion of unmarked animals in the catch dropped (X2 =
15.15, P < .01) between January and February 1974 (Fig. 2).
Activity seemed to decline during periods of deep, fluffy snow but
was not inhibited by compacted or crusted snow. The absence of
long-distance movements on the Potter Area in late winter may
have resulted from a cover of loose snow. The difference between
squirrel activity on winter days with and without snow was
significant (t = 2.75, P < .01). The level of significance might have
been even higher if the difference in activity on varying types and
depths of snow had been taken into account.

The proportions of unmarked squirrels in the catch rose steadily
from March to June 1974 (X2 = 14.21, P < .01) (Fig. 2). This spring
movement occurred well before the weaning of first-litter juveniles.
Barkalow and Shorten (1973), Shorten (1954), and Sharp (1959) all
mentioned similar spring movement in gray squirrel populations.

The high proportion of unmarked squirrels trapped between
June 1974 and January 1975 was due to a repetition of the kind of
dispersal that occurred in late summer and fall 1973. Of 54
squirrels taken in the last half of 1974, 29 could be aged accurately;
10 were juvenile, and 19 were adult. These data indicate that fall
movements were undertaken by members of all age cohorts in the
population.

The significant decline (X2 = 12.44, P < .01) in the proportion of
unmarked squirrels in the catch between January and February
1975 reflected the same pattern of restricted late winter movement
that occurred during this period in 1974 (Fig.2).

The difference between the proportions of unmarked squirrels in
March and April 1975 was not significant (X2 = 3.29, P < .10).
However, the pattern of increasing dispersal in early spring was
similar in both 1974 and 1975. In 1975, as in 1974, the beginning of
the dispersal was too early to be attributed to the appearance of
weaned juveniles.

The proportion of unmarked animals trapped was uniformly high
in the autumns and winters of 1973 and 1974. Spring and summer
patterns varied. The proportions of unmarked squirrels in April
and June 1973 were low indicating that there was little dispersive
movement during this period. In the corresponding periods of 1974
and 1975, however, the proportions of unmarked squirrels in the
traps were high, indicating a high level of spring and summer
dispersal. The differences in successive spring dispersals implied
that spring gray squirrel movements on the Potter Area were a

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

307

response to varying environmental conditions rather than a
consistent immutable behavioral trait.

Effect of Mast Crop Variations on Spring Dispersal Weather
records for Madison, Wisconsin show a 3-week period in January
and February 1973 in which temperatures averaged 42°F (5.6°C.)
(high) and 25°F (-3.9°C.) (low). A second warm period occurred in
mid-March during which temperatures rose as high as 67°F
(19.4°C.). These early warm periods accelerated local phenology.
Ice break-up in Lake Mendota in Madison occurred on 14 March
1973, the second earliest break-up since 1852 when break-up dates
were first recorded. Then, on 9 April 1973, a 14-inch snow storm
moved through southern Wisconsin. The low temperature on 11
April 2 was 7°F (-14°C.). Freezing temperatures alternated with
high afternoon readings until 18 May, the date of last frost for that
spring.

The early warm periods followed by snow and late spring frosts
damaged the flowers of many early-blossoming trees. A represen¬
tative of the Wisconsin Phenological Society (Lettau, 1975, pers.
comm.) stated that a stand of burr oaks (Quercus macrocarpa) she
observed in Madison had no fruit in the fall of 1973, apparently
because of spring frost damage. I have no record of mast abundance
for 1973 on the Potter Area, but I believe that these weather records
and observed weather effects on trees in surrounding areas are good
indications that mast producing trees on the study area suffered a
considerable loss of blossoms in 1973.

As a result of flower damage, the trees that produce seeds from
the flower of the same year such as red and sugar maple, shagbark
(Carya ovata) and bitternut hickory (C. cordiformis) , and all
members of the white oak group probably bore much-reduced mast
crops in 1973. Oaks of the red oak group probably bore a normal
crop because their fruit develops from the previous year’s flower
(Allen, 1943; Allen, 1952; Fowells, 1965; Rosendahl, 1955), but for
that reason their crop declined in 1974. Thus, the unseasonal 1973
frost probably affected mast production for 2 consecutive years.

These years of reduced mast crop probably had greatest impact
on the squirrel population in the late winters and early springs of
1974 and 1975. Without normal mast carry-over from the previous
fall, food would become scarce, encouraging spring dispersal.

Movement Distances. During 1974 and 1975, I observed or
trapped 10 gray squirrels that had moved from one trapping grid to
another. These movements averaged 0.4 miles (0.6 km), they ranged

308

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [ Vol. 66

from 0.2 to 0.5 mile or 0.3 to 0.8 km. It is not likely that these
movements were within the normal home ranges of these squirrels
because if they had been, average home range area (assuming that
they were circular) would have been 125 acres (50 ha), roughly twice
the size of any home range estimates found in the literature.
Apparently these movements were part of a population dispersal.

Goodrum (1940) stated that gray squirrels in Texas seldom moved
more than 5 miles (8 km). Brown and Yeager (1945) in Illinois
thought that squirrels might move 2 to 3 miles (3 to 5 km) in the
course of a year’s foraging. Sharp (1959) reported that one
Pennsylvania gray squirrel moved 62 miles (100 km) over a 6 month
period.

There are indications that some of the movements on the Potter
Area might have been longer than the 0.5 mile (0.8 km) observed
maximum. Three of the 10 squirrels that moved to new areas were
frequently observed on their new grids after the initial movement.
The other 7 did not stay on their new areas. Four of these 7 squirrels
were marked with a grid code alone, so they could have returned
unnoticed to their original grids. The other 3 squirrels, however,
were individually marked, and if they had returned to their original
grids, the movement would have been detected. The disappearance
of these squirrels was most probably due to mortality or continued
movement away from their original grids.

The dispersing squirrels were not easy to trap. Of the 10 squirrels
that were recorded on new grids, 8 were observed and only 2
trapped. This low trapping rate probably stemmed from the rapid
movement of these squirrels through the trap grids.

Daily Activity

Daily fluctuations in gray squirrel activity on the Potter Area
showed three seasonal patterns from June 1974 to May 1975. The
summer pattern had two peaks of activity, one from 2 to 5 hours
after sunrise, and the other, 1 to 3 hours before sunset.

During the 3-month autumn pattern, activity was constant
throughout the day, probably because the squirrels were caching
recently fallen mast. Twilight observations in September and
October indicated activity long after sunset, but it was too dark to
count these squirrels accurately.

The winter pattern was most prominent during January. Activity
peaked at noon, apparently in response to midday warmth.
February activity resembled the spring patterns of March and

1978]

Madson— Squirrels on Research Area

309

April, probably because of the relatively mild weather during most
of the late winter in 1975.

Goodrum (1940), Allen (1952), and Packard (1956) all reported
that the gray squirrel was most active during the early morning and
late afternoon. Donohoe and Beal (1972) noted that squirrels
carrying radio transmitters showed activity peaks at 10:00 A.M.
and 2:00 P.M. Bakken (1959) probably took the most reasonable
position, stating that there was an early morning and late afternoon
activity peak during mild seasons, with an early afternoon peak
often occurring in late spring. In the extreme cold of midwinter,
Bakken found these peaks were replaced by a single peak in the late
morning or early afternoon.

Effect of Weather on Activity

Using daily observation success as an index to squirrel activity, I
tested the correlation between activity and the following weather
conditions: maximum daily temperature, minimum daily
temperature, daily precipitation, maximum wind velocity, average
wind velocity, and the degree of cloud cover. Estimates for the last
three weather conditions were made for the Potter Area from
records for Madison, Wisconsin, 40 miles (64 km) to the south, and
Lone Rock, W isconsin, 30 miles (48 km) to the west. There was close
agreement of data from the two stations. All other weather data
were obtained from records for Baraboo, Wisconsin, 6 miles (10 km)
west of the study area. There was a negative correlation between
summer observation success and maximum (r = -.36, P = .08) and
minimum (r = -.34, P = .11) temperature. Most gray squirrel
researchers (Barkalow and Shorten, 1973; Brown and Yeager,
1945) have stated that squirrels are not active in midafternoon
during the summer. In a multivariate analysis of squirrel activity
and weather conditions. Doebel and McGinnes (1974) indicated that
only 5% of all variation in gray squirrel activity could be accounted
for by changes in temperature.

There was also a negative correlation (r = -.42, P = .08) between
observation success and spring precipitation. The squirrels
understandably seek shelter from cold rains in early spring.

The only other correlation approaching significance was between
observation success and winter cloud cover (r = .34, P = .10).
Overcast skies usually accompany warm temperatures in winter.
For this reason, I thought initially that the squirrels were
responding to high winter temperatures and that the correlation
with cloud cover was accidental. However, the lack of significant

PERCENT OF TOTAL ACTIVITY

310

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 66

HOURS AFTER SUNRISE

Figure 3. Average hourly activity rates for the gray squirrel on the Potter
Research Area.

1978]

Madson— Squirrels on Research Area

311

correlation between observation success and winter temperatures
indicated that the squirrels were responding to some feature of
cloudy winter days other than high temperature, possibly light
intensity. Packard (1956) in Kansas found a direct relationship
between gray squirrel activity and low light intensity. He did not to
suggest a physiological or behavioral explanation for the
relationship, and I have none. Barkalow and Shorten (1973) stated
that the gray squirrel’s retina contains only cone cells and that the
lens has a yellow pigmentation for filtering strong light. As a result,
light sensitivity of the gray squirrel eye is similar to that of man.
Any observer who has been afield can attest to the effect of snow
glare on the human eye. A similar impact on the gray squirrel
might explain the animal’s lower activity on sunny winter days.

I found no correlation between observation success and wind
velocity, although Goodrum (1940), Packard (1956), and Bakken
(1959) all reported that heavy wind generally inhibits gray squirrel
activity. Goodrum gave two explanations for the effect of wind. He
thought that the squirrel might be less sure of its footing in wind¬
swept branches and that its sight and hearing might be impaired by
movements and noise among blowing trees.

The first explanation does not seem likely. The gray squirrel is
well-suited visually and physically for arboreal movement and can
survive a 50-foot (15.2 m) fall without apparent injury. Gray
squirrels on the Potter Area did not seem hesitant about climbing
during heavy wind. Wind may interfere with the efficiency of the
squirrel’s senses, but it interferes with an observer’s as well;
correlations in previous stdies may have resulted as much from
observer inefficiency as from actual reduction in squirrel activity.
Doebel and McGinnes (1974) found a very low correlation between
wind and activity probably because their use of radio collars made it
possible to monitor activity while avoiding error from observation
inefficiency or disturbance.

Habitat Preferences

Population differences on three trapping areas. Data from 88 days
of observation (averaging 6 hours per day) were tested by analysis of
variance and the three trap grids were found to be significantly
different (P < .01). The average number of observations per day
were: Trap Area 1—6 squirrels per day, Trap Area II— 6 per day,
and Trap Area III— 2 per day (Table 4). Time-area density
estimates for the three areas in the fall of 1974 were 1 squirrel per

312

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

acre (3.2/ha), 1 squirrel per acre (3.0/ha), and 0.4 squirrel per acre
(1.0/ha), respectively (Table 3).

TABLE 4. Observation success for three grids, Potter Research Area

Length of

observation Number of squirrels seen

period

Grid

Hours

Days

Gray

Fox

Red

Acres

I

154

25

146 (6) a

16 (l,a

52 (2)a

12

II

223

37

206 (6)

73 (2)

53(1)

12

III

166

27

47 (2)

29(1)

6(1)

11

Total

543

89

399

118

111

36

a _ observations per day.

A second index to gray squirrel abundance was obtained from
trapping data. The numbers of squirrels on each grid per week were
compared by analysis of variance. To avoid bias from varying trap
success at different times of year only weeks in which all grids were
trapped were used. The differences in average grid success (1—6
squirrels per week, II— 5, 7, III— 3) were not significantly different
(P < .10). However, when these two independent estimates of the
populations were considered together, they indicated that the Area
III squirrel population was significantly smaller than the pop¬
ulations on the other two grids.

Differences in Den Density. Two efforts were made to assess the
effect of den density on the squirrel populations. The numbers of
possible tree den cavities and nests on each grid were counted (from
the ground), and nest-box use was assessed under the assumption
that the boxes would be more attractive to squirrels in areas where
natural den densities were low.

Tree den numbers on the three grids were similar: Trap Area I—
4 cavities per acre (10/ha), Trap Area II— 3 per acre (8/ha), and
Trap Area III— 5 per acre (11.6/ha). Leaf nest densities showed
more variation. There was 1 nest per acre (2.2/ha) on Area I, 2
(5.4/ha) on Area II, and 1 (2.2/ha) in Area III. The large number of
nests on Area II may have resulted from the small number of den
cavities present on this grid.

Only 4 of 29 nest boxes installed on the 3 trap areas were
consistently used by gray squirrels. These boxes were filled with
leaves and shredded bark and some gray squirrel hair. Two of them
contained well-built inner nests of shredded leaves and grape bark,

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

313

indicating use by breeding females. Only one juvenile squirrel was
found in the boxes.

Three other boxes contained flying squirrel (Glaucomys volans)
nests; one was used by a fox squirrel (Sciurus niger), and one was
used by a pair of red squirrels (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus). Most of
the boxes that did not contain nest material showed signs of being
used as feeding platforms by squirrels, chipmunks (Tamias
striatus), flying squirrels or mice. The low rate of nest box use on all
grids indicates that den density was not one of the factors that held
Area III gray squirrel density below densities on the other two
grids.

Effect of Mast Crop on Squirrel Population. Variation in size and
abundance of each mast-producing tree species on the Potter Area
trap areas was not in itself sufficient to explain the observed
differences in squirrel population. There were, however, significant
differences in oak mast production on the three areas.

Quadrat samples of acorn caps on the three areas yielded an
estimate of oak mast production over the previous 2 to 3 years. The
length of time covered by this estimate depends on the rate of acorn
cap decomposition which varies with the amount of litter and
dampness on the quadrat. All 3 areas had similar ground conditions
so it was probable that the rate of cap decomposition was similar.

Area II produced significantly more red oak acorns (F = 4.83, P
.01) than the other two grids (Table 5). A similar analysis for white
oak mast indicated a significant difference (F = 8.60, P 4 .001) in
white oak production among all three areas. Area I led in white oak
production followed by Area II, while Area III had the lowest
production (Table 5).

Low white oak mast production on Area III apparently resulted
from interactions among white oak and maple that did not occur to
the same extent on the other two grids. Because there is a direct
relationship between the basal area and the height of the tree, ratios
between basal areas of species (Table 6) represent a comparison of
the average heights of the dominant species on each grid. These
ratios indicate that competition for light between white oak and the
maples on Area III was more intense than on grids I and II (Table 6).

According to Allen (1943), increased access to light causes mast-
producing species in the open to produce more nuts than those in
woodlots. Similarly, increased competition for light may be related
to a decrease in mast crop. This effect is probably most extreme
when competition for light involves relatively xeric, light-requiring

314

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

TABLE 5. Mast production, estimated by acorn cap count, of red oak and white oak
on three grids in the Potter Research Area

Grid

Number of
0.836m2
samples

Red oak**

Mean number of caps

White i

I

30

26.7

22.1

II

30

50.2

12.0

III

34

28.6

2.6

** 4.83 F value
*** 8.60 F value

TABLE 6. Relationship between oak and maple basal area on trapping grids.

Trapping grid

Ratio of basal area

I

II

III

white oak basal area

red oak basal area

0.54

0.65

0.55

white oak basal area

red maple basal area

1.61

3.39

1.07

white oak basal area
sugar maple basal area

_ . a

. _ a

0.80

white oak basal area

all maple basal area

1.61

3.30

0.93

a No sugar maple on grid.

species such as white oak and mesic, shade-tolerant species such as
red and sugar maple. In such a situation, white oak would suffer a
reduction in mast crop as the shade from maples increased. White
oak mast production on the three grids varied with the amount of
light available to the white oaks. Area I was the peak producer
because recent logging had opened up the stand. Area III white oaks
were forced to contend with the shade from a stand of maples and
did not produce well.

The difference in red oak mast production on the three grids
resulted largely from the variation in average red oak size among
the grids. Goodrum et al. (1971) found a linear relationship between
southern red oak mast production and bole diameter. With each 2-
inch (5 cm) increase in bole diameter, he found a 2 (0.746 kg) to 3-

1978]

Madson — Squirrels on Research Area

315

pound ( 1 .2 kg) increase in mast production. Southern red oak acorns
average 316 per pound. The average bole diameter of the red oaks on
Area II was 30 inches (68 cm) while on Area I it was 29 inches (65
cm) and on Area III, 26 inches (59 cm).

The Area III mast crop suffered from a lack of large red oak
producers and from low white oak protection due to shading. This
area also lacked appreciable numbers of non-oak seed producers
(shagbark, hickory, elm, butternut) that were present on the other
grids. These habitat deficiencies resulted in a poor food supply and a
low squirrel population.

Red and Fox Squirrel Populations

Red and fox squirrels also inhabited the Potter Area, although
neither species was as common as the gray squirrel. Rates of
observation and trapping were used as indices to the populations of
red and fox squirrels on each grid.

An analysis of variance of fox squirrel observations on the three
grids showed the number observed to be significantly different (F =
12.55, P < .01) among trap areas. Area II had the greatest number
of observations (2 per day) followed by Area III (1 per day) and Area
I (0.6 per day). An analysis of variance for trap success on the 3 areas
showed no significant differences.

Analysis of variance of red squirrel observation success revealed
a significant difference (F I= 6.87 P < .005) among all means. Area I
success was greatest (2 per day) followed by Area II (1 per day) and
Area III (0.2 per day). A test of trap success differences was not
appropriate because of the small number of animals captured.

Low red squirrel population on Area III was related to the
consistently poor mast crop on that grid. Observation records
showed red squirrels to be most abundant around concentrations of
butternut trees on Area I and 150 yards north of Area I. Butternuts
were eaten extensively when they were available.

The apparent low fox squirrel population on Area I does not seem
to be related to any floral element of the habitat. This area has good
mast production, a large number of potential dens, northern and
southern exposures, and the open aspect supposedly preferred by
fox squirrels. A possible explanation is that the fox squirrel
populations do not compete well with red squirrels.

In three agonistic encounters I observed between red and fox
squirrels, the red squirrel always prevailed. In the absence of other
data, the red squirrel’s aggressive behavior may partially explain
the scarcity of fox squirrels on Area I.

316

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

LITERATURE CITED

Allen, D. L. 1943. Michigan fox squirrel management. Michigan Dept. Conserv.,
Game Div. Publ. 100. Lansing. 404 pp.

Allen, J. M. 1952. Gray and fox squirrel management in Indiana. Indiana Dept.
Conserv., P-R Bull. 1. 112 pp.

Bakken, A. 1952. Behavior and interrelationships between fox squirrels and gray
squirrels in mixed populations. Ph.D. dissertation, U. Wisconsin, Madison. 182

pp.

_ , 1959. Behavior of gray squirrels. In Symposium on the gray squirrel.

Proc. Ann. Conf. SE Assoc, of Game & Fish Comm., 13: 393-407.

Barkalow, F. S., Jr., R. B. Hamilton, and R. F. Soots, Jr. 1970. The vital statistics of
an unexploited gray squirrel population. Jour. Wildl. Manag. 34: 489-500.

_ , and M. Shorten. 1973. The World of the Gray Squirrel J. B. LippincottCo.

Philadelphia and New York. 160 pp.

_ , and R. F. Soots, Jr. 1965. An analysis of the effect of artificial nest boxes on

a gray squirrel population. Trans. N. Am. Wildl. Nat. Resources Conf. 30: 349-
360.

Barrier, M. J., and F. S. Barkalow, Jr. 1967. A rapid technique for aging gray
squirrels. Jour. Wildl. Manag., 31: 715-719.

Brown, L. G., and L. E. Yeager. 1945. Fox squirrels and gray squirrels in Illinois.
Illinois Nat. Hist. Surv. Bull. 23: 449-536.

Curtis, J. T., and R. P. McIntosh. 1950. The interrelations of certain analytic and
synthetic phytosociological characters. Ecology, 31: 434-455.

Doebel, J. H., and B. S. McGinnes. 1974. Home range and activity of a gray squirrel
population. Jour. Wildl. Manag., 38: 860-867.

Donohoe, R. W., and R. O. Beal. 1972. Squirrel behavior determined by telemetry.
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Flyger, V. F. 1960. Movements and home range of the gray squirrel, Sciurus
carolinensis, in two Maryland woodlots. Ecology, 41: 365-369.

Fowells, H. A. 1965. Silvics of Forest Trees of the United States. U.S. Dept. Agric.
Handbook 271. 762 pp.

Goodrum, P. D. 1940. A population study of the gray squirrel in eastern Texas. Texas
Agri. Expt. Sta. Bull. 591, College Station. 34 pp.

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317

_ _ V. H. Reid, and C. E. Boyd. 1971 Acorn yields, characteristics, and

management criteria of oaks for wildlife. Jour. Wildl. Manag., 35: 520-532.

Hayne, D. W. 1949. Calculation of size of home range. Jour. Mammal. 30: 1-18.

Jurewicz, R. and 0. Rongstad. 1974. Environmental Analysis of the Kickapoo River
Impoundment — Biological Aspects: Birds and Mammals. IES Report 28,
Center for Biotic Systems, Inst, for Environ. Studies, U. of Wis. -Madison, pp.
160-189.

Longley, W. H. 1963. Minnesota gray and fox squirrels. Amer. Midi. Nat., 69: 82-98.

Metzgar, L. H., and A. L. Sheldon. 1974. An index of home range size. Jour. Wildl.
Manag., 38: 546-551.

Mosby, H. S. 1969. The influence of hunting on the population dynamics of a woodlot
gray squirrel population. Jour. Wildl. Manag., 33: 59-73.

Moulton, D. W., and W. H. Thompson. 1971. California group virus infections in
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Nixon, C. M., and M. W. McClain. 1969. Squirrel population decline following a late
spring frost. Jour. Wildl. Manag., 33: 353-357.

Nixon, C. M., and M. W. McClain, and R. W. Donohoe. 1975. Effect of hunting and
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Packard, R. L. 1956. The tree squirrels of Kansas. Univ. Kansas Mus. Nat. Hist.,
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Rosendahl, C. O. 1955. Trees and Shrubs of the Upper Midwest. Univ. Minnesota,
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318

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 66

Tester, J. R., and D. B. Siniff. 1974. Relevance of home range concepts to game
biology. Internatl. Cong, of Game Biologists, 11: 287-296.

Uhlig, H. G. 1957. Gray squirrel populations in extensive forested areas of West
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