Waupun, Wisconsin

The further I get out into the hinterlands, towns become more  individualistic, asserting an identity of their own. The town of Waunakee, north of Madison, announced itself as “The only Waunakee in the world.”  The repetitive nature of town names can become tiresome, all the Springfield’s and Jefferson’s and Rome’s and Paris’ scattered about the US, so cheers to Waunakee for recognizing this.

Lodi, up the road from Waunakee, advertised itself as “home of Susie the duck,” a mallard that took up residence in a park with a creek near the town center in 1948.  The mayor’s young daughter christened her Susie.  Susie is long gone, but mallards continue to inhabit the park and benefit from the goodwill of the locals who have feed stations for them.  As with many small towns, it’s initial library was established by a woman’s club. But Lodi is a rare town that retains the name—Lodi Woman’s Club Public Library. It’s not a Carnegie, but I still ducked in for some charging and WiFi and learn of the local lore.

The nearest Carnegie was nearly twenty miles away in Baraboo across the Wisconsin River, which required a ferry to cross, the only functioning ferry in the state other than those that cross Lake Michigan.  It’s a quick crossing, less than five minutes.  It can handle fifteen cars and runs non-stop back and forth much of the day and at no cost. 

I was a bit chagrined when I arrived just as the ferry was pulling out, not knowing how quickly and frequently it made the crossing.  I ducked into the nearby rest room to wash a few garments.  I was shocked when bright red, seemingly fresh blood, filled the basin as I rinsed my socks.  I thought I must have had a cut on a finger, but no, the blood was coming from one of the socks, which had absorbed some blood from a scrape on my shin pushing through the brush one evening.  I was shocked again when I left the rest room and saw the ferry back already and  departing once again, so quickly had it made the trip.

The Carnegie in Baraboo is the front-runner as the most notable of the trip with its noble, classic features unmarred by an addition to the rear.  “Carnegie Free Library” chiseled into its facade and entry made up eight steps and through a pair of columns added to its charm. That climb up, however brief, always heightens the glorious moment of entering a library.  The only disappointment was the absence of the traditional Carnegie portrait or any plaque acknowledging Carnegie, just a plaque stating the library had been designated a National Historic Place.  As in Lodi, it was inhabited by a handful of the elderly sitting and reading newspapers and magazines in the living room setting common to Carnegies with wooden floors and tall windows letting in beaucoup natural light and a fireplace.

The Carnegie in Reedsburg, fifteen miles to the west, had lost its identity having been joined to the modern city hall next door.  If there had been a library inscription on it, it was long gone.  The new library with a large parking lot frowned upon it from across the street.  

The road into Reedsburg was being resurfaced and was closed to traffic making it my own private road of smooth sailing for seven miles on a stretch that had been completed all but for a center line. I was halted six miles short of Reedsburg where construction crews were at work. I had to backtrack half a mile and then go over a mile to pick up a smaller parallel road.  The route took me past one of the early themes of these travels—skeletons on tractors.  This was by far the most creative.

Pumpkin stands pop up so frequently it’s a wonder Wisconsin isn’t known as the Pumpkin State.   They certainly predominate over cheese, at least this time of the year.

I camped a few miles out of the town of Wisconsin Dells where the next Carnegie awaited me.  The town was densely populated with motels and tourist attractions and souvenir shops, one unabashedly called Souvenir City.  An arena hosted Lumberjack shows.  Wikipedia listed the address for the Carnegie on Broadway the main thoroughfare through the town packed for several blocks  with one shop after another catering to tourists, everything from the House of Jerky to a paintball shooting gallery.  I could hardly imagine a stately Carnegie on this stretch and it wasn’t.  It was a block over at 631 Cedar in a large park known as Library Park.  The tiny Prairie Style Carnegie in one corner had been replaced by a much larger building.  It was presently vacant.  It would make a nice home, but it’s zoned commercial.

I spent much of the rest of the day biking over sixty miles east on small county roads designated by a single letter that intersected no towns and that I had all to myself. The route passed near where John Muir lived and roamed after he came to America from Scotland with his family when he was eleven. 

 Even along this quiet stretch there were pumpkins for sale, and as with many stands, on the honor system.  I didn’t see any pumpkins dotting the fields, as they were largely taken up with brown corn stalks.  

I made it to Waupun just before five in time to enter the Carnegie, now the Waupun Heritage Museum, except that it was only open on the second and fourth Sundays of the mouth.  It was another beauty, comparable to that in Baraboo, well worth whatever effort it might take to visit.  It was constructed of local stone and had Carnegie carved into its facade just above Waupun Public Library.  

It had been a pleasantly warm day in the 70s with thirst not much of an issue.  I was still hopeful of packing my bottles with ice at the nearby MacDonald’s, but as with the last few it was drive-through only with a sign on its door blaming it on a shortage of employees, a sign common to other MacDonald’s.  

But unlike a year ago, and earlier this year on my bike journeys, there have been no hiring signs on the MacDonald’s.  It does seem as if management is content to not having to clean bathrooms and stock toilet paper and empty indoor trash cans and wipe tables and all that.  The savings on staff must offset the loss in revenue from those such as me who want a place to sit.  It is a valuable place for me to charge my devices as well as fill my water bottles with ice.  Hopefully this isn’t another example of the Amazoning of America of people not wanting to leave their homes and now their cars to make purchases.  I regret to see it expanding into the dining experience.