Elroy, Wisconsin

 

The last three of the forty-five Carnegies I’ve visited this past month came on a forty-mile stretch between Sparta and Elroy, endpoints of the first rails to trails conversion in the US, inaugurated in 1967, a very popular cycling route. Both Sparta and Elroy are further distinguished as homes to Carnegies. The third in this batch was in Tomah, “Gateway to Cranberry Country,” east of Sparta and not on the trail.  

I’d ridden the trail forty years ago with friends, so wasn’t disappointed that my route to Tomah diverted me from it.  It wasn’t that appealing anyway since it was crushed limestone and a bit soft from all the moisture, though it’s three tunnels would have spared me some nasty climbs. I was surprised to learn that one now had to buy a pass to ride the trail, though this time of the year it wasn’t likely that anyone would be enforcing the regulation I was told. 

All three of these final Carnegies were still functioning as libraries and had additions that nicely blended in.  Elroy’s was the most noteworthy, as the library had to raze three homes for its addition.  Two were donated by an elderly woman, but the third the library had to purchase.  

The librarian was happy to give me a tour of the library, taking me downstairs to a meeting room and offices.  The room was known as the “Railroad Room,” as it had served as a reading room for rail passengers waiting for trains at the station across the street up until the line closed in 1964.  The railroad paid a subsidy for the use of it.  When the room was no longer needed for rail passengers, it served as Elroy’s City Hall for a couple of decades.  Back in the early days of the library a second room in the basement was reserved exclusively for men where they could smoke and talk above a whisper.  

A large scrapbook tracing the history of the library was open on a table by the entrance.  It had a two-page spread on each librarian, most of whom served twenty years or more.  Edna Roberts was the first when the library opened in 1908 earning $25 a month.  There was a photo of her as a sprightly young woman in a flowing white dress and large hat standing on the steps of the library and another from her retirement party in 1951.

The Tomah Carnegie was on Superior Street, as was the one in Antigo, a popular street name in Wisconsin towns, just as Walnut is in Indiana.  The Sullivanesque architecture was partially obscured by large trees.  A sign on the door warned it had no rest room.  All the tables and chairs, other than a few at the row of computers, were stacked in a corner, as it didn’t want patrons lingering in these Covid times, though masks weren’t required.  I was told if I wanted to use the WiFi I’d have to sit on the steps to the entry of the library, as was a teenaged boy who showed up on a bike.  

I arrived at the grand Sparta Carnegie before it opened with its flag at half-mast for Colin Powell.  A plaque out front identified Carnegie as a “steel magnate” rather than the usual businessman or philanthropist. It was across the street from the former Masonic Lodge, another striking building, built after the Carnegie.  

It was now the Deke Slayton Memorial Space and Bicycle Museum with an effigy of Slayton in space suit out front. Slayton was born in Sparta and was one of the original seven Mercury astronauts. An exhibit traces the evolution of transportation from the bicycle to aviation, giving a nod to all the cyclists drawn to Sparta to ride its 32-mile trail to Elroy. 

Elroy too had a museum relating to the trail.

The night before this final trio I camped alongside a cornfield outside of Sparta.  Earlier in the day a hunter in camouflage saw the gear on my bike and surmised I’d been camping and wondered if I’d seen any evidence of bears.  He said there were a few in the vicinity who’d been forced out of their more natural terrain to the north by territorial bears. He said farmers don’t appreciate them because they can make a mess of their cornfields.  I was glad to see none of the corn where I was camping had been marauded.

I had in fact seen no evidence of bears this entire trip, not even signs warning of them. I suspected this hunter was hyping something that wasn’t anything to be concerned about, just like the media likes to do.  I was cognizant that bears inhabited the UP and the north of Wisconsin, so was mindful of my food.   I was confident enough that I had left their domain that I bought a roasted chicken a couple of days ago.  I stripped all the meat from the carcass, so I didn’t have to worry about disposing of bones at my campsite, and had a feast of a meal.

Whatever bears there may be, they must be adequately fed as none have chowed done on the frequent road kill deer I come upon.  There are a lot of roadkill raccoons as well. The hunter said that along with deer he hunted and trapped coons, as there is a market for their skins.  One can also sell squirrel tails, as they are used in making fishing lures, but there isn’t much money in them, just ten cents a tail.  I had seen a sign offering to buy them.  I hadn’t seen many, figuring those signs produced a lot of business.

Now it’s on to Milwaukee for a train home and my re-immersion into packed humanity.  But only for a short spell, as Janina and I will drive up to northern Michigan to meet up with cyclist Rick for his final few days at his cottage on Lake Otsego.  If the weather allows we’ll leave the car in Traverse City and bike the final seventy miles to Rick so Janina can experience the luxury of cycling in the northern woods as I’ve been doing.  What a joy it will be to share the experience with her and hopefully on her new carbon fiber bike if we can come up with a rack to extend from the seat post as the frame won’t accept a rack for panniers.