south of the border

Peru, Chili, LaPaz, Mexico......who hasn't driven up and down US 31 in Indiana and wondered if they somehow crossed the border? Or driven past this sign and said, hey, we're only a half mile from Mexico!

Yesterday while traveling, uh, south, I decided on my return trip I would make a short side-trip to Mexico. I remember doing this once before-a long time ago-and visiting this little town on Old 31, now, and maybe originally known as the Mexico Road. Mexico was founded in 1834 by the Wilkinson brothers who believed its location on the west bank of the Eel River was a profitable location to start a town. All of Mexico consists of about two downtown blocks and a handful of churches that want to let passers-by on US 31 know that they are welcome.

Do you ever get that urge while driving 31 to just pull over and visit a church? Evidently some of you do because I see this marketing plan used in a number of small towns.

There was a building that clearly was a bank on the southwest corner (1914), replaced by a newer bank on the southeast corner, now converted to the volunteer fire department's training facility. There was a small, well-kept little commercial block on the northeast corner; it has a small walk-up window like an old-fashioned Dairy Queen. The proprietor of this building came out to greet me. Not many folks stop and take pictures in Mexico, I'm sure. He asked if I knew what was going on with the building across the street. I told him I was a multi-millionaire and planned to drop some significant cash into it, then I said, no, just stopped through to take photos.

The block of commercial buildings across the street (northwest corner if you are keeping track geographically) had clearly seen better days but probably best represented the wealth of Mexico's past. What struck me was the main building, the joint venture between Mexico's Masonic and Odd Fellows' Lodges in 1889. They must have gotten along better than Kiwanis and Rotarians do today. The brickwork in the top of the building was unusual and maybe the most striking feature was the wood-crafted building sign board. Typically these were made out of some form of metal-usually zinc, or limestone. But the brotherhoods of Mexico chose to create their sign boards out of wood with raised wood details and carved wood lettering. Unfortunately a great deal of the wood details are falling victim to time and neglect. All four buildings in this business block were vacant and the curious proprietor told me most of them had some level of roof failure.

I personally don't like to see any community lose its architectural identity. If Mexico lost these, how would you know you were in Mexico?

correspondence of a square peg

June 1

Dear Sir,

Please be aware that your status with our unnamed state agency will need to be updated by the end of this month. Please go on-line and insert peg into hole.

June 8

Dear Unnamed,

Please confirm that you received my peg. Be aware that I have a square peg and it does not fit neatly into the round hole.

June 12

Dear Sir,

We received your on-line update, however the peg did not fit neatly into the hole. Please try again to insert peg into hole. You may wish to review our requirements for pegs at blahblahblah.com

June 14

Dear Unnamed,

I have reviewed the requirements at blahblahblah; these are not applicable to square pegs. Could you identify exactly how you wish for me to insert my peg.

June 16,

Dear Sir,

Please insert your square peg into the round hole. If you are having problems with this action, please contact Joe Blow at joeblow.roundpeg.

June 17,

Dear Joe Blow,

I have been asked to update my status with your unnamed state agency by inserting my square peg into the round hole. Could you please assist me in doing so?

June 20,

Dear Sir,

I have no record that your square peg ever fit into our round hole. Please insert the appropriate peg into the hole. JB

June 20,

Dear Joe Blow,

Attached is a certification letter from your unnamed state agency documenting that my square peg fit into the round hole. Please provide detailed information on how you wish for me to proceed.

June 22,

Dear Sir,

See my previous response. JB

June 23,

Dear Unnamed,

Please find enclosed documents stating that a square peg cannot fit into a round hole. Also enclosed is a document from your agency that states that my square peg qualified for the requirements of the hole and that I am a certified hole-filler for your unnamed agency. Please indicate if you wish for me to pretend to be a round peg.

The problem with certain unnamed state agencies is that they cost the taxpayer more by requiring only round pegs be used.....about 100% more! If Mitch is serious about reform of state government and saving tax dollars he needs to change the hole-filling requirements of his bureaucracy.

Legacy Makers

Few people made me feel more welcome when I moved to River City 15 years ago than a couple of older gentlemen and their wives. Both were civic leaders I had the great pleasure of working with over the years, and had the unfortunate opportunity to say goodbye to both in the last week.

News of the first one's passing came as a shocking sting since I had seen him only the week before and he seemed his normal jovial and mischievous self. Just before attending his funeral, word came of the second one's death. River City lost a couple of greats that week. For me, memories were brought back to mind with tidbits of wisdom sprinkled in.

Bill offered sage advice on politics.....but probably the wisdom imparted that stuck with me the most was his comment that he was so thankful he lost his re-election bid for city council 50+ years ago. I find some comfort in that. He also was a collector-of everything it seemed. Finally when his wife said it was time to clean out the basement and closets, our family was the recipient of many of his archives....well, old magazines and other "treasures". He would show up at my office with a box load of things and say "Betty tells me its time to clean out another closet". This happened every few months over the years and I have to say, we did end up with some pretty cool stuff. I think my favorite was when he showed up with a box of old cassette tapes that his son had recorded Prairie Home Companion shows on from the 1980s.

Jim had so many stories to tell....some of them true. And he wasn't from this politically correct generation, as he referred to me as the "little Hindu". I'm about as Anglo-Saxon as they come, but evidently didn't look so to Jim. I called his office once and complained about how the city fixed the flooding in the viaduct in front of our house. He asked me if it was because I didn't have anywhere for my camel to get a drink. I teared up once when I read a speech for my great aunt upon her being awarded the Sagamore of the Wabash. He took me aside and said he was going to have to toughen me up for politics.

Both were remarkable men of another generation, and different sides of the aisles. Both wanted what was best for River City and offered about all the encouragement I could have asked for. I wonder in those 91 and 83 years if there were rough edges that were worn down, if there were times when hope seemed lost, or opportunities to say "forget this". I mentioned to my wife the other day that for the last 15 years I've lived my life for everyone else and it was time to start thinking about us. She said that was contrary to the message on Sunday. Oh sure, bring God into this.....as if He's not on my case already.

Goodbye Bill and Jim. Thanks for making this outsider feel welcome and an integral part of a city that needs to live up to the legacy you left it.

Sunrise on the Hill

I meet a couple of guys most Thursday mornings for coffee. It started at a local coffee shop several years ago, then moved to Marbucks a few years later. Late last summer one of the guys suggested we have coffee in my barn. He even offered his wife's baked items as a lure. I said sure and set up a couple of chairs and a makeshift table constructed from a very old saw horse and an 8' x 18" oak plank.

That first coffee in the barn was accompanied by a pretty amazing sunrise. So we opened all four large barn doors and took in the sights and smells of an Indiana summer morning in the country. We continued meeting there until both darkness and chill put a damper on things.

Well yesterday I suggested that we resume coffees in the barn this morning. I brewed the coffee and placed it in a large thermos and found a few mugs. When I walked out the back door I was awestruck looking out across the back pasture from our back porch. The warm golden sun was casting long shadows across the lawn and pasture, and a patchy fog was moving across the ground. It was sun-drenched and radiated that golden color.

I hiked up the hill leading to the barn and rolled open the large barn doors, which startled the Red Tailed Hawk that perches daily on the ridge of the barn. The breeze blew through the old oak timbers and captured the smell of hay and sweet grass. With the barn swallows darting through and the bright sun peeking between the cracks of the barn siding, coffees resumed on the Hill.

I don't know what your ideal Indiana is, but this is mine.

LaPorte's front door

Anyone who has traveled into LaPorte on highway 35 knows this scene well. There are probably very few really spectacular barns that form gateways into modern cities. LaPorte is fortunate to have maybe one of the most unusual barns at their southern edge.....the edge of the prairie.

The Door Prairie Barn was constructed in 1882 for Marion Ridgway, whose grandfather had owned the property clear back to 1831. John Jeffrey built the nine-sided barn, but it appears to have been his only attempt at such a project. Nine sides? I guess there were plenty of options for which corner to, er, uh....well. Multi-sided barns are pretty rare and had just come into fashion when this was built. Round barns came a bit later with the height of their construction occurring in about 1905. The Kesling Family of LaPorte restored the Door Prairie Barn in 2001, and it has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

One Munster Shrine

Last Friday I had a dreary trip across Indiana beginning at the Illinois state line and finishing at the Ohio line, all on Route 6. The company was good, and for the most part, the scenery was interesting, but it was an awful gray overcast day for taking pictures.

We hadn't gotten too far into Indiana from Illinois when this happy steer put a smile on my face despite the gloomy skies above. A bit further down the road my observant driver spotted Calvary on the south side of the road in Munster. What's that doing up there I wondered. Knowing that we were on a tight time frame to make it across the state during daylight hours, of course, we stopped.

And it was the best stop of the day.

We gathered up a few photos, walked briskly through the stations of the cross (backwards I think, and we missed a few....that's the trouble with us Protestants), but we couldn't help but be drawn to the unique material the shrine was made from during the 1950s. Sponge rock from Arkansas. Never heard of it. But it was used in masterful precision. I was headed back to the car when my driver (sounds like I'm Amish) began talking to some older gentlemen who looked like they were heading off to do some important work. They planned to spend the day in the tomb switching light bulbs. What? So they invited us into the tomb below Calvary and it was one of the more impressive places I think I've been in here in ol' Indiana.

Now, my pictures (stupid camera) didn't do this place justice. It was really quite remarkable. I went online and found this link that has a little better photography than my orange blurs, and more history: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/11529 . I think what was so amazing was the use of light and stone together in the tomb. And just so that you don't think I wasn't reverent, I asked if it was ok to take pictures, and I did spend a little contemplative time before rolling the stone away and getting back on Route 6.

The one picture that turned out perfectly was the one of my hand. I was inspired with all kinds of thoughts and spiritual applications when I placed my hand on the stone, unfortunately they escape me now. I'll be sure to post more on my travels on Route 6 soon.

Random things from the Hill

I feel like things are starting to become a blur. I've hardly caught my breath with how busy I have been and how much I'm trying to get done at Sycamore Hill. We have the garden in and much weeding is in our future. We landscaped the west and north sides of the house (when we moved in there was some overgrown prickly landscaping on the south side in about 12" of sparkly quartz stone and that was it).

We found scads of mushrooms here this year. 80 around one tree in our yard alone. We also found trespassers on our property while we were looking for the tasty little morsels. After three batches I had had my fill until next year.

This past weekend we acted on a rather good idea I had earlier in the week, if I do say so myself. We have a basketball rim that was intended to go up in the barn but the floor is too uneven so I planned to put it on the garage-but there is no concrete there....yet. So when I was mowing the path to the lower level of the barn it dawned on me that there was a heck of a lot of concrete out there. So with shovels and scrapers my son and I uncovered many more square feet of concrete that has become his basketball court and I put up the rim on the barn. Where else would you put a basketball hoop in Hoosierland?

telling the Hoosier story

Indiana's Cultural Tourism Conference was held on Monday in Merrillville. Since it was a short jaunt down the road, and I thought it would be good exposure to thoughts and ideas about promoting the Michigan Road and other projects I am involved in, I took the day and spent it listening to heritage and cultural tourism cheerleaders.

There were a number of messages about how to promote and market yourself, but the over-riding theme was find what makes you unique and tell the story. My mind drifted into the stories to tell from my hometown and across the state. Some places do a great job with this. We just don't.

There is something to be said of a society that is wise enough to look inside itself and celebrate the cultural heritage that has been left to them. I think that there is something even bigger to be said of a society that is blinded to its past, its' lack of depth, and the rather vanilla appearance of its place. We are missing opportunities left and right to develop the quality of life that people want. It just takes forward thinkers and good leadership to deliver it-something we seem to run from. I coined the term "brain flush" several weeks ago to describe not the accidental loss of our brightest and best, but the deliberate disposal of quality people.

Certainly not to wallow in doom and gloom, I should point out that there are several refreshing locations across our state-maybe in the most unexpected places-that "get it". It's a joy and an honor to talk and work with Hoosiers of that caliber. And if I could give Hoosier Happenings a giant pat on the back, when this blog was started almost three years ago I wanted to celebrate our culture-to tell the story of what makes us unique as Hoosiers. With nearly 700 posts under our belt, I think we've been pretty successful in doing just that. And by reading all this dribble, you are as much a contributor to the discovery as I am.

Another trip on Route 6

Maybe it's because I grew up on one of the greatest coast-to-coast highways in America, or maybe it's because our family's identity was so tied to the road, but I can't hardly get enough of driving the Grand Army of the Republic Highway....Highway 6. And my grandparents must have felt the same way when they shot this picture of my uncle Michael O'Leary back in the 50s when they traveled the road to the east coast.

Several weeks ago I was asked to meet on a project and I suggested this great diner I've always wanted to stop at but never had a reason to do so. The 20th Century restaurant located at 6 and 15 is a classic late-50s diner that doesn't look like its been touched since it was first opened, even as we've embarked on a new century. This fellow I met and I talked a long time about old 6 and the role it played both in our state and nation. And that led to establishing the need to survey 6 across Indiana to see what is left from its early era. More pictures to follow!

And since I've been driving 6 so much into LaPorte County, I couldn't help but stop on this little motel just east of Walkerton. The neon as dusk is a great sight. I suppose places like the 20th Century and the Bel-Air Motel have a hard time justifying their existence in the 21st, but certainly have established themselves a special place in the heart of this old soul. I was forwarded a blogsite on Route 6-it is under "Outside Links" at the left.

Opulence in Hammond

I think sometimes we forget where Indiana's place in the nation was during the roaring 20's. Opulence abounded in many up-and-coming urban areas across the state. The Calumet region, particularly Hammond and Gary, had some of the finest buildings being constructed as a sister region to the Chicago metro area. The area was not only a sizable industrial and port area, but also a significant financial center as money flowed into it.

Hohman Avenue in Hammond is a good place to start in uncovering this past. South of downtown an area developed known as Harrison Park. Served by an electric rail line the area south of the center of town became a suburb for the city's burgeoning upper and upper middle classes. Maybe two of the finest buildings constructed during the boom time sit across the street from each other: the Southmoor Hotel and the Northern States Life Insurance Company Building.

The Southmoor represents the height of Hammond’s economic success of the early 20th century and the commercial building boom that ensued. It is considered one of Hammond’s finest early hotels. Prosperity demanded all types of housing; including workers’ homes, shop keeper and other middle income earners’ housing, as well as estate housing for the affluent. Also needed during this time were apartments for Hammond’s many single and newly married populations. The Southmoor itself became a popular place for teachers to live. The Southmoor catered not only to this population, but also upscale lodging needed by visitors to Hammond for business or pleasure.

The Southmoor was positioned well on one of the city’s main thoroughfares with access to the Green Line, taking commuters not only to the downtown districts, but also with connections to other northwest Indiana cities and Chicago. The apartment building provided a more suburban setting than the downtown and had immediate access to Harrison Park. The building provided a few retail necessities, such as a beauty shop, restaurants, and dry cleaners, located in the building’s commercial space to support its residential population. Developer Leo Deutsch contracted with Gary architect L. Harry Warriner to design the five-story building in 1927. Warriner provided initial drawings late in 1927 which were revised and used for construction in March, 1928.

The company originally known as Employee’s Life and Casualty Insurance began in 1910 in a small room in the rear of Hammond Trust & Savings Bank and was born into a well-suited economic climate that would ensure its success. The originators expected it to have great appeal to the “industrial army of this region”. The company was renamed Northern States Life Insurance Company in 1913, the same year it “took its first step in reinsurance, reinsuring $1,700,000 of business of another company.” From that year forward the growth was “steady and without any high pressure…..until 1919 when the year closed with ten millions of business in force.”

In 1925 a Minneapolis based company with the same name was persuaded to consolidate with the Indiana institution, liquidating the Minneapolis firm and making the Indiana firm of Northern States a giant insurance institution of the upper Midwest, opening up licensure in the states of Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota, along with its current coverage of Indiana, Illinois and Michigan. This gave the Hammond-based company “a field of great diversity of industrial, commercial and agricultural interests.” The company had then, with the consolidation, thirty-two million dollars of insurance and total assets of about three and one-half million. The Northern States' "temple" was constructed in 1926 and rivals any building of its era in architectural excellence. The company, though boasting its economic diversity would weather any storm, was forced to close in 1930 due to the Great Depression.

Both buildings continue to be used today and are in excellent condition. They recently were placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Monterey Bandstand

There are so few of these historic little Victorian-era bandstands remaining in Indiana. It was refreshing to see this little guy as I rounded the corner and found it standing in the middle of Kleckner Park on the banks of the Tippecanoe in the little town of Monterey in northeastern Pulaski County. In 1982 David Dixon created a survey of bandstands in central and northern Indiana; only 14 were accounted for and Monterey's was the only one of the Victorian period, constructed in about 1910.

Communities used the structures for town bands, orators and politicians to entertain or connect with the public. Town bands became particularly popular during the late 1800s and into the early part of the 1900s and drove the need for many of these structures as performance stages in public spaces. The architectural type also followed the garden city, or city beautiful, concept of creating public places of respite or recreation. Such places as parks and public squares required an elevated place for viewing or from which to view the surrounding area. The bandstands were places to see and be seen. No doubt, the burgeoning little town of Monterey needed one of these public spaces and in the early 20th century Adam Kleckner donated a four acre tract of ground to the Town of Monterey for use as a park on the opposite side of the Tippecanoe River. The bandstand quickly followed.

Very little is known about the man who was the builder of the Monterey Bandstand. Abraham R. Hay was born in Indiana in 1852. His father was a native of Pennsylvania and his mother was a native of Germany. Hay was living in Pulaski County when his wife, Isabelle, filed for divorce in 1875; at that time Hay would have been approximately 23 years old. Abraham Hay is listed in the 1910 census for Monterey as a boarder. He was living with Mary Eikelburner, age 65, and her son and his family. Their residence was 52 Main Street. Hay’s marital status is listed as divorced; his occupation is listed as “carpenter of houses” and he was actively working at the time of the census. Abraham Hay died on September 3, 1939.

Bethel II

By my Senior year at Bethel a group spun off of our new Circle K Club to operate the Acorn, though that board and the club’s board shared some members….me being one. Fred became a good friend of mine; he was a fellow business major and Senior, and he became the president of the K club while I was treasurer. Faith also became a good friend and served as either vice-president or secretary, I don't recall but frankly she picked up everything Fred and I didn't do. I was the main manager of the Acorn, with a number of others heading up other areas. It was my time with the group managing the Acorn that brings back the best memories from my Senior year. We brought in a juke box, revamped the kitchen to offer actual food, instituted “Saturday Night Live at the Acorn”, obviously a spin off a program on NBC that will go unnamed in case of copyright infringement. We invited bands and had talent nights and packed the student union. And we actually were making money-well, the student union was. My good friends and cohorts were Scott and Ingrid (who became Mrs. Scott), Amy, and Mark. And by the way, this Acorn has no ties to local terrorist organizations, not that I was aware of anyway.

By my Senior year Bethel was brought back from the brink. Student enrollment was up to about a thousand, a few thousand short of today's enrollment, and discussions began about how to plan the campus for the future. I ran for Senior class treasurer and won, and by virtue of my role with the Acorn was able to sit in student leadership meetings. I was nominated for Homecoming King, but fell short with the votes, probably 15 like in my council race! I think I lost it with my “blood for oil” comment concerning the Persian Gulf War during the assembly interview. Still, it was an honor being the only off-campus student nominated for the court. Speaking of court, it was the Bethel basketball games that really got the heart pumpin’ and probably had the best influence on student morale.

Mark, from the Acorn, was a class A prankster and looking back, though I don’t regret anything, I realize we could have gotten into serious trouble. Besides dumpster diving abroad, we commandeered sacred Bethel ephemera and framed fellow students by placing the materials in their dorm rooms (see top picture!). We held chair races on the sidewalks that followed some of the hilly terrain outside the library using the Board of Directors comfy chairs that had coasters….until we broke one. We hid that chair for a few months until the week before graduation and attempted to glue it back together then very carefully placed it back in the Board Room. I would have hated to be the person that sat in it. Graduation came and went but didn’t seem that “final” since I had already been accepted into architecture school at Andrews University.

Bethel never lived up to those “hallmark” college days that Andrews did. I think it was because I didn’t live on campus. Don’t get me wrong, I had some good times there and made some great friends, but I never really felt at home there. I got an apartment with a couple of guys from Bethel and commuted to Andrews my first two years so I managed to keep some connection with the college, but once the roommate situation ended, so did my link with Bethel. And I never really felt the pull to go back.

the Bethel Years

When we took over the Bethel Acorn, we inherited the mid-80s logo and never changed it. The upside down pink triangle? I know, makes me wonder what they were thinking too. That's my buddy Mark & I revamping the place. Yes, that's a near-mullet I have.

“Architects come a dime a dozen” said my dad as I was trying to plan out my post-high school future. Well, I loved business and already had a connection with Bethel College, so it seemed like a logical place to go. It was a small Christian college in Mishawaka-a half hour commute, and coming from a small Christian high school it seemed like the perfect fit. The enrollment my Freshman year was only about 500 and there was serious discussion about closing the college. The newest building on campus was a library dedicated just a few years prior and named in honor of my step-grandfather. I knew a small handful of kids who went there either from LaVille or my church. But compared to my school of 30-this seemed enormous.

I bonded with a small group of friends I had met during Freshman orientation and they became my base set of friends over the next two years, but my girlfriend and a great number of my old friends from high school were still in the area and since I didn’t live on campus, my time was spent with the old gain. That started to change by my Junior year as I became more active in a few programs. One fellow business major wanted to start a business club and tagged me as someone who could help get that off the ground. We did-it was called the “Bethel Action Network Club”, or BANC, the idea is that it would serve the entire student body as a method of making connections in the business community for future grads. Tom was the driving force behind this, and being a baseball player, attracted a few others with his energy. And then he came to a meeting and said “I have an idea.” He wanted BANC to take over operations of the meager little student union/café called “the Acorn” (Bethel’s campus is full of oak trees). We went along with Tom’s idea and it seemed to work well my Junior year.

By the end of that year Tom had yet another idea, spurred on by the head of our business school who happened to be a Kiwanian, Professor Mow. BANC should become a college Kiwanis program or “Circle K Club”. So, we began down that path. Our membership was never very high, but it sufficed to have a charter granted to us and we were adopted by Mishawaka’s Kiwanis Club. This affiliation with Kiwanis became the reason why I turned to Kiwanis once I returned to my home town six years later. My senior year lived up to college expectations....that's part 2.

Putting the Sycamore in Sycamore Hill

Staking out the location for our allee of trees

This past weekend was amazing, wasn't it? The gloom on Saturday morning turned to sunshine and warmth and by Sunday night it felt like summer. We'll ignore the forecast of possible snow mixed in with rain for this Saturday.

That tom-foolery by Mother Nature convinced me that this past weekend was the time to plant trees. Again asserting the honorable role the sycamore tree should have in the Hoosier state, and wanting our place to live up to its name, I began the hunt for sycamore trees last fall by contacting the state tree nursery. I would have to buy 100 trees. They were out of sycamores. My dad had a catalog of native trees in which I could order 25. The cost was double for 1/4 of the trees-but given how I would insist on planting all 100, the 25 seemed like a better deal. I also ordered 10 (they sent 11) Douglas Fir. These would be the official family Christmas Trees for 2021-2032. And finally I ordered 5 apple trees last fall that I spaded into a temporary location until spring when I could establish the "orchard".

Two weekends ago my son and I, in anticipation of the tree order arriving any day, measured out the locations for the sycamore trees and the orchard. To provide an air of "romanticism and mystic" to the farm, and in keeping with the tradition of farm estates of the 1800s, we lined our roadway property line from the creek to the drive, and then lined each side of the drive all the way up the hill. We finally established a 25' spacing after evaluating 20' and 30'. The orchard was easier to plan at 15' with alternating rows.

The orchard arrived in a box last fall

Then this past weekend I planted. I had some assistance from my daughter for about 3 trees; after that she was finished. I reminded her she wanted the apple trees but that didn't matter. Then I carried buckets of water to nearly the corners of the property. Then I sprayed "deer away" which smells like rancid meat, on the trees hoping to thwart the herd of 30+ deer who are regular visitors to Sycamore Hill. I figure 10-15 years out we'll begin to get a feel for how these little whips will mature. I'll be almost 60. Good grief.

Architectural Unrest

As I have been reading up on John Lloyd Wright recently I was struck by a comment in his book of an experience we had shared in our young architectural careers. Architecture for me has been nearly a life-long pursuit since I understood at an early age there was a sort of "architectural unrest". It was trips to Indianapolis to visit my grandparents, or through Indy on our way to Bloomington that I realized my interest in architecture. As we would drive down Meridian Street, north of I-465, and I studied the boxy new buildings that sprung up overnight I thought to myself “geesh, I can do at least that good”. And so I began designing homes and buildings when I was about 14 years old; I still have that first sketch book filled with floor plans and elevations. It was only a few years later that I also realized that early periods of American architecture also interested me. Possibly due to my love of history, soon I began to study old buildings and developed a real love for preservation. I subscribed to Colonial Homes magazine and the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s magazine when just a junior in high school. You would think that I would gravitate toward a profession in architecture, but I loved business and I can vividly recall my dad responding to me when I said that I wanted to be an architect: “architects come a dime a dozen”. And so, I put my architecture education on hold for four years while I received my business degree.

Near the end of my business schooling I realized I still had the itch to pursue architecture, so I enrolled in Andrews University's School of Architecture. The first design problem we had was for a small home. The professor made his rounds and looked at the work on my drafting table, then looked at me, then back at my work and made the comment "someone has done this before". The next five years I honed my skills and developed a pretty strong philosophy on architecture born out of almost cumbersome convictions. After I graduated, for good or bad, I ended up back in my hometown-something I considered a dream come true.

My second day on the job-exactly 2 days after graduation-the boss dropped a file folder on my desk and said it was for a client who had a lake house that burned down and they wanted to replace it. I was stoked-most archi grads don't get their own design projects for a few years after graduation and this was day 2. So I let loose all of the "creative genius" stored up from 5 years of architecture school and came up with a design that blended the history of the former house built by the client's grandfather, with the loss, but also an eye to the future. It was embedded with this "story" and a great deal of quiet purposeful decisions born from an adherence to Christopher Alexander's theories on architecture....two of his books are sitting on the shelf above me right now.

So the house was built, and I couldn't stay away from watching it come together. I remember one afternoon after work making my way to the site and walking around the shell, putting my hands into the window openings and studying the views from different vantage points. I went back to my loft apartment and wrote extensively about the experience that night. And that was the experience I shared with John Lloyd Wright. Wright wrote about doing this very same thing and called it "the closest thing to a spiritual experience" he had known. I still think fondly of that house on the lake and smile when I pass by it because I know the "story" behind the house. I know its intricacies and the reason it looks and functions like it does that the homeowner may not understand consciously, but probably in their subconscious are quite satisfied.

It is hard to explain the great personal satisfaction in seeing something imagined, then placed on paper, rise from the ground. It's like walking through someone's creative soul. Maybe it's like a farmer who walks through a corn field prior to harvest, or a mechanic who revs an engine brought back from the dead. It is a grand experience and I'm thankful God wired me in such a way to create.

Country Music for the Soul

I have had an on-again, off-again relationship with Country music all my life and the CMAs last night brought that back to mind. As a kid I think that along with the Duke boys, and my whole country “swagger” was the need to listen to country music. I remember watching performers on Hee Haw and listening to the Grand Ol' Opry on the car radio. While I had a small AM radio that my aunt gave me for Christmas one year and I could pick up Rock on WLS, later I would start to listen to country music and only gave that up when I entered junior high.

And then it was off-again while Christian Rock and real Rock took center stage well into college. But then something shifted again and about mid-way through architecture school I got the hankering for a little twang in my life. That time it stuck, even if it was just one of five channels preset on the car radio. And then I got my truck...and, well, it only seemed appropriate.

And then I met my wife and she loved country music-mostly that girly stuff that hard-core, old-school country musicians wouldn't recognize as real "country", but that was ok. An interesting note is that when our son was a baby and began to fuss in the car on road trips-he only responded to country music-so we'd turn it up load and sing along with Garth or Shania. And so it has continued at our house, and now fittingly, on our farm.

For the most part country music is just good for the soul. There seems to be such a crossover in lyrics in what could be loosely, and at times concretely, understood as spiritual messages in the songs. And a great deal of time-they're just good plain fun. Country music is the sound of America's heartland, and while I don't always agree with the message, it is a window to our soul set to a sound born in the homes of pioneers on our early frontier.

Eric and Sam live at Fiddlers Hearth

Here's a couple more talented notes

Monument to the Homefront & the other Lloyd Wright

Kingsbury Ordinance Plant Employment Office & Medical Examination Building

Probably the most architecturally important building remaining at the KOP

I am working through a project right now that has required a great deal of research in advance on a bit of an unsung architect who practiced in Indiana during the 1920s, 30s, and 40s. John Lloyd Wright, who changed his middle name to that of his famous architect-father's, Frank, grew up in the business bouncing off his father's studio walls in Oak Park, Illinois. John at first rejected the notion of following in the trade but after moving to California and working side-by-side with his brother in a related field he understood he just had to follow his heart and began training under his dad. That led him back to Oak Park. Wanting to be out from under his father's shadow, John moved to Long Beach, Indiana in 1923. Long Beach was a resort community that developed along the Lake Michigan beach just north and east of Michigan City, Indiana. John created a home and studio, and more importantly, relationships with others for whom he would create home plans. John's work at first followed some of his father's styling with the Prairie influence, but after a trip to Europe he began to create his own mark on his architecture. John Lloyd Wright completed only about two dozen designs during his time in Indiana from 1923-1946, and only a few of those were not residential in nature. He created two schools, one in Long Beach and the other for Coldspring Township. The Long Beach school remains today. He also created probably his best known public work-the Long Beach Town Hall, which was recently restored. He created one apartment house, still existing in Michigan City, and a hotel for the Indiana Dunes, which was razed. All but one of his home designs were located in Long Beach, the one other was located in Michigan City and is still there.

Fire & Guard Station, KOP

Now, for the most part, I knew about his career in Indiana and about the handful of projects he created in Long Beach. But I didn't know that during the years of World War II John was contracted by the federal government to design buildings at the Kingsbury Ordinance Plant south of LaPorte.....in fact, I've yet to meet anyone who did know this. I found it listed in an early book written about his projects. So while the kids were home over spring break, and wanting to return to the Bass Pro Shop in Portage, we drove by way of Kingsbury and took a little tour. Once I turned off Highway 35 onto Hupp Road I saw the building pictured at the top and thought to myself-that has to be a John Lloyd Wright design. We saw a second smaller building (above) with the same design as well.

Finished ammunition storage warehouses, three of dozens at the KOP

If you've never driven through the former Kingsbury Ordinance Plant, I would highly recommend it. It is a relic of the war years that likely will soon disappear from the Hoosier landscape. Today it stands as a fading & eerie monument to those who served on the homefront, the Rosie Riveters of Indiana. My dad's parents both worked there during the war, but because of plant rules against husbands and wives working together my grandmother worked under her maiden name. With this new-found information on the plant's connection to John Lloyd Wright, I have a new appreciation for the place. John's drawings for his work at the "KOP" are archived with the Chicago Historical Society and I am planning a trip to get more information about his architecture remaining at the plant. As this project develops I will be sure to post more on JLW, KOP, and the other work he did at Long Beach.

Collide

Now this boy's got talent! Proud to say I know the face behind those ivory ticklers.

Here come the Irish

My Great Grandpa and Grandma “Lem” short for Lemuel and “Berthy” for Bertha, Crothers were my Grandma Hochstetler’s parents. They lived in a small old farm on the Saint Joseph County side of the Marshall/St. Joe County line, just west of Kenilworth Road. It was from their lines, solidly Irish, that I got my curs'ed curly hair. They were incredibly frugal, and seemingly strict. Their farm consisted of a working outhouse, chicken coop complete with chickens, an old barn, a windmill and well house, and an old house that from my recollection never had any paint on it. I remember going with my mom to visit them fairly often.

There was an old wood porch that led to the kitchen door. It had an old screen door that went “whap” and creeeeak. The inside of the home was straight out of the 1930s. I don’t believe that anything had been changed in the house during that time, including the wallpaper. Because they heated with a wood burning pot bellied stove in their living room, the whole house had that wonderful old smoky smell to it. Grandma Berthy would offer us candy….which was always those chewy orange circus peanuts. We would sit in the living room, quietly, around the stove. I remember grandpa always sitting in the same place at the end of a dark green couch from the 1950s. We weren’t permitted to look around the house. There was another room on the first floor that had a pair of French doors that always remained shut and I often wondered what was behind them. Once I caught a glimpse of shelves full of glassware. Nor were we ever allowed to go upstairs-to this day I have no idea what was up there. We were, however, permitted to go to the outhouse, because there was no indoor plumbing, or peek in at the chickens through an old door frame covered with chicken wire. A small mowed path through tall weeds led to the privy and coop.

Great Grandma Berthy always called us, early in the mornings, to let us know if we had a school delay or cancellation due to snow. I don’t remember much else, except I do remember their funerals. I believe it was Grandpa that died while I was staying with my Aunt Nell in Van Buren, and we had to return early for the funeral. They were in their early 80s when they died.