Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 January 1891 — UP IN THE NORTH WOODS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

UP IN THE NORTH WOODS

GLIMPSES OF LIFE IN A LUMBER CAMP. Hew the World Is Furnished with Boards —The Hardships. Peril* and Joys of Hardy Woodsmen —AII rorts and Conditions of Men and H«w They Happen to Land in Lumber tamps.

OR those who have ►never tasted life in the great lumber woods, I can imagine nothing more delightful than to leave all “shop” behind and set face toward the pine forests of the North and penetrate their depths until reaching a large logging camp in full operation, and there tarry until the new phases of life that

will surely disclose themselves in such a Ail ace are exhausted. ' Not all who are breathing city smoke are circumstanced to leave it at will for the woods of'Michigan and Wisconsin. Therefore I will divide with such unfortunates, so far as I am able, the pleasures of a journey which I have taken into the woods of Wisconsin. My first glimpse of lumbering life was had before I was fairly settled down in my seat in the Wisconsjn Central train, on which I had shipped*from Chicago to Ashland, Wis. The car began to fill rapidly with a set of hale and hearty young men in “store

clothes,” who dropped into the first seats which they came to, and made themselves comfortable and at home in a twinkling. From their talk, which was by no means conducted in an undertone, I learned that there were about forty men on board bound for the lumber woods. Some were now hands going to take their first lessons in logging, but the most of them had seen more than one season in camp. And what a rollicking set the latter were! If they were going into hardships It was evident that they “kflew the worst” and were prepared to make the best of it. Two of the company, who seemed to be leaders of the crew, 1 pre-empted the two rear seats of the car. jerked their boots, shed their coats and in short order prepared to make a night of it. “I ll tell you, boys, we missed our opportunity to-day! We ought to have got rearin’ drunk* said one of them. This sentiment over a lost opportunity to make a full day of it in Chicago was heartily echoed by the remainder of the group. When the cross-fire of stories and banter began to lag one of the leaders drew forth from the depths of a black sachcl a “collection of popular songs.” The first selection was “Little Annie Rooney,” and the clear, strong tenor in which it was rendered made mo almost forgive him. As he warmed to his work aT change seemed to come over the spirit of his dreams, and the “popular airs” of the street gave place to the dear old tunes that have thrilled hearts from the days of yore. It was with regret that I saw him close the book and put' it away, taking from his sachel instead a flask of liquor, which he passed to his companions and sampled himself. Still another plunge into the sachel brought forth an elaborate nightshirt, which was greeted with more cheers? than even the bottle. It was very evident that he was determined t» make it known that he indulged in the embellishments of civilization at least once a year. After ceremoniously wrapping his bottle in the garment he subsided for the night, until a fat little boy In a red flannel waist came along to play with the faucet of the drinking-water tank. “Here, sonny! Looking for a bunk? Just you camp right down there, soon’s I move my feet Come, don’t be bashful! You’ve got to lookout for No. 1 or they won’t no one look out for you.. Mebbe you’re cold? Just let me spread my coat over you. ” When he had made the child comfortable he quickly dropped into slumber. In the morning, when we had passed through the burned district and were weil into the Bad River country, the saw mills began to appear. At one of these mill stations our forty lumbermen left the train, being met by a company of old companions, who were clad in striped, checked and variegated mackinaw jackets, with dangling belts that combined in each garment the most posative shades of every color. But to the woods. To see them at their grandest, one should visit them id October, when the wonderful autumn colors are at their

fall, And remain until the deep northern' mows have come. an h Nowhere does autunln foliage take on (he delicate apd facile tints and display them to such conspicuous advantage as is these Northern woods, where the comparatively few hard-wood trees —mainly maple, birch,' beech, mountain ash and Ironwood—always have the dark back-

r ground of the evergreens to set off and enhance their beauty. As you enter one of these great forests of towering pines, the resinous aroma that greets you on every breeze, and rises from the yielding carpet of pine needles beneath your feet, is grateful and refreshing beyond expression; but it is not until you have reached the, place where the sawyers are waking “the echoes of the wood with the “ching! ching! chine! ching!” ‘of their crosscut saw, as it slips backward and forward through the fragrant wood, that you catch the first odor of “forests primfeval. ” Strange that no chemist has sought to reproduce it in a “perfume,” for society would' quickly make it a fashionable fad. But the odor of pine and tamarack is not the only subtle apd pleasing perfume that you meet in the lumber woods. At every open space, especially in the “burnings,” where a forest fire has swept through the standing timber, you will find the ground thickly covered with the dark leaves of the wintergreen, the berries of which grow to surprising size and perfection, and have a flavor as aromatic and delicious as their coloring is delicate. But on to camp! And for the sake of haste we will step out of the thick woods onto the or railway switch, which invariably penetrates to a camp of any size, excepting where the logs are floated down a stream to some jaw-mill or shipping point. As a camp presents the most interests ing scene in winter, I have chosen that season for illustration. With the possible exception of the foreman, the cook is by far the most important and highly esteemed personage

in camp.* His favor is courted and curried to a flattering extent. But tha.t is not the only way in which his importance is attested. His name leads the pay-roll. And well it may, for the leading question which loggers raise, in deciding with what camp they will cast their lot is; Whict has the best cook? The extent to which this consideration outweighs all others was emphasized to me when,the news came in one day that the entire crew of a neighboring camp had “struck” because a cook whoso services commanded $75 a month had been discharged to give place for one who could command but SSO. The cook’s assistant is called the “cookee.” The other principal employes of a camp are the foreman, sawyers, teamsters, skidders and the “road-monkeys,” and, In camps where logs are floated, the drivers. The wages of loggers range from $25 to S4O, and sometimes even SSO a month. It is quite a common idea that trees are felled with an axe, but that Is not

the That is dong with a cross-cut saw,, 'operated by two sawyers, who accomplish the down fall of a big pine in an incredibly short time. The' tree is then cut into logs of proper length and turned over to the skidders, who elevate them by canthooks, chains and ox-teams onto skids, from which they are finally loaded: for shipment. In the illustration may bo Seen sawyers at work, logs on skid, and a hauling team just loaded by the skidders and ox-team. The man standing in front of the horses by the sawyers, with a woodefi mallet over his shoulder, is a wedge man. whose duty it is to insert the wedged-shaped axehead into the cut made by the sa w as soon as the blade of the latter has penetrated I beyond its depths. As fast as the saw begins to bend the axe-head is driven in with the maul behind the saw blade to relieve the pressure on the blade. The road monkeys are stationed at the steep inclines along the winter roadways over which the heavy loads of logs are hauled. When & load approaches going down the incline,, these road monkeys, scatter wisps of hay in front of the sled runners, to act as brakes upon the smooth sled shoes, and prevent the load

from plunging down upon the rear of the ; horses. The hay is of course removed when a team is sighted going np the grade. It may“bo imagined that the duties of the road monkey are extremely “soft”—all play and no work—but when the thermometer touches “thirty below,” as it frequently does, a more.active employment can scarcely be Imagined.

While there Is more or less liability t* accident in felling, skidding and hank Ing, the most perilous part of logging falls to the “drivers,” who are required to steer Che logs down streams, which they do by means of long pike poles. It is an interesting scene to see an expert driver skipping over the floating logs, darting his pike here and there to keep the whole mass moving, and when, in shooting the rapids of some turbulent stream, the logs get in a “jam” and the driver must venture out upon the struggling mass and liberate it, taking his

chances for keeping his poisd upon some, rolling log when the break comes, the scene is one of intense excitement and peril. ......... Many of the drivers in the Bad River country were Chippewa Indians, or half-breeds, who find this sort of life much to their liking. Much of the labor of lumbering takes the crews too far from camp to return for the mid-day meal. In that case dinner is brought them by the “cookee” or the tote sled—the latter being the name by which the sled used for hauling supplies is designated—and eaten “on the spot.” Such a dinner in the woods is too cheerful and picturesque a scene to be passed without illustration. But the most cheerful occasion of all is the hearty supper, to the enjoyment of which they bring large appetites and the weariness of the day’s labor, knowing that they are at liberty to linger over it as long as they choose. This meal is spread within the warm log shanty, upon a table of plain pine boards. An oil-cloth usually does duty for a table-clbth. After supper they gather about the long box stove and pass the evening hours in recounting the experiences of other days; and as these crews are m&de up of “all ports and conditions of men," who from causes as varied as their faces have drifted together from the four corners of the earth, their adventures and memories take in the whole range of human experience, “From grave to gay. from lively to severe." It is not an infrequent circumstance to find within such a circle men of fine learning and polite birth, and, although their presence may sometimes bo accounted for by misfortune, it is almost universally the result of dissipation, and many a pitiful tale is locked within their lips,, which eved the rude cheer of an evening's “recollections” around the fire at will never draw forth. But whatever their faults or follies, as they break up that social circle about the fire, to turn into their rough bunks or do a bit of rude patching, let.iis wish them a hearty good night, and bear

them a kindly thought when we look upon our own comfortable homes, made possible by their hard labor. Forrest Crisset.

WINTER QUARTERS OF A LOGGING ARMY.

DINNER IS THE WOODS.

THE CALL TO DINNER.

DENUDING THE FOREST.