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This was before I was born, but my dad told me after I started getting interested in local history. After World War One, he said, the stonecutting business wasn’t doing too well. The mines had closed; the county had been lumbered over, and there was an economic bust and general exodus. Thousands were going Down Below to work in factories—and to die there, apparently. At any rate, they weren’t coming north to be buried. He had a Model T truck and did some hauling jobs to make ends meet, but it was rough. People were living on oatmeal and turnips, and families were having to double up.
Then, one day Ben Dibble came in to order a tombstone for his uncle, who’d been living with them. The old fellow had been struck down by lightning and was being buried on the farm. Dad chiseled a stone and delivered it in 쑽쑽쑽
In a week or so, Ben was back for another stone; his aunt had died of a broken heart. Dad cut the stone and, while delivering it, wondered about burying somebody on a riverbank. What if there was a flood? . . . Anyway, he and Ben set up the stone, and Ben asked to look at the truck; he was thinking of buying one. To Dad’s embarrassment, it wouldn’t start! He tinkered with the motor until the farm bell called Ben in to supper.
As soon as Ben had left, Dad sneaked back to the graves. He’d only pretended the truck wouldn’t start.
Scraping the topsoil away, he found some loose planks, and under the planks he found cases of booze! Old Log Cabin whiskey from Canada.
Rumrunners were bringing it across the lake and up the river, where it was stashed on Ben’s farm until it could be delivered Down Below. Well! Dad had three options: report ’em, ignore ’em, or join ’em. Prohibition was bringing prosperity back to Moose County. People were flocking north by the trainload, and everybody was smuggling contraband in from Canada or out by train and Model T. Some of today’s old families who claim to be descended from lumber barons or mining tycoons are really descended from bootleggers.
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Short & Tall Tales I can honestly say I’m the son of a stonecutter. Dad was too busy cutting stone to break the law. He said the tombstone business was very good during Prohibition. All I know is that all of us kids had shoes and went away to college.
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16.
The Pork-and-Beans
Incident at
Boggy Bottom
As Confirmed by
the County Historian
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Wesley Prescott was a good kid. Studied hard but would rather be playing baseball. Finished the eighth grade but dropped out because the high school was thirteen miles away, and there was no public transporta-tion. Also, Moose County had been in a depression ever since the mines closed before World War One. People had left in droves, to seek work in cities Down Below. So . . .
Mr. Prescott, a skilled carpenter and housebuilder, had gone to Detroit to look for any kind of work, leaving his wife and three kids in the small village of Isbey. He wrote to them weekly—no luck. They were living mainly on oatmeal and turnips. The church had a cow, and Wesley would go there with a jug—and stay to muck the barn.
Then the first money came from Detroit, and Mr.
Prescott wrote: “I got a job as a White Wing. You should see me in my white suit.” They never dreamed that he was 쑽쑽쑽