A Pioneer

Michigan architect Minoru Yamasaki (1912-1986) was an architectural pioneer in both his professional and personal life. Professionally, he dared to challenge prevailing concepts of modernism. Personally, he was the first American architect “of color” to achieve fame, but despite his status was the victim of discrimination by the society he so loved. Yamasaki’s life thus embodies some of the triumphs and tragedies of American society in the twentieth century.

Minoru Yamasaki was born to a struggling family in a poor Japanese-American neighborhood of Seattle. He lived his first few years in a tenement without indoor bathrooms. While in high school, Minoru decided to devote his life to architecture. He graduated from the University of Washington and then moved to New York City, finding employment with several prominent architectural firms. After many years of training, his talents were recognized when he was hired by the Detroit firm of Smith, Hinchman & Grylls in 1945 to be their chief designer. His move to the Detroit area would be permanent. Four years later, Yamasaki started his own architectural office.

After achieving national recognition with the Lambert-St. Louis Airport terminal (1956), Yamasaki’s architecture underwent a drastic change. Inspired by great architecture from the past, Yamasaki turned toward a gentler, more decorated style of modernism, and away from the more severe, rectangular glass box style that characterized some of his early work and much of contemporary architecture. He spoke of the need to reinvigorate modernism by reintroducing the lost qualities of “delight” and “serenity.” From historical architecture he learned to create buildings that related both to their surroundings and their occupants.

Mid Century Modernism

Yamasaki began to produce a series of buildings that moved architectural modernism in a new direction. One of the first was the McGregor Memorial Conference Center at Wayne State University in Detroit (1959). A simple, two-story building for meetings became a delightful experience in Yamasaki’s hands. The McGregor Center was inspired by sources as varied as Gothic cathedrals, the Taj Mahal, and traditional Zen Buddhist temples. Yamasaki later added the Education Building (1960) and the Prentiss Building and DeRoy Auditorium (1964) to the Wayne State campus.

Our Guest Blogger
Dale Allen Gyure is Associate Professor of Architecture at Lawrence Technological University in Southfield, Michigan, where he teaches classes in architectural history and theory, and Adjunct Assistant Professor of Historic Preservation at Goucher College, where he teaches a course in American Architectural History and serves as Co-Director of the Master’s Thesis program. Dr. Gyure’s research focuses on American architecture of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, particularly the intersections of architecture, education, and society.

Dr. Gyure has earned a Ph.D. in architectural history from the University of Virginia, a J.D. from Indiana University, and a B.S. from Ball State University. Before becoming a historian, he practiced law in Tampa, Florida. Dr. Gyure lives in Farmington Hills, Michigan, with his wife, Jan, and two sons.

The second part of this article will appear on May 28, 2013.

Come see original Minoru Yamasaki materials at the “Put it on Paper” exhibit! The exhibit, spotlighting creators and the creative process, can be seen at the Michigan Historical Museum through August 25, 2013.

Other Creators Featured in Put it on Paper (Click Links for Look! Articles):

Author Ernest Hemingway
Author Laura Ingalls Wilder
Author John Voelker
Artist Oscar Warbach
Railroad Horticulturist Olaf Jensen
Michigan Highway Designer Philip Troeger

Here’s an example of a Michigan land patent. This particular patent dates from 1864.

One of my biggest triumphs as an archivist at the Archives of Michigan was learning how to effectively search for land records. The Archives is home to several types of records related to land, and they can seem daunting at first. Land records are often organized by the property’s township, range and section numbers, and many people aren’t used to referring to land this way.

The foundation for using many land records is an understanding of Michigan’s township and range grid system. The surveys that originally laid out the grid were conducted primarily between 1815 and 1860 and divided Michigan into townships that are thirty-six square miles in area. Each township was given township and range coordinates and divided into thirty-six one-square-mile sections. You can find an excellent map that gives township names and coordinates for the entire state here. The image below shows one of the maps created from the original land surveys and shows how sections are numbered within each township (To view a larger version, click Land Survey Map) . All of the original survey maps are available here at Seeking Michigan.

A map created from original land surveys.

Each section in a township can be further divided into half sections, quarter sections, and quarter-quarter sections. When I work with researchers in the Archives reading room, I usually draw a diagram like the ones below to illustrate how the divisions work.

A diagram demonstrating land divisions.

Now that you understand the grid system, let’s take a look at some of the ways you might be able to find out (or at least estimate) the township, range and section numbers as well as quarter sections. The first place to check would be a deed to the property. The coordinates and quarter section information are usually listed at the end of a legal description. If the property is located in a subdivision, and you know the name of the subdivision and the county where it is located, you can use the online subdivision plat database maintained by Michigan’s Bureau of Construction Codes. Subdivision plats will indicate at least the township, range and section numbers and may also indicate quarter sections. If you have just a general sense of where a parcel is located, Michigan county atlases (available in the Archives of Michigan reading room or at your local public library) can be a good resource. They usually show the township, range and section grid, and you can use nearby roads as landmarks to identify the area you’re researching.

If you’re interested in learning more about land records available at the Archives of Michigan, check out our subject guides for land records and Rural Property Inventories.

Part of Troeger’s drawing for the Burton Street Bridge, on US-131 in Grand Rapids

Being a farm boy from Iowa did not stop Philip Theodore Troeger (1889-1976) from designing highways. Troeger’s Michigan highway career actually began in Chicago, where he received a Bachelor’s Degree from the School of Agriculture, University of Illinois at Chicago in 1916. Troeger combined landscape gardening with civil engineering when he studied at the Lewis Institute (one of the schools that later became the Illinois Institute of Technology). By 1930, Troeger had left the Windy City for Detroit. At first, Troeger supported his wife, Harriet, and son, John, by working as a salesman. Luckily, by 1933, he was able to switch to his chosen avocation – landscape architecture – by joining the staff of the State Highway Department.

Civil Engineer

While working for the State, Troeger applied to be registered as a civil engineer in Michigan. His first two attempts, made in 1939, were denied by the State Board of Registration for Architects, Professional Engineers and Land Surveyors. While the board considered him a landscape architect of high caliber, members did not believe that he qualified as a civil engineer. It was suggested that he reapply for registration as a land surveyor. The following year, Troeger ignored their advice and reapplied as a civil engineer. He prevailed and was registered as a professional civil engineer on March 20, 1940.

Troeger’s Drawings

Registered or not, Troeger successfully designed rural and urban highways for the State from 1933 until 1959. He also drafted project specifications for roadside parks and information stations along Michigan’s highways. Not much is known about Troeger during his time in Lansing. Luckily for us, we do have a collection of his pen and ink drawings of proposed highway projects. The Design Division of the Michigan Department of Transportation transferred approximately 125 Troeger drawings to the Archives of Michigan in 1988. This architectural record documents expressway bridges, interchanges and overpasses. The communities documented vary from urban areas like Detroit to small towns like Holland. What I like about Troeger’s drawings are the intricate details: roads built amid rolling landscapes, buildings and railroad tracks; cars and trucks barreling down the highways; ships navigating the rivers.

A Troeger drawing, with some tools of the trade – part of the Put it on Paper exhibit in the Michigan Historical Museum.

Put It on Paper

Currently, Michigan Historical Center is exhibiting three Troeger drawings of proposed highway improvements: the pedestrian bridge at Lumley Street over the Edsel Ford Freeway in Detroit, the U.S. 23 relocation over the Saginaw River and New York Central Railroad in Bay City, and Grand Rapids Expressway in the vicinity of Franklin, Wealthy, and Cherry streets (the S-Curve). This work is part of the Put It on Paper! exhibit. This exhibit, which is supported by funds from the Michigan Humanities Council, considers the creative endeavors of people native to or associated with Michigan. Other architects and landscapers featured include railroad horticulturist Olaf Jensen and World Trade Center architect Minoru Yamasaki. The Jensen and Yamasaki collections are also housed at the Archives of Michigan.

Put it on Paper! is open until August 25, 2013. Researchers can also look at the Philip Troeger Collection (RG 88-17) by visiting the Archives of Michigan reading room. Click Michigan Historical Center for the hours of operation of both the archives and the museum.

Part of Executive Order 1968-1, issued by Governor George Romney in conjunction with a proclamation of emergency.

On April 5, 1968 Governor George Romney declared a state of emergency in Wayne County. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated the day before, and many American cities were experiencing violence. Detroit had seen a civil disturbance the previous summer, and Romney feared another such occurrence.

Emergency Conditions

Romney’s Executive Order 1968-1 included these edicts for the affected area:

1. A curfew would be imposed from 8:00 pm until 5:00 am. People were expected to be off the streets during those hours.

2.The possession or sale of firearms and inflammables was prohibited.

3.The sale of alcoholic beverages was prohibited.

4.All places of amusement were closed.

5.All meetings or assemblies of more than five persons were prohibited, unless the director of the Michigan State Police granted permission for the assembly.

Dr. Martin Luther King participated in the Detroit Freedom Walk, a peaceful demonstration in Detroit, in 1963.

Captain’s Log

The Archives of Michigan has a State Police Second District Captain’s log that shows the minute by minute reports from April 4 through April 11 of 1968. The Police were on full alert. All vacations were cancelled and all officers placed on twelve hour shifts. There were many demonstrations and other expressions of anger, such as broken windows and shots at police officers. Overall, however, the civil disturbances were kept under control.

The log also shows many people calling in about the limitations on assemblies. Many religious leaders had planned peaceful marches and memorial services for Dr. King. In general, the services were permitted inside churches and other gathering places, but the marches were not. A few marches were allowed to continue for a couple of city blocks before they were dispersed. Many planned gatherings, such as weddings, were disrupted. Others were permitted, provided that the participants went home by 8 PM.

Emergency Period Ends

A large scale disturbance feared by officials did not materialize in Michigan. It is difficult to say if the emergency proclamation prevented that disturbance or not.

On April 11, 1968 Governor Romney proclaimed that the state of emergency no longer existed and all civil liberties were restored.

Governor’s Decision Room

The Governor’s Decision Room, located at the Michigan Historical Center, helps students experience the inner workings of state government and learn decision-making skills. The first available learning module will focus on circumstances in Detroit, as faced by Governor George Romney in summer, 1967. Future modules will be developed based on the PBB crisis of the 1970s and the Sit-Down Strike of 1936-1937 in Flint. Click Governor’s Decision Room to learn more.

The ribbon cutting of the Governor’s Decision Room, Feb. 28, 2013. From left to right: Patricia Clark, Director of Michigan History Foundation; former Senator Joe Schwarz, Chair of Michigan History Foundation; Governor Rick Synder; Bill Moritz, Deputy Director of DNR and Sandra Clark, Director of the Michigan Historical Center.

While scanning an almanac from 1885 (It will be featured in our weather exhibit, debuting in September 2013.), I found some great examples of the types of advertisements that were common before regulation. You will find some similarities between these ads from the past and the commercials we see on television and in print today. Even in the 1800s, advertisements often utilized testimonials from other customers and sometimes even allowed payment in installments!

Medicines and various “remedies” were readily available through mail order, and it was common to see advertisements for opium derivatives like laudanum, or calming syrups for teething or restless children containing morphine.

This ad features a “soothing syrup” containing morphine

It was also common to find ads for various panaceas or elixirs that claim to cure everything from bad skin to kidney trouble, containing elaborate poems and illustrations. Like advertisers today, these companies knew how to target their audience. The ads for items like dyes or fabric were made to appeal to women, and even the kidney wort ad in the almanac features a section on “diseases peculiar to women”.

The poem in this photo continues for three pages of the almanac, and tells the story of a wise girl named Mary who used “Wells, Richardson & Co.’s Butter Color” to save her marriage.

In the Michigan Historical Museum, you will find numerous examples of advertisements from different time periods. The gallery devoted to the industrialization of Michigan has numerous examples of advertisements for products that were new and exciting at the time but seem like antiques to us now. The car dealership in the 1920s gallery has many examples of the way different companies advertised their cars – emphasizing fashion, utility or luxury. It is fascinating to compare these print ads with the car commercials we see today, to see what has changed drastically but also what is much the same. Fast forward to the 1950s gallery, and you will see more print ads on display – for appliances like the ones you see in the life size kitchen in the Michigan Historical Museum exhibit.

Come on in and see history through a different lens!

1950s Kitchen Gallery, Michigan Historical Museum (A binder of contemporary advertisements appears in the foreground.).

This photo (from the author’s personal collection) dates from the 1978 blizzard in Michigan.

“I’m sorry, Charles,” Ma said from the kitchen. “I can’t seem to get the house warm.”

“No wonder,” Pa answered. “It’s forty degrees below zero and this wind is driving the cold in. This is the worst storm yet, but luckily everyone is accounted for. Nobody’s lost from town.”

I first read these words listening to the howling wind and snow outside the windows of my rural Michigan home. The year was 1977, the coldest winter recorded in Michigan in more than a century. But for me, it might as well have been Dakota Territory in 1881. The account of the blizzard, one of many to sweep the northern Great Plains in 1881, came from the memory of well-known children’s author Laura Ingalls Wilder. It was the story of The Long Winter.

Laura Ingalls Wilder and Me

Imagining myself a young pioneer girl, I braved the hardships of that twentieth-century Michigan winter just as Laura had braved a harsh winter almost one hundred years before me. I went to sleep at night under quilts made by my great grandmother; cooked supper on a wood stove purchased by my mother at a local farm auction and dreamed of one day taking a sleigh ride over the glistening snow.

It didn’t help that Laura and I had birthdays very close together: mine January 30th and hers February 7th (1867), or that folks sometimes called me Laura when they were in a hurry.

Laura Ingalls Wilder

Laura Ingalls Wilder, Storyteller

Laura Ingalls Wilder visited Michigan in 1937 as part of the J. L. Hudson Department Store’s annual Book Fair in Detroit. She had not yet written The Long Winter, first published in 1940. Wilder was just becoming a known author in the mid-1930s. Writing from her life experiences, she mixed fact with fiction, all with the promise of telling a good story. Wilder’s account of the multiple blizzards during the winter of 1880-1881 has been verified by National Weather Service meteorologist Barbara Mays Boustead: “I thought going into this (documentation project) that since it was fiction a lot of it would be made up. But she (Laura) was dead on in her memory.”

During her speech at the Detroit Book Fair, Wilder commented that, “Every story in this novel (On the Banks of Plum Creek), all the circumstances, each incident are true. All I have told is true but it is not the whole truth.” According to one historian, Pamela Smith Hill, “the fact that she (Laura) wrote her early drafts on wide lined school tablets added charm and credibility to her story.”

Laura Ingalls Wilder’s notebooks in the Put it On Paper exhibit, Michigan Historical Museum.

Put It on Paper

This winter, the Michigan Historical Center is pleased to have on loan from the Detroit Public Library those very charming wide lined school tablets on which Wilder wrote The Long Winter. The tablets and original illustrations for Wilder’s books by both Helen Sewell and Garth Williams are part of a temporary exhibit on creativity called “Put it on Paper.” The exhibit runs untill August 25, 2013. It features a “book nook” for young readers, with copies of the Little House books for you to read for yourself, or to the young pioneer in your life. Who knows what this long winter will bring, but a good book and a trip to the Michigan Historical Museum are always on the top of my list!

Other Creators Featured in Put it on Paper (Click Links for Look! Articles):

Author Ernest Hemingway
Author John Voelker
Artist Oscar Warbach
Railroad Horticulturist Olaf Jensen
World Trade Center Architect Minoru Yamasaki.

The Detroit Walk to Freedom

Dr. King was then in the midst of a tour (begun that spring) from California to New York. His Detroit stop proved the tour’s biggest success. Police estimated the Freedom Walk crowd at 125,000. The day after the event, The Detroit Free Press labeled it “the largest civil rights demonstration in the nation’s history.” The walk began at Woodward and Adelaide and continued down Woodward to Cobo Hall. It lasted about an hour and a half, as marchers carried signs and sang songs (Songs included “We Shall Overcome” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”).

The Detroit Council for Human Rights organized the Walk. The Council’s director, Benjamin McFall, and its Chairman, Rev. Clarence L. Franklin, marched in a line with King and Swainson. That line also included Detroit Mayor Jerome Cavanaugh, United Auto Workers President Walter P. Reuther and State Auditor General Billie S. Farnum. (Then-current governor George Romney, a Mormon who avoided public appearances on Sundays, did not directly participate. He did, however, proclaim the day “Freedom March Day in Michigan.”)

Speech at Cobo Hall (“I Have a Dream…”)

At the walk’s conclusion, King gave a speech at Cobo Hall. According to the contemporary Detroit Free Press report, approximately twenty-five thousand people sat in attendance, with African Americans comprising about ninety-five percent of that total. They listened as King spoke of non-violence and an end to racial segregation. The June 24, 1963 Free Press report notes that King “ended his speech by telling of a dream.” According to the Free Press, King described his dream of whites and blacks “walking together hand in hand, free at last.”

In his book King: A Biography, David Levering Lewis states that King repeated the phrase “I have a dream” several times during that Cobo Hall speech. Lewis notes that when King addressed a crowd in Washington, D.C. two months later, he “kept the refrain from the Detroit speech: I have a dream.” (See Lewis’ King: A Biography, second edition, Urbana: University of Illinois, 1978, pg. 227).

Conclusion

King’s Washington speech of August 28, 1963 became famous as his “I have a dream speech.” It was a defining moment in the American civil rights movement. In one sense, however, the seeds of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream were planted in Michigan – in Detroit’s Cobo Hall.

1847-1900

Lansing’s African American heritage is as old as the city itself. Lansing’s first black resident of record is James Little, a freed slave from New York state. Little came to Lansing in 1847 (the year of the city’s founding) and started a farm.

Lansing’s black population increased slowly during the remainder of the nineteenth century. Many black settlers came from other northern states and from the upper south. Some were Canadians descended from escaped slaves. Others came from elsewhere in Michigan, with the majority of those hailing from Cass County (Freed slave communities had been established there before the Civil War.).

1900-1929

As more families came, a clear African American community began to develop in Lansing. By 1900, most blacks lived on the city’s west side, close to where the Oldsmobile plant would one day stand. They tended to be more educated and skilled than blacks in large urban areas. Sixty percent of Lansing’s African Americans were homeowners, and a few owned businesses. Discrimination did force most to seek jobs in the service industry, however, and many worked as waiters, cooks and domestic servants.

The Malcolm X historical marker in Lansing (Photo taken February 5, 2012).

A large-scale migration of African Americans from the Deep South to the North began around 1915. Blacks moved to Lansing in greater numbers than ever, while whites began to more actively enforce segregated housing.

Malcolm X’s parents, Earl and Louise Little^[1], were among the victims of discrimination. In 1929, they were sued for buying property in Lansing’s Westmont subdivision. Westmont property deeds explicitly forbid sales to anyone “not of the Caucasian race.” The court ordered the Littles to move, and a fire (believed by the Littles to be caused by white arsonists) soon destroyed the property (For more on Malcolm X’s experiences in Lansing click Malcolm X in Michigan.).

1929-1970

Segregation became even more pronounced during the Great Depression. With a growing African American population and fewer housing opportunities, Lansing’s main black neighborhood (still located by the Oldsmobile plant) became increasingly crowded. Housing shortages during and after World War II exacerbated the situation.

In the 1960s, the city began practicing urban renewal. Interstate 496 was constructed through the heart of the city, bisecting the main black neighborhood. The project claimed 890 dwellings, many of which were occupied by African Americans. An Oldsmobile expansion project and two urban renewal projects around the Capitol destroyed even more housing.

1970-Today

The urban renewal projects ended by 1970. That year, about eleven thousand blacks lived in Lansing. By the year 2000, that number had grown to twenty-six thousand. The number continues to grow, as Lansing itself becomes more modern and diverse.

[1]As far as is known, Earl Little is not related to James Little, Lansing’s first black resident. Malcolm X was born in Nebraska in 1925, and his family relocated to Michigan in 1928.

President Andrew Jackson (Source of image: www.senate.gov)

Come see Michigan Statehood Documents on Saturday January 26, 2013! Click Statehood Day at the Michigan Historical Center for details.

Note: The article below originally appeared in the January/February 1999 issue of Michigan History Magazine. It has been updated in two ways: 1) “State Archives of Michigan” was changed to “Archives of Michigan,” to reflect the Archives’ current name. 2) The statistic on the amount of paper in the Archives (see concluding paragraph) now reflects a more recent (2012) number, rather than the number from 1999.

The Archives of Michigan collects and preserves significant records generated by the state and local governments of Michigan. On rare occasions, however, this depository of Michigan’s documentary heritage is called upon to care for selected federal papers. There are four good examples of this unusual situation, and they all occurred years ago and at the same time.

The story of these seemingly strayed records begins in 1933, when U.S. Senator Arthur H. Vandenberg discovered several interesting items squirreled away in the nation’s Capitol. In the files of the secretary of the Senate, he uncovered several original sheets of parchment that qualify as Michigan’s birth certificates.

The first of these handwritten treasures was a letter from President Andrew Jackson dated December 9, 1835. Addressed to the members of “the Senate and House of Representatives,” it notified Congress that Michigan had met the qualifications for statehood. [Editor's note: To read this letter, click Andrew Jackson, Page 1 and Andrew Jackson, Page 2.]

The next find was Senate Bill 81 from the second session of the Twenty-fourth Congress. This document, bearing the date it was reported from the Senate Judiciary Committee, December 29, 1836, was the bill granting statehood to Michigan. [Editor's note: To read this bill, click Senate Bill 81, Page 1 and Senate Bill 81, Page 2.]

The remaining two documents were the credentials of Michigan’s first two U.S. senators, Lucius Lyon and John Norvell. Both of these men took their seats on January 26, 1837, the same day Michigan joined the Union.

Believing that these manuscripts would be more appreciated in Michigan than in Washington, Vandenberg crafted and submitted Senate Resolution 341. This measure directed the secretary of the Senate “to make photostatic copies” of the noted documents and deposit them in the Senate files. This having been done, the originals were to be sent to Lansing for permanent retention and preservation.

Vandenberg’s colleagues agreed to his proposal on February 9, 1933, marking the first time any state had been given the original documents admitting it to the Union. Two weeks later, the four congressional records arrived in Lansing.

Within the nearly full vaults of the Archives of Michigan are housed over sixty thousand cubic feet of the most important papers produced by public officials at the state, county, township and municipal level. But it is doubtful that anything in this vast amount of material has more sentimental value than the four isolated sheets of paper that declared Michigan the twenty-sixth state in the Union.

President Andrew Jackson’s signature on the December 9, 1835 letter to Congress.

For more on Michigan statehood, click The Rough and Rocky Road to Statehood

This British cartoon from circa 1813 depicts the capture of American General Winchester. Image source: The Library of Congress.

Winchester’s Troops

Through the fall and winter of 1812, American General William Henry Harrison prepared his army to recapture Detroit, which had been surrendered to the British on August 16th. Part of Harrison’s army, under the command of General James Winchester, struggled to move supplies north to build a base at the rapids of the Maumee River in Ohio. Winchester’s soldiers marched through two feet of snow and when their horses gave out, the men pulled the cargo themselves.

Answering Calls for Help

The exhausted soldiers arrived at the rapids on January 10th 1813, but soon received disturbing calls for help from Michigan Territory. The inhabitants of Frenchtown on the River Raisin complained of British and Indian harassment and told of British plans to seize their stored food, which included three hundred barrels of flour. On the night of January 16th, Winchester met with his officers in a council of war. Though opposed by Colonel Wells, the senior regular army officer, Winchester decided to follow the resolve of his Kentucky militia officers and advance troops to aid the people of Frenchtown.

The next morning, 550 Kentucky militia troops marched out of camp to take the road north to Frenchtown, followed later that day by 130 more Kentuckians. By 3:00pm the next day, the Americans were near the enemy, about fifty British militia troops and two hundred Indians. The Kentucky militia deployed in three detachments and attacked the British across the frozen River Raisin under heavy musket and cannon fire. When the fighting ended at nightfall, the Americans had succeeded in driving the British away from Frenchtown. A militia officer wrote to General Winchester requesting reinforcements to help hold the town when the expected British counterattack came.

Reinforcements…and a Counterattack

Winchester sent three hundred U.S. regulars under Colonel Wells to Frenchtown, which brought the total American force there to about one thousand men. When Winchester arrived to inspect the troops, he found most of them camped behind a picket fence that surrounded the town. Though his militia were scattered, and the regular soldiers camped in a position that exposed them to enemy attack, Winchester failed to move them. The general then set up his headquarters in a house across the river, keeping the extra ammunition instead of distributing it to the troops. Each man in the regulars had only ten cartridges for his musket.

When the British did return, at dawn on the 22nd, American sentries fired, warning the camp. The Americans woke to face 597 British soldiers, militia and sailors armed with cannon and between six hundred and eight hundred Indians led by Wyandot chief Roundhead. At first, the Americans stood up to the British assault, but soon the Indians outflanked the exposed regular soldiers. Running low on ammunition, facing the British to their front and crossfire from the Indians, the regulars broke formation and ran. Chased by native warriors, many Americans were killed as they fled through the woods. Winchester and several other American officers were captured and taken to the British commander, Colonel Procter. Procter persuaded Winchester to order the remaining American troops holding out in Frenchtown to surrender, assuring him that the British would protect the townspeople and the sick and wounded American soldiers.

The River Raisin

After the remainder of the Americans surrendered, Procter quickly retreated back to the British base at Fort Malden across the Detroit River, taking the American prisoners and those wounded men who could walk. About eighty wounded Americans were left at Frenchtown. When Indian warriors returned to take captives and war trophies, they killed thirty of the wounded and took the remainder to their villages or to ransom to the British. Outraged Americans remembered the incident with the rallying cry, “Remember the Raisin!”

Come to a Michigan Statehood Celebration commemorating the War of 1812. It will be held at the Michigan Historical Museum in Lansing, January 26th, 2013 from 11-4pm.

Learn more about the Battle of Frenchtown at the River Raisin National Battlefield Park.

In this photo – taken in Monroe, Michigan in 1871 – George Armstrong Custer (back row, third from left) poses with aged veterans of the 1813 River Raisin battle.