A tour of downtown Lansing

Over Labor Day weekend, my husband and I spent an evening on a historical "scavenger hunt." As part of the "History Hunt," sponsored by the Historical Society of Greater Lansing, we walked around the city's downtown area, taking pictures of various buildings and attractions. The Historical Society provided the clues, we hunted down the buildings. When all was said and done, we ended up winning one of the prizes (go team!!!), which, in our case, was a private guided tour of the state Capitol. I'll write about that excursion in a few weeks, but in the meantime, this post describes a few of the places we visited during our history walk.

(Note: The pictures in this post aren't the ones we took that day. Most of the clues asked us to capture very specific images, so in the interest of not posting a series of photos that show random archways and concrete slabs, I've hunted down photos of the buildings themselves.)

Away we go...


1. Boji Tower
120-130 W. Allegan Street

Auto bigwig Ransom E. Olds financed construction of this building, which, at 364 feet and 25 stories, is Lansing's tallest. (Fun fact: It's also the building where I work.) The structure began its life in 1931 as Olds Tower, then became Capital National Bank Tower in honor of a bank that Olds helped create. From 1954 to 2001, the building was the Michigan National Bank Tower, then went nameless for four years until the Boji Group, a development company, bought it in 2005 and named it Boji Tower. Built in the Art Deco style that was popular during the 1930s and 1940s, the tower is made of brick and limestone, and now contains primarily office space. It's also home to the Michigan Senate's hearing room.


2. First capitol building in Lansing
Historical marker at South Washington Square near Allegan Street

 

This building no longer exists, but was located on land now bordered by Washington Avenue, Capitol Avenue, Allegan Street, and Washtenaw Street. When Michigan became a state in 1837, its first capital was Detroit. However, the state constitution stated that this was a temporary location, and in 1847, Lansing---a wilderness community in the middle of nowhere---became the state capital. Construction of the new capitol building began that same year, and in 1848 the two-story wooden structure opened its doors to the state legislature, supreme court, and governor. It served as the state's primary governmental building until 1879, when the current capitol replaced it. The first capitol then became a factory, but burned down not long afterwards, in 1882.


3. Michigan Theatre
217 S. Washington Avenue

In 1921, this building opened as the Strand Theater and Arcade. It boasted one of the largest vaudeville stages in Michigan, as well as a bowling alley, billiard room, and banquet hall. Eventually, audiences lost interest in vaudeville, so the building's owners phased out live performances and began showing an increasing number of motion pictures. In 1941, the aging building underwent renovation and reopened as the Michigan Theatre. It remained a movie house until 1980, when it closed for good. Part of the building was demolished, but the rest remains in use as office and retail space.


4. Kerns Hotel
100 block of N. Grand Avenue
Historical marker located on the Grand River's east side, near Michigan Avenue

Another building no longer in existence, the Kerns Hotel (located behind the frontmost structure in this photo) burned down a few weeks before Christmas, on December 11, 1934. During its last night in existence, the 25-year-old, four-story wooden structure housed 215 guests, including several state legislators. At 5:30 a.m., the fire alarm went off, and firefighters rushed to save the hotel's occupants, many of whom escaped via ladders and nets. When the flames burned out, 32 people (including seven legislators) had died, and 44 more (including 14 firefighters) had been injured. (Two people would later die from their wounds.) According to the Lansing Fire Department, the Kerns Hotel incident is the worst fire disaster in the city's history.


5. Cooley Law School Stadium
505 E. Michigan Avenue

On April 5, 1996, Lansing's hometown minor-league baseball team, the Lugnuts, played its first-ever game, against the Rockford Cubbies, in what was then known as Oldsmobile Park. (Two days earlier, the new stadium had held its first "official" game, a matchup between the Michigan State University and University of Michigan baseball teams.) The park had replaced a row of storefronts along Michigan Avenue and, city officials hoped, would attract thousands of people to Lansing's downtown area. Their wish came true; seventeen years later, Lugnuts games remain a popular diversion for area families and sports fans. General Motors bought initial naming rights to the stadium (which is why it became "Oldsmobile Park" when it opened), but Thomas M. Cooley Law School obtained the rights in 2010, so the park is now known as Cooley Law School Stadium.

Felony Friday: The Robison family murders

The smell was overwhelming that July day in 1968 as Chauncey Bliss approached the cabin he had built years earlier near the community of Good Hart, on the Lower Peninsula's northwest coast. Bliss was a carpenter who had constructed many vacation homes along the glistening shore of Lake Michigan. Now he served as caretaker of those homes, which he had collectively named "Blisswood," and which included among their number a residence occupied by the Robisons, a rich family from the Detroit suburb of Lathrup Village.

Drawn to the Robison home by a woman who lived near the family, and who called complaining about an ungodly smell, Bliss stepped up to the log-cabin-style residence. No one had seen the Robisons for several weeks, but family members had told acquaintances that they were planning a trip out of town, so their absences hadn't alarmed anyone. The smell probably came from a dead raccoon in the crawl space, thought Bliss, steeling himself to face the odor that he knew would be more pungent inside. Bliss knocked at the front door, but got no response, so he entered the house. Immediately, he saw a woman's body sprawled in the entryway, her clothing in disarray. Behind her, Bliss caught a glimpse of several other bodies, laying on the floor in pools of congealed blood. Shocked, Bliss hurried away and called the police.

An initial investigation revealed that the cabin contained six bodies---every member of the Robison family, from 42-year-old father Richard to 7-year-old daughter Susan. Both father and daughter had been bludgeoned with a hammer, as well as shot with a pistol. The other family members---40-year-old mother Shirley, and sons Richie, 19, Gary, 16, and Randy, 12---had been shot with the same weapon as had the other Robisons, but had not been struck with the hammer. Due to the condition of the bodies, which were heavily decomposed and covered with flies, officers estimated the murders took place about a month before the Robisons were found. Authorities eventually placed the date and time of death as the late afternoon or early evening of Tuesday, June 25, 1968.

The Robison family. Top row, left to right, Gary and Richie; Middle row: Randy;
 Bottom row, left to right, Shirley, Susan, and Richard.

At first, police were at a loss. The Robisons were an upstanding family that attended church regularly and had no enemies. Richard was an advertising executive and published an arts magazine called "Impresario," while Shirley took care of the family's home. Richie, the eldest son, attended Eastern Michigan University. The younger Robisons did well in their studies, and family acquaintances said they were smart and polite children. Why, then, would someone kill the family in such a violent manner, then leave their bodies to decay for several weeks?

 

The Robison cabin during the police investigation.

As police dug into Richard Robison's business dealings, they came up with a lead. Though Robison presented himself as a prosperous executive, his companies were in trouble. He was engaging in funny business with the finances for "Impresario," and was telling colleagues and family members about various deals he had in the works, though no one knew much about them. One of the most revealing discoveries was that, while he was in Good Hart, Robison had left his business in the hands of 30-year-old Joseph Scolaro III, an employee who was embezzling money from Robison. (The amount was later revealed to be about $60,000.) Police theorized that, during a phone call between Robison and Scolaro hours before the murder, Robison revealed that he had found out about the embezzlement. At that point, according to police, a panicked Scolaro took off from Detroit, drove several hours north to Good Hart, and killed the family before Richard Robison could come forward with details about Scolaro's crime.

Circumstantial evidence supported this conclusion. Scolaro had been out of contact with friends, business associates, and family for twelve hours on the day of the murder, and police couldn't find anyone to support Scolaro's alibis as to where he was that day. Officers also discovered that shell casings found at a shooting range that Scolaro frequented matched casings police had found at the scene of the crime. In addition, Scolaro failed two polygraph tests, and delivered inconclusive results on a third. To officers, Scolaro became a prime suspect.

However, because police couldn't find the murder weapons, nor any eyewitnesses to the crime, the prosecutor in Emmet County, where the Robison's cabin was located, didn't press charges. Frustrated, state police officers worked with prosecutors in Oakland County, where the Robisons lived, to continue the investigation. In 1973, Oakland County Prosecutor L. Brooks Patterson was ready to charge Scolaro with conspiracy to commit murder. However, before officers could apprehend their suspect, Scolaro shot himself in the head, effectively ending Brooks' attempt to prosecute him. Scolaro left behind a suicide note in which he said that he did not kill the family, but many students of the case, as well as the state police and the Emmet County Sheriff's Department, still consider him the chief suspect.

That's not to say that Scolaro is the only person who has been accused of killing Richard Robison and his family. Critics of the "Scolaro as killer" theory say that Scolaro couldn't have driven to Good Hart, shot the Robison family, and driven back to the Detroit area in the amount of time for which he didn't have an alibi. Some people suspect that John Norman Collins, who was convicted in 1970 of killing a female college student in Ypsilanti (and is a suspect in the killings of several other co-eds), was somehow involved in the Robison murders. Collins attended Eastern Michigan University at the same time Richie Robison did, and is even said to have possibly roomed with Robison during orientation week.

Another proposed suspect is the caretaker, Chauncey Bliss, an eccentric whom some Good Hart locals believe committed the murders after his son, who was friends with the Robison boys, died in a motorcycle accident shortly before the Robison murders. According to this theory, Bliss felt slighted by Richard Robison in the days following the younger Bliss's death, and took his revenge by killing the family. (Police didn't regard Bliss as a suspect in the Robison murders.)

Other suspects have been suggested and discarded, and the case is officially unsolved. Forty-five years after the murders, the community of Good Hart remains a popular vacation destination for downstaters looking to get away from it all. Unfortunately, for the Robisons, their attempt to "get away from it all" ended during a violent encounter after which they would never return.


For more information:

A few books about the Robison murders have been published. They include:

"When Evil Came to Good Hart" by Mardi Link (an excellent nonfiction book about the murders; I highly recommend it)

"Dead End" by James J. Pecora (I own this book, but haven't yet read it; it's essentially a nonfiction book, but changes the names of the family members and various characters)

"The Tarnished Eye" by Judith Guest (a fictionalized version of the Robison story)

Why Michiganders drive a quarter mile out of their way to make a left turn: The story of the "Michigan Left"

It's second-nature to most Michiganders, but the first time a driver encounters the "Michigan Left," questions fill his or her head.


"Why am I turning right? I want to turn left."

"Okay, I've turned right...why am I being told to drive another quarter mile forward?"

"Okay, NOW I'm being told to turn left. But I'm still a quarter-mile away from the intersection where I started. Basically, I drove a half-mile out of my way to make a left turn."

"Who came up with this system? I hope they were fired."


On its surface, the Michigan Left seems overly complicated and unnecessary. However, traffic studies have shown that it shortens wait times and reduces accidents. The Michigan Left has proven so effective in its home state that other states, and even countries, are implementing similar systems to reduce traffic congestion and cut down on accidents at dangerous intersections.

Most drivers in Michigan know what a Michigan Left is, but for the sake of keeping us all on the same page, I'll try to describe it. The Michigan Left is basically a system in which each left turn requires that a driver either make first a right turn, then a U-turn, or vice versa. The system I've described in my imaginary driver's internal conversation above follows the first pattern: a right turn, then a U-turn. Click on the link below to see a demo from the Michigan Department of Transportation. The imagined scenario at the beginning of this post is what you'll see when you click on the "North to West" button.

"Michigan Left" simulation

The other scenario in the demo, "East to North," requires first a U-turn, then a right turn onto the road where the driver originally wished to make the left turn. In both scenarios, at least one road must be divided (i.e., have a median that separates traffic going in opposite directions) and be multi-laned (i.e., have at least two lanes of traffic going in the same direction).

It seems complex until you've driven it. I hope my explanations haven't added to the confusion. In case they have, here's a diagram from the website michiganhighways.org. (Click on the picture to get a better view.)


Michigan Lefts have been around since the 1960s, when state highway engineers created them to ease traffic congestion in metropolitan areas like Detroit. When making a "regular" left turn, a driver can sometimes block traffic behind him or her for several minutes, depending on how many cars are approaching from the opposite direction. Michigan Lefts eliminate the need for drivers to turn left at intersections, so they keep traffic moving. They also lessen average wait times---as well as reduce the number and severity of collisions that occur---at intersections.

The state installed its first Michigan Left at Eight Mile Road and Livernois Avenue in Detroit. Now, about 700 Michigan Lefts cover the state, with more likely to join them. Michigan Lefts can be a pain, but I prefer to think of them as something that, like the Mystery Spot or Da Yoopers (both of which I love, or at least appreciate), is slightly off the wall, occasionally a source of mockery, but still uniquely "Michigan."

Do you live in a cabinet county?

Take a look at the question I've just posed. You might not know the answer now, but you will after you read this post.

If you do, in fact, live in one of Michigan's ten cabinet counties, the place you call "home" received its name sometime between 1829 and 1833 as part of an attempt to "sweet talk" the federal government into siding with the Michigan territory in its border conflict with Ohio. Each of these counties takes it name from a member of then-President Andrew Jackson's cabinet (and one is named after Jackson himself...I'll let you guess which one).

The flattery didn't work, as the federal government eventually gave the disputed land--a 468-square-mile area known as the "Toledo Strip"--to Ohio. Michigan did receive a good chunk of the Upper Peninsula as a consolation prize, though, so I think our state came out ahead in the end. (Sorry, Toledo.)

Here's a huge map showing the cabinet counties:

And here's information about their namesakes:

1. Barry County -- named after William T. Barry, the U.S. Postmaster General. Barry was appointed Ambassador to Spain after his tenure on the cabinet ended, but he died while traveling there, so he never assumed his post.

 

William T. Barry

2. Berrien County -- named after John M. Berrien, the U.S. Attorney General. He was a political party "flip flopper," calling himself, at various times, a Jacksonian Democrat, a Whig, a member of the Southern Rights Party, and a member of the American Party.

John M. Berrien

3. Branch County -- named after John Branch, U.S. Secretary of the Navy. Before serving in Jackson's cabinet, Branch had been governor of North Carolina. After his cabinet service, he became territorial governor of Florida.

John Branch

4. Calhoun County -- named after Vice President John C. Calhoun. This cheerful gentleman wasn't the greatest guy in the world. After his tenure as vice president ended, he served in the United States Senate, where he led a pro-slavery faction that opposed abolitionism.

 

John C. Calhoun

5. Cass County -- this isn't one of the original cabinet counties, as it was named for Lewis Cass, who at the time was serving as Michigan's territorial governor. However, Cass later served as Secretary of War for Jackson, so his namesake county subsequently became one of the cabinet counties.

Lewis Cass

6. Eaton County -- named after John Eaton, U.S. Secretary of War. (Eaton served in this position before Cass did.) Eaton resigned in response to the "Petticoat Affair," a scandal that brewed in D.C. after critics whispered that Eaton had married his wife, Peggy, too soon after her first husband's death, and that the two of them (Eaton and Peggy) had been having an affair while her husband was still alive.

John Eaton

7. Ingham County -- named after Samuel D. Ingham, U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. Before turning to politics, Ingham had managed a paper mill. He served in several political posts in Pennsylvania and was elected to Congress before he became a cabinet member.

Samuel D. Ingham

8. Jackson County -- this one's the "biggie." It's named after Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of the United States, who served from 1829 to 1837. On his deathbed, Jackson said he had two regrets: that he had been unable to shoot Henry Clay (his opponent in the 1832 presidential election) or to hang John C. Calhoun.

Andrew Jackson

9. Livingston County -- named after Edward Livingston, U.S. Secretary of State. Before joining the cabinet, Livingston had been active in politics in Louisiana, where he helped draft the "Livingston Code," a criminal code that advocated the reform, rather than the punishment, of prisoners.

Edward Livingston

10. Van Buren County -- this county was named after another president, Martin Van Buren, who succeeded Jackson. However, Van Buren County received its moniker when its namesake served as Jackson's Secretary of State. (Edward Livingston succeeded Van Buren in this position.) Van Buren eventually became vice president under Jackson, then became president in 1837.

Martin Van Buren

Felony Friday: The tragic end of Marvin Gaye

One of my favorite Motown songs is "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," the version by Marvin Gaye. This song gives me chills, it's so soulful and heart-rending. I'm sure everyone has heard it, but check it out again:

Even more heart-rending than this song is the tragic way Gaye's life ended: at the hands of his own father, who shot Gaye with a gun that Gaye himself had given his dad. However, before I tell the story of Gaye's death, let me share some information about his life.

Marvin Gaye was born in Washington, D.C. in 1939, the son of Marvin Gay, Sr. (the younger Gaye eventually added an "e" to the end of his last name) and Alberta Gay. Signs of trouble between father and son began early in Gaye's life. Though Marvin Sr. was a minister, he was abusive, and administered regular beatings to his son. Salvation came in the form of Gaye's mother, who encouraged his interest in music. Gaye began singing in church at the age of four, and as a teen performed in various doo-wop groups. After an unsuccessful stint in the United States Air Force, Gaye helped form a group called The Marquees, which performed around the D.C. area. Later, the group became "Harvey and the New Moonglows" and worked out of Chicago, where the band recorded a few of its own songs and also performed as session singers for musicians like Chuck Berry.

Marvin Gaye, early in his career

 

The "New Moonglows" disbanded in 1960, and Gaye moved to Detroit, where he signed on with Tamla, a subsidary of the Motown record company. His initial recordings didn't go anywhere, but he eventually gained fame with songs like "Hitch Hike" and "Pride and Joy." Gaye also became known for his duets with female Motown stars, in particular, Tammi Terrell, with whom he recorded songs like "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" and "Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing." Gaye's real breakthough came with his recording of "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," which was released in 1968 and was the first of Gaye's song to hit number one on Billboard's Hot 100 chart.

Despite his professional success, Gaye's life was taking a downward spiral. Terrell, his duet partner, had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor, and the news plunged Gaye into a depression that worsened when Terrell died in 1970. Gaye was also disillusioned with what he perceived was a lack of power over his own career. He considered himself a "puppet" of Motown found Berry Gordy, Jr., as well as of Gordy's sister, Anna, whom Gaye had married in 1964 and would ultimately divorce in 1977. After Terrell's death, Gaye took a break from Motown, but returned a few months later to record "What's Going On." Gordy deemed the song "too political" and refused to release it, but after Gaye went on strike, Gordy gave in. Almost immediately, the song reached the top spot on the R&B charts.

"What's Going On" album cover

During the 1970s, Gaye's work, which included the songs "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" and "Let's Get It On," garnered him critical acclaim and commercial success. On the surface, life was going well, but inside, Gaye was crumbling again. He had developed an addiction to cocaine, and also owed several million dollars in taxes. In an effort to evade the IRS, Gaye moved to Europe, and left Motown soon after because, he alleged, the company had released one of his recordings without his consent.

Life in Europe was good to Gaye; he cleaned up his addiction and signed on with CBS Records. Gaye also embarked on a comeback effort that included the 1982 release, "Sexual Healing," which hit number one on the R&B charts, made it into the top ten on the pop charts, and won two Grammy awards. However, while on tour to promote his album Midnight Love, Gaye reverted to old habits, using cocaine again, and, according to friends, becoming increasingly paranoid and suicidal.

Gaye's troubles came to a head at his parents' Los Angeles home on April 1, 1984. For days, the family had been arguing about a misplaced business document. That morning, Marvin Sr. brought up the issue again. Around 11:30 a.m., Gaye was sitting in his bedroom, talking to his mother, when the elder Marvin, shouting, tried to enter the room. According to Alberta, Gaye shoved his father, then hit him. These actions were, essentially, a death sentence, as Marvin Sr. had often told his children that if they laid a hand on him, he would kill them. Marvin Sr. returned to the room with a gun--a gift that Marvin Jr. had given him--and shot his son in the chest. Marvin Sr. then fired a second shot at point-blank range. Though Gaye survived for a few minutes, the first shot proved fatal, and he was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital an hour and a half later. Gaye had died the day before his 45th birthday.

Marvin Sr. was arrested, and insisted that he had fired at his son in self defense, and that he didn't know the gun was loaded. (Editor's note: This argument seems suspect to me, because if Marvin Sr. wasn't expecting the gun to contain bullets, why did he shoot his son a second time?) Perhaps most telling is the way Marvin Sr. answered the question, "Did you love your son?" His response? "Let's say I didn't dislike him."

Marvin Gay, Sr. being escorted by police

Ultimately, Marvin Sr. pleaded "no contest" to voluntary manslaughter and was sentenced to probation. Gaye's ashes were scattered over the Pacific Ocean. The man himself become the subject of scores of tributes from his musician friends, and was also inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Almost thirty years after his death, Gaye's work still receives accolades and awards from music critics and organizations across the world. The "Prince of Motown" may be gone, his legacy lives on.

An interview with Johnathan Rand, author of "Michigan Chillers"

Johnathan Rand gets a kick out of scaring kids…and the kids love it.

Rand is the author of the “Michigan Chillers” series of books that feature pre-teens taking on all manner of creepy things in various Michigan communities…poltergeists in Petoskey, aliens in Alpena, gargoyles in Gaylord (you get the picture). Since Rand published his first book, “Mayhem on Mackinac Island,” in 2000, the series has exploded in popularity, and now fills the shelves of bookstores across the state. “Michigan Chillers” has become so popular that it led Rand to create another series, “American Chillers,” that will eventually feature kids tackling weird goings-on in every state in the union. As if Rand isn’t busy enough, he also writes books for adult readers, and is the author of two additional children’s book series, “Freddie Fernortner, Fearless First Grader,” and “Adventure Club.” I recently spoke to Rand by phone while he was at Chillermania!, his store in Indian River that sells all of Rand's children’s books, as well as other products. 

Johnathan Rand

 

How did you start writing "Michigan Chillers"?

“It happened in a roundabout way. I had written adult fiction under the name ‘Christopher Knight,’  and while I was working on the second book, I was trying to come up with a metaphor for everything that was wonderful about northern Michigan. Like, if you put everything that’s wonderful in a bottle, and sold it on the shelf as a beverage, what would you call it? One of the names I came up with was a ‘Michigan Chiller.’ I kept thinking about that during the summer, about some of the scary books I had read as a kid, and how I could write scary stories about different cities in Michigan.”



Book 2, "Terror Stalks Traverse City"

 Describe what the “Michigan Chillers” are about.

“They’re spooky stories for kids ages seven to thirteen. They all have different main characters and they stand alone, so they don’t have to be read in any particular order. The kids in these books are pretty much on their own, having their own adventures and solving their own problems. They have to find their own way to get out of scary situations. There’s no blood, nobody dies. I write books like that for adults, but, again, those are for adults. Second graders are already exposed to too much of that stuff as-is. I want to make these books an enjoyable reading experience for them."

 

You publish the books yourself, right?

“Yes. I had pitched the idea to publishers, but I was pretty much rejected. One of the largest publishers in the world told me it was a good idea, but that kids aren’t reading that kind of thing anymore. And of course, now I’ve sold a million copies.”

Do you prefer publishing the books yourself?

“I do, especially after talking to other authors in the business. I’ve spoken to bestselling authors who can’t quit their day jobs because they don’t make enough money. [Self-publishing] is a lot of work because you’re responsible for all aspects of the product, but I’m glad I took that route. Early on I could handle everything myself, but now I have editors, an international events coordinator, an IT guy, an array of people to fill various shoes.”
 


Book 11, "Great Lakes Ghost Ship"

How did you know the books were becoming a hit?

“I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but right away the response was great. At the end of Book One, kids could read the first four chapters of Book Two. At the time, only Book One was available, so kids were coming into bookstores looking for Book Two. We started getting calls from bookstores asking for the next book, and it wasn’t even printed yet. That was an indication things were looking good. When we received our first order from a distributor for an entire case (65 books), my wife and I popped open a bottle of champagne. Now we get orders of 100 cases from a single customer.”

When you write your books, do you pick the “monster” first, then figure out the location, or is it the other way around?

“I start by picking a place. In most cases, it’s a place I’ve actually visited. Then I come up with several titles, and pick the title that I think is the best. If I know I have a good title, that gets me excited. Then I build the story around the title.”

What is one of your favorite “Michigan Chillers”?

“That would be one of the more recent ones, ‘Catastrophe in Caseville.’  Last year, I was looking at a website that advertised this huge cheeseburger festival that Caseville holds. It’s a ten-day festival that brings thousands upon thousands of people from around the country. Basically, it’s a big Jimmy Buffett bash. The pictures looked great, and I could imagine this giant cheeseburger destroying the city. The idea of a sandwich wrecking a town was fun.”
 

Book 16, "Catastrophe in Caseville"

What made you decide to write the “American Chillers” series?

“All along, I had been planning to write “American Chillers” if the “Michigan Chillers” series worked. I started getting letters from kids saying the same thing. It was like the kids were urging me on with an idea I already had.”

How many books do you write in a year?

“Typically around eight to ten, sometimes more or less. I could probably get more done in a year, but I travel from mid-September to May. It’s pretty extensive; I’m on the road for a week, home for the weekend, then on the road for two weeks. I can actually write on the road, though. I get up at 3:00 a.m., write until 6:00 or 7:00, then speak at colleges and schools, usually two or three a day. By 4:00 or 5:00 I’m back at the hotel and I hit the sack around 7:00 so that I can get up early again. It’s a magical time early in the morning; everybody’s quiet, and I can concentrate and focus.”

 

What’s in the future for you?

“As far as the ‘American Chillers’ go, I know I’m going to write one for every single state. I’ll continue writing the ‘Michigan Chillers’ series. I’ve had people ask me, ‘Will you write ‘International Chillers,’ but I don’t know about that.”

What do you read when you’re not writing?

“I will read just about anything and everything. I like scary stuff, but I also read autobiographies, kids’ books, just about everything.”

 

What is one of your favorite places to visit, or your favorite things to do, in Michigan?

“I grew up fly fishing the Au Sable River in Grayling, and I love going to the U.P. once a year to rent a cabin in as remote of an area as I can find. I spend two weeks writing, hiking, fly fishing. It’s so desolate, it’s like a whole different country.”

 

#     #     #

For more information:

Johnathan Rand's website

Alexis St. Martin: The man with a hole in his stomach

Alexis St. Martin lived one of the weirdest lives on record. Not only was he unfortunate enough to have part of his stomach blown off during an accidental shooting on Mackinac Island in 1822, he also spent the next ten years as guinea pig to a doctor who, among other things, dangled bits of food into St. Martin's unhealed wound to study the effects of digestion (a process that wasn't well understood at the time).

(Now that you've read the above paragraph, let me issue a disclaimer: If you're at all squeamish, it might be best to skip this post [or at least parts of it]).

St. Martin was a 20-year-old Canadian voyageur who, in June 1822, worked as a fur trader for the American Fur Company. (Side note: Some sources claim that St. Martin was born in 1794, which would have made him 28 in 1822, but this information is incorrect. St. Martin had a brother, also named Alexis, who was born in 1794 and who died in 1802. It's the older Alexis these sources are inadvertently referring to, not the "guinea pig" Alexis, who was born the same year his older brother died, in 1802.) During a stop at a Mackinac Island trading post, a fellow voyageur accidentally discharged his musket, spraying birdshot into St. Martin's left side. Dr. William Beaumont, a physician at nearby Fort Mackinac, was quickly summoned, and though Beaumont treated the victim, he expressed doubt that St. Martin would survive.



St. Martin in his later years, proving that he did, in fact, survive.

St. Martin defeated the odds and overcame his injuries...except for one. The edge of the wound in his stomach had attached to the edge of the hole in his skin, forming a fistula (in essence, a passageway) that provided easy access to whatever was going on in St. Martin's stomach. Beaumont realized the research opportunities that St. Martin presented. Because the voyageur's injury prevented him from going back to work for the American Fur Company, Beaumont hired St. Martin as a laborer, assigning him chores like chopping wood, hauling heavy items, and letting Beaumont dip bits of food attached to silk strings into his stomach so that the doctor could observe the digestion process. Beaumont made many discoveries and published his findings, becoming known as a preeminent expert in human digestion, and eventually earning the very specific title of "Father of Gastric Physiology."



Dr. William Beaumont

 

In 1825, Beaumont moved to Fort Niagara in New York, and St. Martin accompanied him. However, the former voyageur grew tired of his work with Beaumont, and returned to Canada, where he married and eventually fathered several children. (St. Martin could live a relatively normal life by putting a plug in his fistula to prevent things from getting in or out.) St. Martin intermittently reunited with Beaumont so that the latter could conduct more experiments, but their partnership ended in 1832 when, while working with Beaumont in Washington, D.C., St. Martin received word that one of his children had died in Canada. St. Martin left, and though he and Beaumont discussed plans to resume their experiments, he never returned.

Beaumont eventually moved to St. Louis, Missouri, where he died of a closed-head injury in 1853 after slipping on ice. St. Martin survived for a few more decades, dying in 1880. To dissuade curiosity seekers who might want to conduct illicit autopsies on him, St. Martin's family left his body in the sun to decompose, then buried him in a secret location that wasn't revealed until 1962.

While St. Martin's position in history has essentially been that of a footnote, Beaumont is still esteemed, especially in the state where his revolutionary experiments began. He is the namesake of William Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, Troy, and Grosse Pointe, as well as the Oakland University William Beaumont School of Medicine. To try to even the score, albeit in a small way, I'll end this post with a photo of Alexis St. Martin and his wife, Marie, obviously well into their golden years, but still enjoying each other's company. (Well, at least Alexis is....I'm not so sure about Marie.)

Marie and Alexis St. Martin

For More Information:

In 2012, the "Radiolab" radio show ran a piece that, in part, told the story of William Beaumont and Alexis St. Martin. You can find it here: "Holey Cow"

In 1956, the television show "Medic" aired an episode dedicated to the Beaumont/St. Martin story. Here's the clip, from YouTube: "Who Search for Truth"

Author Jason Karlawish has written a novel about the Mackinac Island incident and its aftermath, called "Open Wound." I own this book, but haven't read it yet. It's gotten rave reviews, so I can't wait to dig in (no pun intended). You can find it on Amazon here: "Open Wound"