When Stevens Point became known as the “Gateway to the Pineries," it meant that the harvesting of the timber began north of Stevens Point. Sawmills were located in this city because of the excellent railroad connections and the Wisconsin River.
Two of the larger mills here were the John Weeks Lumber Company was located at the foot of what is now Portage Street, and the Clifford Lumber Company which was located in what is now Bukolt Park south of the boat launching ramp.
Both of these mills had their own timber cutting operations north of the city. There are no specific figures for the Clifford Company, but the John Weeks Company employed 100 men in the sawmill and 200 men in their forest cutting operations.
The lumberjacks would arrive at the lumber camps as soon as the ground froze and the first snows had fallen. Many of these lumberjacks were farmers who farmed during the growing months and headed to the camps after their harvest was completed, to supplement their income.
Tremendous amounts of logs would be cut during the winter season. The next big problem was to get these logs to the mills downstream. They had to be delivered that spring, if they were left another year, the logs would be infested with insects that would totally destroy the value of the logs for sawed lumber.
To transport by rail if such connections would have been available would have been too expensive. Hauling by wagon and team would have been too undependable because the roads in the spring were quagmires.
One avenue was left, the rivers, but they just couldn’t dump the logs in and let them float unattended, because of the bends and the currents they would be scattered all over the river banks.
The need was for someone to accompany and shepherd the logs, thus a very, very unique profession was born, the log-driving river pilot.
At first the lumber operators themselves tried with their own employees, to first float the logs down stream. This didn't prove to be successful too many logs were lost and men were injured or sometimes killed.
Soon another type of business came into existence, the river pilot companies. One man who headed up such a company was Cornelius Cook. He saw the problems the mills were having so he approached them guaranteeing them that he would get their logs delivered with the minimum amount of loss. He informed them that the cost wouldn't be cheap because he was going to hire the best men available and pay them a high wage. He obtained the contracts.
This is the story of one of those log driving river pilots, Anton J. Kawleski, my grandfather. When I was a youngster he used to tell me of his days on the river. If you will use your imagination we shall take a trip down the Wisconsin River with my grandfather and his colleagues.
Practically all of the river pilots were lumberjacks. After the winter cut was completed they became employees of the river pilot company. A river pilot would earn in one month as much as he did working three months as a lumberjack.
You had to have a combination of qualifications that only a handful of men could meet. The agility of a cat, an incredible sense of balance, the ability to make correct split second decisions or you could be injured or even killed, the endurance to work ten hours in partial or totally wet clothing, the stamina to be just as sharp in the aforementioned qualifications as you were at the beginning of the ten hours. This was all done on two meals a day and the reason for this will be explained later.
To float the logs adequately, there was the need for high waters. During the normal season the Wisconsin River was much narrower than we know it today. The DuBay Dam or the Consolidated Dam in Stevens Point were not in existence at this time. The river could be crossed at many points during July and August just using hip boots. However, the spring thaw and run off caused the river to become a raging torrent, and this is what was needed to transport the logs. It was for this reason that the Wisconsin River log drivers became known as “white water” river pilots.
The River Pilot Company would send out letters informing the pilots where and when to rendezvous for the first log drive. They would also find the logs in the water being held in by a boom. A boom was a floating retainer made up of squared logs linked together end to end by short lengths of chain, this was strung from shore to shore. They would find a log raft, with a wood-gabled framework, covered with canvas. Inside would be a cast iron cooking range, set in a box of sand, to prevent hot coals from starting the raft on fire. They would also find the supplies of food, for this is where the cook prepared the meals for the river pilots and other rivermen on the drive. The name of this cook raft was the "wanigan." It also served as a temporary office of the chief river pilot.
Sometimes the ice would still be firm under some of the logs in the holding pond. To break the ice under the logs dynamite charges would be detonated, this was another qualification river pilots had to have. This location would probably have been up one of the tributaries of the Wisconsin River.
The next day all would be in readiness. Everyone would be up and ready by daybreak. The cook would serve a large breakfast of fried potatoes, bacon, pancakes, biscuits, coffee or strong green tea. Everyone would then wash their own tin plate, cup and silverware.
The Crew of a log drive wash formed along military lines, divided into three elements, the forward party, the main body and the rear detachment. The forward would be about a mile ahead of the main body. They traveled in a boat pointed at the bow and stern and wide thru the center, it was known a "bateaux." The direction could be quickly changed by the oarsmen switching seats. Their job was to clear all obstacles such as deadfalls and to secure the night boom across the river, for the main body to stop. These booms were at strategic points on the river, usually at narrow areas, they were kept at the same spots on the river bank, one end secured permanently to a sturdy tree.
Prearranged, one or two of the farmers in the area would come with their teams of horses on the opposite bank, the forward party would tie a sturdy rope onto the boom chain, and take it across the river. The teams would pull the rope and chain across, with the sections of the boom, assisted by the crew with canthooks prying would float across the river. The chain was then secured around some trees on the opposite shore and the night boom was ready to receive and stop the log drive.
The main body consisted of the logs and the river pilots. Their job was to keep the logs together, not allow them to run up on each other. Their indispensable tool was the pike pole, which had a straight point for pushing a log and a curved point under the straight point for pulling a log. This point was mounted on a wooden pole about ten feet long, it also acted as an excellent balancing bar. To aid them in standing and stepping from log to log, they wore caulked boots, the caulks were similar to the spikes on golf shoes, only much longer and sharper. The common term used for them was “corks."
The rear detail consisted of the cook and helper and another "bateaux” with a crew that hooked any stray logs. Their job was to secure the boom to the shore after it was opened and the main body with the wanigan had passed through. The wanigan also carried the crews personal effects such as a change of clothing and their bed rolls. Tents were also carried for the crew to pitch on the river bank and sleep in at night.
After they had finished breakfast and the silverware was cleaned to the cook's satisfaction it was time for a full day's work. The forward party ate much earlier and had already left. The riverpilots would step onto the logs and take up their stations. Supervising the drive is the chief river pilot who stations himself where he has the best overall view of the situations. Commands are then given either by voice or by arm signals. He gives the command to ‘Open the boom.' The chains are released on one end of the boom, which enables it to flow with the current to the opposite shore, and the logs start moving.
Thus begins about ten hours of keeping the logs together, keeping them straight, pushing, prodding and pulling with the pike pole, at the same time maintaining your balance. Stepping from log to log you had to remember not to step directly on top of each log, avoiding stepping too close to the ends, so the end does not sink or roll under your weight. Each river pilot’s movements had to be exact or disaster would be immediate. Falling into the water between the logs, the river pilot could be seriously injured, drown or be crushed to death. Strong cross winds would cause the logs to drift towards the opposite river bank. Because the river was usually flooded over its normal banks, logs could get entangled between trees which were on the flooded banks. The rear party would handle these situations.
By the time the log drive would come to rest against the night boom, the clothing of the river pilot would be soaking wet from the spray of the water or one may have had a mishap in the water..
Now I hope you can understand why river pilots only had two meals a day, breakfast and the evening meal. The log drive could not be stopped for lunch, instead the river pilot might have a sandwich in his back pocket or sometimes a pocketful of dried fruit, but many times they were too busy to take even that much time to eat.
It is incredible the stamina these men possessed. They took pride in their profession and looked out for each other, both on the logs and off. They were the elite of the elite.
Now the first day's log drive is completed tents would be set up on the river bank and the bed rolls spread out. The wanigan is then secured and the cook shouts, “Come and get it." The men then line up for a well deserved and appreciated meal, probably of stew, salt pork or ham, biscuits, potatoes, coffee or strong tea, topped off with a large slab of raisin or mincemeat pie.
The cooks were miracle workers in the volume of appetizing food they could prepare on the wood burning ranges. The forward party would arrive and after the meal would join the rest of the crew in general conversation and also inform the river pilots of any developments down river, such as potential trouble spots to be aware of ahead of time. One of the crew would whip out a harmonica and provide some entertainment. The boots were given a dubbing of tallow and the points of the caulks were checked and filed if necessary. Eyelids would start drooping and very soon everyone was turning in for the night, the morning wake up would come very early. Their lullaby was the sound of the water gurgling between the logs.
No two days were ever the same for the river pilots, wind conditions, rain or late snow, sudden rise or dropping of the water, tricky currents, log jams, all these had to be anticipated and dealt with immediately. There were no radios so they had no weather forecasts, but living close to nature they could tell by the type of sunset, 'the direction of the wind or the behavior of the animals, what kind of weather to expect the next day.
Logjams could develop very quickly, all it took would be a log or two snagging on a underwater obstruction, turning crosswise, and the rest of the logs behind would start piling up. The dreaded word "LOGJAM” would be echoing would immediately secure dynamite that was kept in the rear detachment's extra bateaux, set charge as close to the “key log" as possible and blow the logs apart.
In earlier log driving the pilots would attempt to pry out the key log, but this was very dangerous, because if the key log was finally freed there was hardly enough time for the men to clear. Many lives were lost using this method. One logjam above Big Bull Falls which is now named Wausau, had logs piled 30 feet in the air and four miles up river. With the Professional river pilot companies this was not allowed to happen, dynamite was the answer. It not only saved lives but it saved time and time was of the essence because the high water would only last for a relatively short period of time.
Depending on the distance and the size of the log drive, the first drive would be arriving in Stevens Point in about four to five days. The forward party would have arrived the day before the main body to check the final boom, they would have their bateaux and equipment loaded on waiting wagons. The arrival of the first log drive would be an unofficial holiday in the city. People would line the riverbanks, waiting to catch sight of the logs and pilots. Usually it was early in the morning when the main body arrived, if there was a mist over the river. it would add to the silence of the pilots standing firmly feet spread and holding their pike poles at the balance.
The logs would enter the main boom at the foot of Main Street, river pilots would stop ashore their task completed. Saw mill personnel would then separate the logs according to the mill emblem stamped on the end of the logs. This emblem had been stamped on the ends of the logs with a sledgehammer, much as ranchers brand their Cattle, lumber companies marked their logs. My grandfather had one of these hammers for years on his farm with the letter "C" superimposed on the head that stood for the Clifford Lumber Company, my grandfather lumberjacked for them during the winter months. He also had worked for the Altenberg Lumbering operation near Dancy. My grandmother Veronica was a cook in their camp. She used to tell me of tremendous stacks of flapjacks she made every morning.
When the river pilot stepped ashore. he would deposit his pike pole on one of the waiting wagons and have a few hours in town. He might get a haircut, shave and get a bath in one of the public baths connected with the barber shop. He would then replenish his tobacco supply and have a few beers. Very rarely were they ever able to pay for their drinks everyone wanted the privilege to treat them. The people were very grateful to them for bringing in the logs, it meant jobs and prosperity, these logs were the life blood of the community.
Meanwhile the rear detachment were vacating the wanigan, loading the stove, supplies, canvas and the men's personal gear into the waiting wagons, the raft itself would be dismantled and the logs sawed into lumber. When everything was loaded, all personnel would get aboard and proceed nonstop to their next rendezvous and start all over again. The next logs would be put in auxiliary booms that were strung from the mills all the way to the present Platwood Club on Highway 10, some of the old boom anchor piers are still there underwater.
River pilots were a very close-knit group of men, they looked out for each other. No one ever trifled with a river pilot, if they did, one rake of the caulks across the shins was enough to take the starch out of anyone.
A novice lumberjack or river pilot was called a “tenderfoot." That is how he was addressed by the other men, he knew he had graduated when they started to address him by his first name or nickname.
Another breed of men that deserve mention were the raftsmen or “river rats." After the logs were sawed into lumber, most were shipped to St. Louis. The basic unit was known as a “crib." It was made of squared timbers, size was 16' by 32' with uniform holes along the sites, so the cribs could be pegged together to form a raft. Besides the lumber, bundles of shingles from the local shingle mills other rafts would be joined that had come down the Mississippi River, they would form one big raft and continue on the St. Louis. The average time from Stevens Point to St. Louis was 19 days.
The "river rat’s” life was very strenuous, the cribs would sometimes get stuck on the sandbars, which meant standing in the water and prying the cribs loose. Most of the men from this area would sign on to go as far as Prairie du Chien. Some of the rafts that left Prairie du Chien were so large that they contained enough material to build 125 houses. The cribs were dismantled at St. Louis and the timbers were sold.
My grandfather went on to become a prosperous farmer, owning two adjoining farms in the town of Eau Pleine on the River Road near Campbell's Bridge. All the years he spent on the river he never learned to swim. He used to tell me that he never learned to swim. He used to tell me that he took his share of dunkings, but his pike pole always kept him from going below the logs, sinking below the logs would give you no chance to surface.
My grandfather was born in Poland and came to the United States when he was 12 years old with his father, stepmother, who he was very devoted to, an older and a younger brother.
At the time he was going to school in Poland the country was under Prussian domination. The lessons would be given in Polish in the forenoon and German in the afternoon. In the US he learned English, so he was fluent in 3 languages. He used to chastise his countrymen for not learning to speak English, he maintained it is a person’s obligation to learn the language of the country where you live.
He was a man of great humor, and was a lover of pranks, whether he pulled them or they were pulled on him. His love of the US was tremendous, anyone who said anything against the country or the flag, were in for a blistering lecture. To miss an election would have been to him a cardinal sin. People would gather at the Town Hall, vote then bring up and exchange the latest news, it was a picnic atmosphere. I wonder what he would say to our present generation who don't vote or complain because the polling place is a little out of their way, I am sure they would receive a lecture that they would never forget.
My grandfather's heroes were George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy and Franklin Roosevelt. He was a staunch Democrat, however to classify him today I would consider him a very conservative Democrat. He was against government farm programs, he felt that as long as there were hungry people in the country, production should not be cut back. I remember one program that came out during the Depression, the price of pork fell so low that you could be paid to kill the piglets, he deplored this approach, and refused to sign into the program. Instead he said he would raise his pigs to maturity and if he couldn't get a decent price, he would give the meat to needy people and that is just what he did.
Raising and training draft horses was his hobby. he was a recognized expert on horseflesh and acted as an advisor to farmers when they went to select a team of horses. There were many fly by night horse dealers who would take advantage of people who weren't knowledgeable of what to look for in picking horses. Horse dealers soon discovered that when they saw my grandfather accompanying a potential buyer into their horse lot, they knew it was useless to try any deceit. His matched team would bring top dollar and were in great demand.
After the harvest was in he would buy livestock for the Gebert Livestock Company of Milladore, Wisconsin. In 1914 America began to prepare for war, the Gebert Co. was awarded a contract to buy draft horses for the US Army. Grandfather being an expert was certified as a US Army horse buyer. Realizing that he would be spending more time on the road, he decided to sell his adjoining farm. He then traveled throughout Central Wisconsin by horse and buggy and the railroad. He told me that the Army criteria was for a horse to be high spirited and no more then half trained, the Army wanted to finish the training themselves.
His philosophy of life consisted of two qualities, honesty and plain old common horse sense. He was a very charitable person, no one in need was ever turned away, he loaned money at a low interest, gave money and food to the needy. He just couldn't stand to see a child suffer, times were hard and money tight, parents just didn't have the funds for doctor bills or medicine. If he became aware of the situation, he would pay for the doctor and medicine. He paid for eyeglasses in one case for teeth extraction and dentures for a needy adult. He would not accept repayments but would tell the person, “Maybe you will have a chance to help someone someday." Never would he talk about his works of charity if someone brought it up in a conversation, he would get that sly mischievous grin on his face, shrug his shoulders and change the subject.
In the business community he was highly respected, I remember banking people coming out to the farm, sometimes working to seek advise on whether a certain person would be a good credit risk, if he felt they were okay the loan would be given. The kitchen table was his desk for transacting business, I was privy to many of these meetings, where by lamp light, a deal would be closed by a handshake, a man's word was his bond.
Phenomenal health was a reward he enjoyed, my mother or my older aunts never remember him being sick, even during the epidemics he never fell victim. He used to transport the doctor from farm to farm during the epidemics, that would allow the doctor to take a short nap between house calls. Sometimes the whole family was ill so he would do their farm chores and bring their supplies and medicines.
My grandfather’s greatest sorrow was the fact that they had three sons, none of them lived beyond 18 months. One of the sons died as a result of an accident involving a fire. Five daughters survived. The sole survivor was Mrs. Anna Trader, but she passed on, May 21,1990.
Grandmother Veronica passed away April 10, 1940, just one month short of their 48th wedding anniversary. Grandfather rented out the land and retired. He loved to walk along the riverbank, which was the east border of the farm, in quiet meditation, and visit with the fishermen at the bridge.
I hope someday the people of Stevens Point would see fit to put something in Pioneer Park to memorialize and honor these unsung men of valor, the river pilots and raftsmen who contributed so much to the beginnings of our city. The following lines in closing are most appropriate:
No river to wild