1Photo by: Sarah Ritter

2Western Illinois Magazine

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Letter from the Editor

Welcome to the Spring 2012 issue of Western Illinois Magazine. In our sixth issue, we chose the theme of “hidden treasures of western Illinois”. And hid-den treasures were definitely what we found. The amount of information that my fellow writers have found is nothing but overwhelming. There is so much past and present in this group of towns that really make them special. One of the reasons I am so interested in western Illinois is the small town aspect you get when you enter it. Every town has something special, some more than oth-ers. This magazine will be your journey through the west that you might have not known existed. This issue is filled with great photos, history and some myths. For example, Sarah Ritter photographed historic courthouses around western Illinois. Staff writer Sarah Tomkinson wrote about Macomb’s part in the Civil War while managing editor, James Needham investigated the controversy over the birth-place of Wyatt Earp in Monmouth. Contributor Bill Welt keeps with the trend and covers another Brewery, this time in Warsaw. Other stories include the scoop on defunct Carthage College by writer Alyse Thompson, a feature on artist Lorado Taft by writer Kelsey Wolfe and a look into the legend of “Cry Baby Bridge” with writer Alexa Zoellner. I invite you to take a few minutes and enjoy the new style, along with our sto-ries. I hope you appreciate all the hard work our writers and contributors have put forth as much as I do. And when you’re done, let us know what you think. We’re always looking for feedback and/or new story ideas. You can contact us at westernillinoismagazine@yahoo.comThank you,Reilly MaloneyEditor

Editor: Reilly Maloney

Managing Editor: James Needham

Art Director: Anthony Young

Staff Writers/PhotographersAlyse Thompson

Sarah RitterBill Welt

Sarah TomkinsonAlexa Zoellner

Jennifer WilsonMichelle Baranauskis

Kelsey Wolfe

Advertising Manager: Abigail Meads

Advertising Sales: Allison Johnston, Colleen Pratl

Business Manager: Jennifer Gorecki

Assistant Business Manager: Danielle Balbach

Distribution: Brandon Rusciolelli, Greg Pappas,

Samantha Maki

Advisers: Richard Moreno, Bill Knight

The only magazine in the world that gives a damn about Western Illinois

Vol.1 No.6

Contact Info:A Western Illinois Publication

1 University CircleMacomb, Il 61455

(309) 298- 1876, ext. 7westernillinoismagazine@yahoo.comWestern Illinois Magazine

Western Illinois Magazine

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Table of Contents

Lorado Taft’s Legacy Lives in Elmwood - 5by Kelsey Wolfe

Whatever Happened to Carthage College? - 6by Alyse Thompson

Fountain Green’s House of Dreams- 8by Sarah Ritter

The Legend fo Cry Baby Bridge - 10by Alexa Zoellner

Warsaw’s Castle on the River - 12by Bill Welt

Wyatt Earp Was Born Where? - 14by James Needhan

Macomb Newspapers Reveal the Real Civil War - 16by Sarah Tomkinson

Carl Sandburg Left Big Impression on Galesburg - 18by Jennifer Wilson

Listening for the Ghosts of Camp Ellis - 20by Sarah Ritter

Halls of Justice Can Be Places of Beauty - 22by Sarah Ritter

Local Grapes Served with Elbow Room- 23by Michelle Baranauskis

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West central Illinois is an area with strong agricultural roots. If people don’t look past the initial appearance, cornfields are all they will ever see. However, much more than corn has come out of the region. This area has given birth to many famously creative individuals. For example, the man who invented the Ferris wheel, George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr. and famous poet Carl Sandburg were both born in Galesburg. Famous jazz musician Al Sears was born in Macomb and actress Karen Allen, known for her role as In-diana Jones’s love interest, was born in Carrollton. Another famous individual that called West central Illinois home was world renowned sculptor, author and professor, Lorado Zadok Taft. Taft was born in Elmwood on April 29, 1860. He was the son of Don Carlos and Mary Lucy Foster Taft. He had three siblings when he was growing up, each with a rather unusual name. His brother’s name was Florizel and his sisters were Zulime and Turbia Docto-ria. Taft’s father came to Elmwood as a minister and started one of the first schools in the basement of a church. However, Taft’s mother taught Florizel and Lorado from their home. Accord-ing to Wanda Dement of the Lorado Taft Museum, he lived in Elmwood un-til he was about 6 or 7-years-old. Taft was a remarkable teen. He developed his interest in sculpting at just 14-years-old, then graduated college with a Master’s degree at just 19.Taft lived a long and fulfilling life as a sought after artist, and many sculptors accredited him as being their mentor. He died on Oct. 30, 1936 still working on a piece only a week before. Taft always maintained a connection with Elmwood because of friends in the area. In fact, his ashes lie in the Elmwood Township Cemetery surrounding his memorial. When he was alive, he wanted to give something back to his hometown, so he said he would donate a statue that he had envi-sioned if the town could come up with

the money for a granite base. To collect money for the base, Elmwood librarian Carol Inskeep said that grade school stu-dents in Elmwood made ‘golden rulers’ by collecting dimes and taping them to pieces of paper shaped like a ruler. The town pooled together over $15 thousand by hosting chicken dinners and other events. The result was “The Pioneers,” a sculpture in Elmwood Central Park, one of many marks that Taft left.In June of 2010, two tornadoes touched down in Elmwood and wreaked havoc

downtown. The tornadoes destroyed many buildings and trees in Elmwood Central Park, but “The Pioneers” re-mained standing. At Elmwood’s Lorado Taft museum, visitors can see a replica of Taft’s Chicago studio. Also in town at the Morrison and Mary Wiley library, is a bust of Taft and another of his father, Don Carlos. Lining one wall of the library is replica Taft sculpted of “The Frieze” from the Parthenon, an ancient temple in Greece. Taft was sought out to make pieces throughout the United States in multiple states, including New York, North Carolina, Colorado, Washington and

Oklahoma. A listing of Taft’s known works at the Lorado Taft Museum is 22 pages long. “He is known to have works in 48 states and overseas,” said Dement.Taft is also a big part of the history of another small Illinois town closer to the Wisconsin border. Taft became a part of history in Oregon (Ill.) after he formed the Eagle’s Nest Colony of Art-ists in 1898. The colony was made up of musicians, painters, poets, story tellers and sculptors. They decided to stay in the Chicago area after the World’s Fair in

1893. The Colony then met in Oregon. They would often look over a bluff to view the Rock River. This bluff is now a part of Lowden State Park where Taft’s 48 foot tall statue, “The Eternal Indian,” commonly referred to as “Blackhawk” stands. This sculpture is one of Taft’s most well known works. It is a reminder of the Native American people of Illinois and the Eagle’s Nest Colony, whose last member died in 1942.Though Taft was born long ago, his work is a legacy left for many to enjoy. For example, the Oregon Public Library houses the Eagle’s Nest Art Colony Col-lection upstairs. Many of the sculptures and paintings in the collection are works

of Taft, other members of the Colony or their students. Included in the collec-tion are two busts: one of Taft’s wife Ada Bartlett Taft and one of his daughters Mary Taft. Another Oregon trace of Taft can be found in front of the Ogle Coun-ty Courthouse. There stands the “Sol-dier’s Monument” that was dedicated on Sept. 4, 1916 and honors over 3,500 county veterans of the Civil, Spanish-American, 1812 and the Mexican wars. This monument was collaboration of Taft and Pond and Pond architects, two brothers from the Eagle’s Nest Colony, from Chicago. It has brass plates listing the names of Ogle County war veterans. Taft’s legend still lives through his sculptures, but also artists in the Oregon area. Local artist Jeff Adams grew up in Oregon always aware of the work that Taft has done. He worked at a foundry in Oregon back in high school before leaving for college in Arizona. There he studied English, but continued to make sculptures. Adams made his first serious piece in 1983. He said his work has changed over the years. “You did the best you could with what you knew at the time,” said Adams. “You can beat yourself up being overly critical.” One of Adams most recognizable works in Oregon is, “Paths of Convic-tion, Footsteps of Fate.” This sculpture in Oregon’s Mix Park portrays former President Abraham Lincoln and Native American warrior and leader Black-hawk. Adams has three public pieces in the Oregon area and 12 to 15 pieces regionally. How does Adams feel about carrying on the legacy of artists in the area? “It just seemed like a natural thing to continue the legacy Taft has started,” he said. Adams is a member of the Community Arts Legacy that’s goal is to erect one new sculpture every year for 7 years. For him he says that a quote from Taft really sums up his feelings: “The hometown is the dearest place on earth; why not make it more beautiful?”

Lorado Taft’s Legacy Lives in ElmwoodBy: Kelsey Wolfe

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Whatever Happened to Carthage College?

Near the edge of sleepy Carthage, four crumbling brick columns open up to the remains of Carthage College. A path running directly from the deteriorating entrance halves a mostly open field. It leads to nothing. Three sagging, boarded up buildings line the green expanse filled only by a few trees. It wasn’t always like this. During its heyday, hundreds of students studied in the college’s imposing academic halls, and the formerly Evergreen-lined path shep-herded visitors to Old Main, the college’s original building. After passing through the hands of time and several owners, the campus has transformed from the epicenter of Carthage to a symbol of a bygone era. Nevertheless, some life has returned to the rural campus with a long and enduring history.

The Birth of Carthage College The legend of Carthage College began in 1870. After two short stints in Hill-sboro and Springfield in the mid-1800s, the United Lutheran Church of America moved its Midwestern institution to Carthage at the insistence of the then-burgeoning town’s residents. “They (the Lutherans) were wanting to find one in the Midwest, and the Carthage people promised them the ground and money towards the building,” said Kim Nettles, president of the Kibbe Hancock Heritage Museum board. “Pretty much the same story as today — they got financial

incentive to put it here.” In the 1800s, the Lutheran church struggled financially, and according to Michael Lowe, a history graduate assistant at Western Illinois University, it could not refuse Carthage’s offer. “It was in some ways out of necessity,” Lowe said. “The money situation wasn’t great for the Lutheran church when it decided to do this. Carthage was kind of seen as this unique place of opportunity. The railroad was just being built there.”The railroad proved to be instrumental in the college’s development. Students from Wisconsin and the Chicago area eventually took the train to get to Carthage. This aspect, combined with Carthage’s location, made the town a favorable option for the Lutheran church. “The towns that are prominent today are not necessarily the towns that were prominent then,” Nettles said. “So, this was probably more of a center of gravity, and they (the Lutherans) were probably looking at ease of transportation and being equidis-tant from other important points.”Aside from its relation to other towns, the church also viewed Carthage as a place that would promote the one thing the college stood for: education. “The idea in higher education, from what I’ve read, at that time was that urban society — it was kind of a Gilded Age idea — can distract you and rural life, pas-toral life is more conducive to independent thought, relaxation and study, and Carthage was very much seen as a place like that,” Lowe said. “That was part of why the trustees decided to locate the college in Carthage.” Though the college was chartered

in 1870, classes were not held on the campus until after the Old Main was constructed in 1872. In the meantime, buzz built around the anticipated institution. “I’ve read a lot of newspaper ac-counts, and everyone reports all the positive, brilliant happenings of the college and this rapid expansion of the college, and as the ad-dendum they asked for money because they didn’t have the place built yet,” Lowe said. “It really did take two years, and Carthage citi-zens were really influential in that process.” During the two-year period, the college and Carthage hosted a cornerstone ceremony and parade in 1871 to celebrate the future school. The parade, reportedly attended by 5,000 people, included church officials and community members eager to show support for the college. “It was also the odd fellows and different citizen groups like that — local people who cared and thought that the edu-cation of Christian virtue but also education in the classical tradition would be great for the community,” Lowe said. “It would bring people into Carthage and make it a business center, hopefully, in addition to being a host for the college.”

At Carthage with Kibbe Similar to other institutions of the era, Carthage College gave its students a clas-sical education with courses in Greek, Latin and religious studies. Carthage’s means for educating its students was a little different, however. “Carthage was one of the first to establish set courses of study for students, like an entire curriculum for graduation,” Lowe said. “They had Biblical classes. I’ve read they often learned Latin and Greek, and they didn’t get a lot of New Testament lessons, but in their Greek classes they were reading the Greek version.” According to Lowe, Carthage added programs in science and engineer-ing in the early 20th century and a home economics program in the 1950s. One of the most prominent purveyors of this knowledge to both the college and Hancock County was Dr. Alice Kibbe. “She was a professor of botany at the college and came here at a time when there were not that many women in academia,” Nettles said. “She worked for the USDA during the Great Depression through the farm bureaus, and she wrote a book on

botany in Hancock County that is still the prime text for this area.”Kibbe, who began teaching at Carthage Col-lege in 1920, was interested in the scientific aspects of the county, but she also played another major role in western Illinois: historian. “She also believed in the history of Hancock County,” Nettles said. “She would show up at auctions and buy things. There is this vulnerable period between when stuff is just old junk and when it becomes a treasured antique. She would insert herself into that gap and buy these things sold on hayracks as just old junk and preserve that history.” Kibbe collected historical and sci-entific artifacts from western Illinois and all over the world. To share her treasures with both students and community members, Kibbe established and curated a museum in Carthage College in 1956. Those items are now located in the Kibbe Hancock Heritage Museum. “(The museum) was kind of just glorifying the community, making sure people know about the unique history of not just Hancock County, but the area of Illinois,” Lowe said. “It’s really interesting she wanted to found this broad-based, somewhat historical, somewhat scientific museum. Because her background was in science, you’d think maybe she’d want a specialized museum based on her interests, but she was looking for a wider community outreach, and it’s lived on pretty well.” Though her studies and commu-nity projects occupied much of her attention, Kibbe’s main priority was her students.“She was a real favorite with the students,” Nettles said. “She never married, but she was very dedicated to her students. She rented out rooms in her home to them, and when they would graduate, if they had done well, she’d just rip up the rent checks and hand them back to them.”In addition to housing them, Kibbe also took students to her native west coast each sum-mer. Packed in her little Model T, they would venture in search of knowledge and artifacts. Sometimes they were successful, which can be seen through things like the massive whale jawbone from Puget Sound still on display in the museum. Though she spent many years educating students about the science and history of the area, Kibbe also held a strong belief in reli-gion — one of the most important aspects of

Photos and Story By: Alyse Thompson

This building was part of the campus at Carthang College

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the college’s existence.“She was also devoutly Christian,” Lowe said. “There was no contradiction there for her. She thought the Christian part of Carthage’s founding was something that should be cherished and maintained. That was one of the central parts of who she was.”After 44 years in Carthage, Kibbe retired in 1964 and returned to Bellingham, Wash., to live with her sister. At that time, she donated her 160-acre property to Western Illinois University to be used as resource for stu-dents. Now designated as the Alice L. Kibbe Life Science Research Station, Kibbe is still impacting science students today.

A Saddening Shift

Ninety-four years after its incep-tion, everything changed for Carthage Col-lege. In 1962, Carthage’s Board of Trustees and church officials opened a second campus in Kenosha, Wisc. operating under a “dual-campus” system for a while. But eventually, the church and the board could not and did not want to support two campuses.“The Lutheran church opened another college in Wisconsin, and then by the 60s, they were essentially having to do some con-solidation,” Nettles said. “They had to make a choice between the location in Wisconsin and the location in Carthage.” They chose Kenosha. The Car-thage campus closed in 1964, and according to an account by professor Tom Noer, nearly all faculty and students transferred to Wis-consin that fall. Though difficult, the cash-strapped Lutheran church and Carthage’s board closed the Illinois campus for many reasons. “They (the officials) wanted to have a nicer campus, they wanted to charge more for enrollment,” Lowe said. “Carthage was already not accessible. It wasn’t included on bus routes any longer, and it became harder and harder for students from popular areas to actually get out to Carthage, and that’s one of the major reasons why enrollment was dropping.”Despite the decrease in enrollment, many students were not happy with the final deci-sion. Members of the student council and others sent letters to administrators protest-ing the decision prior to the closure but to no avail.“I can’t imagine how awkward it would be for people who had finished their sopho-more year at the Carthage campus and went over to a new one,” Lowe said. “I know a lot of people had to do that.” A lot of the student base was local, and they were not fond of the decision,” he added.

Dr. Kibbe was also unimpressed by the reso-lution to move Carthage. Each Christmas, she wrote letters to students she liked and remembered, and the correspondence, writ-ten in verse, echoed her dissatisfaction.“She was vehemently opposed to the college being moved out of Carthage,” Lowe said. “(For her) it was a perfect place to locate a school.”Kibbe also refused to let the college keep her vast collection of natural and historical artifacts.“When the decision (came) to merge the Illinois college and the Wisconsin college and move everything up to Wisconsin, Dr. Kibbe oh-so-gently reminded them that all this material was on loan,” Nettles said. “She hadn’t given it to the college, so she took it all back and then started the museum in her own house.”Like Kibbe, the people of Carthage were devastated by the move. Howard Perry, a long-time resident of Carthage, remembered when the college first left the community.“We were of course very upset about them leaving, because we had many faculty and employees here who worked at the college,” Perry said. “It was a blow to the economy when they left. Not only (did it harm) the economy of the county, but also we had a lot of events happening at the college that people attended, and we really miss that. It was quite a change in our environment here when it left.” Undoubtedly, the college’s sudden absence greatly impacted the community. According to the same account by Noer, Carthage College, the largest employer in the county at the time, pumped approximately $3 million into the municipality each year. “(The closure) hindered all growth in the area,” Lowe said. “I know that local busi-nesses were dependent on this fairly sizeable student body, and it ceased to exist imme-diately, and I think it probably would have been a really tough time for local businesses, and I think that reflects how large Carthage is now. Maybe it would have been a lot larger by now if the college had stayed.” Nevertheless, Lowe did not think the Lutheran church deliberately harmed Carthage.“As far as the move to Kenosha, it seems to me like it was something the Lutheran church was very committed to making the move, not necessarily at the expense of Carthage as a city, but I think nonetheless that’s what happened,” Lowe said. “I think they were trying to add to the prestige of the college.”

Moving On

The campus did not stay vacant for long. In April 1965, Carthage sold the campus to Robert Morris Community Col-lege for $1.1 million. Jan Holtman, former president of the Hancock County Historical Society and school nurse at Robert Morris College from 1981-1988, said the town’s residents were re-lieved another college took root in Carthage. “When it had been Carthage Col-lege, that a lot of the community had donat-ed money to establish Carthage College and were really glad then to see when Carthage College left that Robert Morris took over be-cause there was a financial investment in the community over the generations,” Holtman said. While in Carthage, Robert Morris offered medical assisting and dental assist-ing programs as well as concentrations in business and secretarial to its diverse student body. But like Carthage College, Robert Morris closed its doors in July 1989 and headed to Springfield in search of more op-portunity. “I think they just saw potential in a bigger city,” Holtman said. “A lot of the students from Robert Morris were from the Chicago area, and probably transportation and probably they could get bigger numbers. They really did grow when they were in Springfield.” After only 24 years, the people of Carthage were heartbroken once more.“I think the reaction was some anger and probably some grief related to that loss to the community,” Holtman said. Following Robert Morris’ depar-ture, the city unsuccessfully attempted to get local institutions such as Carl Sandburg College and Western Illinois University to occupy the campus. In the 1990s, however, yet another group assumed the property. A Korean Pres-byterian organization purchased the campus

with the aim to train students in missionary work. It was soon discovered its intentions were less noble than they seemed. “When I moved here in the late 90s, it was really bizarre,” Nettles said. “The campus had been sold to a Korean Christian cult. I guess it was around ’99 that it was discovered on their website that they had caretakers here, but they didn’t care-take. They didn’t mow the lawns or anything, but if you went to their website, they were claim-ing that they opened up this college. They had taken photographs and done really bad Photoshop. It was essentially a scam to raise money to support this non-existent college.” Eventually, the Korean group left Carthage, and the campus remained empty until Prarieland Investment Group, formed by swine consultation company Carthage Veterinary Service, purchased it in 2007. After years of misuse, though, the campus needed serious restoration. “Ultimately, they sold it four or five years ago to the Carthage Veterinary Service,” Nettles said. “They had to knock down a number of buildings that were just simply unstable. It was amazing that no one was ever injured in some of them.” Carthage Veterinary Service restored Anthony Hall — one of four remaining original buildings. The building houses staff for the veterinary service and its affiliate, Professional Swine Management. The site also functions as a training facility for members of the swine industry. And in spite of the campus’ tumultuous past, Perry is pleased it is still fulfilling its original purpose. “We are very happy now to have some activity out there on that campus,” Perry said. “The veterinarians that purchased that campus are taking good care of it. We’d like to see the veterinarians continue the program where they train people to man-age and work in their swine confinements around the state of Illinois. It’s being used even today for educational purposes.”

Six white columns stand at the entrrance to what was once the Carthage College gymnasium.

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Fountain Green’s House of Dreams The power and the majesty of architecture is something that I have never been able to explain or un-derstand fully. There is some-thing spiritual about a strong structure that has withstood the test of time and stands as a constant reminder of the past. About four years ago, I was out on a country drive with mom on a Saturday afternoon. We have always enjoyed traveling through small towns and look-ing for something interesting to photograph. On this par-ticular day, our sense of adven-ture led us to Fountain Green. This small township is located in Hancock County, about 11 miles northeast of Carthage. I had heard stories about the town being primarily known for the large salvage yard that stands at the heart of town, Squires Auto and Salvage. It is most definitely the first thing a visitor will notice when they drive into town. Its idiosyncra-sies captured my curiosity, and we pulled off the main road to explore our surroundings.

Just behind the broken and battered automobiles with-in the salvage yard sat the most beautiful historic home I have ever seen. I immediately fell in love with this piece of archi-tectural history. The exterior of the house appeared to be in

remarkable condition. Detailed trim work, man-made bricks and original glass were both still in place. While the house has obviously deteriorated from time and wear, it is not difficult to see how impeccable it was in its prime. I walked up to the front porch and peered through the windows. The interior of the home had not held up as well as the outside. The main floor had begun to fall in and the interior structure was weak and decaying. It was obvious to me that the home was more than 150 years old, so I was not surprised at its condition. What did surprise me was how well the home had maintained itself, even if the floor had finally begun to collapse. I accredit a great deal of its strength to the fact that the house was built by true craftsmen with care and

artistic consideration. I couldn’t help but wonder who lived within these walls. What secrets did they hold? Who were the people who made their lives in this home?

I stood staring at this mansion and wondered what other people think when they first lay eyes on it. Some call it the Fountain Green man-sion, but in my eyes it is so much more than a building. This symbol of history deserves much more recognition. I feel that a home so steeped with un-told stories deserves a name as endearing as the tales I found it held. I think I will just call it “dream house.”

After spending several years photographing “dream house” and admiring every

noticeable detail, I felt com-pelled to seek out the man who was responsible for it. During my research I discovered that Kendrick Leach began the con-struction of “dream house” in 1862, before the outbreak of the Civil War. Its construction was briefly halted but resumed and completed in 1863. Leach was a veteran of the Spanish-Ameri-can war and served as a Justice of the Peace for 28 years. His-torians have described Leach as a staunch republican who was proud of his beliefs, with a strong scientific mind and a bold personality. He was well-known for building and owning the most beautiful and costly residence in Fountain Green. Leach and his wife, Mary Jane Read, had seven children together. All of their children were born in the Fountain Green township, some in the very house they lived in.

Leach lived a long and prosperous life with his family and inevitably passed away in the dream house he built. His daughter Cecelia Leach later married Wilfred Miller Jack-son in 1898. They continued to live in “dream house” and had one daughter, Ida C. Jackson. When W.M. Jackson became ill, his daughter Ida stood by his side and cared for him until he passed on.

Photos and Story By: Sarah Ritter

Front view of the Fountain Green Mansion

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Following the death of both of her parents, Ida continued to live in “dream house” and helped to own and operate the family farm upon completion of her schooling. She spent the rest of her life in Fountain Green. She became well known for her writings in the Macomb Daily Journal, The Hancock County Journal Pilot and the LaHarpe Quill. Ida was also an active member of the Fountain Green Presbyterian Church and was admired and appreciated for her dedication to communi-

ty service and charitable work. Ida C. Leach passed away at the McDonough District hospital in 1997 at 86 years old.. While she was still liv-ing, Ida sold the family farm to a local farmer in LaHarpe. He purchased the farm land roughly 32 years ago and did not acquire the rights to “dream house” until about 15 years

ago. During the first 16 years of owning the farmland, he said that Ida still lived in “dream house” and owned the rights to it. After Ida passed away, he became the owner of “dream house” and was faced with the challenge of undoing years of neglect to the home. I caught up with the farmer to interview him, but he declined to be iden-tified. “There is a lot of history in that house,” said the farmer. It is obvious that he

cherishes “dream house” for all of the history and memories it represents. Unfortunately, “dream house” has been slowly losing its structural stability for the last 100 years. It would take hundreds of thousands of dollars to gain stability in the foundation and to make the house livable again. “It breaks my heart that

I haven’t acquired the funds to restore it,” said the farmer. “No one wants to see that house in its original condition more than I do.” When he first gained the rights to the house, he began to take small steps to restore the home and care for it as he was able to. He installed a few new windows and began to store some things inside the home. One of the challenges the farmer had to face in the process was the constant battle against vandals and thieves. “I was constantly fight-ing break-ins,” he said. “People would violently break into the house just to see inside it.” As a person who greatly admires this classic home and appreciates the history and the lives that were made there, it is unimaginable to me that any-

one would have the audacity to harm such a magnificent struc-ture. I have made it a personal project to photograph “Dream House” as often as I have the opportunity. Before I ever heard the history of the home, I knew that it had a remarkable past just from gazing at it. It’s more than the mere appearance of the home; it is the essence of history and American culture it exudes. The greatest way local residents, architectural admirers and historians can help to appreciate beautiful structures like “Dream House” is to preserve them in our own way. Rather than give into a persuasive and foolish sense of curiosity that encourages us to become vandals and trespass-ers, challenge your mind and your senses. Pay tribute to the past with integrity; I prefer to do so through the written word and photography.

View of the interior of the house

An old high-heel belonging to a previous owner rests on the back porch.

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The wind whistled, rustling leaves, and I looked behind me yet again, the feeling that somehow, someone would be there that time, overwhelming me. But, as expected, there was no one there. I was still alone. I turned back towards the bridge and raised my camera. The shutter clicked as I snapped another picture.

It’s a small bridge, a bit more than 10 feet wide, located in Monmouth about 10 minutes off of U.S. Route 67. It sits just inside the woods at the bottom of a steep gravel hill, and despite its proximity to the highway, it’s extremely secluded. “Cry Baby Bridge,” it’s called, and it’s one of many with that name scattered across the United States.

The name is what drew me to it in the first place. “Cry Baby Bridge” is an eerie name for sure, and it has a couple of dark legends to go along with it.

When asked, 22-year-old Mon-

mouth native Peter Byrne told me two tales, neither of which, Byrne later added, he believes.

The first tale was of a young woman who had a baby out of wedlock. Supposedly, she was unable to handle it, went to the bridge and dropped her baby over the side. Since then, if you go to the bridge and listen closely, you can hear screaming.

Personally, I’ve always preferred not to believe in ghosts, at least not the kind that haunt. Although, that hasn’t stopped me from flip-flopping at times. That’s always been, at least in part, due to the fact that I’ve never in my life been a fan of the dark and not believing in ghosts gives me one less thing to be afraid of.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the total lack of cell phone signal that I was pretending not to notice, but, like By-rne, I chose to chalk up the sounds I heard to the wind. During the hour or so that I was there, I never did hear anything that could be considered ‘screaming.’

What I did hear was a lot of crunching leaves and creaking branches – all sounds that fit perfectly in a forest on a windy day in mid-March – or with someone sneaking up behind you, which is probably why I kept looking over my shoulder every few minutes.

The second story Byrne told was marginally less believable. He said that a school bus full of children went over the side of the bridge and the kids, along with the driver, died.

While I certainly believe that a school bus would crash if it tried to drive down that hill, I can’t think of any real reason for a bus full of kids to be anywhere near the bridge in the first place. Add to that the fact that the average school bus is about eight feet wide (verses the 10 foot wide bridge), the improbabilities just keep adding up.

The Legend of Cry Baby Bridge

Story and Photos By: Alexa Zoellner

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Both tales lend to the phenom-enon of the moving car, which, by the way, was the first thing I tried when I arrived. The story says that if you drive out to the middle of the bridge and put your car in neutral, the car will roll forwards or back-wards off the bridge. Then, if you get out of your car and sprinkle baby powder on your bumper, you’ll see baby handprints on it.

Depending on which story you believe, the handprints are those of either the ghosts of the children that died or of the baby that was murdered.

Byrne, who has been to the bridge multiple times, told me about when he tried this. “The car moved like an inch forward. But it’s because the bridge isn’t even.”

When I tested it out myself, my car rolled forward and completely off the bridge. I had done my best to position my car in the middle of the bridge, and when the car started moving almost right away, I couldn’t help but start to laugh. I thought it was hilarious that it actually worked. Although, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Byrne had told me the bridge was uneven, I would probably have completely freaked out.

I kept laughing even as my Jeep neared the end of the bridge and started gaining speed. I had to put my foot on the brake so I wouldn’t roll off the bridge too fast. Once I was off the bridge I turned my car back on and drove a little ways down the gravel road to where it was flat and parked.

I grabbed my camera and went to take a better look at the bridge. After snap-ping a few pictures from a distance, I went to take some close-ups.

One of the first things I noticed was the graffiti that decorated the metal beams. The second thing I noticed was that while I hadn’t bothered with baby powder, others obviously had. I found two clear, white powder outlines of what I assumed were car bumpers. After taking a few pic-

tures of the outlines, I looked at the rest of the bridge and the surrounding area.

I think the most nerve-wracking part of my visit was when other people actually did show up. They came from the opposite direction of the hill and parked a ways back. They stayed in the car for a few minutes. The group finally got out of the car just as I headed under the bridge.

Taking pictures was how I spent the majority of my time at “Cry Baby Bridge.” I tried to shoot from as many angles as I could, including under the bridge. That part was tricky.

Since the bridge was right near the bottom of a hill, once I stepped off the road, it got a little steep. I had to exchange my flip-flops for boots so I could get down and back up without falling.

Once I was off the road, I lost sight of the group. I had to stick to one bank because there was water in the creek.

I found that the bottom of the bridge and the stone supports were just as covered with graffiti as the metal beams up top. I spent 10 minutes there before heading back up to the road.

Once there, I looked around and realized that the people I had seen were no-where to be found. Their car hadn’t moved though. I scanned the surrounding woods a bit, but I didn’t even hear them. It was a bit disconcerting, but they had just disap-peared. I shrugged it off and packed up. I couldn’t help but think about how I was glad I hadn’t come at night, even though nighttime is the preferred time to witness a haunting. As I drove away, I reflected on my experience and what Byrne had said to me about believing the legends. He had told me that "if they think it's a joke I agree with them. If they believe it, I think they're a little gullible." I myself am rather skeptical, but that doesn't make my experience in the area any less spooky.

Crybaby Bridge is also a popular place for graffeti

Side view of the crybaby bridge.

White powder lies on the road, evidence of past visitors testing out the therios

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Warsaw’s Castle on the River

Behind the abundant trees and shrubs along Warsaw Road sits a large, archaic castle. The Warsaw Brewing Corpora-tion calls this strange relic home.Owner Jay Melvin bought the building and its surrounding property in 1992, despite the massive restoration it needed. According to Melvin, all of its multiple roofs had caved in and its brick surface had badly dete-riorated. Melvin, a Bushnell native, said he purchased it during an auction bid because he always saw it when he boated on the Missis-sippi River. However, he did not start restoration until 2004. The project required him to pour most of his retirement savings into the building. Melvin esti-mated the endeavor at over $1 million. Melvin converted the abandoned castle into a restau-rant/bar, which opened in 2006. Currently, his wife Pam runs the operation as general manager. Melvin said his business started off great. During the first two years, he looked forward to converting the dilapidated bottling house connected to the castle into a beer garden and microbrewery for dark ales and lagers. However, the surround-ing area was hit hard by the reces-sion. For Melvin, business hasn’t been the same. “We still wanted to have

one more floor (for the) restaurant and then the upper floors were all going to be real nice and fancy hotel rooms for people who didn’t want to drive three hours away and just want to come out and eat and drink for a night,” he said. “And that never happened, either.”He said there had been five ma-jor factory closings in the area, estimating he has retained only about 1/8 of the customers he once enjoyed. “The summers aren’t too bad, but before, it was busy all the time,” Melvin said. “We’re just lucky that we’re still open.”Nonetheless, Melvin said he has enjoyed operating the his-toric landmark, which started as a brewery during the first stages of the Civil War. The castle was built near Warsaw in 1861 to mimic the German castles that line the Rhine River. According to Melvin, the location of the brewery appealed to founder Rudolph Giller and his family because it reminded them of their German homeland.“I guess they (the Gillers) said that this section of the Mississippi River reminded them of all the old castles on the Rhine River in Ger-many, and that’s how they picked it,” Melvin said.He noted that the castle’s architect, Bernard Barthel, made similar breweries in the Midwest. “I looked at a brewery in Burlington, Iowa and there’s also a brewery in St. Paul, Minnesota,” he said. “If you look at them, the architecture is almost identical to this. It’s kind of neat.”

Melvin said the Giller family oper-ated the brewery until the Prohi-bition era. They introduced malt liquor called “near beer” to the brewery, as well as other products such as root beer in 1920 – how-ever Melvin suspects they did not stop producing their regular beer altogether. “There’s actually a tun-nel that goes from the river to the brewery, but it’s all caved in, and I

think they were bootlegging booze out of there too,” he said. And according to a Quincy newspaper report, federal agents seized an illegal shipment near Quincy, forcing the brewery to shut down in 1924. “Then the funny thing is that family, the Giller family, had purchased ground in Arkan-sas years before, so they moved

By: Bill Welt

Frontview of the warsaw Brewery (Photo by Alysa Thompson)

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down to Arkansas after they got in trouble with the government,” Melvin said. “They hit oil in the ground, so they were back with money again.” The brewery remained closed until 1935 when Oscar W. Ellis of Moline reopened it. Ellis introduced lagers Burgemeister and Old Tavern to the brewery. Ellis’ brewery peaked in 1965 with approximately 50 employees and sold products in the states of Texas, Missouri, Kansas and Iowa. However, the brewery closed again in 1972, and hasn’t produced beer since. But Melvin remains hopeful he will be able to change that.“Soon as there is money available,” he said.

Locals watch sports and enjoy the atmosphere at the old brewery. (Photo By: Alyse Thompson)

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Wyatt Earp Was Born Where? By different accounts, Wyatt Earp was either born in a house that stands in the western Illinois town of Monmouth as today’s Wyatt Earp Birthplace Museum, or in a different house in the burg that no longer exists. In fact, it seems the conversation around the geographic pinpoint where his umbilical cord was detached is just as divided as recollections of the man himself.

Throughout history, Wy-att has been depicted as both a benevolent island and a crooked scoundrel. He played both the role of a ruffian wrangler and a brothel doorman. Like nearly everything involving Wyatt, the address where Virginia Earp gave birth to her fourth child is as controversial as the bushy mustached legend.

“The real bottom line is that little in this controversy advances our knowledge of Wyatt Earp significantly,” wrote William L. Urban, Lee L. Morgan Professor of history and inter-national studies at Monmouth College. Since the 1980s, the 72 year-old has argued that the now dilapidated house at 406 South 3rd Street–Wyatt Earp’s Birthplace Museum–might not actually be the place where the last man standing at OK Corral was born on March 19, 1848.

Professor Urban’s claims sit in an uncomfortable juxta-position to the years of research and journey to validate the home as the locale where the crying baby icon came into existence by Melba Matson. Matson is a previ-ous owner of the home, and has become a supporting spokesper-son for the museum.

Both sides make compel-ling arguments. The issue, how-ever, remains a sore point in the small community. In fact, Profes-sor Urban and Mrs. Matson both declined to be interviewed for

this article.

In previous interviews and online postings, Urban has repeatedly refuted Matson’s claim to the badge wearer by pointing to the fact that the cornerstone of her argument lies atop oral history. On Monmouth College’s website, he represented the spo-ken recollections of the birthplace as a sort of unraveling web of contradicting memories.

“Lawyers and historians are trained to mistrust memories, especially when the teller has an

emotional or monetary stake in the tale,” he wrote. “The oral tes-timony (about the house) is too contradictory and contains too many inaccuracies to be conclu-sive.”

Urban also looked to 1956 newspaper articles from the Monmouth Daily Review Atlas for clues. The research proved to surface some other indications that Earp was born in a room that no longer exists.

“The birthplace site became a community issue only after the TV show starring Hugh O’Brian as Wyatt Earp became wildly popular,” Urban wrote. “Then came a claim by Wil-liam Stratton that his house at 406 S. 3rd Street ‘might be the early house of the Nicholas Earp (Wyatt’s father) family.’ (The next day), Roy Buckley (Monmouth resident) called to say that George B. Earp had said a house once at 213 S. 3rd was the birthplace site, though it had been moved to 913 S. 6th and B.L. Gillette said that Frank Earp had stood right at its original site and pointed to where it had been.”

For as many that have claimed that the original birth house no longer exists, there are those that support Matson and the current museum. In her July

By: James Needham

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2007 blog, western author SJ Reidhead does so without reser-vation.

“She has papers, deeds, notes and the like going back to 1929. She also has authenticated family papers, letters, statements indicating that Wyatt, indeed was born at this location,” she said. “This should be enough to satisfy even the most persnickety of college professors and their local editorial associates, but evidently not in the case of the Wyatt Earp Birthplace Museum.”

So what of Matson’s 13 years of research in building a case for the home? Among other things, the authentication of the

birthplace consisted of a list of state, county, and local organiza-tions that have documented the structure. It also included some tax papers that suggested the size of the dwelling at the time of Earp’s birth was consistent with his own description of it in his unpublished autobiography. Matson also had both written and oral accounts from some of Wyatt’s relatives.

“First cousins of Wyatt Earp were told Wyatt’s birthplace home was the home of his father’s sister, Elizabeth “Betsy” Earp (Greenberry) Ezell. First cousin Alfred Earp of Monmouth, four years younger than Wyatt, also told other relatives where Wyatt

was born,” Matson wrote. “The cousin’s affidavits of the birth-place home are at the Birthplace, along with affidavits of neighbors. An old-timer’s letter told that Wyatt’s family also lived in the home before they moved west.”

Matson has reinforced the validity of the site by stat-ing that the National Register of Historic Places includes the home in its listing.

“The 1999 National Reg-ister listing includes the words ‘Wyatt Earp was an internation-ally famous lawman who was born at the Pike-Sheldon House on March 19, 1848 in Monmouth, Illinois . . . .’ This home is at 406 South 3rd Street and is now a Historic House Museum open to the public,” wrote Matson.

However, it should be noted that the house appears on the register for its architectural significance, not for its tie to Earp.

In addition to George

Earp’s claim that the real de-livery room was one that had been moved to a different street, Weldon Earp, the great grandson of Wyatt’s Uncle, and his wife Beverly insisted that what today stands on S. 3rd could not be the correct site since it did not match a city map from the era of Wyatt’s exit from the womb.

“There was a house there, a one-room log cabin with a loft.

The woman took in washing and her husband, Greenberry, was dying of consumption,” Beverly said in a Sept. 1999 article of The Hawk Eye, a Burlington, Ia. news-paper.

At the fulcrum of the set-to seesaw lies an undisputed reality: no matter what address Wyatt Stapp Earp was born at, it was here in the municipal borders of Monmouth that the contest-able constable first saw the world around him 164 years ago. That’s something even those with an emotional investment in the house can take to the bank.

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Dr. Bob Welch has taken on the task of going through the archives of the Macomb Eagle and Macomb Journal from 1860 through 1865 to see what life was like in Macomb during the Civil War. Each week, he lists the articles of 175 years ago to the date in the McDonough County Voice. Welch was asked by the Historic Preser-vation Ordinance of Macomb to take on the project in cel-ebration of the 175th anniver-sary of the War.

Macomb is now a prominent town in the west-ern region of the state with over 20,000 people calling it home. The now county seat has been in existence since 1830 and holds the main campus of Western Illinois University. It has all the little charms of a typical Midwest-ern place: locally owned hair salons and restaurants, small car dealers, a quaint square lined with unique stores and historic markers.

In the middle of the town lies Chandler Park, named after Civil War veteran C.V. Chandler, who was in-

jured in the Battle of Chicka-mauga. Also on the Macomb Square is a marker for a barbershop owned by William Ball, an African American Civil War veteran.

These two things are just glimpses into Macomb circa the Civil War age, but nothing paints the picture quite like old newspaper ar-chives.

During that time, Ma-comb Journal was the Repub-lican based newspaper and the Macomb Eagle was Democrat-ic and a more dominant voice of the town. The two papers were based on the square with the Journal on the east side and the Eagle on the west.

Welch noticed a dif-ference in style and content. The Journal would pull articles and quotes from the Quincy Herald and Whig, the closest large market Republican pa-per. Welch said that since the Journal was the smaller paper, it tended to be louder and would say things without the consideration of being sued, where as the Eagle was more calmly written. The two papers did not live harmoni-ously and sent verbal attacks

to each other every week.

“They were in a con-stant cat fight,” Welch said.

Both Welch and West-ern Illinois University Profes-sor of History Tim Roberts felt that Macomb’s citizens got their outlooks from reports of other areas of the United States from the papers. It was common to see articles from Pittsburg, Chicago and New York in them.

Race was a major issue that was covered on a regular basis by both papers. Back in 1860, only 8 African-Ameri-can citizens were recorded to be living in Macomb.

“Macomb is close to Missouri border and the

Underground Railroad ran through the town,” Welch said. “It was the hot topic of the year.” In his findings, Welch even came across an article in the Eagle that used the “n–word” over 20 times

Roberts said that since the people of Macomb didn’t deal with African-Americans, they got a skewed look on the issue of race. Another thing both pa-pers did was post letters from home. To the citizens, this was the only way they knew what was going on.

“Obituaries and letters from home were luxuries to them,” Roberts said. “People may or may not have heard from their family in the war.”

Macomb Newspapers Reveal the Real Civil WarBy: Sarah Tomkinson

Credit: WIU Special Collection

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Welch came across is-sues of the papers that would have letters that stated how the troops in certain camps were doing fine and everything was going swell, and then underneath them would be an obituary of a soldier at the same camp.

“I’m fascinated by my findings,” Welch said, “It’s not always what’s in the papers, but what’s missing from the papers that makes this project interesting.”

Welch referred to when the first soldiers left Macomb to fight in the war.

“It’s a textbook fact that around a thousand people went to the train station to send off the soldiers. Neither paper made any recognition of it.” Roberts said.

He was surprised by this fact since the Journal seemed to publish everything else about the war.

Along with the lengthy editorials about the war, poli-tics and letters from home, the newspapers still had to cover local news. Articles about lo-cal harvests and news about local crimes and events were abundant.

“The newspapers would give different sides to crimes, so details that would show up in the Journal would be missing in the Eagle and vice versa,” Welch said.

Some major events that happened included a measles outbreak that killed fifty chil-dren in McDonough County and stabbings.

“It was part of life in the 1800’s. There was no way to stop the events and out-breaks,” Welch added.

Welch enjoys doing his research and hopes to con-tinue the project through the return of the soldiers. His goal is to try and make the Civil War personal for the current citizens of Macomb.

“I hope people read my findings and see the name of relatives or ancestors,” he said. “(My research) has helped make the civil war local.”

Welch’s research shows how hard the Civil War hit Macomb. Opinions, facts and battle stories all found their way, at some point in time, into one of the two newspa-pers. Without the newspaper

archives, Macomb would have probably been seen as a small town with little to no issues as a result of the war.

This was certainly not the case. In fact, Roberts said one out of every seven people in Macomb went away to fight for the Union.

Although the war was 175 years ago, Macomb still has a few signs from the war, whether a marker, a collection of letters from home or the tombstone of a soldier. As it turns out, Macomb was im-pacted more than these signs show. The Civil War wasn’t just a war in southern states or in the east and it wasn’t just the war for slavery. It was the people’s war. It was Macomb’s war.

Credit: WIU Special Collection

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Carl Sandburg Left Big Impression on GalesburgOne cannot escape the al-lure of Carl Sandburg when visiting Galesburg. From streets to shopping malls to a community college, more than a few places in the area have taken their name from the famous writer.Traces of Sandburg’s legacy can still easily be found throughout the city. Sand-

burg’s story begins the same way as many others in both past and present times—with the railroad.The railroad has been in-strumental in the history of Galesburg, and it was the railroad that initially brought Sandburg’s parents together. His mother worked at a

hotel in Bushnell for rail-road workers and his father worked for CB&Q Railroad. According to Rex Cher-rington of Galesburg who has studied Sandburg, “They met and had a whirlwind courtship and decide to marry. They decide that they would rather settle in Galesburg, and they lived

on East Third Street where Sandburg was born January 6, 1878. The railroad figures significantly into the fact that Carl Sandburg was born in Galesburg.”The house on East Third still stands as part of the Carl Sandburg Historic Site, which allows visitors

to tour the house, see the visitors center and museum and stand at Remember-ance Rock where the ashes of Sandburg and his wife are buried. A stone pathway through the garden leads visitors on a journey through Sandburg’s life through memorable quotes from his writing.

Galesburg was in ideal place for Sandburg to experience a thriving community with different cultures. “His fam-ily got here at a really inter-esting time,” Cherrington said. “It was just growing by leaps and bounds, so it was a pretty exciting place when he was growing up here. Carl

Sandburg is growing up in this boom period of Gales-burg with cultural diversity like we hadn’t seen before. He takes an interest in music, theatre, poetry, biography—it all starts at a very early age.”In his autobiography, “Al-ways the Young Strangers,” Sandburg recalls little about the house he was born in but

the stories his family told him. His family moved twice before settling in a home that Sandburg vividly remembers.Many of the historic build-ings in downtown Galesburg were built when Sandburg was young. However, Knox College was already estab-lished with a rich history.

Story and Photos By: Jennifer Wilson

Sandburg birthplane house Old Main stands with its proud belltower an inspiration for Sandburg.

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A plaque on the north side of Old Main at Knox College held significance for Sand-burg when he was younger. Knox was home to one of the seven debates between Abra-ham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas in 1858. The plaque quotes Lincoln: “He is blowing out the moral lights around us who contends that whoever wants slaves has a right to hold them.”“Carl Sandburg, of course, did not go to Knox College, but he crossed the campus. In his autobiography, ‘Al-ways the Young Strangers,’ he makes a definite point of mentioning this is a very important thing for him in his youth—to make time to stop and read these words. I

think it had a profound influ-ence on the development of his own political conscience as well as his interest in Lin-coln.”Eventually, Sandburg became one of the foremost Lincoln biographers of his time. His Lincoln series was written in a total of six volumes, two volumes called “The Prai-rie Years” and four volumes called “The War Years.” Sandburg, who completed four years at Lombard Col-lege but never finished a degree, received an honorary doctorate degree from Knox College in 1928 as a result of his writing.Knox College was also home of one of the seven Lincoln-Douglas debates in 1858. In

1958, 80-year-old Sandburg was a speaker and featured guest at the 100th Anniver-sary of the debate. “I don’t think Sandburg’s po-etry ever really did catch on in Galesburg,” Cherrington said. “I think the people in Galesburg really didn’t start paying attention to Carl Sandburg until his Lincoln works started selling. When he started getting recognized as a Lincoln scholar, that was something that Galesburg people could get their minds around.”Sandburg later moved away from Galesburg to pursue success in other places, including Wisconsin, Michi-gan, Chicago and North Carolina. However, he

would never forget his roots in Galesburg.“He had an introduction to a lot of things here in Galesburg—music, theatre, literature, history, biography and a wide range of human experience,” Cherrington said. “If you want to look at it in a metaphorical way, you could say that Galesburg was an incubator for a lot of what he became. But he couldn’t do it in the incubator. He knew that he could go so far in Galesburg and then he had to leave. He was the guy who put it together and figured out how to make a career out of it and draw on his roots to give him the material to write about.”

Sandburg birthplane house

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As a child, my great grand-mother told stories of her visits to Camp Ellis. She accom-panied my great grandfather on some visits to the camp. He was a military policeman and was looking to transfer to there for work. I remember her vivid description of the rows of buildings and the large num-ber of soldiers that populated the camp. She told me that she preferred not to visit because all of the soldiers would holler and whistle at her and it made her uncomfortable.

This story has always provided me with a small glimpse into

the past of this WWII train-ing camp. I picture my grand-mother stepping out of a classic car in a colorful summer dress and high heels, walking beside my grandfather in his military dress. Through her words, I could see the soldiers marching through camp on their way to training. I can picture the ser-vice vehicles rolling down the country roads. I can hear the practice shots being fired in the distance at the rifle range.

I would visit Camp Ellis regu-larly in the summer months of my childhood. My father farmed land at Camp Ellis at one point, and my brother and I always saw it as a great

adventure to tag along. We entertained ourselves with the idea that the camp was haunted with the spirits of the soldiers who trained there. Only three medical related deaths occurred at the camp during the years it was in operation. Not a big number, but just enough to encourage my imagination. We would walk on the rifle ranges and make up stories of pretend battles that had happened there, and dig along the edges of the fields trying to find any bits of treasure that had been left behind.

I always found the POW bar-racks particularly interesting. The barred windows and the

concrete walls, coupled with the vast emptiness of the buildings caused my imagination to soar. After all the farm equipment was moved out of the building and into the fields for the day, I would wander through the building looking for signs of the past. I always hoped to find a carving in the wall or a secret note from the 1940s. The POW barracks held nearly 5,000 Germans during the height of the war in 1944. The fact that something of such national and worldly significance occurred in my metaphorical backyard has never seemed anything less than astounding.

I have never lost the child-like

Listening for the Ghosts of Camp Ellis

The rifle range now stands as an endless wall of graffiti at Camp Ellis.Photos and Story By: Sarah Ritter

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intrigue I find when I visit Camp Ellis. The amount of lo-cal and national history that has been made on that land is incredible. 125,000 soldiers were trained in the short two and a half years that camp Ellis was in operation. It demolished and the military utility was sold and moved out as quickly as the camp was built. It disappeared at the conclusion of WWII and was briefly used for training United Stated military service-men after the war.

Ellis, also a POW camp, was constructed on the outskirts of Table Grove, Bernadotte and Ipava in 1942. This particular location was chosen due to the sparse population that existed within rural Western Illinois at the time, and its close proxim-ity to Galesburg, which pro-vided easy access to important railroad shipping facilities. An

additional benefit of build-ing Camp Ellis in rural Fulton County was its closeness to Spoon River and vast wood-lands.

Ellis was a small city in itself. At the peak of its existence, 25,000 soldiers walked the grounds. It sprawled across 18,000 acres of land and featured many use-ful buildings including seven chapels, a theater, a recreation facility, mess halls, barracks, a service club and a “Soldier’s Store.”

Today, there are very few landmarks left to remind us of the history that was made there. Four chimneys, a rifle range, a couple of POW bar-racks and some remnants of a water processing plant are all that remain. The land is vast and flat and has been primarily converted into farmlands.

Rumors have been passed around local areas since the end of WWII that the vehicles and facilities that were utilized at Camp Ellis were buried un-derground and could be found within the farmer’s fields. His-torians have revealed that the camp vehicles and equipment were all sold and moved at the conclusion of the war. Although academic research has proven these rumors wrong, locals still speculate about the true where-abouts of the army jeeps and military equipment.

Local Western Illinois residents are still fascinated with the exis-tence and the history of Camp Ellis. The fact that it existed so close to the places we call home creates a sense of pride and significance among us. Since very few of the concrete solid parts remain standing, we are

left with only history. Illinois has been fortunate enough to have historians and locals who have had interactions with the camp who were willing to share accounts of their experiences and memories there.

Today, as I drive down the gravel roads of what remains of Camp Ellis and gaze upon the farmlands on either side of the road, I can still imagine the history that was made at Camp Ellis. The few buildings stand tall, prominent symbols of what once was. Locals still refer to the back roads leading through the grounds as “Camp Ellis” and consider them a place all their own. The land itself may not be haunted with spirits, ghosts or goblins, but it is most certainty haunted with stories.

This building once served to house German POWs at Camp Ellis during World War II.

(Photo By: Sarah Ritter)

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McDonough County CourthouseThe McDonough County courthouse sits at the heart of Macomb. Located in the center of the downtown square, the courthouse acts as a historic and architec-turally magnificent center-piece. Following the original construction of the building in 1872, several renovations were made from in the 1970s that gave the courthouse its distinct appearance.

Finished with original stones and red bricks on the exterior and walnut and oak finish on the interior, the structure is as aestheti-cally pleasing as it is functional.

Halls of Justice Can Be Places of BeautyHancock County CourthouseThe Hancock County courthouse was erected in Carthage, 1893. Its stature has grown from modest beginnings. The original size of the structure was 50x50ft. The first case tried in the Han-cock County courthouse was a murder trial. William Fraim was represented by a new and inexperienced lawyer from Springfield by the name of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln lost his case and Fraim was the first and only person to be legally executed by hanging in the city of Carthage. While the history of the Hancock County courthouse remains, the building has undergone some radical renovations since the days of Lincoln. The interior walls are lined with marble, as are the steps, risers and floors. The structure also features a distinct and artistic stained-glass dome.

Schuyler County CourthouseThe Schuyler County courthouse was built in Rushville in 1880. The structure stands on the southwest corner of the Rushville square. A great deal of history lies within the structure. Abra-ham Lincoln acted as a lawyer in many cases in Rushville as well, making the town a destination for Lincoln fans and history buffs.

Warren County CourthouseThe current Warren County courthouse was built in Monmouth, 1894. The structure that acts as the courthouse today is the fourth one constructed in the history of Warren County. The building stand-ing today has undergone some renovations, but it has lasted the longest of all of the courthouses in Warren County. The building still contains many of its original marble and metal sculptures. The roof features some copper colored trim that accents the dark brick exterior of the building.

Knox County CourthouseThe first Knox County courthouse, known as the “Old Knox,” was built in Knoxville, 1840. The county residents later voted to change the location of the courthouse to Galesburg. The vote to move the county seat to was approved in 1873. Today the Knox County courthouse is situated just off of Cherry Street in Galesburg. The building exte-rior features strong iron beams decorated with Cleveland Limestone. With its distinct castle-like features, the structure is a downtown stand-out.

Captions and Photos By: Sarah Ritter

(Photo By: Sarah Ritter) (Photo By: Sarah Ritter)

(Photo By: Sarah Ritter) (Photo By: Sarah Ritter) (Photo By: Sarah Ritter)

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Tucked away off the main road in Car-thage, Lake Hill Winery sits on 63 acres of land—welcoming its guests with spirits and scenery.Existing as both a banquet hall and winery, Lake Hill is a place for friends to come together, drink wine and forget about life for a while.Owner Craig Wear, 33, with his gelled hair, stylish glasses and Columbia hoodie is an inviting host to visitors. His timid smile and eager view of the future set him apart from most business owners. Wear partnered with his wife, Anita, and built the winery from the ground up.“When I was on rotation in pharmacy school I did one (wine tour) in Australia.” Wear said. “I don’t know, I guess the seed was planted at that point in time. I never thought anything would come of it.”With a doctor of pharmacy degree from Drake University in Des Moines, Ia., Wear not only operates the winery but works for Wear Drug — his family owned business. He talked some about balanc-ing the two with his busy schedule and a third project on the horizon.“I probably spend more time on this (winery) right now, but that’s just because of the phase that it’s in. But we’re opening a remote consultation pharmacy in La Harpe and we should have that up and going within the next couple of months. I’m never bored.” Wear said.Employee Eric Nagel, who works on wine production and landscaping, doesn’t know how Wear does it.“I’m the newbie. He’s the brains. But he’s a busy, busy man. I don’t think he sleeps.” Nagel said.Opening the winery was no easy task. Wear recalls the time, money, construc-tion and networking it took before he could serve his first customer.“It was somewhat stressful. We put the vineyard in last spring. The land was actually all trees,” he said while he began to point out places where the land had to be cleared. “This hill was mostly trees and then down where the wedding sight is was trees. We got that cleared just before the spring of 2011.” But the work didn’t stop there for Wear.“Then it was too cold to burn and burry

the stumps so we didn’t have a road in yet and we had just massive piles of trees there,” he said. “We got those burnt and buried in early 2011, then not too long after that we put the vineyard in. I believe they started this building in late May – early June.”The grand opening for Lake Hill fell on New Year’s Eve. “It was good. We had probably well over 300 people and it tested us for sure. We had all new staff, but everybody did pretty good,” Wear said.Upon entering the winery, guests traveled through the almost four acre vineyard on a white gravel road that leads to the front doors of Wear’s creation. Inside, the smell of wine and wood drift through the air as if to say “you know you would like to drink some wine.”From the outside it might not seem large enough, but the building can hold more guests than most other wineries in the state. In order to fit that many people, the winery was designed to have two banquet rooms. The barrel room holds up to 100 people while the main hall can comfort-ably fit up to 400.“Our intention was that we’ve actually been turned down because we weren’t big enough. There was a party that was expecting 550 and they didn’t think they

could fit,” said Wear. “Yea we figure we can do 400 pretty easily but we can do 500 easy.”So far there has only been one wedding held at the winery. Partly because it is located right on Carthage Lake, there are about 15 weddings already booked for this summer.Aside from weddings, Lake Hill Winery hosts multiple events. These occasions, typically held on the weekend, usually center on a musical group.Recently, Lake Hill hosted an evening of dueling pianos. Upcoming events will feature acts such as “Cheeks McGee,” “The Cheeseburgers” and “Highway 99.” Host-ing acts with such names as these gives Lake Hill a relaxed persona.A winery and banquet hall would not be complete without tastings. Wear offers customers sample wines in plastic shot glasses.“We currently don’t charge anything for it. I guess we feel like we would rather have people try a little bit for free and decide what they like and not have to blindly choose what they want and not be happy with it.” Wear said. “You go to the grocery store or liquor store and there’s a thousand different bottles and not really, always, a very good description of what’s inside. So we try to take the guess work

out and people can try whatever they want and hopefully they’ll like it.”Currently, there are five types of wine available at Lake Hill produced right next to the winery in a large production build-ing.From the vineyard to the bottle, Wear oversees each step of the process. The winery uses local grape varieties, when they are available.“We’ve gotten all of our grapes from here in Colusa. What we haven’t been able to get in grapes we’ve had to buy in juice,” Wear said. “It’s sort of rough now being there’s more wineries poppin’ up than vineyards.“Most established vineyards already have relationships with established wineries, so it’s hard to get grapes actually from here. There’s some out there but it’s hard to get the varieties you want.”But for those who do not enjoy wine, Lake Hill offers other alcoholic beverages to consume while attending one of their many events. The winery has up to seven different types of beer and 20 types of liquor.The 63 acres Lake Hill sits on does not embody a stuffy, up-tight atmosphere. Rather, it’s a friendly log cabin that makes the workingman feel at ease to sip wine, relax and socialize.

Local Grapes Served with Elbow Room By: Michelle Baranauskis

(Photo By: Sarah Ritter)

(Photo By: Sarah Ritter)

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