Ann Arbor 200 is proud to debut a newly-created piece that is both a map and a work of art: the Natural Ann Arbor Map by Marcy Marchello. The Natural Ann Arbor Map focuses on the nature of Ann Arbor, featuring both contemporary and historical elements. It is an expression of place, rather than a navigational tool, highlighting the Huron River, parks, trails, wildlife and more. Hand-drawn illustrations and text form a mosaic of information that opens the viewer to new understanding.

The Natural Ann Arbor Map is available for sale as an art print and provides alternative frames of reference compared to conventional road maps. Marcy’s map is oriented to the watershed and historical paths of travel through the area. You won’t find most of the built elements in town you are used to seeing and yet you are likely to see something new with multiple viewings!

The Natural Ann Arbor Map evolved over 8 years, through Marcy's explorations while in town visiting family, online research, and 500 hours in the studio. Everything on the map was drawn multiple times to position elements for lively interaction and meaning. 

Marcy is thrilled to offer the Natural Ann Arbor Map to the community during Ann Arbor’s bicentennial year. The art print is available in both black and white ($40) and in color ($75), in a 24” x 36” size, printed with soy-based inks on 30% post-consumer waste recycled paper. The color edition can be purchased downtown at Found Gallery. Both maps can be purchased online at Ferncliff Studio on Etsy.  You can learn more about Marcy and how she developed the map on the Ferncliff Studio site.

About the Artist:

Marcy is an Ann Arbor native who grew up in Dixboro and lives in Massachusetts, where she is an adaptive outdoor recreation manager for Massachusetts State Parks. While her livelihood is in service to quality of life for others, she has been an artist and naturalist since childhood.  Born of two very creative parents - both graduates of the U of M School of Art - Marcy’s graphic arts have taken various forms, including cards and stationery, nature journaling, and custom maps of natural places. 

Marcy recalls, “As a child, while riding in the backseat of the family car, I noticed how the cloverleaf at Plymouth Road and I-23 had brought about a change in the landscape compared to what it must have been previously. I always wanted to go back in time to experience the landscape as it was before Europeans came. This map both celebrates present nature and offers a sense of peeling back time to reveal some of the underpinnings of the area.”

She attended Huron H.S. (‘76-‘79) and the U of M School of Art briefly, worked at Ulrich’s Books as an art department manager, then left Ann Arbor to pursue her “collage” degree. Marcy traveled on the National Audubon Expedition Institute for 2 years, followed by a year at Prescott College in Arizona, earning a B.S. in Environmental Education from Lesley College (now University) in Cambridge, MA. 

With much gratitude, Marcy thanks the following people for their time and support in evaluating the project in process:

• Becky Hand, Natural Area Preservation
• Bev Willis and John Kilar, Washtenaw County Historical Society
• Dave Szczygiel, Ann Arbor Public Schools
• Andrew MacLaren, Ann Arbor District Library
• Paul Steen, Huron River Watershed Council
• Anita Daly, Huron River Watershed Council

This project was created to highlight the history and progress related to voting and voter rights in Ann Arbor throughout the last 200 years. In preparing these posters, City Clerk's Office staff researched the history of voter registration, student voting, polling places, voting technology, and the ever-increasing ways Ann Arbor residents can access the ballot box. We hope you enjoy!

Intro panel reading "200 Years of A2Votes" with white writing on blue background and descriptive paragraph on green background

Panel titled "Voter Registration" on green background with descriptive text and photos of people gathered around tables

Panel titled "Polling Places" on blue background with descriptive text and photos of people lined up in gyms and signs saying "vote here"

Panel titled "Voting Technology" on teal background with descriptive text and photos of people using voting machines from the late 1940s to 2000s

Panel titled "Student Voting" on green background with descriptive text and photos of people holding voting signs and gathering at polling places

Panel titled "Ward Maps" on blue background with descriptive text and images of old and new maps

Panel titled "Access to the Ballot Box" on teal background with descriptive text and photos of people voting or in line to vote

Images from the Ann Arbor News:

Voter Registration
Darwin L. Wood Registers To Vote With Carport "Curb Service", June 1952
Last Day of Voting Registration, July 1952

Voting Technology
Ann Arbor Voting Machine, April 1963
Mrs. Edward Moore Exits A Voting Machine In Ann Arbor's Fifth Ward Polling Place, November 1946
Sharon & Linda Seyfried Learn About Voting Machines During The Primary Election At The Burns Park Voting Place, August 1952

Polling Places
Busy Election Year Begins, April 1956
Mrs. John McClendon Arrives At Jones School To Vote In The City Election, April 1968
Voters Wait To Cast Their Election Ballots In Ann Arbor's Fifth Ward Polling Place, November 1946

Student Voting
University of Michigan Dames Model "Let's Vote For Fashion" Ensembles, November 1964
Boy Scouts Re-Enact Poster Urging Residents To Vote, October 1956
Members Of Ann Arbor High's Homecoming Court In The Get-Out-The-Vote Rally Parade, October 1956
Voting In the First Ward, Fourth Precinct, April 1973
'Should 18-Year-Olds Be Allowed To Vote?', July 1966

Ward Maps
Ann Arbor's Ward Boundaries To Be Redrawn, September 1964

Access to the Ballot Box
Ann Arbor Second Ward Voters Lined Up Before Polls Open For The 1952 Presidential Election, November 1952
Ann Arbor Voters Wait To Cast Their Ballots For The 1952 Presidential Election, November 1952
Phillis Engelbert & Son Submit Their Election Ballot At Northside School, November 1997

Introduction

The Ann Arbor Public Library traces its origins from two strands, public and private: the high school library started in 1856, and the Ladies Library Association founded in 1866. But both of these groups had predecessors, the high school library in the township district libraries and the Ladies Library Association in four earlier book lending groups.

Early Library History

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For a few, brief years in the 1870s the Mozart Watch Factory of Ann Arbor was on the rise to rival the best watchmakers in America. Don Joaquin Mozart was one of Michigan’s “most promising inventors.” Called a “genius” in the New York Times, he patented 11 inventions related to clockwork. Yet his business skills never quite lived up to his innovations and he died in the county poorhouse. 

Patent for an "automatic fan" by Don J. Mozart, 1856

A Family Missing & A Family Made

The details of Mozart’s early life are uncertain. He was born in Italy sometime between 1820 and 1826 and moved to America with his family near the age of three. His father’s occupation varies by the source: he was a watchmaker and his son took after him, or a street musician distantly related to the more famous Mozart, or a man of wealth who fled Italy for political reasons and was assassinated in America. None of these are particularly likely, but what can be said with more confidence is that he died when Don was young. 

The remaining Mozart family ended up in the Boston area. It was near the harbor there, when Don was around the age of 9, that he was lured onto a ship “by the promise of curious shells” and taken out to sea. It wasn’t uncommon for ships to capture young men or boys as crew members when they couldn’t find volunteers for arduous journeys, and they often preyed upon poor immigrants. Young Don Mozart sailed for seven years. He searched for his family when he returned, but his efforts failed and he never saw his mother or siblings again.

Fending for himself, Don found work as a tradesman where his skill at mechanics became clear. By age 30 or so he was the established owner of a jewelry store in Xenia, Ohio and filed his first patent for an “automatic fan” propelled by clockwork. The patent advertised a quieter machine that would be particularly useful for fanning the sick or sleeping, and keeping bugs away. With his profession secured, he married Anna Maria Huntington on September 4, 1854.

Don and Anna started their family in Ohio, welcoming their first daughter, Donna Zeralla, on February 28, 1857 and then their second, Estella Gertrude, on November 28, 1858. Don continued to invent, patenting an improved clock escapement (the mechanism that moves the timepiece’s hands at precise intervals) in 1859 wherein he listed himself as a resident of Yellow Springs, Ohio. By 1862 the family had relocated to New York City and welcomed one more daughter, Anna Violet. 

Mozart & Co. jewelry store advertisement, Michigan Argus, January 18, 1867

Career Clockmaker

As a resident of New York Don patented another improved clock and watch escapement in 1863 with Levi Beach and Laporte Hubbell credited alongside him. The three men followed this in January 1864 with a simplified and more compact calendar clock that claimed to register leap years and run for a year with one winding.

Don’s talents gained him enough recognition that a company was created to produce his patents. The Mozart Watch Company was established in the spring of 1864 in Providence, Rhode Island and the family relocated there. Capital of $100,000 was secured along with a factory and machinery. Then, before any product seems to have been produced, the stockholders pulled out in the spring of 1866. No distinct reason could be found to explain their change of heart, other than a new belief that they wouldn’t earn a return on their investment. Don was replaced as superintendent, the company was renamed the New York Watch Company and, in contrast to the name, moved to Springfield, Massachusetts. 

Less than a year later, in January of 1867, Don Mozart began anew in Ann Arbor. Advertisements for “Mozart & Co,” a dealer in clocks, watches, jewelry, and silver-plated ware, ran in the Michigan Argus. The shop was located in the Gregory Block on the corner of Huron and Main. Still tinkering with timepieces, his first patent in this new era was filed in July of 1867 wherein he listed himself as living in New York despite his new store in Michigan. Regardless of the residency, the patent was granted on December 24, 1867 and became the basis of his even greater business venture in Ann Arbor. 

Michigan’s Mozart Watch Company

An Illustration of the "Three-Wheeled" watch, based on the December 24, 1867 patent

By the summer of 1868 the second Mozart Watch Company was progressing in Ann Arbor. According to a July 24, 1868 article in the Michigan Argus, “the capital for testing the invention has been furnished, a building secured in which to commence operations, an engine put up, the best of machinery purchased, and a force of experienced mechanics set to work, not exactly making Watches, but making tools with which to stock the factory.” The goal was to produce watches based on the recently issued patent that contained no dead-center or setting-point and required only a small number of parts, allowing for cheaper production.

The company’s growth continued, occupying three stories of Dr. Chase's building according to the February 19, 1869 issue of the Michigan Argus. The article concluded, “We shall expect to see the company soon turning out A. No. 1 watches.” On New Years Eve 1869 a gold watch was presented to Reverend Charles H. Brigham of the First Unitarian Church, confirming that the Mozart Watch Company had managed to start production.

Just six months later the Michigan Argus was pleading with citizens to prevent the company from leaving the city. It had “turned out a number of beautiful watches,” but “the few men who took hold of the enterprise find themselves without means to prosecute the work on the large scale which is necessary to make it a success, and that they have not met the encouragement and support which they had a right to expect from the community at large.” 

Advisors to businessmen from Milwaukee and New York had visited the factory to assess the machinery and patent’s chances of success. “The agent of the Milwaukee parties – a practical man – pronounces the watch, and clock soon to come out, a perfect success…If Milwaukee men stand ready to invest $300,000 in it, cannot our capitalists be induced to invest one third of that sum to retain it here?”

The appeals went unanswered and a group from Rock Island, Illinois bought out the Mozart Watch Company, renaming it the Rock Island Watch Company. Then, like in Providence, the company failed to produce anything before the stockholders withdrew their support. A lawsuit commenced in the fall of 1871, alleging fraud in the sale. The battle concluded in the fall 1873 when it was dissolved after an appeal.

Panic & Final Patents

Just as the court case was wrapping up a greater worry replaced it. The financial panic of 1873 swept the nation and the local banking house of Miller & Webster closed its doors for good in September of that year. The Michigan Argus reported that “a large share of the losses will fall upon parties illy able to bear them,” and this seems to have included Don Mozart. 

Advertisement from the Michigan Argus, November 21, 1873

Don had always been reliant upon his strengths in innovation. He is recounted as saying, “that he never knew the time when, if he was short of money, he could not hide himself in a hole for a month, and work out an idea that would bring him $1,000.” The article concludes that “money has come to him so easily he has valued it little, has spent it with a prodigal generosity, not to say reckless, and having, most of his life, no special occasion for what is called business shrewdness has in later years been victimized by speculators in his genius.” As he had all his life, he persisted, and that same fall the Michigan Argus included an advertisement for watch repairs by Don Mozart.  

Before the loss of his savings, Don had filed a series of three patents that were approved in July of 1873: another improved escapement, an upgrade to calendar clocks, and a self winding watch. This trio held the potential to earn his savings back. They were designed to be used together in one watch that would include dials showing the month, day of the month, day of the week, AM or PM, quarter seconds, seconds, minutes and hour. It would be wound by the user opening and shutting the watch case five or six times a day and no damage would be sustained by heavier use. He is said to have gone to New York to find funding, but the wealthy residents who would be able to offer the capital were away at their summer homes and he was told to return later.

Always seeking improvement, he took a portion of the watch apart during the interim and lost a piece of it in the process. He was never able to figure out how to put it together again. Before he could return to New York, he lost control of his mind. On December 2, 1874, Don Mozart was taken to what was then known as the “Michigan Asylum for the Insane” in Kalamazoo. Reports claimed that his “fits of temporary insanity” had been going on “for some time” and that up until his removal to Kalamazoo “he was talking extravagantly but coherently enough, of his brilliant prospects and the wealth and success that awaited him, and detailed to friends minutely the terms of an agreement that he claimed to have just made with persons in New York, though he had never gone to that City after his visit in the early Summer.”

The papers attributed his loss of reality to “the strain upon his mind made by his newly invented watch” and the failure of Miller & Webster. In 1875 he was moved to the Washtenaw County Poor House, and died there on March 15, 1877 at the reported age of 58. He was buried at Forest Hill Cemetery and obituaries were carried in papers across the country. 

Collectible Chronometers

It is difficult to determine exactly how many Mozart watches were finished. Estimates vary from 13, to 30, to only a few. The examples that were reported on or have since been located often contain personalized engravings indicating that they were made for investors and friends. They remain as exemplary samples of American watchmaking and their rarity makes them highly sought after by collectors. 

Photos of the Mozart Watch sold by Bonhams, 2016

In 2016, a "Chronometer-Lever Escapement" watch signed "Mozart Watch Co., Ann Arbor, Mich., No. 7, Don J. Mozart Patent Dec. 24, 1868" was sold by the auction house Bonhams for $5,250 (the patent date seemed to be a mistake, corresponding instead with the patent of December 24, 1867). Sotheby's auctioned another in 2004 as part of their “Masterpieces from the Time Museum” group. 

Remaining watches can be found as part of the National Watch and Clock Museum, the Paul M. Chamberlain collection, which was displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago in 1921 and found a permanent home at Michigan State University, and the Washtenaw County Historical Society.

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Andye Fulton with her camera at an outdoor rock concert, 1970 (Photo by Doug Fulton)

The Andrea Fulton Concert Collection includes over 500 photos from local concerts featuring rock, soul, R&B, and blues bands performing, recording, and sometimes just posing for promotional shots. Several local and regional bands from the late 1960s and 1970s are here in Andrea's collection -- from local groups like Guardian Angel, Carnal Kitchen, and the Mojo Boogie Band to regional and national acts like Sixto Rodriguez, Mitch Ryder, and Bob Seger. 

Bob Seger performs at Crisler Arena, February 11, 1976

Andrea Lee Fulton grew up with music from all cultures and genres. The first music she heard -- on the day she was born -- was Bach. She recalls an enlightened and exciting childhood: "My dad was hip, my mom was groovy. We all kinda became hippies together.” 

So it was no surprise that when rock-n-roll came to Ann Arbor, Andrea was all ears. And as she grooved to the music, she picked up a camera. Her father, Doug Fulton, an editor at the Ann Arbor News, was an accomplished photographer, so photography was in her blood. Most of the photographs in the collection are Andrea's; a few are Doug's. (Additional concert photos are available in AADL's Doug Fulton Online Exhibit.) 

Gary Rasmussen at Gallup Park, 1970 

While Doug is best known for his photographs of outdoor environmental activity and the blues greats who came to the Ann Arbor Blues & Jazz Festivals, Andrea was on the scene in the 1970s to snap photos from the backstages and front rows of over 100 concerts. Andrea (then known as Andye) also worked for concert organizers as a Psychedelic Ranger to assist with crowd control, parking, security, and first aid. At 17, legendary Ann Arbor concert promoter Peter Andrews hired her as the box office manager for Daystar Productions where her job included picking up tickets at the airport, selling seats in the Michigan Union, and manning the box office at Hill Auditorium or Crisler Arena. Andrea recalls some highlights from this period:

John Lennon and Yoko Ono at the John Sinclair Freedom Rally, December 1971

"I remember getting cheeseburgers for Yoko Ono, burning one with John Prine behind the P. Bell, and the night Bonnie Raitt stayed in my bedroom after one of dad's famous all-night BBQs following the Sunday Blues Festival. I’ve seen Bob Seger a dozen times. Mitch Ryder. The Rationals. The Lost Planet Airmen with Commander Cody. SRC. Savage Grace. The Up. MC5. I hung out at 1510 Hill Street [home of the Trans-Love Commune, John Sinclair, and the MC5], and was friends with the Mojo Boogie Band, brothers Jim & Terry Tate, and sax genius, Steve Mackay. Venues included the 5th Dimension, Flood’s, Flicks, and the West Park Love In’s at age 15. That was my Ann Arbor life! I was so in the moment and had no idea how incredible my life was. So I’m grateful to have these images now. Revisiting my young self 55 years later, I can tell you -- I’m still that rock and roll hippie at heart.”  

Browse the Andrea Fulton Concert Collection 

Some of the subjects of these photos aren't recognized by us and are beyond our ability to identify. If you recognize a performer or venue, please add a comment to the photo to help enrich this collection!

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Grace Bigby Outside "The Broadway" Card Shop, June 1970

In 1960, housewife Demaris Cash (Dee, to her friends) was forced to confront how she would provide for her family if she lost her husband, Travis, who had recently survived his second heart attack. The couple had two daughters: Janis, who had been diagnosed with muscular dystrophy, and Elaine. At a luncheon with friends, the idea of a consignment store was floated and soon Demaris was on the search for a business partner. 

Unlike Demaris, who had never held a job outside of the home, Grace Bigby was an experienced businesswoman. Her entrepreneurship began around 1945 when she learned to mount figure skating blades for her daughters. As her daughters grew it became wasteful to keep purchasing new skates, so she started a skate exchange and blade mounting enterprise. In 1966, she added a gift and card store to her ventures at 1115 Broadway in the converted old Northside Baptist church and she moved her skate business into the basement there. 

Treasure Mart Exterior, 1978

The Beginning

Grace and Demaris had never previously met, but after Grace heard of Demaris’s business idea they exchanged a phone call and soon were signing a lease for 529 Detroit Street. The old industrial brick building was originally constructed in 1869 as a steam wood planing mill, the second at that location after a previous mill had burned down. It was operated by John G. Miller, who lived next door at 521 Detroit Street. The large commercial space had lived many lives, having previously been home to a machine shop, furniture store, toy company, and a produce distributor. The pair’s plan to open a retail shop required a vision, and some remodeling. 

They named their store Treasure Mart and their first sale was a matter of fate. Demaris had learned that her daughter’s dance instructor was looking for a chandelier. A sign was hung during construction to announce a future resale business. As painting was still underway a man who had taken notice of the upcoming store stopped to offer up a chandelier. Demaris was a pious woman and saw that her prayers had been answered; she brokered the exchange. 

Grace and Demaris’s partnership fit their strengths. Grace handled the financials and bookkeeping, while Demaris managed the inventory. After 15 years, family illness led Grace to leave the business and the Cashes stepped in. Treasure Mart became a family corporation owned with daughters Janis and Elaine, along with Elaine’s husband, Carl Johns.

Treasure Mart Interior, September 1960

The Business

Treasure Mart’s sales floor encompassed the building’s three stories and a garage. Each level was filled to the brim with furniture, antiques, collectibles, and home decor of all sizes and eras. Items were brought in by consignors who paid an annual membership fee and earned a percentage of the item’s profit once it was sold. If something didn’t sell after a few months the price would be reduced, as would the profit. By 2018 the store had 1,000 consignors and a two-month wait for members looking to join. The specifics changed throughout the years, but in 2018 the annual fee was $25 and sellers earned 65 percent of the sold price, or 50 percent for items listed at less than $4.

Treasure Mart went through expansions and experiments throughout its 60 years. The company tried its hand at managing estate sales and used them as a means to collect inventory. The popularity of the consignment led to franchises and by 1979 Treasure Marts could be found in Elyria, Ohio; Kokomo, Indiana; Minneapolis; Bloomington, Illinois; and Flint. Travis Cash's health had improved and in 1962, soon after his heart attack that had spurred Demaris into starting Treasure Mart, he retired from his career as a Quaker Oil Salesman. In order to fill his time he began to manage a few racks of clothing at the store. In 1963, after outgrowing the allotted space, he founded “The Tree" for clothing consignment just up the block from Treasure Mart at 419 Detroit Street. 

Travis Cash At The Tree, July 1974

Demaris Cash At Treasure Mart, April 1989

The Second Generation

Janis Cash At Treasure Mart, July 1979

In 1982, twenty years after his retirement, Travis Cash passed away and Demaris became the proprietor of both Treasure Mart and The Tree. The following year the family was able to purchase Treasure Mart's building and the house next door that had once belonged to John G. Miller.  

When Treasure Mart was established Grace was 50 and Demaris was 55 -- ages when a person is more likely to be planning for retirement than entrepreneurship. Demaris could be found greeting customers at the store into her 80s, but after developing Alzheimer’s Disease she spent her final years at the Chelsea Retirement Center. She passed away in February of 2001, two weeks after Grace.

Elaine was teaching in St. Joseph, Michigan when she decided to come home to help her mother with the store in the summer of 1974. After that, she never left. Carl joined her soon after and the two took over the store’s management in 1995 as her mother’s health was declining, with Janis remaining as a co-owner.

After the loss of both parents, and increased competition from chain stores like Value World, Janis and Elaine made the difficult decision to close The Tree in 2005. Manager Josephine Watne was 83 and had been there for all but two of the store’s 43 years. 

The Treasure Mart remained an Ann Arbor staple, but the family confronted more obstacles in November of 2019 when Elaine was diagnosed with ALS. The Johnses had a balanced partnership like Demaris and Grace before them. Travis worked the floor and took care of billing and payroll while Elaine worked in the office. Alongside Elaine's diagnosis, Carl had gone through a series of pacemakers and their adult children had pursued careers of their own.

Treasure Mart had begun in response to health complications and now was ending for the same reasons. The building and business were listed for sale together in January of 2020 with the hopes of finding an owner to maintain the consignment.

Elaine Johns, Demaris Cash and Carl Johns inside Treasure Mart, October 1995

The End

The surrounding neighborhood had changed immensely in the store’s 60 years. Treasure Mart moved in when it was still "The Old Neighborhood'' and industrial works could be found nearby. When it came time to sell, real estate in what's now known as “Kerrytown” was highly sought after. The Johnses acknowledged that their vision for the store’s continuance may lose out to the building's redevelopment potential. 

The store's listing closely pre-dated the COVID-19 pandemic precautions that disallowed dense in-person shopping. It was a historically bad time to get into business and no buyer came forward. The store's permanent closure was announced in a Facebook post in June of 2020.

At Treasure Mart, it was common for employee's tenures to last a decade, or multiple. Frequent customers and consignors could expect to be greeted by the same faces, including the Cash and Johns family members. Both generations of owners had emphasized that Treasure Mart was always about the community of people who shopped and worked there. The hundreds of comments and likes that flooded in to profess gratitude and well wishes in the wake of the imminent closure proved that to be true.

Five months later, in November of 2020, Elaine (Cash) Johns passed away. She was followed two years later by her sister Janis (Cash) Raber, who lived in Florida and, true to the family business, had established herself as an antique dealer. 

The building was purchased in 2021 by the nondenominational Redeemer Ann Arbor church for $2 million with plans to undertake renovations and restoration. Treasure Mart may be gone, but the cherished finds and relationships formed there remain throughout Ann Arbor.

529 Detroit Street Under Renovation, July 19, 2024

Treasure Mart, May 1, 2020

The Ann Arbor District Library’s LGBTQ+ Walking Tour documents historical locations important to the queer community, pulling from interviews with community members in podcasts like AADL’S Gayest Generation, LGBTQ+ Washtenaw oral histories, and other archival collections. We heard from community members about their favorite hangouts over the decades, including bars, bookstores, and sites of political advancement for LGBTQ+ rights. This tour walks you through important locations, some of which have changed over the years and may no longer exist.

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Markham Pottery. Vase. Glazed Earthenware. Diameter: 5 5/8 in. (14.29 cm) Height: 7 1/8 in. (18.1 cm). Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

In 1948, a new street named Madison Place was constructed in Ann Arbor. Before the first two homes (615 & 621 Madison Place) could be built, developer W. O. Edwards had to demolish the remains of a large, conical, concrete pottery kiln on the property. This kiln, which hadn't been fired since before 1911, was the last physical trace of Ann Arbor's internationally renowned Markham Pottery complex. The business had once flourished behind Herman Markham's house, until a spectacular fire completely leveled the pottery works, save for a few free-standing kilns.

The Markham Family

Herman Cornelius Markham was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan in 1850 to a farm family from Connecticut. His parents were Augustine & Electa (Henion) Markham. His grandfather, Isaac Markham, was a revolutionary war soldier who had reportedly fought in the Battle of Bunker Hill. In his adult life, Herman proudly displayed his grandfather's flintlock musket in his Ann Arbor home. Herman married Ione Sprague in October of 1876. In November 1877 their only child, Kenneth Sprague Markham, was born.

Herman, like several of his siblings, was well-educated and had a wide range of skills and interests. He attended the University of Michigan where he focused on Chemistry, Anthropology, and Archaeology. Around Ann Arbor he was known primarily as a farmer and an apiarist, serving as the Superintendent of Bees & Honey in the Washtenaw County Agricultural Society. According to many newspaper reports, he was an employee of the University of Michigan's Department of Archaeology for several years. He was also a skilled wood engraver, watercolorist, occasional traveling salesman, and very briefly worked as a clerk at The Crescent Works, Ann Arbor's corset factory.

Herman C. Markham, Undated, Courtesy of the Markham Family

Herman C. Markham, Undated, Courtesy of the Markham Family
 

Ann Arbor Clay

If you follow Madison Street west through Ann Arbor, it ends at Seventh Street where the the Old Walnut Heights condominiums now look down from a hill. In the late 1800s, when this section of Seventh was still known as Jewett Avenue, the Markham family home crowned this high ground. A large bed of roses sat alongside the house, which complemented Herman's bees, and a tributary of Allen's Creek ran through the backyard.

All accounts of Markham Pottery's beginnings point to the roses as the inspiration. As the story goes, Herman Markham loved to display his roses and never had enough vases for all his fine flowers. He was also frustrated by water in vases quickly turning warm and causing the roses to wilt. In the manner of someone who is generally handy, with interests in chemistry and archaeology, he decided to craft a vase out of clay dug out of his yard and fired it in his home's fireplace. His first attempts at pottery making were untrained and undecorated, but achieved his goal of creating simple, natural forms that would keep water cool. He even crafted a potters wheel for his experiments, made from an old sewing machine and a jig saw.

The clay found on his Ann Arbor property would continue to be his creative material of choice as his foray into the world of pottery expanded. After the clay was dug, it would be washed, screened, and repeatedly graded. When a creamy, fine medium was achieved, it would be thrown on the makeshift wheel. Molds were constructed from successful pieces, and then could be duplicated. As Markham Pottery grew from a hobby project into a marketable business, Herman Markham constructed a simple wood building on the open land behind his home to use as a workshop.

"Markham Pottery; BL004793." In the digital collection Bentley Historical Library: Bentley Image Bank. https://quod.lib.umich.edu/b/bhl/x-bl004793/bl004793. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. 
1904 - 1910, Ann Arbor

"Utile" mark: UP cipher, incised.
Art historians point to 1904 as when Herman committed to his pottery business as his main source of income. Herman Markham referred to his first pieces as "Utile" and incised the bottoms with a special cipher (see image). The name came from his desire to craft utilitarian vases that would not overshadow the beauty of the roses they would hold. As his work developed more distinct characteristics, and as dealers and friends urged him to personalize his pottery, he changed the name to Markham and incised the bottoms with his signature and an individual piece number (see image). In 1905 the Ann Arbor City Directory lists Herman Markham's occupation as "pottery" for the first time. The same was listed for Kenneth, Herman's son, who worked as an assistant in the family business.

In January 1906, the Ann Arbor Argus-Democrat published the article "New Local Industry Steadily Developing" about the growth and success of Markham Pottery. "The beautiful work of which is growing another plume in Ann Arbor's illustrious bonnet," declared the newspaper. The shape of Markham pots and vessels were all based on classical forms. Their surface appeal was the unique earth tones and textures, which look like delicate etchings, appearing as if they might have been recently unearthed by archaeologists. Matte in finish, with no two pieces the same, the glaze was a secret formula that Herman Markham developed with, in his words, "varied combinations of chemical, physical and mechanical forces." Throughout his career, he carefully guarded his glazing process, only revealing that the designs formed naturally like frost on a window pane. He was often interviewed about his work, and would let visitors watch his entire system of creating pottery, except for when the glaze was applied. Markham Pottery was crafted in two styles of surface known as reseau (finely textured) and arabesque (coarsely textured).

Markham Pottery. Arabesque Vase #4534. Glazed Earthenware. 4.25″h x 2.75″. Private Collection.

Markham Pottery. Pitcher. Glazed Stoneware. 11 1/8 in. x 3 9/16 in. x 5 3/4 in. University of Michigan Museum Of Art.
 

Markham Pottery never advertised their business, but demand grew steadily. Pieces were featured in exhibitions and galleries across the United States and Europe, and were sought after by collectors. In 1907, the Ann Arbor News-Argus ran a story on Markham Pottery, "A Story Of One Man's Genius", featuring photos of work crafted for the upcoming Brussels International Exposition of 1910. Markham Pottery even contracted with large businesses like Chicago's Marshall Fields, all while remaining a small business run by only two men.

Signature: incised
 

Markham Pottery. Reseau Vase #3578. ca.1908-1910. Glazed Earthenware. 4.25″h x 3.75″ d. Private Collection.
1911 - 1912, Tragedy

On August 23, 1911, the front page of the Daily Times News featured two tragic art world headlines: "Famous Painting Stolen", which detailed the theft of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre, and "Markham Pottery Burns", which detailed the destruction of Markham's workshop. University of Michigan Professor Hugo Paul Thieme was an avid collector of Markham Pottery. When he built a new home in Ann Arbor, he commissioned the Markhams to craft fireplace tile for his hearth. These pieces were drying, in preparation for firing, on the day of the accident. According to the story, which ran in newspapers across the country, an oil stove used to dry the hearthstones overheated and set fire to the pottery workshop while Herman Markham was on a lunch break. The entire workshop, with seven years of tools, molds, and machinery, was completely destroyed. "It's hard to estimate our loss," said Markham when interviewed by a reporter. Over one thousand pieces of pottery were lost in the fire, and five hundred and fifty of them were intended for Professor Thieme's home. After the fire, a small committee was formed in Ann Arbor to financially assist Markham Pottery in rebuilding their business. Professor Thieme was one of the committee members. The Daily Times News ran an editorial urging local citizens to lend their support, for fear that they might lose Markham Pottery to another city.

1913 - 1921, National City, California

Although Markham Pottery had thrived in Ann Arbor, production had always halted during the cold winter months of Michigan. It's difficult to dig clay out of frozen ground. Faced with the task of rebuilding his business, Herman Markham decided it was time to relocate to a warmer climate where he could work year round. Much to the dismay of many individuals and other businesses in Ann Arbor, he traveled to California in search of a new home and work space. The most important factor in the move would be finding a steady source of clay comparable to the supply found on his Ann Arbor property. In National City, just south of San Diego, the Markhams received an invitation to visit the the California China Products Company, and found what they were looking for.

National City Star-News, National City, California, September 13, 1913, Front Page

California China Products Company, National City, California, Ca. 1912
The California China Products Company (CCPCo) was founded in 1911 by mineralogist John H. McKnight & Walter and Charles B. Nordhoff. (Charles B. Nordhoff was best known as the co-author of Mutiny On The Bounty, but that is another story for another time.) Mining the extensive clay deposits around San Diego County, they manufactured high-quality porcelain, earthenware, and ceramic tile. The Nordhoffs and the Markhams formed a symbiotic relationship. The Markhams moved into a portion of the CCPCo space, using their equipment, kilns, and clay supply, to get their business back on its feet. The Nordhoffs benefitted financially having Markham Pottery as a tenant. November 29, 1913's edition of The San Diego Sun announced "The new Markham pottery at National City started manufacturing operations this week."

Markham Pottery. Reseau Vase #6990. ca. 1914. Glazed Earthenware. 5 h × 7½ dia in (13 × 19 cm). Private Collection, California.
It didn't take long for Markham Pottery to rebuild their business. For example, in 1914 they signed a $35,000 contract to furnish 100,000 souvenir ice cream steins for San Diego's upcoming Panama–California Exposition (1915 - 1917). In today's money, that contract is worth more than a million dollars. Within two years, they left their temporary space at CCPCo, and moved to their own studio and kiln. Kenneth Markham got married in National City on December 13, 1917. He and his father continued to work as a team, only halting production temporarily when Ione Sprague Markham died in late January 1919. During the last few years of Markham Pottery, Herman often did speaking engagements around the San Diego area. He still had the very first vase he had crudely constructed back in Ann Arbor, and shared it with his audiences to show how far his idea had progressed. He never shared the secret of his glazing technique. Markham Pottery stayed in business until 1921, when Herman was ready to retire.

Markham Pottery Advertisement, San Diego City Directory, 1914
 

1922 - Present Day

Herman Markham died on November 18, 1922 in San Diego County. Over 100 years later, Markham Pottery is still featured in the authoritative Kovels' American Art Pottery: The Collector's Guide to Makers, Marks, and Factory Histories. Pieces may be found in museums, private collections, and art auctions around the country. Connoisseurs of the work claim that Markham pieces numbered less than 6000 were crafted in Ann Arbor, and pieces above 6000 are attributed to National City.  The University of Michigan's Museum of Art collection includes some Markham Pottery, many pieces of which were gifted from the family of Professor Hugo Paul Thieme. If you happen to see Markham Pottery in person, know that you may be viewing an authentic piece of old Ann Arbor clay, dug from the ground near the intersection of South Seventh & Madison Streets.

Markham Pottery. Reseau Vase #3539. ca. 1909. Glazed Earthenware. 7.75″h x 3.5″d. Private Collection.
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To be an early race car driver was to constantly confront death. To watch your friends die and get right back behind the wheel, following in their tire tracks. Born and raised in Ann Arbor, Sammy Ross raced cars for almost a decade, defying demise. This meant driving distances of between 100 and 500 miles on looped, trenched dirt tracks in cars without standard safety measures. Oil leaks from competitors were common, sending followers flying into a wall or over an embankment. By 1928, Sammy had reached the upper echelon in racing, qualifying to compete in the Indianapolis 500. 

The 1928 Indianapolis 500 Starting Lineup

Before Getting Behind the Wheel

Samuel “Sammy” Ross was born to parents Edith and Benjamin Ross in Ann Arbor on June 6, 1901. The family lived on South State Street before relocating to Wall Street, just north of the Huron River. This move brought young Sammy into contact with a neighbor who was repairing an old Studebaker. Sammy began helping and was soon hooked. His skills were furthered by his work with George V. Richard, a Wall Street neighbor who owned a garage. “I worked for him and learned every nut and bolt of every motor going.” Sammy didn’t complete his formal schooling, but he learned his trade in auto shops. He remembers seeing his first car race in 1922 and by the next year he was racing in them himself. 

Dirt Track Daredevil

Not just anyone could choose to compete in car racing, trials and qualifying were required first. Sammy earned his eligibility in June of 1923 to take part in a 100-mile race at the Michigan State Fairgrounds in Detroit. After facing engine troubles that forced him to make two pit stops he ultimately earned a respectable fifth place finish in this first showing. 

Motorsports were still in their infancy and investment had yet to be made in creating infrastructure for competition. Sammy’s first race took place on a dirt track that was initially constructed for horse racing. These earthen tracks easily accumulated ruts and quickly turned to mud with any rain. Without precipitation, their soil surfaces kicked up dust that rendered it difficult for drivers to see where they were going. Sammy would later recount using trees outside of the tracks as markers in order to determine where to turn.   

The Program for the 1923 National Dirt Track Championship in Detroit, including Sammy as an entrant

Just a year into his racing career, Sammy won 17 out of 19 races to earn the 1924 Dirt Track Champion of Michigan title. His triumph was a testament not only to his driving abilities, but his skills as a mechanic in maintaining a reliable car. In one 1924 race only four of the seven contestants completed the 100 miles. Of them, Sammy took the top position. The Ann Arbor News wrote, “Ross’ victory was due principally to the fact that he was the only driver that did not have tire or engine trouble.” The next year the Ann Arbor News further underscored how crucial a dependable car was when Sammy was struggling to defend his title, writing, “Things have not been breaking this year for Sam like they did in 1924. His car on several occasions went wrong.” Sammy fought his way back to regain the state title in 1926 and 1927. 

Of course, Sammy owed his success in no small part to his nerves of steel. During one 75-mile race in 1925, Sammy was a mile ahead when one of his tie rods collapsed, sending his car through a fence and down a 12-foot embankment. His car rolled three times, but he miraculously escaped with just a scratch on one eye. He was back behind the wheel two weeks later.

Other competitors were not so fortunate. In his first month of racing Sammy competed in a field of ten cars in Grand Rapids, four of whom were involved in a pileup that resulted in the death of driver Bug McCale. In 1925, Detroit driver Al Waters was killed in another race Sammy took part in. On lap 146 of 150, Waters crashed into a fence at the Michigan State Fair track, dying instantly, and injuring 20 spectators. The list of casualties could tragically go on.

The Brickyard: 1928 

The Indianapolis Motor Speedway, home to the Indianapolis 500, was built in 1909 as a 2.5 mile banked, oval track made of crushed stone and tar, rendering it double the size of the typical 1-mile fairground venues and a radically different composition. The gravel quickly proved too dangerous and within its first year the track was resurfaced with brick, bestowing it with the nickname “the Brickyard.” As champion of the dirt tracks, Sammy would have to prove his abilities on a different surface.

In order to earn a spot in the starting lineup at the 16th annual Indianapolis 500, drivers had to reach a minimum speed of 90 mph. Sammy soared past this on his first lap, reaching a high of 108 mph while simultaneously breaking a shock absorber. His next three laps were hindered by this fault, but he still managed to clock in at 107, 105, and 104 mph. He started in 17th position out of the 33 car lineup.  

Footage from the 1928 Indianapolis 500

On Memorial Day 1928 the flag was waved and the racers were off. Sammy stayed out in the race until his 79th lap when he made a pit stop to change the tires and replenish the car’s gas, oil, and water. He stopped again, to replace his right front tire, all the time climbing in the ranks. By lap 131 he had made it to seventh position, only a lap behind Louie Meyer, who would go on to win the race. 

What the spectators didn’t know was that Sammy had repeatedly lost consciousness as he was driving. Later, it was discovered that tubing was jabbing him in the back over every bump, snapping his neck so hard a few times that it knocked him out. “But I just stuck my head out in the air stream and came to right away,” he later recounted.

The pit lane at the 1928 Indianapolis 500

On his third pit stop, 350 miles into the race, it wasn’t just the tires and fluids that were swapped out, but Sammy as well. The plan was to check on Sammy’s health while the relief driver took over for 20 laps or so to hold the position until Sammy could hop back in for the final stretch. As the Ann Arbor News put it, “Only an unkind turn of fate prevented Sammy Ross, Ann Arbor race driver, from placing up among the leaders and perhaps winning the 500-mile grunt at Indianapolis.” 

Impatient to get in the race, the relief driver attempted to start the car too quickly, ripping out the transmission and ending any chance at reentering the field. That relief driver was none other than Wilbur Shaw, “one of the most important people in the history of American auto racing.” Wilbur would go on to win the Indianapolis 500 three times and eventually save the Indianapolis Motor Speedway from demolition. But in 1928, he put a stop to Sammy’s first chance at Indy. In the end, Sammy earned $526. 

Sammy at the 1928 Indianapolis 500

Sammy continued racing despite this setback, but the luck he had maintained in evading damage ran dry. In 1929, just a week before the next Indy 500, Sammy was racing on a dirt track in Toledo when he lost control of his car. A fence was lined with fans in front of him and he did his best to steer toward a gap. He succeeded in missing the spectators, but he took the brunt of the harm himself. As a result of his injuries he was hospitalized for 13 months. The damage to his left arm was severe enough that doctor’s debated whether or not it would have to be amputated. Wilbur Shaw went on to win that Toledo race.  

Back at the Brickyard: 1931

1931 brought Sammy’s second chance at the top racing prize. He reached a qualifying high speed of 106 mph, only enough for him to start in 37th position out of 40. Having just regained his health, Sammy was again faced with the true risks of his chosen career. Just two days prior to Sammy’s qualifying run, driver Joe Caccia and his required co-pilot, riding mechanic Clarence Grover, died after their car slid in a turn, crashed through the retaining wall, and caught fire. 

Sammy and riding mechanic "Olie" Wilkinson at the 1931 Indianapolis 500

Race day arrived and Sammy remained steady in spite of the fact that he had been awake for the last 48 hours making final changes to his car. Still, he completed the entire race himself with no assistance from repeat relief driver Wilbur Shaw who had failed to qualify after a broken crankshaft. Relief drivers were shared across competitors and after stepping in for driver Phil Pardee, Wilbur crashed during the race, driving over an embankment. He was uninjured and walked back to the pits to continue his role as a substitute. Sammy crossed the finish line fifteenth, having gained 22 spots from where he started, but that also made him the last car to finish that hadn’t faced mechanical malfunction or been involved in a crash. 1931 would be Sammy’s final run at the Indianapolis 500 – at least as a driver.

Racing “Retirement”

Cars were his true love, and though Sammy gave up the driver’s seat, he remained a part of the racing community. For years Sammy returned to the Indianapolis 500 to work as a “goodwill mechanic” in one driver or another’s pit crew. He offered his assistance to men he had previously raced beside. 

Sticking to what he knew, outside of racing Sammy also continued to work as a mechanic and eventually transitioned his skills with machines into a job at Argus Inc. as a toolmaker. Argus’ employee newsletter included a feature on Sammy’s racing career and continued connection to the motorsports community in 1947. That year, Sammy served as a part of Shorty Cantlon’s crew at the Indianapolis 500. The two had raced against each other for years, but it would prove to be Sammy's last time working at the brickyard. Shorty died during the race after crashing into a barrier wall. 

Another Ann Arbor Generation

It took 48 years after Sammy's turn around the Indy track for another Ann Arbor native to compete in the famed 500. Howdy Holmes was born and raised in Ann Arbor as the heir to the Chelsea Milling Company and their famous Jiffy Mix. Leading up to Howdy's first race at Indianapolis in 1979, Sammy told the Ann Arbor News, “I’ve been reading about him. He sounds like a fine racer, a fine young man. And he sounds smart. That’s what you need down there at Indy. You need the smartness. Anybody can keep turning left.” Howdy rose from his 13th position start to finish seventh. As the only rookie to compete, he earned the title of Rookie of the Year. Howdy also raced alongside another teammate with Ann Arbor ties, Janet Guthrie. Janet graduated from the University of Michigan with a physics degree in 1960 and went on to become the first woman to compete in the Indianapolis 500 in 1977. 

The Finish Line

At age 24, early in Sammy's racing career, he married 21-year-old Ann Arborite Marjorie Bergeon. The press described her as Sammy's "mascot,"  “a charming petite little miss" who "has lent an air of charm and distinction to the races she has attended." The couple's rush to get married made the papers when they embarked on a race to the city clerk’s office before a new act went into effect that would have required them to wait five days before they could be issued a license. Their haste to get married was followed by a divorce not long after in June of 1927. In an era when divorce required a fault, Marjorie listed “extreme cruelty” as the cause. As one 1917 book on divorce law put it, “Extreme cruelty as a ground for divorce may embrace a good many different acts, and the term is somewhat elastic. What may amount to such cruelty as would constitute good cause for a divorce in one case may be entirely insufficient in another.” Whatever it meant in this case, Sammy did not contest it, and he never married again.

In his subsequent years, Sammy continued the trade he had learned in his youth. In 1968, the Ann Arbor News caught up with him in his small repair shop at 1342 N. Main St, located across the Huron River from where he had fallen in love with cars. A recent leg amputation now required him to use a motorized wheelchair. He joked, “Well, I guess you’d say I just ran out of legs.”

Sammy never held Wilbur's error against him. He recalled him later in life as, “the best friend I ever had in racing. He was sharp, eager, a tough competitor and a wonderful person besides. He was a good loser, a good winner, a credit to racing. I never said anything to him about that 1928 race. We just never talked about it. How can you fault someone who’s got his soul in the game.”

Sammy in 1973

What compels someone to repeatedly risk their life? To keep going even after watching compatriots killed on the track? Sammy described his mindset:

“Before most races I was scared, I was scared of the cars, the whole thing. But once that green flag is dropped, you just stop thinking about it. You stopped worrying and just drove by reflex and if you hit those big bumps on that Indianapolis brickyard you just tried to hit them a little harder the next time. It was always a pretty rough ride down there until you got over 100. Then you just flew over those bumps. But in any race when it was all over it was a good feeling to know you were still alive and if you’d won, it was that much better. If you had it in you– I mean that real passion for motors and racing and speed– well, it was something you had to do. I’m glad I did it.”

As Sammy's health was failing, friend and former riding mechanic Olin “Olie” Wilkinson, who had been alongside Sammy in the 500 in 1931, would take him out for drives. Sammy spent his final months in the Whitmore Lake Convalescent Home, where he could be found listening to races on the radio. When Sammy passed away in 1980 he donated his body to the University of Michigan medical school.

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